Thank you, sweetheart

The middle-aged reporter immediately pressed him. "So you're saying the deaths of those twelve people were unavoidable?"

A second reporter stood up.

"Some aviation experts have said that a more reasonable rescue plan might have kept the death toll below five. What are your thoughts on that?"

Homelander slowly clenched his fists and lowered his head, hiding his twisted expression.

He realized that no matter how he answered, these reporters could find a new angle of attack.

Ashley Barrett went pale.

Oh no. She knew this state all too well.

Homelander was angry. The crucial thing was that he would not show that anger to the public on camera. The Seven and she would inevitably be the ones to bear the brunt of it.

A third reporter stood up.

"Some of the victims' families believe you caused this tragedy. Are you willing to apologize to them?"

Homelander's head buzzed, and every sound around him began to blur. He felt as though he were back in yesterday.

Why did twelve people die? Why didn't you save everyone? Why weren't there zero casualties?

Fuck you. I'm Homelander. I do whatever the fuck I want!

His breathing grew heavier. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at the reporters who kept firing questions at him.

Scarlet flared in his irises, and his Heat Vision erupted. Two searing red beams swept across the reporters, slicing apart those who had still been chattering a second earlier.

Blood sprayed, staining the cameras and microphones red.

Homelander laughed with excitement. The scene instantly descended into chaos, the reporters' sobs and screams becoming music to his ears.

He turned his head slightly, his Heat Vision cutting across the fleeing reporters. The press conference instantly became hell on earth.

One second later.

Homelander came back to his senses. The press conference was completely unharmed.

Everything just now had been a fantasy, but he did feel much better.

He could not help thinking how nice it would be if he really could do whatever he wanted.

The reporters had no idea how horribly they had suffered in Homelander's mind. They held up their cameras and microphones, pressing him aggressively.

Just then, a voice suddenly rang out:

"Apologize?"

Someone scoffed at the back of the room. The sound was not loud, yet everyone heard it clearly.

The reporters all turned around, and Homelander's eyes suddenly lit up.

Soldier Boy had arrived, with Stormfront following half a step behind him, looking like a secretary.

Every gaze fell on Soldier Boy. His leather boots struck the floor with heavy thuds.

This legendary hero who had disappeared for forty years, now the most talked-about superhero in the United States, walked up to the podium step by step.

He surveyed the room, a cigar between his lips and his hands in his pockets, his face full of irritation, as though someone had dragged him out to work overtime just after he woke up. Then he reached out and pulled a reporter's microphone in front of him.

"Who was it that just said he should apologize?"

No one spoke.

The old soldier's presence was overpowering, like a nuclear bomb ready to go off at the slightest spark.

Soldier Boy smiled, but there was something dangerous about it. "I stayed up watching the news until midnight last night, and I realized you bastards really know how to put on a show."

A stir instantly ran through the audience. The reporters exchanged glances.

Homelander looked utterly stunned. He had never seen a superhero dare to act so brazenly on camera, but deep down, he hoped Soldier Boy would give the reporters a good beating.

Ashley Barrett nearly fainted.

We're live! This is being broadcast across the entire United States! For the love of God, rein it in!

But Soldier Boy did not care at all. He went on, "There were over a hundred and forty people on that plane, and over a hundred survived. Yet you spent all night talking about the twelve who died."

He spread his hands and surveyed the room.

"Fuck you. Should firefighters hold a meeting before rushing into a burning building from now on? Guarantee no one dies before they go in to save people?"

The room was terrifyingly silent. No one had expected Soldier Boy to be so blunt.

"Or should we stop rescuing hostages during terrorist attacks, too? If a hostage dies, should we throw the entire police force in prison?"

The reporters' expressions began to sour.

Homelander sat there, staring blankly at Soldier Boy, his heart beating faster and faster.

No one had ever said anything like this in his defense before the media.

Vought only ever had Madelyn tell him to keep smiling, control his emotions, and never make mistakes.

Soldier Boy pulled over a chair, sat down with his legs spread wide, and glanced at Stormfront.

Stormfront nodded slightly and snapped her fingers toward the backstage area.

The projector screen at the press conference lit up, displaying high-definition satellite footage.

A massive snake writhed among the clouds. Not far away was the civilian airliner.

"Do you know how big that snake was yesterday?" Stormfront said loudly. "Over two hundred meters long. It could fly, and its venom could burn through steel."

"Even conventional missiles might not have killed it. The military had no way to deal with it. Those hundred-odd people on the plane were certain to die."

"Homelander saved them by acting in time."

"You sit in air-conditioned rooms, drinking coffee and watching television, and ask a man who risked his life saving people at the scene why he didn't save everyone?"

The entire room fell silent. The reporters quietly aimed their cameras at the giant snake on the screen.

This was another bombshell. Yesterday, the White House had already ordered a complete blackout on the real cause of the plane disaster.

They had not expected Vought to be bold enough to reveal it right at the press conference.

Backstage, Madelyn ground her teeth when she saw the giant king cobra being revealed.

Repeated orders that the footage must not be leaked, and this was the result?

This had to be Ashley Barrett's handiwork again!

Just then, a young voice suddenly came from a corner. "Can I say something?"

Everyone froze and turned to look. A little girl of seven or eight was holding up her hand, clutching an old Homelander doll.

She was the girl from the plane. She had come through largely unharmed, and her mother had brought her by the hand to watch the press conference.

A staff member passed her a microphone, and every camera turned toward her at once.

The little girl was clearly nervous. She looked at Homelander, then at the reporters, before finally gathering her courage.

"I was on the plane yesterday. Mommy told me that without Homelander and Miss Maeve, I would already be dead."

She hugged her doll tighter, her voice growing quieter. "So I think he's a hero. Why do you keep saying mean things about him?"

That simple sentence suddenly left the reporters at a loss for what to say next.

They could question Homelander and Vought, but no one could tell a little girl who had survived, "You're wrong. The man who saved you isn't a hero."

Homelander looked at the little girl. She gave him a shy smile, her eyes as clear as Lake Baikal.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Homelander said softly.

At that moment, he could not help imagining how nice it would be if he had a child of his own.

"Homelander did everything he could."

Queen Maeve suddenly spoke. She faced the reporters with the air of someone throwing caution to the wind. "I watched Homelander try every possible way to save people."

"I know some of you reporters must be stirring things up behind the scenes, eager to see chaos. But no matter how public opinion develops, I will stand by Homelander."