Marvel: Starting with the Homelander Template

After finishing his meal at a leisurely pace, Alex wiped the corner of his mouth, straightened his clothes, and turned his attention to the fragment in his hand.

After a moment's thought, he flipped his hand and stored it away instead of absorbing it right away.

A mere three hundred Origin Points—nothing more.

For someone of Alex's current strength, it was barely a drop in the bucket, far from enough to make any noticeable difference.

There was no rush to absorb it.

His vision was far broader than that.

One fragment wasn't nearly enough.

His next goal was already clear—

Use this piece to find the rest.

"Let's start with that museum," he murmured.

Decision made, Alex left the hotel and headed straight for the World War II Memorial Museum that Catwoman had mentioned.

It was already nighttime, and the museum was closed—but that hardly mattered to him.

He didn't need to walk inside.

Standing calmly before the locked gates, Alex activated his super vision and x-ray sight.

In an instant, everything within the museum—every wall, artifact, and even the faint movement of a fly—was laid bare before his eyes.

A few seconds later, he withdrew his gaze and shook his head slightly.

Just as Catwoman had said, there were no other fragments inside.

The world was never that generous.

It seemed he would need to do some real investigation to locate the rest.

"If only Charles were here," Alex muttered, a trace of nostalgia flashing in his eyes.

If he were still on Krakoa, this would've been easy—

Charles would just enter the Cerebro chamber, and within a minute, he'd locate every shard on the planet.

But now?

Alex would have to rely on local resources instead.

Even though his power was great enough to place him atop the cosmic hierarchy, strength alone wasn't the answer to everything.

Finding things required specialists.

So, which local power should he turn to?

A name came to mind immediately—

Wayne Enterprises.

If there was one dominant force in Gotham, it was undoubtedly the Wayne Group.

They owned half the city—banks, transportation, finance, manufacturing—virtually every major industry bore their mark.

In movies, villains often boasted, "This is my city!"

Most of the time, it was just dramatic flair.

But in Gotham?

That line was a fact when applied to the Waynes.

If Alex wanted to track down the other fragments quickly, Wayne Enterprises was his best option.

A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips.

So this was the "fateful connection" between him and Batman, huh?

He had just finished beating the man half to death… and now he needed his help?

Ironic.

And amusing.

"Well then," Alex said lightly, "I'll just have to talk to Batman in person."

But now wasn't the right time.

For one thing, it was already late.

For another, thanks to him, Batman was probably still bedridden and being treated by doctors.

He'd need to wait until the Dark Knight could stand again.

"In that case… might as well enjoy a few days in Gotham," Alex said with a small shrug.

With an easy stride, he walked off into the darkness, vanishing from sight.

---

Over the next few days, Alex's life in Gotham was relaxed and comfortable.

He treated the whole trip like a vacation.

After all—it was Gotham.

The real Gotham.

Dark, dangerous, corrupt to the core… yet for someone who'd always loved Western comics, the city had its own kind of charm.

Alex enjoyed it thoroughly.

Of course, he wasn't just sightseeing.

He kept an eye on Bruce Wayne's condition as well.

And soon enough, he found the perfect opportunity to make contact.

Three days later, Bruce Wayne—the city's most famous playboy and billionaire heir—was scheduled to host a high-society gala at the Wayne Tower.

What better chance could there be?

Alex was certain that when Bruce saw him, the man would be very "pleasantly surprised."

---

Three days later.

Alex arrived at Wayne Tower dressed in a tailored designer suit.

As expected of Gotham's richest family, the sheer luxury of the tower elevated the entire city's standards by several notches.

"Right this way, sir," a pair of impeccably dressed attendants said politely, ushering him toward the grand ballroom at the top floor.

There was no cliché scene of him being stopped for not having an invitation.

No drama, no fuss.

He entered the gala smoothly, blending into a sea of elegantly dressed elites.

All around him were smiling faces, polished manners, and graceful conversation.

Beautiful women in dazzling gowns moved among them like living jewels, adding color and warmth to the room.

Soft, soothing music flowed through the air like a gentle spring breeze.

The atmosphere was perfect.

A few subtle glances were cast Alex's way—some curious, others intrigued.

Several people even came up to greet him.

None of them were fools; one look was enough to tell that this unfamiliar young man was the real deal—someone who belonged in their circle, not a pretender wearing borrowed luxury.

After all, true high society couldn't be faked with just a nice suit.

Whispers began spreading quietly.

Who was this elegant stranger?

Which powerful family or corporation did he represent?

Then—

"Boss! What are you doing here?"

A familiar, surprised voice rang out.

Alex turned to see a stunning woman walking toward him, her figure so perfect it drew envious and lustful stares alike.

Catwoman.

She looked genuinely shocked to see him.

She hadn't expected to run into this mysterious man again—let alone at this kind of event.

"Why? Am I not allowed to attend?" Alex raised an eyebrow and casually took a glass of red wine from a passing waiter, sipping it leisurely.

"Of course not!" Catwoman quickly said, still studying him with interest.

"I just didn't take you for the type who enjoys these boring parties."

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