User:AuroraNyghtLyghts/Saitama vs. Homelander

File:Homelander vs Saitama

This is literally a death battle thumbnail edit of Homelander vs Saitama

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Inside of a dark room were two sets of glowing eyes, or, one could consider them two sets, considering about a foot of distance existed between where the first set of glowing golden eyes were, and where the second set of a singular glowing eye was. Their eyes peered at the viewer, aware of who they were going to be speaking to, as if there was merely a boundary between them.

And then?

“WELCOME EVERYONE TO, UH! WHAT WAS THE NAME OF THIS SHOW AGAIN?!” “Foolishness be upon you once again, Zhigbar. This is the show known as, The Branching Path, because the Dying Fight is copyrighted.” “YOU MEAN DEA-”

Zhenmas, the more poised of the two males, formed a gigantic fan, smashing it down on the head of Zhigbar, who bounced off of the floor below, and then right back into standing.

“WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!” “Because, Aurora of the Astral Force would not like you playing around for this episode.” “Oh. You mean our boss who sets these matches up!” “Yes, them.” “Them? I thought it was her?” “When I met with them, they appeared as he. They appear as whatever they want to, sometimes both, and sometimes nothing at all.” “Cool. So who is fighting today?” “The man on the left is the epitome of strength, someone who you would consider strength unrivaled even underneath heaven, and who many may consider one of the most handsome bald men around.” “Wow, I didn’t know you were-”

SMACK! The fan knocked him down, bringing blood splattering out of Zhigbar, who seemingly healed all of the wounds right away.

“OW! So who is the man on the right-” “He is the epitome of everything wrong with the worldly systems of the place known as Earth. A plague which exists for everyone, and only someone that even the heartless would consider heartless for liking. He is bleak, he wears blood and tears on his back, and he is a giant ignoramus.” “OH IT'S A HOMELANDER! So that means the other one is Saitama.” “Yes.”

Zhenmas looked down, the tv behind him shining and beaming with Astral Energy, a power source which could break through into different worlds, allowing people to have the fights they have always wanted to see.

“For a sneak peak into what we will be doing on this show, allow us to show you. Our boss is sure that you will be very pleased, with the fall of Ame-” “With the battle. We don’t know who is going to win, well, besides everyone who didn’t pay for this shit-”

“BEGIN!”

A Super Man’s Fight

Hot. The room was hot, and not in a way which someone would enjoy. This heat was not the good kind of heat, akin to the sort of warmth someone would receive when they were sitting by the fire as the world froze by them. This could not be seen as the heat of being enveloped in the weighted warmth of a blanket, hand pressed against the warm mug, hot chocolate melting and filling the air with a sweetness that was to die for, all while watching a favored show on a snowy day. One could not even consider this the comforting heat of a hot tub while socializing. This was the heat of a stuffy room, the heat of a room which needed ventilation, and that could have choked someone if they stayed inside for too long. It was humid, causing a huge wave of sweat to fall down the body, and covers may as well have been iron chains locking one down to the very depths of hell. At least, that’s how it felt for our hero without a single follicle of hair on his head. Saitama, the A-Class Hero. Caped Baldy, standing at a height of 175cm, weighing a combined total of 70kg, at an age of 25, and with more monsters than he would have the time to think about having fallen to his might, was reminded of a time when he was struggling to smack a mosquito, and when a cat scratched the ever living crap out of him. Something which should have been mundane had become something he couldn’t even comprehend, and he truly didn’t get why.

“Sorry master, I needed to find a way to cool down breakfast.”

Genos. Saitama did care about Genos. Ultimately, if someone were to bring their hand against him and cause his death, deep down he knew that would also be the last day they would walk the Earth. However, that didn’t take away the fact that currently, inside of his heart and soul, rage was being built up.

“What kind of breakfast was being made which you needed to cool down with the fan on a hot summer day? And do it in twenty words or less-” “Omelette.”

Saitama’s brown eyes peered into the mechanical orbs of Genos, time seemingly stopping, air seemingly freezing, patience as thin as the cut of the most talented blademaster. Did he just say, an omelette?

“What.” “An omelette. You know, it has a little bit of everything in there. We got some peppers, some sausage, some cheese-” “Genos!”

