Transmigrated into The Boys, Starting as Soldier Boy

The conversation that followed did not last long. Benjamin was not the type to waste words.

After those punches knocked her fully back to her senses, Cindy showed the same clear-headed logic she had in the original series.

She still spouted nonsense every now and then, but when it came to the important questions, her answers were fairly coherent.

Benjamin gave her two choices. First, have her Superpowers erased, return to society as an ordinary person, and cut all ties with Vought from then on.

Second, join Vought, become a superhero, and use her abilities in exchange for freedom, decent status, and a respectable life.

Faced with the menace in Benjamin’s eyes, Cindy chose the second option with almost no hesitation.

And with that, Sage Grove Center’s last test subject was dealt with.

When Benjamin walked out through the gates of Sage Grove Center, Lamplighter followed behind him, his expression both relieved and complicated.

Still, when he looked at Cindy beside them, his eyes were full of caution.

As for the test subjects who had once been locked up here, the ones too difficult to control had their abilities erased and were released. Those willing to cooperate were added to an intake list, waiting for Vought’s next arrangements.

Sage Grove Center, a place that had carried countless dark secrets from the old Vought, officially became history today.

The iron gates stood wide open. The corridors were empty.

Staff would be sent in to handle the cleanup, followed by demolition and whatever else came next.

...

"Sir, the ones we released..."

Lamplighter hesitated for a moment, then asked, "You sure they won’t cause trouble?"

Benjamin said, "If there’s a fucking problem, Edgar can crawl out of his grave and explain it himself."

...

When Benjamin returned to Vought Headquarters with Cindy and Lamplighter, several executives on the administrative floor were shocked.

A former member of The Seven was one thing, but a mental patient who had just been released from Sage Grove Center? She could join the Second-Tier Supes too?

But no one dared object, because Soldier Boy had personally brought them back.

Then again, with her mental condition, maybe she could win support from people with psychiatric disabilities...

Quite a few senior executives comforted themselves with that thought.

...

The personnel arrangements were finalized quickly.

Lamplighter was officially assigned to the Second-Tier Supes as an Elemental-type. From now on, he would no longer be involved in anything related to the other experiments.

The same went for Cindy. She was assigned to Blindspot’s First Team as a combat type.

In fact, if Kimiko’s younger brother had been willing to join Vought, he and Cindy might even have ended up on the same team. Their abilities seemed pretty similar, after all, both related to psychokinesis.

But Kimiko’s younger brother was still screaming about killing Vought.

Maybe they should just use Kimiko’s younger brother to control Kimiko.

For Lamplighter, being assigned to the Second-Tier Supes was not exactly an insult.

He may have once been a member of The Seven, but everyone knew his physical capabilities were only a little stronger than an ordinary person’s.

Maybe he could take a regular handgun round and run at the speed of a professional athlete, but that was about it.

His lighter and the torch he wielded were his real weapons. Sure, his damage output was high, but he was ultimately too fragile. Right now, there was not a single member of The Seven with weak physical durability. Homelander, Maeve, and Stormfront went without saying. Then there was Black Noir II, who could tank a Gatling gun head-on, The Deep, whose physique was about on par with Black Noir II’s, and Starlight, who was tough as hell...

Moving down to the second line gave Lamplighter both dignity and protection.

Besides, the Second-Tier Supes were receiving unprecedented attention and development.

All kinds of second- and third-tier teams were appearing in public more frequently, handling city patrols, disaster relief, and community service. All the jobs top-tier heroes could not be bothered to do were being taken over by the second-tier teams, which unexpectedly earned them a lot of goodwill from the public.

Lamplighter joined at exactly the right time. With his precise control over fire, it would not be long before he became a core member of a second-tier team.

As for Cindy, her position was a little more delicate.

A mentally ill person becoming a superhero was sketchy no matter how you looked at it, and the PR department was miserable over it.

But Benjamin did not give a damn what the PR department thought.

Fortunately, the company personally evaluated Cindy. Although the bald woman did have a mental illness, it was controllable, and her logical thinking was stronger than that of most normal people.

More importantly, she could actually understand what people said, tell enemies from allies, and knew when to act and when to stop. That was enough.

