The Boys: I'm the Origin of Compound V

Chapter 5: In the Lion's Den

The streets were alive with the buzz of late-night activity. Adam walked aimlessly, blending into the crowd as he absorbed the sights and sounds of the modern world. His mind raced, analyzing his options and trying to piece together a plan.

Information was his first priority. He needed to know what year it was, how far along the events of The Boys had progressed, and what dangers he might face.

He ducked into a small diner, its neon sign flickering as a bell chimed over the door. The smell of greasy food hit him immediately, his stomach growling in response. He hadn't eaten in what felt like days—though, given his recent ordeal, it could have been much longer.

Sliding into a booth near the window, he scanned the room. A few patrons sat scattered around, most of them focused on their meals or their phones. A television mounted on the wall played a news segment, the anchor's voice barely audible over the hum of conversation.

A waitress approached, her notepad in hand. "What can I get you?"

"Just coffee," Adam said, flashing her a polite smile.

She nodded and walked off, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Adam rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the tip, genius," he muttered under his breath.

The waitress returned moments later with a steaming cup of coffee. Adam thanked her and took a sip, the bitter liquid grounding him as he turned his attention to the television.

"…and in other news, tensions between Vought International and the federal government continue to rise as questions surrounding supe accountability remain unanswered…"

A montage of familiar faces filled the screen: Homelander, Queen Maeve, A-Train. Each one looked larger than life, their polished images carefully crafted by Vought's PR machine.

Adam's jaw tightened as memories of Frederick Vought's lab flooded back. The torture, the experiments, the endless cycle of pain. His glowing blue blood being siphoned from his veins, fueling the very empire now paraded on the screen.

He clenched his fists, his mind racing. He had lost his powers, but his blood was still unique—a dangerous asset in this world. If Vought found out he was here, they would stop at nothing to get their hands on him.

But if he played his cards right, that same blood could be his greatest weapon.

As he left the diner, Adam's focus shifted to his immediate needs: a safe place to stay, money, and information. The crowded city streets offered anonymity, but they also carried risks. He had no idea who might be watching or what dangers lurked around every corner.

A flicker of movement caught his eye—a man in a tattered coat shuffling into a nearby alley. Adam hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to stay away. But curiosity won out, and he followed at a distance.

The alley was dimly lit, the faint smell of garbage and damp concrete hanging in the air. The man crouched near a dumpster, rummaging through a pile of discarded items.

"Hey," Adam called out, his voice cautious.

The man flinched, his head snapping up to reveal a gaunt face and hollow eyes. "What do you want?" he demanded, his voice rough.

"I'm not here to cause trouble," Adam said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "Just looking for some information."

The man eyed him warily. "Information costs money."

Adam frowned, realizing he had nothing to offer. "I don't have any cash," he admitted. "But maybe we can help each other."

The man snorted. "Help me? You don't look like you can help yourself."

"Looks can be deceiving," Adam said, his tone firm.

The man studied him for a moment before sighing. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything about Vought," Adam said. "And The Seven."

The man's expression darkened, a flicker of fear crossing his face. "You don't mess with Vought," he said, his voice low. "Not unless you've got a death wish."

Adam leaned against the wall, his gaze steady. "Maybe I do."

The man shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Crazy bastard."

He hesitated before continuing. "There's a guy—calls himself Frenchie. If you're looking to mess with Vought, he's the one you want to talk to. But good luck finding him. He doesn't trust anyone."

Adam nodded, a spark of hope igniting in his chest. Frenchie was part of The Boys—a group that might just be his ticket to surviving in this world.

"Thanks," Adam said, turning to leave.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," the man called after him.

Adam didn't look back. He had a lead, and for now, that was enough.

As he walked through the city, his mind buzzed with possibilities. Frenchie, Butcher, Hughie—the pieces were falling into place. But he knew this was only the beginning.

He was a man without powers in a world dominated by gods, but he had something they didn't: the will to fight, no matter the odds.

And he wasn't going to stop until Vought paid for everything they had done.

End of Chapter 5