The Grey Zone (Black Noir / The Boys Fan Fic)

Ch 19 The Lonely Hour

CONTENT WARNING: This chapter includes descriptions of violence and scenes of a sexual nature.

Black Noir gazed over the city from the top of Vought Tower as the sun finally rose. What a night.

He sat against the protruding broadcasting antennas that lined the top of the building as the wind whisked over him. Aside from the muffled traffic below, it was tranquil. Just how he liked it. There were few places to escape the rush in New York, but this one belonged to Black Noir. It was a place he came to be alone, truly alone. By climbing up to the summit of Vought Tower, he could be sure that his creepy co-worker Translucent wasn't following too. It was his place of peace. Free from Homelander's ego, free from Vought's annoying marketing team, no cameras, no interruptions. Just the open air.

The other supes would be getting ready for their morning briefing after a night's rest. Noir didn't have that luxury.

But he had experienced something better in his mind.

He was feeling distinctly proud of himself. From his point of view, he had now saved Jess' life twice and they'd 'worked together' to bring justice to someone deserving. Delusions of grandeur played out in his mind. He was the hero, she was his sidekick.

In reality, the word 'hero' would be a stretch. After showing Jess the exit, he had mutilated Russell's body. First, he had sliced off each fingertip. This would help avoid the body being identified. Then, using a larger knife from the sheath on his thigh, he diligently flicked out every tooth from Russell's skull. It was dirty work. He needed to ensure dental records wouldn't be used to identify the body in absence of the fingerprints.

Though it was unlikely that the body would be found. Black Noir had also taken it upon himself to rip the remains into pieces. He had placed one piece in every dumpster along the alleyway. It wouldn't be the first time a body had been lost to the trash compactors of New York and it surely wouldn't be the last.

There was one souvenir that he kept. Russell Lennox's ID. Noir held on to it as a way to commemorate their first case together. He hoped it would be the first of many.

Once he had finished, he left the scene. He wasted no time on the gunman. Whoever it was didn't like the Police, so he could count on them not to talk. That was the hierarchy in America these days. Members of the public were more afraid of Supes than law enforcement.

Instead of heading over to Vought's triage team to remove the shotgun shrapnel and slip into a fresh suit, he had headed to his spot of solitude to revel in his successful evening. The once bloody holes in his suit now exposed hints of almost healed skin. Noir had picked the biggest pieces of shrapnel out by hand and let his skin graft over the rest. A problem for another time.

For now, he wanted to celebrate by doing something he'd hadn't done in years.

Sitting at the base of the broadcasting antenna, with no one else around. He unclasped the outer jockstrap from his outfit. The sudden release led to a long-awaited exhale. Black Noir saw his body as a tool for other people. That's what was drummed into him, so he rarely took pleasure from his own self. With his adrenalin still high from the night he'd had with Jess, he couldn't keep his desires suppressed.

As New York rose for a new day, so did he.

Noir sat against the antenna, pulling down his neoprene leggings just enough to expose his most private parts.

For a moment he was unsure of where to start. It had been so long since he had felt the touch of another, or himself. When he first joined The Seven, people would throw themselves at him. There was even a yearly retreat for Supes to meet others of their kind that he participated in annually but it soon became boring to him.