The Soldier Boy Popsicle, Squeezed Dry

At 8:50 the next morning, the laboratory's daily schedule was put on hold.

Nearly every working screen in the Research Center was switched to the same internal channel.

Lin Mo and Joanna had been placed in the playroom ahead of time to watch together at Vought's direction.

When the time came, Vought International's blue logo appeared on the screens.

Beneath it was a line of white text: [Soldier Boy Special Press Conference]

Joanna sat on the carpet, watching Lin Mo stare intently at the television. She clearly had little interest in the event.

She had wanted to continue the unfinished shape exercise from yesterday—an obscure little game—but found that the screen was locked and she couldn't change what it showed.

"No puzzles today?" Joanna asked curiously.

"Today they're making everyone watch the news," Lin Mo explained.

"What's the news?"

"Important things that happen outside. We can't go out."

"So we can only watch them on a screen."

Joanna glanced at the television, then toward the back of the Observation Room.

There were more people than usual on the other side of the glass today. Besides the familiar researchers, several Vought managers who rarely appeared were there.

They weren't recording experiment data today. They just stood before the screen, watching the press conference.

At nine sharp, the Vought logo slowly faded, and the picture cut to a solemnly decorated press hall with a huge American flag hanging in the background.

On either side were Vought Corporation logos and promotional photos of Soldier Boy. In the photos, he wore a green combat suit and held a shield, smiling confidently at the camera.

An empty podium stood in the center of the hall. Reporters filled the seats below, their low conversations mingling with the clicks of camera shutters.

A few seconds later, a Vought public relations representative stepped onto the stage. Lin Mo took a careful look but didn't recognize him. Ashley probably hadn't even been born yet.

After taking the stage, the representative didn't speak right away. Instead, he lowered his head and remained silent for a full ten seconds, as if in mourning.

The entire press hall fell quiet with him. It was an obviously calculated pause, designed to put everyone in a somber mood.

When the representative raised his head, his eyes were already slightly red.

"Today, on behalf of Vought International, I bring the American people news that fills us with profound grief."

His voice was low and restrained.

"Soldier Boy, one of America's greatest heroes and the leader of Payback, made the ultimate sacrifice while carrying out a secret military operation vital to national security."

A wave of hushed gasps immediately swept through the press hall, and the cameras hurried to capture the reporters' shocked expressions.

Lin Mo watched the screen in silence, almost at a loss for words. They had to be in on it.

There was no body, no photograph of the scene, not even an exact location for the operation.

All Vought had were lines about a secret national security mission and a heroic sacrifice. Who knew where Soldier Boy had actually gone? Yet the American press was racing to report it without the slightest concern that it might be false.

The representative continued, "Because the mission involves military secrets of the highest classification, we cannot disclose where or how it took place."

"But we can confirm that, to the very end, Soldier Boy stood on the front line, protecting his teammates and the American people."

"His sacrifice prevented a disaster that could have threatened countless innocent lives."

The same old script. No wonder Vought would be so practiced at handling things like this in later years. It was their bread and butter.

Just then, Lin Mo heard someone in the Observation Room draw a quiet breath.

He couldn't tell whether they were nervous or simply knew this script all too well.

The press conference had clearly been vetted by both Vought and the United States government. Every sentence sounded grand, yet not one contained a detail anyone could investigate.

Then the footage began: old clips of Soldier Boy. In black-and-white war movie scenes, he stood before a trench, raising his shield high as soldiers cheered behind him.

In a color promotional film, he wore a crisp military uniform and shook hands with the president.

In another old news clip, he picked up a crying child and gave the camera a practiced smile. A solemn voiceover listed his achievements: fighting in World War II, stopping an enemy secret weapons program, destroying spy networks...

Some of those exploits had been wildly exaggerated, and the footage had been re-edited.

Lin Mo suspected some of it had never happened at all, but the representative presented it as unquestionable history.

Then they could sell Soldier Boy merchandise and milk him for film and television content too.

They really were getting everything they could out of him. Even after he'd become a human popsicle, they still had to squeeze every last bit of value from him.

"For decades, Soldier Boy was more than a Superhero," the Vought representative said.

"He embodied courage, sacrifice, and the American spirit."

"Today, we have lost a soldier."

"We have lost an icon."

"And we have lost a true national hero."

A photograph of Soldier Boy in uniform when he was younger appeared on the screen. He looked slightly more boyish than he did in later movies, but he already had that same commanding, confident air.

Joanna hadn't been watching the television. She preferred watching Lin Mo, but when it became clear he wasn't going to play with her, she gave up. Bored, she picked up a nearby toy and glanced idly at the screen.

When the photograph appeared, however, she suddenly sat up a little straighter.

Lin Mo noticed the change too.

"What is it?"

Joanna didn't answer. She stared at the face on the screen, her eyes narrowing slightly, as though searching for a connection she couldn't quite put into words.

Lin Mo frowned. Did Joanna know who Soldier Boy was?

He dismissed the thought as soon as it arose. How could she? Joanna had been here since birth, and the researchers would never have told her about her connection to Soldier Boy.

"Do you know him?" Lin Mo asked tentatively.

"No."

"Then why do you keep looking at him?"

Joanna raised a hand to touch her own cheek, then looked back at Soldier Boy on the screen.

"There's something strange about him."

"What's strange?"

"I... don't know." Unable to find the words, Joanna sounded a little deflated.

Lin Mo paused. Joanna had never actually met Soldier Boy, but she didn't need a clear memory to sense a family resemblance—or the fact that superhumans were fundamentally different from ordinary people.

Still, she seemed to sense that the man in the photograph was connected to her somehow.

Then again, Lin Mo looked at Soldier Boy's handsome, sharply chiseled face on the television, then at Joanna's cute little face. She was frowning now, but she really had inherited her father's looks.

The television cut to a group photo of Payback, and Lin Mo set the thought aside. It didn't matter. Joanna would meet her father someday.

He just didn't know how Soldier Boy's attitude would change with Homelander being a girl. After all, the Soldier Boy in the original story was a man who could be brutally harsh with his words.

The broadcast continued. In the group photo, Soldier Boy stood in the center, the other members gathered around him with smiles on their faces.

The public relations representative called them a close-knit family of heroes.