Transmigrated into The Boys, Starting as Soldier Boy

A Supervillain with an extremely high power level had suddenly appeared along the border of a small African country.

The reports coming in through intelligence channels were urgent and grim. The target’s destructive capability had been assessed as extremely high.

The local government forces had collapsed across the board. At least three towns had been destroyed, and the casualty count was climbing by the hour.

Based on the available data, the target’s power level required the personal intervention of a Supe at least on the level of Soldier Boy or Homelander to guarantee suppression.

"Sir, please be careful."

Neuman stood in Benjamin’s private office, with New York’s glittering nightscape outside the window.

Her brow was faintly furrowed, and concern edged her voice.

"This might not be a coincidence. Certain organizations, certain factions here at home, now that they know I’m about to win the vice presidency, they’ve got every reason to pull something like this."

"Luring you away to somewhere far from home. This could be a plot aimed at you. Plenty of them probably know I’m yours."

Benjamin looked up after hearing Neuman’s words, the corner of his mouth lifting into a careless smile.

"A conspiracy? Then I’d damn well like to see what kind of conspiracy it is."

Benjamin didn’t waste energy second-guessing himself.

Besides.

Without something like this, where was he supposed to find a good excuse to deal with those rats hiding in the dark?

Before long, he left.

Late that night, the private jet lifted off from the helipad on the top floor of Vought headquarters and cut through the clouds toward the African continent.

Just as Benjamin’s private jet was about to reach the airspace above the target area, the unexpected, or rather, the thing he had been waiting for all along, finally arrived.

It wasn’t a Supervillain. What attacked Benjamin was a nuclear bomb.

The nuclear bomb came screaming in from beyond the atmosphere. Its trajectory had been calculated with precision, and its point of impact was accurate down to the meter, landing directly on his descent path.

A mushroom cloud rose over the African wilderness. The Shockwave shredded trees and rocks within several kilometers like scraps of paper and hurled them into the air, while the intense heat burned the ground into a sheet of molten, glassy scorched earth.

Before the smoke and radioactive dust had even cleared, blazing white trails tore through the atmosphere again.

The second. The third. The fourth.

The nuclear bombs fell one after another, packed so densely it looked like a missile barrage with him as its only target.

Every single one slammed into him with pinpoint accuracy, and every single one released enough terrifying energy to wipe out a mid-sized city.

The roar of the Shockwaves stacked over and over across the wasteland. The earth kept shaking. In the distance, the mountain ranges suffered massive landslides under the repeated strikes, and the entire landscape was reshaped in just a few minutes.

...

The smoke and dust finally settled.

Where Benjamin had been standing, the ground no longer existed. In its place was a massive crater several hundred meters across.

The air was thick with radioactive dust, dense enough to kill any ordinary unprotected person on the spot.

And Benjamin stood right at the center of that crater, arms crossed over his chest. His dark green Supersuit was completely intact, without so much as a scorch mark.

Not a single strand of his hair had been singed. There wasn’t even a scratch on his face. It was as if what had just hit him hadn’t been a dozen nuclear bombs, but a heavy rainstorm.

"That’s it?"

Benjamin’s voice carried undisguised disappointment.

He had honestly thought some other Supes were going to gang up on him.

Then Benjamin got ready to head back. He wasn’t an idiot. By the time the second nuclear bomb fell, he had already confirmed there was no Supervillain here. The intelligence was fake. This was a carefully laid trap.

Certain factions in the United States, before Neuman could fully seize control of the country’s center of power, had chosen the most extreme method possible, trying to wipe him off the board.

Unfortunately, they had clearly underestimated Benjamin’s strength.

A new private jet was soon sent to pick Benjamin up.

By the time Benjamin’s new private jet landed back on the helipad atop Vought headquarters, Neuman had already been waiting beside the pad for four full hours.

The moment she saw Benjamin step out of the cabin, her expression finally eased.

Neuman rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Benjamin.

"Sir, welcome back."

Those people didn’t want her to become president...

They didn’t just not want her to become president. They wanted to kill her man.

And they had used over a dozen nuclear bombs.

The power behind this, a force capable of mobilizing the nuclear arsenal and fabricating S-level threat intelligence, was not something any ordinary political opponent or corporate conglomerate could pull off.

Behind it had to be certain high-ranking military officials, or more likely, the current president himself.

And they had already lost. Now it was their turn to pay the price.

Neuman did not make the incident public.

But over the next few weeks, with shocking speed and ruthlessness, Neuman eliminated every one of her campaign opponents, along with the high-ranking military and intelligence officials she had confirmed through Vought’s intelligence network to be connected to the nuclear attack.

She did not blow up too many heads. At the very least, she left behind no evidence that could be traced back to her.

Some opponents were hit overnight with scandals severe enough to end their political careers. Some were suddenly betrayed by their own party before crucial votes. Some were simply found one morning with resignation letters already written, their signatures shaky, and then disappeared from public view completely...

No evidence pointed to Neuman, but plenty of people knew damn well who had done it.

When Mallory received the news, she was in a safe house with Adana, going over the next step of their operation.

After reading the intelligence, she stayed silent for a full ten seconds. Then she turned her head and looked at Sameer, who was sitting in the corner mixing a solution.

"How much longer until the virus is ready?"

For the first time, a trace of impatience, something she had never shown before, entered her voice.

Sameer looked up. A flicker of unease passed through his bloodshot eyes, strained from staring into a microscope for too long, but there was more than that. There was also the kind of focus that only erupted when someone had been backed into a corner.

"Soon," he said, his voice hoarse.

"But the strains targeting Soldier Boy and Homelander, I need more time..."

"Then hurry."

Mallory cut him off. Then her gaze fell back to the brief entry in the intelligence report that read [Nuclear Attack. Zero Damage]. The wrinkles at the corners of her mouth looked especially deep in that moment.

"They’re speeding up. So do we."