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Jordan’s breath catches in her throat; she’s gone. Marie’s gone. It’s in the stillness in her body, the way her hands slightly rotate downward.
She tries to escape before Marie—not her, not her—turns around, but then—
She can’t.
Godolkin won’t let her.
“Now, now…”
Her eyes can’t close, no matter how much she wants them to. Then, she’s turning back around again, and facing Marie. There’s Godolkin behind her, grinning with fang-like teeth, but her eyes focus on Marie. Not her choice, not in her control.
Then, Marie’s walking towards her, and it’s not Marie, it’s not, but—
But—
“I didn’t say you could run away, now, could I?” Marie asks, tilting her head. Her tone is warm, with a hint of rasp, just like—
“Our afterglow?” Marie smiles, and Jordan hates her. She doesn’t, but she does. Fight this, please, Marie, you have to, I won’t be able to handle—
“I mean, seriously, do you honestly think she loves you?” Both of them are saying it. Godolkin with his hands wringing together, and Marie, inching closer and closer to her. “Look at you, you’re pathetic. You have to fight and struggle and claw your way to even make it to the top rankings. Me, though?” Back to Marie again. Her body odor hits Jordan’s nose. It used to comfort her; now it made her want to scream. “I didn’t have to do anything but, well… show a drop of my power, a drop in the infinite pool that is my true potential, and, well… here I am. That’s why I’m worthy. And that’s why you’re not worth… well, not worth anything, really.”
Emma, Cate. She knows they’re in his control too; they can’t say anything, same as her, but still. Still. Their silence feels like agreement.
Everything rushes back. The comments she faced, her parents’ distaste, the homophobia. As if she had a choice. They were the ones who chose to sign a contract with a company that keeps making bad movies with worse CGI and willingly let said company inject their own baby—their newborn infant—with a supposed drug that could turn her magical.
“See?” Marie says, twitching her fingers in the same motion as Godolkin behind her. “Not even your parents loved you. Why do you think that is?”
You’re not her, Jordan tries to scream in her head, but even in there, her voice sounds small, frail. Like a small, helpless child.
Then, a shockwave emanates. Jordan, Marie, even Godolkin—they all lose their balance. Then, she’s free.
She’s free.
“Marie,” she says, running towards her, like Emma and Cate, because the person who’s in danger the most—it’s her. Jordan does not want her to meet the fate Godolkin has in store for her.
Behind Jordan, the door bursts open. Polarity enters.
Except, Marie’s—
No, no.
“Ah, Polarity,” she and Godolkin say, sending all of them flying with the flick of the wrist. “Finally strong enough to fight the big boss, ey?”
Jordan’s back hits the wall, and she loses her breath. Emma, Cate, Sam—all of them, they’re checking in on each other, but her gaze is focused on Marie.
Is this it?
Is this the end of them?
Someone grabs her shoulder. Sam. “We have to leave. Now.”
“But—Marie—”
“Jordan.” Sam shakes his head. The movement slow, somber. Like he’s grieving.
No. “She’s in there, Sam, I can’t—”
Then, Cate touches her, and Jordan wants to leave. Jordan leaves alongside Emma and everyone else. Everyone else besides Cate herself, and Sam.
…
Jordan comes in his male form, in a shady, piss-smelling motel room. He’s with Emma, who’s watching TV. Emma turns around, and can’t even muster a joke. “They’re dead.”
He doesn’t need to ask; he knows who.
That night, they buy two beers from a vending machine, and pour them out. For Polarity. For Cate. For Sam.
“Sam…” Emma’s lower lip wobbles. She brushes away a tear. Jordan pulls her in, and she bawls into his chest. He cries too, just soundlessly. His grief is more complicated.
Marie’s not dead; she’s just gone.
…
Stan finds them again. How, who knows? With his track record, he probably knows the location of every Supe in Uzbekistan, even the ones with powers like making a single soap bubble every day. “If pushed correctly,” a familiar voice says in his head, “the right Supe could evolve—”
Jordan takes a deep breath. “What do you want?”
“You know what I want,” Stan says. “And I know you know what I want. The question is: do you want the same thing?”
Jordan looks at Emma. Her throat bobs. “Marie, she’s… too powerful. I don’t know if I can—”
“You don’t have to,” he says. “Emma, this… this has all blown up into something—” He shuts his mouth. Stan is listening, and he’s a good listener; Jordan doesn’t want him to know anything more than he needs to. He doesn’t want his own thoughts, his own feelings, to be weaponized. Just like—”You have every right to leave. Fuck, I…” He grabs his hair. “Even I want to leave.”
“Jordan…” Emma doesn’t need to say anything else; the dim sparkle in her eyes are enough. I don’t want to be alone, she’s saying, you’re all I’ve got.
…
“Hi. I’m Marie Merou. When I first got my powers, I didn’t know how to control it, let alone how to use it. The people at God U—ha! They can surely attest to that! But with Thomas Godolkin’s guidance, I—”
Emma grabs the TV in her big hand, and crushes it like a grape.
“Good,” says Stan, “now. Back to normal.”
For her, shrinking back is the hard part; Jordan knows this, and it’s why she gives Emma an encouraging nod. Emma’s brows furrow as she concentrates, and it takes a whopping one minute, slow and agonizing, but it works.
Jordan glares at Stan, daring him to say something. He doesn’t. He just turns to Jordan and nods.
With Emma, the reminder has to be visual-based and/or audio-based. Jordan, on the other hand—well, it’s molded into her mind, whether she likes it or not. Marie’s—no, Godolkin’s—actions, from the first moment he controlled her, made her fight Marie, until the last time he did so, using Marie to bring out every single one of her insecurities.
