The black Chevrolet tore through the city streets.
Butcher gripped the wheel, occasionally glancing at the young man in the passenger seat, who had his hand stretched out the window, letting the wind brush over it. He recalled their earlier conversation.
"Oi, how are you going to borrow Compound V? Do you even know the CEO of Vought?"
"No. Do I need to?"
"Butcher scoffed. "Heh, boy, are you serious? You think you can just waltz in and get something important? Those so-called superheroes are all jerks. Step inside, and you might not come back out."
"I can fly out."
Butcher went silent for a moment, speechless.
"Do you at least have a plan? How about I give you one? We start by planting listening devices."
"No need. I'll walk in, shatter Homelander's teeth, and Compound V will be borrowed."
Butcher realized something. This wasn't an ordinary kid; he was either naïvely reckless or genuinely powerful—like Soldier Boy. Now, driving the young man to Vought Tower, he couldn't help but feel uneasy.
"We're here." Butcher parked directly in front of the main entrance. He turned to Malrick, who was leaning casually against the seat back. "You can go in now."
"Thanks, Butcher. When I borrow the Compound V, I'll have a chance to fix that tumor in your head. I'll return the favor."
Malrick stepped out leisurely. It had been a while since he had ridden in a car; the last time was when Mordo picked him up at Kamar-Taj.
Butcher froze. "Who are you? How the hell do you know about my condition?"
Recently, to fight Homelander, Butcher had injected himself repeatedly with temporary Compound V stolen from Vought. While it granted him superpowers temporarily, the side effect was severe brain damage. Now a malignant tumor gnawed at his head, leaving him only three months to live.
"You were keeping that secret?" Malrick asked casually, pointing toward Butcher's head. "I could see it."
Butcher's eyes widened. "You saw it?"
Flying, X-ray vision… this kid wasn't just a naive superhero. Could he be some secret weapon sent to take down Homelander?
A chill ran down Butcher's spine. Once just a sharp, imposing man, he now seemed like a blood-rusted blade suddenly unsheathed, cold and lethal.
"Oi, to deal with those bastards, you need a professional, kid!"
Butcher threw the keys onto the seat, opened his door, and followed Malrick toward the tower.
---
Vought Tower's high-rise, The Seven's War Room.
The Seven, led by Homelander, represented the pinnacle of superhero achievement in Vought International's eyes—but the team was largely corrupt. Inside, Homelander, Black Noir, A-Train, and The Deep listened as Ashley introduced new member candidates.
Queen Maeve had recently 'died in battle,' and Starlight had betrayed them, leaving openings to fill.
Ashley, despite her CEO title, had no real authority in front of these superpowered brats. She presented a candidate's profile on the screen, only to be dismissed by A-Train and The Deep over trivial issues like looks, abilities, or minor personal choices.
Then, Ashley pulled up another candidate: a killer, a lunatic.
Homelander's gaze lingered, a smirk forming. "I kind of like him."
Immediately, the others shifted. The Deep, who previously dismissed candidates for superficial reasons, nodded with approval, emphasizing that this violent individual was misunderstood.
Homelander's impatience flared. He covered his forehead and muttered through gritted teeth, "I've had enough. You're either idiots or sycophants!"
Before he could continue, The Deep quickly chimed in, "Sorry, sir, it's just that all your views are correct and astounding!"
Everyone knew better than to challenge him. Those who did ended up six feet under, bones decomposed by microbes.
Homelander groaned in irritation. He needed someone smart, someone ruthless. The team? Useless.
Then, an idea struck him. A brutal smile crept across his face.
"Alright, The Deep, you go give A-Train a blowjob."
A-Train froze. "What?"
Ashley's jaw dropped.
"Move it. I won't say it a second time." Homelander commanded. "The Deep, unzip his fly, and do it. Ten times each."
The Deep looked between Homelander, Ashley, and A-Train, disbelief etched on his face. He hesitated, then braced himself and slowly stood, muttering, "S-stand up."
The War Room, filled with superheroes, witnessed an absurd and humiliating scene unfold—until the alarms went off.
"Intruder alert! Intruder alert!"
The five looked at each other in confusion. How could anyone breach Vought International?
Bang!
A superhero smashed backward through the conference room door, knocking over the table, unconscious. Two sets of footsteps followed: a casually dressed young man and a trench-coated Butcher.
Homelander's eyes narrowed. "Butcher?"
"Not me this time," Butcher said, a playful glint in his eyes, pointing at Malrick. "It's my temporary boss."
"Your… boss?" Homelander's eyes glowed red as he scrutinized Malrick.
"Ryan isn't here today, Butcher," he added.
"Let me tell you what's next—you and this kid you brought? Neither of you will walk out standing. Unless…"
Homelander paused, recalling his earlier, devious idea. A brutal grin spread across his face as he pointed at A-Train.
"Unless you do exactly as I say, ten times each."