The Boys: I'm the Origin of Compound V

Chapter 4: A New Beginning

Adam crashed into consciousness with a sharp gasp, his chest heaving as though he had surfaced from deep waters. The ground beneath him was hard and cold, the faint smell of mildew invading his senses. Slowly, he pushed himself up, his arms trembling from exhaustion. His head throbbed, the memories of the lab, the experiments, and his decision to burn his powers still fresh in his mind.

He was alive. That was all that mattered.

But where was he?

The room was dark, save for a flickering overhead light casting eerie shadows against the cracked walls. It looked like some kind of basement—a forgotten corner of a city left to decay. Somewhere in the distance, he heard muffled voices and the faint hum of electricity.

He staggered to his feet, every muscle in his body aching. His hands were bare, free of the restraints he had worn for what felt like an eternity. He flexed his fingers, relief washing over him as he realized they were his own again—no needles, no tubes, no glowing blood being siphoned away.

The system's voice echoed in his mind, louder and more distinct than ever before.

Adam froze, his breath catching in his throat. "Fully human?" he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. He clenched his fists, the absence of power a hollow void where strength had once surged.

"Modern day?" Adam repeated, his mind racing. Before he could ask more, the system continued.

Survive. That much, at least, seemed straightforward.

Adam climbed a rickety set of stairs, the creaking wood beneath him threatening to give way at any moment. He reached a metal door at the top, its surface rusted and dented. Pushing it open, he stepped into a dimly lit alley.

The city loomed around him, towering skyscrapers cutting jagged lines across the night sky. Neon signs buzzed and flickered, casting colorful reflections on puddles of rainwater. The air was thick with smog and the distant wail of sirens—a chaotic symphony of modern life.

"Where the hell am I?" he muttered.

Turning a corner, he nearly collided with a figure running at full speed. The man—a scrawny, nervous-looking guy with messy brown hair—stumbled back, clutching a stack of flyers to his chest.

"Whoa, sorry!" the man exclaimed, his voice shaky. "Didn't see you there."

Adam took a step back, his gaze narrowing. "You okay?"

The man glanced over his shoulder, his eyes darting frantically. "Yeah, yeah, just… in a bit of a rush. You know how it is."

Before Adam could respond, the man took off, disappearing into the crowd. Something about him felt familiar, but Adam couldn't place it.

He turned his attention back to the street, his focus shifting to the giant screen dominating the side of a nearby building. A blonde woman with a beaming smile stared back at him, her costume glinting in the light.

"Starlight," the caption read, followed by, "America's Hero."

Adam's stomach twisted as realization dawned. He was in the world of The Boys.

The streets were bustling, the chaos of city life in full swing. Adam weaved through the crowd, his senses on high alert. He had seen enough of the show to know this wasn't a place for the weak. Without his abilities, he was vulnerable—a far cry from the man who had once commanded powers beyond imagination.

As he passed a storefront, a television in the window caught his eye. A news anchor's voice blared through the speakers, his tone grim.

"…another tragic loss today as a supe-related accident claimed the lives of twelve civilians. Homelander, leader of The Seven, expressed his condolences during a press conference earlier…"

The screen cut to a man in a red and blue costume, his cape billowing dramatically as he addressed a crowd of reporters. His expression was one of calculated sincerity, but Adam saw the coldness in his eyes.

"Rest assured," Homelander said, his voice oozing with false empathy, "we will find those responsible and ensure they face justice. The safety of the American people is my top priority."

Adam scoffed, his jaw tightening. He had no powers, no allies, and no plan. But one thing was clear—he wasn't going to let this world chew him up and spit him out.

He turned away from the screen, his mind racing. He needed to figure out his next move. Survival was one thing, but if he was going to make it here, he needed information, resources, and allies.

The system's voice interrupted his thoughts once more.

Adam grimaced, his hand instinctively brushing his arm. The last thing he needed was someone like Vought discovering him again.

But even as the weight of his situation pressed down on him, a spark of determination ignited in his chest. He had been through hell and back. He wasn't about to give up now.

"Survive," he muttered to himself, his voice steady. "And then… I'll make them pay."

End of Chapter 4