A Homelander Megalomania Showcase

He stood above them.

High above the ruins of what had once been a city street, Homelander hovered, arms spread wide, a god basking in the reverence of his subjects.

Below, the crowd—thousands deep, stretching endlessly through the streets—chanted his name.

“Homelander! Homelander! Homelander!”

The sound was a tidal wave, crashing over him, filling him, electrifying every nerve in his body. This—this was what he was meant for. Not boardrooms, not bullshit PR stunts, not pretending to be anything less than divine.

A red, white, and blue halo of neon and fire glowed behind him, casting his perfect, chiseled features in stark relief. Above the buildings, holographic billboards broadcast his face, his voice, his message—his truth.

“My fellow Americans—”

The crowd roared, and he felt it, the adoration, the worship, the way their eyes drank him in like he was their only light in the dark.

“You were lost! Weak! Crawling on your knees like frightened, useless little insects while the filth of this world tried to take everything from you!”

He swept his gaze over them, his perfect, radiant smile stretching just wide enough to feel inhuman.

“But I saved you.”

“I lifted you up when no one else would.”

“I gave you order!”

They cheered so loudly the sound vibrated through his bones, rattled the very air. Some wept, hands clasped together like he was the Second Coming of Christ.

And why not?

He was better than Christ.

Jesus hadn’t saved America. He had.

Jesus didn’t wipe out the weak, the useless, the ones who didn’t deserve to stand beside him.

He had.

“And what do I ask for in return?”

He descended slowly, just enough that they could see him, really see him, his expression shifting, softening.

“Loyalty.”

“Obedience.”

“Faith.”

He spread his arms again, his cape billowing behind him.

“And if you give me that—if you give me everything—I will make this world perfect.”

Another cheer, another wave of euphoria crashing through his chest.

And then—movement.

A man in the third row, pushing against the crowd, trying to shove his way out.

A flicker of something less than devotion in his eyes.

Homelander’s expression didn’t change, but something inside him curled, coiled, constricted.

Slowly, so impossibly gently, he lifted a single hand.

The crowd froze.

A ripple of silence spread outward, tension snapping tight, every person holding their breath as his gaze settled on the man.

He was nobody.

Just another pathetic human who hadn’t learned his place.

“Something wrong, buddy?” Homelander’s voice was still smooth, calm, honey-dripping charm.

The man shook his head violently.

“No—no, sir, I—”

“No, no, no, you seemed upset. You seemed like maybe you don’t belong here.”

The crowd parted around the man like the sea retreating from shore, exposing him, leaving him stranded and alone.

Homelander smiled.

“C’mon. Speak up. You don’t like what I have to say?”

The man’s breath hitched. His whole body shook.

Homelander could hear his heart pounding, feel his muscles seizing with terror.

Good.

The man swallowed, visibly trying to compose himself.

“I—I just wanted to leave, that’s all. I—”

“Ohhh, you just wanted to leave.” Homelander tilted his head, his expression soft, understanding.

And then—

Heat vision.

Not enough to kill. Just enough to melt the soles of the man’s shoes to the concrete.

The man screamed.

The crowd screamed with him—but not in protest. Not in horror.

In fucking approval.

Homelander let the man’s shrieks stretch out, his own smile never faltering.

Then, finally, when the writhing mess of flesh and pain stopped thrashing, he spoke.

“You’re free to leave, pal.”

His voice was gentle. Encouraging.

“Go ahead.”

The man couldn’t move. Couldn’t stand. Could barely even breathe.

The crowd laughed.

Homelander lifted his gaze back to them, the warmth returning to his eyes.

“See?” He spread his arms, almost mockingly.

“I’m not a dictator. I don’t make anyone stay. But if you do stay, you stay because you believe in me.”

The applause was deafening.

Homelander took it in—let it wash over him, let it fill the spaces inside him that could never quite feel full.

Because this—this moment, this adoration, this power—

It would never be enough.

But for now?

It would do.