Chapter 49: You're Not a Real Hero

"You saved us!"

"I love you, Homelander! You're the greatest hero in the world!"

"No, no, no—you who stood strong and fearless in the face of ruthless hijackers until now... you are the real heroes!"

Amid the cheers and applause in the cabin, a smug smile crept across Homelander's face, nearly splitting his cheeks. He returned the passengers' praise with fake humility, clearly enjoying the moment.

He couldn't help but smirk to himself. After saving the plane, Madelyn would shower him with gratitude, those idiots in The Seven would finally recognize how indispensable he was as their leader, and that useless board member—only privileged by birth—would be left fuming helplessly. Homelander could barely suppress a satisfied hum.

Just then, Maeve noticed something was off in the cockpit. She kicked down the metal door—only to find a terrorist holding a gun to the pilot's head. The co-pilot lay in the adjacent seat, throat slit.

"N-No, calm down!"

Maeve rushed to deescalate the situation.

Another terrorist?

"I'll handle this," Homelander growled, stepping forward through the crowd of passengers.

Bang!

Seeing his comrades dead and Homelander's grim expression approaching, the terrorist panicked. He shot the pilot in the head and then turned the gun toward himself, ready to pull the trigger.

"You're dead!"

Without hesitation, Homelander's eyes lit up with fury. Twin beams of heat vision tore forward, slicing the terrorist clean in half before he could end his own life.

Zzzap!

But the deadly laser also ripped through the control panel behind him. Freezing high-altitude winds howled into the cockpit through the hole now torn in the plane's fuselage.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Alarms blared as the aircraft lost control and began a rapid descent.

Maeve gasped.

The cold air snapped Homelander out of his smugness. His smile froze.

Had… had he just screwed up?

Staring at the sparking, smoking breach in the cockpit, a faint ringing echoed in his ears. He recalled how confident and smug he had been when mocking Utopian earlier.

"Hello? Air Traffic Control?"

With the pilot dead, Maeve tried desperately to call for ground assistance, hoping someone could guide them to safety.

"Can you fly a plane?" she turned to Homelander, panic in her eyes.

"Even if I could, what good would it do?" he said, pointing at the control panel—now blasted open and venting air.

"So what do we do now?"

Maeve was shaking, completely overwhelmed.

Despite her chaotic personal life, much like her namesake Queen Maeve of Irish legend, she was the only member of The Seven who still had a shred of conscience and the courage to risk her life for others.

Caught off guard by the question, Homelander quickly shrugged, feigning nonchalance. His expression read: Don't look at me—how should I know?

As if the plane crashing into the Atlantic and shattering into pieces wasn't his fault at all. As if it were just some unavoidable, freak accident.

"What happened to the controls?"

Some passengers craned their necks to peer into the cockpit. They gasped in horror. Even those who couldn't see the damage could feel the violent turbulence from the nosedive. They gripped their armrests tightly, faces pale, unable to move.

"The plane's going down!"

"No! I saw the coastline just a second ago! Oh God, save us!"

"Homelander's here! He'll save us, right? He has to!"

"Why are we suddenly crashing?!"

From ten thousand meters above, the plane plummeted toward the earth. Chaos erupted in the cabin—screams, cries, and panic. Homelander's face twitched.

These annoying civilians—always panicking and shrieking over nothing, assaulting his ears. Couldn't they just die quietly and with some dignity?

"You have to go out and catch the plane, hold it up!" Maeve shouted over the wind.

"How? At this speed, I'd either crash straight through it or flip it over!" Homelander shook his head.

"Then carry them down one by one!" Maeve's voice cracked with desperation.

Over a hundred lives were at stake!

"You can do it—I know you can!"

"No. Are you joking?" Homelander sneered. "You want me to make hundreds of trips back and forth? What do I look like—a tireless Pegasus on airport duty?"

His tone made it clear: he thought Maeve's suggestion was beyond ridiculous.

Maeve stared at him in shock. She couldn't understand how he could act as if the deaths of over a hundred people—caused by his own mistake—had absolutely nothing to do with him.

"No, this doesn't matter—so long as you can still sa—"

Maeve, who had once been romantically involved with Homelander and knew him well, trailed off mid-sentence. She saw the cold, irritated look in his eyes as he glanced at the panicked passengers, as if he wanted the plane to crash into the ocean right now.

Her mouth fell open in horror as she finally realized why Homelander refused to act.

To the world, Homelander was a flawless saint of a superhero—unparalleled, never wrong.

If even one person on this plane survived and told the truth about what had happened in the cockpit, his perfect image would be shattered.

He couldn't allow that.

.....

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