Draining Every Last Drop from the Old Popsicle

At 8:50 the next morning, every routine activity in the laboratory was put on hold.

Nearly every working screen in the research center switched to the same internal channel.

Lin Mo and Joanna had been placed in the playroom early, and Vought had instructed them to watch together.

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

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

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

She had wanted to continue the shape exercise she had left unfinished yesterday—a little game whose name she didn't know—but the electronic screen was locked, and she couldn't change what it showed.

"No questions today?" Joanna asked curiously.

"Today, everyone has to watch the news," Lin Mo explained.

"What's the news?"

"Important things happening outside. We can't go out."

"So we have to 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 too.

They weren't recording experimental data today. They simply stood before a screen and watched the news conference.

At exactly nine, the Vought logo slowly faded, and the image cut to a solemnly decorated press hall. A huge American flag hung 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 quiet chatter mingling with the clicks of camera shutters.

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

Once onstage, the representative didn't speak right away. He lowered his head and remained silent for a full ten seconds, as though in mourning.

The entire press hall fell quiet with him. It was clearly a carefully planned pause, meant 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 must announce profoundly tragic news to all the people of America."

His voice was low and controlled.

"Soldier Boy, one of America's greatest heroes and the leader of Payback, has died heroically while carrying out a classified military operation vital to national security."

A wave of stifled gasps swept through the press hall. Cameras quickly captured the reporters' shocked expressions.

Lin Mo watched the screen in silence, almost at a loss for words. They must all be going along with this.

There was no body, no photos from the scene, not even a specific location for the operation.

All Vought had were a few prepared lines about a classified national security mission and a heroic sacrifice. For all anyone knew, Soldier Boy could be anywhere. Yet the American news outlets were racing to report it without the slightest concern that it might be false.

The PR director continued, "Because the mission involved military secrets of the highest classification, we cannot disclose where it took place or the details of the operation."

"But we can confirm that, in his final moments, Soldier Boy remained on the front line, protecting his teammates and the American people."

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

Same old script. No wonder Vought would be so practiced at handling incidents like this in later years. It was their stock-in-trade.

Then Lin Mo heard someone in the Observation Room draw a quiet breath.

He couldn't tell whether they were nervous or simply too familiar with the script.

The news conference had clearly been reviewed by both Vought and the American government. Every sentence sounded grand, yet none contained a single detail anyone could investigate.

Next came footage from Soldier Boy's past. In a black-and-white war-film clip, he stood before a trench with his shield raised high while soldiers cheered behind him.

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

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

Some of those exploits had been grossly exaggerated, and the footage had been recut.

Lin Mo suspected some of them had never happened at all. Yet the representative presented them as unquestionable history.

Then there was the merchandise featuring Soldier Boy, along with film and television projects about him.

They really did squeeze every last bit of value out of him. The man was a frozen relic, and they were still wringing him dry.

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

"He has stood for 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 appeared of Soldier Boy in uniform when he was younger. He looked a little less seasoned than he did in later films, but he already carried the same commanding confidence.

Joanna hadn't been paying much attention to the television. She still preferred watching Lin Mo. But once she realized he wasn't going to play with her, she gave up and listlessly picked up a toy, only glancing at the screen now and then.

When that photograph appeared, though, she suddenly sat up straighter.

Lin Mo noticed the change too.

"What is it?"

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

Lin Mo frowned. Could Joanna know Soldier Boy?

He dismissed the thought as soon as it arose. How could she? She'd been here since birth, and the researchers would never tell 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 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 right words, Joanna let out the answer in frustration.

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

Even so, she sensed that the man in the photograph was somehow connected to her.

Then Lin Mo looked at Soldier Boy's handsome, chiseled face on the television and turned to Joanna's cute little face. She looked troubled at the moment, but she had certainly inherited her father's looks.

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

He just didn't know how Soldier Boy would treat Homelander now that Homelander was a girl. After all, in the original story, Soldier Boy was a man who could be vicious with his words.

The broadcast continued. In the group photo, Soldier Boy stood at the center, surrounded by the other members, all smiling.

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