The Superman Template

It was nearly dark when Homelander returned to Vought Tower.

Something had gone wrong after all.

Everyone who had been rescued had suffered injuries of varying severity. Those with weak constitutions had gone straight into intensive care, and those a little worse off had died outright.

The current injury count stood at 110, including 23 seriously injured and 12 dead.

Compared with the hundred-plus people Homelander had saved, the public cared more about those who had died. Chasing traffic, the media suddenly began extensively reporting the numbers of injured and dead.

The internet was awash with abuse.

"Fuck," Homelander cursed under his breath through gritted teeth. His mood had been on a roller coaster since he learned of the news.

The initial reception had clearly been excellent. When the first batch of reporters arrived, there had been nothing but praise and cheers.

But as Homelander prepared to return to Vought, another batch of reporters stopped him, all accusations and pointed questions.

He had done everything he could to save so many people aboard the plane, only to receive blame instead of credit. No one could have taken that enormous emotional whiplash.

He headed toward Soldier Boy's room.

All along the way, the reporters' questions kept flashing through his mind, as annoying as flies.

"Mr. Homelander, why did people still die?"

"Mr. Homelander, do you bear responsibility for this accident?"

"Mr. Homelander, could the casualties have been avoided if you had handled things more appropriately?"

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

The more Homelander thought about it, the more irritated he became. I saved over a hundred people, and all they care about are the dozen who died. Do these people have shit for brains?

The door to Soldier Boy's room swung open.

The room was lively. Starlight lay on the couch while Private Angel kept stroking her head to heal her.

Soldier Boy looked over at the sound of the door opening, and Homelander suddenly felt a little nervous.

He stood there, unsure what to say, before finally squeezing out, "I'm back."

Soldier Boy slowly exhaled a mouthful of smoke. "How many died?"

Homelander's body tensed slightly. Here it comes. The question I dreaded most.

"Twelve."

"Seriously injured?"

"Twenty-three."

Soldier Boy fell silent. In that quiet, Homelander's heart sank little by little under enormous pressure.

Did I still screw it up?

Just then, Soldier Boy suddenly took the cigar from his mouth and casually tossed it aside. "That few?"

Homelander froze, puzzled. "What?"

"I said, only that few died?" Soldier Boy frowned. "Fuck, are you deaf?"

Homelander stared at him blankly.

Soldier Boy continued, "Everyone on that plane was supposed to go to hell, but only that few died."

"All I can say is those idiots were pretty fucking lucky."

Homelander was utterly bewildered.

Soldier Boy stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and looked out at New York at night.

"John, you did well. Our people have already brought that giant snake back. Ordinary bullets can't even pierce its hide."

"With a monster like that in the way, who the fuck could guarantee everyone would survive? Probably not even God."

Homelander stood there in a daze.

Soldier Boy turned around, his voice suddenly rising.

"Do you think you've failed unless you save every last person? What's in that stupid head of yours?"

Homelander said nothing. That was indeed what he thought. Vought did not allow imperfection. Imperfection meant vulnerability to attack. It meant risk.

Those were things no company wanted to see.

At a loss, he nodded.

Soldier Boy cursed outright. "Bullshit. Complete fucking bullshit."

"Those dogs at Vought ruined you."

"Especially that old quail Madelyn, telling you every day to be perfect, to be great, to be a god, only to turn you into an idiot who does nothing but watch his approval ratings."

The room fell utterly silent. Private Angel did not dare interrupt. She could feel that Soldier Boy was genuinely angry.

Soldier Boy grew angrier as he spoke. "Do you know what a hero is? A hero knows he can't save everyone and still fucking charges in to save them."

"Instead of standing on the sidelines posing for commercials, and certainly not working out a PR strategy the moment something goes wrong."

Homelander gave a slight shudder.

No one had ever said these things to him. He had never agreed with that kind of thinking before, but the person saying it now was Soldier Boy.

After a moment of silence, Homelander said, "But my fans will leave me. They won't love an imperfect superhero."

"Then let them." Soldier Boy scoffed. "Why care what idiots who can't think for themselves believe?"

Soldier Boy said earnestly, "All you need to know is that you saved over a hundred people who should have died."

Hearing that, Homelander felt much of the weight lift from his heart.

Soldier Boy walked back over and gave his shoulder a firm pat.

Homelander swayed under the blow, the corners of his mouth rising a little despite himself.

"Don't worry. Hold a press conference tomorrow. I'll go with you."

Soldier Boy gave him a reassuring look.

[Ding]

[Detected: under his old father's verbal onslaught, Homelander is no longer burdened by worry. He is enthralled by the feeling of having someone stand in front of him when trouble strikes, and has become even more dependent on his old father.]

[Reward: Exchange Points ×100]

[Current Exchange Points: 350]

Soldier Boy's breathing grew a little heavier.

That worked too?

It was enough to show that if Homelander had grown up in a normal family, he definitely would have fit the Superman template.

A few minutes later, Homelander left, his steps much lighter than when he had arrived.

When he browsed the news again, he saw large numbers of survivors' family members speaking out.

The lights in Vought Tower stayed on all night. Under Soldier Boy's instructions, Ashley Barrett and the PR department went to work.

The next day, the press conference was held at Vought Tower.

A-Train, Starlight, and Queen Maeve, who had been involved in the plane crash incident, were already waiting at the venue. None of them looked particularly happy after reading the news.

The reporters' questions, coming one after another, irritated them even more.

Homelander spent over ten minutes hesitating backstage, repeatedly recalling what Soldier Boy had told him the night before, before finally gathering the courage to enter the press conference.

The reporters' cameras flashed nonstop.

Ashley Barrett's expression changed. Having stayed up all night, she understood the current climate of public opinion better than anyone.

Vought's PR department had desperately tried to steer the conversation, throwing out survivor interviews, footage from the scene, and rescue videos, but the results had fallen far short of expectations.

Because the deaths were real. Twelve dead and twenty-three seriously injured were far more newsworthy to the media than over a hundred people being rescued.

Below the stage.

Hundreds of reporters were already itching to begin, cameras and lenses of every size all aimed at the podium.

Homelander had barely sat down before the first hand went up.

"Mr. Homelander." A middle-aged reporter stood. "According to the figures currently released, this accident caused twelve deaths. Do you bear responsibility for this?"

The smile on Homelander's face froze for an instant. The same damned question as yesterday-he could practically recite it from memory.

Beside him, A-Train remained silent while Maeve frowned. They exchanged a glance, seeing the helplessness in each other's eyes.

Only Starlight clenched her fingers nervously, her beautiful eyes full of confusion and anger.

She did not understand why things had turned out this way.

Homelander took a deep breath. Soldier Boy's words from the night before kept echoing through his mind as he struggled to maintain his smile and restrain the urge to kill the reporter.

"I did everything I could."