Vought Tower, 72nd Floor
Hang's clone walked down the corridor in a suit, holding a tablet.
His face had been altered using Morph Mimicry—a white male in his mid-thirties, receding hairline, glasses perched on his nose. He looked like an ordinary mid-level employee.
His telepathy remained active. A mental network blanketed the entire floor.
The receptionist was thinking about what to wear for her date tonight.
A department manager worried about quarterly reports.
A security guard scrolled through news about The Seven.
No one noticed him.
Morph Mimicry didn't just change appearance—it replicated temperament. Right now, Hang's clone radiated the exact "Vought employee frequency": fatigue, anxiety, and subtle sycophancy toward superiors.
Perfectly blended in.
At the archive room entrance—he swiped a card.
Access granted.
The card had been lifted from a supervisor's pocket ten minutes ago. With the Law of Space, taking something unnoticed was trivial. The man still hadn't realized it was gone.
The archive room was massive. Metal cabinets lined the walls, with several computer terminals in the center.
Hang's clone sat at the far end and logged in with the supervisor's credentials.
The screen lit up.
He opened: Compound V Research Files.
Documents flooded the screen—records spanning over fifty years, from 1971 to present.
He skimmed rapidly.
Compound V was first developed by a Nazi scientist, Frederick Vought. After World War II, he was recruited by the United States and continued research under government funding.
The military later abandoned the project.
The mortality rate was too high.
Vought Corporation took over and shifted direction. They no longer pursued stable super-soldiers—they pursued maximum commercial value.
High mortality didn't matter. Even a 1% success rate was enough to produce marketable superheroes.
Hang's clone opened a classified document.
Compound V Composition Analysis.
Dozens of base chemicals. Three enzymes extracted from unknown organisms, labeled: X-17, X-23, X-31.
Then came the key.
Compound V wasn't a drug.
It was a catalyst.
It forcibly activated dormant genetic potential in humans, creating superpowers—but the process was completely random.
Flight. Strength. Speed. Regeneration. Telepathy. Invisibility. Elemental control.
All determined by chance.
Those three mysterious enzymes came from three naturally gifted superhumans.
In the 1970s, Vought captured them, extracted genetic samples repeatedly, and refined these enzymes.
They died long ago.
But their genetic fragments were replicated, cultured, mass-produced—and injected into thousands.
Hang's clone scrolled further.
Homelander's file.
Date of birth: unknown.
Actual origin: created in a lab in 1981.
A newborn infant was injected with a pure version of Compound V.
The dosage was ten times higher than standard.
Within three days, the infant experienced seventeen genetic collapses, each near-fatal—until stabilization.
He became the most perfect superhuman.
Flight. Strength. Speed. Hearing. Heat vision. Invulnerability.
A near-perfect Superman replica.
The cost was recorded clearly.
> "Subject exhibits severe emotional deficiency and antisocial tendencies. Recommend termination."
—Evaluation Report, 1985.
Stamped below:
> "Denied. Continue development. Apply psychological control if necessary."
Hang's clone stared at the line.
He understood.
Homelander had always been a failed product.
Compound V gave him godlike power—and destroyed his humanity.
Vought never abandoned him.
He was too valuable.
Package him properly, put him on stage—and he became the perfect cash machine.
Mental instability? Suppress it with drugs. Control it with conditioning. Drown it in applause and camera flashes.
Hang's clone closed the file and stood.
He needed a closer look.
Not through telepathy—through direct observation of Compound V at the biological level.
---
99th Floor
The elevator ascended.
Security here was tight—but meaningless against the Law of Space.
As the doors opened, Hang's clone distorted light and sound around himself, slipping into a perceptual blind spot.
He moved silently down the corridor, bypassed cameras, avoided armed guards, and stopped outside Homelander's private lounge.
The door wasn't locked.
Homelander never worried about intruders.
The clone entered.
The room was luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking New York. But the atmosphere was oppressive. Curtains drawn. Dim yellow lighting.
