[ The next day ]
[ White House ]
The camera feed clicks on. The seal of the President of the United States glints behind Victoria as she stands at the podium, composed. She wears a deep blue blazer, her expression unreadable but commanding.
To her right stands Maeve stoic, arms crossed, the battle-hardened warrior. On the left, Starlight radiant, calm, her hands folded gently in front of her round belly. And just behind her stands Homelander.
All three women project strength. Unity. A new order.
"Citizens of the United States" President Neuman begins, her voice steady, unflinching. "And to those watching across the world. You've seen what this planet has endured. The devastation in the wake of the recent rampage. Cities torn apart. Families shattered. Lives lost in seconds. No nation no military was prepared."
A pause. Just enough for the weight to sink in.
"Today, I speak not only as your President.. but as a mother. As a human being. As someone who has stood on the edge of fear and chosen resolve instead."
She glances briefly to her right and left Queen Maeve and Starlight flank her. Towering, calm.
"We are entering a new era. The old world, ruled by slow response and bureaucratic hesitation, is gone. The reality is this: Supes are no longer anomalies. They are necessities. And they are ready to lead."
Maeve shifts slightly, her jaw tight. She nods.
"With me stand two of the most powerful women alive. Queen Maeve. Starlight. Warriors who have shed blood to keep this country standing. And soon, they will bring forth a new generation. As will I."
Homelander, visible on the background, watches with a flicker of a smile. Quiet pride. His legacy now written into bloodlines.
"We are not symbols. We are continuity. We are strength. This is not the end of America. This is its evolution." She straightens, and her tone sharpens like a blade.
"Effective immediately, under the powers granted to me by the Constitution in times of national emergency, I am declaring martial law in the continental United States."
Gasps erupt across networks. She speaks over them, unshaken.
"Federal and Supe authority will act as one. Unified. Direct. Uncompromising. There will be order. There will be security. And yes there will be justice." A beat of silence. The weight of what she's just done pulses through every camera, every screen.
"To those who would challenge us: your time is over. The days of unchecked chaos.. are done. From this moment forward, we will govern. We will protect. And we will not back down."
The camera lingers on the trio Neuman, Maeve, and Starlight poised like sentinels. Mothers of the next generation. Pillars of a new regime. Behind them, the shadow of Homelander looms large.
Across Europe, Asia, and Africa, world leaders and governments convene emergency councils. The revelation that the President of the United States is pregnant with a child presumed to be immensely powerful, sends diplomatic channels into frenzy.
In France, a prime-time political analyst remarks. "What she didn't say is just as important as what she did. This child it's not just personal. It's a symbol of genetic succession."
Meanwhile, Russia's propaganda machine denounces the United States as 'officially fallen to a genetically elite autocracy'.
In online forums, hashtags trend globally, #PregPresident, #NewEmpire, #Bloodline.
The subtext of her speech that the future belongs to those born with power ripples across ideologies. Some imagine a new era of security and leadership. Others worries of hereditary despotism.
In Europe, smaller nations demand protections against 'genetically inherited dominance'.
But in the U.S, Approval ratings soar.
The people saw devastation from alien strength. And they saw Victoria Neuman standing tall with three living legends beside her. Pregnant. Confident and unafraid.
[ Months Later ]
Grace Malory sits alone in her dimly lit safe house, the air thick with the scent of old books and gun oil. A secure laptop sits before her, the screen glowing ominously as a new message pings into her encrypted inbox.
The sender is anonymous, but the attachment? Labeled "SED Contingency Alpha".
Her stomach tightens. Stan Edgar had always been a cold, calculating bastard one who never left anything to chance. If this message arrived after his death, it meant he had planned for it.
She exhales sharply and clicks the file.
A video feed flickers to life. Stan Edgar's face appears, composed as ever, his sharp gaze meeting hers through the screen.
