"Warriors"
The battle anthem began! This chapter was going to be a blast!
Twenty-four hours later, at the intersection of Fifth Avenue and 34th Street.
Butcher leaned against the convenience store's glass door, an unlit cigarette between his lips.
The lighter clicked in his hand, its wheel spinning uselessly, offering a perfunctory response to his mounting frustration.
He had stayed at the bar until three in the morning last night. When Hughie called, he was still lying on top of a call girl, not fully sober yet.
All he remembered was that idiot Hughie's voice trembling on the other end like he had seen a ghost.
Something about a masked man showing up at his door, knowing how Translucent had died, and saying he would make A-Train kneel in the street and apologize.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Butcher had laughed himself sober on the spot.
There was one person, and only one, in this world who could make A-Train kneel: that son of a bitch Homelander.
And Homelander certainly wouldn't wear some shitty convenience-store mask to knock on an apartment door in the middle of the night.
"Oi, you fell for his fucking bait, kid."
Butcher shoved his lighter back into his pocket, took the unlit cigarette out of his mouth, and crushed it between his thumb and forefinger, leaving tobacco stuck to his callused fingertips.
"Some random masked nutter tells you a few things you want to hear, and you believe him?
"You know what the fuck that's called? Fishing.
"It's the favorite trick of those cunts in Vought Security Department. Find someone whose face you can't see, give you a little of what you want, then wait for you to bite."
"He's not with Vought."
Hughie stood beside him, shoulders slightly hunched. His voice was quieter than usual, but his expression was unusually firm.
"Vought people don't knock."
"Oh, so you're a fucking Vought security expert now?"
Butcher flicked the tobacco scraps off his fingers and gave Hughie an exasperated sidelong look.
"Mate, how many Vought people have you met? Translucent? That old dog doesn't count. You blew his guts out when you met him.
"And who else besides him? That smiling Homelander on the telly? Or the cashier working at the Vought convenience store near your building?"
Hughie said nothing.
He knew Butcher didn't believe him. He wasn't sure himself whether the masked man last night had been real.
But he had come anyway. Butcher was fucking right about that: the man might have what he wanted.
Seeing Hughie remain silent, Butcher scoffed and pulled a cigarette pack from his coat pocket, intending to take another, only to find it empty.
He crumpled the empty pack, tossed it onto the sidewalk, and ground it into a gap between the paving bricks with his shoe.
"I'm not here because of your bullshit intuition. I'm here because you fucking called seven times in the middle of the night and kept me from enjoying my drinks.
"I want to see what this 'John' is made of. Odds are it's Frenchie fucking with you while he's pissed, or some street thug trying to loot a burning house.
"Do you know how much Vought's offering for us now?"
Then he raised his head and stared across the street.
"If he's not with Vought, I'll call today a wasted trip. If he is, I'll show him what happens when he wades into these muddy waters."
Before long, a gray Ford sedan approached from the south along Fifth Avenue.
It stopped at the corner with its engine still running, a small puff of white smoke escaping the exhaust.
Slam-
A young blond man in a dark hoodie and black face covering climbed out of the driver's seat.
As soon as his target appeared, Butcher wiped the sleazy expression off his face, narrowed his eyes, and studied him closely.
He looked no older than twenty, with a relaxed stance and his hands hanging naturally at his sides. He closed the door neither quickly nor slowly.
Hmm. Not Vought Security Department's standard movements. Those Vought fuckers walk like they've got iron rods shoved up their rectums. Disgusting.
Not military, either. Soldiers tend to close car doors with their left hands. He used his right.
Butcher had worked in the CIA. When sizing someone up, he looked at their habitual movements first, and none of this man's movements belonged to any organization he knew.
Then the man went around to the passenger side, reached inside with one hand, and dragged another lump of "person" out by a fistful of collar.
Oh-
Rather than a person, it was more of a humanoid creature beaten into a pig's head.
Blue-and-white uniform. It really is fucking A-Train. But could it be some human counterfeit brought in to take the fall?
Fuck... no.
Butcher's pupils contracted at that instant.
After comparing the details, he discovered to his shock that the man playing dead on the ground really was the genuine A-Train.
Which meant-
The fastest supe in America, a member of The Seven, one of Vought's most valuable assets.
Had been dragged out of a car by the back of his collar like a dog beaten half to death?