Benjamin had already experienced the strength of her telekinesis firsthand in that small room at Sage Grove Center.

That power, strong enough to twist steel into a pretzel, posed no threat to him at all.

But in a street fight or against ordinary Supe criminals, it was basically a one-sided stomp.

That meant Cindy’s overall strength could easily place her among the top ranks of the Second-Tier Supes, maybe even above The Deep.

Having her take down criminals and deal with ordinary Supe offenders was more than enough.

Of course, to prevent an actual psychotic episode, Cindy had to undergo a psychiatric evaluation once a week. If she failed, she would be suspended immediately and sent for treatment.

Cindy had no objection to this. In fact, she was extremely cooperative. After taking those punches from Benjamin, she had become very obedient.

With that, the Sage Grove Center incident came to an end.

...

That afternoon, Black Noir II officially joined The Seven.

Since Black Noir was still alive as far as the public knew, the news was not announced. Every handover and onboarding procedure was handled quietly in a sealed room high inside the Vought Headquarters building.

Benjamin summoned the young man in the black uniform directly to his windowless private office.

Black Noir II stood in front of Benjamin, back straight, both hands pressed against his black armor.

Benjamin leaned back in his chair and looked him up and down for a few seconds, then spoke with open impatience.

"All right, talk. I fucking know you can."

Black Noir II froze for a second, then quickly said, "Mr. Soldier Boy, you have no idea."

He spoke fast. Very fast.

"They haven’t let me talk since the selection process started! They kept saying Black Noir is a silent ninja and has to keep up the mysterious persona. Sir, do you know how painful it is to not let someone talk? I’ve been losing my damn mind holding it in! Every day when I get back to the dorm, I talk to myself in the mirror so much that my neighbors think I’m hiding someone in my room! Sir, you’re a good man. Seriously, you’re the first person who’s let me speak at work, I..."

As a student from Godolkin University, he had already admired Benjamin a great deal.

Now he admired him even more, and once he started talking, he would not stop.

"Enough."

Benjamin raised a hand and cut him off.

"Don’t fucking overdo it."

"Yes, sir! Understood, sir!"

Black Noir II shut his mouth almost instantly.

Soon, Benjamin gave Black Noir II his assignment.

The Deep was still investigating the Church of the Collective.

Originally, The Deep and A-Train had been in charge of the mission together, but now that A-Train had developed heart problems and been kicked out of The Seven, someone capable had to step in and help with the investigation.

Black Noir II was definitely capable enough, even if he was a little unreliable.

Still, Benjamin considered that Black Noir had only just joined the company and still had a pile of onboarding procedures, training arrangements, and identity handoffs to deal with, so he gave him some breathing room.

He told Black Noir he could finish all that miscellaneous crap first, then go meet up with The Deep.

Who knew if The Deep had started slacking off by now. There had not been any new intel in a long time.

Black Noir II agreed without hesitation.

He gave Benjamin a deep bow, then walked out of the office with a spring in his step.

Once he was outside, Black Noir II immediately went back to his cold, silent act.

A few days passed in the blink of an eye.

During the day, Benjamin had Rena carry him around while they wandered and enjoyed themselves...

Or at night, he would discipline the utterly rotten Starlight, Stormfront, or Neuman.

Benjamin also occasionally made time to go out for a meal with Homelander.

Honestly, Homelander was already getting a little pissed off at Starlight and Stormfront. If not for them, maybe he would have had more time with Benjamin.

...

Vought Secret Community.

This was where Becca and Ryan were staying.

Not far from the Secret Community, inside an ordinary guesthouse, three men were crammed into one tiny room.

The room was lit by a single dim yellow desk lamp. The curtains were drawn tight, not letting even a sliver of light leak out.

The ashtray was packed with cigarette butts, and the air felt stale and oppressive.

Butcher sat in a chair by the window, holding a can of beer that had already gone warm. His eyes were fixed through a gap in the curtains on the small lit building outside, his gaze dark and heavy.

"Butcher," Mother’s Milk said from where he leaned against the corner, his lowered voice unable to hide his frustration. "When the hell are we making a move? We’ve been here for days, watching that damn building every day, watching Homelander come and go, and we’re just doing nothing?"

