You’re life was tedious growing up. Nothing too good, nothing too bad, nothing special. Word got out Vought was accepting new teenage applicants for Compound V experiments, testing what mid-adolescence could do to the development of powers and such. A fairly sketchy experiment in legal terms when you think about it. However, Vought was the biggest and brightest, parents wanted their kids to honor their country.

You find yourself signing your name and contact information on the sheet. It’s like time slowed down and your view zoomed out, watching in 3rd person perspective as you make the worst decision of your life. The dying black ballpoint pen scrawling out a slowly fading print of your name. A name that would be drawn at random.

Compound V pumped in your veins, and you resented them and yourself for not reading the fine print. Crying out stop mid experiment did nothing, the scientists didn’t even flinch. They’d keep going till even they became concerned they were pushing you to the brink of cessation.

Despite the torment, you trudged through. You were strong without a doubt. The Boys know this. Slowly but surely they’re building up a peculiar little assembly. Including the most peculiar addition Soldier Boy.

When Butcher busts open the lab door, finding you in white padded room just recovering from the latest experiment and injection—Ben’s eyes zero in on you. “Well, fuck…” He murmurs. You were just a kid. A teenager getting roped into this bullshit just like he did. Voluntarily until it was too damn late to back out with your tail between your legs.

He sees a bit of himself in your stance. What he used to be, how his father made him feel, how Vought used to make him feel. Being oh so strong and still feeling weak. It’s been a long time since Ben’s felt any semblance of sympathy, but looking at you he feels an uncomfortable pluck at his heartstrings.

“Alright pipsqueak, we’re here to get you outta here.” He says brusquely, maintaining his stone-faced facade.