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**1962, Springfield, Ohio**
Jake ignored the shocked stares and helped Eric to his feet. "You good?"
Eric grimaced, brushing off his embarrassment. "Yeah, I'm fine." He hadn't expected to be floored in front of a kid.
"Keep Bradley safe," Jake said. "This guy's mine."
Eric hesitated. "Jake, he's a killer. Your punch was solid, but he's not some rookie you can just—"
"Eric, I've got this," Jake cut in, his voice calm but firm. He stepped toward Sabretooth, who was already stirring, his head knitting back together with grotesque speed. Blood stained his face, but his feral grin was intact.
"Nice try, kid," Sabretooth growled, ripping off his torn shirt to reveal a chest already healing. "But it takes more than that to keep me down." He yanked the knives from his gut and tossed them aside, barely flinching.
Eric's jaw tightened. That healing factor was a problem.
Zero stood back, smirking, content to let Sabretooth do the dirty work. He knew the beast's durability—Sabretooth could outlast almost anyone.
"You made me bleed," Sabretooth said, his claws gleaming. "Now I'm gonna make you scream." He charged, moving like a rabid animal.
"Jake!" Eric shouted.
Jake didn't flinch. His eyes locked on a table knife Sabretooth had discarded. If fists wouldn't kill him, maybe a clean cut would. Sabretooth wasn't Deadpool—regrowing a head wasn't in his playbook. Jake grabbed the knife, testing its weight. *Sharp enough? We'll see.*
Sabretooth lunged, claws slashing. Jake sidestepped with blinding speed—over 50 meters per second, faster than a car on the open road. The air whipped around him as he swung the knife in a brutal arc.
*Schlick!* The blade flashed, and Sabretooth's head sailed off, blood spraying like a geyser. His body stumbled forward two steps before collapsing. The head rolled across the grass, landing with a dull thud.
Bradley gaped. "You… you killed Victor?"
"If he can't grow a new head, yeah, he's done," Jake said, shrugging.
A groan came from nearby. Eric had handled Zero, pinning him with a hail of redirected bullets. Zero slumped, eyes wide, dead before he hit the ground. "Good riddance," Eric muttered.
A system alert flashed in Jake's vision:
**[Mission Complete: Stop Sabretooth and protect Bradley]**
**[Reward: 100 Origin Points]**
**[Origin Points: Fuel for growth. Unlock Homelander template progress, boost attributes, or upgrade abilities.]**
Jake's mind raced. These points could push his powers further—more strength, speed, or even unlock flight or heat vision. The system was his edge.
Eric approached, eyeing Sabretooth's corpse. "Didn't peg you for the brutal type, Jake."
"Quick and clean," Jake said, deadpan. "Didn't even feel it."
Eric raised an eyebrow, then clapped Jake's shoulder. "You okay? First kill's rough on anyone."
"I'm fine," Jake said. Oddly, he was. No guilt, no shakes. Maybe the system dulled his emotions, or maybe this world just demanded a harder edge.
"If you need to talk, I'm here," Eric said, then turned to Bradley. "Who were these guys?"
Bradley's face was grim. "You're in deep shit now."
"How so?" Eric asked, his voice low.
"The clawed one's Victor. Other guy, we called Zero. They're from a secret outfit—dangerous as hell."
"What outfit?" Eric's eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade.
Bradley shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know much, just that it's bad news."
Eric grabbed Bradley's collar, his voice rising. "Is it the Black King? Talk!"
"Who the hell's that?" Bradley snapped, shoving Eric's hand away. "I don't know any Black King!"
"Eric, ease up," Jake said, stepping in. He knew Bradley wasn't lying—Stryker's crew, not the Black King's Hellfire Club, was behind this.
Eric glared, then released Bradley. "You'd better be straight with me."
"If I were you, I'd get outta here fast," Bradley said. "They'll come for you."
Eric didn't hesitate. "You're coming with us." He grabbed Bradley's arm, pulling him toward the car.
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