The Boys: Viltrumite Bloodline Panel

Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.

~ Oscar Wilde

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"Alright, alright, stop hanging around here like a dog." Hillel waved his hand with a look of disgust. "Even a dog can provide emotional value. You’re a total piece of trash, go hang out wherever it’s cool, and stop causing trouble for me!"

"Stormfront’s abilities are pretty good, but her waters run too deep for you to handle, kid!"

Hillel shook his head.

Poor Homelander, played right in the palm of Stormfront’s hand.

Still, Soldier Boy needed to be dealt with.

...

New Jersey.

An abandoned industrial area.

Following his bloodline perception and super vision, Hillel didn’t take much effort to find Soldier Boy.

After all, across the entire Earth, Supes with such formidable vitality could almost be counted on one’s fingers.

Soldier Boy was still wearing that hospital gown, and his mental state looked much more stable. At least after Hillel kicked the tempered steel door flying several hundred meters, Soldier Boy only wore a look of astonishment.

He didn’t rush up to zap him right off the bat.

"Hey, pretty boy, can’t find Daddy?"

Hillel looked at Soldier Boy with a wicked smile.

Soldier Boy swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

He already knew that he had been asleep for a very long time and the outside World had undergone Earth-shattering changes, but he hadn’t interacted with humans yet.

The person in front of him was obviously a Supe.

But this expression... Could he be into same-sex preferences...

Seeing the cape behind Hillel, Soldier Boy felt like his underlying code had been triggered.

"Who the fuck are you?" Soldier Boy narrowed his eyes. "Some Joker that ran out of a movie set?"

"Yo-ho, quite a fiery temper! Let me introduce myself, I’m The Guardian, and my duty is to protect my World!" Hillel crossed his arms.

"According to your old-timer way of thinking, I am the most powerful Supe in the current World."

"The Guardian? Fuck you!! You’re still wearing a cape, you dumbass! Did you drape your family’s curtains over yourself?" Soldier Boy sneered.

"Hey, old timer, times have changed, that cape thing is called being stylish!"

"Do you believe that without even lifting a finger, with a single sweep of my cape, you’ll be wearing diapers for half your life and drooling from your mouth when you speak!"

Soldier Boy walked over. "Cut the crap, what do you want?"

"Anyway, it’s not to fuck you. I came today to point a clear path for you."

"Get lost, bub!"

"Tsk tsk, your current outdated virtue can’t support your present attitude. Do you want to return to the front stage? If no one backs you, you can only hang out with steel wool in a strip club."

Hillel walked with his hands behind his back, floating back and forth in the air.

"My demand is very simple. You come work for me, and I’ll send you back to that spot in the spotlight. If you want to find a few older women, you still need money to do that."

To be honest.

Given the veteran’s current looks, he could probably conquer all of Hollywood without spending a dime.

Pure freeloading.

"Work for you? Hahahahaha!"

Soldier Boy couldn’t help laughing out loud.

"You? Seriously bro, when I woke up, things were already super weird. Some guy on the street was shouting Black Lives Matter, and a woman came over asking me if I wanted to spend some money, only for it to have a dick!"

"And you! A Polish guy, saying you are the most powerful Supe in all of America?"

"Fuck, did World War III break out, did the Soviet Union win, and has America gone to shit?"

The veteran instinctively curled his fingers, only to remember that he was dirt poor and couldn’t even afford a pack of cigarettes.

Hillel vanished instantly and returned instantly.

A box of cigars had already appeared in his hand.

"Want some nicotine?"

Hillel picked up a cigar, which looked to be of very good quality.

"Alright." Soldier Boy retracted his huffing posture in a second.

Since you’re handing out cigarettes, what else is there to say, bro!

"But kid, let me tell you the truth, that cape thing is specially prepared for cowards whose pants can’t stay up."

Hillel raised an eyebrow without getting angry.

If Soldier Boy dared to say these words in front of Nolan or Superman, and didn’t drool within three seconds, he, The Guardian, was this (little finger)!

"What if I don’t work for you?"

Soldier Boy took a deep lungful, feeling that this thing was satisfying.

Back when he was an ordinary person, he wouldn’t dare inhale this stuff into his lungs. Now he felt the kick wasn’t that big, just so-so.

"Vought doesn’t have male model shops under its banner, but I can help you open one. An old antique helping people score a couple of hits of oregano, I think there’s a huge market for it." Hillel tossed the box of cigars to Soldier Boy.

Soldier Boy was a bit angry.

To be honest, his morning grouchiness hadn’t dissipated yet.

"Hehe, kid, let me see how much you’re worth."

With the cigar clenched in his mouth, Soldier Boy went up and threw a punch.

Through decades of testing by the Russians, Soldier Boy’s strength had reached the T0 tier, and a single punch could send even a tank flying.

He smashed confidently toward Hillel’s face.

He thought this punch could knock the young man unconscious directly.

Bang!

The fist slammed solidly into Hillel’s face.

Hillel didn’t budge an inch, not even furrowing his eyebrows.

Instead, Soldier Boy himself couldn’t hold it together, a crisp cracking sound coming from his knuckles.

Severe pain instantly spread through his entire body.

No, are you kidding me?

In disbelief, he looked at his own hand.

This... how could this be!

He could punch through a tank, yet this kid’s face was harder than adamantine?

"Tsk tsk tsk!"

Hillel shook his head.

"Is that it? With this little strength, you still want to be a superhero? I think you should just root yourself in a gay bar, in some regions you’re just like a fucking royal sister!"

Soldier Boy clutched his fist with a bewildered expression.

"Gay?" He frowned. "What does that word refer to nowadays?"

Hillel was amused.

"Know what a gay man is? You’re the bottom one."

"Fuck you!"

Soldier Boy raised his other fist again, smashing it toward Hillel once more.

Crack.

Without any suspense, the toe-sucking boy’s other hand was also injured.

Self-damage 1000, enemy damage 0.000001.

Soldier Boy grinned in pain, his face written with absurdity.

Is Vought’s new drug really this powerful?

Could it be that he had fallen behind the times!

A punk standing still letting him hit him could actually reflect the damage back onto him.

"Don’t waste your effort, save some energy. Even if those two hands of yours smash for a hundred years, you won’t hurt a single hair." Hillel shook his head.

"Still, look at me!"

He raised his hand and held up a single finger.

Invincible... brain flick!

Bang!

The next second.

Soldier Boy flew out like a cannonball.

He tumbled in mid-air, crashing through several walls of the factory building, smashed onto the ground, rolled a few times consecutively, and was stopped by a steel beam.

Just like that, he flew a full hundred meters or so.

"Cough... cough cough..."

Soldier Boy spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, his head buzzing, and the scene in front of him was doubling into double images.

It seemed he had been flicked into a concussion.

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