Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

He hated these conventions, he only visited them when he required information. His next target? Gunpowder.

At first, he wasn’t even sure whether this kid - or now adult - actually had powers, or was just some guy with guns. As expected, Gunpowder refused to say anything about the actual target. Days prior, his plan was to ask the supe about Soldier Boy, but after reading through some information Maeve gathered, the man decided to approach the situation from a different angle. Because if there was somebody, anybody who knew more about Soldier Boy, it was the Ghost. But as her name suggests, she disappeared, civilians rarely reporting sightings of her. Are they true? Nobody knows, because by the time somebody else arrives to confirm it, the Ghost is gone. This wasn’t even why she got the name Ghost. The man didn’t even know whether she was still alive or not, who knows, maybe he’s chasing an actual ghost by now. No, if the others are alive, she surely is, too. The question was, where.

With no information gathered, the man steps out into the underground garage below the convention, the cold air hitting him in an instant. With the shoelaces of his boots carelessly untied, he stomps over to his car. In a swift motion, he tears the car’s door open, plopping down into the driver’s seat with a sigh. For a few moments, he sits there with eyes shut, thinking, replanning everything. This didn’t work. Nothing he never heard before. An annoyed grunt leaves his body as he adjusts the rear-view mirror, spotting something, or more like someone odd in the reflection.

“Shit,” he mumbles as he ducks down, just as a bullet speeds past his face. The rear-view mirror shatters in an instant, and who knows, maybe if he didn’t notice it, he, too, would have ended up the same way. Panting, he just laid there for a few seconds.

Just as he was about to check the other mirror, the object met a similar fate as the other. Right now, the man didn’t have much of a choice. The green drug in his coat’s pocket was still there, but after some contemplation, he settled on not trying it out at that moment.

The man climbs out of the car, laying as low as possible, his handgun clutched between his fingers. Gunpowder was nowhere to be seen, but he could feel that he was lurking somewhere in that garage. Now, let’s be real, he did say some out of pocket things to that guy, called him Soldier Boy’s underage nob-gobbler, not to mention that he tried to blackmail him too for the sake of some intel on the Ghost. Of course Gunpowder isn’t going to let it slide.

After firing a few warning shots, the man inches backwards, crouching behind his car for some safety. Gunpowder might be an asshole, maybe he didn’t even have powers, but he was still handy with guns. Better safe than sorry, even he knew that. Slowly, he stretches his neck, scouting the area of the garage. Still nobody.

Another gunshot rang out, it echoed down there. A sharp pain hits his leg, his blood splattering out from the wound.

“Fuck,” the man breathes out, hissing. He glances down at the wound, his black jeans turning a different shade on one of his legs. He was quick to realize that he was fighting against someone he couldn’t even see. Throwing his head around in pain, he came up with an idea. It was far from a plan, it was barely even an idea.

He straightens up, limping away from the car, his finger on the trigger of his handgun. He just fired shots blindly, the bullets occasionally reaching cars too. He slams himself against a column, panting in his hiding spot. Gunpowder was still nowhere to be seen, but it was definitely him, he just knew it. The shots were too accurate for it to be anybody else.

With his handgun ready, he held it tightly, peeking out from behind the column. A shell casing clicks, a pipe hisses, a car’s window breaks, and in that same second, the bullet scrapes the man’s skin, leaving behind a gaping, bloody scar. The man groans, his hand swiftly moving up to feel the wound. Yes, this was definitely the work of Gunpowder. Theory confirmed. Nobody else has such precise, calculated shots. Now, it was time for the man to strike back, too.

He aims at the light of a car, emptying his gun in a few seconds. The car’s alarm goes blaring, the loud sound almost piercing through his ears. To his luck, Gunpowder himself had a similar reaction. The sound was just enough to distract him. Let him investigate, the man thought. It was now or never. He leaped out from behind the column, and could only pray that Gunpowder didn’t see him as he ran, or more like limped towards the car parked in the far corner of the garage. The tiny container was still in his pocket, he might as well put it to good use.

“Get your ass off my car,” the familiar voice of the former Payback member rings out, the supe having a stare-off with the man leaning on his car confidently. Gunpowder could’ve shot him right then and there, but he didn’t.

“Why you protecting Soldier Boy and Ghost?” the man inquires, using one of his hands to push himself away from the car. He could see Gunpowder’s fingers as they searched for the guns in their holsters. “If he’d have slipped me a length, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d throw him to the fucking dogs.”

Gunpowder just nodded slightly, the movement barely visible, but it was there, before removing one of the guns with a quickdraw, firing at the man in front of him. He chuckles quietly as the man tumbled against the car, hissing at the gunshots, landing on the concrete flooring with a thud.

“Oh, shit,” Gunpowder laughs to himself, taking steps towards the man laying on the ground. He comes to a halt as he hears the black coated man grunt, forcing himself up from the ground where he laid.

With his palm placed onto one of his knees, the man straightens up, face to face again with the supe. Gunpowder’s brows knit together, trying to put the puzzle pieces into the right place. He fired way too many shots at the man for him to just get right back up. Was he a bulletproof supe? No, that can’t be, Gunpowder already injured him multiple times. This attack should have been the most effective of his yet, but seemingly the easiest for the black haired man to avoid.

The black haired man shares the supe’s look of confusion, glancing down at his chest where multiple bullets have been fired. With his fingertips, he grabs his shirt’s unbuttoned collar, gently pulling it to the side to reveal no wounds. The bullets fall to the ground, landing with a rattling sound. He turns his gaze back to the supe, a tight lipped, mischievous grin on his face.

Gunpowder, deciding to retry his failed attempt, readies his gun, but before he can land his hand on the trigger, the black coated man grasps the weapon. Straining, the supe tries his best to escape the hold. With a clink, the handgun breaks into two, only by the other man’s sheer force. Before the supe can reach for his other gun, the man bashes their heads against each other, and with a grunt, Gunpowder sprawls on the ground. The man grabs him, and after two more hits, he smashes him into the concrete floor.

He steps closer to the supe in front of his feet, towering over him menacingly. For the first time in his whole life, Billy Butcher had the upper hand in a fight against a supe.

Gunpowder’s fist makes swift contact with Butcher’s stomach, but the hit seems to have no effect. With a toothy, wide smile, the temporary supe punches back with multiple times the force, sending him flying into the white car. Gunpowder now sludged against it, blood dripping from his nose and some cut wounds as he sat in the midst of tiny glass shards that were once part of the car.

Butcher takes quick steps towards him, and this is it, Gunpowder thought, and for a good reason. Before he could even crawl a step away, the man clenches his fists, and with newfound confidence - not like he didn’t have enough of it before -, he continuously lands hits, right in the supe’s face. Gunpowder could feel his teeth flying straight out of his mouth, splatters of blood accompanying them.

“Okay, okay,” he musters out between two hits, his breathing heavy. Before he continues, he spits out the remaining mixture of blood and teeth out of his mouth. Disgusting. “Please. Soldier Boy used to slap me around a bit, all right? It was just hazing that went too far, all right?”

“That’s one too much alright for my liking,” Butcher replies before delivering another punch. This wasn’t the information that he needed, and if the scene kept dragging on for too long, people would definitely notice what’s going on. Wouldn’t be too nice of a sight to see a supe, all bloodied in a garage. That didn’t matter in that moment, killing him was purely optional, but with each second, he was inching towards doing it, merely for the sake of testing out the green liquid he shot himself up with. All those years, all those defeats against Homelander and so many other supes, but now…

“That’s it,” Gunpowder blurts out before Butcher can hit him again.

“What fucking happened to him, and where is Ghost?” The man shouts, growing impatient.

“Soldier Boy didn’t die in an accident, all right? The whole nuclear meltdown thing, it was just bullshit,” he explains, but just as he finished his sentence, the man furiously cuts in.

“I fucking know that. What killed him?”

“I don’t know.” That’s it, another hit, another few teeth lost. “I don’t know, I don’t fucking know! We were in Nicaragua, in fucking ‘84, but I didn’t see it happen!”

“Well, you must have seen something!”

“I didn’t see shit!” he defends, holding one of his bloodied hands in front of his almost disfigured face. “Fuck, I was just a kid. Ask the others, ask the fucking CIA!”

“CIA?”

“Yeah. We were working with the CIA,” he pants.

“Who was the case officer?”

For a few seconds, Gunpowder hesitated. But he knew that not answering would only earn him another punch and even more lost teeth.

“Grace. Grace Mallory. All right? Fuck…” Butcher remains quiet for some moments, his thoughts racing. He knew Grace Mallory all too well. Was this guy just trying to mess with him? No, likely not. There are things that Grace would never talk about to anyone, not even Butcher. Especially not Butcher. She’s the keeper of so much withheld information, a whole library could be filled with them.

“And the Ghost?” he manages to ask.

“Nobody knows what she’s up to. She’s somewhere in this city, but I haven’t heard much from her since the Nicaragua incident. If somebody knows Soldier Boy’s weakness, what they could have used on him, it’s her.”

That was basically all the information Butcher needed. He would have been a lot more thankful if the information was more specific and extensive, but this will do for now.

Chapter Text

1941, Philadelphia

America’s participation in the war was inevitable by this time, brave patriots already enlisting in the army by free will. Protect the homeland, they said. That was their motivation. Either that, or they let the words of toxic parents get to them. Your life’s not worth anything anyway, at least make something useful of it, they said. So much death could have been avoided, but here he sat, waiting in line, squished between two other guys, both around his age, waiting for his name to be called out. 

It’s been a while since he had arrived, he read through the newspaper twice already. He wasn’t in the mood to converse with the other men in the waiting room. He tapped his feet against the pale, marble flooring of the room, his patience wearing thin.

“Monroe, Benjamin!” a distinct, deep male voice calls out. Folding the newspaper to its original size and placing it back onto the chair, he rises from his seat. He sauntered over to the man who called his name. The man was almost bald, and in front of him, on the wooden podium, was a piece of paper. To Ben, it was upside down, and reading things that were upside down was not his profession. Neither was war, but here he was.

“Monroe,” the balding man exclaims, not even looking at Ben. His fingers flipped through the two papers in front of him, his dark brown eyes racing between the words. “You’re James’ son?”

“Yes sir,” Ben replies confidently. He didn't like that this man brought up his father. Unbeknownst to the man, his father was the reason he was here today. This man was a friend, or more like an acquaintance of his father, he knew, he’s seen him around a lot.

