The Boys: I Became The Soldier Boy

Chapter 29: Chapter 29: Sweetheart, What Are You Doing Here?

Chapter 29: Sweetheart, What Are You Doing Here?

Thirty-eight thousand feet above the Atlantic. A passenger jet was flying smoothly above the clouds. Inside the cabin, one hundred and twenty-three passengers and six crew members were enduring the longest forty minutes of their lives. The plane had been hijacked twenty minutes after takeoff when three hijackers brandished their weapons.

Then, the cabin door was violently torn open. Air rushed inside, oxygen masks dropping in unison. Before the passengers’ screams could even escape their throats, a figure clad in a blue suit and a red cape landed firmly right in the center of the cabin aisle. His cape billowed backward in the violent fluctuations of cabin pressure, his blue eyes gleaming in the dim cabin light like two burning shell casings. Behind him, Maeve landed, her combat boots hitting the cabin floor, her knees bending slightly to absorb the impact.

The first criminal was sucked out of the cabin door by the pressure differential before he could even react. The second turned to shoot, but Maeve’s palm had already clamped around the back of his neck. With a swift twist of her wrist and a sharp crack, his limp body collapsed into the aisle. As for the third criminal, Homelander’s Heat Vision had already burned straight through his chest cavity. The three hijackers were dealt with.

Homelander flicked his wrist, walked over to the cabin door, grabbed the door slab with both hands, and forcefully pulled it shut. The pressure differential vanished, and the screams gradually subsided. He turned around to face the cabin full of terrified passengers, spreading his arms as his lips curled into a standard, eight-toothed smile.

"The crisis is over. You’re safe."

Deafening cheers erupted throughout the cabin. Some wept with their heads in their hands, some slumped in their seats gasping for air, while others shouted, "Long live Homelander!" and "I love you, Homelander!" Standing in the center of the aisle, Homelander bathed in the applause and praise pouring in from all directions. The upward curve of his mouth flexed higher than usual.

Good. When he went back tonight, Benjamin would definitely be even prouder of him. He was constantly getting reamed as a "pussy," but today he had pulled off a flawless operation over the Atlantic. Three lives—no, three criminals—completely neutralized, and the hostages completely unharmed. What else could his father possibly say? This was what fucking growing up looked like.

"Let’s check the cockpit," he told Maeve.

The two pushed open the cockpit door. To their surprise, the pilot was still being held hostage by a fourth criminal. Just like in the original show, Homelander shot the criminal, inadvertently destroying the plane’s control console with his Heat Vision. The indicator lights for all the buttons on the console flickered simultaneously, then half of them went dark. The altitude readings on the instrument panel skipped twice and began to drop.

"What did you do?" Maeve’s voice instantly tightened.

"I don’t know—fuck." Homelander stared at the panel sliced clean in half by his Heat Vision, stabbing at the buttons with his fingers. No response. He stabbed them a few more times, still nothing. The plane gave a violent shudder. Screams erupted anew from the cabin.

Grabbing the door frame to steady herself, Maeve looked at Homelander. "Is the console broken?" ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

Homelander didn’t answer. He stood there, staring at the control panel, the confidence in his blue eyes deflating rapidly like a punctured balloon.

Ruined. The word exploded in his brain, burning hotter than the Heat Vision that had just pierced the criminal’s chest cavity. He had botched it. Just a moment ago, he wanted to make his father proud of him, and now he had entirely ruined the whole plane. The image of Benjamin shaking his head in disappointment surfaced once more, and he could almost hear his father’s voice—Look at yourself. An absolute fucking pussy.

"Lift the plane up," Maeve’s voice dragged him back to reality.

"Lift the plane? How?" Homelander turned around, the agitation in his voice bleeding through. "There’s nothing to push against. We’re in midair, where do I put my hands? If I use leverage, I’ll just tear right through it. Even if I try to lift the plane, my entire body will rip straight through the fuselage."

Maeve fell silent for a moment. "What if you fly out front and intercept it, ram it level?"

"Ram it? At my speed, if I smash into it, the plane will either flip over or get punctured clean through." Mulling it over, Maeve realized it was indeed impossible. She looked out the cabin window at the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, her mind frantically sorting through various plans. The descent, which had already begun, was becoming increasingly obvious, the fuselage tilting downward at an irreversible angle.

"Then we carry them down one by one," Maeve said. "Take the passengers down to the ground one at a time. Fly them to the coast. Or to an island below."

"One hundred and twenty-three round trips?" Homelander glanced back at the sea of heads filling the cabin, then out the window at the boundless Atlantic. "We’re in the middle of the Atlantic."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Maeve’s voice rose as well.

"I don’t know! I said, I don’t know!" Homelander roared, his knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists. He was Homelander. The most powerful Supe on earth. He had super speed, super strength, Heat Vision, flight—he could do anything. Yet faced with a plunging plane and a cabin full of ordinary people, every single one of those abilities was completely fucking useless.

"Listen," Maeve lowered her voice, leaning in close to him. "If Soldier Boy finds out about this—"

Homelander’s expression turned exceptionally ugly in that instant. "He’ll know I botched it... No... Just yesterday, he and I built those model airplanes together..." Homelander’s voice suddenly quieted down, as if murmuring to himself. "He’ll find out. He knows everything."

The passengers in the cabin began screaming again. Women and children were weeping, men were slamming their fists against the armrests, and an elderly woman started reciting the Bible. Homelander marched back down the aisle. He needed to placate the passengers. Whatever happened, he had to keep the crowd under control first.

He reached the midpoint of the passenger cabin, and just as he was about to raise his hands to signal for silence, a familiar little girl’s voice drifted up from below. "Mr. Homelander, you’re going to save us, right?"

Homelander’s steps pinned dead in place.

Mia was sitting in a window seat. Two golden pigtails, a gap-toothed smile, a pink dress. The exact little girl who had smeared her double-scoop ice cream all over his pants at a New York street corner yesterday. She had said, "Superhero, thank you, I love you." Her mother had later bought her a triple-scoop ice cream, along with the Homelander and Soldier Boy father-son action figure set. Right now, those eyes were looking up at him—not with fear, but with absolute trust. When he first boarded, he hadn’t even noticed her.

"Oh my god," he knelt down. "Sweetheart, what are you doing here?"

Beside Mia, her mother was holding her tightly. The mother’s eyes were red and swollen, clearly from crying just moments ago, but the instant she saw Homelander kneel down, her lips trembled as she forced a smile. "We’re... we’re going on vacation..."

Homelander reached out and pulled Mia into his arms. The little girl wrapped her arms securely around his neck, her cheek pressing against his shoulder guard, her cold little hands clutching the fabric of his suit’s back. He glanced back at Maeve. Leaning against the cockpit door frame, Maeve took in the scene, her lips tightly pressed together.

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A/N: Next goal: 300 Power Stones = 1 bonus Chapter!

And if you want to read ahead and find out what happens next right away, you can get up to 20 Chapters ahead on my p@tr~on:

[email protected]/ForgottenDaoist (@ = a, link is in my profile).