"If you're watching this, Malory, then I'm dead. Likely by Homelander's hand. No matter. I always suspected it would come to this. And I always knew that, in the end, you'd want revenge. For your grandkids, for William Butcher and all the others people you've lost."
Grace leans forward, her jaw tightening.
"There is a weapon. One we both thought lost to history."
The screen shifts, displaying grainy, classified footage images of a containment facility, heavily guarded, deep in Russian territory. Then a face appears. A man with rugged features, a cocky smirk frozen in time. Soldier Boy.
"He's alive. " Edgar continues. "Preserved, contained. Forgotten. And if you want a way to bring down Homelander...well, let's just say, I had my reasons for keeping this little secret." The screen goes dark.
Grace sits motionless for a long moment, her mind racing.
Then, she reaches for her phone.
"Get me a team."
The world is not the same.
The battle with Anissa marked a new era. Not one of rebuilding but of reshaping.
President Victoria Neuman now governs from a heavily secured White House, flanked not by Secret Service agents, but supes loyal to the new order. Legislation has shifted. Language has shifted. The word 'supe' no longer implies celebrity or hero it now means elite.
Those born without powers are still citizens.. but they are no longer equals.
The nation's capital glistens under an enhanced security grid. Armed patrols of supe-enforcement units monitor the streets. Civilian compliance rates remain high, and Vought-sponsored media floods the airwaves with tailored news praising the efficiency and safety of the new order.
President Neuman signs the Enhanced Authority Act, granting supes jurisdictional control over strategic infrastructure and emergency response. Homelander, standing at her side in full regalia, smiles before delivering his brief address.
"We are securing a future for our children. For the gifted, and for those wise enough to follow." He says.
Supes are granted legal immunity under federal law for actions taken during approved operations. A national registry begins to catalog latent supe potential among newborns. Maternity hospitals report mandatory V-screening for compatible genetics.
[ Neuman's Oval Office ]
Victoria Neuman stands behind the presidential podium during a televised address. Her expression is calm, poised. Her baby bump is now plainly visible beneath a tailored navy dress.
"This administration believes in strength. In progress. In securing a future where threats to human and supe kind alike are answered with decisive power. For too long, we've treated our strongest as tools restrained, mismanaged, distrusted. That ends today. We are entering an age of merit. A generation that will be born stronger, live longer, and protect better than ever before."
Behind the scenes, Homelander watches the broadcast with satisfaction. She doesn't name him. She doesn't need to. Everyone remotely smart watching knows he's the one who planted his seed deep into that womb.
Grace Malory watches the White House briefing from the dim glow of her laptop screen. The world is changing no, it's already changed. Victoria Neuman stands behind the podium, speaking of national unity, of moving forward, of a stronger America. It's all rehearsed, polished propaganda, the kind that makes people feel safe when they should be terrified.
Homelander stands just behind her. He doesn't even pretend anymore. He's there, looming like a golden specter, smiling as if he already owns everything.
The news anchors call it a symbol of stability. The President and her greatest protector.
Grace calls it what it is, a coup.
It's not just political dominance anymore. Neuman is pregnant, and that the father is the same man who casually strolls into the Oval Office like it's his living room.
Grace clenches her jaw. This is what they let happen. This is what happens when no one stops monsters.
She turns away from the screen. The real work is happening elsewhere.
A secured file sent to her from beyond the grave rests on the table. Stan Edgar had been many things, but reckless wasn't one of them. He knew Homelander was dangerous. He knew things might one day spiral beyond his control. And so, he left a contingency plan.
Grace's gaze shifts to the other screen a live satellite feed of a compound deep in Siberia.
[ Later ]
[ John's villa ]
A creeping and all too familiar pain was working its way up her spine as she stands. Annie leans from one foot to the other uselessly as it continues its trek to the center of her back. "We can talk about it later if you want. For now- " She steps aside and settles onto their bed. "I need to lay down." Annie adds.
He lifts her legs onto the bed and she close her eyes, taking a deep, relaxing breath. "Want a massage ?" He asks.