“Hm. Interesting. Did he sign you up for this?” He inquires, adjusting his round glasses, pushing them higher on the bridge of his nose with his index finger, eyes still fixed on the papers.

Ben remained quiet. No, his father did not sign him up for this. But was he doing it for his father? Yes. 

“I asked you a question,” the man sternly states, now glancing at Ben. 

“No, he did not. But I want to make him proud.”

“That’s what got you to sign up, hm? To make someone proud,” he scoffs at the last part. 

It’s not funny, Ben thought, and he was right, it wasn’t.

“You really think that you, dying in unknown territory, will make your old man proud of you?” The glassed man asks, pursing his lips into a gloomy smile. “I might have something better for you, son. Something that your father can really be proud of.”

Ben’s brows knit together, his mouth opening to ask a question, but right after opening it, he shuts his lips back together.

“Great medical record. Go sit back, I’ll alert you when I’m finished here. Not many people left now.” With a weak smile, the man nods in assurance. 

Doing as told, Ben plops down on the same seat he occupied earlier. Should he pick up the same newspaper and read it all again? No, he’s not going to. To pass time, he decided to observe the waiting room. Behind the podium and the man was a door. it was closed when he got up from his seat, but somebody seemingly left it open while he was talking. Now, he gained access to watch the events going down there. 

To his best knowledge and from what he could see, it was a medical area. The men whose medical files were eligible were escorted there, and had to undergo a medical check up there. Vision, reflexes, things that fall into these categories. He watched the doctors and nurses run around, going from one booth to another. There were maybe four of these booths at most. 

Exiting one of them was a brown haired girl, a nurse, her hair tied up so that it didn’t get in her way during work. She sprinted down the hallways behind the door, from one booth to another, almost every five minutes. Ben knew for sure that he will ask her why she couldn’t stay at one, but this was a question for another time, because the man’s familiar voice rang out from near the doorway. 

Ben turns his attention towards the man, who himself was a scientist. The scientist didn’t repeat whatever he said a few moments ago, he just cocked his head towards the open door behind himself as a sign for Ben to go over. He gets up with a sigh, his palms on his knees as he pushes himself up. Straightening up, he makes his way towards the door.

By the time he gets there, the scientist has already walked through it, still, slowly, so that Ben can catch up to him. Upon entering the hallway, he looked around inside. Just as expected he saw the booths, most of them with closed curtains. Only the feet of the people inside were visible, the dirty white curtains didn’t reach the ground. 

“Follow me,” the scientist - or doctor? Ben was starting to contemplate - waves for Ben to follow him as he walks towards another door at one end of the hallway. Obediently, Ben follows the man suit. As he almost reaches the door - now already opened by the yet nameless man -, the same brown haired girl resurfaces from the booth closest to him. 

Her eyes subtly widen, her brows furrowing and her mouth slightly agape as she spots Ben almost brushing past her. Now she knows, Ben thought remorsefully. With the scientist already waiting for him at the doorstep, he keeps on moving, with his eyes now locked with the brunette’s as the distance between them grows. She stood still in the middle of the hallway, and if there would have been anyone, she would’ve been blocking the way, but it was late afternoon and everybody was packing up, the patients had already left when Ben entered. The displeasure on her face was vivid enough for him to notice it. Still, he kept his stride on, entering the mysterious room.

The man shuts the door behind Ben, keeping his position in the doorway. Confused, Ben stands still, his eyes scanning the room.

“Where did you bring me?” He finally asks. His first thought was that he just got kidnapped. Or was this his father’s plan to stop him from enlisting? No, he didn’t care enough to do anything. He was probably filled with more joy at the news of his son enlisting in the army than when Ben was born.

“What I’m going to show you is a secret, scientific operation. It’s all the idea of late scientist Frederick Vought,” he explains as he confidently strides down the new hallway. This time, it was filled with people, all of them either wearing lab coats or armor.  

“And what, you want me to be a lab rat?” Ben cuts in, disrupting the man’s speech.

“Something like that, yes. With your approval, obviously. Your medical record is clean, and this could grant you a chance to show your father that you are, in fact, something he should be proud of. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

It was. It still is. Still, he was in the fog about this, he wanted to know what he was signing up for. 

“What exactly are you testing?” He asks.

“Dr. Vought called it Compound V. You have read comics, right?” The scientist turns his head towards Ben, this might have been the first proper look he got at the boy since he stepped foot in the building. He was headed towards a specific room. On their way there, he was greeted by his coworkers. They called him by the name Dr. Sterling, and now that he heard somebody say it out loud, Ben recalled that this man was in fact his father’s friend. Is that why he was chosen for this?

Nonetheless, if this was his only shot at being part of the army and doing something useful that might, hopefully get him his father’s approval, he was not going to let the chance slide.

“Yes, I did. Why, you want to make a comic book hero out of me?”

“Something along the lines of that, yes. Think of it. If the experiment succeeds, you could become one of the first superheroes ever. That’s something to be proud of, isn’t it?”

He was about to say absolutely, but Dr. Sterling was yet again steps ahead of him, pushing a door open. 

“Here it is,” he breathes out, a smile on his face. 

Ben enters, and inside, he sees what the doctor had been working on. So many tables scattered around the room, and on most of them were tiny tubes, filled with a blue liquid. 

Ben leans lower, observing the liquid inside the tubes. He’s never seen anything like this before. Was it even safe for him to be around those things? Dr. Sterling didn’t start yelling at him to get away, so in his eyes it apparently was. The aforementioned scientist appears behind Ben, so quiet that a cat could compete with him.

“So? What do you think, Mr. Monroe?”

Exiting the building, Ben was immediately hit with the cold, December air, his brown coat luckily protecting him from it. At the bottom of the few stairs stood a familiar face, her hair now let free. With her arms crossed in front of her chest, she silently stood there, motionless. Her eyes were on Ben and Ben only, not like anybody else was around. It was getting late, and the street lamps were already glowing with their orange hue. 

Swallowing hard, Ben makes his way down the stairs, his hands in his coat’s pocket. Having to talk with the brunette nurse was now inevitable. The question was who is going to start the conversation.

“That’s dangerous.” She states coldly. 

“I know, but this is a full-blown war, there’s no way I’d-” He begins to explain, but before he can finish his sentence, he is interrupted.

“I was talking about your pockets,” she says, her eyes fixed on the pockets of his coat. 

Ben glances down, but doesn’t really understand what she’s talking about. The pockets were perfectly fine. No marks, no loose thread, no holes.

“It looks good to me,” he replies eventually after studying his own coat’s pocket.

“Don’t put your hands in your pockets when you’re walking down the stairs. It’s dangerous. If you trip and fall, you won’t be able to dull the impact. It will be a lot more difficult to find your balance too. You may get much more serious injuries.”

Ben looks stunned. He thought she would scold him about enlisting, that she would try to stop him, maybe by force, but no. Here they stood, talking about pockets. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he sighs with relief. He did not want to talk about the army. “Let’s get going, it’s getting late.”

Agreeing with the suggestion, the girl and Ben get going. Silence engulfed them, but nothing ever lasts forever. This, too, had to come to an end.

“So when were you going to tell me that you enlisted in the army?” She asks. Here it was, the oh-so-dreaded question Ben had been itching to get over with. 

“Sometime. I promise I would have told you.”

“Or I’d just get a letter one day from a colonel offering his condolences. Your father has the power to keep you here, and I’ve read through the newspaper, you were not called for induction. Which means you were ready to volunteer without me and your father knowing.”

Ben lets out a defeated huff, his eyes on the ground, watching as their shadows move along with them. 

“No, I would’ve told you. But now you know it now.”

“I would’ve preferred being told by you, but yes, now I know. Anything else I should be aware of? I know there is, you and Dr. Sterling went to the hallway where nobody else is allowed.”

She knew. Of course she did, she was smart enough and Ben was aware of it. 

“I got accepted into an experiment,” he declares. So far his eyes averted her gaze, but now, as he said this, he stared right into her eyes. He was going to do this, even if she disapproved.

Her pace slows down, her mouth hanging agape. 

“Don’t tell me you are going to get the Compound V.” She shakes her head so gently that it’s barely visible. 

“You know about it?”
“It was just a rumor going around inside, they said that it was what Sterling and a bunch of other doctors and scientists were working on. I didn’t know whether it was true, and I wouldn’t have thought you would get it out of all people,” she explains, worry lacing her voice. 

“The experiments will begin next week. If it works, I might get powers and make it to the front lines of the war. Imagine my father’s face when he hears about it! This might be my only chance.”

Her face was unreadable to Ben. Inside, she was sinking deep in thought. Experiment. War. And in the middle of both things was her only friend. Both options cost lives, and now Ben was going through both.

“You’re doing this for your father’s approval, huh?” She scoffs, her lips pursed into a thin line. Now, she was the one who averted his gaze.

There they stood in the middle of the street. Ben refused to answer. Was it shame pulling him down? Now that she worded it like this, Ben did sound pathetic in a way. Undergoing experiments for somebody’s approval, who might still not care, even if it succeeds? 

“I’ll apply too,” she says, breaking the silence. 

Ben’s eyes go wide, his expression switching up in a second.

“You mean you’re going to partake in experiments? That’s- No, you’re not.”

“Why? I’m fed up with this job! I’m fed up with this life! I can apply if I want to, end of conversation.”
“No! They aren’t going to let you get that Compound V, they’re not going to put a woman on the front line!”

“Or maybe you don’t want me on the front line!” She argues back. Her voice was louder this time.

“Well yeah, there’s that too! I don’t have many people in my life, and who knows if you die in a laboratory as a lab rat, or even if you managed to survive that, which is a truly big if, there’s also the fact that you would be taken to war!” Ben replies, his tone just as strong and livid. 

He didn’t want to let Vi partake in whatever Dr. Sterling had in mind, and he was ready to do anything to prevent it from ever happening.

Chapter Text

The sound of cars. The sound of people. These were the sounds filtering into her apartment through the window, The Smiths playing from her neighbor’s record player. It was never, ever dead silent here. Something was always making a sound, no matter how faint it was, but it was there.

She didn’t care much for it when she first moved in here, given that she was on the move almost all the time. She missed her travels, it was a whole new experience compared to this. Stuck here, the smell of oceans and forests replaced by the smell of gasoline, water pipes and cheap pizza from the shop on the ground floor of the apartment.

This time, though, there was a new noise. She heard it as she sat on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table in front of her. Her door was one of those creaky ones, the ones that wake up everybody in a two mile radius in the middle of the night. 

