Chapter 15

You have two days to give me what I want (which is comments) until I'm satisfied, and if you don't? Well… bye bye hostage for the next week! Mwahahaha!

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Chapter 15

"This is channel 7 and welcome back to your daily hero news~!" A woman dressed in a vibrant red blazer and a crisp white blouse, her hair pulled back in a stylish bun, says brightly into the camera. "Ladies and Gentlemen, today we have a very special guest on our show for today's daily hero interview~"

"Tonight," she said, her electrifyingly green eyes twinkling, "we are astoundingly privileged to have with us someone who needs no introduction but deserves one, nonetheless. She is a beacon of justice, a paragon of virtue, and an embodiment of undeniable courage!"

The studio lights shone brighter as they threw the spotlight onto the grand entrance.

The red curtains began to part, creating an anticipation that could be cut with a knife. A gust of wind followed by a bright light made its way into the studio. Suddenly, standing tall in the midst of the magnificent spectacle, as if materializing from thin air, was Queen Maeve. Her majestic figure was clad in a shimmering armored suit that bore the colors of her kingdom: royal blue and valor gold.

Her eyes, a bright shade of sky blue, sparkled brighter than the finest jewels under the studio lights. Her long golden hair flowed down her shoulders like a waterfall of liquid sunlight, bouncing with her every step.

Queen Maeve raised her hand in greeting, offering the audience her ever-charming smile – one that had been imprinted in their hearts since her first appearance became known to the world. She strode across the stage with a confidence that resonated through every corner of the room.

The crowd erupted into cheers, their claps echoing through the studio like thunder.

"AHHHHHHH!!! MAEVE, WE LOVE YOU!!!"

"QUEEN MAEVE! QUEEN MAEVE! QUEEN MAEVE!"

"WE LOVE YOU MAEVE!!!"

"Welcome Queen Maeve!" The host exclaimed as she scrambled to regain control over her excitement, matching the energy vibrating throughout the audience. "It's an absolute honor having you with us today."

Queen Maeve took her place on the plush ruby-red couch set up for her and nodded at the host graciously; her simple action caused another outbreak of applause from the ecstatic crowd of adoring fans.

She waited patiently for the applause to subside, her smile never wavering. The host, now seated across from her, took a moment to compose herself before diving into the interview.

"Queen Maeve," she began, her voice filled with admiration, "you've been a symbol of hope and strength for so many, especially to all the women in the world. Could you share with us what motivates you to continue fighting for justice and what drives you to be the inspiring heroine you are today?"

"Wow, we're getting right into it, huh? Queen Maeve leaned slightly forward, her expression thoughtful.

"My motivation…" she paused, her gaze lingering on the countless faces in the crowd, each one reflecting an expression of admiration and worship. "Shouldn't be much of a surprise."

She paused to create a moment of suspense before she gave her answer.

"John is my motivation, my inspiration to be a hero. Or as the world commonly knows him, Homelander."

A murmur of surprise and intrigue rippled through the audience at the mention of the revered hero.

"Really? Well, that's news for me! The host replied, her eyes widening in surprise. "Could you kindly explain how Homelander inspires you?"

Maeve nodded her head, all too willing to explain.

"Despite being the strongest hero in the world, probably being more than able to lift a small island if he wanted to," continued Maeve, "he never loses sight of who he is. And is constantly striving to be the best person he can be, not just for himself or for us heroes but for every single person out there. His tireless dedication to saving lives, his unwavering commitment to doing what's right, has always inspired me ever since I met him."

The audience sat in rapt attention as she spoke these heartfelt words.

"And it's not just in the big things, but also in the small everyday actions." Her voice echoed through the silent room, each word causing a ripple of emotions amongst the audience. "John never fails to show kindness to those around him, no matter their status or situation."

At this, she allowed herself a tender smile, one that seemed both nostalgic and slightly sad.

"Just like how he...he tries his best to comfort a crying little girl despite holding up a collapsing building on top of him," Queen Maeve chuckled lightly. "Or how he refuses to leave until he makes sure everyone is ok."

