HOT MILK - HOMELANDER

COLD FROTH

They boarded the plane separately.

Billy gave Jane an acknowledging nod when he saw her but said nothing, a hint of relief softening his usual stern expression.

The flight stretched out for eight hours, and with each passing minute, Jane's nerves tightened.

She retrieved her suitcase—lightly packed, as she had no idea how long she would be staying—and stepped out into the bustling chaos of the airport, annoyed that Billy hadn't given her explicit instructions on where to go next.

Standing outside, she contemplated booking a flight back home. As doubt began to creep in, a battered car pulled up, its engine rumbling like an old beast.

It was Billy.

Without a word, she climbed into the passenger seat, and they sped off into the city's heart. Jane stared out the window, watching as the sprawling cityscape of towering skyscrapers and neon lights blurred past.

It was a far cry from the serene, isolated life she had carved out for herself. The streets buzzed with life, starkly contrasting the quiet, windswept Scottish hills she had left behind.

The air smelled different here—thicker, charged with electric energy that made her feel alive and uneasy.

"There's no need to be nervous," Billy's voice cut through the air, and Jane couldn't help but scoff inwardly.

Nervous?

Of course, she was, though admitting it to Billy was out of the question. She felt foolish for allowing him to persuade her into this shit.

If there was one thing Jane excelled at, it was putting up a facade of nonchalance.

"What the fuck should I be nervous about?" Jane retorted, her annoyance palpable.

Billy chuckled, unfazed. "That's the spirit." Parking in a questionable spot, Billy earned a sceptical look from Jane.

"I see your operation's got a high-end budget," she quipped, stepping out of the car beside him.

"We need to keep a low profile for now. I'm working on securing us a better place," Billy explained, closing the car door firmly before leading Jane toward the dilapidated entrance.

"Oi!" Billy's voice boomed as they entered. "This is my niece, Jane," Billy announced, guiding her forward with a hand on her shoulder.

"She's here to help us take down Homelander."

Jane had never been adept at navigating groups of people, not surprising as she had spent most of her life trapped, chained, and drugged to the brink of oblivion.

Post-escape, her only fundamental social interactions were at the rowdy Scottish pub in her village.

It took a while for her to muster the courage to step into that pub, but it eventually became her sanctuary.

The regulars didn't know who she was or what she could do; to them, she was simply Jane—the woman who brought cookies every Friday, who loved to bicker about whose team would win and who had a dry sense of humour.

Here, however, she was a supe —a potential threat.
And she wondered how to approach this new group.

She decided to stick with the same front she had with Billy: nonchalance.

"This one right here is Frenchie," Billy introduced, motioning to a man with a kind smile and an easy demeanour.

Then Billy pointed to another guy, looking slightly frazzled. "This is Hughie," he said.