Her eyes glanced up from the book she was reading. Heavy footsteps that were trying to be suppressed on her wooden flooring. She sat there motionless, not even bothering to take off her feet from that cheap table. Whatever, or more like whoever it was, couldn’t do any harm. Still, breaking into her house was an asshole move. Especially since it was very amateur work, or who knows, maybe the person was just okay with her slitting their throat open. Or maybe they were just suicidal.

Just as she expected it, somebody entered her apartment, and he didn’t even try to hide it. The man entered her living room, the room where she sat. He did it so peacefully, almost like he was in his own house, in complete disregard that she was sitting right there. She might work like a ghost, but she was never invisible. 

“Nice little apartment, dear,” he breaks the silence with his heavy British accent. His untied boots just carried in all the mud and dirt from the streets, his black coat was worn out.

“Glad you like it, stranger,” she replies, turning her attention back to the book in her hands. The gamblers. Some western that nobody likely ever heard of. 

After getting a good look at the interior, even dusting off some old pictures with his fingertips, the British man looks at her. It was almost as if she didn’t care that he just broke in, acting like this was a daily occurrence. In her hand, he notices the book. He was convinced that there were maybe ten copies of this at most, cause wasn’t aware of this book’s existence up until now. It was a western for sure.

“You wrote some shit like this, didn’t you? What was the title, Outlaws, or-”

“Out of Laws. Now, what do you want? I reckon you aren’t here to discuss my works,” she cuts in. This was the first time he could feel the hint of agitation around her, the first time she seemed to care that he was inside.

“Straight to the point, I like that. You know, you at least don’t look as run down as your little friends,” he smirks. 

Her attention is now focused on the British man. Her friends? Did she even have those? She did, long ago, but this changed since then. Though, she had an idea who this man was referring to.

“How do you know how they’re doing? Did you break into their houses, too?” She asks sarcastically. She knew who this man was, and knowing him, there was actually a chance that he did in fact break into their homes. 

“We paid your friends a little visit,” he exhales, placing his hands into the pockets of his black coat. She was convinced that it was only held together by a single thread.

“Just because I worked with them doesn’t mean they’re my friends. But I assume someone with such  a wide range of past companions as you knows what it’s like,” she states, closing the book and placing it down on the table. “Don’t worry, I know enough about you.”

With a quick move, she throws her feet off the table and gets to her feet almost immediately. Now they were both standing, a staring contest almost ensuing between them. She crossed her arms, waiting for whatever William Butcher came all the way for.

“I had a little yap session with that kid, Gunpowder. Of course, he’s not a kid anymore, but that’s how you remember him, I suppose.”

“And your point is?” She interrupts him. All this foreplay and for what? he would not visit her if it wasn’t something serious. Something had to be up, or he was just here to kill her. Did that scare her? Not at all. 

“Lookie there, you’re extremely chill, I thought you knew who I was!” He exclaims with a grin, his head tilted.

“After a while, you just accept that there isn’t anything that can kill you if you’re me. Now, why did you come here? I suppose you didn’t just jump in to talk about whatever the fuck you talked about with Gunpowder.”

“You, sweetheart, are coming to Russia with us. Gunpowder, and frankly, the news told me that you were the closest person to Soldier Boy. You’re not going to disagree on this, are you?”

For a few moments, she just doesn’t speak. What he said was true, in her eyes at least. She knew Soldier Boy back when he wasn’t even Soldier Boy. Who she knew was Benjamin Monroe.

“And?” That was all she could muster up in that moment. “If you want to know what happened to him, go ask Countess. Whatever went down that day, I wasn’t involved. Ask Grace fucking Mallory. I know you work with her, or at least used to. I still keep in contact with her. That’s how I know about you. Guess trying to help her out in 1984 did have its perk,” she sighs, dropping her arms. 

Brushing past Butcher, she made her way to the kitchen. Few moments later, she was drowning down a whole cup of water. 

“I already went through this with Countess, and even with Grace. Where do you think I got your address from? It’s pretty fucking hard to track somebody who lives up their name this well.”

She really was a ghost at this point. A ghost of the past that is just here to haunt the new generation of assholes. Sometimes she felt like she didn’t even belong here. Sometimes, she was convinced that she should have died somewhere years ago. Killed in war, killed in Nicaragua, killed as a result of old age, but none of these came true. It was almost as if she was immortal. She could have committed suicide years ago, but she didn’t. When she did reach the brink of death, there was Vought. And Vought was not letting their money go.

“But you still know Soldier Boy better than anyone,” Billy continues after the woman’s silence, “and we need that. We are going on a little trip to Europe, where we are going to find whatever killed him, and-”

“Knocked him out,” she interferes, correcting Butcher.

“What?”

“They didn’t kill him. Nothing can. So knocked out it is..”

Butcher closes his eyes for a few moments. This was his version of the eye-rolling move. With his eyes still closed in annoyance, he speaks.

“Yes, knocked out, but we are going to find whatever did that. I know you’ve been investigating his disappearance, and I know you didn’t succeed. Neither did the CIA. This might be your only chance at finding your loverboy, I suggest you take it.”

“Why would you bring me along?” This was her most important question. If Butcher is so keen on finding out what was used against Soldier Boy, then he’s free to do it alone, with his group. It’s not exactly her business. Like he said, she herself tried to find him, but whoever took him was precise and cautious. 

“Because you’re the only fucker on this planet that might know his weaknesses, so you will tell us which of those things we might find have put the world’s most powerful supe into a coma. Or if you really think nothing can end him, then there is a slight chance that we’ll find Mister America himself. Now, what do you say, Ghostie?”

Chapter Text

1942

A denied application. Ben really was right. They didn’t let her join the Compound V program. Ben himself on the other hand…

He took the world by storm. History’s first ever superhero. Interviews followed by interviews, guest appearances, news articles, all about the same person: Soldier Boy. He earned the moniker after somehow leading multiple divisions to victory. 

She would’ve loved to say that this was unfathomable in her mind, but deep down, she knew that Ben was perfectly able to do it. 

The fact that they refused to accept her into the Compound V program didn’t stop her from participating in the war, though. Two weeks after the successful experiment involving Ben, Dr. Sterling was ready to send him to war. But now, Ben, or more like Soldier Boy, was under the rule of Vought. They, on the other hand, were against sending one of their most important assets to the middle of the war.

And for months, they didn’t. 

This wasn’t what Ben had signed up for. His plan was simple: get the V, be sent to war, come home, and hopefully make his father and everybody else proud. And where was he now? Not at war. He was just sitting in some tower, surrounded by people who still thought of him as an experiment. They didn’t want to let him out. 

His thoughts are interrupted by a few knocks on his door, slowly opening without a creak.

“Sir, you’ve got a visitor. On the ground floor,” a neatly dressed man says, peeking through his door.

“I doubt anybody would want to visit me,” Ben grunts, pushing himself up from his bed where he sat until then. It wasn’t his father, that was for sure, not his mom either. 

The elevator comes to a halt with a click, the doors opening without him even laying a hand on them. He liked it, actually. Ben steps out, and his attention is immediately caught by the commotion going on over at the reception. With a smirk, he struts over there.

“He’s not your property! He has the right to leave this building whenever he wants to, I’ve read through your stupid policies two times!” She rages at the man behind the counter. Fury was written over her face, and Ben would’ve hated to be in the place of that man.

“You are not allowed to talk to him officially. Letting you in here is the maximum I can do,” the clerk calmly replies. How much self control could that take?

Ben clears his throat, grabbing the attention of both of them. 

“C’mon Vi,” he motions over for her. 

Vi shoots a spiteful glare towards the clerk before walking over to Ben. 

“I was just talking about you,” she starts, hands placed on her hips. “You’re locked up here like some fairytale princess, is this what you wanted?”

A sigh escapes Ben’s lips as he looks around them. They were surrounded by Vought workers, they were the only people Ben has seen in the past days, week maybe. Vi was right, he was utterly useless if he was just going to be trapped in the tower. He was just a trophy for Vought.

“They said they were going to deploy me when they need to,” Ben replies. He had a feeling that it was all just a lie.

“You really believe this?” She scoffed, shaking her head sideways. 

“No,” he admits. He understood that Vought considered him too precious to be put onto the battlefield. 

They both understood it. But this isn’t going to help anybody.

“I had a talk with Dr. Sterling. We’re going to the war,” she states so calmly that at first, Ben wasn’t even sure that she was not joking. She wasn’t. 

“Vought isn’t letting me. I’m stuck here doing publicity shoots and war propaganda films. I’ll try to convince them, see what I can-”

“Sterling already received permission to take you on a mission. If you do well there, they will let you out. You’d still have those films and photoshoots, but at least you would actually play a part in the war. I’m here to take you to Sterling.”

Ben’s brows furrow, his eyes slightly widen.

“You’re working with Sterling now?” He inquires. Last time he checked Vi was not part of Sterling’s operations. 

“I’m a field medic now. Assigned next to you. So wherever you go, I go,” she states, turning on her heels and heading towards the exit. 

For some moments, Ben stands there, thunderstruck. He’s being taken to the war? And Vi is going with him? As a field medic? 

2022

“Really, Butcher?” A tall man asks, pointing at Vi standing in the doorway. “You’re really bringing along a supe? The same supe who was in the same team as Soldier Boy? You think Vought is just letting her get off the radar?”

“I’m not with Vought, smartass. Officially I am, but I don’t have a chip, or my whole phone bugged by them. They aren’t sure whether I’m still alive, they think I died in 1984,” she explains as calmly as possible.

She didn’t expect much else from the group of Billy Butcher. They didn’t like her, but she wasn’t fond of them either, at least not yet. But if they resembled their leader in any way, then she will likely leave the group before they even step foot in Russia. 

Russia, out of all places. She didn’t like the cold, and Ben didn’t either. Unlike the rest of Payback, she was in the dark about what had happened in Nicaragua all those years ago. Gunpowder was the only one who didn’t have anything to do with whatever was going on, but the rest of them? Even Crimson Countess, who was supposed to be Ben’s girlfriend. Did he love her? A bit. Did he love somebody even more? Yes, even if she wasn’t aware of it.

The following day they were already at the airport, boarding some Russian woman’s private jet. How did they get their hands on it? Vi had no idea, because it was definitely not owned by Butcher’s friends, if he even had any. It was on the plane where she heard the fully orchestrated plan for the first time. 

