New York City, USA.
Benjamin stood on the roof of an old apartnt building in Midtown Manhattan, holding a smartphone he had only recently activated. On the screen, Vought International’s latest stock price scrolled by.
He slipped the phone into his jacket pocket, turned, and headed downstairs.
One week ago, he had still been at an abandoned military base near the Russian border.
Now, after ditching the Russian military overcoat, he wore a brownish-green leather jacket he had picked up from a thrift store. With his beard and hair trimd, he walked along Seventh Avenue in Brooklyn and drew an absurd number of looks.
To be fair, this face really was handso. After all, the Queen of England had once ridden it...
Benjamin passed the glass window of a convenience store and glanced at his reflection.
He was broad and powerful, with hard, striking features. His face carried all the maturity and sharpness a man in his thirties or early forties should have.
The shabby, holess look was gone completely. The way he looked now, no one would question it if he said he was a washed-up Hollywood action star.
He stopped and looked up at a massive electronic billboard across the street.
The billboard was advertising so of Translucent’s activities as a mber of The Seven.
Benjamin stared at it for five seconds, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
Translucent was still alive.
Now that was interesting...
He kept walking, crossed two blocks, sat down at an outdoor table at a café, ordered a black coffee, and began sorting out the current tiline.
A TV in a shop window by the street was playing Vought News Network’s midday program.
The host was gushing about a bank robbery that had been stopped by superheroes.
This was the beginning of Season One.
Queen Maeve was still serving as The Seven’s feminist poster girl, The Deep was still amusing himself with dolphins at the aquarium, and Holander still looked every inch the righteous hero.
And Starlight, Annie January, that innocent blonde girl, had not officially joined The Seven yet.
Which ant Hughie Campbell’s girlfriend, Robin, was most likely still alive.
Benjamin finished the last of his coffee, set the cup down on the table, and used his phone’s GPS to locate an electronics store.
After all, the Benjamin of now was no longer the Benjamin from before. Unlike that hundred-year-old man, he was not clueless about modern devices.
He spent three days scouting the place.
By then, he had a clear grasp of the store’s location, along with the tall, skinny clerk nad Hughie, who wore glasses and always had a gentle smile on his face.
Benjamin had even gone inside on purpose to buy a phone charger, just so he could observe this future core mber of "The Boys" up close.
Hughie really was a good person.
So good that it made you not want to see him go through any kind of tragedy.
That was Benjamin’s private assessnt.
...
At eight o’clock the next morning, Benjamin arrived right on ti across the street from the electronics store in Brooklyn.
He was carrying a large tal bucket he had bought from a hardware store.
Inside were three full gallons of industrial-grade lubricant. It was extrely thick, had excellent adhesion, and could form an oil film on asphalt even slicker than ice.
He found a fire hydrant diagonally opposite the store and sat down, placing the bucket by his feet.
Through the store’s floor-to-ceiling windows, he could clearly see Hughie helping a female custor inside.
Hughie was wearing a navy work uniform and holding the latest tablet, showing the girl so of its features.
His body language was full of enthusiasm as he spoke. Every now and then, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and when he smiled, there was not a trace of aggression in it.
Benjamin watched the scene with a blank expression and unscrewed the lid of the tal bucket.
"Right at the start of episode one," he thought.
It had taken him a full week to make his way from Russia back to the United States. He had no super speed and no ability to fly.
His speed was no different from an ordinary person’s.
But that was the part he was least worried about.
Educating Holander would have to be put on the agenda sooner or later.
By then, he might be able to gain super speed and flight.
Once that happened, combined with the abilities he already had, he would have no weaknesses at all.
The shop door opened.
Hughie and Robin ca out hand in hand, chatting as they walked.
Hughie laughed as he talked, while Robin poked him in the side with her finger, teasing him for getting too into it.
They stood at the entrance for a mont, then slowly walked along the sidewalk.
A yellow taxi was parked by the curb outside the store, with an A-Train poster on its roof.
