The Seven: A Shattered Pantheon? Homelander's Destructive Legacy Unmasked

Remember The Seven? That gleaming, untouchable pantheon of supes, Vought International’s crown jewels? Well, if you’ve been keeping up with The Boys, you know that version of the team is, in truth, a relic of a bygone era. What was once a formidable, albeit morally bankrupt, lineup has now devolved into... well, you could say it’s a bit of a joke, honestly. And the architect of this rather spectacular downfall? None other than Homelander himself.

It’s almost a cruel irony, isn’t it? The very man who craves absolute power, who demands unwavering loyalty and total control, has inadvertently — or perhaps, inevitably — gutted the one institution that solidified his public image. His relentless pursuit of a Vought that bends solely to his will has left The Seven a mere shell of its former glory, a hollow echo chamber for his increasingly erratic demands.

Think about it: who's left standing beside him? Starlight, the moral compass and a genuine powerhouse, jumped ship ages ago, disillusioned by the whole rotten enterprise. Queen Maeve, a formidable force in her own right, was—at least publicly—presumed dead after their clash, stripped of her agency and essentially written out of Vought’s narrative. These weren’t just any members; they were anchors, both in terms of power and what little public credibility The Seven still clung to.

And now? Now we have Homelander, A-Train, and The Deep. Really, just ponder that for a moment. A-Train, whose glory days are firmly in the rearview mirror, perpetually battling a failing heart and his own self-doubt. He’s more of a yes-man than a superhero these days, isn't he? And The Deep, bless his aquatic heart, is a pariah whose primary skill seems to be public relations gaffes and attempts to redeem himself through increasingly bizarre, cult-like self-help. You'd be hard-pressed to find a fan who genuinely considers him a hero of consequence.

Homelander, in his warped wisdom, has sculpted The Seven not into a team of elite protectors, but into a personal entourage of sycophants. Loyalty, above all else, became the sole criterion for membership. Capability? Public perception? Those became secondary, tertiary even, concerns. He purged the dissenting voices, the strong wills, the truly powerful, leaving himself surrounded by those who would—or simply had to—agree with him.

The result? A superhero team that looks less like Earth’s mightiest protectors and more like a thinly veiled, corporate-sponsored dictatorship. The public might not grasp the full depths of the depravity, but they surely see the cracks. The optics are terrible; the roster, frankly, is embarrassing. And this, perhaps, is the true brilliance and horror of Homelander's reign: in trying to make The Seven entirely his own, he has inadvertently shown the world just how weak and pathetic it has become. And that, dear reader, is a weakness Vought, for all its PR machinery, might struggle to spin away.