Five minutes later, you’re starting to piece together this Black Noir isn’t Earving. 

Even before he spoke, you should have seen the signs. He’s usually so quiet when he comes inside, you barely hear footsteps before he’s right next to you. He never jolts or flinches or sways. Earving’s movements are often robotic and machine-like. 

The talking however, is the biggest giveaway. 

“-So, this guy lives in some creepy-ass bunker and he also has some random living with him, too? The lack of direction in this role. I’m telling you.” 

You quietly sit on the sofa as Not-Earving paces around the living room. You hadn’t spoken, partially because you were trying to figure things out yourself and why this Not-Earving was in the role your captor once had. 

“You’re an actor?” You finally decided on. It was the first thing you pieced together from his ramblings. 

He pauses his pacing. You can feel him stare at you through the mask. Instinctively, you shift your eyes down. 

“Uh, yeah,” he finally says, seeming to calm down. “Vought hired me to replace him but…I gotta’ be honest. The more I learn about the guy, the more confused I get and–hold on do you mind if I–” 

He pulls off his mask with a relieved sigh. 

You stare. You didn’t mean to stare. You couldn’t help himself. Earving was always so secretive of his face. He never took off his mask, not even with you. Some nights, when the lights were off and you were half-asleep, you swear the face pressed into your neck was unclothed and marred on one side–like a bad burn. 

“That’s so much better,” he says. “No idea how anyone breathed in that thing. I still can’t believe they made me cover up my face. It’s the money-maker.” 

He was handsome. You couldn’t deny it. If you saw him in the street, you might have wanted to track him down and beg for his phone number. You wondered if Earving was that type of handsome. 

“Do you know what happened to him?” You ask. “To Earving, I mean.” 

He looks at you. “That’s his name?” He makes a face. “I didn’t even know he had a name. Everything about this guy is a complete mystery. No one told me why he lives in a Dojo apartment at Vought. Is he Japanese? Am I supposed to learn Japanese?” 

“It was a marketing tactic,” you find yourself saying, “Vought thought his brand would be more cohesive, with the suit and all that.” 

You used to live at the Vought apartment, in the beginning. You should have appreciated how nice you had it back then. It was a cage, just like this bunker, but you had a semblance of freedom. You would see hints of people that weren’t just your captor. The city would glow right underneath you. Earving moved you when Homelander complained about hearing you cry through the walls at night. 

Compared to the apartment, the bunker is plainer, sparser. It’s like an empty dorm that hasn’t been decorated yet. Plain and sterile and so much like Noir once acted. 

The Noir II stares at you. You fiddle with your thumbs. 

“You know a lot about this guy,” he says. “Tell me about him. What’s he like? What are his hobbies? What does he do for fun?” 

“What?” You say, dumbly. 

“I have no idea who this guy is.” He complained. “I need some type of guidance–something to know I’m doing the role justice.” 

You want to ask for his help. You want to ask him to get that chip Earving put in your neck all those years ago. You want to ask him to call the police. 

When you glance down, you see the dagger Earving liked to play with strapped right on Noir II hip. It was bloody. 

You swallow. 

“Okay. I…okay.” 

~ 

Noir II was more punctual than Earving. 

He was typically back in the evenings, unlike his predecessor, who’d often spend nights away. Perhaps it’s because Noir II wasn’t a trained assassin sent around the globe to carry out Vought’s dirty work. 

That thought gave you more relief. If he was a lot less dangerous than Earving, you shouldn’t be as afraid, then. 

Noir II was more friendly. This should be easier then, right? Noir II was constantly talking and talking, and he consistently said he got berated for it by the other Supes. He was nicer. 

Truth be told, you tried to have this discussion with him numerous times. Each time you’d try, your words would fail, your throat would simmer back in your chest. Noir II would talk about how annoying Ashley was or how he hated the newest team up and you would sit there and nod. 

A part of you tried to dismiss his avoidance of the topic as obliviousness. Maybe he genuinely didn’t realize what was happening? Maybe he didn’t know you were here against your will? He never once asked what Earving was doing keeping you down here, if you wanted to go outside. After all, it’s not like you were kept in chains or screaming for help. 

Yeah, he was just oblivious. You’d talk to him about it, today. 

You wouldn’t fumble around anymore. Tonight would be the last night you stayed in this damn bunker. 

“I really gotta’ thank you,” Noir II says later that night. “I think I’m finally reaching a breakthrough to really get this character.”

His mask was off, but he was in his usual black armor as he talked to you. You were in the kitchen, working on dinner. Earving preferred less strenuous foods. Plain, for nourishment only. Canned beans, slightly stale bread. Something he can eat and get energy from. 

