Marvel System In The Boys

Derek blinked into the whiteness. His vision struggled to adjust, as though his brain couldn't quite register the reality around him. There was no up, no down—just an endless expanse of white stretching in every direction. It was cold, but not physically so. More like an emptiness that gnawed at his spirit. He'd been here before, but this time, something was different.

His chest tightened as the memories flooded back. Homelander. The fight. The look on Valerie's face just before Homelander had swatted her away like she was nothing. And then... then came the pain.

Derek grimaced, lifting a hand to his skull. His fingers traced along the unblemished skin, but he could still feel the ghost of the pressure, the horrific crush of Homelander's grip on his head. The last thing he remembered was the blinding agony before everything went black. But that didn't matter now. What mattered was—

"Valerie," he whispered. His voice echoed endlessly, swallowed by the void.

She was dead. And he was here. Again.

Derek clenched his fists. How long had he been in this place? The last time felt like moments, a passing dream before God showed up to lecture him. But this... this was different. There was no comforting glow, no calm presence to guide him. Just him and this oppressive, mind-numbing nothingness.

His breathing quickened. He couldn't be dead. Not again. Not like this.

"You have to be kidding me!" he roared, the sound crashing against the emptiness. "I was so close! I could've—"

But no. He wasn't close. Not even slightly. He'd been arrogant. He thought that just because he had Thor's powers, he could waltz into a fight with the most powerful being on the planet. He thought he could take Homelander down with brute strength, like a hero out of some comic book.

And look where that got him.

Derek exhaled slowly, the adrenaline burning away into frustration. The white space seemed to stretch endlessly, and in its stillness, it gave him time. Too much time. Time to think about everything he'd done wrong.

He had been too rash. That much was obvious now. The power coursing through his veins had given him a high, an intoxicating sense of invincibility. Thor's abilities weren't just about strength—they were about command, control, and the wisdom to wield such godly power. Derek had forgotten that.

He laughed bitterly to himself, the sound hollow in the void. "Yeah, some god of thunder I turned out to be."

For the first time, he let himself truly reflect. Not just on his fight with Homelander, but on the decisions that had led him there. Every moment since he'd been granted these abilities felt like a blur of overconfidence. He had rushed headlong into situations he barely understood, thinking raw power could solve every problem.

But Homelander? That monster wasn't just about strength. He was cunning, ruthless, and more importantly, utterly sadistic. Derek should've known better. He should've taken the time to fully integrate Thor's powers, to understand what it meant to control the storm. And yet, here he was. Beaten, dead, and alone in this endless white nothing.

His fingers tightened into fists, his knuckles turning white as the weight of it all pressed down on him. The void was silent, giving him space to wrestle with his thoughts, his failures.

He could have prepared. He could have taken the time to learn, to strategize, to think like a god rather than some angry boy with a hammer. And Valerie… She would still be alive if he hadn't been so reckless.

The thought of her face flashed before him. Her laugh, her sharp, sarcastic remarks. Gone.

Derek growled, pressing his palms into his eyes as if he could block out the grief. But the void wouldn't let him. It forced him to sit with it, to marinate in the knowledge of his failure.

And that's when it hit him. This was the point, wasn't it? This empty space, this quiet... it was here to force him to face the truth. The first time, he hadn't learned. He'd taken the second chance God had given him and squandered it. But now? Now he couldn't run from the truth. His anger, his arrogance—they had cost him everything.

A soft glow appeared in the distance. Derek didn't look up at first, his eyes still squeezed shut in frustration. But the glow grew warmer, brighter, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. He opened his eyes slowly, and there, standing in the same place as last time, was God.

"Hello again," God said, his voice as calm and welcoming as before. That same peaceful smile played on his lips, the kind that was frustratingly understanding, as though he knew exactly what Derek had been through.

"Of course," Derek muttered, half-laughing at the absurdity of it. "Of course, it's you again."

God stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze soft but unwavering. "You've been here longer than last time."

Derek snorted, standing up to face him. "Yeah, well, I guess I had more to think about."

"I imagine you've come to some conclusions?" God asked, tilting his head slightly, his eyes shimmering with that frustratingly omniscient look.

Derek's jaw tightened. "I was an idiot," he said bluntly. "I thought I could just charge in, fists swinging, and take down the biggest threat in the world. I thought... I don't know. I thought having Thor's powers made me unstoppable."

