Chapter Text
Wildtype
Wildtype. noun. The phenotype of the typical form of a species as it occurs in nature. It represents the standard or norm for that species' genetic makeup and characteristics.
What he's doing is absolute madness, Homelander thinks as he hovers in the air, peering down through the cheap thin aluminum roof of the mobile home. There's no reason for him to be visiting here, and no good can come of it.
Homelander's not sure what he was expecting.
***
After Homelander took over Vought, he became privy to all the top secret files the company stowed away. He didn’t hesitate to look up anything and everything about his past, and there was plenty to sift through. When he learned about just how many clones were made of the same genetic material, he felt instant revulsion. They had named them unimaginatively, alphabetically–Adam, Brian, Chris,… – and John found it oh-so-surreal to think of himself as the tenth in a series of eighteen. Clearly they didn't die in alphabetical order. The knowledge that he was one of eighteen infants with the same DNA carried to term by different surrogates– that he was the only one who survived all the testing and fiddling Vought scientists had done– made him sick, made him have nightmares for the first few nights after learning these sordid facts.
But his revulsion slowly faded and gave way to indifference. In some ways, it began to feel no more or less disturbing than the knowledge that he was the product of the one successful spermatid who made it all the way to goal first while tens of millions of its brethren died or got lost along the way. If Homelander really thought about it, he even felt a sense of elation and pride about his origins. There was something exceptional about him after all, if he was the sole survivor. Vought scientists may have engineered his DNA, and consistently taken all the credit for his remarkable existence, but clearly there was something special about him in particular. Even if it was pure dumb luck that he managed to survive what other copies didn't, he felt good about it.
He did not feel good about his next big discovery about these clone copies after more idle browsing through the files. It turned out that they had set one copy aside, didn't expose him to Compound V in vitro or in utero, and didn't put him through any of the tests and tortures afterwards. That was the control specimen, a comparator to see how the clones would have developed without interference.
Vought scientists kept the comparator alive even after Homelander was the only clone left standing. Homelander scans meeting notes that summarize a discussion of what to do with the comparator now that they'd settled on their winning specimen. The paper trail gets fuzzier, and Homelander recruits a couple of his favorite people from Vought Analytics to scrounge up information, not caring about breaking protocol and opening files up to people without the highest levels of clearance. He's desperate to know what became of his last twin. Anika manages to decipher that the twin wasn't destroyed, but was dropped off into a group home when he was five. Homelander catches himself deploring the fact that a genetic copy of him might still be out there somewhere, alive. He thinks it's unlikely. If there was someone out there who looked just like him, wouldn't they have come forward by now?
Anika uses Vought's access to government agency files to trace 'Adam' through the system. It grates on Homelander's nerves that this clone was named first. It starts to feel like he's the clean original, and Homelander is one of a bunch of sloppy carbon copies. It grates on his nerves even more when Anika discovers he was adopted at six years old. Homelander is surprised at how much jealousy instantly wells up in him about something that happened so long ago, but he can't help it when he thinks about how his life in the lab was getting much worse, just as his twin apparently got to enjoy a loving family. Homelander's imagination runs away, and suddenly he's no longer sure he doesn't have a doppelganger out there, living his best life, a wife, kids, a normal job, somehow oblivious to the fact that he resembles a well-known celebrity.
But no, Homelander's idyllic vision of his twin's charmed life is very unlikely. Anika does not lose track of him. He's returned into the group home less than a year later. Homelander questions why, and only notices how angry and impatient he sounds when he sees Anika's frightened face. She shakes her head, saying there don't seem to be any notes other than 'not a good match.' And Homelander goes from feeling jealousy to feeling intense righteous indignation on his twin's behalf. Who the fuck were these people who rejected him? Homelander has half a mind to look up where they live and burn their house to the ground. Anika looks them up without having heard Homelander's reasons for doing so– the couple who adopted Adam were on the older side, the husband died of cancer a few years ago, and the wife is in a nursing home with dementia. Good riddance then, Homelander thinks, and doesn't ask for the address. He wouldn't burn down an entire nursing home for one heartless, now mindless resident.
