The air smelled of burned earth and metal.
The dust from the crater still hung over the backyard grass, mixed with the cutting cold of late afternoon. Becca held Ryan against her chest — his body was still trembling, his gaze lost somewhere in the distance, where Homelander and Butcher had disappeared into the clouds.
The sound arrived before anything could be seen.
First the low hum of engines… then tires skidding across asphalt.
And then the characteristic noise of boots marching in sync.
Becca lifted her face, alarmed.
Through the gaps in the fence, she saw the flashing red and blue lights.
Black cars, armored SUVs — the Vought International symbol gleaming on the doors.
" No… not now," she murmured, pulling Ryan further into the house.
But it was already too late.
The vehicle doors opened all at once, and a dozen armed agents in dark suits and reflective glasses advanced through the yard.
Calculated movements. Trained.
Every step they made sounded the same — mechanical, precise, impersonal.
The first one spoke with the metallic tone of a radio.
" Mrs. Butcher, please keep your hands visible. We are here to ensure your safety."
Becca positioned herself between them and Ryan, her face pale, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
" 'Safety' ?" she shot back, her voice shaking with anger. " I know what that word means to you people. You came to take my son."
The leading agent didn't respond.
He merely raised his hand, signaling for the others to surround the house.
Ryan watched everything in silence.
The sound of their hearts — thump, thump, thump — was too loud.
He could feel every breath, the smell of fear, the metal of the weapons.
Everything was… intense. Painful.
Becca turned to him.
" Stay behind me, Ryan," she said, firm despite trembling. " Let me handle this."
But the boy didn't move.
There was something different in his eyes — a silent, heavy focus.
One of the agents approached, extending his hand.
" It's okay, kid. We're just going to take you somewhere safe, alright ?" he said in a rehearsed tone, calm to the point of being fake.
Ryan stared at him.
" I'm safe right here," he answered softly.
The man tried to grab him by the arm.
But as soon as the fingers touched the fabric of his sleeve, Ryan reacted instinctively.
He closed his hand around the agent's wrist — not violently, just firmly.
But the result was immediate.
The sound of metal bending echoed in the air.
The agent froze, his face twisting with pain and fear.
The others raised their guns on reflex, but hesitated when they saw the boy's expression.
There was no hatred there.
Only fear… and sadness.
" I don't want to hurt anyone," Ryan said, his voice trembling, barely a whisper. " But don't try to take me."
The agent stumbled backward, and the tension exploded in the air.
The others prepared to act, fingers on the trigger — until a deep, controlled voice cut through the tension.
" Lower your weapons."
The command was calm, but it sounded like a verdict.
The agents stopped immediately.
The voice came from the entrance of the house.
Becca turned and felt the blood drain from her face.
There, standing in the doorway, was Stan Edgar.
Dark suit, immaculate. Hands clasped behind his back.
The expression calm — cold, precise, almost… paternal.
He walked in silence, his steps slow and steady, as if he had all the time in the world.
Every eye followed him — even the agents seemed to shrink under his presence.
Becca swallowed hard, tightening her grip on her son.
" What do you want, Stan ?" she asked, voice breaking. "Did you come to finish what the Captain started ?"
Edgar stopped a few meters away, surveying the scene: the destroyed yard, the cracked ground, the boy with glowing eyes, the nervous agents.
He sighed softly.
" No, Mrs. Butcher," he said in that serene, authoritative tone that made everything sound inevitable. " I came to prevent the same mistake from happening again."
He looked directly at Ryan.
" We just saw what you're capable of, boy," he said. " Vought will have questions. But I, personally, prefer reason over force."
Ryan looked away, his hands still trembling.
" I don't want to hurt anyone…" he murmured.
" I know," Edgar replied without hesitation. " That's why you're still standing here, breathing freely."
Becca stepped forward, her eyes burning with contained hatred.
" You're not touching him."
Edgar held her gaze for a long moment.
" I don't touch anyone, Mrs. Butcher," he said with a calm that sounded like a threat. " I only offer options."
Silence settled once again.
Even the wind seemed to stop.
Edgar turned back to Ryan, his expression neutral, but his eyes… evaluating.
" You are not like your father," he said, voice deep. " And you are not like us. But what you do from today on… will determine the future of you and your mother."
Ryan stared at him, not fully understanding, but something in that voice held him still.
It wasn't fear.
He couldn't describe it.
Edgar looked around, then fixed his gaze on the house behind them.
" This property is now under direct Vought supervision," he announced. " No agent will lay a hand on you. Not for now."
He turned, adjusting his suit as he walked back toward the cars.
" I'll return tomorrow," he added. " And when I do, boy… I expect you to be ready to talk."
The agents slowly retreated, following the order.
Becca watched until the last vehicle disappeared down the road.