Butcher did not turn around. His eyes stayed locked on that lit window.

After a long silence, he finally shook his head. His voice was rough and low.

"Not right now."

He lifted the beer can and took a swig. The cold liquid slid down his throat, but it did nothing to put out the fire in his chest.

"Homelander’s been coming back here a lot lately. Sometimes twice a day, sometimes for the whole damn night. We don’t know when he’s here or when he leaves. There’s no pattern. If we go after Becca and Ryan right under his nose, how many seconds do you think all of us put together would last?"

Mother’s Milk opened his mouth, then said nothing.

He knew Butcher was right.

Every one of them understood Homelander’s strength. A head-on fight with him would be suicide.

"Then how long are we supposed to wait?" Frenchie asked from the opposite corner.

He was crouched on the floor, wiping down a precision instrument. The desk lamp reflected in his blue eyes, and his tone was much calmer than Mother’s Milk’s.

Butcher turned around to face the two of them.

"There are Supervillains all over the goddamn world right now. You really think that bastard Homelander is gonna sit at home and play dad? Don’t be stupid."

He crushed the empty beer can in his hand and shouted angrily, "We wait for the day Homelander has to fly to the other side of the planet to clean up some other country’s Supervillains. That’s when we move."

Butcher was not stupid. If they were going to make a move, they had to pick a time when Homelander was busy.

...

Dinner was halfway through at the Neuman family dining table.

It was a detached villa in an upscale residential area of New York, tastefully decorated without being too flashy.

The off-white walls matched the dark walnut floors.

Warm yellow light poured down from recessed ceiling lamps, wrapping the entire dining room in a cozy glow.

There were two place settings on the table, along with a plate of grilled salmon with asparagus, a glass of white wine, and a glass of orange juice.

Neuman wore a beige house sweater, her hair casually pinned up behind her head, and was lifting a piece of fish to her mouth with her fork.

Across from her sat her daughter, Zoe, a little girl who had inherited her mother’s delicate features. She held the glass of orange juice in both hands.

She took small sips, glancing at her mother from time to time as if she was hesitating over whether to say something.

This night was just like every night before they moved. Quiet and orderly.

Mother and daughter had only each other.

Ever since divorcing Sameer, Neuman had brought Zoe here. It was still New York, but it was a fair distance from where they had lived before.

She had done this to show Soldier Boy that she was starting over.

It was also meant to reassure Soldier Boy. After all, she had been willing to move, willing to be Soldier Boy’s canary, willing to cut herself off completely from her past.

Soon, there was a knock at the door.

Neuman’s fork stopped in midair.

Her brows furrowed slightly, and her eyes sharpened in an instant. It was the instinct she had developed after years of fighting her way through politics.

At this hour, no one had an appointment to visit.

And that man had not said he was coming to see her.

She did not get up right away. Instead, she tilted her head slightly and listened.

The knock came again, a little more urgent this time.

"Mom?" Zoe set down her orange juice and looked at her mother in confusion.

"Stay here. Don’t move."

Neuman set down her fork, wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin, stood, stretched slightly, and turned toward the door.

Her movements were calm and unhurried, but every step toward the door carried a subtle edge of caution.

Her hand paused on the doorknob for one second before she turned it.

The door opened.

A man stood outside.

He wore a wrinkled dark blue jacket over a gray T-shirt with a stretched-out collar. His chin was covered in several days’ worth of bluish-gray stubble, his eye sockets were sunken, and his cheekbones jutted sharply.

He looked as if something had hollowed him out from the inside, so haggard he was almost unrecognizable.

But of course Neuman recognized him.

Sameer.

Her ex-husband.

They stared at each other across the threshold, less than a meter apart, yet it felt as if an uncrossable gulf lay between them.

The cold night wind swept in from outside, stirring a few loose strands of hair at Neuman’s temples.

She instinctively pulled her sweater a little tighter around herself. Not because the wind was that cold, but because this sudden meeting made her need a second to steady her breathing.

"Why are you here?"

Neuman folded her arms across her chest.

Her voice was icy, but if you listened closely, there was the faintest tremor hidden beneath that cold, hard surface.

At the sight of Sameer, a dull pain spread through her chest, but her expression did not soften at all.

***

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