Chapter Text
Black Noir was sitting in a bustling crowd, the spotlight on him like an encroaching shadow threatening to swallow anything that crawled into its depths. Nerves sending crashing waves down his spine. This is all he’s ever wanted, to be free from Vought’s control and to be his own person, it wasn’t about becoming something he was not. He was his own person, carrying on the mantle of the dead and forgotten and spinning it into something that fits his identity. This mask was a heavy burden to wear, but this is all he’s ever known from the very moment he got the role because he wanted a few checks to his name. He was trying to find his purpose amidst a world that had too much to say, desperate for approval and attention. For people to see him for what he was good at, not for who he has allowed himself to become. He allowed him to become drawn to violence and it almost consumed him, a disease he could not cure nor wrought from his soul.
He had watched those by his side die, Homelander, The Deep, all of the Seven. Those who had the world in their hands and had let themselves become monsters, leaving a trail of blood and guts in their path like it was a trophy to be proud of. Those he called friends, people he was unwaveringly loyal to without considering the consequences they would bring on others. They controlled everything and he witnessed them all get torn apart.
Homelander, cursed by his deflated ego and ruined by his desire for power, reduced to a bloody mass in front of the burning remains of the white house. A spectacle. An execution for all eyes to see.
Noir II wouldn’t have survived that devastation if it wasn't for the puppetry Stan Edgar had pulled behind the scenes, how he was nothing but a mediocre man who became a man with so much power. Who gave him the career he had sought for, that he was too blind in violence to see. He had trusted Soldier Boy with his life, gave everything to him, loved him with every burning instinct that he had. He betrayed Homelander for him, he embraced his darkest desires and got too close.
That’s why it felt like ripping out his heart from his chest when he took Soldier Boy’s power away from him, when he cast his desolate and broken body out into the fire because he was nothing but a traitor. A wrathful figure who liked subjecting his narcissism and abuse onto others until they bent a knee to him. They were attracted to each other’s violence and that was his biggest downfall. Noir II took everything from him. His power, his fame, the weapon he was going to use to kill his son still writhing its power inside of him like an entity of its own. The man that took away his predecessor's life away was now buried under the fucking ground and well Noir was left reeling from it all. The only surviving member of The Seven, making something out of his life because that’s the only thing he’s known to do best. To move on.
Noir’s eyes were drawn to the screen projecting his image, the audience consumed in anticipation and unfettered joy as his new film Black Noir: Back N Black held its worldwide premiere. A passion project, his first big break into the limelight ever since the fall of Homelander, representing the start of his solo career. An action caper packed with enough one liner clips and full throttle drop kicks that it would make Chuck Norris look like a prancing pony. The film follows Noir as he must fight his way out of the Mexican border as he goes through an accidental procedure that gives him the ability to speak and fly. Powers that he already possesses but the public never shows. The film was his chance to show a true side of him, that he was more than just a silent lapdog. The world was about to see who he really was and a part of Noir was scared of shedding his layers and showing his vulnerable side, that he has hidden away behind a mask is his greatest fear. He wants to give a part of himself to the entire audience and use the role of Noir as a way of inspiring others rather than casting fear into everyone’s hearts. In the way that Earving never got to do because his chances were ripped away from him.
The sounds of gunfire and the screams of dying henchmen fill the packed theatre as Noir slices and dices his way through the cartel. He avoids the gunfire by soaring into the sky like a rocket, swelling music following his departure. The crowd cheers at the sight of Noir taking his heroic stand as Noir II sits calmly in his chair, observing the audience’s reactions as his chest was filled with nothing but unbridled joy, to see the love and passion the critics and fans felt for his film. The tracks of tears formed in Noir’s eyes, his career only just reaching its pinnacle.
Noir II was in the sky, looking down at the cartel members he was about to crush with his feet like a bug. One of the henchmen cowers in fear, looking up at him like he was seeing a ghost for the first time. “What…what do you want?!” The henchmen cried, voice trembling with fear. Noir II looked down upon his cowardly enemy, showing no remorse for what he’s about to do.
“It’s Noirin’ Time, bitch!” Noir II declares, a line delivered with cadence and power as raw anger radiates from underneath his mask. His chest becomes consumed in an orange light and the henchmen and the rest of the building is engulfed in a fiery explosion. Sending clouds of smoke wafting through a vast Mexican desert.
The crowd breaks out into endless applause at the breath taking scene, expressing their love and devotion to Noir’s film, a project he had worked so hard to bring to life and it was all thanks to Stan Edgar. If he hadn’t followed his heart and ingested the revolver to take down Soldier Boy, then he would be nothing but his pet that he could sink his claws into. The ghost of him lingering in his heart like a haunted memory. Noir chose to forget it.