Saitama yells the name of the robotic man, who’s eyebrows slightly furrow, and his teeth begin to chatter like the toy of the same namesake. He didn’t know how to exactly respond to the words of the egg headed man who he called master, and so he bowed his head in a comedic manner, legs pressed together and hair hanging down below in a means of asking for forgiveness.

“I am sorry master, to be absolved of my sins I will clean your room and make sure that even the tightest of your whitest underwear has nothing on it.” “I am more than fine Genos, please.”

Saitama was already upset that in the brief moments of slumber he had, that like a thief in the night, his residence had fallen to the hands of his companion, and so did the wind.

“Master, it appears to me as if you’re going to need to shower.” “Yeah, no kidding. If you could leave the food out for me, I would do my best to go and get it.” “Your best?” “Well considering I’m not in the greatest mood at the moment, I would consider it my best.”

Saitama said, his tone coming off as irritated, like a grease fire spilling over and a few paces away from completely bursting and sending sparks flying everywhere.

“That does make sense. Oh yeah, master, I wanted to mention that you have ran out of eggs, and cheese, and-” “I get it. I’m going to have to take a trip to the grocery store.”

Genos reached his hand down, slightly pressing along his sides, as if smoothing out the pants he wore. Plastic soon touching metal only covered by a thin piece of fabric, the robotic hand reached down and pulled up a black credit card, one with the unmistakable symbol of the Hero’s Association plastered across it.

“This should help you.” “I’ll take it when I get out.”

With that, the strong hero made his way to the shower, to wash off the pain that only a failure in ventilation could bring. The pain of smelling like a sweaty gym sock.

Planes. They were a marvel of science, engineering, and the human tendency to ignore whatever the rules of life had the gall to say. So humans may have not been born with wings, and maybe they didn’t have magic allowing them to levitate, but what they did have was their brains, and although a good chunk of them refused to use it, and many more were barred from it, of the ones who were allowed to make it through they create the airplane, and only improved on the design. Humans were crafty individuals, but life always had a way to show them that while climbing the steps they were more than susceptible to falling. Like right now.

Although the staff had assured that this flight would be one for the ages, they could have never expected that this would come to mean that it would be one of the rare occurrences of a plane crash. Even worse than that, the people on board, of different nationalities and creeds, could not have been in any worse a way. The plane, the contraption painted with a white top, with a red bottom and blue accents all alongside it, representing the glory of the United States of America, was extremely close to failing. A nosedive of unprecedented proportions, the cabin’s pressure becoming all too unstable. The pilot, the staff, and many of the passengers began to suffer from hypoxia, and fall deeper into the abyss. With very little hope as the ground slowly was becoming more familiar to the world around the passengers still up, and the very symbol of America that was inside, the fate of everyone was unknown.

“Alright, everyone calm down. I am here and available to help all of you, you have nothing in the world to worry about.”

The man speaking was a man by the name of Homelander, standing roughly at a height of 5 '11, to the average man and woman he could have been seen as intimidating, especially knowing his power. The flag of the United States of America flowing behind him he pressed his hand up on the roof of the plane, attempting to make the plane stop as much as he could, although his struggling was in vain as the plane didn’t even attempt to stop. But not wanting to appear weak before all of these people, he did what he knew he could do best. He left the plane.

“I don’t have the time to help them anyway. Most of them are women anyway, fucking critics.”

The man known as Homelander noticed the large island of Japan beneath him, and using his abilities of flight, pushed himself down towards the island in order to attempt to free himself from the thought of the plenty of people who are about to die, hoping more than anything that he did not have another PR nightmare which he was going to have to go through.

“Planes fall all the time, it’s good business.”

Saitama’s hands dig into his pocket, looking for the Astral Wintermint Bubblegum which he had bought. It was said that the bubblegum was so good, that it was practically addicting, and could eliminate bad breath with a few chews. Saitama didn’t believe it, but he had heard the creator of the gum sold it cheap, which it was sold pretty cheaply since the packet had only been 25 cents for 15 sticks. He was always about a deal.

“Hm. Oh man.”

Saitama said, the gum immediately eradicated all of the bad breath which he had inside of his mouth. His hero costume seemed brighter in yellow, the gloves and boots a brighter red, he was sure if he could see his socks even they would have shined. It had to have been the single greatest creation humanity had ever made.

“THIS ROCKS!”

