Chapter 34 : Missing
The stadium buzzed with energy under the late morning sun.
Crowds filled the stands wearing Seven merchandise while giant screens replayed Vought advertisements and clips of A-Train and Shockwave preparing for the race.
Commentators kept feeding the excitement nonstop as cameras swept across cheering sections looking for reactions.
Through the middle of that chaos, the Boys quietly moved into position.
Mother’s Milk disappeared into the crowd carrying a duffel bag while Butcher headed toward the seating area without drawing attention.
Near the media entrance, Hughie adjusted the fake press badge clipped to his jacket and tried his best not to look nervous.
Far beneath the stands, Frenchie crawled through the ventilation system above the restricted locker room corridor.
He kept his flashlight low and moved carefully toward A-Train’s locker room.
When he finally reached the correct section, he eased the vent cover aside slightly and looked down.
Then he froze.
Homelander stood alone in the corridor below.
Just Homelander standing silently outside the locker room with his hands behind his back.
Frenchie stayed completely still inside the vent.
"...Merde," he whispered under his breath.
The plan had just become far more complicated.
Below the vent, Homelander stopped moving.
Slowly, he lifted his head toward the ceiling.
Frenchie went rigid.
Homelander’s eyes swept the ventilation shafts, expression tightening like he could hear something but couldn’t place it.
Frenchie genuinely thought he was dead.
Then irritation crossed Homelander’s face.
"Fucking zinc," he muttered.
The galvanized lining turned the shafts into blind spots. Just enough to block his vision.
He hated blind spots.
Frenchie stayed frozen. Barely breathing. Not moving until Homelander’s attention drifted toward the stadium crowd roaring somewhere down the corridor.
Homelander’s expression remained mostly unchanged as the roar of the stadium echoed faintly through the corridor.
Only mild irritation showed on his face.
"A bunch of mongrels," he muttered quietly to himself.
He genuinely couldn’t understand why people cared about this race so much. Thousands of idiots packed into a stadium spending ridiculous amounts of money just to watch two supes run around a track faster than human eyes could properly follow.
Most of them wouldn’t even see anything clearly.
They would just scream and clap because Vought told them it was important.
The whole event felt beneath him.
If Homelander wanted to, he could finish the race in seconds without effort. Compared to flight and heat vision, watching speedsters sprint in circles honestly looked childish.
Still, Vought loved this kind of spectacle.
Cheap excitement sold well.
Homelander reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone while waiting outside the locker room.
The moment the screen lit up, another article about "The Devil" appeared among the trending stories.
His expression tightened slightly.
More people obsessing over some masked nobody.
This part irritated Homelander far more than he admitted openly.
Attention was supposed to stay on him.
Instead the public had become fascinated with some random psycho wearing a hoodie and firing lasers through buildings.
His thumb stopped briefly on another replay showing A-Train getting blasted through the convenience store wall.
Homelander’s eyes narrowed slightly.
The media kept putting them side by side like they belonged in the same category.
Like this "Devil" was important enough to stand beside him.
A faint smile finally appeared on Homelander’s face, though there was nothing pleasant about it.
"If I find that piece of shit," Homelander said quietly to himself, "I’ll rip him apart in front of everyone."
Above the corridor, Frenchie immediately pulled out his phone inside the vent and typed a message with shaking fingers.
Abort the plan. Homelander is standing outside the fucking locker room. We leave now.
The message reached the others almost instantly.
Inside the stadium seating area, Mother’s Milk checked the phone and his expression changed immediately.
"Shit."
Hughie leaned closer.
"What happened?"
"Homelander."
That single word was enough.
Hughie felt his stomach tighten instantly.
Because this wasn’t A-Train or Translucent.
This was Homelander.
The strongest supe alive.
If Homelander found them breaking into restricted areas beneath the stadium, there wouldn’t even be a fight. They would either die on the spot or disappear into some Vought prison nobody ever escaped from.
Mother’s Milk immediately looked toward Butcher.
"We need to pull out."
Hughie nodded quickly in agreement.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "This isn’t worth it."
Butcher looked down at the message for several seconds without answering.
Then slowly,he smiled.
***
On the upper viewing platform overlooking the stadium, Annie stood near the railing while the crowd below screamed for the race to begin.
But Annie’s attention wasn’t really on the race.
She glanced down at her phone again.
Still nothing.
Since yesterday, Mark hadn’t replied to any of her messages.
At first she assumed he was busy and would reply later that night, but he never did. Even now he still was not answering, and the fact he was no longer even seeing her messages started putting her on edge.
Annie typed another message.
Are you okay? Did something happen?
The message failed again.
No connection.
A slight frown appeared on her face before she tried calling instead.
The phone rang once before an automated voice answered.
"The user you are trying to reach is out of range."
Annie slowly lowered the phone.
*****
A/N: Advanced Chapters are available on Patreon.
👉 /Mark841
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