Noir II liked richer foods. Some days, he’d bring home pizza or take out. He brought groceries on other days. You were able to play around with fresh fruit and vegetables rather than canned food and nearly expired bread. 

It is a nice gesture, but you want to buy your own groceries and make your own purchases. 

You want to go home. 

You steel your nerves and place down the knife. The onion rests on the cutting board, abandoned. 

“Seriously,” he continues, “Homelander hasn’t yelled at me in like…a month. That’s crazy.” 

You feign a smile. 

“I’m glad,” you respond, “I’m…happy things worked out for you.” 

He's saying something about how he finally worked things out with upper management, when you can’t hold back any longer. 

“Noir?” You ask. It felt wrong on your tongue. 

“Justin.” You speak his real name. He stills at your voice. 

You adjust your shoulder, baring your neck. 

“There’s this…chip right below my neck.” You weren’t awake when Earving put it in, but you could feel it in the weeks after. Even your body knew how foreign it was. “It shocks me if I get close to the door. Could you maybe…remove it?” 

He says nothing. For once, you’re the one rambling. 

“If you can’t, then…could you call my family? The police? Or–or maybe the people at Vought. I’ll sign as many NDAs as they want me to. I’ll never breathe a word about this. I just…I just want to leave. Please?” 

You could almost taste it on your tongue. Freedom was a door away, and Noir–Justin could make it happen for you. He wasn’t like Earving, he wasn’t like—

“Why?” 

His head was tilted like a child with idle curiosity watching an ant. 

Something dies inside your chest. Your smile becomes more forced. 

You give a helpless shrug. “I want to leave,” you finally say the words out loud, “I want to go home back to my family. I–I don’t even think they know if I’m alive. Just…” 

He cracks his neck. You can hear the pop, clear as day inside the still and silent bunker.  

“But, why?” He repeats. “Things are going so well for us right now. My career is skyrocketing. People love our act.” 

“Act?” You repeat. “But–but I’m not acting this is–” 

Kidnapping, torture, dehumanization. Whatever words you wanted to say died in your throat the moment he took his first step to you. Then another. Then another. You’re forced to press up against the counter, shrinking against him. 

He’s taller than Earving. Not by much, but it’s easier to see when he’s inches away from you like this. A gloved hand–Earving’s gloves– reaches out to softly touch your face, tracing the side of your cheek. 

“Back at God U, my favorite performing arts professor had this really neat trick to get us warmed up. He told us to have a thing that kept us grounded, but something your character would also keep. It could be an eraser, an action figure. I think for me…that thing is you.” 

Your vision blurred, but you think he started to smile. 

“I think you were that thing to him, too. I mean, why else would he keep you? This shithole has nothing but a few drawings and then..you. That’s got to mean something, right? I think it does.” 

You can hear your heartbeat. It pounds through his ears. You wonder if he can hear it too. You wonder if he can see every emotion flickering through your eyes as you silently plead him to let you go. 

“I think I’m starting to get it now.” Fingers trace down to your throat. A thumb pressure just below where the chip would be. “I think…I’m really starting to get it.” 

There’s a hitched breath before he’s turning away. He shakes his head with a laugh. You remain in your position, curled up in the counter as you stare at him. 

“Fuck.” He curses, but he doesn’t sound upset. “We messed up the scene.” 

“The scene…?” You ask, warily. 

“I’m not supposed to speak, remember?” He reminds you. “And you aren’t supposed to call me that name.” 

Black Noir dons his mask, straightening it across his face. He backs away. 

“Okay,” he says, “We’re gonna redo that part

You know the line "Every girls first love is her father"? Well that describes you and Nolan to a T. You admired him deeply, always crying whenever he had to go away or staying up super late just to get a kiss goodnight.

Of course.. the counterpart to that phrase is "every girls first heartbreak is her father" but I don't wanna get TOO ahead of myself here!

For the first years of your life, you were treated fairly- hell even spoiled. Until bullies had made you their target in grade school when you were seven, they were older kids, and you desperately wanted their approval as they were the cool kids group ((in your eyes))

They never hit you, but they might as well had anyways. Their words were the first peak that the world wasn't as nice as your parents had made it out to be. Debbie was the first to catch onto this issue, and asking Mark gave her no answers, but she had noticed all too late, and by the time other people noticed your change, you had been worn down.