Chapter Text

1943

The attack on the base was unexpected, for two reasons: one, it was supposed to be secret, and two, everyone who was there was either injured, or a doctor or nurse. 

This couldn’t have been an incident, they attacked almost right after all the abled-bodied soldiers had left the base. The panic was understandable. 

“Miss Barone!” the doctor bursts in, panting as he rushes through the tent. 

“You heard it too, Doc?” she worriedly asks, her voice almost quivering. 

They were defenseless, and had maybe ten soldiers in total at the moment. The rest? Gone to battle the same people that were infiltrating the camp at that moment. It wouldn’t be a surprise if this was all just the elaborate plan of the enemy.

“I did,” he says, placing a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder, “and I want you to take out everybody from this tent, there’s a wagon nearby. Colton’s going to help you, but if you see that your situation is too fatal, get on the wagon yourself. Ben would murder me if something happened to you while he was away. I trust you,” he shouts the last part, exiting the tent in a rush.

Left with little to no information, she quickly glanced around the room. Gunshots and grenades could be heard from outside, and the patients inside felt the same way she did: scared.

“What now, Miss?” a young, but deeply injured soldier asks, laying on the mattress laid on the ground. His left leg had to be amputated, he couldn’t move by himself. Other soldiers inside the tent shared his situation. 

What’re you going to do now, hm? It would be wrong to just leave them here to die… 

“Okay, uh, everybody who is able to stand, I want you all to follow Sergeant Colton to the wagon, he’ll provide some safety. Go in small groups, you’ll be less likely to be spotted. Meanwhile I’ll try to get the others out that can’t walk. Go!” she ordered.

Was it visible that she was shaking? She was. With a steady nod, Sergeant Colton leads a group of injured soldiers outside. 

“What’s with me, Miss?” The same blond boy speaks. He was the only one left in the tent now. 

“Don’t worry Kessler, I’ll get you out of here,” she grunts as she places the injured soldier’s arm over her shoulder. 

“That’s suicide, we don’t have weapons. You’ll die,” he says weakly. 

“I might, but you won’t, not if it depends on me. C’mon, we have a wagon to reach.”

Kessler didn’t have much to lose, most people here had their own kids, wives, homes, but this boy was young, maybe the minimum age to get accepted. Vi knew this too, but she wasn’t heartless, she never was. This boy was naive, or hopeful, or who knows, maybe both, but one thing was sure: he didn’t belong to a war. That’s why Vi was so insistent on bringing him out of there.

The wagon was in view, with Colton ushering the injured soldiers onto it, pure worry and fear written all over his face, and for obvious reasons. His face was dusty and dirty, the original color of his face now distorted. He anxiously waved his hand towards himself, but this was the fastest pace Vi could go with Kessler over her shoulder.

Their time was running out, the sound of gunfire closing in. 

“Leave me here, you’ll go faster,” he exhales, averting Vi’s gaze.

“We’re just a few steps away. C’mon.” She was technically dragging him by this point. Kessler wasn’t exactly dying, he was just giving up hope and the movements caused his wound to bleed again. Vi didn’t care at this point, they can fix that once on the wagon. It would be a lot harder to fix ten bullet wounds because they stopped to rest in the middle of all this.

“I’m going to tell my kids about you, if I’ll ever have some,” Kessler speaks up, just as the two reach the wagon. Vi cautiously lifts Kessler’s arm from over her shoulder, carefully placing him into the care of the sergeant. She wasn’t going to lift a whole man up there, let an actual trained man handle that.

She looks inside the wagon, her past patients all in it. One face was missing, though.

“Where’s Dr. Sterling?” she asks, turning back to Colton. 

“He took off right when the attack started, tasked me with helping you. He might still be in the bunker.”

Shit. No time for more thoughts. With quickening steps, she heads towards what Sterling called “the bunker”, and he was right, it was a bunker. Why did she have to care so much about everybody around here? She’s been on many expeditions with Ben and Dr. Sterling, and throughout these travels, she heard many stories from many people. She had the chance to talk with World War l veterans, and their stories could be put into a horror movie. They’ve done things that are so god awful, went through so traumatic experiences, all to survive. One thing was common in almost all their stories: they had to stop being caring. The only person they relied on were themselves. 

With swift and forceful tugs, she forces the bunker’s metal trapdoor open, climbing down with the hope that nobody from the enemy notices her. She should’ve left him there, that was the smart choice, but the less moral one. If there is a chance he can be saved, just a slight one, then it’s worth taking the risk. Sterling’s experiments were evolving, he was on the brink of creating even more Compound V. 

Climbing down the ladder, she is surrounded by silence, only the sound of the gunfight above sinking through the trapdoor. Still, her steps were as cautious and quiet as possible, just in case. It was always just in case. Don’t leave the patients for a minute, just in case. Get a knife, just in case. Don’t let the patients scream while you amputate their leg without any pain suppressors, just in case. Just in case somebody attacks them and takes them by surprise. Just in case somebody tries to kill you in your sleep. Just in case the enemy finds you.

Her boots make contact with the cemented floor of the bunker. Cement wasn’t the first thing she stepped into. On top of the floor was a large, expanding puddle of blood. It was like stepping in mud, and she only noticed it when both her feet were on the ground, and she had the chance to look around. Her breath caught in her throat, she could no longer scream. Don’t scream. Just in case they hear it. 

Almost next to the ladder was the lifeless body of a soldier, Vi recognized him almost immediately, she saved his life once. This time, there wasn’t much she could do. His throat was slit, and the puddle was from his blood. Move, move! The enemy already infiltrated the bunker, and now there was a chance that Dr. Sterling met the same fate as the soldier that Vi just walked past. 

The hallway was empty, behind the doors to the corridor were only empty rooms. There were no signs of human activities. Maybe they already left. Maybe, just maybe, this was why they came here, and already left the bunker by the time Sterling reached it. She peeked into every room she came across, in the hopes that the familiar face would be behind one of them. 

She wanted to just hide in one of those rooms, under a table and just cry, but this was not the time for these. She wanted to sit down and sleep through this whole thing, but instead she was walking in a slow pace through the corridors, her legs and fingers shaking. Every noise, no matter how subtle, was a warning sign. It was as if her senses got stronger for those dreadful moments. No weapon, no help. Where the fuck is Ben when I need him? 

Ben was nowhere near her. 

She pushes one of the doors open, as quietly as possible. Just in case. Because she was scared. She was anxious. Behind one of the tables that got turned over, she spots somebody slouching against it. He wasn’t wearing an army uniform. It was a lab coat on him. 

“Doc? That you?” she whispers, her voice quivering.

The man behind the table slowly turns his head towards the sound, looking over his shoulder.

“Miss Barone?” he mumbles in a low tone. He, too, was afraid. 

“I’m taking you out of here, Doc. Don’t die on me here,” she scoots closer to the man, now crouching. “I didn’t see anybody on my way here. We’ll get out of this.”

Jinxed it. Not even seconds pass after she states that, a loud thud echoes in the hallways. It’s followed by grunts and screams, this same cycle repeating itself for so many moments.

“You said it’s clear,” Sterling whispers, trembling behind that table. Vi crawls over to him, her eyes fixed on the glass window of the door. The color of the window changes from one moment to the next. Red drops of blood trickle down from it slowly.

Sterling peeked out from behind the table, only to see blood spattered on the door, a shadow behind it. His mouth remains open, his eyes are so wide that his eyeballs are about to pop out of their place. His vocal cords were weak, producing low hoarse sounds. She was on the verge of screaming, tears starting to gather in her eyes. 

Vi pulls the man back behind the table with a firm movement. He could see that she was having a hard time. Sterling couldn't take it, he just couldn't. He was a scientist, this was not what he set out to do. His vocal cords produce a scream so powerful that it took Vi a second to react. Panicking, she looked around, then with all her strength she brought her palm to the man's mouth. Shut up! 

After taking deep breaths, Sterling was finally quiet on his own. But then the door opened, with that characteristic squeak, the sound of boots could already be heard. We can still be saved . Vi had to forcefully hold Sterling behind the table, who was ready to surrender. They probably don't know we're here yet. There's still a little chance.

There was an eerie silence in the air. Vi wanted to give Sterling the instructions, but if she spoke now, she wouldn't again. Whoever was inside had to be tricked. Vi was never the strongest physically. She realized early on that she had to win over the others in a different way. Sterling was the one who got her here, and now she's getting him out of here. She was kept from this work by so many, she had coworkers still in Philadelphia who would have stood better in this war than a good number of men, but they were not allowed to join for one reason. Which is why no one but Sterling let her here either.

As quietly as possible, crouching, she moves towards the side edge of the table. As the soldier came closer to the table, Vi moved away towards the other side. She nudged Sterling gently with the tip of her finger, then nodded her head and motioned for him to follow suit. Vi pushed Sterling in front of her. If one of them gets out, it should be the one who knows how to make Compound V. 

Sterling looked at Vi confused, fiddling with his fingers. Vi's mouth moves, making no sound, strongly articulating the word RUN. He looks at the soldier who is already standing with his back to them and is still approaching the table, then back at the woman. Vi just nods reassuringly. With a quiet but deep breath, Sterling jumps to his feet and runs for the door.

The soldier didn't need any more, he immediately turns around at the sound of footsteps, aiming his machine gun in the direction of the door. It was late, Sterling was already down the hall. Vi picks up a nearby chair, and with a swift movement, hits the soldier in the face. Let's do something lasting.

Sterling ran as fast as his legs could carry him, anywhere but far from that room. His rampage is interrupted by a familiar figure. He also runs with wide eyes, just in the opposite direction. 

"There is an enemy!" Sterling attempts to warn him, but almost as if his warning fell on deaf ears, the man didn’t stop, just ran past him.

"And Vi too!" The man shouts back at her, not looking back. One goal floated in front of his eyes: to get her out of there.

Chapter Text

1943

The door slams open with a thud, and the scene behind it only stirred worry in Ben. 

He was quickly alerted that it was all a trap, that their enemy was here for the camp. The camp where Vi was right then. He didn’t need to be told twice to bolt back immediately, only to be greeted by the sight of corpses and Sergeant Colton revving up the wagon with the injured soldiers on it. 

“Everybody on here?” he asked the sergeant, just in time before the car left. Colton knew that Vi and Sterling were still there, but he wasn’t going to risk the lives of this many people for two others. There was another wagon for the soldiers that were deployed with Ben, if Vi and the scientist make it out in time, they’ll be able to catch that.