Butcher's lips twitched. His brain rapidly skipped over all the disdain and mockery he had prepared-
Fuck me.
He really isn't with Vought. Those bastards wouldn't beat one of their own Seven like this.
"Oi, Hughie. You really have hooked a big one."
Butcher flashed his trademark wicked grin, spat the cigarette butt from his mouth onto the ground, and ground it out under his shoe, staring intently at the young man in the distance.
He needed to watch carefully and see exactly what this man wanted to do.
Meanwhile, John released A-Train's collar, stepped back, and pointed his chin at Hughie across the street.
The instant Hughie saw A-Train's face, his fingers dug into his palms.
This animal, this bastard he wanted to tear apart with his bare hands, had really appeared before him.
"No need for introductions, right? You've met him. Hughie Campbell."
John spoke quietly, but Butcher could hear every word from across the street.
Then he turned and motioned for A-Train to go over himself.
A-Train struggled up from the ground, then knelt there looking at Hughie. His Adam's apple bobbed before he finally forced out a complete sentence:
"Mr. Campbell... I ran into your girlfriend. I didn't stop. I'm sorry. Please... please forgive me!"
After saying this, A-Train bent forward, his knees striking Fifth Avenue's sidewalk heavily, striking Hughie's heart full of fury.
"Son of a bitch, never! You fucking bastard!"
Without hesitation, Hughie drove his fist hard into A-Train's face, using almost all the strength he had ever possessed.
The next second, a bloodied white tooth flew out of A-Train's mouth, achieving freedom from its class.
(Readers who object to this part, please see the end of the chapter. We'll let the conclusions speak.)
"Hughie, how's this for a deal?"
Eight hours earlier.
John stood outside Room 3207, listening to the pounding funk music coming from the speakers inside.
A-Train's still alive, and living pretty comfortably...
John gently gripped the handle with his fingers. Then he tore through the side of the door panel holding the electronic lock, sending the metal lock cylinder flying.
Then he walked inside.
The room wasn't large: a leather couch, an LCD television, and a coffee table littered with energy-bar wrappers and several used syringes.
John sniffed. The air held a sickly sweet smell of rubbing alcohol, anabolic metabolites, and cheap air freshener.
On the nearby couch, A-Train sat with his back to the door, a tourniquet clenched in his right hand and his left arm extended straight, a needle still in his vein.
The pale-blue Compound V was pumping into his bloodstream drop by drop.
His body went rigid the instant the drug entered him. His back muscles spasmed violently, and the syringe popped out of his vein and fell to the floor, splashing liquid onto the carpet and burning a small scorched patch.
Then he heard faint footsteps.
Whoosh-
A-Train's reflex arc was much shorter than an ordinary person's. Compound V had enhanced his nervous system, allowing his super speed to keep pace with the processing of his five senses.
An ordinary person needed a hundred and fifty milliseconds to react to a sound. He needed fewer than thirty.
And within those thirty milliseconds, his brain completed its identification:
Someone behind me!
Vought logistics?
No.
Not my agent, either. Not anyone authorized to enter the safe house.
An enemy... some fucking spy, or...
Whoever it is... if they've discovered my secret, they can become a dead man!
A-Train had no time to verify his guess. He immediately pushed off with his left foot and broke into a sprint.
For an unarmed speedster, the body was the most effective means of attack, especially the extreme destructive force it produced after accelerating.
It could smash people to pieces outright.
And when it came to dead men, A-Train never held back his strength.
Bang-
The air in the safe house exploded into a ring of sonic force behind him. The scattered syringes and empty vials on the coffee table were instantly flung up by the blast, spinning several times before smashing to pieces against the wall.
The shock wave also pushed the couch back nearly a meter, plowing a deep furrow through the carpet.
With that acceleration, everything around him entered slow motion in that instant.
Only the goggle-wearing A-Train propelled himself straight toward the intruder.
Only dead men keep secrets.
Very soon, he collided with John's hand.
More precisely, he collided with one outstretched hand, which John had pulled from his pocket faster than anything A-Train had ever seen in his life.
The five fingers had already spread by the instant he struck them. Their pads pressed hard against his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, their tips sinking into the skin at his temples.
In an instant, that large hand clamped around A-Train's entire face, holding him immobile like a gripped billiard ball.