Debbie told Nolan one night after dinner, at first Nolan didn't believe it. Surely there was no way you were being bullied, you would've said something. He's your protector. ((he's still learning the ways of earth and humans,, sigh))

When he went to go tuck you into bed, he found that you had done it yourself. Even turning off the lamp which you had always left on, it was a silent communication that you were waiting for a good-night kiss.

Debbie has only ever seen Nolan cry two times. Both were at the birth of his children but that night, she could've sworn that he was just about to let the tears fall. They talk more extensively that night, making a plan. Nolan would take you out on a father-daughter date at the zoo, and Debbie would talk to the school about the bullying after dropping Mark off for the day.

You were so happy that day, squealing as you feed a giraffe some leaves, Nolan hanging onto you so you don't get lifted by the animal. Spending extra time looking at the zebras, cringing at the monkies as you quickly walk by.

When you made it to the reptile section, you marveled the creatures, pointing through the bars at a large and odd crocodile.

"look daddy- look!! It's a croc-ah-dile!" You hold his large hand, looking back at him to make sure he's looking but he's focused on something else, eyebrows furrowed.

"daddy!!" You whine, grabbing onto his wrist now, suddenly feeling neglected but just as fast as that feeling came, dread took over. The hairs rise on the back of your neck, a zip of eletricity runs up your spine as your eyes widen.

Screams begin to erupt, and an explosions burns your skin, blowing your tiny body into the crocodile exhibit. Nolan was shocked by the explosion, more than anything, if anything a bit peeved.

He heard the classic cackle of the Queen Lizard, his eyes widening as his nostrils flared. He looked back towards the source of the sound, dust and debris still flying in the air, making a thick fog across the zoo, he flexed his fists, a horrid realizition hits him.

you're not beside him.

He looks around, stepping over bodies as he yells your name, his toes meet an edge, where the bars of the exhibit once stood, now bent out of shape. He squints through the fog,

You were struggling under someone- pawing at their large arms, wind pipe being crushed under their hands. Everytime you tried to squirm, he pushed you down deeper into the ground, creating a hole under the both of you- the pressure builds behind your eyes, broken fingers trying to claw at the thick skin,

"da-da-" the words die in your throat as blood bubbles out of your mouth in a pathetic attempt of a cough.

Warmth paints your face and the hands choking you weaken, behind the monster ((the large and odd crocodile who was actually just a large and reptile-skinned man)) stood your father, there were no emotions on his face,

your eyes trail down and widen at the sight of your own fathers hand pierced through the monster, looking back up at the face of the attacker, he spits blood up on you before finallly going limp, hanging on the first of your father.

Nolan quickly throws the body aside, kneeling down by your side, fear gripping his heart. You were hurt, and bad.

He took you to a place where he knew you would be taken care of, no questions asked.

The GDA medical ward.

All i'm thinking of he doesn't have the decency to use doors, crashing down through the roof, holding your frail body as you cough blood up, screaming- NO, bellowing- for help.

Cecil's quickly informed of the newly developing situation just across the building. He had no idea omni-man was at the same zoo that the Lizard League just attacked. ((thank you prince lizard, it was one of ideas.))

You were hanging on deaths door, emerengcy surgery was performed to remove a piece of rebar from your torso, set your fingers back, and drained the hematomas forming in your brain.

It's easy to say that you weren't the same for a long long time after that.

You went through intense therapy, provided by the GDA, and hell- even met Cecil whilst in the hospital bed, you didn't really understand what he did or who he was, but you trusted him because he reassured your parents that you had the best doctors avaliable.

Mark doesn't really understand what happened, only a year or two older than you. He just knows you got hurt and that made him sad, and angry.

Your grades dropped drastically after coming home from the hospital, still attending therapy every week, they eventually switched you to online schooling which helped and also didn't.

Nolan started to baby you even more, treating you like glass. If you were clingy before, you were even worse now. You'd wake up with night terrors, screaming in pure horror, unable to communicate that you saw your dads fist driven through the mosnter every time you closed your eyes.

After a couple years, you became aware of how much of a burden you felt you were becoming, you felt.. broken. Debbie finally pulled the plug on online schooling, putting you back in public school.

You still were recluse but you finally befriended some people who also related to your reclusivity.

Also, you were still clingy. You would cuddle into Nolans side during movie night, and if he wasn't there, then it was Debbie or Mark. Your poor brother, he was often embarrassed when he had to hold your hand in public, enforced by your father of course.

You actually got your powers the summer before Mark got his powers, dad started to pay attention to you heavily but you didn't mind, you bloomed under his care. Though he discovered one thing, you were evidiently.. weaker.

