Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman

The Deep's swimming speed was legendary, and by the time Bruce leapt onto the cargo ship, the outcome was already decided.

With the power of magic, taking down a group of smugglers was almost laughably easy.

As the cargo ship returned to the port, the smugglers were unceremoniously tossed onto the docks, bound tightly. Waiting reporters swarmed in like a tidal wave.

"That was incredible!"

One reporter couldn't help but exclaim. "For a moment, I thought the mission was going to fail!"

They had been watching from a safe distance, careful not to interfere with the superheroes' operation. Now, finally, they could voice their admiration freely.

"I've never seen such a creative fighting style before!"

A reporter thrust a microphone in The Deep's direction. "Mr. Deep, how did you come up with the idea to transport Bruce in that way? It's not something most people would think of!"

The Deep's face was a mess of bruises and swelling from his earlier encounter with the ship's propeller. The pain was nothing compared to his simmering rage.

Damn reporters! he cursed internally. Couldn't they wait until I had time to touch up my appearance?

Did they think he didn't care about his image? What would his fans think? Between his and Bruce's combined followings, they had over ten million fans!

But the reporters were relentless, continually asking him about his "creative" method.

"Because I trust Bruce!"

The Deep forced a bright smile, despite the pain.

"I knew Bruce could handle the smugglers. My job was simply to get him to them!"

Was that the truth?

Hell no.

In reality, Bruce had forced him into being a human surfboard, but The Deep couldn't admit that.

He swallowed his grievances silently.

Bruce's star was on the rise, his net worth in the billions. Even a crumb from Bruce's fortune could set The Deep up for life. Any resentment he felt had to stay buried deep inside.

Then a reporter posed a delicate question:

"Didn't you feel overshadowed? I mean…"

And embarrassed, they almost added, but thought better of it.

The Deep shook his head with a casual smile.

"Bruce and I are on great terms. The guy has magic—he's unbelievably fascinating. Of course, he's going to draw attention. I don't mind at all."

---

After the interviews, Bruce and The Deep returned to Vought Tower.

The Deep wasted no time heading for the medical center, eager to nurse his wounds.

On Bruce's shoulder, Kathoom gave him a cheeky thumbs-up with one of his wings.

"How'd it feel surfing on The Deep?"

"Meh," Bruce replied, shaking his head. "Not the best experience. Hopefully, he improves next time."

"Don't be too hard on him," Kathoom said with a laugh. "You've officially joined the ranks of people who've ridden human mounts. Now we've got something in common!"

"Wait, what?"

Bruce paused, puzzled. Since when did Kathoom have a human mount?

He decided not to press the matter.

Returning to his lounge, Bruce switched on the TV to check the news.

A breaking story immediately caught his attention.

A plane had crashed into the ocean, its debris scattered across the water. No passengers had survived.

Onscreen, Homelander and Queen Maeve were giving a solemn interview.

"They weren't doomed from the start," Homelander said, his voice heavy with emotion as he addressed the reporters.

His eyes conveyed a complex mix of pain, regret, guilt, and anger.

"We arrived three minutes after the crash," he continued. "Why? Because we aren't integrated into the command system! If we were, those lives could have been saved. Over two hundred men, women, and children…"

Homelander wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, his sorrow palpable to anyone watching.

It took him a moment to collect himself before he resumed speaking.

"But!"

His tone shifted, growing passionate.

"If we're brought into the national defense command structure, I can promise you all—this will never happen again!"

"That is my solemn vow as a superhero."

He turned to Maeve suddenly.

"Isn't that right, Maeve?"

Caught off guard, Maeve snapped out of her daze and quickly nodded. "That's right."

With his teammate's agreement, Homelander's energy surged.

He pointed to the wreckage washing ashore, his voice rising with conviction.

"I promise you, this will never happen again! Never!"

"God bless you all, and God bless America!"

---

In the vice president's office at Vought Tower, Madelyn Stillwell watched Homelander's interview with a smile she couldn't suppress.

The sound of a door opening and closing was followed by a knock.

Homelander's voice came from outside.

"May I come in?"

"Of course."

The door swung open, and Homelander strode in, his demeanor triumphant. His performance had been impeccable, so convincing that even he had almost believed it.

Madelyn, visibly thrilled, approached him and cupped his face in her hands.

"You were brilliant," she said, her tone filled with pride.

Homelander's face lit up with a broad smile as he gently closed the door behind him.

"Good boy, good boy," Madelyn cooed as they both took seats on the sofa.