After the screening, Noir II was subjected to the raucous and loud afterparty, all dedicated to his name and the fearless craftsmanship he, the writers and the crew brought to Black N Black . Acting had always been a woven part in Noir’s heart and soul so to see celebrated made his heart melt into a steaming puddle. Floods of reporters and celebrities coming his way, begging for interviews or selfies to post on their Instagram pages for a million likes. It was ebullient to see the love people felt for his movie and for the first time, Noir II felt like he was really understood as a performer. He wasn’t the cold and violent killer Vought bred him to be, he was his own person who had chosen a different path, away from the bloodshed that he had let himself succumb to like a sick lover. He wasn’t a hero any more, he was using his powers for the common good to entertain as an actor because he wasn’t in the business of saving lives, because that power will only corrupt him and he cannot afford to have blood on his hands. He wasn’t going to be another colossal fuck up like his teammates.
Noir II sat at the table, a glass of champagne in hand as the sound of the rave music filled his ears, voices seeking his attention. Hungry executives willing to sign a contract with their next big star, producers, fellow actors inspired by his skill. Once in a while they began a blur in his head.
One of them, his manager Dick approached him, his smile as big as his charisma.
“Holy shit Noir….this reception has been eating up all fucking night! I’ve never been approached by so many big names in my entire career, even Tom Cruise wanted my number…can you imagine if you and I got involved in that scientology shit!!!” Dick’s voice was loud and rambling amid the brash party and Noir wondered why he couldn’t just keep it all in without getting his head smashed in by a hammer.
“I have high hopes about this one man…this is the breakthrough I’ve been waiting on for so long…I feel like I’ve finally made Noir my own, you know what I mean?!” Noir admitted, excitedly gesturing with his hands with every word spoken. Dick looked on very fondly, scrolling through his phone as he read through the many reviews cinema goers had written online. “You’re lucky your movie hasn’t become a cesspit for all those incel film bros because we’ve got a 97% score on Rotten Tomatoes…and it looks like the January Foundation made an endorsement of your movie…” Noir’s eyes went wide, Annie January really gave a damn about what he did outside of the superhero life. It stirred fond feelings in his gut, like he was slowly mending the bad relations in his life and making them whole again. Just one step at a time.
“Shut the fuck up!!?” Noir declared, trying to find the words to address his shock.
“I couldn’t have said it any better! Your film is making a cultural impact…we're the highest grossing levels of shit bro!!! Fuck Avatar bro!!!” Dick declared, loud and proud, with the exaggerated expressions of a madman.
“Yeah!!! Fuck Avatar bro…wait what?!” Noir’s face turned to Dick in amusement, not quite believing what he was hearing.
“I know, right bro?! We are making peak cinema right here!!!” Dick admitted, patting Noir in the back with all his strength. The sudden move taking Noir by surprise, he was really growing fond to Dick and his endearing ways. If he really wants to make his way through the big leagues with Soldier Boy’s powers in his system, he needs a friend like Dick on his side.
“Fuck yeah! In this world, we are bringing a new age of superheroes…not Homelander, not Starlight…we are! This movie is a cinematic achievement in film-making and we’re gonna make the whole world know it, you game with me bro?!” Dick asked in a clamorous tone, clammy hands gripping tight onto Noir’s shoulders. Noir nodded nervously, taking in his manager's excitable words with stride.
“Bro…we’re livin’ in it!” Noir muttered with the most enthusiasm he’s ever felt in his life, this was the film that was going to charter him into success and Edgar helped him get his acting on the map. His career wouldn’t have expanded to these wuthering heights if it wasn’t for Dick being at his side every step of the way. His nerdy manager and agent, selflessly scrambling to get Noir new roles or to keep his latest projects afloat. At Vought, all he’d known was creative meddling and how they resorted to judge the way he acted or talked, forcing him to pretend to dress up as someone he was not. Forced to wear a costume of a dead man all because Vought didn’t know how to clean up their mistakes. How to clean up Homelander’s mess who was one mental breakdown away from blowing up the fucking planet and that was what led to his downfall. Too many of his friends perished in the fight for dominance of a world that had gone to shit. It was peaceful now thanks to Annie January and The Boys and Noir never felt more free.
Going sick to his stomach every time he thought back to lodging that rock down his throat, allowing himself to become a radioactive bomb to take down someone he thought he loved. Someone who took advantage of his desires and used him to forward his control over the supe regime. But the age of fear and control was now gone, Noir didn’t have to worry about the risks he had taken. All that mattered was his acting career, gaining success one step at a time.
“Well drink’s on me bro! There’s this nice sports bar with cherry flavoured margaritas…you gotta try some!” Dick declared, jubilantly running towards the bar like a dazed rabbit as Noir found it hard to keep up with despite his superhuman reflexes. The after party was garnering more attention and soon enough Noir will be drowning in a sea of reporters and critics, their mouths filled with praise and eyes reflecting love for his film. Noir felt like he was a whole new man, a hero who had finally gotten the recognition he deserved, no longer standing in The Seven’s shadow. This was what success felt like and he could taste it like it was in the air he breathed.