"I don't know.. " She says slowly, opening one eye.
He chuckles and held up his hands. "I promise, I'll be gentle."
Without waiting for an answer, he gingerly roll her onto her side and lift her blouse from behind. His fingers traces along her back, searching for any knots and when finding one, he press into it. True to his word, he's gentle, yet firm, rolling the bunched-up muscles around in his fingertips. Her back seizing up whenever he finds a new cluster and slowly relaxes as the sore spot loosen.
While he works on her back, Annie rolls up the front of her blouse and rubs her bulging stomach.
The weight gain, the cramps, the bloating, the nausea, the need for a new wardrobe. But knowing there is a tiny bundle of life growing within her, one that she could soon meet in person, made it all worth it.
She wrap her arm around her middle, giving it a sincere hug and willing all her love and affection to their awaited newborn son. She didn't realize John stop rubbing her back until he joins her, slipping his strong arm around her too.
"You're still worried, aren't you?" He mumbles into her hair.
She nods. "A little."
"You heard her today though. He's fully healthy and so are you." He retorts.
"And seeing as you're so healthy, why don't I distract you with something only two fit people could do?" His hand, slides under her bra, and his face pushes aside her hair, aiming for her slender neck.
She chuckles and turns her head to his. "You're insatiable, you know."
John climbs off the bed, quickly tearing off his pants and boxers. Annie remove her blouse and shifts on the bed, laying on her back and hanging her head off the side. John, now upside-down, approach her half-naked, his length growing before her face.
She reaches out for it, her fingers curling around it one by one, and giving it a short tug, urging him closer. He obey and the underside press against her cheek, warm and musky. The scent that she loves and that excited her own sex. His round sack sat on her forehead as she takes a moment to savor the heat against her face and runs her tongue along its length.
She see the urge overtaking him, filling him with desire for her. She oblige him silently, stretching her mouth wide for his girth and lifting her head up to take in half of it. John tightens up and dig his toes into the carpet. He leans forward, his arms stiffly grabbing bunches of bedsheets. Annie sensually withdraw and lift back up, taking him in again. At that point, as always, John's pelvis move of its own accord, helping her in pleasuring him so that she didn't need to move much in her condition.
He pulls out, leaving her mouth covered in warm, sloppy spit that drips down her cheeks. As she takes a few deep breaths, he wordlessly unsnap her bra and she let it drop off her arms.
"C'mere. " She says, panting and he slips it back in, thrusting into her throat and groaning somewhere above her.
She holds her head high, suckling hard and curling her tongue along a sensitive spot on the side of his shaft. Annie kiss the tip of his cock, tasting it and note the familiar and sticky salty flavor to it.
Before she can go another round on it, she feels a wet substance between her thighs. John finally unroll her panties to her knees and have his hand buried between her legs.
She tries to return to her sucking, but he arch his back and the dangling length out of reach. She snatch at air as he run his fingers along her slit, caressing and gradually spreading it.
"John~" She whines.
As he continues, a heat grows in her groin, rising up her stomach.
She wants to pleasure him too, but swiping at him is too exhausting and she lays back, letting him at it. His thumb press against her clit. As he relax, his pelvis slowly lowers and puts his shaft in her reach.
Her mouth is hung open and wide, but she barely pays much attention to his shiny cock touching her cheek. The feeling in the pit of her stomach is growing, rising up and surging through her body like tendrils. Her legs spreads wider on their own, encouraging John to keep going, while she bites on her knuckle.
Scooping her head up in one of his large arms and placing her comfortably on the bed, he hover over her, lining himself up. She grab either edge of her opening, spreading it wide for him, and he plow into her without delay. The fullness immediately pushes aside all worry and stress that have plagued her the whole day. John inside her made the world seem bright and perfect.
Annie's arms reaches up needily for him, finding those shoulders and wrapping around them. She pulls him in for a deep kiss as his dick works hard, sawing in and out of her. He's careful of her stomach, keeping himself angled above it.