The audience laughed along with her, some even shedding tears at the gentle sentimentality of it all.

"And it's that humble human side of John that keeps me grounded. Reminds me why I'm doing what I'm doing." She ended her answer with a firm nod and a smile that seemed brighter than the studio lights.

A chorus of applause reverberated throughout the studio, intensifying with every passing second. Even the usually composed host was clapping fiercely, her eyes gleaming with pure admiration.

"That's really inspiring Queen Maeve," she finally managed to say once the thunderous applause died down. "It must be an amazing experience to work side by side with someone like Homelander."

Queen Maeve responded with a gracious smile as she nodded. "Yes, it really is."

"Seeing him out there," she went on, her eyes glowing with admiration and respect. "Watching him put everything on the line time after time without ever asking for anything in return..."

She rested back in her seat, taking a moment to collect her thoughts before adding, "We may wear different colors and go by different names, but at the end of the day, we're all fighting for the same cause – to create a better world for everyone."

Her powerful words reverberated through the hushed studio, hanging in the air before being devoured by a deafening roar of applause. The sound was like a tsunami crashing against the shore, overwhelming and all-encompassing. The audience's enthusiasm filled every corner of the room, their hands clapping together in unison like a synchronized heartbeat. It was a moment of pure electricity, charged with emotion and energy.

The host paused, looking at Maeve thoughtfully, allowing the applause to gradually die down before she posed her next question.

"But speaking of Homelander," she began, her voice warm and inviting yet laced with a hint of curiosity. "There's something your fans have been dying to know about your relationship with Homelander. The two of you certainly seem to be more than just teammates on and off camera! The fans are all aflutter about you and Homelander! Could you shed some light on that?"

Maeve's eyes widened slightly at the question, but she didn't lose her composure. A noticeable blush crept onto her cheeks.

"Of fucking course…" Maggie tirelessly thought to herself, a fake smile now plastered on her face.

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Seven's Base

Black Noir walked down the crowded hall of the Seven's base, his silent presence a striking contrast to the lively chatter that filled the air. His sleek, pitch-black costume blended effortlessly with the shadows that cast long, dark lines across the concrete floor.

His mask concealed his face entirely, leaving no hint of emotion or thought — just an intimidating void of blackness. The blank slate of his mask reflected back at observers their own fears and unease.

The mere sight of him was enough to draw a hush over the crowd, making the atmosphere tense and charged like a storm ready to burst.

As he strode down the corridor, people naturally parted before him, creating a path that cut through the bustling hallway like a blade. The scene was eerily reminiscent of the biblical miracle where Moses parted the Red Sea, only this time it was not water that was dividing but people.

The thrum of conversation quieted as he passed, the usual buzz of activity in the hall fading into a hushed silence. It was as if Black Noir's mere presence brought with it a vacuum of quiet, a sphere of solitude that traveled with him wherever he went.

Despite having worked alongside him for years, even those within The Seven couldn't help but feel a wave of trepidation washing over them whenever they crossed paths with Black Noir.

Just as quickly as the silence had descended upon them, sounds of chatter and movement resumed once he moved past, an audible sigh of relief rippling through the crowd. His presence was unnerving, even by those who were deemed heroes by Vaught.

Without uttering a word nor changing pace, Black Noir turned sharply to his left and made his way toward the single door that lined the hall. He did not knock before entering the room and closed the door behind him, leaving it unlocked.

The room was devoid of any natural light, as it lacked windows and relied solely on artificial lighting. The plain white walls were unadorned, giving the impression of a sterile and lifeless space. The emptiness echoed through the empty room, creating an eerie atmosphere. Not even a speck of dust dared to linger in the air, adding to the coldness that permeated the room.

Nothing else was in the room… except a single piano.

Black Noir approached the piano with purposeful steps, his boots barely making a sound on the polished white floor. As he reached the instrument, he gently lifted the lid, revealing the pristine keys beneath. Black Noir paused for a moment as he took a seat, his fingers hovering just above the ivory. 