“No, Miss Barone and Doc are still in the bunker,” Colton replied. 

“And nobody tried to get them out?” Ben raged, storming off right after, not even waiting for an answer. His destination was the bunker.

Inside was a bloody mess, the floor littered with corpses. There was less ventilation down in the bunker, the smell was already turning awful. Ben knew that there was no time to waste. He burst through all the doors in his path, with the hope that Vi might be behind one of them. Alive.

On his run, he always took a quick glance at the corpses. None of them resembled Vi or Sterling, and this somehow comforted him in a weird way. He felt relief was over his, just a tiny wave of it every time he came across a corpse. It was just a tiny wave, because deep down, there still sat the dreadful feeling that the next corpse he will find is not going to be an unknown soldier. 

That was when Sterling came running right towards him, with an overly anxious look. After that, there was the door with blood splatters. He felt the Doc’s presence behind himself when he opened it. Sterling just escaped from that same room, but with Ben, he mustered up the courage to turn back for the same person who turned back for him. 

It’s fair this way, he told himself.

This isn’t fair, Ben told himself. He was the first to stumble into the room.

In almost the middle of the room, there laid a dead soldier, blood pooling around him. What shocked Ben wasn’t the soldier, rather the other presence in the room, almost fading away. 

Slumped against a wall was a blood-covered Vi. 

Ben slides over to her upon entering. At first, Ben couldn’t tell whose blood it was on her. Hers, or the random soldier’s. Still, it was visible that she wasn’t in the best shape.

“Hey, what- oh,” he exhales, his green eyes widening slightly as realization dawns on him. When his eyes landed on her abdomen, it was obvious that whatever went down in that room didn’t end well. He just confirmed that the blood was hers.

“Hi Ben,” she weakly smiles. 

If Ben is the last thing she sees before greeting death, then she will happily go. 

“Doc, do something!” Ben orders Sterling, his eyes never leaving the wounds of the woman in front of him. Multiple shot wounds. This is what you get when you take somebody’s eye with a chair, Vi thought. 

“She’s losing a lot of blood,” Sterling lowers himself to Vi’s level, inspecting the wounds. “There isn’t much I could do. Not that I know of.”

“C’mon Doc, there has to be something! Anything!” Ben was desperate. He could feel the life slowly evaporating from Vi, right in front of him. For several moments, Sterling stays silent, averting the gaze of Ben. He’s not going to look into his eyes if Vi dies. 

“I… I might have something. But it’s-”

“Don’t care Doc, just do it for fuck’s sake!” Ben blurts out.

“It’s the V.”

Ben hated the idea of Vi getting that injection, but he would rather have himself a supe rather than a dead friend. 

“Do it,” he sternly speaks, looking over to Sterling. “I don't care what I said back then, if that’s what can save her, then get to it now!”

Vi was almost like an outside observer at that moment. She could feel her conscience slipping away slowly, her vision distorting with each passing moment. Still, she heard what the other two were talking about. She heard how desperate Ben proved to be.

“If I died, would that be the worst thing?” she weakly asks. She didn’t mind death, she was just afraid of it. 

“Yes,” Ben stammers. 

“Sorry, near-death contemplation.”

“Your life’s on the line, not now. Please.”
“Y’know Ben,” she starts, “you’re just a tall child. You insist that I live. As you cling to many other things besides. If your dad still won't be proud, he can screw himself.”

Sterling enters the room, sweat trickling down his forehead, not leaving much time for Ben to reply anything. Between his fingers was a tube of Compound V, the blue liquid shining inside. 

“This might be a bad idea. When we injected you, everything was sterilized, and your body was in perfect condition, what if-”

“No! No time for this Doc! If you’re not gonna do it, give it to me!”

Sterling didn’t plan on losing Vi.

“She’s my assistant. I’ll do it,” he sighs. His eyes focused on the needle entering the tube-like container in his hand. He knelt down next to Vi, shaking his hands before beginning the procedure. He didn’t want to fuck it all up because his shaky hands. 

Ben just watches as the needle enters Vi. He had very few things to lose, and she was one of them. Ben was against her using the V, but things were different back then. 

“It might hurt,” Sterling gently warns the woman. No reply, she was fighting to keep her eyes open by now, speaking was beyond her abilities. “Ben is here by your side if that helps.”

The V leaves the injection needle, entering Vi’s veins. It wasn’t really visible from the outside. 

“How long before it does anything?” Ben quietly asks, watching Vi.

“I can’t tell for sure. Like I said, you got injected under different circumstances. We’ll have to see for ourselves.” 

Ben simply rested his hand on top of Vi’s shoulder. He didn’t hold on to it with force or shake it. He just rested his hand on top. His expression was unreadable.

Chapter Text

2022

The land of artists, thinkers, bears, and vodka. As cold as ever, much to Vi’s dismay. Took them about nine hours with that plane, or private jet or whatever the exact term for that is, and during those nine hours, Butcher didn’t bother saying anything about his plan to his team. It was as if the whole team was falling apart. She’s seen it happen before, and also saw the outcome of it. The Boys were spiraling down the same path as Payback once was.

“Where the fuck did you bring us?” She asks in a laid-back tone, the question aimed at Butcher. It was a fucking gas station, and she was convinced that they didn’t just stop to refuel the suspicious-looking white van.

“You really thought I’d let you all sleep on the side of the street? How dare you think so lowly of me?” Butcher speaks with his signature smirk. Yes, she did think of him so lowly. She knew about some things that he put his team through, this would definitely not be beyond him.

Hours had passed. Butcher disappeared almost right after their arrival. Nobody knew where he went, or how long he would be gone. Vi was just left with the group of strangers. Technically, they weren’t strangers, she was always caught up with the latest news, not to mention her contacts at the CIA. Therefore, she had minimal knowledge of everybody there. 

“Can we switch channels?” One of them asks from the ground. His accent was a heavy French, and if somebody doesn’t get him a stylist, Vi knew that she will take matters into her own hands. 

“Um, sure,” the boy sitting closest to the TV replies, leaning forward to get the remote. His hair strands were curly, and looked older than he likely was in actuality. He flips to the next channel. That TV was the only thing keeping the soul of the group’s members in themselves. Not like they understood much, their knowledge of Russian was limited. 

It was a news channel, and not even a minute in, the same boy’s face appeared. He is so visibly frustrated. He had his good reason, from the context, and silly sound effects and editing, it was clear that the news was making fun of him. Nobody understood a single word, but the graphics gave away that he was being parodied after Homelander and Starlight announced their romance. Vi had a guess that this was merely for the cameras and attention, it was such a Vought thing to do. 

With a groan, the boy stands up, and with a swift pull, he unplugs the television. No more entertainment for The Boys. 

“Good news,” Butcher steps through the door almost immediately after. “Nina’s had a word with her Kremlin piss boys, and she’s located in a lab.” That weirdly unsettling smile of his sat on his face while he talked, and even after he finished talking.

“That’s great. Where is it?” The same boy that shut the TV off asks. Hughie Campbell.

“Before she tells us that, we just got to do a little job for her.”

This was off to a bad start. Vi never met this Nina, and didn’t plan on doing so, but if she was affiliated with Butcher, in Russia, then it was no good. 

“Ain’t nothing,” he continues, “just some local oligarch who got in her bad books.”

The displeasure was too visible on everybody’s faces for Butcher to not notice. The Frenchman stood up, shutting his eyes in frustration.

“Non. I don’t do this anymore,” he says, raising his hands up by his sides in defense. “Definitely not for Nina.”

“Well, that’s a good job then, innit?” Butcher retorts, grinning. “Cause you’re not the one doing it. She is.”

His finger points in the direction of the black haired girl sitting behind him. Her confusion is visible, and she likely had just as much spirit to get the job done as everybody else that resided in that room. 

“Sorry love, victim of your own success. Now, Nina’s got you in. You’ll be a wanker’s pro girl for the night. You just get in there, give the cunt a good noose, and get the fuck out. Easy Peasy.”

“You’re seriously going to send a mute girl in there? Look, I don’t doubt that she’s strong, but really?” Vi cuts in. The black haired girl was pretty, yes, but Butcher was basically selling her off to Nina with this. As a prostitute, really?

“I’d just love to send your ass in there, but you appearing there would be like we’re sending that cunt Homelander to their doorstep. Now, don’t be a blighter, and stay where you are. She’s going in.”

The mute girl whips out her phone, typing at godless speed, while the french man leans closer to Butcher. 

“I’m begging you, no,” he pleads, but to no avail. Butcher’s mind was set.

“Look, Frenchie, it was this or Cherie’s head,” he explains. 

Vi took notice of the fact that MM and Hughie stayed out of the conversation. They kept quiet, standing near the unplugged TV. Yes, that plan was decent, but Butcher was an asshole for not even asking them about what he had in mind. 

With Frenchie and Kimiko gone on Nina’s mission, the rest of the group stayed to wait for their return. Now she was stuck with MM, Hughie, and in a far corner was Butcher. MM wasn’t even in the same room as her, he was having some pep talk with the group's leader. Clearing his throat, Hughie breaks the silence between the two of them.

“So uh… Do you have any name I could call you by? I mean we have Annie, her hero name’s Starlight, but y’know we call her Annie, so I was wondering if you had any other name besides Ghost. I mean you obviously do, but…” he fumbles with his words. 

“Ghost,” she plainly replies.

“Yeah, but I was thinking of a more casual name. Something less… threatening.”

“My name is personal. If somebody reaches a certain level of my trust, they can call me that. I’m still building that up with you.”

Hughie purses his lips, nodding along as he tries his best to avert Vi’s gaze.

Chapter Text

This recording is an interview with the Ghost conducted by Jim Halloway from 1959, June 4th. 

When sat down for an interview, Ghost humbly replied to Mr. Halloway’s questions about her job, opinions, and experiences.

INTERVIEWER

How does it feel like to be the first ever female superhero? It’s a big feat, isn’t it?

GHOST 

It does feel amazing, though I believe other women should have the opportunity open towards them. Go ahead, Vought!

INTERVIEWER

So far this field is extremely male dominated. I see you already noticed that.

GHOST

It’s hard not to.

INTERVIEWER

Do you think women could be as great superheroes as men?

GHOST

I absolutely stand by that. Women don’t even need to have superpowers to be heroes. I bet that while most men are tuning in and watching this interview, their wife or mother is working her ass off. My mother would work long shifts, then come home, do chores around the house, and even look after me. She never showed signs of being tired. There are so many that share her situation all around the world.

