#VENGEANCE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thesilmarillionblog · 6 months ago

Text

IMPOSTOR

Summary: Black Noir discovers he has been replaced after he wakes up from his two-month stay at Vought Hospital. He doesn't take it well.

Characters: Black Noir, Fake Black Noir from The Boys (TV) Season 4

Warnings: Violence, language, soft Black Noir, brutal Black Noir

Word Count: 1551

A/N: English is not my first language.

͟͟͞͞➳ This fiction is a gentle fuck you to E. Kripke. New Noir is not my Noir. I love Nathan Mitchell a lot, though. Babygirl. ✨

A deep sense of sorrow and suffering overcame Noir as he used his gloved hands to rub the long scars on his abdomen. Homelander, whom he considered a friend, had nearly killed him just because Noir hadn't informed him about his biological father, Soldier Boy. Since they had been keeping this a secret for decades, Vought wouldn't be grateful if Noir told a thing. Though he didn't intend to break Homelander's heart, he had struck him so hard in the stomach that he could see his organs everywhere. He felt, nonetheless, that he handled confronting his past quite nicely.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard that the CIA had captured Soldier Boy once more. Decades later, when the time came, he was not sure if he would see him face-to-face, but he knew he would be prepared.

He feared he would die there, too, when Homelander buried his full fist in his abdomen, but unexpectedly, Homelander gave him a lecture about friendship and honesty before giving him a significant dose of Comp-V in order to save him. Noir knew that, beyond his strange idea of his friendship, Homelander was really furious and disappointed with him. That is why he forgave Homelander as just like he forgave Noir.

Noir spent months in the Vought Hospital before preparing to rejoin the team.

Ashley whispered, “Sir,” as Noir continued to stare at her expressionlessly. Ashley had a nervous smile on her face. “I think I must inform you that you are replaced by someone else.”

Noir straightened abruptly, moving in closer to Ashley to get her to clarify exactly what she was telling him. He let out an irate sigh and waited for her to go on.

“The public was asking about you, and to not make things anymore complicated, Vought decided to take a new Noir into the team, looking just like you.”

Noir thought, Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was unfair. Fuck Vought and everyone.

That was not only impossible but also a massive betrayal of his complete allegiance to Vought. He had served the company for years, and that was how they repaid him.

Noir began to inhale in rage as Ashley left the room swiftly without saying anything further. He wouldn't allow a fake to lead those who supported him to believe he was the real Noir. The true Noir was Black Noir. End of discussion.

Picking up his phone, he sat down in the middle of the hallway to see the latest news and check the most recent updates about himself.

He snarled with hatred as he saw his own supporters applauding the imposter while he was acting foolishly in front of the camera. They had no idea that he had suffered greatly in the previous few months and had experienced a near-death experience. How could they not see that it was obviously not him?

Noir lost all patience with the nonsense and smashed the phone between his hands violently. He then placed his hands on his head and considered the next step of action. He would not give in so easily. Noir would absolutely teach the false one how to act appropriately in public, as it was evident that he didn't know how.

He looked up and saw that one of his duck friends was clutching his hand.

“You were incredibly brave and strong to withstand such an attack from Homelander. We are all proud of you,” he replied, giving him a shoulder pat.

Noir crossed his arms and looked away. No matter what, he wasn't satisfied with the circumstances surrounding him.

“Come on,” his friend said, giving him another leg squeeze. “The new one is not as good as you, and you can prove everyone that.”

How? Noir pondered, unsure of what to do. Things would get much messier if he disobeyed Vought, and he really didn't need that at this point.

“You embody the true spirit of Black Noir, while he lacks your strength and bravery. Given your current state of recovery, Vought wouldn't have any problem if you told him to move aside.”

No, Noir thought. Today, he was going to expose that fraud and prove to everyone who was superior. He would never permit somebody to behave in such a way. He was adored by everyone for his true self. He refused to give up all the adoration he had and rightfully earned.

His friend sat by his side and said, “If you kill him, don't you think Vought will get angry at you?”

They won't give a damn. They never do anything if the company is involved. Noir did not know a life outside of Vought and Homelander, so even though he was terrified of them, he reasoned that one act of disobedience wouldn't harm anyone and that no one would give a shit.

Noir made up his mind then and there, dropping his damaged phone to the ground as his friend passed by.

He said, “I'm so proud of you,” and then he vanished once more. Noir felt joy and satisfaction fill his heart. He was confident that he could handle this circumstance as needed. Just like he always did.

Noir waited for fraud to appear in his home for hours while tracking and waiting in a shadowy place after sharpening his knives and weapons. Admittedly, he was a little dramatic, but he knew it would be effective.

When the new one eventually came inside the house after many hours, the fake one noticed something wasn't quite right. An odd fragrance permeated the entire place. Then Noir emerged from his hiding place, his blades sharpened in his palm, and wandered slowly in front of the window, the moonlight brushing over his helmet. He was satisfied that his entrance proceeded exactly as he had planned and knew he looked fine and cool enough.

“You are a strange one, dude; fuck off,” the man laughed. “If you just gave me a call, I'd have invited you, you know.”

‘What a bitch’ Noir thought to himself, growing more irate as the new guy spoke without pausing.

“Heard Homelander beat the shit out of you.” He inquired, “How did you even survive?” Noir stopped pacing and glanced at him. His wounds hurt when Homelander was brought up; he remembered all those painful memories.

Noir tucked his knives away in the back of his suit and showed him the papers he had prepared, telling him the one on which he had written ‘now I kiill you.’

“Man, fuck you. You're not as scary as you believe, and you're forgetting that, despite the fact that I am a supe, Vought purposefully picked me.”

Noir laughed beneath his mask, but his laughter was more of a fury than an expression of joy. Next, he handed the new one another piece of paper and said, “Nobody nevv me. I am unigue.”

He firmly challenged him, saying, “I'm not the new you,” which wasn't a wise move given Noir's desire for a real fight. After all, he spent his months doing nothing but lying in bed; he was hungry for a proper fight. “I'm superior to you in some way. People adore me.”

It's me they love, not you.

“Guess we have to solve this fucking mess fist to fist, man to man, huh?”

Noir, unable to contain his resentment and hatred any longer, grabbed his knives and swiftly assaulted the impostor. Noir laughed this time because he could feel the fake one's anxiety and tense breathing. He was certain that he would be too strong for this feeble con artist.

He made an attempt to fight Noir with his pathetic fists, but Noir knew that man was much weaker than expected, so he dropped his knives and took the man's head, ripping it from his body in one motion. He was holding his bloody head in his palm, his entire suit smeared with blood. He placed one hand on his hips, and, for a time, he was unable to stop grinning beneath his mask. Vought found him specifically for the weakest man alive. Or not anymore.

Noir put his head down on his desk and peered expectantly into Stan Edgar's eyes, displaying all of his brutality and pleading with him to return to Seven immediately. Enough time had passed.

“What the hell, Noir?” With a disgusted mutter, Edgar averted his gaze from the bloodied head. “Get this thing out of my sight, oh god.”

Noir remained motionless, waiting for him to make a statement.

“You're back to Seven, okay. Are you happy now?” He said it hastily. “I was already going to kick him out, you sick maniac fuck.”

Noir nodded to Edgar, took the head back off his table, breathed a peaceful sigh, and exited the room, placing the lifeless head in the closest container.

That is where you end your head up if you fuck with him.

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A/N: Here's my other Black Noir fics: Stranger and In the Middle of the Night. Stay tuned for more and let me know what you think!˖ ࣪ .♡˚.