…
After that—
Leon and the fully unrestrained Mother's Milk split the work almost evenly between them.
Every last superpowered degenerate remaining inside the TNT Twins' Herogasm mansion was driven out—
No.
Eliminated.
"Let's go."
Standing before what had once been a lavish estate—now reduced to smoldering rubble—Leon flicked the blood residue from his vibranium-reinforced shield and turned to The Boys.
"That caused quite a scene. We also killed a member of The Seven. The Homelander you want me to deal with will probably be here soon."
"Wouldn't that be even better?"
Billy Butcher strode forward, barely able to contain his excitement.
"Why don't we just wait right here? All of us together. When he shows up, we finish him. Our deal still stands."
Leon looked at him expressionlessly.
"Butcher… are you telling me how to do my job?"
"No—no. You're the boss. Your call."
Under Leon's cold, corpse-like stare, the manic gleam in Butcher's bloodshot eyes faded almost instantly.
"Not yet," Leon said flatly. "We had an agreement. You help me find Payback… and I help you deal with Homelander."
He paused.
"And when I eat, I save the best part for last."
"So don't try to tell me how to do things, Butcher."
"I've already warned you."
"There won't be a next time."
Leon pointed at Butcher's hooked nose, enunciating each word.
"…Understood."
Butcher nodded, sweat beading down his back.
He knew—very clearly—that he had just brushed past the gates of hell.
…
After dealing with the TNT Twins, Leon and the others returned to the motel The Boys were using as a temporary base.
Not long after stepping out, Butcher came back to find Leon again.
His investigation into Mindstorm had hit a dead end.
"Bro, here's what you need to know," Leon said without turning around. "Mindstorm can hear people's thoughts. That's why he prefers staying far away from civilization."
In front of him sat a relic from the last century—a bulky CRT television. Leon was holding a game controller, remotely connected via Bluetooth link to Arcee, who was somewhere else entirely.
They were playing The King of Fighters '97.
"To deal with that, he's bought run-down cabins in a lot of remote areas. Lives like a complete nutjob, wandering around those woods."
"That's too vague," Butcher said grimly. "If we check every place that fits that description, it'll take weeks—maybe months. We don't have that kind of time."
"I told you. Mindstorm's a lunatic. Bipolar. A proper head case. Other than me, the rest of Payback kept their distance from him—"
"Wait," Butcher cut in sharply. "Bipolar?"
"Yeah."
Leon frowned slightly.
"Didn't I mention that before? I could've sworn I did…"
"No."
Butcher didn't hesitate.
"You did. I forgot."
To avoid setting Leon off in daily interactions, Butcher's ability to lie with a straight face had reached master level.
"Oh, shit!"
On-screen, Leon's Iori Yagami was annihilated in a flawless combo by Arcee's Ryuji Yamazaki. A full-health wipe. No mercy. No theatrics.
"Arcee, could you at least pretend to go easy on me?!"
Butcher raised an eyebrow. He had the key detail he needed. Best to leave before Leon decided to vent his frustration on him for no reason.
The moment Butcher exited—
Leon, stubbornly refusing to accept defeat, was mercilessly destroyed again. Arcee clearly did not understand the concept of "holding back."
After being beaten into gaming abstinence, Leon punched through the television in one clean strike.
Then he swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills and lay down peacefully on the bed, as if preparing for a beauty sleep.
He closed his eyes.
Opened them again.
Night had fallen.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A slender figure, moving with the caution of a guilty cat, tiptoed up to Leon's door. She tapped on it with the faintest possible force.
Click.
The door opened.
"Leon… it's me—"
Before Starlight could finish, Leon pulled her inside.
He pressed her gently against the wall.
"Annie. I've been waiting for you. Haven't slept all night."
His lie wasn't quite on Butcher's level—but it was respectable.
"S-Sorry."
She placed her hands against his chest, soft and weak, more symbolic resistance than real.
"I was worried Hughie might misunderstand… so I waited until he fell asleep before coming."
Their eyes met.
Leon's gaze was absurdly, devastatingly tender.
Her heart skipped.
She inhaled slowly—
And, as if compelled by something she couldn't quite name, Annie closed her eyes.
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