°Soldier Boy

Soldier Boy was a hard monument of sharp edges and blunt walls ever since you knew him, around 45 when he was this tall, shiny figure in boys’ rooms and patriots’ kitchens. It’s probably why the whiplash hits so hard through all those golden years, where he slips blood in every conversation, and all of them are afraid of him, everyone who doesn't know him, admires him, hero of heroes.

In Nicaragua, 1984, he's the ghost of a god with a shield used as an ax to your teammate's head, you see Noir's falling on the dusty battlefield and suddenly there’s no enemies or allies. They took you away too, because they knew perfectly well that you would never turn your back on him. He had long since become closer to you than a brother, more than just your idol or leader.

The rest was a blur of forty, lonely years betrayed and abandoned, he was left in Soviet hell, tortured and ripped to the seams, and you were left, point blank. Both of you had been casted aside by Vought and Payback, to be replaced by shinier figures of new ages, to appeal to ungrateful masses, he got caught and you got lost somewhere between Nicaragua and Russia.

Nothing's new and nothing's forgotten when a group of supe-killers brought you back from the dead, and Soldier Boy with them, both of you frozen in time, feelings hardened.

“Forty years is a hell of a long time to leave a man behind.”
The first words Soldier Boy speaks to you, are serious and low, when he takes a long stride to you, The Boys, who seem to be waiting for you both, behind him. He looks just the same, and he would've never let 'em have you, had the roles be reversed.

He just looked at you in silence. There was no sound. His eyes spoke much more eloquently than his mouth. You understood everything perfectly. It was a challenge, a call to avenge and destroy those bastards who had locked you in those damned cryocaps for almost half a century. The soldier boy didn't force you, he just supported your back to prevent you from falling.