𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 | 𝐋𝐄𝐎

The morning sun filtered through the gaps in the blinds, casting a grid of shadows on the floor that felt both familiar and foreign. I was in the penthouse—my sanctuary in a world gone mad—but nothing felt safe anymore. Each tick of the clock seemed to echo the chaos from last night, the unbearable weight of Carrie's revelation wrapping around my chest like a vice. Homelander had done to her what he had done to my mother. The thought twisted my stomach, a reminder that monsters wore masks, and sometimes they were even called heroes.

I couldn't shake the image of her, the raw power simmering beneath her surface, the devastation in her eyes when she spoke of losing control. She didn't know what she was capable of, and it scared me. I couldn't let her become another casualty in this war. I had to find a way to help her, but how?

I grabbed my phone, the screen lighting up with a message from Carrie. She was alive. That was a small relief, but I knew it wouldn't last. The danger was still there, lurking, waiting for its moment to strike.

ME: Carrie, are you okay?

My heart raced as I stared at the blank screen, unsure of how to proceed. I wanted to flood her with words, to comfort her and protect her, but what could I say that wouldn't come off as empty platitudes? She had just faced something unimaginable, and here I was, the unknown number she was reluctant to trust.

The phone buzzed again—another message.

CARRIE: I'm alive. Don't do anything rash.

A knot tightened in my stomach. I felt like I was standing on a precipice, ready to plunge into darkness, unsure if there was a way back. I had to tread carefully; I couldn't push her too hard.

I typed back, my fingers hovering over the screen.

ME: What happened last night?

I waited, heart racing as the seconds dragged on.

Finally, her reply came through.

CARRIE: I don't know if I can explain it.

My pulse quickened. I needed to know what she was going through, what she had felt. There was a weight of urgency behind my next message, a desperate need to reach her through the chaos.

ME: Try me.

A long pause hung in the air before she responded.

CARRIE: I lost control. Things got... messy.

I felt a surge of frustration. "Messy" was an understatement. This wasn't just about broken furniture; it was about Carrie's mental state, about the darkness that had seeped into her life and made a home there. I had to get through to her, to remind her she wasn't alone.

ME: Maeve was with you? What did she say?

Her response was quicker this time.

CARRIE: She said he's waiting for me to crack. That I need to be smart.

There it was—the fear that had followed her like a shadow. Maeve's warning echoed in my mind, each word a reminder of the precarious balance we were all walking.

ME: She's right. He's playing a long game, Carrie. You're not just another target. He's planning something.

The silence on the other end felt heavy. I knew she was processing, wrestling with the reality of what I was saying.

CARRIE: What do I do? How do I fight someone like him?

There was a weight behind her words that made my chest ache. I wanted to tell her to fight, to unleash everything she had, but that wasn't the answer. Not yet.