INTERVIEWER

I see you are a strong supporter of feminism, then.

GHOST

Everybody should, even men. Especially men. Are you a feminist, Mr. Halloway?

INTERVIEWER

Yes Ma’am.

GHOST

Very well then, Mr. Halloway.

INTERVIEWER

Speaking of feminism and girls, over the years, you became a major symbol for girls all around the globe. How do you feel about that?

GHOST

It’s pretty amazing to be idolized by so many girls, I wish I had somebody like this back when I was younger. 

INTERVIEWER

Do you have any messages for them? 

GHOST

My message is that whatever your dream is, don’t let anybody bring you down. Who knows, it might be you sitting here in a few years! 

INTERVIEWER

Now, my list of questions requires me to turn back to our prepared questions. What exactly is your ability?

GHOST

Density manipulation. Do you want me to elaborate?

INTERVIEWER

Yes, please.

GHOST

I can change the density of objects and myself. For example, I have a feather. If I want to, I can change the feather’s density for it to be heavier than myself. Or you have a heavy box, one you can’t even carry with two hands, but I change its density, and now you can easily carry it around with one hand. 

INTERVIEWER 

That sounds handy!

GHOST

It is. 

INTERVIEWER

I think that’s all for today. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the end of this episode. I would like to thank our guest, the Ghost, for attending. Tune in tomorrow at 7 PM for fresh news and interviews!

Chapter Text

The van came to a halt not far from the lab itself. Vi tried to gather all of her faith, but placing it all into Butcher might not be the best idea. She knew that too. But Ben was at stake, just a chance that she will see him again, even if it’s for a second. This wasn’t the time for doubts, as much as that was what clouded her mind as she, along with the rest of Butcher’s group jumped out the van.

“That chick Nina didn’t do us no favors,” MM exhales, clicking the flashlight in his hand to life, “this is a military compound.”

“Russian military compound,” Butcher adds, his hands fiddling with the box filled with electrical wiring on the fence, “be like storming a Baja Fresh.”

“That might explain why neither the CIA or myself could find him,” Vi brushes past them, through the wired fence with ease. The rest of The Boys were still outside, waiting for Butcher to work his magic. Why didn’t he just let Hughie do it, Vi wondered, isn’t he the tech guy? The original idea was that she would phase through the fence, because Butcher was sure that there would be one, with each of the group’s members, and get them inside. 

Unfortunately for them, there was one flaw in Vi’s powers: she wasn’t able to use her ability with other living things. At least not anymore. Clothes, weapons, that she could manage, it would be a real fuck-up if she had to phase through everything naked and unarmed. But if she was to hold a cat while phasing through a wall for example, that cat would die on the spot, either falling out of her embrace when she steps through the wall, with the animal not being able to share her power, or maybe, in worse instances, it does phase through along with her, but becomes a pulp of distorted flesh as soon as it goes through the wall. 

Standing next to Vi was the meek Hughie. She could feel the boy being a ball of stress, maybe he was fear as a person, because she can’t possibly be that intimidating. Clearing his throat, he speaks.

“So uh, how come you tagged along on… this? I call it Operation ResQ. ‘Cause, y’know, instead of resCUE it’s re-”

“Yes, I get it. I might be old, but that’s not something new. And anyways, I keep up with what’s going on in the world.”

Butcher lifts his crowbar, smashing it against the circuit board on the fence. It didn’t take long for all the electricity to disappear, the compound falling into darkness. With the electric fence now deactivated, the rest of the group hurries inside, all of them in dirty blue jumpsuits. Once the Russians restore the electricity, it’s over for them.

With a threatened guard held at gunpoint by MM, the door to the lab opens. Their flashlights were dim and a blueish color, barely illuminating anything in the room. With a swift swing of his handgun, MM smacks the guard in the head leaving the man to flatten on the ground. He was now unconscious, and they had the lab all to themselves. 

Vi’s fingers brush on the surface of a pile of dusted documents laying on a metal table. To her, it was incoherent data written in russian. Maybe to the doctors and scientists these all meant something, no, they did for sure. It could be that those documents are the key to what happened to Ben. It’s possible to get a Russian translator back home. With that thought, she sweeped the documents into her arms, then placed them in a bag held by Frenchie. Right now, their goal was to confiscate as many documents, tests, and other objects from the lab as possible. 

“Hey, fantôme, check this out,” Frenchie enthusiastically exhales, his eyes fixed on something Vi could not see at that moment. 

“Better be worth it,” she murmurs under her breath, walking over to where the frenchman was standing, leaning forward. 

Squinting, her eyes spotted something tiny inside a clear, plastic cage. 

“That’s a hamster?” she absentmindedly asked, not even expecting any response, she wasn’t even aware that she said it out loud. MM and Kimiko slowly saunter over to them, now all of them staring at the weird-looking hamster squeaking inside the cage. Or was it a box? A plastic box or a plastic cage? 

“Look, look,” Frenchie whispers, a smile at the corner of his lips as the creature turns around. “What does it say?” he asks as he motions over to a tiny text on the side of the cage. Or box. To Vi’s dismay, it was, obviously, written in russian. 

“Says his name is Jamie,” MM answers, straightening up. 

“Jamie, hi,” Frenchie chuckles. 

“I was expecting his name to be Dimitri or some of that sort. Now we’re up against fucking Jamie Lannister,” Vi breathes out, walking away from the cage. Or box. 

She had priorities, and that priority was not a hamster. This was her first, last, and only chance at finding Ben. The rest of the group can stare at that animal all they want, but it’s not going to get between her and the truth about Ben. Because contrary to popular belief, she had no idea about what happened in Nicaragua. 

Rapid pounding breaks her thought, immediately catching her attention. 

“What the fuck is going on?” She rushes back to Frenchie, Kimiko and MM, the noise coming from their direction. To her surprise, it was the hamster bashing itself against the wall of the plastic cage. Or box.

“Shit, a casual hamster would’ve died from the first hit,” she says, her brows furrowing as she tries to make out what this could possibly be. Her best guess was that the hamster, or Jamie as Frenchie kept calling it, was just part of some secret experiment. 

Turning his head in her direction, Frenchie speaks up.

“Oh, you had one?” he asks, his voice laced with sympathy.

“Nah. Gunpowder did. But uh… that hamster didn’t meet a nice end. Ben used to laugh so much at it.”

“Is Ben your… or was…” Frenchie speaks, searching for the right words. That was when it struck Vi that nobody outside of her and some Payback members knew his name, that for the public, he was just Soldier Boy. Before she could come up with anything, another voice cuts in. 

“I heard that hamsters can die in the stupidest ways. Did something like that happen to him?” MM quietly asks, waiting to hear a no, that it died in a sad way. Well…

“That fucker got into the printer and was soaked in ink. It survived, I found it and told Gunpowder to clean his hamster. He did wash it, but he put it in the microwave to dry it,” she recounts, still disgusted by the thought of the microwave. “He later had another one. He got mad at it and sprayed it with Windex.”

Stifling back a laugh, the trio stood around her, purposefully averting eye contact with her. Vi was so, so ready for this reaction, and she wasn’t offended by it at all. Ben laughed at it. She did too. Gunpowder, not so much. 

“You’re allowed to laugh,” she supplied. Of course, with this permission, she unleashed it. Frenchie was wheezing so hard, that just that could make somebody laugh. Jamie the hamster was still going apeshit inside the cage. Or box.

With a crack, the glass of the cage - or box - breaks, some security light switching from green to red. The laughs stopped immediately, their eyes now spying the ceiling, where the ominous orange hued lighting came from. 

“I told you not to fuck with him, goddamn it,” MM hisses, his words aimed at Frenchie. 

“Look lively!” Butcher’s loud, accented voice cuts in. 

Drawing their weapons, everybody was on high alert. Guns loaded for Frenchie and MM, and abilities readied for Kimiko and Vi. Hughie was defenseless, while Butcher maybe had a crowbar, maybe he didn’t, Vi didn’t get a good look. 

Without any precautions or waiting, Russians storm the lab, rapid gunfire emanating from their way. Vi heads straight into the midst of it, because these people were just as much a distraction as that hamster that’s about to break its cage. This was just getting in her way, just a bunch of people that were trying their best to come between her and the truth. There were no signs of Ben inside the lab, but he sure as hell wasn’t dead either, Vi was convinced.

Her hand phases into the body of one of the guards, but before the guard could move away, she switches her density back. The man gasps as Vi snatches her hand out, leaving a gaping hole in the guard. Yes, her ability might not be as flashy as Crimson Countess’, it was brutal but effective. And most importantly, it worked against everyone. 

Gunshots continuously echo in the lab, the guards biting the dust, slowly all of them meeting their maker.
“I’m out!” MM shouts all of a sudden. Vi rushes over to him, escorting the man to the flipped over table. Frenchie was already behind another, Kimiko crouching down next to him. 

“Oi cunts,” Butcher steps out from wherever he was hiding until that point. MM screams at him, waving his hands around in panic. The guards didn’t waste a second, their aim was on Butcher. Bullets rained on him, but as if he was bulletproof, it all tumbled down to the ground. MM quit his screaming, now watching the scene unfold with furrowed brows. Butcher eliminates a guard with his yellow, glowing laser eyes. So not only is he bulletproof, he’s also got laser eyes. I thought you were hunting supes Butcher, not becoming one.

As if this wasn’t shocking enough, Hughie appeared all of a sudden behind her and MM, missing his blue jumpsuit. Vi felt bad for just even turning around, the view wasn’t for her.

“You’re stark-naked,” she quietly declares, eyes fixed on the ground. Hughie’s fist was blood-soaked, his eyes almost twitching from fear as he softly chuckled. The guard that tried to sneak up on her and MM was now laying on the floor, lifeless. All eyes in the room were fixed on him and his naked body. Not Vi’s or Kimiko’s, they didn’t want to stare at him at all. But let The Boys be boys, I suppose.

“Your dick’s out,” MM sternly says. Finally.

Chapter Text

Of course, a confrontation followed this. MM was freaked out, scolding Butcher for being reckless, the word ‘fuck’ flying around so many times that Vi couldn’t even count. She stood next to Hughie, who was smiling down at his cast that he got for his broken arm. The thing was, it wasn’t broken anymore. 

