Thomas's voice was sharp. Angry in a way Bruce rarely heard.
"You infiltrated a classified government mission without authorization. You exposed yourself to cosmic radiation. You nearly died. And you didn't tell us about your life threatening decision!"
Martha stood beside him, her arms crossed. She wasn't angry. She was something worse. Disappointed.
"Bruce, you could have told us what you were planning," Martha said quietly, examining his body.
Bruce sat on the hospital bed. His new body felt unfamiliar. Taller. More defined.
His eyes had changed—dark blue now instead of golden. The transformation had settled into something stable. Something controlled.
"I'm sorry," Bruce said. He met their eyes directly. "
Thomas's jaw clenched. But he didn't argue. He understood his son's logic even if he hated it.
"Don't do that again," Thomas said finally. "Don't make decisions that affect this family without telling us."
"I know," Bruce replied. "I won't."
Martha walked to him and held his face in her hands. She looked at his new eyes.
Three Weeks Later - Clark's Apartment, Metropolis
Bruce stood at the window, looking out at the city lights.
Clark opened the door with two beers in his hands. He'd known Bruce was coming. The Kryptonian could always sense him now.
"Thanks for coming," Clark said simply. He handed Bruce a beer.
"Thank you," Bruce replied. He turned to face Clark directly. "For protecting me from Fury. For not letting S.H.I.E.L.D. take me."
Clark shrugged. "You didn't deserve to be a lab rat."
"Most would disagree," Bruce said. He took a sip. The beer was cold. Normal. Everything felt normal now except it wasn't.
They stood in silence for a moment.
Then Bruce's expression shifted. The casual moment was over.
...
Wayne Manor - The Training Room - Night
Bruce stood in the center of a massive space.
His hands moved slowly through the air.
A tennis ball floated three meters away. Suspended by his will. His telekinesis.
He focused. Harder. The ball began to rotate. Slowly at first. Then faster. Faster.
His body remained still. Only his mind was working.
[Control. Everything is about control.]
The ball spun so fast it became a blur. Then—he released it. The ball shot across the room at supersonic speed and embedded itself in the reinforced wall, leaving a crater.
Bruce checked his hands. No tremor. No pain. The power was becoming natural.
He raised his hand and electricity began to arc between his fingers. Golden electricity now, more controlled than before. He shaped it. Twisted it. Formed it into geometric patterns just to prove he could.
The lights in the room flickered from the proximity of the electric field.
Wade watched from the doorway, eating an apple. "So you're basically a god now?"
"Not a god," Bruce replied. He dismissed the electricity. "Just... more."
"You're deflecting," Wade observed. "Something's bothering you."
Bruce didn't answer immediately. He walked to the window overlooking the manor grounds.
"I watched the news," Bruce said finally. "Vought International. They're launching a superhero organization."
"Yeah, so? We have the Justice League."
"They have something different," Bruce said quietly. "Something engineered. Something unstable."
He pulled up his hacked files on the wall-mounted screen.
Compound V. The super-soldier serum.
Frederick Vought. German scientist. WWII. The original creator.
Abraham Erskine. The man who created Captain America.
[The worlds are overlapping more than I thought.]
And then the final file: Soldier Boy.
Created by Vought using Compound V. Better than Captain America. Stronger. Faster. But unstable. Unpredictable. Captured by Hydra years ago.
"Bruce?" Wade stepped closer. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking," Bruce said slowly, "that Vought International might have just released something they can't control. And if that something is Soldier Boy—"
"Then we have a problem," Wade finished.
Bruce nodded.
[Another threat. Another faction. Another variable.]
He looked at the screens displaying Vought's announcement. At Homelander's smile. At the promise of a new era of heroes.
[They don't understand what they're starting.]