I found Shatterstar not by hunting him, but by letting him find me. I went to the industrial district not with stealth, but with a visible, solitary presence. I stood in the center of a rusted-out factory floor, the moonlight slicing through broken windows, and I waited.
It didn't take long.
"Mazahs," a voice echoed from the steel rafters high above. "Vought's attack dog. Come to put me down?"
Marcus Jones dropped down, landing with a clang on a catwalk. He was young, maybe early twenties, with a defiant glint in his eyes and a costume that was more punk rock than corporate hero.
"I'm not here for Vought," I said, my voice echoing in the vast space. "I'm here for you."
He laughed, a harsh, brittle sound. "What, you recruiting for the Seven now? Need a new mascot?"
"I'm recruiting for the war," I replied, taking a step forward. "The real one. The one against Homelander."
That got his attention. The smirk vanished from his face. "You're insane. You can't fight him. No one can."
"I can," I said, and I let a fraction of my power show. Not the black lightning, not the gravity warping. Just a whisper of the sheer, immense potential that resided within me. The air grew heavy, the dust motes freezing in place. "I've faced him twice and lived. I know how he thinks. I know his weaknesses."
Shatterstar stared at me, his bravado replaced by a calculating wariness. "Why me? I'm nobody."
"Because you're loud," I said honestly. "And right now, the world needs a different noise. Not Vought's lies. Not Homelander's threats. A voice that says we don't have to be monsters or mascots. That there's another way."
I reached out, not with my power, but with a raw, unvarnished truth. "They want me to bring you in. To prove my loyalty by crushing the first sign of dissent. I'm not going to do that. I'm asking you to stand with me."
He was silent for a long time, the only sound the creaking of the old factory. I could see the war in his eyes—the fear, the desire to survive, and the spark of something else: hope.
"And if I say no?" he finally asked.
"Then you walk away," I said. "And I'll find another way. But you'll always wonder what would have happened if you'd been brave enough to say yes."
He looked at me, really looked at me, and I saw the moment his decision was made. The defiance returned, but it was sharper now, more focused.
"Shatterstar's a stupid name," he said, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Call me Marcus. And what's the plan, 'Mr. Chairman'?"
The first piece was on the board. The first recruit. It was a small, fragile beginning. But as I stood there in the ruins of the old world, with a new ally at my side and a god-killing weapon sleeping in my soul, I felt the tide turning.
The key was in the lock. It was time to start turning.