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(Ohio)
It was night. The city was calm and quiet, like any other day.
The residents of Ohio were already in their homes and apartments, sleeping, when a loud explosion rang out, waking many and prompting some curious onlookers to rush to their windows to see what was happening.
Meanwhile, in the center of the city…
A convoy of cars and armed men were fighting against a boy—a super.
Made in a lab, he was strong and fast, a deadly weapon, but he still didn't know the full extent of his powers.
"Get in position," ordered a Vought soldier to his men amidst the chaos of the city.
A group of more than thirty armed men had their weapons raised, aimed at the boy, who was wearing a lab coat, blood staining his clothes.
"What the fuck, you bastards…" thought the boy.
The soldier then took position and spoke to the boy from a distance, behind his car door, weapon trained.
"Kid, stay right there and we won't hurt you," said the battalion captain.
The boy heard him but didn't understand a word; he couldn't comprehend anything the people were saying.
But he understood that they wanted to capture him. They weren't doctors, and they didn't look like heroes or anything like that.
In short, he understood he didn't want to go with these people, and if he were captured, something bad might happen to him.
He didn't want to be dissected like a lab rat.
"Fuck you all… I'm not going down without a fight," thought the boy.
"We're not going to hurt you, we just want you to come with us," the man repeated.
The boy didn't move or show any sign of surrender; instead, he stood there, staring at him amidst the wreckage of cars.
The man glanced at his soldiers and nodded, knowing what was coming—since the boy would not give up.
"Grab him," said the man.
"You're cleared to fire, but stop if there's any sign of serious injury," he added.
"Yes, captain," the soldiers responded.
"Shit… should I run?" thought the boy.
"Screw it, running my ass…" he said, raising his fists.
"Fire!" shouted the captain, waving his hand.
Pow pow pow.
Dozens of bullets cut through the air, flying toward the boy.
"Damn you crazy bastards!" the boy yelled, enraged.
He knew his new body was stronger and more resilient than his old one, but he was still wary of bullets. Unsure if he was immune, he threw himself behind the wreckage of the armored car he had destroyed earlier. Some bullets hit him, causing immense pain, but no wounds—none penetrated his skin.
"Ahh!" groaned the boy, some bullets hitting him.
"We got him, captain," said a soldier.
Meanwhile, V-25 hid behind the armored car, feeling near the door as bullets continued to fly.
"You bastards," said the boy angrily.
Then, in a burst of rage, he stood up and ripped off one of the car doors.
"He must be injured… he can't be that tough," thought the captain.
That's what he thought, but moments later, they saw the boy emerge from behind the car, holding the door—clearly ripped off.
*"Shit…" thought the captain.
"Fire!" the captain shouted.
The boy used the door as a shield and ran toward the soldiers like a damn Captain America.
"Shit!" yelled a soldier, seeing the boy getting closer.
He ran and reached very close to the squad.
"Stay back!" shouted a soldier, seeing him approach.
Using the door as a shield, the boy got close enough to punch a soldier.
"Fuck you!" the boy yelled, striking the man's leg.
The soldier's leg exploded completely—a massive hole where the boy's punch landed—and he fell to the ground, screaming in pain.
Another nearby soldier, terrified, kept firing.
"Oh fuck, what the hell is this?" he screamed.
Bullets flew and hit the boy's chest but didn't penetrate; it was as if they hit a reinforced steel plate, falling harmlessly to the ground.
The boy turned his head and glared at the man who had shot him.
"You piece of shit!" he shouted, swinging the car door like a weapon.
He slammed the door into the man, crushing him like a fruit, breaking bones and killing him instantly.
"Shit… he killed him!" shouted a soldier, terrified.
"Fire, don't stop!" yelled the captain, also half-panicked.
Bullets flew again and again, and the boy defended himself with the armored car door.
Then, in a moment of rage, he ran behind the men's car he had just killed and hid.
Seeing this, the captain even thought maybe a bullet had hit the boy and injured him, which made him feel good for a moment.
But that wasn't the case.
Seconds later, the boy reappeared behind the car, holding another door.
This time, he wasn't defending himself—he threw it.
"Oh shit!" shouted a soldier.
The armored car door flew at high speed, slicing through the air, cutting and breaking everything in its path like a giant blade.
It sliced three men in half and smashed a car.
"Oh fuck… he cut three of them in half… their guts are spilling everywhere!" said a soldier, disgusted.
"Someone call Homelander, damn it!" shouted a terrified soldier.
After the smoke cleared, they saw the boy behind the armored car, holding yet another door.
By now, the captain had lost his composure. He pulled out his phone and called someone high up.
"It's an emergency. We were intercepted and let a package get away. We can't capture it alone. We need help. A super escaped—the V-25—while we were heading to New York."
"What? How did this happen?" asked the person on the other line.
"He's stronger than expected, and we were attacked along the way."
