"Fuck you!!!!"
Maeve exploded in fury, grabbing Butcher by the collar and lifting him clean off the ground.
"Calm down, Maeve."
"Soldier Boy isn't Homelander. Yeah, they're both bastards—but Soldier Boy's the kind you can reason with."
"He can absolutely help us kill Homelander."
Butcher clutched her forearms tightly for support, his face flushing dark red as he forced the words out.
After all—
The effects of his Temp V had nearly worn off.
If Maeve decided to toss him, he'd be lucky to survive in one piece.
"You'd better be telling the truth!" Maeve snarled, hurling him onto the couch. "So what's the price?"
"Not me," Butcher said, lips curling into his trademark crooked grin. "You."
"Me?"
She pointed at herself, confused—then realization struck. Her pupils shrank.
"You sold me to Soldier Boy as payment?"
"Exactly."
"The price for him agreeing to take out Homelander… is you, Maeve."
"You should be happy. This is our best shot—the closest we've ever come to killing that bastard."
"And all you've got to do is keep our secret weapon entertained for a while."
"You won't even have to fight. Safe. Efficient. Worth it."
Butcher calmly laid out the pros and cons, that unsettling grin never leaving his face.
"Heh…"
Maeve let out a cold laugh, her whole body feeling chilled.
"Right now, Butcher, I think you're worse than Homelander and Soldier Boy combined. Are you even human?"
"The moment I saw what you so-called shining heroes really are beneath the surface, I stopped thinking of myself as human."
"Because humans can't kill devils."
With that, Butcher suddenly sat upright, grabbed a bottle of champagne from the coffee table, drained it in one go, and smashed the empty bottle against the floor.
"One question. Are you in—or not?"
"Fuck!"
Maeve slammed her fist into the table, splintering it to pieces. She trembled with rage. But under Butcher's relentless stare, she finally nodded—furious, humiliated, and cornered.
Because—
Once she betrayed Homelander, there was no going back.
If she wanted to survive, she had to see this through to the bitter end.
It wasn't even the first time she'd compromised herself for a greater goal.
She shot Butcher a vicious look.
"When do I go?"
"Now."
That grin widened.
…
Maeve swore she'd rip that smile off his face someday.
…
Downstairs at the motel—
Frenchie, high as a kite, circled the sleek Arcee (Motorcycle Mode) Leon had just ridden back in on, babbling excitedly.
"Holy shit!"
"This is the most beautiful motorcycle I've ever seen in my life! Stark, where the hell did you nick this from?"
"I want one…"
Under the System's subtle influence, Leon used his real surname without issue. He stepped off the bike and gave Frenchie a friendly pat on the shoulder, repeating the same excuse he once used on Tony.
"Found it by the roadside."
"You lucky bastard," Frenchie muttered dreamily.
Still buzzing, he reached out to touch Arcee's headlight.
Big mistake.
VROOOM—
The engine roared to life. A burst of exhaust flame blasted Frenchie backward, sending him flying straight into a trash bin.
He survived.
But his hair did not.
Unfortunately for him, this scene was witnessed by Butcher—fresh from his deal-making—and a visibly displeased Maeve.
"What happened, mate?" Butcher asked.
"Nothing," Leon shrugged. "My beauty just didn't appreciate being touched."
"Your beauty?"
"You mean the bike?"
Butcher eyed Arcee's futuristic design. He clearly wanted to give it a test touch himself—but after Frenchie's example, he wasn't stupid enough.
"Doesn't look roadside to me," he said dryly.
"Of course not."
Leon affectionately ran his hand over Arcee's headlight as he improvised:
"To make up for my inability to fly, some old friends pulled strings and custom-built this jet-powered glider bike for me. I named her Arcee."
"She flies?" Butcher and Maeve exchanged a glance.
That was both good news—and potentially very bad news.
Good, because it improved their odds against Homelander.
Bad… because if things ever spiraled out of control—
Well.
Butcher wasn't that far gone. Not yet.
For one thing, he wouldn't wipe out every Supe in existence—not while Ryan was still in the picture.
At least… not for now.
The conversation shifted.
Leon's gaze slid toward Maeve.
Like Starlight earlier, she wore casual clothes to conceal her identity—but hers were far more alluring.
An oversized off-shoulder gray sweater barely covered her hips. Semi-sheer black stockings hugged her long legs, paired with glossy brown knee-high heeled boots.
"Wow~"
Leon let out a low whistle.
Then, as if greeting an old friend, he casually draped an arm around her shoulders—utterly unbothered by boundaries.
"W-Wait, I'm not ready yet…" Maeve instinctively tried to push him away.
Leon leaned close and whispered softly in her ear:
"Shh~"
"Time waits for no one, beautiful."
"Besides…"
"You wouldn't want to miss the best chance at killing Homelander just because you kept me waiting, would you?"
"…."
Something about that phrasing unsettled Maeve, though she couldn't quite place why.
She took a deep breath, steadied herself, then flashed a composed, teasing smile.
"It's been decades. You still up for it? Wouldn't want you losing to a woman."
Leon scoffed.
"Who the hell do you think I am?"
"I'm Soldier Boy. Fuck you."
…
25 hours later.
Leon's room door opened.
Maeve walked toward the bathroom, steady but deliberate. Butcher—who hadn't slept all night next door, dark circles heavy under his eyes—followed shortly after.
Inside the bathroom—
To his surprise, Maeve looked radiant. Not only unaffected, but positively refreshed. She hummed lightly while touching up her makeup in the mirror.
"So," Butcher asked stiffly, "what do you think of him?"
They weren't lovers. Just allies with a shared enemy.
But something about the past night left Butcher feeling hollow—an uneasy emptiness eerily similar to when he first saw the footage of Homelander and his wife.
"He's… not bad. Better than I expected," Maeve said casually. "I mean personality-wise. Power-wise, you already know."
"And unlike Homelander—that oversized man-child—he actually feels like a normal person."
She paused, then added with faint amusement:
"Strange thing to say about Soldier Boy, I know. But it's true."
"Normal?" Butcher repeated quietly.
He fell into thought.
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