The party was becoming difficult to navigate and Noir decided to go for a breather in the bathroom as the air within his mask was almost suffocating. Having to perform and wear it for most of the day felt like an attack on his lungs but it was becoming a part of him that he could never separate himself from. He could never forgive himself for the violence he inflicted in this costume but he has turned his life around, he has escaped that cycle and got everything he could ever want. He was an actor doing something meaningful with his career, there was no other direction he could see himself going without this mask and costume defining who he is.
He takes off his mask and stares at himself in the mirror, exhaustion and tiredness casting a weary shadow underneath his brow as he lets the sink run and washes his face. Bringing a sense of reality back to himself after allowing his identity to succumb to the ghostly form of Black Noir. A tireless press tour and acting gigs seems to do that to a supe. This is the life he had sought, what he had been desperate for since the very moment he stepped out of Godoklin’s walls, he wanted to make a name for himself, he wanted to show his friends and family that he had so much to the world to give and being Noir, using the costume as a way of silencing his voice, was the worst kind of performance he ever had to put on. He felt more like a puppet than a human being. But now this was his chance to make this identity of this cold masked supe his own, that he was more than a killer but a figure born and bred to entertain the masses. The world was safe, it didn’t need power to corrupt it. All it needed was someone to keep that peace going, Noir had it in his hands to inspire change and to shit on Vought’s shadow that was intent on hiding and silencing him for many years. Vought was no more and what towered in its remains was The January Foundation, destined to salvage a new generation of supes whose best interests were the protection and stability of the American people. No more bloodshed. No more crisis. No more control. All Noir had left was destiny in the palm of his hand and he was going to make it right, without violence of any kind.
Noir stood there for awhile, his reflection a haunted reminder of everything he was and what he once lost to the hands of cruel fate. His fingers gripped tight onto the white tiles until they damn near broke. Noir could feel his heartbeat, it was loud and sent waves of energy through his bones. His heart was rapid and crushing its way through his chest. He could still feel the resolver flow its power within him and it made him feel even less small. Like every step he took, he was on the verge of exploding. At least he could control it better than Soldier Boy ever could but how long before it lets it slip away and loses himself to this power of corruption. A mindless weapon. A bullet to an unloaded gun.
He could hear footsteps, slow and steady in the bathroom, the shadow making its impending moves towards him as Noir froze, reaching down to the knife stashed away in his pocket. Entire body trembled like an earthquake as the resolver’s power sizzled inside of his bones. Everyone knew it wasn’t best to sneak up on one of the world’s most stealthiest supes and besides, Noir wasn’t made for that kind of life anymore. He was just an actor wearing a suit, making it his own and a forever part of his identity. Hidden under lock and key by his new persona, who he was before lost and forgotten.
That feeling of familiarity and fear plagued Noir’s mind, trying to decipher what kind of asshole threatens to stalk him. Their presence is almost frightening, the earth around them standing still.
The figure came closer and soon enough Noir let his instinct take over as he spun around and pointed the knife at the man’s neck. In that moment, recognition stabbed him in the heart. There staring right through him like a ghost was Soldier Boy, albeit more broken and beaten then he’d ever seen him. His appearance more wrinkly and tired, features hidden by a worn denim cap and flannel, a camouflage against the world that hated and loathed his ass. Faces littered with scars, a jaded mask from the narcissistic and charismatic Soldier Boy he knew. A broken toy without his powers. He reached his hands out into the air like he was being arrested, sporting a jovial smile like he had been waiting on this moment for so long. Noir’s heart stopped beating in his chests, his walls crashing down. Soldier Boy was back and the horror at seeing his stupid fucking faces was too ghastly to describe.
“Hey there sweetheart…” Soldier Boy hissed, voice mighty and intimidating, tainted by the smell of whiskey and cocaine. “You seem slap happy to draw first blood!” Soldier Boy sounds too high spirited in a way that scares Noir. He could hide behind that charm forever but he had lost himself without his powers. He brought out his age and he was more of a grandpa than the selfless war hero he claimed to be. Noir can’t believe he used to idolise and jerk off to this guy’s picture in the shower because he was nothing more than a fucking bully who liked when people were below him rather than above him. He nearly sacrificed everything to put this guy into the fucking ground, he wasn’t about to lose it all when he came back here seeking his forgiveness.
“What the fuck are you doing here?!! Am I fucking dreaming?!!” Noir yelled, shaking and trembling at the sight of Soldier Boy as he laughed loud and croaky, keeping his distance from him. “Believe me there is times where I wish I wasn’t real…but here I fucking am!” Soldier Boy yells in his face. Noir stands there indifferently, pointing his knife straight at his throat, he didn’t even flinch.