She want nothing more than to keep this up, for him to make her his woman like always. But she prolonged the inevitable as much as possible. Her body is overly sensitive these days and even a simple position like this, coupled with John's rippling muscles quivering above her, is more than enough to drive her to a large finish.
"John~" She says, the all too familiar sensation spearing along her spine and making her whole being like a rubber band about to snap. She squeez him tighter to her ample and swollen breasts as he grunts, his girth tearing through to her cervix.
"John!" Annie shouts in pleasure.
He grunt as they reenact the very act that led them to her pregnancy to begin with. She arch her back in the climax, lifting it inches off the sheets. Above her, John slam into her again and again, each thrust planting another round of his precious seed deep within.
She reaches for the nearby nightstand, huffing and struggling against her stomach before snatching a book off the table. She holds it up to him, cracking it open to the page she had dog-earred earlier.
"We still need to pick a name." Annie says, smiling at him.
[ A few weeks later ]
[ A Secure Supe Maternity Wing ]
[ Colorado Rockies ]
Snow falls softly outside the mountain facility where Starlight, Annie January lies in a sterile but luxurious birthing room, gripping the rails of the reinforced hospital bed.
Her glow is visible even between contractions, light flickering beneath her skin like surging lightning. Homelander stands at her side, calm but focused, one gloved hand resting gently over hers.
"You're doing so good" He says quietly. "He's going to be strong. Just like us." He adds.
The delivery isn't easy the infant is already stronger than the doctors. But Annie doesn't scream. She channels every ounce of pain into her power, the windows around her flickering with golden light.
And then the cry of a newborn, loud and piercing enough to crack the light above them.
A boy.
With blue eyes so bright they seem unnatural.
Homelander lifts his son for the first time, the child already curling his fists with power neither of his parents needed to teach him.
Annie, exhausted, smiles faintly. "You see him ?" She whispers.
John stares at his son in silence. He whispers to his son "The world is ours."
" He's beautiful Annie, perfect." He answers her.
Starlight, exhausted but glowing, reaches out. He places their child in her arms. For a moment, all the power, all the politics, falls away. The memories of their wedding surfacing.
[ Flashback ]
Annie wasn't all that concerned about a big, grand wedding. What she really wanted was to skip to the part where they are truly husband and wife.
Due to the cold, the ceremony and reception was held in a fabulous church. The giant, hall had been decorated with gorgeous flowers. Annie wore an ivory slip-style dress that accentuated her curves. She felt elegant and beautiful even with her round and full belly. Her mother smiled as tears streamed down her face upon seeing her as she walked down the aisle. They could hardly keep their eyes off each other throughout the ceremony.
Her mother, was their ring bearer.
They exchanged rings and said their vows. As John slid the wedding band on her finger, Annie felt the butterflies in her stomach dissolve into burning joy. Images of her past and future flashed through her mind. And, she loved every part of it. From their first moments to the ones they had yet to make. He was the love of her life. They would be together forever.
The priest softly clasped his hands and beamed at them. "You may now kiss the bride." He says, staring at this 39 years old man marrying this young woman of 19.
The audience cheered as they embraced each other, kissing now as husband and wife. Maggie and Victoria looking at them with a bit of envy. John and Annie hardly took their eyes off one another as they danced during the reception. When they cut their wedding cake and fed each other, John playfully bit her finger. Annie gave him a knowing look. Their night would definitely be a long one.
[ Back to the present ]
Then Ashley, now CEO of Vought, steps in with the press plan. A hologram render of a peaceful father, heroic mother, and a child said to be the first natural-born supe of the new age.
With the birth of the first official Second Generation supe the child of two supes, born naturally, Victoria's administration pushes further its agenda.
Non-supe births will begin facing 'voluntary review' for Compound V infusion.
Military branches now include supe-led battalions. Propaganda rebrands the movement as a necessary step forward.