Everyone's busy, and busy is good

The van was deathly silent.

Frenchie sat in the passenger seat, not daring to look at the man behind the wheel beside him. Mother's Milk gripped the steering wheel so tightly that the veins bulged on the backs of his hands.

"I'll say it again. This is a fucking terrible idea."

Hearing the two men argue, Kimiko tightened her grip on the seat beneath her and kept silently watching the streets race past outside.

"I owe her, Marvin," Frenchie said quietly. "If it weren't for her, I'd be a pile of meat right now."

"So you're going to get all of us killed? Go see Mesmer? A washed-up mind-reading freak! You were like this back then, and you're still like this now!" Mother's Milk roared, spittle flying.

"Fuck you! I told you not to bring that up again!" Frenchie lost his temper too, whipping around. "You think I've forgotten? But we can't treat her like some tool we throw away when we're done! She's not!"

Mother's Milk slammed on the brakes, swerving to a stop at the side of the road.

He turned his head and said, each word deliberate, "She's a hot potato. Vought is looking for her, and God knows who else is. What we should be doing right now is crawling into a hole, not waltzing off to see a Supe who's been on Vought's list for ages!"

"Mesmer can help her recover her memories! Find out who she is! Where she came from!"

"And then what? How can you guarantee he won't snitch? And let Vought follow the trail right to us? Frenchie, use that fucking chemical-filled brain of yours! I have a family!"

Frenchie's shoulders slumped. He glanced back at Kimiko. The girl was watching them, her eyes holding no fear, only a blank, bewildered emptiness.

That emptiness gouged at his heart.

"Just once." Frenchie's voice softened, carrying a hint of pleading. "Help her this once. Then we disappear. I promise."

Mother's Milk breathed heavily. He looked at Frenchie's pleading eyes, then at the girl huddled in the corner through the rearview mirror. Finally, he started the engine again.

"FUCK! Just this once."

Meanwhile, at CIA headquarters,

Butcher slapped a small glass vial of blue liquid onto the metal desk.

"This is what I mentioned to you before." Butcher grinned. "A power pill for Supes. Compound V. But it has another function you definitely don't know about."

He leaned forward, planting both hands on the desk.

"It can create Supes. Those spandex-wearing sons of bitches at Vought were all made with this stuff. Not a gift from God, not powers they were born with. Just an injection."

The woman sitting across from him-CIA Deputy Director Susan Rayner-finally reacted. She picked up the little vial and examined it against the light.

Butcher settled back in his chair and crossed his legs. "With this, plus the inside information I can provide, you'll have legitimate grounds to finish Vought off for good. Arrest every last one of those Supe bastards trying to get their hands on the military. For example-Homelander."

When he spoke that last name, every syllable carried a hatred etched deep into his bones.

Susan set down the vial.

"Even if what you're saying is true, we can discuss the other terms. Funding for your team, safe houses, new identities-all possible. But..."

She paused, looking Butcher straight in the eye.

"Homelander is off-limits."

The smile vanished from Butcher's face.

"What did you say?"

"I said we can't touch Homelander," Susan repeated. "Going after him would be suicide. I don't want to see my entire department wiped out."

She leaned back slightly and added, "We both know what happened to Mallory. Besides, Vought's interests are too deeply intertwined with those of the government and the military. Open confrontation would cause political turmoil neither of us could afford."

The air froze.

Butcher stared hard at her. They would rather cradle a nuclear bomb that could go off at any moment than risk disarming it.

"So you're just going to keep licking that blond psycho's boots?"

"This is a realistic assessment, Butcher."

"Fuck your realistic assessment."

Butcher shot to his feet, snatched the Compound V sample off the desk, and stuffed it back inside his coat.

He pulled the office door open and walked out without looking back. The thunderous slam of the door echoed down the hallway.

The partnership was over.

Walking down the cold hallway, Butcher's mind raced.

Taking revenge on Homelander was the only thing he intended to do for the rest of his life.

If mass-producing Supes and getting their hands on the military weren't enough leverage, what the fuck else could he add?

A thought flashed through his mind.

Kimiko.

They had already discovered that A-Train regularly made deliveries to that noodle shop in Chinatown. Now that they knew Compound V could create Supes, everything fell into place. A-Train was delivering Compound V. That girl was a test subject, perhaps even a finished product.

Uncovering her memories would reveal exactly what shady business Vought was conducting with Compound V. That might be a more powerful weapon than "creating Supes" itself.

He needed to find Frenchie and the others.

He returned to the Safe House and forcibly confiscated Hughie's phone. He needed firsthand information, not information relayed through Hughie. Then he took Hughie with him and hurried off, following Mother's Milk's and Frenchie's locations on the phone.

Queens, the run-down motel.

Lucian expertly prepared the formula, tested its temperature, then slipped the bottles into the little ones' mouths.

The little ones immediately began sucking noisily.

After changing their diapers and disposing of the trash, Lucian leaned against the wall and unlocked his phone.

Kimiko still hadn't come.

Being lovesick is terrifying. That lovesick idiot Frenchie might already be at Mesmer's house, pouring his heart out with someone else who was literally "brainless."

Forget it. Plans can't keep up with changes.

He opened his messaging app and sent Cate a message.

[The usual place tomorrow? I've found something new.]

Then it was Starlight's turn.

[How have you been lately? Tried that self-destruction trick I told you about?]

Once he had done all that, he put on his coat. As usual, he sent the well-fed babies into a deep sleep. Since Kimiko hadn't come, he couldn't waste time. It was time to scout the venue where Translucent would be appearing.

The night was deep.

Only a floor lamp remained lit in Madelyn's office.

Homelander lay in her lap, his face turned toward his exposed chest, sleeping like a baby. His golden hair lay scattered over Madelyn's skirt. The face usually so sunny, cheerful, and full of American vigor held only peace and contentment now.

Madelyn's fingers brushed gently across his cheek.

"Sleep, my good boy." She bent down and whispered into his ear, "This world doesn't deserve you. They're all ants, a bunch of fools who need you to save them yet fear you."

Her lips almost touched his ear.

"But you still have me. I'll always be here."

All three groups had their own things to do.