The Boys - Chapter 153: Ice Cream Cone (Patreon)

The following afternoon, Arke International’s livestream crew had every camera in place. More than twenty cameras were trained on the staged “disaster scene” from different angles.

Unlike yesterday’s rehearsal, today was live.

The number of viewers watching across America had already passed thirty million. The live chat and comments were flying by as everyone waited to see whether Homelander’s son could really pull this off.

Ryan stood at his starting position and took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his small fists.

He could hear the director counting down through his earpiece.

Three, two, one.

Ryan pushed off with both feet, shot straight up more than thirty feet, then leaned forward and flew toward the field of rubble.

He was much steadier than yesterday.

When he landed, both feet touched down at the same time, and he even managed a slight heroic crouch. The livestream chat immediately exploded.

“Holy shit, that was awesome!”

“Mini-Homelander!”

“He’s only eight! Holy fuck, this kid’s a natural. His future’s looking insane.”

Ryan used Heat Vision to cut cleanly through the obstacle in front of him. The beam stayed steady, its path never wavered, and the cut was far cleaner than anything he had managed yesterday.

The middle-aged actor playing the trapped victim crawled through the opening and shouted, “Thank you!” exactly as the script called for.

Up to that point, everything had gone exactly as rehearsed.

Ryan was just about to leave the scene according to the plan when Homelander’s voice suddenly came through his earpiece.

“Ryan, push him away.”

Ryan froze.

The script only said he was supposed to gently push the actor aside, simulating the movement of getting an injured person out of immediate danger.

A shove was fine. Even knocking him over would have been fine.

But Homelander’s tone clearly meant something else.

“Push him hard. Send him flying. Let everybody see how strong you are.”

Ryan bit his lip and answered quietly through the earpiece.

“Dad... that’s not what the script says.”

Homelander’s voice remained gentle, but beneath it was a firmness that left little room for refusal.

“Ryan, you’re my son. People need to see how strong you are. Anybody can give someone a little push, but only you can send a grown man flying thirty or forty feet. That’s real power.”

Ryan stood there.

The middle-aged man in front of him was still smiling, completely unaware that the script had just been changed.

Thirty million people were watching.

His dad was watching too.

Ryan took a deep breath, raised one hand, and pressed his palm against the man’s chest.

Hard.

He pushed.

The instant he did, the force came out far stronger than he intended.

The man shot backward as if he’d been hit by a cannonball, moving so fast the naked eye could barely follow him.

Thirty feet.

Fifty feet.

Sixty feet.

A concrete wall stood directly behind him.

If he hit it at that speed, there wouldn’t be much left of him.

Ryan’s pupils widened. His face went deathly pale.

He tried to yell for it to stop, but the words caught in his throat.

Just as the man came within six feet of the wall, a transparent sphere of water appeared behind him out of nowhere.

It was soft and elastic, like an enormous water-filled crash cushion.

The man slammed into it, and the force of the impact was absorbed layer by layer. His speed dropped from breakneck to slow, until he finally settled gently onto the ground.

Completely unharmed.

The livestream went dead silent for half a second.

Then the chat exploded.

“Holy shit, what was that?!”

“Satan stepped in! Fuck, good thing Satan was there.”

“That was way too close! Did Ryan push him too hard?”

Ryan stood frozen in place, both legs trembling.

He had almost...

He had almost killed someone.

Homelander quickly walked over, wrapped an arm around Ryan, and flashed his trademark smile at the cameras.

...

Backstage in the lounge, Ryan was curled up in the corner of the couch with his face buried against his knees, his small shoulders trembling.

When Damien opened the door and saw him, he let out a quiet sigh.

He walked over and sat beside Ryan without immediately saying anything. He simply rested a hand on the boy’s back and gave him two gentle pats.

After several seconds, Ryan’s muffled voice came from between his knees.

“Uncle Damien... I almost killed him.”

Damien rested a hand on his shoulder, his voice gentle.

“But you didn’t.”

Ryan looked up.

The tear tracks on his face still hadn’t dried, and the tip of his nose was red.

“But what if you hadn’t been there? Wouldn’t he have died?”

Damien looked at the guilt written all over Ryan’s face, smiled, and ruffled his hair.

“Your dad was there too. Even if I hadn’t stepped in, he would’ve flown over and saved him. You think your dad’s speed is just for show?”

Ryan blinked.

“Really?”

“Of course. He was watching you the whole time. I just moved a little faster.”

Damien watched the guilt on Ryan’s face slowly ease before continuing.

“Ryan, you did great today. Your dad just wanted everyone watching to see your potential. He’s proud of you. So proud that he forgot you’re only eight.”

“This was just a little accident. As you get older, you’ll get better and better at controlling your strength. Eventually, you’ll be able to decide exactly how far you push someone and exactly how much force you use.”

Ryan sniffed, wiped his face with the back of his hand, and nodded.

“Thanks, Uncle Damien.”

Damien patted his shoulder and was about to say something else when the door opened.

Homelander stood in the doorway with an expression Ryan rarely saw on his face.

Tenderness.

And guilt.

But what really made Ryan’s eyes light up was the sight of Homelander slowly bringing both hands out from behind his back.

A chocolate ice cream cone in his left hand.

A strawberry cone in his right.

“Pick one?”

A faint smile tugged at Homelander’s lips as he bent down until he was eye level with Ryan, apology written all over his ice-blue eyes.

Ryan stared at the two cones for a couple of seconds, then looked up at his father.

His nose stung, and his eyes reddened again.

“Dad...”

Homelander smiled and handed him the chocolate cone, then took a lick from the strawberry one himself.

“What happened earlier wasn’t your fault. Dad didn’t think it through.”

With his free hand, he wrapped an arm around Ryan’s shoulders and pulled him closer.

“You did great, Ryan. Dad’s proud of you.”

Ryan held the cone in one hand and clutched the edge of Homelander’s suit with the other, curling up against him as the last of the tension finally left his body.

Damien leaned back at the other end of the couch, watching the father and son together.

The whole scene felt surprisingly warm.

He pulled out a hand-rolled cigarette and lit it, smoke drifting through the soft, warm light.

Homelander raised his head and looked at Damien over Ryan’s head.

Damien gave him a small nod without saying anything.

They had known each other long enough that plenty of things no longer needed to be said out loud.

Ryan took a bite of his ice cream. Chocolate crumbs clung to the corner of his mouth as he muttered,

“Dad, next time you change the script... can you tell me beforehand?”

Homelander froze for a second, then looked down and chuckled softly.

“Yeah. Next time I’ll tell you first.”

Damien gave John a look.

John handed his cone to Ryan with a smile.

“All right, now they’re both yours. Dad and Uncle Damien need to talk about something.”

The two men stepped outside.

Damien took a deep drag from his cigarette, dropped the butt to the ground, and spoke quietly.

“Ryan was obviously scared shitless. I know you want to get him in front of the cameras as soon as possible.”

“But you can’t rush this.”