Chapter 44 : Daddy
Over the Atlantic Ocean, Transoceanic Flight 37 cut through the night sky.
Only minutes earlier, the situation had seemed under control. Homelander and Maeve had arrived, the hijackers were dead, and the passengers had every reason to believe they were about to be rescued.
Instead, warning alarms blared throughout the cockpit while smoke drifted from shattered panels and exposed wiring.
The lead terrorist lay dead on the floor with a hole burned through his chest. Nearby, the captain and co-pilot remained slumped in their seats, killed before Homelander had intervened.
Maeve stared at the ruined controls.
"What did you do?"
Homelander glanced at the damage.
"I stopped the terrorist."
"You shot through the cockpit."
"He was standing in front of it."
A shower of sparks burst from the dashboard. More displays flickered out, leaving the cockpit illuminated by warning lights and the glow of damaged electronics.
Maeve gripped the edge of the console.
"There has to be something we can do."
Homelander tried the controls himself. After a few seconds he let go, his expression hardening as nothing responded.
The aircraft shuddered again.
Maeve turned toward the cabin.
"We have to save them."
"Maeve."
She looked back.
"We should leave."
For a second she thought she had misheard him.
"What?"
"We leave."
The words hit harder than any explosion.
"There are over a hundred people on this plane."
"You know I can’t carry them all."
"We save whoever we can."
Maeve’s voice was firm, but Homelander shook his head immediately.
"And then what?" he asked. "The plane still goes down, and the people we save spend the next week telling every news station in the country that we abandoned everyone else."
His expression hardened as he continued.
"Do you have any idea what that does to me? To Vought? To the military deal?"
For a moment Maeve couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
More than a hundred people were about to die, and Homelander’s biggest concern was the fallout afterward. Not the passengers. Not the families waiting for them at home. The headlines.
She looked back toward the ruined cockpit.
Only minutes earlier she had walked through the cabin promising everyone that everything was under control. People had believed her. She could still remember the relief on their faces when they saw the Seven arrive.
Now she knew exactly how this ended.
Homelander placed a hand on her shoulder.
"We’re leaving."
Maeve didn’t argue.
The truth was that she didn’t have a solution.
A few moments later they stepped out of the cockpit and into the passenger cabin.
The reaction was immediate.
Passengers surged toward them from every direction, talking over one another as questions filled the air. People wanted reassurance. They wanted answers. Most of all, they wanted someone to tell them they were going to survive.
Homelander’s public smile appeared instantly.
"Everything’s fine," he said smoothly. "We’ve got the situation under control."
The effect was almost immediate.
Tension eased across the cabin as people clung desperately to the words. Some passengers sat back down. Others wiped tears from their eyes. A few even looked embarrassed for having panicked.
Maeve felt sick.
They were trusting him.
Then a man sitting near one of the windows looked outside.
His expression changed.
"We’re losing altitude!"
The shout cut through the cabin.
Heads turned toward the windows.
Within seconds the fragile calm collapsed. People surged from their seats. Parents pulled children close. Questions turned into shouting as fear spread through the aircraft faster than either hero could respond to it.
"We’re going to die!"
The cabin descended into chaos.
Homelander’s smile faltered.
The noise was getting to him. The crying, the screaming, the desperate pleading all blended together into an unbearable wall of sound that scraped against his nerves.
Then the aircraft jolted.
Once.
Twice.
The entire cabin lurched as passengers grabbed armrests and seats to steady themselves.
And then, suddenly, the descent stopped.
Confused murmurs replaced the screaming.
People looked around uncertainly as they realized the aircraft was no longer dropping. Some glanced toward the windows. Others stared at each other, trying to understand what had just happened.
Homelander frowned.
For the first time since boarding the plane, genuine confusion crossed his face.
The passengers didn’t notice.
All they knew was that they were still alive.
Recovering almost instantly, Homelander spread his arms and flashed his trademark smile.
"See?" he called out. "Like I told you. Nobody’s dying today."
Relieved laughter rippled through parts of the cabin.
Maeve didn’t join them.
Her attention remained fixed on the nearest window because she knew exactly how impossible this was.
Then the cabin speakers crackled to life.
A calm voice echoed throughout the aircraft.
"Well, dear passengers of Transoceanic Flight 37, sorry for the turbulence. I’m happy to announce that this flight is no longer in danger."
The voice continued.
"You are now in extremely safe hands, and I am pleased to inform everyone that our destination remains New York."
A few people actually laughed.
The sudden shift in mood was almost surreal. Only moments ago people had been convinced they were about to die. Now someone was casually making announcements like a flight attendant with a questionable sense of humor.
Homelander’s jaw tightened.
He didn’t like it.
He especially didn’t like the fact that somebody else had stolen control of the situation.
Ignoring the passengers, he pushed his way back toward the cockpit.
Maeve followed close behind.
The moment they entered, both of them looked through the shattered cockpit window.
A man with white hair hovered ahead of the aircraft.
One arm was extended toward the nose of the plane while brilliant blue energy surrounded both him and the massive airliner. Despite the size and weight involved, he looked completely relaxed.
Homelander stared.
Then his expression darkened.
"Who the fuck are you?"
The white-haired man glanced back over his shoulder.
A grin spread across his face.
"Your daddy."
*****
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