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He walked up to Tony, looking down at the man who had just crawled out of the tin can.
"He looks… like he could use some personal space."
"By the way, Tony."
A sincere smile spread across Anthony's face.
"My movie, Homelander: Origins, premieres worldwide in six weeks. I'll… send you a VIP invitation."
"You… arrogant… blond bastard…" Tony trembled with rage.
"Thanks for the compliment."
Anthony looked away. He turned, his cape cutting a graceful arc through the air.
"Mr. President, let's go."
He grabbed the President's arm, shot skyward, and vanished into the darkness before dawn.
Only Tony Stark remained, cradling his "glowing" lover on the debris-strewn, corpse-littered deck, hair whipping in the icy sea wind… disheveled.
High in the sky.
Anthony studied the exhausted man in his grip, a smile full of hidden meaning on his lips.
President Matthew Ellis… how will you repay me?
The night wind was like ten thousand ice needles, trying to pierce the President's expensive suit.
He had never been this cold in his life, or this sober.
The so-called "courage" he'd honed on golf courses and Capitol Hill was a pathetic joke beside the massacre he'd just witnessed and this "human-flight" express.
"H-hold tight, Mr. Homelander!" President Ellis's teeth chattered; he clung to Anthony's arm like a lifeline.
"Relax, Mr. President."
Anthony's voice was terrifyingly calm.
He wasn't flying at full speed—just a "comfortable" subsonic pace.
One hand "carried" the most powerful man in the country; the other rested casually behind his back.
"My God…" Ellis stared at the coastline shrinking into a map below. "You… you saved my life. America… owes you."
"Oh, a favor?" Anthony smiled.
The word sounded cheaper coming from a politician than ice in a glass of whiskey.
"Mr. President," Anthony stopped dead in mid-air.
Ellis's heart skipped with him; the weightlessness tore a short scream from his throat.
"Do you think I want a favor?" Anthony turned to face Ellis.
"I… I…" President Ellis floundered.
"I saved your life. In minutes I ended a terror attack that would've kept the Pentagon in meetings for a year." His voice was soft, colder than the wind.
"And Tony Stark, the so-called Iron Man—with his clanking scrap-metal—got pinned down by terrorists. He couldn't even protect his woman."
"While I—" Anthony pulled Ellis closer, "—I showed up… I won! Just like I always win."
"What… do you want?" President Ellis finally asked.
"What I want?" Anthony laughed.
"Mr. President, I want nothing. It's you who needs me."
…Over Washington, the last darkness before dawn was split by a red-and-blue streak.
Anthony, carrying a mortal at a comfortable speed, was flying halfway across America.
That mortal—Matthew Ellis, current President of the United States—kept his eyes shut, face bloodless, fingers locked around Homelander's arm.
"Relax, Mr. President, we're almost there. Your suit's a cheap cut—needs changing."
Ellis didn't catch the last part; he felt his organs about to shoot out of his throat.
"Hold on—landing in five."
4:00 a.m., White House.
Every light on the South Lawn blazed; Washington's security network was going insane.
Secret Service agents leveled P90s, forming a perimeter while choppers thumped overhead.
"God—look! What is that?!" a young agent shouted skyward.
"Unknown aircraft, incoming fast!!"
"Open fi—hold fire! That's… that's…"
Whoosh—!
A sudden gale.
Anthony cradled President Ellis and descended in one powerful, flawless motion to the center of the South Lawn.
His star-spangled cape draped elegantly behind him.
"…"
Dozens of agents, rifles up, stared dumbstruck.
"Mr… Mr. President!!"
"My God—it's Homelander!!"
"He… he brought the President back!!"
Click-click-click-click—!!
Reporters outside the gates went berserk!
Through the fence they fired shutters, flashes blazing like noon.
The photo would become the century's iconic Pulitzer hopeful—"Homelander Saves the Union."
Ding! Popularity +250,410!
Ding! Popularity +301,152!
Ding! Popularity +284,471!
…
Power surged again inside Anthony.
"Nicely done, me," he thought.
"Now this… is marketing."
"Mr. President!" Secret Service lead Agent Flynn reacted first, rushing Ellis inside… to the Oval Office.
The fireplace roared.
Matthew Ellis huddled in a thick wool blanket, brandy glass in hand, the hand still shaking uncontrollably.
The office was packed.
Defense Secretary, Secretary of State… and the Vice President who had stayed "invisible" throughout.
The VP looked paler than the President—he knew he was finished.
"Everyone out." President Ellis's voice was hoarse.
"Mr. President, we must—"
"I said get the hell out!" Ellis snapped, hurling the glass to the floor.
"Leave… Mr. Homelander."
They exchanged glances, but no one dared disobey.
Under Anthony's half-smile, the VP practically crawled from the room.
The heavy oak door shut.
Only two men remained.
"All right…" Ellis began, "whatever the cost, I owe you my life, Mr. Homelander."
"Call me Anthony, Mr. President."
"You look terrible, Matthew." He used the President's first name.
President Ellis blinked, but offered no objection.
Before this man, his presidential authority was as fragile as tissue paper.