And the moment his body struck that hand, his kinetic energy did not disappear. Instead, it changed into another form.
Boom!
A shock wave exploded outward from the point of contact, shattering every light tube on the ceiling. Glass fragments rained down.
Before A-Train could recover from the tearing ringing in his ears and the shock rattling his skull, one hand lifted his body.
Like a wildcat lifted by the scruff, his entire body left the floor.
John's hand was still clamped over his face, his fingers not loosening in the slightest.
Without a foothold for support, A-Train could only kick wildly in the air, trying to find leverage to maintain his balance.
But in his extreme terror, A-Train discovered despairingly that kicking John's knee was like kicking a steel pillar. It did nothing except send a numbing jolt through his own toes.
Then came his head.
Instinctively, A-Train used both hands to pry and claw at the hand gripping his face.
But that hand was like an iron clamp, firmly restraining his movements. His struggles did not loosen its grip at all.
"Aaah... it hurts! Let go!"
"Hmm?"
John looked at A-Train with indifferent eyes and turned his hand slightly to the right.
A-Train's face was forced to follow, his neck twisting almost to its limit. Then John carried the motion through and smashed him into the wall.
A-Train's back made contact with the wall first.
The plasterboard caved inward under the immense pressure of his back, then shattered like an eggshell. Next came the steel framing. He felt his spine strike the edge of an I-beam.
The entire wall shifted backward roughly an inch under the impact. Every screw at its joints snapped, and a dent matching his body's outline perfectly remained in the metal surface.
Plaster debris and insulation fibers poured out of the hole in the wall, littering the floor.
Then came his limbs.
Crack, crack...
The tibia in A-Train's lower leg gave a sharp crack, fractures spreading from the middle of the bone.
Then the pain reached his brain. It began in his left calf and shot upward along his sciatic nerve.
It passed through his lumbar, thoracic, and cervical spine, finally exploding like a bomb at the base of his skull.
He opened his mouth to scream, but his vocal cords had barely begun to spasm before bloody froth in his throat choked them off.
"Now it looks like you're the worthless one."
"Look at you. Without that suit, pitiful, cowardly-you're just a blubbering loser."
Looking at A-Train begging for mercy like a dog wagging its tail, the complete opposite of A-Train's fearlessness before death in his previous life, John felt sick.
So he returned A-Train's own words to him, unchanged.
"And you just rammed into me?"
John looked down at him. Behind his face covering, his eyes lit up with a savage, dazzling red glow.
"Looks like you were trying to kill me?"
A-Train opened his mouth to answer. He didn't know how.
Say yes? Say no? His lips trembled, his pupils contracted violently, and his left leg kept spasming with explosive pain.
"Cough, cough... listen, man, I'm sorry... I can give you anything..."
"Please, don't kill me... I have a family. I have-I'm still a member of The Seven. If you kill me, Homelander will definitely find you!"
"Homelander? Haven't heard that name in a long time..."
John crouched and grabbed the back of his collar as casually as picking up a bag of trash, then turned toward the door.
A-Train's back dragged a long bloody streak across the carpet. Every raised patch of fibers his lower leg passed over made his broken tibia grind violently.
What followed was unbroken, bone-deep agony.
"You can't leave me like this... fuck! When he finds out someone's messing with his Seven on his turf, you know what he'll do to you!"
"He'll use it to cut you in half. Last time, he threw a terrorist down from over the Atlantic Ocean-"
Hearing A-Train's threat, John set him down, then quietly stared at his mangled face.
"If I dared to come looking for you, do you really think I care?"
"Cough, cough... Who the fuck are you-"
"Who am I? About the Compound V you inject-the batch you stole last month was transferred straight out of the Vought Research and Development Department's cold storage.
"Through the special passage from Red River to the third basement level of Vought Tower. This wasn't your first time running errands for him. Even Edgar doesn't know you're his private courier, right?"
At John's words, A-Train's pupils contracted violently.
Not even his agent knew about this. Not even the Vought Research and Development Department knew.
Homelander had told him that if anyone discovered this shipment existed, the first to die would be the person who handled it-in other words, him.
So this has gotten out. A third person has heard about it. Does Homelander want to kill me without dirtying his own hands?
No, no, impossible. Under these circumstances, he'd only fly over himself and snap my neck.
So...
"Who exactly... are you? How do you know-"
A-Train's voice squeezed out from deep in his throat, carrying not only the pain of his broken bones but a tremor of despair.
