Soldier Boy automatically ignored the flirtatious glance and asked, "A-Train, how do you feel now?"
"Great! Private Angel is practically a goddess of medicine. Compared to her, Vought's medical team is a bunch of quacks," A-Train praised.
To prove his point, he skipped a few steps, then restlessly activated his powers, leaving a long string of sonic booms behind him.
Within seconds, he had run more than a dozen laps around the White House perimeter.
He braked sharply again, stopping in front of Soldier Boy and whipping up a fierce gust of wind.
"See, sir? I'm completely fine!" A-Train flashed his pearly whites in a radiant grin.
A-Train felt that his earlier flattery had hit the mark.
Why else would he have been treated first?
"Good, good." Soldier Boy beckoned to him. "Come here a second."
"Sure..." A-Train cautiously walked over, deeply anxious that he might suffer the same fate as Black Noir.
Wait, why was Soldier Boy clenching his fist?
"Fuck you!"
A left hook came with a deafening roar.
Caught completely off guard, A-Train was sent flying, still unable to believe what had happened as his vision reeled.
"You goddamn black pussy! That's what you get for talking shit!"
Soldier Boy activated Super Flight and followed close behind, landing another right hook before A-Train could hit the ground.
The two heavy blows left A-Train dizzy and seeing stars.
But A-Train was still conscious and had suffered only minor injuries: bruises on both cheeks.
He could even use his powerful core muscles to twist around in midair and avoid falling when he landed.
Of course, it really did hurt.
A-Train felt as though he had been hit by a locomotive hurtling down the tracks.
"Sir, did I do something wrong again?" A-Train asked in terror.
Soldier Boy remained silent,