Utopian had become a force of nature. He tore through the corridors of the underground base like a unleashed hurricane. The reinforced doors, designed to withstand conventional assaults, shattered into pieces under the pure force of his impacts. He didn't go around them; he pulverized them, leaving behind a wake of twisted metal and cracked concrete.
The guards, equipped with high-powered weapons and light armor, tried to form barricades. Their efforts were pathetic. Utopian didn't even slow down. He moved through them, an unstoppable arrow. A simple gesture of his hand sent a man flying against a wall, knocking him out cold. A concentrated glance at a flamethrower caused its tank to overheat and explode before it could even be used. It was a demonstration of power so absolute it was terrifying.
Deadshot followed in his wake, just as effective but more discreet. Every security camera he spotted was reduced to splinters by a perfectly placed shot. He was erasing their trail, a ghost following the wake of an angry god.
With a thunderous BOOM that shook the entire structure, Utopian finally arrived in the main hall, facing the elevator shafts. He waited, motionless amidst the chaos, for Deadshot to join him.
Floyd arrived, slightly winded but impressed. "Damn, you don't do things by halves, do you?"
Utopian, his voice calm yet charged with power: "Once we're topside, we go our separate ways."
Deadshot,nodding: "Works for me."
Without warning, Utopian scooped Deadshot into his arms. With a powerful kick, he smashed through the roof of the stalled elevator. Then, with a roar of kinetic energy, he shot upward, blasting through the levels of the underground base like a missile. Each floor shook from his passage, ceilings collapsing behind him. The light of day suddenly appeared, blinding. Freedom.
But freedom was a war zone. A line of T-72 tanks and a company of soldiers in combat exoskeletons awaited them, deployed in a semi-circular formation.
Utopian set Deadshot down behind a steel container. "Stay here."
Then he turned and faced the army.
The first tank fired. The 125mm shell hit Utopian square in the chest in a blinding flash and a deafening detonation. The smoke cleared, revealing Utopian still standing, a slight wisp of smoke rising from his chest. It had barely made him flinch. Heavy machine guns chattered, but the bullets ricocheted off his skin like gravel, leaving no marks.
His body, reforged by the Compound V under the stress and the stimulant, had reached a new level. Before, his powers, inherited from Homelander, were imperfect, unstable. Now, they were nearing perfection. He was a being of near-absolute density and durability.
In her palace, Queen Bee watched the monitors, fascinated. Her fingers lightly touched her diadem. She had never anticipated such an outcome. Compound V had performed another miracle, creating a being of a power she could no longer contain.
On the battlefield, Utopian walked calmly towards the tank that had fired. He ripped the cannon barrel off as if it were a twig, tossing it aside with contempt. He spotted the commanding officer, a man in a more elaborate exoskeleton, giving frantic orders.
Utopian flew, crossing the line of fire as if it were nothing, and grabbed the officer by the collar of his armor, lifting him to eye level.
Then, he raised his head, looking directly at one of the reconnaissance drones circling above, knowing Queen Bee was watching.
Utopian, his voice amplified, carrying clearly across the battlefield: "Queen Bee! I know you're watching. Listen carefully. Never send me an invitation like this again."
He tightened his grip slightly on the officer's collar, who let out a stifled whimper.
"Otherwise," Utopian continued, "you won't have an army left. And if you have no army..."
He dropped the officer, who collapsed to the ground, gasping.
"... your enemies will certainly want your head. See you never."
With those final words, he shot one last burning glare at the drone, then, with a supersonic bang, he vanished into the sky, leaving behind a routed army, destroyed vehicles, and a warning that would echo in the halls of power for a very, very long time.