"Do you really want to know?"
John slowly reached up, hooked his fingers under the lower edge of his mask, and lifted it.
He removed the entire mask, revealing the face beneath.
Blond hair, blue eyes, a clean jawline, no older than twenty. Yet he shared the very same face as the devil in A-Train's memories.
The only difference was that the person before him was a full twenty years younger than the sixty-foot-tall poster in Times Square.
"Heh... cough, cough."
The instant A-Train saw that face, his pupils first contracted, then dilated. His lips opened, closed, and opened again.
Like a fish thrown ashore, trying to breathe air that did not belong to it.
His brain frantically raced through all manner of outlandish possibilities faster than his legs could run.
Was this fucking Vought's cloning project?
No, Edgar would never bring that kind of crime-against-humanity stain into the company. A long-lost son?
No, Homelander and Maeve had never had a child...
A-Train went through every scientific explanation, every conspiracy theory, and every laboratory rumor in his head.
Not one could tell him why Homelander stood before him, looking twenty years younger than even he was.
"Now your life is in my hands. You'll do whatever I tell you to do. Understand?"
"Cough, cough..."
"Do you want me to kill you here, or do you want to die at Homelander's hands?"
"I, I... I'll do what you say."
A-Train closed his eyes in agony. He had accepted his fate.
The elevator doors opened onto the underground parking garage.
John dragged him across the garage to his gray Ford sedan, opened the door, stuffed him into the passenger seat, and shut the door.
"Tomorrow at noon, at Fifth Avenue and 34th Street, you'll kneel before a man named Hughie Campbell and admit you ran into his girlfriend and killed her.
"Your voice needs to be loud enough for people across the street to hear, and your tone sincere enough that you believe it yourself. If you can't do that-"
John turned his head. For an instant, those branding-iron-red eyes met the dashboard light through the eyeholes of his mask.
"Whether you die at my hands or Homelander's, it makes no difference."
(Argument follows)
An argument for the plausibility of Hughie Campbell knocking out A-Train's teeth in The Boys-based on the superhuman physiological "shell-cavity" defense model and biomechanical impact analysis
Abstract
In my writing, the scene in which ordinary human Hughie Campbell knocked out the speedster superhuman A-Train's teeth with one punch was criticized as "breaking the established setting."
Therefore, drawing on the established laws of superhuman physiology in this universe, this paper constructs a binary defense model of "hardened shell-vulnerable cavity" and, through two canonical cases-Translucent's internal detonation and Homelander's ear canal puncture-derives the inherent mechanical weakness of superhuman teeth as the "junction between external hard tissue and internal soft tissue."
Furthermore, this paper employs impact dynamics and estimates of periodontal anchoring strength to demonstrate the biomechanical feasibility of Hughie's attack under specific circumstances.
Keywords: superhuman physiology; shell defense; cavity vulnerability; biomechanics; tooth loss; The Boys
1. Introduction
The Boys aims to deconstruct traditional superheroes, and one of its central premises is that "superhumans are not invincible."
However, readers' acceptance of whether "ordinary people can physically injure superhumans" is often constrained by intuition. Hughie knocking out A-Train's teeth is a typical example of such controversy.
This paper aims to prove the event's inevitability and internal consistency through two dimensions: the setting's internal logic and approximate scientific modeling.
1.1 Research question
Can an ordinary, unarmed human inflict tooth-loss-level damage on A-Train, a superhuman renowned for his speed and defenses?
1.2 Research methods
Literature analysis: review the series' official setting, producer interviews, and supplementary materials;
Case comparison: select two injury cases involving Translucent and Homelander, both acknowledged "high-defense" superhumans, and derive patterns in their defenses;
Mechanical modeling: draw on oral biomechanics parameters to estimate the critical impact conditions required for a blow to dislodge a tooth.
2. The theoretical framework of "binary defense" in superhuman physiology
2.1 Surface defense: the composite keratin-carbon-based exoskeleton hypothesis
Most superhumans' skin exhibits a high-density fibrous structure or carbon-based metamaterial elements, with tensile strength and hardness far exceeding those of the natural stratum corneum. This layer has extremely high resistance to cutting, piercing, and blunt impacts, serving as the primary barrier of superhuman physical protection.