Then, with a grace and skill that belied his imposing presence, he began to play Nocturne. The notes flowed effortlessly from his fingertips, filling the room with a hauntingly beautiful melody. Each note resonated with a depth of emotion that seemed impossible for the silent, enigmatic figure.

The melody continued, rising and falling with a melancholic grace as if Black Noir was pouring his very soul into the keys. The room, once empty and silent, was now alive with the rich, complex sounds of his performance, echoing through the soundproofed room.

As Black Noir played, he was lost in the music, his fingers dancing over the keys with ease. The tension and intensity that he usually carried seemed to melt away, replaced by a calm serenity that was as surprising as it was rare.

The somber music danced around the room, touching each corner with an aching tenderness. It flowed like a gentle river, winding its way softly as it carried away all thoughts and worries. Black Noir played with a passion that was almost palpable, his fingers dancing over the keys as if they had a life of their own.

The notes of the nocturne followed one another in a steady yet mournful rhythm, each tender stroke of the keys echoing hauntingly throughout the room. In their wake, they left behind a silence so profound it was as if time itself had stopped and bowed its head in respect.

As the melancholic melody reached its peak, Black Noir's fingers paused over the instrument. He stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, his entire being absorbed in this rare moment of vulnerability. Then, as quickly as it had come, the music ceased, leaving behind an echoing silence that filled the room with its quiet emptiness.

Slowly, Black Noir lifted his hands from the piano keys and placed them on his lap. He sat there for a long moment, motionless and silent, as if he were listening to some silent melody only, he could hear. His masked face revealed nothing of what was going on behind it. The echo of the nocturne still hung in the air around him.

"That was beautiful Noir." A voice suddenly said from beside him seemingly out of nowhere.

Most would be surprised or freak out at the sudden intrusion, but Black Noir didn't so much as twitch. He simply turned his head toward the source of the voice, his unblinking mask the only response he gave. Tilting his head slightly as if to acknowledge the person who spoke.

Sitting beside him was John, his leader and the number one hero of the world, Vaught's greatest creation.

"Was that Chopin?" John asked, patiently waiting for Noir to answer.

The masked figure didn't speak - he never did. But he gave a slow nod, the only confirmation John would receive.

"It really was beautiful," Homelander repeated softly, as he looked at the man beside him. He gestured towards the piano keys which were still vibrating slightly from their recent use. "I didn't know you could play."

Black Noir didn't respond verbally but simply nodded once, his silent demeanor unchanging.

"I used to play the piano as well," John began, his gaze fixed on the piano. "When I was very young... my mother taught me."

A fleeting smile crossed his chiseled features at the memory. He looked back to Noir, his gaze thoughtful as he took a deep breath, readying himself to share something he hadn't shared for a long time. Something that he thought he would never tell anyone.

"I used to wake up in the morning and listen to her playing downstairs," John continued, his voice low and filled with nostalgia. "The music would drift up through the floorboards, the sound so pure and beautiful that it made even the darkest days seem bright."

John's eyes seemed to glaze over; clearly lost in his memories. The room fell into silence again, this time it was a heavy silence, filled with emotions and unspoken words.

"It filled our house," he said finally, breaking the silence with his quiet words. He turned to look at Black Noir again. "It filled my life."

"I'd sit for hours practicing scales and arpeggios with her, my small fingers pressing down on each key with as much focus as a young child could muster. I remember how my fingers used to hurt after hours of playing, but I wouldn't let myself stop until I had it perfect like her…"

"But then... everything changed," John's voice trailed off and he looked away, his gaze focused on some distant point outside the soundproof room they were confined in. His jaw clenched as he grappled with memories he had long pushed into the recesses of his mind.

"I stopped playing after she passed away," John confessed quietly, barely audible against the now stark silence that had settled between them. His words hung heavily in the air like an unshed tear.

John's gaze dropped to his hands as he drew in a shuddering breath.

"There was one song, though," he said after a moment, his voice slightly stronger than before. "One song that we used to often play together, one that I don't think I could ever forget…"

"The Can Can," he revealed with a soft chuckle — a sound so foreign, yet it filled the room with warmth.

