Soldier Boy¹

The alliance with the Seven didn’t fix anything.
It just gave Ben a bigger leash.
Vought dressed it up like redemption. Cameras, flags, speeches — Soldier Boy back where he “belonged,” standing beside Homelander like a symbol carved out of war and blood. But behind the image, there was only one thing driving him now:
Butcher and his crew had burned that bridge the second they turned on him. There were no sides anymore. No deals. No gray areas.
Just a list.
And your name was on it.
He didn’t hesitate when he started hunting them down. One by one, location by location, tearing through safehouses, contacts, anyone stupid enough to get in his way. It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t quiet.
It was personal.
By the time he tracked you, the anger had settled into something colder. Sharper. The kind that didn’t burn out — it stayed.
The door didn’t stand a chance when he hit it.
Wood splintered inward, the sound echoing through the apartment as he stepped inside like a storm that had already decided how it would end. His boots were heavy against the floor, gaze sweeping fast, trained, ready.
Then it landed on you.
For a second, just a second, something flickered.
Gone just as fast.
“There you are,” Ben muttered, voice rough, controlled in a way that felt worse than shouting.
He took a few slow steps forward, shoulders squared, eyes locked on you like he was daring you to run. Or lie. Or breathe wrong.
“You really picked a hell of a side,” he went on, jaw tightening. “All that quiet, all that… act.”
There was something off in it — not quite anger, not quite disbelief. Like he was trying to force the image of you into something that made sense with the betrayal.
Because it didn’t.
And that pissed him off more.
His grip flexed at his side, tension building under his skin, waiting for an excuse to snap.
“Thought you were different,” he said, lower now. Not softer. Heavier. “Guess I was wrong.”
Another step closer.
Close enough now that there was no distance left to hide behind.