Homelander sat on a sofa. A glass of milk rested on the table.
He picked it up and drank slowly. His eyes were empty.
Hang's clone remained in the shadows, activating both super hearing and telepathy—dual-layer analysis.
He heard something inside Homelander's body.
Not a heartbeat.
Not blood flow.
Genetic chains vibrating.
Cells modified by Compound V were operating at extreme frequency—millions of energy conversions per second.
They weren't natural.
They had been forcibly reshaped.
The clone pushed deeper with mental perception.
Inside each cell nucleus was a cluster of purple matter.
Not DNA.
A residue left by Compound V.
It absorbed energy—from blood, air, light—then converted it into superpowers.
But it was unstable.
Expanding. Contracting. Competing with normal cells.
Homelander's body existed in a constant loop of destruction and regeneration—on the brink of collapse every second.
That was the truth of Compound V.
It didn't grant power.
It turned humans into unstable energy vessels—burning life as fuel.
Hang's clone looked deeper.
At the core of the purple matter was a microscopic rune, etched at the molecular level.
Not natural.
Designed.
Alchemy.
Not magic. Not science.
Something in between.
Rewriting life's foundation through material transformation.
The clone's pupils shrank.
Now he understood.
Compound V worked because it was an application of the Law of Alchemy.
Humans were raw materials. Catalysts forced transformation into superhumans.
Low success rate. Severe side effects. Mental collapse.
All standard costs of alchemy.
Equivalent exchange.
To gain power, something must be sacrificed.
Compound V took humanity, sanity, and lifespan as payment.
---
Homelander set down the glass and stood.
Hang's clone held still, wrapped in spatial concealment.
Homelander walked to the window and pulled the curtains open.
Sunlight streamed in.
He smiled.
A perfect smile.
Practiced countless times.
"I'm a hero," he murmured.
"Everyone loves me."
But his hand trembled.
His nails dug into his palm. Blood dripped onto the carpet. His regeneration healed the wound—then he clenched again, reopening it.
Again. And again.
Hang's clone realized—
Homelander used pain to suppress the darkness inside.
Without it, he would snap.
And burn the city to ash.
---
The clone raised his hand. A faint golden glow appeared.
The Superpower Copier System activated.
A notification echoed in his mind:
> Detected special ability system. Analyzing…
Golden light extended like invisible tendrils, reaching toward Homelander.
They bypassed his body—directly connecting to the purple matter.
Homelander suddenly turned. His eyes glowed red.
"Who's there?"
Heat vision charged.
But he saw nothing.
Hang's clone stood in a spatial layer—between reality and void.
Homelander scanned with super hearing, X-ray vision.
Nothing.
"Damn it…"
He rubbed his temples and turned away.
---
Copy complete.
The system prompt sounded again:
> Copy successful. Concept acquired: [Law of Alchemy].
Not super strength.
Not heat vision.
Not flight.
But the foundation behind them all.
The Law of Alchemy.
Material restructuring. Energy conversion. Life distortion.
The ability to forcibly grant superpowers.
A new domain of knowledge unfolded in the clone's mind.
Not a single ability—but an entire system.
Gene extraction. Catalyst design. Molecular rune engraving. Human transformation.
Compound V was just a crude application.
True alchemy could do far more.
Not limited to humans—any lifeform could be modified.
Success rates improved. Side effects reduced. Powers customized.
But the cost remained.
Equivalent exchange was absolute.
Hang's clone closed his eyes, absorbing the knowledge.
Minutes later, he opened them and left the room.
Homelander still stood by the window, lost in his illusion—unaware anyone had been there.
The clone exited silently, took the elevator down to the underground parking lot, and left Vought Tower.
Outside, night had fallen. Neon lights flickered on.
He looked up at the glowing emblem of The Seven atop the tower.
The Law of Alchemy was now his.
The power system of this universe—
Fully understood.
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