The moment Saitama said this, he looked up into the sky, noticing that there was a plane which had breached above him, preparing right then and there to destroy everything by him. Including the grocery store.

“Oh fuck”, Saitama said as he bounced off from the ground, moving faster than a beam of light. Narrowly stopping his ascent, he grabbed onto the plane and forced his weight downward, bringing the plane down with him. However, while one would have expected for Saitama to have caused a massive explosion, he instead saved them all, every single person inside of that plane was safe, from the pilot to the civilian.

“That should save everything, uh, where is that little midget she would know what to do with this plane.”

Saitama said out loud, expecting that Fubuki would have been out showing off her new resolve, and therefore Tatsumaki would have been out to watch her sister attempt to show off her new resolve and cause him to want to blow his head off from their bickering as siblings.

“Oh, oh my god thank you! Thank you so much.”

Saitama was surprised when a Japanese woman came out and hugged him. She looked like she was important, standing around 5 '5, or at least she would be without her heels, wearing a dress which hugged her form. Her body flinging itself into him, Saitama reached out to catch her thinking she was performing a weird stunt that they do across the water, whatever that stunt may be.

“You’re welcome ma’am. Uh, is everyone in there alright?”

Saitama was confused. The plane seemed to have something to do with the United States of America. Did planes always fall down in that place?

“Yes, thanks to you. We thought that the Homelander guy would save us, but he kept looking at us with disdain. I really thought we were going to die.”

Saitama gave a nod, before his ears twitched and he turned his head, seeing the speeding power of the bike riding crusader, Mumen Rider.

“I WILL ASCERTAIN THE SITUATION!”

Saitama smiled at the declaration, and although he did not have teleportation powers, he ran off so fast that the wind could not keep up, and appeared to teleport, and disappear.

“This place doesn’t benefit me at all. Where the hell are the photos of me?”

Homelander was getting irritated, running his hands through his hair as he landed down in a street of this land of Japan. The people were busy, fast walking with their heads down and in their phones, or looking despondent. They should have been looking at him, the tall blond hero who would be a benefit to their country.

“Hey! HEY YOU BASTARDS!”

Unstable as he was, Homelander did his best to draw attention to himself. Although the words were common enough in the media for many of the Japanese citizens to recognize, they also recognized that the words were very disrespectful, and did not engage. Not to mention wearing an outfit which looked like it belonged to an Uncle Sam cosplayer, they didn’t wish to engage. Homelander knew what he needed to do.

“Fucking bastard!”

Saitama was very confused. He did not understand what the interesting looking man was doing in front of him, but what he did notice was he seemed irate. His slick backed blond hair moved with the wind, and Saitama hadn’t noticed that he had been getting closer, and closer, his own red gloved fist raising and finding itself pressed right between Saitama’s eyes. Awkwardness.

“Hi.”

Saitama said, bringing a bit of confusion buried underneath the unyielding rage which was Homelander. The buildings around him began to shake, the wind blowing enough to make his own hair back, people hit the floor being thrown off of balance, all of this happening and yet the one thing which didn’t happen was the very human being he hit, not going splat like they usually would. Even if he did not go splat, even Soldier Boy wouldn’t want to be hit by an enraged Homelander, he would have felt something, should have felt something. How did this baldie manage to survive his attack?

“How the hell did you not flinch you bald fuck?”

Saitama’s eyebrows furrowed. Although he did not understand the language of English, he could tell by Homelander’s angry and smug face, and his pointing at the shiny dome known as Saitama’s extremely bald head, that he was making fun of him for being bald.

“I’m fucking talking to you, you fucking Japanese Egg Head.”

Homelander’s eyes began to glow a violent red, brightening up everything around them. The people inside of the city, seeing this, began to run as fast as they could. Heels clicking and breaking as many men and women held onto one another, rushing out of the way of the individual preparing to fight the hero in front of them.

“Now, answer me!”

Homelander said, shooting out lasers from his eyes. These heated rays began to blast at Saitama, and in many situations, the sheer heat should have torn the chosen target in half. The issue here? Saitama did not flinch.

“WHAT!”

Homelander said, Saitama finding himself very confused, until he then could feel sweat dripping down his face. Sickness coursing through his body, having just done so much to escape the blazing heat of his apartment, that got him irritated, making his face become less relaxed and far more serious.