God didn't respond right away, allowing Derek to continue.

"But I was wrong. I didn't understand. I rushed in. I didn't take the time to—" He paused, shaking his head. "To *become* Thor. To learn what it meant to wield his power."

"Exactly." God's voice was gentle, but his words hit hard. "Strength without wisdom is dangerous. Especially when you're facing someone like Homelander."

Derek looked away, his gaze drifting into the white expanse. "I screwed up. And now Valerie's..."

His voice caught in his throat. He couldn't even say it.

God's expression softened, his eyes filled with a kind of empathy that only someone who had seen everything could possess. "You've made mistakes, Derek. But mistakes are part of the journey. What matters now is what you do next."

Derek's fists clenched at his sides. "Next? There is no next. Valerie's dead. She's gone because I was too stupid to realize I wasn't ready."

God tilted his head slightly, regarding him with a thoughtful look. "What do you think would have happened if you had won? If you'd killed Homelander?"

Derek blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What?"

"If you had succeeded," God continued, his tone contemplative, "if you had killed Homelander, would that have been the end? Would everything have been fixed?"

Derek opened his mouth to answer but stopped. He hadn't thought about that. In his mind, defeating Homelander had always been the end goal. But now, with God's question hanging in the air, he realized... maybe it wasn't that simple.

"No," he admitted, his voice quiet. "I guess it wouldn't have been."

God smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes. "You see, Derek, power doesn't solve everything. Even the power of gods. You need to understand the world you're in, the people around you, and most importantly, yourself."

Derek shook his head, frustration bubbling up again. "But how am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to learn when I keep getting killed?"

"That," God said, stepping closer, "is the point of this place. To give you the time you need to understand, to reflect. Strength, wisdom, patience—they don't come easily, Derek. But you have them in you. You just need to nurture them."

Derek felt the weight of God's words settling over him. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. He wanted a solution, a way to fix everything. But that wasn't how this worked. Not anymore.

"So what now?" he asked quietly, his eyes searching God's face. "What do I do now?"

God's smile returned, softer this time. "You learn. You train. And when the time is right, you return."

The void around them seemed to pulse, the white expanse flickering as if the very fabric of this place was reacting to their conversation. Derek felt something shift inside him, a spark of understanding that hadn't been there before.

"I'll make it right," he said, more to himself than to God. "I'll make sure I'm ready next time."

God's eyes twinkled. "That's the spirit."

But there was something else. Something Derek needed to know.

"Valerie," he said, his voice tight. "Is she...?"

God's expression softened again, and for the first time, Derek saw genuine sorrow in his eyes. "I'm afraid she's gone, Derek. She's been reincarnated... in another world. One I cannot reach."

Derek's heart sank. It felt like a punch to the gut, the final confirmation of his failure.

The void seemed to swallow the silence that followed. Derek's heart sank into a depth he hadn't realized existed. His worst fears were confirmed. Valerie wasn't just dead—she was beyond his reach, lost in a different world. The thought of her being somewhere, anywhere else, and him not being able to find her hit him harder than any of Homelander's punches.

Derek's fists unclenched, his hands falling limply to his sides. "She's... gone?"

God nodded, his eyes filled with an ancient, melancholic wisdom. "Yes, Derek. I know you wanted me to bring her back, but reincarnation is different. Her soul has moved on, into a world that I cannot track. Her fate, wherever she is, is no longer in your hands."

Derek swallowed hard, the lump in his throat refusing to ease. "So that's it? She's gone, and I... I can't even try to save her?"

God's expression remained sympathetic but firm. "That is the nature of life, Derek. You are not all-powerful, and neither am I. Some things are beyond even us."

Derek took a shaky breath, his eyes cast down to the endless white floor. "I don't know how to live with that."

"It's not about living with it," God said softly, stepping closer. "It's about accepting that there are things you can't control, and learning from the things you can. You have the power to prevent future losses. You have the power to protect the people who still need you. Valerie may be beyond your reach, but that doesn't mean you're powerless. Far from it."

Derek's gaze snapped to God's. "What do you want me to do, then? Just... move on? Forget about her?"

God shook his head. "No, Derek. Never forget. But remember her in a way that strengthens you. Let her memory fuel your resolve, not drown you in regret."

