Tulsa

The distinctive stereo of professional athletics resonated from a modest home-entertainment setup in the living room of the Starr patriarchal estate in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

"So boy. Came back home to lick yo-wounds huh?" affectionately known as Pa-Pop, Samson's elderly yet sharp tongued grandfather had always had a special bond with his grandson. A way of getting through to the Superman of Superheroes at a time in which most everyone else in the World would have fearfully avoided the celebrity metahuman all together.

"Not now Pa-Pop. Just. Just watch the damn tv would ya?"

"Oh I been done watchin the 'damn' tv. Here, lets watch it together huh!" angrily pointing his cellphone at the screen using an app to change the channels until stopping on Channel 6 and their footage of Samson flying into the madness that was the Gato Islands.

"What were you thinkin boy? What if you had been infected? What if you had fallen? Who would continue the 'work' then?" heavily grabbing the wheels on either side of his wheelchair, Pa-Pop dramatically shook them to visually illustrate his theatrical point..

"All that for a girl? For a &^%$ing Liafador ni&&a you lost yo goddamn mind?"

Samson said nothing. Leaning forward with his arms stacked on his legs resting his face in the cup of his hands, the Cybersin Superman remained verbally stagnant.

"Its...its tough I know. Losing a soldier, a teammate in the field, it aint never easy but we gotta push forward you feel me? You know what we're really up against. The totality of danger this and other universes face. You been known since you could crawl. Your daddy and I made sure of that. Yes sir. Knightfalls, Huntingtons, Liafadors...together or apart they will always form a secret society. Always seek to rekindle an illuminati of unchecked privilege and power.

It doesnt matter if one or all of them are the protagonist or antagonist. In the end, one of them will always be the catalyst! Son they gotta go. All of em. So while I'm sorry for your loss just consider yourself lucky it wasnt you who had to put her down. Tell ya what. If what you told me about her daughter's abilities are true we better pray she keeps her shit together through this emotional turmoil. How'd she'd seem when you handed over her mother's remains?"

With a slight agitated sigh, the Prime Panthro retreated backwards into a man-spread posture of attempted relaxation.

"She seemed like a little girl who's World had just been shattered. I'm sure everyone in this house can relate to that Pa-Pop."

"Yeah. Yeah, thats...anyway. What about the 'work?' Tell me about the job?"

"Its like you and the Homelander's said. The Senju satellite was the central hub for the SanVun Syndicate's digital empire. Thanks to your intell when Selebrity took Yazhun out and acquired the satellite, our research department was able to piggyback off from its signal. Which as you know then led us back to the Rogue Nation and their RedRum app. Now that Musa is now longer a problem we're free to extract all of the Bay's retro-fitted HALO tech and apply it to rebuilding the ghetto's of L.A."

"And the Assassination Market?"

"Wasnt connected. No trace at all. At least none that our experts were able to uncover."

"Damn. Oh well, next time. You done good my boy and we're getting close. I know its a heavy burden to bear but you're the last one of us left with shoulders strong enough to endure it." Pa-Pop's harmonic sermone drew both their attention to an old framed picture of a golden aged collective of costumed heroes just above the living room mantle with a gold plated engraving which read, 'The Homelanders.'