“So you’re a supe now?” Vi quietly asks, her hands placed on a nearby table palm-down, leaning backwards. She even thought about sitting up there, but this was still a lab. Contrary to MM, she wasn’t mad at Hughie and Butcher. Okay, maybe a bit at Butcher, but not at Hughie. Yes, she was rude with him at times, that she had to admit, but isn’t she the same with everybody else?

After a few hums and a moment of silence, the boy answers.

“Looks like it. But only for 24 hours if I’m right. So no big deal,” he sighs joyfully. He didn’t understand his power, and that was the problem. Vi was alright with Hughie being a supe for more than 24 hours, but only if he is able to control his abilities. 

“You seemed surprised when you took my move. You never killed anyone with your bare hands, did you?” She said as sympathetically as possible. If Butcher is not going to have the superpower version of ‘The Talk’ with Hughie, then likely nobody else will. So, she took it upon herself.

Hughie glances down at his hand, some stains of blood still visible on it even though he wiped his hands so aggressively into his jumpsuit some minutes before.

“It felt so… weird. I mean, my hand was literally in his chest, I could feel his blood and organs on my hands, it creeps me out and disgusts me, I didn’t plan on doing it, my body just… well, you know. But I did it, and helped MM and you with it, so, I’d say it was worth it,” he replies.

So he really didn’t know what he was doing.

“Therefore you’re saying you don’t have control over it,” she states, looking Hughie straight in the eye. 

“I… I don’t think so. But it’s going to wear off tomorrow, and I won’t use it anymore, I swear,” he rambles, talking incessantly. 

“Still, you need to know how to use your powers, at least the basics. If you go and use it unprepared, it can cause more damage than good. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I was there since the first supe, and it’s just going all off the rails nowadays. Supes are getting too much creativity and free time on their hands, and they don’t usually leave their powers out of it.”

Hughie’s brows furrow for a second, like he has a question but is just too afraid to ask it. He shuts his eyes tightly, letting a chuckle escape his lips.

“I don’t mean this in a bad way, but how uh, old are you exactly? I mean, you've been here since the first superhero?”

“Some supes just don’t age. Liberty, or now Stormfront, Soldier Boy, and then there’s me. Nowadays, it’s less common, that’s why you don’t really hear about non-aging superheroes. Hell, I’d bet Noir is too, that has to be the only way he’s still kicking and is alive and well. Maybe not well, but who am I to judge?” She exhales, a smile creeping its way onto her face. 

Hughie stands still for a few seconds as if he’s stunned, sucking up all the information. Back at the van, she said she keeps up with the news, and guessing by the fact that she was aware of the Liberty-Stormfront situation, she wasn’t lying. The Ghost, even if Butcher didn’t plan on it, could be a serious source of intel from the supes, with so many years of insight and experience. 

“Doesn’t it get… y’know, boring after a while? Living for so long?” He manages to ask.

Vi didn’t answer right then and there. She was trying to find the right words, but with MM and Butcher’s quarrel still ongoing in the background, it wasn’t an easy task. 

“After a while, you will feel miserable. Knowing you can’t die. You know the feeling when you get a surprise scare, and as a reaction you flinch? It’s a defense mechanism when you feel threatened, even if you’re not aware of it. I don’t do that. Instead, I change density. The attack goes through me. Or I just refuse to let go of my life, hoping for something, anything.”

This was the best way to describe it. Sometimes, she was glad that she got to live for so long. At times, she wished that it would have been her in Nicaragua instead of Ben. 

“I want to leave the world better. For so long, I thought that was what I was doing. But now, I’m afraid that I have no purpose here. They’ve got Homelander and the other Vought marionettes.

“So you’re not one of the bad supes?” Hughie asks hopefully.

“No supe is good. We all killed people, even if we managed to save some. You go to a fight, you have to kill enemies there. For your side, that might be good, but those soldiers you just killed, they had a family too, a life. On their side, you’re just a cold-blooded murderer. It all just depends on whose side you’re on.”

Hughie slowly, very slowly nods at what she was saying. In a way, he understood. He never killed anybody up until he detonated Translucent to shreds. At that point, it was the worst that could happen, he thought. Then Annie told him that Translucent had a son. And this is exactly what Vi was talking about right now. A-Train might have killed Robin, but he still cared for his brother and family. These are things he wouldn’t know from just the surface of things. He got hold of all this information by descending into the rabbit hole, and Butcher was the rabbit that dragged him down in the first place.

“I can tell by that look on your face that to some extent, you understand what I’m saying. Back in World War 2, there was a man I saved, before I got the V. He later on had a son. I got to meet him, the boy ended up working for the CIA. Then they deployed him in the War on Terror. Needless to say he died somewhere in Panjshir Valley. I was mad at whoever killed him, but then again, I did the same. I also killed people, their relatives probably viewed me in a similar way I view whoever got to him,” she recalls. After so many years, she was still in contact with the one-legged man, up until his death in the 80s. “But enough yapping, let’s see what the others are up to!”

Hughie got jumpscared by the sudden mood change. One moment she’s talking about the War on Terror, the next she’s patting his shoulder with a smile. 

Chapter Text

“Break glass in case of emergencies, you know, like this one,” Butcher calmly explains his situation to the others. They all disapproved of his idea of shooting himself up with what turned out to be Temp V.

“And you give this to petite Hughie?” Frenchie exclaims, clearly not happy with the fact that Butcher was spreading his drug agenda to the kid. Or was he still a kid? Not exactly, but he was the youngest and most innocent out of them all. As if killing is a wonderful job to evolve in… 

“I didn’t give it to him! The thieving git must have broken into the case and nicked it!” He says, his head turning towards Hughie. Who’s going to tell this guy that he’s in America?

Hughie just stood there with a gaping mouth, not daring to answer Butcher. 

“Let’s just find this thing and get the fuck out of here, all right?” Butcher continued after it became obvious that Hughie was not going to give an answer.

“You’re better than this, kid,” MM remarks, his words aimed at Hughie before he walks off. 

The boy scoffed, in a state of some disbelief. MM was right though, who knows what this Temp V can do, what its side effects or long term effects are, Vi couldn’t disagree with this. But she had more important things than this right now, they weren’t here to talk or hang out. They were after whatever the Russians, or Payback used on Soldier Boy. On Ben . Butcher was ready to find Ben’s corpse, he was convinced that they killed him one way or another, but Vi? She knew Ben and his abilities. There wasn’t a thing in the whole wide world that could end his life. 

She picked up another piece of paper from a stack, while eyeing what seemed like a smaller gas chamber on the side of the room. It seemed like Butcher had similar thoughts as he walked up to the chamber, his fingers brushing over its metal surface. The rest of the group was caught up in robbing the place blind, in hopes of any sign or help in defeating Homelander. Vi didn’t care too much about Homelander. Yes, her deal with Butcher did include her helping them out in taking him down, but he also said that they will look more into Soldier Boy and his disappearance in hopes of getting a lead to defeat Homelander. That was why she agreed to this all.

The sound of hissing steam and metal caught the attention of the group immediately. It was Butcher, tearing off the gas chamber’s locked door with his bare hands. Temp V really did its thing with this guy. Light emanated from inside, an orangish hue. The curiosity of Vi was spiked up immediately, her hopes skyrocketing. Butcher lifts the door he just tore off, tossing it to the side, almost impaling Kimiko in the process. The metal lands on the floor with a loud thud. If there are more of those guards, this sure alerted them. 

The steam from inside the chamber slowly flows out. The group’s members leisurely saunter closer to the chamber, heartbeats rising with each step. There was something inside there, that was for sure. 

“I think we found our weapon,” Frenchie silently states. They just had to wait for the smoke to clear, because enough horror movies proved that you should never, under any circumstances, run into a fog or mist absentmindedly. 

Vi’s heartbeat started to rise. She was less scared of facing the Russian guards than facing whatever was behind the steam. Maybe a superterrorist, maybe some weapon, maybe, and hopefully, Ben himself, fully intact. Some seconds later, they could make out a shape in the midst of the steam, a large one at that. If this was a weapon, then they’ll have to get another van to get it to America. 

No, because the smoke was now gone enough that it was obvious that it was a person. The filtered breathing coming from inside gave it away. Yes, they were able to hear somebody’s breathing, that’s how silent they were at that moment. The picture got clearer with each second. Dark hair, long beard, seemed like a man. 

Vi’s eyes slowly widened with each revealed trait. This was why she came here. This was why she agreed to help Butcher. 

“Soldier Boy,” Butcher quietly breathes out, him too coming to the same realization as Vi. Should she walk up to him? Hug him, even? Should she help him out from there? Her mind was overclouded with so many thoughts and racing with emotions. 

A soft creak, followed by the snapping sound of Ben breaking out of his confines, slowly freeing himself from his prison. Butcher cautiously takes a step back, his eyes never leaving the supe. Hughie doesn’t move from his spot. He was further away from the chamber, almost next to Vi. He shoots a look at her, signs of worry in his eyes. What he was worried about, Vi didn’t know, but despite the familiar face of Ben, she wasn’t sure that his mind was the same. It’s been 38 years since Nicaragua. That’s 38 years in the care of Russian scientists. 

Ben grasps the side of the chamber, pushing himself out of it. He moved slowly, as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep, which was probably not too far from the truth. He was panting softly as he looked around the room. Confusion was written all over his face as he took his sweet time studying his surroundings. He turns in the direction of Frenchie, whose gun was aimed at him ever since the chamber opened. Or got ripped open, that might be the better definition. He was definitely not in his right mind, no doubt about that.

Vi had so many things to say to Ben, but right then and there, she wasn’t able to say anything. Not a single word escaped her. She was living in the moment, quietly. It felt as if she was sitting in a cinema, watching a movie, except the movie featured people she knew in real life. She almost added that the situation felt real too, but Ben stepping out of a gas chamber in Russia after being lost for years didn’t sound as good as she thought.

“Ah… It’s okay,” the Frenchman tries to soothe the man. Ben hasn’t spoken since he was set free, and now Vi was doubting whether he could speak at all. Her thought is broken by the feeling of something brushing past her feet. After getting a quick glance at Ben - and his naked body, because everybody was feeling like a nudist today for some reason, first Hughie now him -, she turns her gaze to the ground. Her mouth twists into a confused frown, her brows furrowing. Tiny rocks and debris were moving on their own, all towards one place, or more like person: Ben. 