And now, Marie’s face is everywhere, smiling a perfect smile, becoming every kid’s dream.
Six hundred people, she reminds herself, this week so far. That’s how much blood is in Godolkin’s hands; that’s how many people he killed using Marie. Stan promises Homelander will step in, not because he cares, but because he doesn’t want anyone stealing the spotlight. It hasn’t happened yet; if—when—it does, she’s not sure what the outcome would be. She’s not sure what she wants the outcome to be. All she knows is, she’d rather be dead than be in Marie’s shoes right now.
So, she trains. She trains until she passes out. Until she forgets to eat, drink, sleep. Until she can’t do all of those things anymore. And most times, before unconsciousness slams into her like a brick, her dreams hurt her with the truth: she still wants to be strong, she still wants to matter, because in the end, all she is is all everyone is; a kid trying to heal from their hurt.
Emma tries to be a good friend, but she has her own issues. Stan isn’t helping—bringing up her ED like it’s nothing more than a bad habit. “Just hearing him—ugh, it’s making me want to throw up, just so—”
“Don’t,” Jordan says, shifting to a male form. He knows Emma accepts him for who he is, but Emma seems to find comfort in feeling smaller, feeling small in general. He himself knows it’s partly him too. Men are strong, women aren’t. It’s not true, it’s not. But his parents… the adults who surrounded his childhood…
No, don’t think about that, about them, focus on Emma, Jordan tells himself, so he pulls her into a hug. Her snot wets his shirt. It’s hard to keep his voice steady, but he’s had practise pretending like he isn’t affected by anything. “You’re amazing, Emma. We’re amazing. Stan just… He has his own methods.”
“Like Godolkin,” Emma mutters.
It’s not Cipher—Doug—who invades her mind, or Thomas himself. It’s Marie.
It’s always Marie.
…
Late at night, all alone, Jordan tries to stay in his male form as he watches Marie, full of confidence, a sway in her hips, her lips darkened, her makeup flirtatious, with a dress. A dress. It’s a documentary of a gala last night, with a stranger’s voice over, detailing lies and BS. She’s with Homelander, his son, Firecracker, and she looks like she belongs.
The living room is big, but it shrinks until it’s suffocating when Stan enters the room.
He walks until he’s facing the wall-sized TV, the screen turning him into a silhouette.
“My collar was Victoria and her child. Now it’s just… her child. Homelander’s is his son. Most of everyone’s is Homelander.”
Jordan retreats to his room. That’s when he turns into a female form, and screams.
…
When she’s not ready, that’s when they move. Because people burst into Stan’s bunker, Starlight included. Most are human. The tall one, Hughie, he says, “If we don’t do this now… fuck…”
That’s all he says.
They try to form something resembling a plan, but when it’s done, it feels more like a prayer, and a whole lotta hope. It’s all they’ve got.
…
Emma comes first, straight into the fray, interrupting Homelander, a crazy tentacle man called Butcher, and Marie (Godolkin) in their fight. No one is sure what’s happening, and Stan puts it best. “They don’t care who they hurt; they just want to come out on top. That’s all it is.”
She distracts Homelander and Butcher with her size, and Starlight, and a bunch of other Supes, as well as normies with a temporary V, attack both of them.
Lives will be lost.
Jordan steps out of the darkness, and faces Godolkin, through Marie. Stan accompanies her via earpiece. “Proceed with caution.”
She knows she should be in her male form, but she can’t. She shouldn’t. “Marie… please,” she says, begs, really, because Stan is right. Stan is always, always right.
“Jordan… I can sense things now, power. Your power. That. I can sense that, too. And it’s… Jordan, I’m so disappointed in you.”
“I don’t want to fight you, Marie.”
“That’s right,” Stan says, “lower her guard. Then strike.” That’s their plan.
“You do, though. I mean, c’mon—” Marie spins around, and gestures to herself “—I’m everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
“You are.”
“Ah! You’ve come to your senses.”
“I have.” Jordan blinks, then takes off her ear piece, and throws it away.
Stan is right, after all. The only way to defeat Godolkin is to kill Marie.
But Jordan doesn’t want her knuckles to meet Marie’s cheek. That role belongs to the palm of her hand.
Marie holds up her hand, and Jordan feels the blood in her veins move in an unnatural way—it’s almost like tiny spiders latching onto her veins. “If you think tricking me—”
“I’m—I’m not,” Jordan replies. She wants to close her eyes, but she knows she shouldn’t. For Marie’s sake.
“I’ve been in her head for a year. I know more about you than you realize.”
“Marie, listen—”
“You’re a horribly weak Supe, you do realize that, right? No matter how much you’ve tried to evolve, you’ll never compare to—”
“You don't have to keep fighting him, Marie,” Jordan says, as Marie lifts her off the ground. “It’s okay. Let him—”
“Are you even—?”
“—hurt me. It’s okay, it really is.” Jordan tries to smile. She hopes it gives Marie some amount of comfort. “I’m not gonna hurt you back, ever. I would never do that to you anymore.”
Finally, she doesn’t see Marie as Marie anymore; all she sees is Godolkin, shaking his head, snickering. “So, what? Suddenly you’re tired of fighting? ‘Please, world peace!’ Is that it?”
“No, Godolkin. I would fight everyone else. Just not her.”
And then—
Everything hurts—
It hurts it hurts it hurts—
Marie—
Please—stop—
Stop—
“Jordan, why?”
It
“I just wanted you to be safe.”
Just
HURTS
“To be happy.”
IT H—