He could barely push you to work harder on your powers without you crumbling under his gaze, running to your mother with tears running down your cheeks.

Despite that, you did start to come out of your shell, Debbie was so happy to see that after almost a decade, you were finally coming back to her as her the sunny child she knew a long time ago.

Then Mark got his powers and he began heroing, and that made you want to be one too but despite the training and the suit that was made for you, you couldn't keep up with your father and mark, so you happily became your mommys girl again. Letting her shower you even more with affection, making up for all the years that you had ducked away from it.

The events of season 1 happen of course, so lets time skip to the angstier parts.

When you woke up that day, you didn't expect to wake up to your mother kicking your father out of the house, and him actually listening- only to go through the roof instead. Almost tripping down the stairs with how fast you are as you rush to your moms side, following her as she grabs her phone- desperately trying to call Mark.

"Mom what's going on?" You followed after her pacing, gasping with her as men in dark suits just appeared out of thin air, guns pointing up at the hole your father created. You hide behind your mom as another Donald comes into view, he calls out for the both of you, insisting that you go with him.

Within the hour you find yourself at the GDA, the place that had been starting to become increasing familiar. You followed your mother closely, grasping at the back of her shirt.

Donald gestures, letting your mother towards the doors first- they slide open, revealing a cacophony of scrambling agents, all furiously typing and running across the room.

Your head starts to feel fuzzy as you step in, a lump forms in your throat. Looking at the big screen, you realize that theyre trakcing your father, a bit of hope flickers, maybe he's okay? maybe-

"Nolan killed the guardians of the globe."

Those words stop any sounds from reaching you, chest getting tight as you turn towards your mother. Watching her slap Cecil, angry at him as she speaks more but it was like there was a stone wall blocking any noise.

The next minutes are a blur as you look back at the screen, not registering your mother grabbing hold of your hand, you watch as he goes back to the house, only to realize that it was swarming with GDA agents. The scenes bring bile up to your throat, slapping a hand across your mouth to keep you from blowing chow on the back of some poor persons head.

You can only watch in horror as the same man that would toss you into the air like you were three at thirteen desecrate your childhood home with blood and guts, the same home where you fell asleep in his arms, the same room that you would learn to walk in.. the same house you grew up in.

Debbie quickly draws you into her arms, shielding your from the screen but it was too late. The noise of an explosion coming from the speakers of the room is your welcoming back into the world of hearing. Hugging yourself as you cry in your moms arms, you didn't know who your father was anymore.

You think that was bad? Now imagine watching your father slice through Immortal, you thought was dead, with a swipe of his hand. your throat goes dry as the image of him doing the same thing to that lizard league villian, the warm blood that splatter across your face. "What about mom? what about y/n?!" Mark cries out,

"Mark.. your sister.. she may need some time but she will join us, and your mother? she's more like a.. pet to me"

For a few helpless minutes, you watch as your father throws Mark around like a ragdoll. You've stepped away from Debbie, heart pounding, watching as your brothers tracker flies farther and farther, with your father not far behind.

Seeing your brother crash through multiple buildings in Chicago, creating a path of destruction is what made you desperate to stop this, to save your brother.

The chaos of the room covers your escape, and your absence is only noticed when it's too late.

"Sir? Where's.." Donald's words trail off and finally, Debbie notices that you're gone.. and she doesn't know for how long, the horror and dread that grasps at her body makes her freeze, unable to cry or make a sound. Her daughter was gone.

By the time you make it to Chicago, you just barely make the sight of Mark being thrown high up in the air, your dad flying after him. You fly after them, body straining to keep up and eventually you do, tackling your fathers side and throwing him off balance.

"dad! Please, stop this!" You plead with him as you spin around in the orange sky, looking up at him as your tears frame your cheeks, "please you can still stop!"

His eyes are bloodshot as he stares down at you, for a moment with no emotions before a sliver of remorse flickers in his eyes. "oh my sweet girl-"

in the distance Mark scream, speeding at Nolans back with his fist out right.

your father grabs the back of your neck, turning you both around towards mark- All in one fluid motion. Effectively using you as a shield,

Marks fist stops mere inches from your face, the silence makes your ears ring.

"Let her go." Mark growls but it's miserable, the blood making his voice gurgle.

"Mark.. mark.." All you can do is whimper as you struggle in your dads hold, hands reaching back and sinking your nails into his wrist. A sigh comes from Nolan, a truly annoyed sigh.

"You made me do this."

Neither you or Mark have the time to react as your father uses you as a weapon, reeling back and throwing you against Mark, punching your back and sending you both flying.

