Transmigrated into The Boys, Starting as Soldier Boy

Mister Marathon quickly pulled himself together, putting a smile back on his face as he cautiously glanced at Benjamin.

After all, who didn’t know Homelander was Soldier Boy’s son?

And Soldier Boy cared about him. A lot.

By now, Mister Marathon understood exactly what kind of relationship those two had, so there was no way in hell he was going to say a single bad word about Homelander in front of Benjamin.

Some things could be thought, but not said.

"Forget all that old crap."

Mister Marathon quickly changed the subject, rising with renewed enthusiasm and waving the two of them toward the wall on the other side.

"Come take a look at what I’ve done over the years. I’ve made a hell of a lot of movies. I don’t show up on the big screen much these days, but back then? Heh, not to brag, but those films were a pretty damn big deal for a while."

The wall was covered in movie posters, all starring Mister Marathon, from his earliest black-and-white films to his later color action movies. They were arranged in neat rows, like a carefully curated museum of his own personal history.

Standing in front of the posters, Mister Marathon walked Benjamin through each movie like he was showing off priceless family heirlooms, talking about how he had done his own stunts back in the day, how he would fight with the director and then end up drinking with him afterward, and how hard he had pushed himself when he was young.

Benjamin listened with a glass in hand, nodding now and then.

He honestly didn’t care much about Mister Marathon’s old movies, but since Mister Marathon was such a huge fan of his, Benjamin was willing to sit there quietly and let him reminisce.

But just as Mister Marathon was getting carried away, waving his arms around while describing the details of an explosion scene, heavy footsteps came from the direction of the stairs.

Very heavy.

A figure slowly came up from downstairs, his shadow falling across the living room floor before he appeared.

The moment he reached the top of the stairs and stepped into the light, the atmosphere in the room changed.

That’s right.

It was Bombsight.

He wore a dark jacket, and his hair was much shorter than it had been back then, but his eyes hadn’t changed. They were still sharp as ever.

He had originally come to buy something from Mister Marathon. He was a regular here, dropping by every so often, and Mister Marathon was used to having him over. He just never expected to walk into this today.

Bombsight stopped in his tracks. His gaze landed on Benjamin, and his pupils shrank.

"Ben. Well, I’ll be damned."

Bombsight spoke slowly, irritation clear in his voice.

He stood at the top of the stairs, staring hard at Benjamin, a mess of complicated emotions churning in his eyes.

Bombsight envied Benjamin. He had envied him for many, many years.

He envied that stupidly handsome face, envied all the beautiful women who threw themselves at him, even envied that natural presence he seemed to be born with.

The guy was clearly just a fake soldier, yet somehow he stole all the spotlight.

And right now, Benjamin was lounging on the sofa, fine wine at his side, with a gorgeous woman next to him.

Rena’s cool, striking face and perfect figure fell into Bombsight’s eyes...

That only pissed Bombsight off more.

Bombsight was starting to lose it.

Mister Marathon stood between them, staring blankly from one man to the other.

Honestly, he had no idea what the hell was going on. Wasn’t Bombsight one of Benjamin’s old teammates?

By all rights, they should have been comrades, right?

But this tense, hair-trigger standoff didn’t look anything like old friends meeting again. It looked more like enemies coming face-to-face.

The next second, Bombsight moved.

In an instant, he lunged forward, launching himself through the air at Benjamin. He wrapped both arms tightly around Benjamin’s waist and, using the momentum, slammed him to the floor, sofa and all.

Boom!

A deafening crash tore through the villa, followed immediately by the sharp screech of shattering glass.

The coffee table was knocked aside, sending wineglasses, bottles, and a fruit platter flying. Liquor and shards of glass splattered all over the floor.

The two men rolled and grappled across the floor, knocking over the floor lamp beside them. It hit the wooden floor with a heavy thud, and the bulb shattered.

Then Bombsight slammed hard into the display cabinet full of liquor bottles. The entire cabinet rocked violently, and bottles began tumbling down one after another, exploding across the floor. Whiskey and red wine mixed into a dark pool over the wood, and the thick smell of alcohol filled the room in an instant.

Benjamin soon blocked Bombsight’s falling fist with one hand.

With the other, he grabbed Bombsight by the back of the neck and threw him over with raw force.

Bombsight’s back slammed hard into a chair. The legs snapped with a crack, spraying wood chips everywhere.

But he rushed in again, his fist cutting through the air as it came straight for Benjamin’s face.

In truth, Bombsight wasn’t attacking him because of some deep, bitter grudge, and it wasn’t because some old or new feud had finally boiled over.

The reason was simple. He just couldn’t fucking stand Soldier Boy.

And whenever the two of them met, there was almost a fifty-fifty chance they would end up fighting.

It had been that way from the past to now, again and again, for eighty years.

Mister Marathon stood in the middle of the wreckage, clutching his head with both hands.

He watched, heartbroken, as his beloved furniture was smashed to pieces one item after another; as the fine wine he had treasured for years burst open bottle by bottle on the floor; as the movie posters he was so proud of were stained beyond recognition by splattered alcohol.

"Stop fighting! Jesus, stop it, both of you!"

Mister Marathon shouted in a panic.

Rena took a few steps back and stood in a relatively safe spot, just as shocked.

But she had no intention of stepping in. At least for now, Benjamin wasn’t losing. If anything, he had the upper hand.

Then came another thunderous crash as Benjamin drove a heavy punch into Bombsight’s chest.

Pain hit Bombsight almost instantly. His entire body flew backward, smashing through the partition wall between the living room and the hallway.

In the cloud of dust, Bombsight staggered up from the debris, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and shock flickered in his eyes.

"Ben... you got stronger again..."

Bombsight panted, muttering to himself.

Benjamin stood where he was, straightened his rumpled collar, and worked his jaw.

He looked at Bombsight, the corner of his mouth slowly curving up. "No, you’re just too fucking weak, Robbie. Always have been a piece of shit."

To begin with, Bombsight had always been a little weaker than Benjamin in raw strength.

On top of that, Bombsight could fly. Setting aside his Nuclear Blast ability, his overall strength was roughly on par with Benjamin’s. But Benjamin’s abilities had been strengthened several times by now. Aside from flight, he outclassed Bombsight in every way.

Bombsight’s smile disappeared.

Then he charged in again.

Mister Marathon let out a despairing groan and closed his eyes.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at the rest of his furniture.

Those were his assets, damn it!

...