An underground warehouse.
Butcher slammed the door shut, sending a dull echo through the old warehouse.
The air still smelled of motor oil mingled with rust. Mother's Milk was bent over a wooden table studying a map and did not even look up at the noise.
"Back pretty quick. Having a good time with Becca?"
Frenchie sat in a corner, fiddling with a disassembled pistol. "Of course he is," he teased. "The bastard's even been smiling more lately."
Butcher said nothing. He walked straight to the table and slapped a black USB drive onto it.
Smack. The sharp sound brought everyone to a halt.
Mother's Milk looked up. "What's this?"
Butcher took off his sunglasses, his eyes dark, and gave a wicked smile. "Dirt on Homelander."
The warehouse fell silent for a moment before Frenchie laughed. "Are you drunk again?"
Butcher offered no explanation. He turned the computer toward himself, plugged in the USB drive, and found the only video on it.
On the screen, the camera shook slightly, revealing Homelander's familiar smile.
The audio from the recording began to play.
They exchanged glances, their expressions gradually growing serious. As the footage continued, Homelander walked step by step toward a man kneeling on the ground.
"Who is this guy?" Mother's Milk's brow slowly furrowed.
Then Homelander smiled and reached out with both hands...
With a clatter, the part in Frenchie's hand fell to the floor. His expression turned extremely ugly, his lips tightening little by little.
The video lasted only a few minutes. When it ended, the warehouse was so quiet they could hear one another breathe.
After a long while, Frenchie murmured, "Jesus..."
He had seen plenty of dead people, but watching a living person being torn apart bit by bit like that still made his scalp prickle.
Mother's