Transmigrated into The Boys, Starting as Soldier Boy

The instant Mallory heard that, visible shock crossed her face.

Neuman was a Supe?

The congresswoman who had spoken so passionately at the congressional hearing, the ally who had once stood beside her against Homelander.

That young woman who had looked like nothing more than a sharp politician.

She was not only a Supe, but also Edgar’s mole in Congress?

In that instant, Mallory finally understood.

No wonder. No wonder Neuman’s political career had gone so smoothly, with every rival somehow cleared out of her way.

No wonder her marriage to Sameer had been so seamless. A top Vought biologist and a member of Congress, and the connection between them had been hidden perfectly.

Sameer was talented, yes, but in the beginning, he had not been one of Vought’s people.

Maybe it was because of Neuman that Sameer had risen so quickly into Vought’s top research ranks.

In fact, it was only recently, through a few tiny, almost invisible clues, that Mallory had discovered Sameer and Neuman had once been married.

Before Sameer was fired by Vought, his personal information had been locked down tight.

Only after he fell from power did cracks appear in those once airtight layers of secrecy, exposing the faintest traces.

Without those cracks, she might still have no idea the two of them were connected.

At that moment, everything clicked into place.

From the very beginning, Neuman had been Vought’s person, a pawn Edgar had personally planted in Congress.

After Edgar died, Neuman had tried to break free of Vought’s control. She had even wanted to turn on Vought and take revenge for Edgar.

Then Soldier Boy showed up. After whatever the hell he did, he dragged her right back into Vought’s camp.

Neuman had become Vought’s person again. Only this time, her loyalty had shifted from Edgar to Soldier Boy.

A cold flame of anger lit in Mallory’s eyes.

She gritted her teeth, her voice sharp with rage. "What a goddamn spineless little traitor. A fence-sitter who only ever leans toward whoever’s stronger."

Her fists clenched at her sides. Then she fixed her eyes on Sameer and asked a question she had never thought she would need to ask.

"So Neuman’s old rivals, the politicians who blocked her path to power. Where the hell did they all go?"

In the early days, Neuman’s rise had been too fast. Far too fast for a normal political newcomer.

Every time an important position opened up, her rivals would drop out of the race one way or another.

Some were buried in scandals. Some withdrew because of illness. Some suffered sudden, unexpected accidents.

Mallory had once chalked it all up to luck, or to Neuman having a brilliant campaign team behind her.

But now it looked like that "brilliant campaign team" might never have existed at all.

There had only been Neuman.

And Neuman’s power might be terrifying.

Sameer looked into Mallory’s rage-filled eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched, forming a bitter smile.

He spoke quietly. "Neuman killed them all. Everyone who stood in her way, every rival who competed with her. Not a single exception.

All she had to do was look at them, and then bang. That was it. The so-called Head-Popper was never some serial killer, and it wasn’t a terrorist. It was Neuman. It was always her.

She’s the one who killed everyone in her way."

"Well, that is one hell of a piece of dirt."

Off to the side, Adana, the president of the Church of the Collective, leaned against the wall with his arms folded, the hint of a smile on his lips.

His deep eyes swept over Sameer twice.

Sameer snapped his head around, his gaze stabbing straight at Adana.

Of course he knew who Adana was. The president of the Church of the Collective.

And now this man had heard Neuman’s secret with his own ears. He had heard that her hands were soaked in blood. He had heard that she was Edgar’s mole in Congress.

"You’re the head of that cult? You can’t expose this."

When Sameer said it, the emotions inside him were far more complicated than he let show.

Did he hate Neuman?

Maybe a little.

In just a few short days, this woman had coldly ended their ten-year marriage, ripped him out of her life by the roots, and refused to give him even a half-decent explanation.

Any man in that position should hate her.

But hate and love sometimes live in the same room, and it is hard to pull them apart.

He still loved Neuman.

He could not stand the thought of seeing her hurt.

Even if she might now be walking in and out of luxury hotels on another man’s arm.

And deep down, there was still a thought struggling inside him, one that was almost self-deception.

What if none of this was really Neuman’s choice?

What if Soldier Boy forced her?

That man was the most powerful Supe in the world. If he wanted to threaten someone, who could fight back?

Maybe Neuman had no other choice. Maybe that sweet smile in the surveillance photos was all an act.

Maybe she had not fallen for Soldier Boy.

Maybe she was just...

"Don’t worry."

Adana’s voice cut through the storm of thoughts in Sameer’s head.

The president of the Church of the Collective gave a soft laugh. There was a kind of veteran’s indulgence toward a junior in it, mixed with a trace of mockery for such naive thinking.

He straightened, unfolded his arms, and spoke in a tone almost like he was giving a lecture.

"Dirt isn’t a weapon. It’s a trump card.

Those are two different things, Mr. Sameer. I hope you understand the difference."

He paced forward two steps, his leather shoes tapping calmly against the concrete floor.

"A weapon is meant to be used. Once you fire it, it’s gone. Once the bullets run out, you have to reload. But a trump card is different.

A trump card is meant to threaten. To make the other side think twice. It’s the card you keep face down on the table and don’t flip over.

In fact, that’s exactly why Vought has always been wary of us.

They know we have something, but they don’t know how much we have, where we’re hiding it, or when we’ll pull it out.

So they don’t dare come at us directly. They can only send people sniffing around in secret, chasing our trail piece by piece like The Deep."

In truth, Benjamin simply had not paid much attention to it, and The Deep was not exactly reliable.

Of course, while Benjamin did not care about the dirt, the other heroes did.

On that point, Adana was right.

...

Adana stopped, turned back to Sameer, and kept that faint smile fixed on his face.

"Once we play all our trump cards, once all the dirt we’re holding gets made public, Vought won’t keep sneaking around after us the way they are now.

They’ll send Homelander. They’ll send Soldier Boy. They’ll erase us from the face of the earth in the simplest, ugliest way possible.

By then, it won’t matter how public opinion blows up, because we’ll already be dead, and the living always find a way to clean themselves up."

He paused, then raised a hand and patted Sameer on the shoulder.

"So a trump card has to act like a trump card.

It won’t be released right away. Neuman’s secret, everything you just told us with your own mouth, will be kept safe in the deepest layer of our archives until the day we truly need it.

Or until the day we never need it at all. Satisfied?"

Sameer’s shoulders loosened slightly under Adana’s hand.

He let out a long breath.

But the worry in his eyes had not completely faded.

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