“You should stop this.”

Homelander, looking at the man and hearing his words, clenched his fists. Veins began to fill his neck, finding himself nearly crushing his own hand as his breath became that of a monster made for a horror novel.

“Don’t you dare fucking call me a bastard!”

Homelander looked up and around him, noticing all of the buildings around him. It was there he saw it. A child. A child who looked like she was watching the devil rise from the ground, prepared to take over the world. Saitama noticed this, and moving faster than the lasers could even come out, he brought his hand out and twisted Homelander’s neck, wanting to make sure that whoever was in the window was safe. But Saitama was strong, so strong that someone like Homelander could feel his neck breaking at the mere turn of his neck, and in retribution, he brought his hands out to try and grew enraged, attempting to strike at Saitama. Afterimages continued to come through him, swinging and swatting at him, throwing multiple punches as if he was trying to pound someone in the sand. Once again, Saitama stared.

“You must be a bad guy.”

Saitama brought his hand back, as if giving the berserk Homelander one last chance, but his pride would not allow him to stop, and he certainly would not lose to some bald loser who was shorter than him, and had to be weaker than him, who just had to.

“I AM SUPERIOR TO YOU!”

Saitama’s slap came right after, and in that moment, Homelander thought about everything. About life, about what could have led him to that moment. When he was a simple minded hero, before he finally killed. How he didn’t do everything he wanted, and how he never would, as every last cell burst at once from the slap he took, and his blood was sprayed across the streets of the Land of the Rising Sun. Gone from life. The American Flag cape being the last thing to go, seemingly floating off, away from the island of Japan, gone now, and gone for good.

“I can’t believe someone like that made it here. And on a hot day too?”

Saitama immediately jumped off, going back to his apartment, opening up the door once again. Once more, Saitama came into a house which had been taken over by multiple people. King played fighting games with Fubuki, performing a touch-of-death in a 3D fighter, while Bang and his brother Bomb played blackjack, Genos continued to make food while in that getup from earlier, and now Flashy Flash and Speed o’ Sound Sonic were in similar getup, acting as if they were cleaning up the place but being very obvious that they were snooping.

“Master, you’re home. I tried to stop them but when Fubuki found out that you were saving people from crashing planes thanks to Mumen Rider, she broke in. That gave permission to Sir Bang and Bomb, and the two speedsters burst in after that. King also-” “It’s fine, I am just going to wash up again.”

Genos nodded, but then his head turned in confusion.

“Wait, master. Didn’t you say you were going to go and get groceries?”

Saitama noticed that the only things which he had on him were the bag which held a lot of Astral gum, and blood, and immediately felt the urge to scream.

“After I wash, can you come with me to get the bag?” “We can come!” “NO!”

Saitama yelled, immediately regretting his actions. Lesson learned though: Never Trust Blonds.

The Briefing

“Well Zhenmas, did you expect this outcome?”

Zhenmas was currently drinking coffee. His legs kicked up on the desk, leaned back in his chair, never having looked more pleased in his life.

“Everyone with a brain would have realized this. Saitama is a freak of nature, someone who has surpassed his limits. Being faster than beings such as Flashy Flash, Monster Garou, and Platinum Sperm, people moving so fast that they left light streaks while having their battle. He is so strong that Murata, the series creator, confirmed that he could destroy the Earth. Not to mention he took out millions of stars with his punch against Cosmic Fear Mode Garou.” “Wow, wait! COSMIC FEAR MODE GAROU?! THAT FORM LOOKS SO COOL, HE BEAT IT?!!” “Catch up with the manga, and you would see.”

Zhenmas downed his coffee, looking at the camera with his golden eyes, as he pointed to a scene of Homelander getting hurt from a fight with Queen Maeve.

“Meanwhile, this bastard got a nosebleed from this. That would never happen to Saitama. It appears to me more, as if Homelander is a bitch-” “ZHENMAS is about to show off his bias. Make sure to check out the Homelander and Saitama pages in the description, and go and make sure to have some fun-”

It was then that the door burst in, with a younger man coming wearing a bright red hat saying ‘Homelander Rules’

“NOW I THINK THAT AURORA PERSON IS A BIASED CREATOR-” “Ah shit. Rhoxas cut the camera, CUT THE CAMERA-”