His fingers started gliding over the keys, playing a few notes of the peppy tune. The abrupt change from Chopin's Nocturne was startling but somehow fitting. "She and I would compete against each other to see who could play it faster and with as few mistakes as possible."

A shadow of a smile graced his face as he continued to step through the lively tempo with an ease that spoke of well-remembered muscle memory. "She would always let me win."

His fingers fell away from the keys, leaving the echoes of the lively tune lingering in the air. The moment stretched and filled with a silence deep enough to hold all the words and memories that had been unearthed.

Homelander turned towards Black Noir once more. "How about it? You up for the challenge?"

…

…

…

After a pause that felt like forever, Black Noir shifted in his seat. His gloved fingers gently took their place on the keys. With his head bowed slightly, he began to echo the lively tune of 'Can Can' that John had just played.

His movements were tentative at first, like the hesitant flutter of a butterfly's wing. Each note resounded with a cautious quaver - a stark contrast to John's confident rendition. But as the last echo of the opening drifted away, Noir's confidence began to bloom. His posture straightened and his fingers began to dance over the keys, picking up speed at every note played.

Noir stopped, he turned to John and slammed his hands down on the keys as if accepting his challenge.

He got a smile in return.

"Alright! Let's see if you can keep up with me!"

When John's fingers joined his on the keyboard again, it felt like two pieces of a puzzle clicking together. They played in sync, sometimes falling behind only to catch up moments later, like two brothers engaged in a playful competition.

Noir played primo.

While John played secondo.

Noir's gloved hands mirrored John's bare ones on the keys, their rhythm perfectly synchronized beneath the vibrant notes of the melody they shared. A soft chuckle slipped past John's lips - it was happy and genuine, one that filled the room with an air of joy and contentment. It reflected off of Noir who surprised himself by answering back in kind with a sound that had never left his lips before.

"You're messing up quite a bit there, Noir! Don't tell me you want to lose to me that badly!"

Noir simply responded by flipping him off with one hand while playing perfectly with the other.

The melody they created was flawless; each note blended seamlessly into the next creating a harmonious web of sound that reverberated throughout the room. The once somber space had transformed into a concert hall filled with life, light, and laughter - their laughter.

And so they continued, their playful banter building on the backdrop of the lively music. Their fingers raced effortlessly across the keys in near-perfect harmony, their eyes locked onto each other's. It was as if the rest of the world had faded away, leaving only the two of them and their shared melody.

John couldn't help but get lost in it all. The rhythm of his fingers dancing across the piano keys; it was like a piece of his past, he never thought he'd relive.

For a brief moment in time, they were not top-grossing assets of Vaught, not the world's greatest hero, or an obedient lapdog.

They were simply two people enjoying life and music.

But soon, even the most beautiful songs had to come to an end.

The musical duel culminated with a flurry of keys, both musicians fighting to keep up with the fast-paced tune. John was the first to falter, hitting a wrong note which caused him to pause momentarily. It was all the opening Noir needed to surge ahead, his fingers dancing deftly over the keys as he brought the song to a triumphant finish.

Noir slowly turned towards John, an unspoken question held in his eyes. For a moment, John didn't respond, his gaze still fixated on the keys beneath his fingers, as if they held all the answers he ever sought.

Then, with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of ages, John looked up. His eyes met Noir's, reflecting the same raw vulnerability that was etched onto Noir's face. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he extended his hand toward Noir.

"Well done," he said with a wide smile. "You won."

Black Noir stared at him for a moment before he took John's offered hand and shook it.

For a brief moment, Noir stared at John, his masked face unreadable. Then without a word, he stood up from the piano bench and moved towards the exit, his silent presence leaving behind a weight that filled up the air.

John watched as Noir left. He stayed seated at the piano for a few more minutes, replaying their duet in his head and letting himself get lost in memories of his mother. The only sound interrupting his thoughts were gentle vibrations from the piano strings slowly coming to rest.