"You know something?"
Antony tilted his head slightly, a look of almost pity crossing his face.
"I really hate people like you—lab experiments."
"They remind me of things I'd rather forget.
Even if those memories don't technically belong to me."
"You don't understand a damn thing!" Savin roared.
He staggered back and slammed his thumb down on a detonator.
BOOM—!!!!
The explosives he had planted along the aircraft's side detonated instantly.
He knew he couldn't win head-on.
So this was Plan B.
A massive hole—nearly ten meters wide—was torn open in the side of the cabin.
At cruising altitude.
The terrifying pressure difference exploded inward.
Service carts. Luggage. Loose equipment. Documents.
And then—
"AAAAAAAHHHHH—!!!"
Thirteen surviving crew members, aides, and Secret Service agents were ripped straight out of the aircraft like leaves in a hurricane, screaming as they were hurled into the abyss ten thousand meters below.
Savin threw his head back and laughed hysterically.
"Hahahahaha!!"
"Go save them, Homelander!" he howled.
"Go on! You're a hero, aren't you?! Hahaha!!"
He stared at Antony triumphantly.
"You're really loud," Antony said coldly.
The laughter stopped.
"You think you've given me a dilemma?"
A cruel smile spread across his face.
"I didn't come here to play games with you, you overheating piece of trash."
Savin's instincts screamed danger. He moved to trigger the explosives on himself—
ZZZRRRT—!!!
Antony's eyes flared deep crimson.
No warning. No delay.
Two beams of heat vision—core temperature exceeding 5000°C—cut clean through the air.
SPLRT—!
Eric Savin's head split neatly in half, like a watermelon cleaved by a blade.
Half his body dropped to its knees with a dull thud, the wound cauterized black.
Antony didn't even spare the corpse a glance.
"Ashley," he said calmly, reopening the comm line.
"Plan A complete. Initiate Plan B."
"B—Plan B?" Ashley's voice crackled, completely confused.
"Correct."
Antony stepped to the edge of the gaping hole. Freezing wind roared past him, his star-spangled cape snapping violently.
Below, thirteen dark silhouettes fell through the clouds.
"Plan B is called—"
he smiled,
"Getting on camera."
His heat vision ignited again—this time not for killing.
For cutting.
He targeted a section of the aircraft floor—still reinforced, carpeted, with seven rows of seats attached.
"Slice… slice… turn… clean cut…"
Like a meticulous sculptor, Antony carved a perfect rectangle from the belly of Air Force One.
"Done."
He lunged forward and kicked—
CRASH—!!!
A massive slab of aircraft flooring—nearly ten meters long and five meters wide—ripped free from the fuselage.
Seats, rails, everything intact.
Antony grabbed the edge mid-fall, stabilizing himself.
Dragging the enormous metal "platform," he pivoted sharply and shot downward toward the thirteen screaming figures.
"I'm gonna die!!"
One flight attendant flailed helplessly, the thin air stealing her breath.
Just as her vision darkened, a powerful arm wrapped around her waist.
"Hey."
She opened her eyes.
And saw the face she'd only ever seen on television… and in dreams.
"H-Homelander?!"
"Hang on, sweetheart."
He flashed her a million-dollar smile.
He gently—but decisively—tossed her onto the platform.
THUD.
"Sit tight. Buckle your seatbelt."
"WHAT?!"
"BUCKLE YOUR SEATBELT! Turbulence ahead!"
"AAAAAH—!!"
Antony was already gone.
"Save me! Please!!"
A White House aide tumbled through the sky.
Antony caught him by the collar.
THUD.
"Seatbelt!"
"Next!"
THUD.
"Seatbelt!"
"Next!"
THUD.
"Seatbelt!!"
Last one.
"Done."
All thirteen. Not one missing.
Most were in shock—but instinctively followed orders, gripping the seats and strapping in.
"Ladies and gentlemen,"
Antony said, gripping the front edge of the platform like a nose cone.
He cleared his throat and turned back with a professional smile.
"Welcome aboard… Homelander Airlines."
"Please keep your goddamn seatbelts fastened—this flight may get a little bumpy."
WHOOOOM—!!!
He accelerated.
The massive slab stabilized, its fall transforming into controlled glide.
-----
Meanwhile—Times Square, New York
As chaotic and alive as ever.
Giant screens looped trailers for Homelander: Origin.
Suddenly—
Every screen went black.
"Hey! What the hell?!"
"Where's my Homelander, sweetheart?!"
The next second—
All screens switched to the same emergency live feed.
"Oh my God… we are witnessing something unbelievable!"
Shaky helicopter footage filled the displays.
Air Force One's wreckage.
A massive chunk of aircraft flooring carrying over a dozen people gliding across the New York skyline.
And at the front—
That red, white, and blue figure leading them through the sky.
"He did it… Homelander… he caught them all!!"
"My God—he turned the plane into a lifeboat!!"
Thousands in Times Square looked up in unison, mouths agape.
They saw him.
They saw the live broadcast figure emerging from the clouds.
Antony kept the platform perfectly level as he swept across the skyline.
He could hear the screams below.
He didn't care.
Vought Media's helicopters hovered in perfect formation.
"Closer! Closer! I want the close-up!!"
the Vought cameraman screamed into his mic.
"NOW!"
Antony reached directly above Times Square.
Slowly—
He changed position.
From pulling—
To lifting.
He flew beneath the massive platform and raised it with both hands.
Thirteen lives.
One impossible weight.
CLICK—!!!!
The shutter snapped.
The image that followed would become legend.