"Alright, I'll report the escape. Don't worry, Vought will be notified ASAP."
The captain informed Vought, and they probably sent a super to retrieve the package.
But he had no time to think about that—he still had to deal with the live threat.
There he was, standing behind the car, holding another damn door. In the boy's hands, anything became a weapon, the captain thought.
"Kid, we can talk… it doesn't have to be like this," shouted the captain from a distance.
But the boy ignored him, throwing yet another door.
He spun his body and threw it with force.
Again, it cut through the air, slicing everything in its path like a giant blade.
This time, he aimed at the cars—his goal was to make sure no one escaped.
Boom!
Another explosion. More deaths. At least five people were killed this time.
"Shoot him! Kill him!" shouted the captain.
Bullets flew at the boy. This time he didn't grab a door. Instead, he hid behind a car, and when the firing stopped, he kicked the car.
"Ahh!" groaned the boy, using too much force.
The car shot forward at high speed, crushing everything in its path.
It was kicked so hard it got stuck in a house across the street.
Clearly, the battle was happening in the middle of the city—buildings and houses all around—and, of course, the noise woke nearby residents.
Many came to windows, recording with their phones.
"Look at this shit," said one man filming.
"My God… what the hell is this? Look at this!" said another.
Many started recording—a battle between soldiers and a boy with superpowers.
The captain was on the ground, dodging the car and hitting the floor at the last second before it ran over him.
Only three men from his battalion remained alive, and he was one of the last.
He coughed, not noticing the state of his foot.
"No… I'm out, this shit isn't worth it," said a soldier, dropping his weapon and running.
"I… I don't want to die," said another, fleeing and leaving the captain behind.
"Don't leave me here, you bastards!" shouted the captain, trying to get up.
He couldn't—he really couldn't.
One of his feet had been ripped off by the car impact, but he didn't feel it due to adrenaline.
Looking down, he saw what had happened.
"No… no… fuck… this isn't happening!" he screamed in evident pain.
In the distance, he saw someone approaching.
"No, stay back! Don't come closer!" he shouted.
V-25 approached slowly, anger on his face, with a hint of pity.
"Please… I'm sorry. It was just business. I'll give you whatever you want, but don't hurt me."
Ignoring the captain's pleas, V-25 came close.
He looked at the man and hesitated for a moment—he felt pity and almost didn't kill him. But then rage and the memory of how this started took over.
In a gesture of mercy, he punched through the man's chest, creating a hole through his torso.
Blood poured, and the man died.
His hand was covered in blood.
"Ugh… disgusting," said the boy, almost vomiting.
He took a deep breath, realizing it was over.
Then he realized he was in the middle of the damn city.
He turned, looking around, seeing people in buildings and houses filming him.
"Shit… this isn't good," the boy said, fear evident on his face.
He started running, leaving the scene as fast as possible.
In the process, he discovered he was much faster than he had ever imagined.
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(Near the location, on top of a building)
"Look at the mess you made, Billy… look at the chaos," said Frenchie.
"Me? I… I didn't do anything. See my hands? Covered in blood?" Billy Butcher asked with a sarcastic smile.
"He's right. You helped release a Vought super and got us into this. We're all screwed," said MM, also known as Mother's Milk.
"Where was your head, Butcher? I know what Homelander did to Becca was terrible, and we're in this together, but you can't just do this without telling us," said Frenchie.
"I should've told you, but you wouldn't have agreed. I didn't know that damn Rambo would be in that armored truck. How could I know the boy would kill everyone?" said Billy Butcher.
"What was your plan, Butcher? Tell me—there had to be a reason for this mess," said MM.
"To be honest… I don't know. It was Grace who told me to do it. She didn't explain why—just said there was a convoy going to New York, and I had to make sure whoever was inside got out," said Billy.
"Grace? She sent you? You're not lying, right?" asked Frenchie.
"Of course not, you idiot," replied Billy.
"What else did she tell you to do? Let the boy escape? We could still go after him," said Frenchie.
"I'm not sure I like that idea," said MM.
"Neither do I," said Billy, agreeing with MM.
"But did you see him? He's just a boy—a poor boy. We have to help him," said Frenchie.
"Our little gang of idiots wasn't made to help the super bastards. The plan isn't to help, Frenchie—it's to kill them all," said Billy.
"I don't agree with that. Maybe not every super is bad. He doesn't seem cruel—just scared," said Frenchie.
MM thought and said:
"Billy, Frenchie's right. The boy doesn't seem evil. But we can't go after him. Vought will definitely go after him. And if Grace told us to go after him, there's more we don't know. Besides, he might have a tracker—Homelander could already be after him," said MM.
"Finally, Mother's Milk said something that makes sense," said Billy.
"But… but…"
"I know, Frenchie. We'll help him another time. Besides, he doesn't need our help," said MM, patting Frenchie on the back.
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