Now he treated you both as punching bags, flying back n forth, easily being able to hit you both back n forth- as if driving in the point that he's stronger and faster.

"I was wrong to raise you both as humans, i should've prepared you better, taught you more. Your lives have been soft and painless, your both viltrumites in blood only." He holds you both up by your collars, Mark pants heavily and you can barely do so with your multiple broken ribs. "well, your true educations start, now."

At some point as he flies you both to the surface, sonic booms thundering behind him, you black out.

You wake up at the bottom of the ocean, the air leaving your lungs as he slams you both into the ocean floor- you grab at your throat, water sucking into your lungs as your father floated there as if it didn't affect him one bit.

Just as quickly you and your brother met the surface of the sea, you were grabbed and flown out. Coughing up water as you grip onto your fathers shoulder, fingers bunching up the fabric of his suit.

"dad- dad stop!!" You plead but its interrupted as another scream rips through your throat as the sight of your dad throwing Mark into a mountain, you plead and beg with him as he floats down to your brother.

"dad, dad! Daddy-" His grip on you tightens, his head snapping to you. You're only allowed a second of regret before he, too, throws you.

barely holding onto the light, you watch as Nolan punches Marks limp body, triggering a land slide and as you expect to be buried under the snow too- your dad picks you up mere seconsd before it blankets you.

He handles you like a disgruntled mother cat, holding you by the back of your shirt, as he searches for your brother in the snow. You did as well, heart squeezing with fear as each limb that pokes out isnt your brothers.

Eventually, Mark is found, and still he found the power to resist your father.

"I'm ready when you are."

He uses your body once again as a weapon, seing you and Mark flying into another mountain range. You hear how marks ribs crack under your weight,

You roll off of your brother, grasping onto the earth, murmuring gentle cries for your mother. You yelp as your dad lands at the feet of you two, shaking the mountain with his power. You throw your hands up in surrendur, or.. at least the non-broken one. you give. You wave your metaphorical white flag.

His sights set on Mark, and all you can do is helplessly watch as your father beats your brother into a pulp as he screams at him. The crater deepening with each punch, soon Mark becomes unrecognizable- your sobs turn animalistic, your unable to move your broken legs, the words your father uses breaks your heart more- as if it could be. You were nothing to him. just a pawn in his long drawn out game,

After awhile, Nolan stops before dropping to Marks side, laying inbetween you and Mark, breathing deeply as he composes himself. As he stands back up, you prepare for more, you realize that your brother will die before your eyes.

"Why did you make me do this?!" Nolan screams, "You are fighting so you can watch everyone around you die! Think mark," his words make you flinch, his voice ragged- "you will outlast every fragile insignicant being on this planet, you'll live to see this planet crumble to dust and blow away!"

You start to quietly sob again, watching as Mark doesn't stand back up this time,

"Everything and everyone you know will be gone! What will you have after 500 years?!"

"you, dad." Mark manages to murmur, "i'd still have you." Mark gurgles in pain, eyes swollen shut- "Dad?"

You watch as your father winces in pain, fighting with himself as he looks at the blood on his hands.. the blood of his children.

Then he's gone.

Silence is all that surronds you and for awhile, you wait for your dad to return, thinking he was climbing in altitude solely to finsih you both off with one spectacular punch.

Execpt he doesn't.

With pain sobs and whimpers, you manage to shuffle closer to mark, reaching out with your good hand to wipe his tears away. He lets out a wet cough,

"Marky.." You whisper, teeth gritting as you try to fight the next sob, " it's okay.. i'm right here.." your voice is raw from the screams, you lay your head on his chest tenderly, arm draping across his waist, as him trying to be his shield.

Eventually you both lose conciousness but as your eyes flutter shut for what you believe is the last time, you swear you feel a hand grasp your shoulder.

You wake up again in the hospital, body aching as the bright lights sting your eyes. As you try to look away, you catch glimpse of Mark who was also in a bed besides you, but the stinging pain in your neck makes you cry out.

"Shh, shh!" Your mother reaches out for you, "don't talk.. You're safe." She watches as you reach out for Mark, arm shaking as tears fill your eyes.

"It's okay, sweetie, he's okay." She presses her lips to your forehead as you start to cry, she gathers your outreached hand in hers, interlocking your fingers as she comforts you.

You look at your mom, through bruised eyesockets, your lips wobble as the tears sting your cheek.

It's like a decade had never passed, and you were still seven, stuck in the GDA hospital.

holy fuck i dont know where this came from. I might write some fluffier headcanons, but i had to to get the angst out of my system.