The Model Airplane

An eerie silence settled over the room.

A-Train stepped cautiously inside, looking from side to side as though searching for something.

"Hey, what are you looking for?" Private Angel asked with a displeased frown.

"Where are the cameras?" A-Train asked blankly.

In all the years since The Seven had been founded, there had certainly been victory celebrations, but those were more accurately called commercial events.

Generally, the room would be packed with cameras, with sponsors' advertising signs everywhere.

So A-Train instinctively looked for the cameras.

"Oh, there aren't any cameras."

Homelander spoke softly, his X-ray vision sweeping the room, a hint of disbelief on his face.

This really seemed to be a victory celebration. No, more precisely, a victory party.

The aroma of food drifted through the air.

Soldier Boy frowned in disgust, then suddenly swore. "Fuck, you idiots. I had Private Angel spend all afternoon getting this ready, not so you could come stand at attention."

With that, he walked straight into the room, grabbed a beer, and dropped onto the couch.

Soldier Boy propped his legs on the coffee table. "Turn the music up."

Private Angel swayed her shapely body as she adjusted the sound system.

The room stayed silent for two seconds before A-Train reacted first. "Holy shit! This is awesome!"

As he spoke, he blurred straight over to the food, picked up a steak, and stuffed it into his mouth.

"Woo-hoo!"

The flavor of the tender, juicy steak flooded his mouth, and he let out an excited shout.

Maeve shook her head with a laugh, stunned by the scene before her.

For the first time ever, there was none of Vought's style. This was simply a celebration of their own.

Since joining The Seven, she had attended so many lavish dinners and corporate receptions, but not one had been like this. They had gathered to celebrate simply because they had saved people, a motive so simple it was almost unbelievable.

Thanks to Soldier Boy's arrival, Starlight currently had a fairly good impression of The Seven, and much of the pressure she felt about working as a superhero had eased.

A smile spread across her face. She walked to the table, picked up a beer as well, and sat beside Soldier Boy. "Want to clink bottles with me?"

"Of course." Soldier Boy raised his bottle.

The bottles met with a clink.

Just then, having finished adjusting the sound system, Private Angel suddenly noticed that someone had not moved.

Homelander still stood in the doorway. A streamer slowly settled onto his shoulder, his blue eyes quietly surveying everything in the room as though he were looking at something he had never seen before.

"Homelander?"

Private Angel called to him.

Only then did Homelander snap out of it.

"Hey, you silly kid, come here. I've got something for you."

Soldier Boy beckoned him over.

Homelander walked over slowly, studying everything in the room along the way.

The smell of grilled meat, ice-cold beer, desserts covering the table, and the laughing members of The Seven.

For a dazed moment, it even felt unreal, as though Madelyn might push open the door at any second and tell him, "All right, Homelander, the publicity shoot is over."

Then Soldier Boy patted his shoulder.

"I had someone make you a model airplane."

Soldier Boy pulled an exquisitely crafted gift box from between the couch cushions and handed it to Homelander.

Homelander accepted it, a hint of anticipation hidden in his puzzled gaze. He untied the ribbon wrapped around it, took out the model airplane, and stared at it for a long time.

"This was custom-made as an exact replica of that plane that went down. I want you to remember this day. You did something great."

Soldier Boy took a long drink. When Homelander still said nothing, he frowned and asked, "What, don't you like it?"

Homelander stared blankly. "No, I just remembered a few things."

In a staged show Vought had arranged for a few days later, he would pretend he had a perfect family.

And on the show, he would personally recount how his father had once built model airplanes with him.

While reading the script, Homelander had wished more than once that it were true.

But today, a model carrying a father's love had really appeared.

"I love it. Thank you," Homelander said quietly, carefully repacking the model airplane and treating it like a priceless treasure.

At that moment, the atmosphere in the room had not quite loosened up, and things felt somewhat delicate.

The Seven of the past had essentially been strangers brought together by Vought. They sat together, yet none of them trusted one another, and even their conversations were guarded.

That was not something that could change in an instant.

Besides, with Homelander present, the atmosphere could never truly relax.

A-Train ate a few pieces of food and wanted some more. He stole a glance at Homelander, then withdrew the hand he had just reached out for another steak.

He knew Homelander thought the fastest man in the world should not consume too many calories.

Maeve leaned by the window, drinking alone and listening to the music. When she raised her glass for a sip, she instinctively put on her public-facing smile and struck a pose.

Then she frowned and laughed, realizing she was not attending a public event.

As for Translucent, only his clothes gave away where he was.

The most active of them had to be The Deep.

He trailed after Private Angel, desperately trying to please her. "Ma'am, do you like gemstones?"

"I can give you colored gemstones found only in the deepest reaches of the Pacific. No one in the world has ever owned them."

Private Angel shook her head helplessly.

Ever since she had demonstrated her healing ability by curing A-Train, The Deep had been pestering Private Angel, hoping she could heal his injuries.

"Sorry, handsome. Benjamin must have had his reasons for beating you up. I'm not going to help."

Growing irritated by the harassment, Private Angel could only invoke Soldier Boy's name.

At that, The Deep glanced toward Soldier Boy.

Homelander was looking down, straightening up his gift box, while Soldier Boy had an arm around Starlight's shoulders and kept clinking bottles with her.

The Deep ducked his head, completely deflated, and tiptoed over to A-Train to chat with the only "colleague" he could talk to.

Soldier Boy finished a bottle of "wheat juice" and casually tossed the beer bottle aside.

Why did it feel like something was missing?

He pondered for a while. "Fuck, why is our party so weird?"

He soon discovered the root of the problem.

It was none other than his dear son, Homelander.

Everyone kept sneaking glances at him to check his reactions. The seemingly lively party was actually being sustained by the music alone.

"Hey, quit grinning like an idiot. Go have a drink with them." Soldier Boy bumped Homelander with his shoulder.

Holding the gift box, Homelander slowly let his smile fade and looked up. "What's wrong?"

Soldier Boy clicked his tongue. "Have you ever even thrown a party?"

"Of course. Aren't all parties like this?" Homelander said matter-of-factly, his eyes drifting upward.

He had not noticed anything wrong.

The corner of Soldier Boy's mouth twitched. "Fuck, listen to me. Just take your glass over and smile at them. You'll feel the difference in no time."

"You've scared all these superheroes into super-wimps."

Homelander pursed his lips, not understanding, but still picked up his glass, stood, and walked toward A-Train, who was closest.