Chapter 195: Taking Friends Aboard The Flying Palace
Back in Liam’s bedroom, the late morning sunlight streamed softly through the glass wall, painting streaks of gold across the white sheets.
He picked up his phone, leaned back against the bedframe, and typed a short message into the group chat.
"Anyone free for a short trip?"
He hadn’t even set the phone down before the replies started flooding in.
Matt: "Free. Where we going?"
Kristopher: "Same. Just say when."
Harper: "Don’t tell me you’re finally taking us up in the A380?"
Alex: "Don’t tease, bro. Please say yes."
Lana: "Wait—what kind of trip?"
Stacy: "I’m packing already."
Kristy: "Already packed."
Elise: "You know we’ll all cancel whatever plans we had, right?"
Liam blinked in amusement. He had expected maybe one or two of them to be available, not all of them. He had mostly sent the message out of courtesy, figuring they were busy with work or classes but he hadn’t expected them to actually be free.
He smirked and typed again.
"Why are you all lazing around and not working your bones off?"
The reply came almost instantly from Kristopher.
"Got fired. Well, technically promoted. No longer have to clock in. I’ll explain when we meet. I’m sure you will have a good laugh."
Liam’s brows lifted slightly, intrigued.
"Promoted and fired," he murmured, shaking his head. "That’s new."
Still, he had a faint idea of what might have happened. Ever since the world found out about him, certain institutions had been bending over backwards to accommodate anyone remotely close to him.
He smiled and typed back.
"Alright. Meet me at the airport. Imperial Hangar Four."
Matt: "On it."
Harper: "Bet we’ll get there before you."
Kristopher: "Not a bet you’ll win, but I respect the confidence."
Liam chuckled quietly and set the phone aside.
He stood, changed into a casual dark ensemble — black jeans, white shirt, a tailored jacket.
When he walked downstairs, Mason and Nick were already waiting by the foyer. Mason, calm as always, straightened his jacket. Nick stood by the car key.
"Everything ready?" Liam asked.
"Yes, sir," Mason replied.
"Let’s go," Liam said simply.
They stepped out into the courtyard, the sunlight glinting across the deep chrome of the Rolls-Royce Ghost.
The air was calm — deceptively calm — until the gates began to open.
That was when the outside world crashed in.
Cameras flashed from the sidewalk outside. The faint sounds of distant engines grew louder. A few shouts carried across the air:
"Is that him?"
"It’s can only be him!"
"Liam Scott! Over here!"
Mason’s gaze flicked toward the tinted glass, but Liam didn’t bother looking. He simply slid into the back seat, resting his elbow on the armrest.
Nick started the engine, and the car glided forward smoothly, the heavy iron gates closing behind them.
It had been just over three days since The Black Titan — his private A380 — first took to the skies.
And in those three days, Holmby Hills had turned into a fortress.
The FAA had imposed restricted flight zones over the area after news choppers began hovering too close. LAPD now patrolled the streets at all hours to keep the constant stream of onlookers under control. Curious drivers kept circling the neighborhood, hoping for even a glimpse of the mansion or the cars inside.
They never got one.
Liam hadn’t left the property once since the A380’s maiden flight. Every gate was sealed, and even the Maybach hadn’t left the garage.
Yet, the crowd had never gone away — only grown more desperate.
And now, as the Rolls glided down the hill, that desperation flared. Every phone camera along the roadside turned toward him.
The flashes didn’t stop.
Half a dozen black sedans fell into formation behind them — paparazzi and freelance streamers chasing the story of the century.
"Persistent, aren’t they?" Mason muttered under his breath.
"They will eventually get tired," Liam said evenly, eyes on the skyline ahead.
Nick drove without a word, weaving calmly through the traffic, heading toward the airport. Within minutes, they pulled through the security gate.
Imperial Hangar Four stood at the far end of the strip, its massive steel doors half-open.
Liam saw them before he even stepped out — his friends clustered near the entrance, mid-conversation.
When the Rolls stopped, their heads turned in unison.
"Finally!" Matt called out. "We thought you were going to stand us up!"
Liam stepped out, smiling. "I told you I’d come."
"Yeah, but you’re you," Harper said with a laugh. "You could’ve texted ’change of plans and we’d have believed it."
Liam chuckled lightly. "Good to see you too."
They gathered around him, exchanging handshakes and quick hugs. It felt normal — or as close to normal as life around him could be.
"Alright," Liam said, nodding toward the hangar interior. "Let’s go."
They followed him inside the hangar.
Even though they had seen photos online, nothing could have prepared them for the real thing.
The A380 stood at the center of the hangar like a black monolith, its sleek surface glimmering under the industrial lights.
Harper’s jaw actually dropped. "That’s not a plane. That’s a... cathedral."
Kristopher let out a low whistle. "Man, you weren’t kidding when you said private jet."
"Private jet? That’s a mobile city!" Matt said, spinning slowly in place.
Liam smiled faintly, saying nothing. He simply walked toward the stairway that led to the entrance, the others trailing behind like tourists at a museum.
When they entered, silence followed them. Every step inside drew a new gasp.
"Bro..." Alex murmured.
Liam only smiled. "Glad you like it."
While his friends explored the main deck, the ground crew outside was already towing the plane toward the runway. The deep, mechanical rumble echoed through the hangar, followed by a slow lurch as the titan began to move.
When the massive aircraft rolled into open daylight, every nearby worker, pilot, and bystander stopped what they were doing.
For a moment, the entire airport seemed to hold its breath. And then, just as before, the cameras came.
Phones, long lenses, drones hovering from a distance — they all turned toward the dark behemoth gliding across the tarmac.
Within minutes, aviation livestreams were flooded with updates:
"Black Titan sighted. Taking off again from LAX."
"Unconfirmed reports say Liam Scott is onboard."
"Second flight within a week — this time with passengers."
The feeds exploded across every platform.
Back inside the aircraft, Liam and his friends were still adjusting to the scale of the cabin.
"This is ridiculous," Kristopher said, leaning back on one of the leather seats.
Their laughter filled the cabin, as the engines began to hum. The cabin lights dimmed slightly as the aircraft powered up.
"Strap in," Liam said. "We’re about to take off."
Matt looked around. "Where are we even going?"
Liam smiled. "Somewhere quiet."
The others exchanged curious glances but didn’t press further.
As the aircraft began to accelerate down the runway, the outside world blurred. The noise of flashing cameras, the distant chaos of online chatter — all of it fell away in seconds.
The Black Titan lifted gracefully into the sky, sunlight glinting off its wings as it climbed higher, higher — until it vanished into the clouds.
Down below, the streams were already blowing up with comments:
"He’s flying again!"
"Where’s he going this time?"
"That thing still looks unreal."