"The word 'former' also means something," Ethan said calmly.
The implication landed instantly. Butcher's expression shifted for the briefest second, and that was enough.
Hughie stared at him in disbelief. His face drained of color as understanding finally clicked. He grabbed at his hair, voice cracking. "Oh my God. I just helped kill someone with some random guy pretending to be FBI? No warrant, no investigation, nothing. I actually believed you?"
"I'll explain later," Butcher snapped, clearly irritated. "Now's not the time."
He stepped forward abruptly and reached for Ethan's phone, intending to snatch it out of his hand. But before his fingers could close around it, his wrist was seized midair.
The grip was iron.
Butcher's eyes widened slightly. He was strong, trained, used to overpowering most men in close quarters. The person in front of him didn't look especially muscular, yet the pressure around his wrist made it clear he wasn't winning that contest.
Butcher exhaled sharply through his nose. "Right. Of course. Another one."
It didn't take long for him to connect the dots. That kind of strength wasn't normal.
Hughie blinked between them. "Wait. He's… what? He's one of them too?"
Butcher kept his gaze locked forward. "He's not with Vought," he said after a moment. "I'd bet on that. So what exactly do you want?"
Ethan released his wrist and lowered the phone slightly, but didn't pocket it. "Simple. I want to kill him myself."
Butcher let out a short, humorless laugh. "You're a bit late for that. We already took care of him."
Ethan tilted his head toward the trunk. "He's not dead. You stunned him. That's different."
Butcher hesitated for half a second, then walked to the rear of the car and popped the trunk. He checked the pulse carefully.
Still alive.
"Bloody hell," he muttered, grabbing zip ties from the back and securing the Invisible Man more tightly. He shut the trunk and faced Ethan again. "You've got a personal issue with him, I assume. But you do realize his skin's tougher than diamond?"
"We'll find a way," Ethan replied evenly.
Butcher studied him for a long moment. The phone still represented leverage. If those photos hit the press, the fallout would be catastrophic.
Finally, he jerked his chin toward the car. "Fine. Get in."
Ethan slid into the back seat without protest.
Hughie was still spiraling. "You lied to me," he said, voice strained. "You said FBI. You said this was legal. You—"
Butcher cut him off sharply. "You wanted justice, didn't you? This is what it looks like."
Hughie swallowed hard but stayed in the car.
Butcher drove fast. Very fast. He didn't speak much during the ride. Dawn was beginning to lighten the horizon by the time they reached their destination.
The man they were meeting looked surprised the moment he saw them.
"Are you insane?" Frenchie demanded as soon as Butcher finished a quick summary. "You bring strangers to me now? You trying to get us all killed faster?"
Butcher grinned. "Relax. You'll want to see what I brought."
"My forty grand?"
"Worth more than that."
Frenchie's suspicion turned into reluctant curiosity. He walked to the trunk and opened it.
The muffled curses from inside froze him in place.
"You cannot be serious," he said slowly. "You put him in your trunk?"
The Invisible Man's voice drifted up from inside, angry and panicked.
Frenchie shut the trunk immediately and backed away, running a hand through his hair. "This is suicide. Absolute suicide."
"Nothing we can't handle," Butcher replied, infuriatingly calm.
Frenchie's temper snapped. He drew a pistol and pressed it against Butcher's chin. "No. You take him and leave. Now. This is not my problem."
Butcher didn't flinch. "He's seen your face. That makes it your problem."
Frenchie's jaw tightened.
"And," Butcher added, gesturing toward Ethan, "our new friend here claims he has a brilliant method for killing him. Don't you want to hear it?"
Frenchie hesitated.
They relocated quickly after that, switching vehicles and driving to an abandoned restaurant in Jersey City. It was a place Frenchie had used before when he needed to disappear.
Inside the empty building, they lined the walk-in freezer with radio-shielding foil to block any potential tracking signals. The Invisible Man was dragged inside and secured in a metal cage rigged with an electrical charge.
When everything was in place, Frenchie leaned against the wall and folded his arms.
"All right," he said, looking at Ethan with open skepticism. "You have everyone's attention. How do you kill a man whose skin can't be penetrated?"
Hughie blinked at them. "Wait. Kill? I thought we were interrogating him."
Butcher gave him a flat look. "He can't just disappear for days. And we can't exactly let him walk away."
Hughie opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Frenchie turned back to Ethan. "His skin restructures carbon. Hard as diamond. Guns don't work. Blades don't work. Some Dominicans tried suffocation years ago. Didn't end well."
Ethan nodded slowly. "Then don't attack the outside."
Frenchie's eyes narrowed. "Go on."
"Go inside."
There was a brief silence.
Ethan continued evenly. "His organs aren't made of diamond. They're flesh. Same as ours. If you can't break the shell, you compromise what's inside. Acid. Toxins. Explosives, if you're feeling ambitious."
Frenchie stared at him.
"In 2007," Frenchie began, "they tried a lot of things."
"Did they try that?" Ethan asked calmly.
Frenchie thought for a moment. Then something sparked in his expression.
"Like a turtle," he muttered. "Shell strong. Interior… normal."
He paced once. "If we introduce corrosive material internally, theoretically…"
Butcher watched the exchange with growing interest.
Ethan picked up a stun baton and walked into the freezer.
The Invisible Man's voice rose in panic as he heard the door open. "What the hell are you doing?"
Ethan crouched slightly in front of the cage. His tone remained conversational. "We're debating whether to use acid or something more creative."
The Invisible Man went still.
His skin could deflect bullets. It could repel blades. But what they were suggesting bypassed all of that.
The baton crackled to life.
The Invisible Man's bravado cracked almost instantly. "Wait. No. Don't. I'll talk. I know things. I can tell you things."
Ethan glanced back toward the others.
Frenchie gave a slow, knowing smile.
"Start with Homelander," Butcher said sharply. "Weaknesses."
"I don't know!" the Invisible Man insisted. "He can see me. He knows mine. I never crossed him."
The questions continued after that.
They pressed him about internal politics. About Vought. About A-Train.
Some answers were evasive. Some were useful.
When asked where A-Train had gone the night before Robin died, the Invisible Man hesitated before answering.