Anika continues her research through non-Vought sources. Adam attended school. Did not seem to be a remarkable student, but had been mentioned being on the honor roll once in seventh grade in the local paper. The only other mention of his name among searchable records is his participating in a school fundraiser in 1995. There's a photo of a group of high school freshmen standing behind their bake sale table, with a caption that includes his twin's name. Homelander squints at the grainy picture– his eyesight doesn't help zoom in because all he sees are big printer dots- but he can still see a teenager wearing his face, a mop of dark hair, and a goofy smile, complete with braces. At least the group home took care of his medical needs, Homelander thinks to himself, but can't help press his tongue against his slightly crooked front tooth, an imperfection they tried and were unable to fix in the lab.
Adam enlisted in the army right after graduating, didn't seem particularly ambitious or career-oriented while there, was part of Ground Forces the whole time, was still an infantryman three years in when he was deployed to Iraq. He came back from the Middle East after just a year and changed to being in reserves until the age of 26, never went back into the military, worked as a mechanic, a roofer, a construction worker at various times, moving around between Texas, Florida, and most recently Arizona.
"Does he have a family or something?" Homelander asks, and even though he was so jealous at the mere idea of having a twin who would be living a normal life he never got to enjoy, now he finds himself invested, really hoping to hear that his doppelganger is doing well, that his life is satisfying in the way Homelander imagines ordinary people must find their lives satisfying, because of no aspirations for fame, power, or anything beyond mediocrity.
"I can't see any records of anyone living with him," Anika replies. "Doesn't mean he's living alone, but no one's ever seemed to register at the same address."
"What is his current address anyway," Homelander asks, trying to sound nonchalant, but he’s anxious. Once he has this knowledge, it will gnaw at him. He'll be curious, he'll be tempted to get a look, and once he does, he might become obsessed and want to talk. He probably shouldn't even ask for the address.
"He doesn't have an exact address… lives in… 35502 Squaw Valley Rd but there's a bunch of houses with that address. Looks like some kind of community? Yeah, Squaw Valley Mobile Home Park."
"What the fuck," Homelander mutters under his breath. "Who names these places."
***
Homelander doesn't go to visit the address. He has no desire to see what his twin is up to, after having heard that he's essentially trailer trash. There's clearly nothing interesting to see there, and it actually galls Homelander to know that someone with similar genetic material is walking around out there living such an unfortunate life.
But of course he's haunted by thoughts of the entire thing. He thinks back to his lab days, tries to remember if he's ever seen any other child in the lab. His memory plays tricks on him and he starts to wonder whether he really has seen someone else there. Maybe someone else who looked just like him. What if it wasn't just an inner voice that he remembers talking to him when he'd be left alone in the bad room? What if he'd seen this twin before he could form completely coherent memories, and reconstructed him out of his imagination? He doesn't like any of these thoughts, and he dares not confer with the mirror about it. It's very unlikely that the Vought scientists would have ever let them cross paths, so he puts it out of his mind.
Or at least he tries to get all the thoughts out of his mind, and can't, and feels a mounting sense of curiosity and dread. He knows his resolve not to at least take a peek won't last.
***
What he's doing is absolute madness, Homelander thinks as he hovers in the air, peering down, through the cheap thin aluminum roof of the mobile home. There's no reason for him to be visiting here, and no good can come of it.
He watches the man inside, sitting on a ratty couch, feet propped up on a cheap coffee table, eating what looks like meatloaf and mac and cheese straight out of a plastic microwave meal container. 'Adam' is only half paying attention to the TV, playing whatever drivel is airing on ESPN right now. At least he can afford cable. Or satellite, Homelander corrects himself when he sees the small dish affixed to the house.
Homelander's not sure why he mentally pronounces his twin's name with sarcasm. Maybe because it feels hollow, to have been named alphabetically. He feels no attachment to his own name. It's a throwaway– even more of a throwaway than he suspected. But Adam hasn't known any other name, and probably has no clue about why and how it was given. Homelander can't judge him for using it.
Homelander continues watching him. Adam undeniably looks like him– he even lightens his hair to blond, although it's a harsh peroxide treatment, almost platinum, and his hair is dry and damaged. Homelander wonders if he's aware of his identity after all, leaning into being a celebrity lookalike, but for some reason choosing not to come forward and sue Vought for all they're worth. Or maybe someone at Vought has already paid him off to foolishly sign an NDA for such a low sum of money that they didn't bother making an incriminating record of it in any of the files Homelander has browsed through? And once again Homelander feels a strange twinge of sympathy on his twin's behalf. I should help him get more money out of the bastards, he thinks to himself, before remembering 'the Vought bastards' very much include himself nowadays.
