Chapter 45 : Big Child
"Daddy?" Homelander asked, staring at the stranger floating ahead of the aircraft.
For a moment he genuinely thought he’d misheard. Out of everything he’d expected to hear today, that wasn’t on the list.
"Of course, son," Mark replied with an easy smile.
The confusion left Homelander’s face immediately, replaced by something considerably less pleasant.
"Tell me who the fuck you are," he said, voice dropping several degrees. "Otherwise—"
"Otherwise what?" Mark interrupted.
Red light began building behind Homelander’s eyes. Normally that ended most conversations — people saw that look and suddenly remembered how fragile they were. Mark looked mildly entertained.
"For somebody who’s supposed to be the strongest man on Earth, you spend an awful lot of time trying to intimidate people."
The glow intensified. "You think this is intimidation?"
"I think you’re throwing a tantrum because somebody else has everyone’s attention."
Homelander’s jaw tightened. The worst part was that he couldn’t immediately deny it.
Mark’s eyes began to glow — deep blue, brightening steadily — and the energy surrounding the aircraft responded, waves of light rippling across its surface. Even Maeve felt the shift.
"Laser eyes?" Mark said. "That’s your big threat?" His smile widened slightly. "I’ve got laser eyes too. The difference is mine hit harder."
The temperature in the cockpit seemed to drop.
Maeve had spent years around Homelander. She knew exactly how dangerous he became when his ego took a hit, and right now somebody was taking a sledgehammer to it.
"You think you’re better than me?" Homelander said.
Mark looked back without hesitation. "Right now I’m carrying a passenger jet while you’re standing inside one."
Maeve turned toward the side window. Not because she’d found something interesting outside — because if Homelander saw her trying not to laugh, this would become catastrophically worse.
"Don’t provoke me," Mark said, and for the first time the amusement left his voice. The blue in his eyes sharpened. "I care a hell of a lot more about the people on this plane than you do. When things went wrong, I actually did something about it."
He didn’t wait for a response.
"But if you want to push this, go ahead. I’ll beat the absolute shit out of you, and after that I’ll make sure everyone finds out exactly what happened here today."
The grin came back, casual and unhurried, which somehow made it worse.
"I can make your life a nightmare, Homelander. And unlike most people, I actually have the free time to commit to it." He tilted his head slightly. "So don’t make Daddy angry."
Mark could already see it — Homelander was right on the edge. The only thing holding him back was the same thing that always held him back.
He cared too much about public approval, and the need to be loved was practically hardwired into him. For all his power, he was a grown man trapped in the headspace of an attention-starved child.
Mark almost felt sorry for him.
Almost — then he remembered where all of it came from.
Vought had spent decades engineering disasters and acting surprised when those disasters detonated in their faces.
First Soldier Boy, then Homelander. Neither of them ever real heroes — just products. Marketable weapons dressed in patriotic branding, sold to the public as symbols of hope. And Vought never learned.
If Homelander dropped dead tomorrow, they’d do it again with a different face, a different name, and the exact same result.
I really fucking hate Vought.
Homelander was the monster in front of him. Vought was the factory that kept building them.
Maeve looked at Homelander and understood immediately. The anger was still there, simmering just under the surface, but she’d spent enough years around him to know how to redirect it.
"Homelander." He turned. "Think about what happens next."
She gestured toward the passenger cabin behind them.
"Every single person on this plane gets home safely. Tomorrow they’re on television talking about the miracle rescue they witnessed. News channels cover it for weeks. "
"Vought gets exactly what it wants, the military sees a successful rescue, everybody wins."
Homelander said nothing, his gaze drifting across the rows of passengers. Maeve recognized that look — he wasn’t seeing frightened civilians anymore. He was seeing interviews, headlines, and public praise.
The anger gave way to calculation.
When he looked back toward Mark, the hostility was still there, but it was no longer on the verge of becoming a problem.
"Sounds like this can work," Maeve said.
Mark shrugged. "Good. I’d rather not explain to air traffic control why the world’s strongest man got into a midair fistfight."
Before Homelander could respond, the cabin speakers crackled to life.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your emergency replacement pilot speaking."
Passengers looked around in confusion.
"I’m happy to report that despite recent scheduling difficulties, unexpected acts of terrorism, and a severe shortage of qualified pilots, we will still be arriving in New York."
"Please remain seated, keep your seatbelts fastened, and refrain from doing anything that would make this flight even more complicated than it already is."
Nervous laughter moved through the cabin, noticeably less nervous the second time around.
Maeve looked back toward the cockpit window. Outside, Mark continued flying ahead of the jet, blue energy wrapped around the entire aircraft, steady and unhurried.
The situation was completely ridiculous.
The fact that it was somehow working made it harder to believe.
*****
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