Her mood was nothing short of jubilant.

"I didn't expect you to seize such a perfect opportunity. Once this story spreads, public opinion will tilt heavily in our favor!"

Madelyn Stillwell's voice brimmed with praise.

"Your performance exceeded my expectations entirely. How did you manage to reach the crash site so quickly?"

"Because I was already on the plane," Homelander replied nonchalantly. "At first, I thought it was just a hijacking, but then the pilot died. Saving 200 people was too much trouble. I'd have been exhausted."

"Well done!"

Madelyn's tone was encouraging. "If you'd saved those people, we wouldn't have achieved such a powerful impact. Come here, sweetheart."

She gently unfastened her dress, revealing her stockings-clad thigh.

Homelander swallowed hard, slowly reclining onto the lap he had dreamed of for so long.

"Do you remember what I told you before?"

Madelyn caressed his face tenderly. "What do you represent?"

"Hope, baseball, America, sunshine," Homelander recited with his eyes closed. "But not revenge."

The memory stung. Once, he had taken matters into his own hands and killed one of Madelyn's enemies, only to be reprimanded.

It hurt deeply. He had overheard Madelyn being berated by a senator in the next room and simply wanted to help her.

But instead of gratitude, all he received was scorn.

When she chastised him, Homelander felt like a child being scolded by his mother—longing for affection but receiving none.

At least now, things were different. He had finally done something to earn her approval.

"No one represents revenge," Madelyn said softly. "This world doesn't need revenge. With you here, everything is moving toward a brighter future."

A smile spread across Homelander's face.

"I could do more for you," he suddenly offered.

"You've already earned us billions of dollars," Madelyn replied with a shake of her head. She leaned closer, looking at him with warm, maternal eyes.

"For now, you don't need to do anything else. Just keep doing what you've always done."

Homelander frowned.

"What I've always done? Smile, look handsome, and read from a script?"

To him, her words confirmed his worst fear—that she still saw him as nothing more than a tool, without any deeper meaning.

"You're doing great," Madelyn reassured him, her tone soothing. "You've always protected us. Can't you let me protect you for once?"

The first time Homelander heard those words, they might have moved him to tears.

But by now, he had heard them too many times.

The happiness he had felt lying on her lap dissipated like smoke.

A disturbing thought crept into his mind: What if I'm not as smart as I think I am?

What if Madelyn has been using me all along?

No! That couldn't be true.

Homelander's inner conflict raged. He told himself that the warmth he felt from Madelyn was real—it had to be love.

"All right, that's enough for today. You should get back to work."

Madelyn patted his cheek, the gesture reminiscent of a mother swatting her child's backside.

Reluctantly, Homelander sat up, still clinging to the memory of her touch.

But it was clear: Madelyn was done with him for now.

---

Walking the streets, Homelander looked lost and dejected.

"It's Homelander!"

A group of kids ran up to him, their wide, innocent eyes gazing up in awe.

"Can we take a picture with you?"

"Of course, kids! You're the real heroes!"

He beamed his trademark sunny smile and posed for photos.

As soon as he turned away, however, his expression collapsed, returning to its earlier despondency.

Sigh…

Just as he let out a heavy sigh, another voice called out in delight.

"It's Homelander!"

Another group of kids came running, another set of photos taken, another practiced smile plastered onto his face.

No matter where he went, more fans seemed to appear, demanding his time and energy.

Homelander finally had enough. Activating his super speed, he vanished from the bustling streets, reappearing outside a small, quiet bar.

It seemed peaceful enough—a place where he could drink in solitude, even if he couldn't actually get drunk.

The chime of a bell greeted him as he opened the door. The bar's interior was dimly lit and oddly decorated.

Does Madelyn love me, or is she just using me?

The question gnawed at him as he made his way to the counter.

A woman's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Take a seat, kid."

Kid?

Very few people would dare address Homelander like that. Intrigued, he looked up.

Behind the bar stood a strange woman, wiping a glass with a practiced hand.

Her green hair and pale face were striking enough, but the painted smile on her face—a grotesque mimicry of cheerfulness—made her even more unsettling.

Is this what a normal woman looks like?

Homelander frowned but decided to stay. After all, what could she possibly do to harm him?

He dropped himself onto a barstool with a heavy thud.

---

Hello! Thank you so much for reading this chapter. WiseTL has worked hard to bring these wonderful stories to you, and I'm so happy we could share this moment together! Don't you think stories are a little like dreams? Each one has its own colors and shapes, and they grow even brighter when shared with others.

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