The Boys: Viltrumite Bloodline Panel

We forget everything. What we do not remember, we cannot prevent. And by refusing to face the depths of our own nature, we ensure that the monster will always return, wearing a different face.

~ Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn (The Gulag Archipelago)

_____

One boy left a deep impression on Hillel. He wasn’t very old, and one of his eye sockets was sunken in.

It didn’t look like a congenital disability, but rather something caused later in life. He sat in the corner of the bed, hugging his knees.

He kept muttering to himself, "I’m a good boy... I’m very good... I’m a very good boy..."

Maeve opened the last few rooms, where there were several girls who didn’t react at all when they saw the three of them.

They were young, their bellies swollen high, and their expressions were distinctly different from the other children.

They even actively welcomed the three of them, wearing genuine smiles on their faces.

It didn’t look like they had been trained or coerced; rather, it was as if... they had been born on this island and had been instilled with alternative concepts since birth...

Maeve trembled all over, two lines of clear tears streaming from the corners of her eyes.

Homelander, on the other hand, had a different reaction; memories of his childhood flashed through his mind again and again and again..

An empty room, a blue blanket, researchers looking through the glass as if observing animals...

Homelander’s heartbeat began to accelerate.

Homelander! The most powerful supe in the whole world!

Standing in the corridor at this moment, he was struggling desperately to suppress the red light in his eyes, his Heat Vision threatening to burst forth several times.

Hillel’s reaction was actually the most restrained of them all.

Before coming, he had prepared himself mentally countless times, yet he was still shocked by everything on the island.

And this was only the tip of the iceberg.

"Who are the masterminds behind all this?"

Homelander’s voice was low. He didn’t believe the blue blanket in the laboratory was just a coincidence.

One or two could be called a coincidence.

But the layout of every room was almost identical to the room he had lived in as a child.

"High-ranking politicians, military representatives, prominent entrepreneurs, philanthropists, celebrities from all walks of life, scientists, and even some Vought executives... let’s just put it this way: half of all influential personnel are almost inextricably linked to this island."

Maeve slammed her fist into the wall.

"Is this the real reason you brought us here? To collect evidence on these politicians, then hand it over to Vought to reap even greater benefits?"

Maeve looked at Hillel; her intense emotional fluctuations made her a bit reckless with her words.

"Maeve, I am not John; I am a normal person!"

Hillel’s voice was icy. "What I intend to do is not engage in a transactional exchange of interests, but to subvert and tear apart this hypocrisy and Satan-isation. I am going to create a god!"

Maeve’s emotions calmed down a little.

"There are more people below, many of them. I want to kill them."

Homelander’s X-ray vision had already seen everything.

"Then go ahead. Leave a few alive; we can’t let them die too quickly, can we?"

Hillel didn’t need to say anything more to Homelander.

Nothing was more satisfying than slaughter.

Homelander smashed through the floor, and Hillel and Maeve jumped down after him.

The lower level was still a corridor.

Like a mirror world from which one could never escape, room after room.

Trapped within were souls.

Boccaccio’s "Sending the Devil to Hell" was exactly like the scene before them.

...

[Maeve — Extreme Emotions: Anger, Sadness, Disgust, Sense of Justice, Deep Identification with The Guardian]

[Ability Points Gained: +24,560]

...

[Homelander — Extreme Emotions: Rage, Murderous Intent, Pain, Resonance with Childhood Trauma, Deep Trust in The Guardian]

[Ability Points Gained: +28,670]

...

Maeve had seen death, endured pain, and experienced countless disillusionments of her ideals.

She thought she had seen enough ugliness.

The entertainment industry was full of hypocrites, addicts, and genuine scoundrels all day long. They took drugs, did lines, had endless dark histories, and even had giant babies like Homelander who killed without blinking.

Yet all the evil they did combined couldn’t compare to a fraction of what was here.

She thought again of those pregnant girls.

In their minds, they might not even know what a normal world was.

That was the most terrifying part.

Maeve’s stomach was churning, even spasming slightly.

Several times she walked a bit and had to lean against the wall, taking deep breaths for a long while to push down the urge to puke.

"Are you alright?" Hillel asked.

It was a good thing they hadn’t brought Starlight. The happy-go-lucky girl’s reaction would’ve been even worse than Maeve’s.

The Queen had been through plenty, yet this still hit her that hard.

"Not good, but what I’ve seen is nothing compared to what they’ve been through."

Maeve straightened up and kept walking.

"What do you plan to do?"

She asked Hillel, hoping for some kind of plan, even if he lied to her.

"This can’t just turn into a straight-up slaughter, and it can’t be treated like some simple rescue mission either. If it was only that, tomorrow there’d be another island, another Alastair Adana running the show, and another batch of kids suffering."

"What we need to do is rip the dark side wide open. Let the public see how many cockroaches are nesting under magnificent towers, how many maggots are wriggling around, and how many flies are busy whitewashing the peace!"

"This is more meaningful than shooting a couple of street commercials, bickering in Congress, or even tearing into each other in court, isn’t it?"

Hillel said.

Maeve didn’t answer. She just gripped Hillel’s hand tight.

Since that damn God never bothered to open His eyes and look at the world, she’d believe in a god that belonged only to her.

Maeve looked at Hillel’s back.

The third basement level.

The corridor here was narrower, the lighting dimmer. It looked like a set from a chainsaw slasher movie.

The walls were covered in thick soundproofing material. Double layers.

Hillel and Homelander’s sense of smell was sharp.

They could pick up the components in the air.

Sweet. Rotten. Foul...

At the end of the corridor was a heavy iron door. Hillel punched it and sent the door and its frame flying.

Boom!

Behind it was a huge room.

It looked like a party hall. Men and women were going at it hard.

When the door got smashed open, some bald, pot-bellied high-ranking officials stared at the entrance with wide eyes.

As for the ones being brutalized underneath them... from old to young, it was simply unspeakable.

Homelander flew out with his hands behind his back.

Heat Vision fired indiscriminately.

Hillel saved every innocent person in a single second and left only the few dozen "big shots" who were actually part of the party.

Maeve kicked off the ground and lunged at one of them.

Her fist tore through the air with a sharp whistle.

One punch exploded the heads of ten people.

Someone scrambled for a gun. Hillel vanished in an instant.

The next second he was there, grabbing the hand holding the gun and giving it a light tug.

The wrist ripped clean off.

Blood sprayed out in a wild arc. "Arrrg—"

Hillel slashed diagonally with a hand blade and split the man from shoulder to waist.

Red and green fluids splattered across the floor.

There was a steel pole in the center of the party hall.

Various... instruments hung on the wall.

Whips, chains, stun batons, and some things Hillel couldn’t even name.

In the corner was a video camera, its red light blinking.

Big shots always loved recording their fun.

Hillel had no intention of turning the camera off. He wanted to show exactly what violence looked like, what the hell slaughter actually meant.

One minute later.

The entire party hall was drenched in blood.

Severed limbs were scattered across the floor. Blood covered everything and made it slippery to walk on.

Hillel’s cape was stained red.

Maeve and Homelander didn’t even need to be mentioned; the two of them were soaked in it.

"Got carried away and forgot to leave a few alive. I think I just crushed the former Secretary of Defense to death?"

Homelander wiped his sweat, though now he couldn’t tell the difference between sweat and blood.

"I killed several Vought executives I recognized, plus a few people from the board."

Maeve also gave her kill count.

"I should get you two disability certificates. My grandmother could kill better than either of you. Go home, kids! Go home!"

Hillel was a blur. He just hit whenever he saw a cockroach, and whoever he hit.. died.

____

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