Benjamin picked up the tal bucket, stood, and followed behind them.
Soon, Hughie and Robin stopped at an intersection.
Robin stood at the edge of the curb. Half a step behind her was the street, where traffic rushed past.
Hughie stood in front of her, gesturing with both hands as he talked, making Robin giggle.
Benjamin stopped about a hundred ters from Robin.
He bent down and tilted the tal bucket. Thick lubricant poured from the rim and spread across the roadside.
He took a discarded long-handled brush from his pocket, one he had picked up beside a trash can, and spread the oil film evenly, making sure it covered enough ground.
This was A-Train’s inevitable path.
He was too fast, so fast that an ordinary person could barely catch his movent with the naked eye.
The instant he hit Robin, her flesh and blood would burst into a mist.
At A-Train’s speed, even if Benjamin treated it like an old man taking a stroll, intercepting him was not realistic.
Benjamin could have used his own body to block him in advance, but he did not need to.
He also had no intention of letting A-Train crash into him and getting himself covered in blood.
True, with Benjamin’s physical toughness, if A-Train slamd into him, A-Train might not die, but he would at least lose half his life. If his body was just a little less durable, A-Train might even be the one smashed into chunks of at.
Of course, if Robin still ended up dead even after this, Benjamin would have nothing to say. He had done his best, hadn’t he?
"Bzzzz."
A low vibration ca from the end of the street.
A-Train was here.
Then his right foot stepped onto the strip of oil.
The next instant, A-Train’s body shot out like a derailed cannonball, slamd hard into the road, and skidded almost twenty ters before finally stopping by the curb.
"FUCK!!"
A-Train curled up on the ground.
Both hands clutched his right knee tightly. The leg armor of his suit had cracked open, and blood could be seen faintly seeping through from underneath.
His face was sared with lubricant and gri from the street, his expression twisted in agony as curses kept spilling from his mouth.
He jerked his head up, bloodshot eyes locking onto Benjamin, who was holding the oil bucket.
Benjamin shrugged and tossed the empty tal bucket casually to the side of the road.
Then he took a few steps toward A-Train and looked down at this superhero of The Seven.
"Hey, you dumbass in a hurry to get reincarnated," Benjamin shouted. "If I hadn’t made you fall, you would’ve smashed that woman to pieces. Are you not gonna get the fuck up and thank ?"
Hughie and Robin both turned around at the deafening crash.
Robin’s face instantly went white.
She saw A-Train on the ground. She saw the oil strip stretching across the road. Then, following the footprints left in the oil backward, her gaze finally landed on the curb beneath her own feet.
She instinctively took two steps back and nearly fell, but Hughie caught her at once.
Hughie’s hands were shaking.
He looked at A-Train on the ground, then at the strip of oil, then at the spot where he had just been standing.
If A-Train had not slipped, then judging by his trajectory, his next step would have sent him crashing straight into Robin.
With A-Train’s speed and physical strength, Robin absolutely would have been killed.
Exactly like that older man had said.
Hughie held Robin tightly in his arms, terrified.
Benjamin glanced at him, pulled out his phone, and snapped a photo of A-Train lying on the ground.
"Bitch."
A-Train cursed at him.
But he knew he was in the wrong.
Aside from throwing that insult at Benjamin, he did nothing else. He got to his feet and prepared to leave.
"What did you say?"
Benjamin turned his head, raised his fist, and punched A-Train in the head as he lay there.
A burst of sharp pain shot through A-Train’s skull.
That punch left A-Train stunned, and blood started running from his nose. He was a Supe, for God’s sake.
A-Train was shocked and furious.
"These punches are to teach you a lesson for being stupid."
Benjamin swung his fist again, hamring A-Train’s head several more tis until A-Train collapsed to the ground, nearly unconscious.
It had to be said, although A-Train would find his redemption in Season Five, the A-Train standing here now was a complete and utter bastard.
He deserved the beating.
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