“You think you can be a movie star…that you could take everything I have and become the spotlight’s poster child…I don’t have my fucking powers any more because you took them away from me…my last chance at pulverising my son into a bloody pulp…you took that chance from me…you don’t amount to shit…I’ll break all of your favourite toys and you’ll still come crying to me like the pussy you’ve always been…you don’t deserve to wear that mask and you never fucking will!!!” Soldier Boy’s words come out like piss on a carpet, poisoning and stabbing his heart all the same. Noir didn’t move, the anger arising in his chest.
“Shut the fuck up!!!?” Noir screamed, rage echoing from his voice. On the verge of breaking something if Soldier Boy opens his fucking mouth again. His hatred boiling in his chest to the point he’ll explode. Soldier Boy waits on his next action, venomous anger bleeding from his stone expression.
“What are you gonna do, kill me? I’m sure you’ll fucking try…because this isn’t my first time I’ve come face to face with a Black Noir and believe me…I love beating them until they’re black and blue in the face!” Soldier Boy hisses, words the stain of anger and pain. Begging for Noir to put a knife through his heart because it was better than living with all this self-loathing and agony, for being stripped of powers and left a broken laughing stock for the world to see. Noir had reduced him to that and he was going to pay the price for turning what they had between them into a shitshow to burn down.
Noir stands there frozen as a statue, expression shaken as Soldier Boy stares him down, wanting nothing more than to subject him to the worst kind of pain. “Come on monkey…let’s dance!” Soldier Boy screams in his face, expecting a reaction. Noir says nothing, wanting him out of his face but he can’t do anything to be free of him because Soldier Boy will always come back to haunt him. His acting career, everything he had built for himself, will just come crashing down.
Noir doesn’t do anything. He slips his knife into his pocket and begins to walk away, pretending Soldier Boy was nothing but a blur. A manifestation of his worst mistakes but the anger only built in his chest. Soldier Boy’s hands balled into fists, red in the face at the sight of someone he once loved, his worst enemy walking away from him because he had destroyed many things in his life and Noir was one of them. He couldn’t let him walk away, not after everything he has done. Soldier Boy had lost everything, his own chance at a family and it was all because of himself sabotaging everything. Soldier Boy can’t even make count of the times he spent in bars drowning his head in whiskey and sex until he had sleepless nights because that’s all he knew how to do. To forget about everything that was taken from him, to remind himself of the words that never failed to sink in.
Annie was right. There is people who want to be like you…who are inspired by you like you were hatched from the great eagle’s fucking nest but you drag people down and make them the worst versions of themselves…you ruin everything you touch!
He was everything his father hated. Someone too much of a disappointment to carry his name never mind his legacy until he buried himself in the grave. It was the fucking end of the line.
Without a second thought, Soldier Boy ran for Noir like an untamed bull, grabbing onto his shoulders until all he sees is his face staring back at him. The one hidden behind the mask that he hated more than anything. The one he dreaded to see every time he wanted a good fuck out of him. The kind of violence that deserted him.
Soldier Boy found himself blinded in his own rage and punched Noir in the jaw but as his hand was crushed upon impact and was sent crumbling into a twisted display of broken bone. Soldier Boy let out a raw scream, hindered by Noir’s superhuman strength, the power that he once possessed and got taken away from them. Bless fucking God that he even makes out alive of this shitty life without sticking a blade through his fucking skull first.
“God fucking dammit!!!!” Soldier Boy screamed from the depths of his lungs, his body writhing in agony on the broken floor as Noir was left to witness the broken mess he had allowed himself to become. He clutched onto his bleeding wrist, spitting out rageful words amid the pool of tears that fell from his eyes. “I’m not deserving of a fucking thing…dad was right…I took the fucking shortcut….I cheat out on everyone…” Soldier Boy cried, struggling to find the words, awash in his own sadness and grief. “I’m a fucking monster who doesn’t deserve a family…I ruin everything I touch…I’m just a fucking nobody…I’m a fucking cheater…”
Noir was left shaken, deciding whether to console Soldier Boy or to let him drown in his own sadness. A part of him felt pity for Soldier Boy, to see a once dignified hero become a broken mess of a man, who let power get in his hand and allowed himself to have it all taken away from him. He destroyed everything. Noir hated him with every fibre of his being he had but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had let everyone down. That keeping him alive was the worst mistake he had ever made. Soldier Boy needed to seek help.
Without a sound made, Noir put on his mask and stormed out of the bathroom, knowing that if he got close to Soldier Boy, if he reached out and pulled him out of that dark place, it would only reflect badly on him. He will ruin everything if he lets Soldier Boy back in. This spiral was only just beginning and soon enough there would be no escape from it…