Adam's missing an eye, has a patch over it, and Homelander can see that inside it's healed in such a way that won't allow a prosthetic eye inside. How careless. Probably something that happened in Iraq, although Anika hadn't mentioned anything about an injury– and his enlistment photo portrait still had both eyes. Hopefully this sap got a hefty lump of money from the government for that too. Maybe that's the reason the guy never started a family. He could have passed for a movie actor, but Homelander can't imagine walking around with an eyepatch gets you job interviews or dates.
Homelander's not sure about what he was expecting. He wants to leave and return to New York as quickly as he can travel, and dismiss the entire thing as a waste of time, but it's like he's hypnotized, rooted in place to see what his clone does next. He watches Adam flick through some messages on his phone, turn off the TV and get up, pulling on a bomber jacket and grabbing a helmet and a cigarette.
Of course he rides a motorcycle and smokes, Homelander sighs and rolls his eyes, but can't help and keep staring. In some ways, Homelander admires how brave normies are, given how easily their bodies tear and shatter from the smallest of impacts, and how easily they'll get cancer from the mildest of exposures.
He lands gingerly on the roof, intent on not being heard or seen when Adam goes outside. Adam pauses, straddling the bike and typing something into his phone, helmet held under one arm, cigarette dangling precariously out of his mouth. And in some ways, Homelander admires him. No matter how little Homelander thinks of this lifestyle, Adam has an effortlessness, a carelessness about him that Homelander could only aspire to, and he's a good-looking guy, in Homelander's biased estimation. Maybe, strangely, better looking than Homelander because the eyepatch only adds a rough flair. Maybe it's his job as a mechanic or whatever the hell he does for a living, but his body is built up nicely too– Homelander would not want to stand naked side by side and compare visuals.
Adam finishes whatever text he was sending– Homelander didn't even bother to peek because he was busy examining him– and starts the motorcycle and speeds off. Homelander lifts slowly and goes all the way up into the stratosphere to follow, because Arizona is mostly desert, and he'd easily be seen in his recognizable uniform if he stayed anywhere below where commercial flights fly. He drifts through the thin cold air, watching his quarry travel down the highway, and even though he's going above speed limit, it still takes about an hour to get into Phoenix proper. Homelander starts descending downward once the sun sets, no longer as concerned about being spotted, and watches his clone park near what looks like some hole in the wall bar. Homelander peers through the roof, catching himself hoping that Adam is here to meet someone on a date– it's not clear to Homelander why he's so invested, but something about someone genetically identical to him living a sad bachelor life offends him. It's one thing for Homelander to still be single– his life is complicated by his job and the types of people he's surrounded by that he's tried to woo. But what else does this man have going for him if not at least a love life at this age?
Homelander's so lost in these thoughts that he barely registers Adam sitting down at the bar and talking to another man seated beside him. He's still puzzled when he watches both men get up after a few minutes and head towards the men's room. It's not until they enter the same stall that Homelander finally comprehends what this is, breath hitching, heart pounding, and he finally tears his eyes away for a moment, too disturbed to believe what he's seeing, and scanning the whole dive bar to suddenly realize there are are no women here except one of the bartenders, and she turns out to be trans upon closer inspection. Homelander doesn't even want to listen in, his own heartbeat is pounding in his ears when he glances back and sees that Adam is leaning back against the stall wall while his partner is on his knees sucking him off. At least he's the one being sucked off , Homelander tries to look on the bright side, but even that thought turns out to be misguided when he sees them switch off a few minutes later.
Homelander's had enough and zooms off back to New York, shaking his head in disbelief and disgust. For a moment he wonders if this means that, left to his own devices with no interference, this would be him too, but he brushes the thought away. He likes women. Has ever since the lab. Or at least ever since someone explained the difference to him as a child. It's some nonsense his twin picked up in the army or later. He's a good looking, fit guy and maybe someone took advantage of him really early on… Homelander is half tempted to put Anika on the case again to try to figure out where things went wrong, but realizes it's a very bad idea. No one needs to know about his twin. No one at all, and he himself should forget that he ever saw any of this. This trip to Arizona never happened, as far as he's concerned.