Derek didn't respond right away, his mind racing. The grief was still there, raw and painful, but God's words cut through the fog of despair. There was no bringing Valerie back. He had to face that. But her death didn't have to be in vain. He could honor her by becoming stronger, by ensuring that no one else he cared about would fall to Homelander.

Derek's jaw clenched as a new kind of resolve settled into his chest. He wouldn't fail again. He couldn't. Homelander had taken Valerie from him, but he wouldn't let him take anything—or anyone—else. He would become stronger. He would gain more power, more control, and when the time came, he'd kill Homelander for what he'd done.

"I'll make him pay," Derek said, his voice low but filled with a quiet, burning fury. "I'll make sure he never hurts anyone else. Not ever again."

God nodded, his expression unreadable, though there was a flicker of approval in his eyes. "That's the right mindset, Derek. But remember—this journey isn't just about revenge. It's about growth. Become stronger, not just to defeat Homelander, but to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

Derek looked up at him, his eyes hard. "I won't make the same mistakes again."

"I believe you," God replied, his tone gentle yet firm. "But belief alone isn't enough. You need to be patient. Thor's power is not just about strength—it's about mastery. You've only scratched the surface of what you're capable of."

Derek nodded, the weight of God's words sinking in. He'd been too focused on the brute force, on the raw strength of Thor's abilities. But there was more to it. So much more. The control of the storm, the wisdom to wield it, the understanding of its true nature. He had neglected those aspects in his pursuit of immediate power, and it had cost him everything.

He wouldn't make that mistake again.

"I'll do it right this time," Derek said, more to himself than to God. "I'll master Thor's powers. I'll learn everything I can."

God smiled faintly. "Good. That's the first step."

Derek inhaled deeply, trying to push away the lingering grief for Valerie. He had a new mission now. He couldn't change the past, but he could change the future. And that future would involve him tearing Homelander apart, piece by piece.

God gestured with his hand, and the void around them seemed to shift, the white expanse rippling like water. Derek's head swam as new images began to form in the air between them—faint, ghostly impressions of battles, storms, and worlds unknown.

"You still have much to learn, Derek," God said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Thor's powers are vast, but they are also complex. You need to understand the balance between strength and restraint, between aggression and wisdom."

Derek's eyes followed the shifting images, his heart racing as he saw versions of himself, standing in the midst of raging storms, lightning crackling around him. In one vision, he saw himself hurling bolts of energy with precision, controlling the very elements with ease. In another, he was fighting alongside beings as powerful as himself, wielding Mjolnir as if it were an extension of his soul.

"I don't even have Mjolnir," Derek muttered, staring at the visions.

"You don't need it," God replied calmly. "Not yet, at least. Thor's strength doesn't come from his hammer. It comes from his connection to the storm, from his understanding of the universe's energies. Mjolnir is a tool, nothing more. You must learn to control the power without relying on it."

Derek exhaled slowly, nodding. He'd been focusing too much on the physicality of Thor's abilities—his strength, his durability, the lightning. But there was more to it. The storm was a living thing, a force of nature that needed to be respected, not just wielded.

"So, what do I do?" Derek asked, his voice steady. "How do I start?"

God's gaze remained steady. "You train. You learn patience. You practice controlling the storm, not just letting it rage. And when the time comes, you will face Homelander again. But this time, you will be ready."

The thought of facing Homelander again sent a thrill of anticipation through Derek's veins. He could already feel the power stirring within him, eager to be unleashed. But he wouldn't rush it this time. He wouldn't let his arrogance blind him.

"I'll do it," Derek said firmly. "I'll make sure I'm ready."

God smiled. "Good. Then it's time for you to begin."

The void around them began to fade, the whiteness dissolving into a swirling mixture of light and shadow. Derek felt a strange tugging sensation in his chest, as if the universe itself was calling him back.

"Where am I going?" Derek asked, his voice slightly unsteady as the space around him began to distort.

"Back to the world," God replied, his form already starting to fade into the white. "But not yet to fight. You're going back to prepare. Use this time wisely, Derek. The next battle is coming, but you'll be ready for it."

Derek nodded, his resolve hardening. He would train, he would learn, and when the time came, he would make sure that Homelander paid for what he'd done.

The last thing he saw before the void completely dissolved was God's serene smile, and then everything went dark.

Derek's eyes fluttered open. The world around him was blurry at first, but the weight of the real world quickly settled back into his body. He was alive. Again.

This time, he would make it count.