The Boys: Viltrumite Bloodline Panel

He is afraid the shame will outlive him.

~ Franz Kafka

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"What is considered a real man?"

"A real man does whatever he wants, and no one dares to force him."

"I don’t like drinking, so I don’t have to follow any damn drinking culture!"

"For another example, if I wanted to shove this can of cola down your throat right now, you wouldn’t even be able to let out a peep."

"Of course, aiming at Getsuga Tensho doesn’t count!"

Hillel emphasized once more.

What he meant by doing whatever he wanted was not being coerced by others.

If those words had come out of anyone else’s mouth, Soldier Boy would have already thrown a punch.

Yet facing Hillel, he uncharacteristically didn’t refute it.

If you don’t want to drink, don’t drink; if you don’t want to smoke, don’t smoke! WOW! What a damn simple logic!

He was actually left speechless.

At this moment, Annie and Maeve on the couch stood up.

"Babe, we’re heading out for a bit. We haven’t gotten any action lately, so the two of us are going to take a stroll in Brooklyn!"

"Be careful on the way." Hillel waved his hand.

The two girls walked out the door.

Soldier Boy watched their departing backs and gave a rare nod of approval.

"Kid, you found two good women. Although they’re pretty, they actually consider your feelings."

"From a logical perspective, marrying an ugly woman brings very few troubles, but someone like you is an exception!"

"You deserve better!"

Hillel’s expression was somewhat odd.

From a Logical Perspective, wasn’t that a song by Soldier Boy from the last century?

These lyrics couldn’t have been written by Soldier Boy himself, could they!

"I’ve actually heard two of your songs. These are the lyrics to From a Logical Perspective, right? You really never forget to praise yourself anytime, anywhere," Hillel said.

"Tell me, running over to my place in the middle of the night and delaying me from discussing a multi-hundred-million-dollar big business with my girls, what on earth is it for?"

Soldier Boy sat down opposite him, swiped a bottle of whiskey from the wine cabinet, and unscrewed the cork.

"Can’t I look for you just to chat for no reason? That blond... Homelander is the Captain of The Seven, but I can tell that you’re the one truly running things!"

"I can’t look up old friends to reminisce either, otherwise I can’t help but blast open chests, so I might as well chat with you instead."

Hillel savored the thought. "Tsk tsk, you father and son both like to torture me. I’ll have to charge some psychological counseling fees tomorrow."

Soldier Boy shook his head. "Forget it, with that filthy mouth of yours, even a Christian would be talked into committing suicide on the spot. Since you don’t drink, you don’t have any good stuff here either?"

Hillel naturally knew what stuff Soldier Boy was talking about.

"Brah, how you do drugs outside is your business. I know that as long as taxes are paid, America doesn’t ban this either, but in my house, you can at most drink some whiskey, understand?" Hillel said solemnly.

Hillel at most had a bit of a text addiction, but he wouldn’t go out on the street to harm decent women, let alone touch those things.

I am irreconcilable with gambling and drugs!!

"You’re still a Puritan?" Soldier Boy looked surprised.

Hillel was more like a decent guy than most people today. As for having a text addiction, what were just two of them?

Back in his day...

"Alright then, let’s drink and chat about something else." Soldier Boy didn’t ruin the mood. "That business on Little St. James Island, you handled it well."

"I investigated your background. It’s very clean, without any blemishes—a true grassroots origin."

He took a big gulp of alcohol, his gaze somewhat drifting. "I’m different. I was packaged as a grassroots kid, a poor boy from the streets of South Philadelphia, who discovered not only that he had superpowers, but also a heart of gold..."

"Bullshit! My father started from scratch and owned half the steel mills in our state."

"I went to the best boarding school and received an elite education!!"

Soldier Boy was quite dejected. "But I got expelled because I acted recklessly and stirred up trouble. What do you think my father did?"

Hillel raised an eyebrow slightly. "Starting from scratch and having half the steel production in your state means he’s a capable man, an orthodox old redneck? Either he whipped you hard with a belt, or he was so bitterly disappointed that he couldn’t be bothered to discipline you!"

Soldier Boy nodded. "That’s right. He said someone like me brought shame to him, and he felt disappointed in me!!"

"Later, I received the injection of the first-generation Compound V, survived by a hair’s breadth, became a superhero, and returned to my hometown in glory."

"I wanted to prove to him that I wasn’t good for nothing. Back then I was still young; a little boy wanting to gain his father’s approval—or rather... a man’s true growth comes from his father’s approval!"

"But guess what he said to me?"

Soldier Boy grinned. "He said I took a shortcut!"

Hillel remained silent, not spouting any trash talk this time.

"Heh!"

"I’m not a good son; I admit that."

"But if I were to be a father, I would definitely raise my child into a true, upright man, instead of just being hypercritical like my father."

That might not necessarily be true!

Hillel shook his head. Everyone thinks that after becoming parents, they won’t repeat the behavior of the previous generation.

But when they truly become parents, they only think that the previous generation’s fists weren’t hard enough, ruthless enough, or fast enough!

Soldier Boy was a prime example.

When he beat up Homelander and spouted trash talk, he completely didn’t hold back at all.

A pathetic cycle.

"You know, Benjamin," Hillel slowly began, "actually, men who mature early often also mature very late. Children will always repeat the behavior of the previous generation, yet remain unaware of it."

"Have you ever thought that you are actually copying your father’s hypercritical routine?"

Soldier Boy turned his head, showing great interest in Hillel’s perspective.

"How low the success rate of the first-generation Compound V is, you know better than anyone."

"Tens of thousands of people scrambled to sign up, thinking they had grabbed an opportunity to reach the skies in a single bound! But reality is cruel; the people who could walk alive off that experimental table were few and far between!"

"You are the cream of the crop among them. You were able to survive, you were able to become Soldier Boy—that is not called taking a shortcut."

"If I were to summarize it, this is talent—a talent that belongs uniquely to you!"

Soldier Boy was slightly taken aback.

How many years had it been since someone said something like that to him, though mostly out of manipulation.

Coming from Hillel’s mouth, the meaning was completely different; this was an affirmation from a real man.

Many people said he was just lucky, and even the father he respected the most said he took a shortcut!!

He actually just lacked a word of affirmation!

"If it were me acting as your father..."

Hillel thought about it carefully and said, "I would only feel it was a pity—a pity that you didn’t use this talent where it should be used."

"But I would never hypercritically fault you for taking a shortcut."

"Because a man who wants to become a hero has committed no fault."

Soldier Boy lowered his head, remaining silent for a very long time without speaking.

He looked at that bottle of alcohol, his Adam’s apple unable to stop rolling.

After a long while, he didn’t speak again, only handing the bottle toward Hillel.

Hillel raised the Dr Pepper cola in his hand and clinked it against that bottle of whiskey.

Clink!

No extra words needed.

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