2.2 The internal cavity system
However, the strengthening effects of V Compound are not uniform. Internal or semi-internal tissues such as the digestive tract, respiratory tract, ear canals, oral mucosa, and periodontal ligaments do not receive cellular reinforcement of the same degree. This is because:
The compound primarily affects tissues developed from the ectoderm (such as skin, hair, and nails); the mesoderm (muscles and bones) and endoderm (internal organs and mucosa) receive only limited enhancement; sensory organs (ears, nose, and mouth) retain structures close to the human baseline because they must maintain sensory sensitivity.
This establishes the binary defense rule of a "steel-hard shell and an internally vulnerable cavity."
3. Canonical case verification: the injury patterns of Translucent and Homelander
3.1 Translucent: external immunity and internal collapse
Translucent's skin could withstand chainsaws, rifles, and car collisions, but Frenchie explicitly stated that "internal injuries can still kill him."
The Boys implanted C4 through rectal intubation and detonated it internally, completely shattering his body.
This case demonstrates that a superhuman's overall survival depends on the integrity of the shell. Once the internal cavity is subjected to impact or an explosion, the shell struggles to provide protection.
3.2 Counterexample
Queen Maeve stabbed a metal tube into Homelander's ear, causing bleeding and severe pain.
Although his skin was "impervious to blades and bullets," the ear canal is an internal cavity whose mucosal and eardrum structures are vulnerable.
The official setting guide also acknowledges that "Homelander's sensory organs are among his few physical weaknesses."
This case further confirms that even the strongest superhuman still has lethal weaknesses at the interfaces of bodily passages and mucous membranes.
4. Biomechanical analysis of tooth loss
4.1 The special status of teeth as "partially exposed organs"
Although teeth are partially exposed outside the body, their roots are secured to the alveolar bone by periodontal ligaments. Rich in nerves and blood vessels, these ligaments are internal soft tissue.
Tooth hardness (enamel) may be improved by the compound, but the anchoring structure (periodontal ligament) has not received equivalent reinforcement. Otherwise, it would lose its shock-absorbing function, affecting chewing stability during high-speed running.
4.2 Impact force estimates and critical conditions
Using human periodontal ligament tensile strength (approximately 5-10 MPa) and tooth occlusal area (approximately 30 mm²) as references, the shear force required for dislocation is approximately 150-300 N. A powerful barehanded punch can reach a peak force of 1,000-2,000 N, and Hughie could approach this value in extreme anger.
Furthermore, shear efficiency is highest when the incisors are struck from the front and the impact direction forms an angle of 45°-60° with the tooth's long axis.
In this book, Hughie's punch followed precisely the upward trajectory of an uppercut, matching this mechanical condition exactly.
4.3 The negative effects of A-Train's dynamic state
At the time, A-Train was stationary or engaged in a low-speed confrontation, and he was in an extremely weakened state. His own momentum provided no cushioning.
Conversely, his physiological adaptations to high speed may be concentrated in his legs, which instead reduces his bite force, making the periodontal ligaments more susceptible to tearing.
5. Comprehensive discussion: plot consistency and counter-narrative
5.1 Responses to the main objections
1. A-Train once smashed Robin apart, so shouldn't his body be far harder than a human's?
During the collision, A-Train's entire musculature was tensed, and the contact surface was his shoulder (where the exoskeleton is thickest). This cannot be compared to a relaxed oral cavity.
2. Hughie has no superpowers, so isn't his strength insufficient?
Periodontal ligaments are not armor. The absolute force required is lower than that needed to break the skin, and the contact area between fist and teeth is small, producing extremely high pressure. It is theoretically feasible.
6. Conclusion
By constructing a binary defense model, citing the internal cavity injuries of Translucent and Homelander, and incorporating biomechanical estimates of tooth anchoring structures, this paper proves that Hughie knocking out A-Train's teeth with one punch is a highly plausible event within the universe of The Boys.
References
1. The Boys Season 1-3, Amazon Studios.
2. Vought Industries Internal Biometrics Report (fictional).
3. Kikuchi, Y. et al. "Periodontal Ligament Tensile Strength in Human Molars," J Biomech, 2018.
4. Ennis, D. "The Physiology of Compound V," The Boys Official Guide, 2022.
5. Interview with screenwriter Eric Kripke, Collider, June 2022.
Respectfully submitted.