Inside the cockpit of Oceanic Flight 37, warning alarms continued blaring without pause. Smoke drifted through the damaged controls, and most of the instrument panel had been destroyed.
Homelander stared at the mess in silence. The terrorist was dead — unfortunately, the heat vision that killed him had also torn through the cockpit equipment. Critical systems were gone, and the pilots were beyond saving.
"Well, Maeve, I think we should leave," Homelander said while examining the ruined controls. His voice carried disappointment more than concern. "There's nothing left to work with here."
The mission had been a perfect opportunity. If he had saved the plane, public support would have exploded overnight. The military contract Vought wanted would have been all but guaranteed. Instead, everything had gone wrong.
Maeve turned toward him in disbelief. "Leave? Homelander, there are still people out there. We have to do something."
Homelander looked back at her. "Do what, exactly?"
"We save them."
His expression remained unchanged. "By doing what? The controls are gone. The pilots are dead. The aircraft is falling."
Maeve stepped closer. "Then carry the plane."
Homelander immediately shook his head. "That's not how physics works. There's nothing for me to stand on. I lift the nose, the rest of the thing snaps apart. I push from underneath, I punch straight through the fuselage."
"Then take people down one at a time."
Homelander sighed. "And leave hundreds to die while we rescue a few dozen? You really want the survivors telling the world we picked favorites?"
The alarms continued screaming around them. Maeve looked toward the cabin. "We can't just abandon them."
"Maeve, listen to me. The plane is finished. The moment those controls went up, this became a lost cause." He paused.
"People don't forgive failure. They remember it forever. If even one person survives and tells the world that Homelander couldn't save a plane, that's the headline. Not the terrorists. Not the bravery. Just failure."
Maeve stared at him. "You're seriously thinking about your image right now?"
Homelander met her gaze without shame. "Of course I am. Image is everything."
Hundreds of innocent people sat only a few meters away, trusting that America's greatest hero would save them.
Homelander had already moved on. For him, the important question was no longer how to rescue the passengers — it was how to make sure nobody survived to witness the failure.
"Well, once again you've managed to demonstrate just how selfish and pathetic you really are."
The unfamiliar voice immediately drew both their attention. Homelander and Maeve turned toward the shattered cockpit window.
A man with white hair and red eyes floated outside the aircraft as if gravity meant nothing to him. A camera rested casually in his hand, and from the angle he was holding it, it looked like he had been recording the entire conversation.
Homelander's expression darkened. "What the fuck are you doing?"
Ethan glanced at the camera. "Making a movie. Honestly, the material writes itself."
The smile vanished from Homelander's face. Without another warning, his eyes burned red and twin beams of heat vision erupted across the cockpit, shooting directly toward Ethan.
The attack never reached him. Ethan simply raised one hand, and the crimson beams bent away from their path and disappeared harmlessly into the sky.
Maeve stared. Homelander stopped. For the first time since the hijacking began, something unexpected had happened.
"Yeah, those things don't work on me," Ethan said calmly. "Now stop hiding in there and come outside."
Homelander exploded forward. The remains of the cockpit shattered further as he burst through the opening at full speed.
Ethan didn't move. He merely waved his hand.
Homelander suddenly felt his cape tighten around his neck.
Before he could react, the fabric wrapped itself into Ethan's grasp, and the next moment Ethan swung him through the air and hurled him across the clouds like discarded luggage. Homelander disappeared into the distance.
Maeve blinked. The entire exchange had taken only seconds.
Ethan looked at the cape still hanging from his hand with visible disgust. "Seriously, who even wears flags for capes? Narcissism should have limits." He tossed the fabric aside and glanced back at the damaged aircraft.
Good thing he remembered this incident. Otherwise, a lot of innocent people would've died because somebody cared more about approval ratings than human lives.
"Now, let's take all of you home," Ethan said as he casually raised his hand toward the damaged aircraft.
The violent shaking immediately stopped. The plane remained in the air and the descent ceased completely, as though the laws of physics had simply been told to wait.
Maeve felt the difference instantly. She looked at Ethan with disbelief. "Who exactly are you?"
Ethan kept his eyes on the aircraft. "For now, just think of me as someone lending a helping hand." A faint smile appeared on his face. "And also Homelander's biggest fan."
Maeve stared at him. After everything she had just heard inside the cockpit, that statement was the least believable thing in the world.
***
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