On the other side, in the FBI field office.
Butcher sat across from Susan again. She greeted him with the same neutral expression she always wore. Neither happy to see him nor ready to kick him out.
"You're not here to hit me up for more funding again, are you?" Susan asked, fiddling with the little desktop toy made of metal balls. Every time it moved, the balls clacked together with a soft, rhythmic sound.
"That last pile of cash was so big people are starting to whisper I'm skimming it."
"Who's got the balls to investigate the director herself? Give me the names. I'll take care of them for you," Butcher said with a shit-eating grin.
He reached into his coat, pulled out a thick evidence bag containing a vial of Compound V, and dropped it on her desk. "Here's your V. Exactly what you wanted."
"We've got proof Vought's been shooting this shit into babies all over the world. Over fifty hospitals involved. And there's worse."
"Worse than injecting babies?" Susan raised an eyebrow.
Butcher shrugged. "Yeah. These cunts don't have a fucking bottom line."
"Send it to the lab first," Susan said, reaching for the bag.
Butcher stopped her and slapped a typed list on the desk instead.
"Before that, let's handle the important shit."
The list laid out every demand for Butcher's four-man crew: salaries, office space, security clearance, immunity clauses, the works.
Susan had no choice but to agree if she wanted the Compound V. But she drew the line at the final item, the direct accusation against Homelander.
She knew what would happen if they went after him. The Mallory incident had already shown them the body count.
"I'm sorry about what happened to your wife," she said. "But you need to understand something. Accusing Homelander won't just get you killed. It'll get thousands of people killed. Push him too hard and the fallout won't be something either of us can handle."
"You're scared."
"Damn right I am. And you should be too."
Susan didn't even try to hide it. Anyone who'd actually dealt with supes knew exactly how terrifying they were. Homelander alone was basically a walking nuke. The only way to kill him would be to drop a nuclear strike on New York and wipe out millions of civilians along with him.
Could she actually give that order?
No one could live with the consequences.
To her, Homelander was a live nuclear warhead with a hair trigger.
"You're really not going to sign off on charging him?" Butcher asked, barely holding back his rage.
"Let's change the subject. We can bump up your team's pay," Susan said, trying to steer the conversation away.
"Fuck that."
Butcher snatched the Compound V sample out of her hand, slammed the door so hard the frame shook, and stormed out. If the FBI wouldn't help him, he'd bring Vought down with his own bare hands, especially the cunt who raped his wife.
...
A few days later, Ivan forwarded the photos Mesmer sent him straight to Homelander.
"Nice work," Homelander said, staring at Butcher's picture. It dragged up old memories.
Eight years ago, at a Christmas party. Becca was still Vought's senior digital marketing exec, mainly handling his social media.
She'd had a few drinks and was pleasantly tipsy.
She looked damn good that night.
Homelander felt the itch, but he kept his hands to himself.
After that he started paying her a lot more attention. Becca could tell he wanted her.
A few mornings later he tested the waters again. When she didn't say no, he dragged her into an empty office.
They fucked for over three hours straight. Even now Homelander still jerked off to the memory sometimes.
The irony was thick enough to choke on.
Meanwhile, across town, Butcher sat alone staring at old footage of his wife from before she disappeared. His face was stone, but his eyes carried heavy grief.
He was thinking about that same day eight years ago.
That was the Vought Christmas party his wife had dragged him to.
Becca introduced him to Homelander. Truth was, the second Butcher laid eyes on the bastard he felt pure disgust.
Tall, handsome, beloved by the whole fucking country. Any man would feel threatened having a guy like that around his wife.
Of course Butcher would never admit that out loud.
But from that night on, Becca grew quiet and distant. Then she vanished completely.
Butcher spent those weeks drunk off his ass, wallowing in misery, until CIA agent Mallory showed up at his door and played him the security footage from a few days after the party.
The video showed his wife walking into an office with Homelander. Three hours later she stumbled out with her clothes messed up and a thousand-yard stare. She sat in the park the rest of the afternoon. After that day, Becca was gone.
That was why Butcher hated Homelander with every cell in his body, and why that hate spread to every supe on the planet.
"Becca, I'll make it right. I swear to God." Butcher opened his wallet and stared at the photo of her tucked inside. He made the silent promise again. As long as he was still breathing, he would get revenge for his wife.
Meanwhile, in The Seven's conference room.
Homelander slipped the photos back into the folder without changing expression. He looked at Ivan and asked, "So tell me, what's a good excuse for the rest of the team to hunt these pricks with me?"
"Underground extremist terrorists in New York, human traffickers running a gambling ring, bootleggers fucking with the supe industry, or the masterminds who killed Translucent," Ivan answered flatly.
"Damn, mate. You were born for this job," Homelander said, flashing that perfect all-American smile. He gave Ivan's shoulder a friendly slap. "Promoting you to head of Public Relations might be the smartest fucking thing I have ever done."
"But… isn't Translucent still alive?"
Homelander was talking about the doppelganger, of course.
Ivan gave a small smile. "As long as you want him alive, he stays alive. If you want him dead, Vought can release the official notice about Translucent's death anytime."
"Good. Very good." Homelander clasped his hands behind his back and stared out into the distance. "From what I hear, people online are already questioning why Translucent hasn't used his powers lately."
"Yes, they are."
"In that case he's got no value left. Handle it."
"Understood. I'll issue the death announcement right away." Ivan stayed perfectly calm, turned, and left the conference room.
___
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Read 12 Advance Chapters—P@t- Captain69