Ben’s chest started to glow and heat up, the light emanating from it almost blinding everybody in the room. Kimiko makes a run for it, Frenchie’s fate clear in her eyes. She pushes Frenchie out of the way, right before Ben lets out a yell, and a stark beam of orange light hits Kimiko, sending her flying through a series of walls. 

This wasn’t the Ben, that was for sure. Vi knew him all too well, and whatever he just did was new. If the person sent flying was somebody other than Kimiko, they wouldn’t survive that. Ben didn’t do much besides that. He just took off with slow steps. Nobody dared to follow him, or they were all just too stunned to do so. Or, they were just more concerned with Kimiko. 

Vi stood there soundlessly. She didn’t rush over to Kimiko, she didn’t pay much mind to anything at that moment. Ben’s alive. And he just walked out of her life again.

“Oi, Ghostie,” the all too familiar British accent behind her rings out. Vi felt as if she’s just been broken out of a trance. She didn’t want to deal with Butcher right now. Hell, she didn’t want to deal with anyone or anything right now. Her eyes were still fixed on the broken wall Ben left through. She was still unable to move. Meanwhile Butcher was continuously talking in the background, his tone shifting from his casual one to a more furious one with every word. 

“Did you get hit by that fucking beam too, or what now?” He twists his head. He did that every time a word left his mouth. He moved his face like those exaggerated animated characters. 

“What the fuck is your problem, William?!” She lashes back on him. Couldn’t he just leave her to be? “Go and help Kimiko or something instead of harassing me with your nonsense!”

“When were you planning to tell us about Mr. America being able to do this, eh?”

“You think I knew about this?! Whatever that was is new!” She argues back. 

“Oh, and I’m supposed to believe that?” He grins back. That shit-eating grin. Yes, he was supposed to believe that. What Ben just did was not there when she last saw him.

“Believe what you want, I don’t care. I need to be left alone right now, just give me a minute to think, I-”

“Acting like a teen will not get you out of this, we’ll talk about this sooner or later, don’t you worry sweetheart! And I think we should get over this quickly right now.”

“I told you I had nothing to do with what just happened! He wasn’t able to do that back then!”

“Stop talking like a child, we’re playing for countries now!” He shouts right in her face. 

Angered, she just wanted to phase into Butcher’s throat, then materialize then and there, and just rip her hand out of his throat. But The Boys needed him, as much as it hurt to admit it. He didn’t take too good care of his team, but he - mostly - made the right decisions to accomplish their missions. The rest of the group was huddled around Kimiko, with a panicking Frenchie sitting next to her, his moves frantic. Still, for some reason, Butcher was more caught up in this talk. 

She was frustrated. Overwhelmed. She just saw Ben after all those years, Kimiko is seemingly not healing, and Butcher just doesn’t seem to stop his bullshit aimed at her. Her eyes were flickering between Butcher, Kimiko, and everything else in the room. Her muscles were tense, and she was blinking so much faster than an average person. 

With a deafening scream, she ran her fingers through her hair, and shot through the roof of the building. 

Butcher stopped talking, a cracked roof above his head that was intact a few seconds ago. This was yet again another surprise for him. The Ghost wasn’t supposed to fly. There were no records of it, and why would she purposefully hide this ability? His brows knitted in confusion, staring at the open sky through the hole in the ceiling. That was the other thing: she didn’t just fly up, she broke through the roof. 

Vi landed on the roof of their white van with a loud thud. She let out a shout at the impact, feeling it too well. Her heart was racing, and her breathing was heavy. The Boys were still somewhere inside the building, she was supposed to be too, but something happened. Something unexplainable. She gasped for air, just laying on her back on top of the van. She had no idea how she did that. 

I didn’t plan on doing it, my body just… well, you know. But I did it, Hughie’s words echoed in her mind. There was nothing to do about it now. No harm done to anyone, at least. Hopefully. She didn’t feel like moving from that spot, not until the group arrives to take the van, at least. Her side, ribs and bones included, that she landed on was still pulsing with pain, and she needed some time and fresh air to clear her mind. And to form some apology or explanation for The Boys.  

Chapter Text

1983

Vi’s boots clicked as she walked through the halls of the Vought Tower. She was late to what Ben called “training”, but did she care? Let the others have fun, she thought. Technically speaking, she couldn’t really fight without causing serious injury. Yes, she would’ve loved to phase into Crimson Countess’ face, but what good would it do for the team? Lots of good, but some serious drawbacks from Vought. 

Her powers weren’t exactly made for fighting. She was perfect when it came to break-ins, and she could go against basically anyone in close combat, but it wasn’t the most practical in trainings such as the one going on somewhere below her, on a lower level. Why Ben even came up with the idea of hosting a training was a mystery. 

Her stride was broken by a Vought worker approaching her.

“Miss, somebody’s on the phone looking for you,” she states, trying to match Vi’s speed. 

“Lead the way, uh…” Vi was trying to look for any indication on what the woman’s name might have been.

“Madelyn,” she answers. 

“Lead the way then, Madelyn,” Vi speaks, following the young woman now in front of her. She likely wasn’t even 20, but whatever she sees best, Vi thought.

Madelyn led her into a room filled with even more people working for Vought, cables, cords and computers in front of all of them. Vi knew that she wouldn’t survive a week in a job like that. She comes to a halt behind another woman sitting behind a computer, Madelyn clearing her throat to make her presence known. The other woman turns around, and immediately notices the Ghost by her side. 

“It’s a man looking for you,” the unknown Vought agent speaks, holding the phone forward to Vi. She twists her fingers around it, her other hand twisting the phone’s cable around her index finger.

For the first few moments, there was just incoherent noise on the other side, and Vi was starting to get worried that this might have been a call for help. Then, a man spoke.

“Miss Barone! Sorry for the disturbance, but we’re getting ready to celebrate soon! I just wanted you to invite you, that’s all! My little Joe just got his dream job! He’s CIA now!” THe man speaks. 

“Kessler? Shit man, it’s been so long since we talked, must’ve been a year, no?” Vi chuckles. 

Dean Kessler. The same one-legged man from the 1943 surprise attack. He still kept contact with Vi. She was there at his wedding, and got to meet his son later on. That son was already in his twenties, and seemingly got his dream job at the CIA. She was so much older than him, but almost looked younger than Joe. It scared her in a way. She would sometimes babysit Joe when he was younger. She’d tell stories of the war, her life as a supe, the work she sometimes did with CIA agents, and Joe was always fascinated by it somehow. He was sure of his career even back then: he wanted to be a CIA agent too. And here he was, over fifteen years later, actually an agent. 

“When is it? I’ll see if I can drop by. I’ll do it even if Vought disapproves, don’t worry,” Vi says with a smile.

“Tomorrow, 2 PM. We’re going to have grill, alcohol, all the good stuff,” Dean Kessler replied. 

“Noted! I have to go now, but it was nice hearing from you! Tell Joe that I’m fucking proud of him!” Vi chuckles before hanging up, catching a glimpse of Joe’s laugh in the background right before she did so. 

She was now half an hour late to the meeting Ben called, but did she care? She still didn’t. It was still not fit for her, and she still didn’t want to be there at all. It’s been two years since she got put into Payback, but she still didn’t adjust to it too well. The members were just idiots with superpowers, who never planned on helping anyone. They were here just for the fun of it. Vi genuinely wanted to help. That’s what she did even before getting the V. She was a nurse, later on a field nurse. There, she was able to help people. Now, Vought held her back whenever they could. Still, she left the building whenever she pleased. 

As she got closer to the room where the meeting - or training as Ben called it - was held, the noises from inside got louder and more concerning. Vi’s brows furrowed, her steps quickening. It didn’t sound like the others were cheering for the ones in the ring. 

She burst through, or more like phased through it, and was met with a brutal sight. Inside the ring stood Ben and Black Noir, the latter getting beaten to almost pulp, laying on the ground. Ben was towering over him, one of his knees on the ground as he landed his punches. She didn’t know nor care what the reason for it was, she rushed up there. With a swift move, she swung her feet, her boots smashing into Ben’s nose and face. 

Ben jerks his head back, shocked by the unexpected blunt force that just hit him. He receives another kick, this time in his stomach, and even if hurt less, it was enough to make him roll off of Black Noir. Ben straightened up, placing his palm on one of his knees and pushing himself up. He felt the same person behind him, and this time, he was not letting it slide. He swings his fist, and turns, leaning into the punch with his whole body. To his surprise, it wasn’t anybody he expected, but it was too late, he couldn’t stop the punch. 

She stood still, arms crossed over her chest. Ben’s punch went right through her. She could see as Ben’s eyes widened at the realization. Tiny splatters of blood covered his face, and she felt like she was having a stare-off with the devil. 

Ben’s face somewhat softened as he realized. He wouldn’t have tried to hit if he knew it was her.

“I… sorry,” he manages to breathe out. He didn’t care if the other Payback members heard it or not. 

“Don’t apologize to me, say it to him,” she sternly says, motioning over to Black Noir. He was still laying on the ground, his blood soaking through his mask as he shuddered there. Vi was disappointed that the others didn’t do anything about it, but not surprised. 

There wasn’t much left after the fight between Ben and Noir. Everybody just left. Vi was the first to do so. She just stormed out without a word right after stopping Ben and asking him to apologize. It was beyond Ben to ever do something like this over something so minor to one of his teammates. There had to be something behind his behavior, and Vi was determined to find out what it was.

Chapter Text

Silence. That was the best way to describe the van ride until the airport. They didn’t question Vi’s sudden takeoff, at least not yet. She was sitting in the van with them, she was there by the time The Boys arrived. They were quick to hop into the van, saying that Kimiko showed no signs of her healing abilities. So after she passed out, that was when silence struck. They were talking to her while she was awake, but there wasn’t much to be done. They decided that it was best if they admitted her to a hospital back in America.

“Soldier Boy was always a hard bastard, but not like that,” Butcher spoke not long after Kimiko passed out. He was behind the steering wheel for some reason. “They must have done something to him. What do you think?”

Butcher’s eyes were fixed on the rear-view mirror inside the car. Through that, he could see Vi’s hateful glare at the question. She was staring into the rear-view mirror, just like Butcher. They were able to look into each other’s eyes through it, and Vi just wanted him to watch the road instead of that mirror, because as much as she was praying for the Brit's downfall, he wasn’t the only one in the car. 

“So now you listen to me? That's what I wanted to tell you inside the lab, but you just had to keep your bullshit going, didn’t you?”

“Oh, you mean before you broke through the fucking roof?” He grins back. Somebody get this man a bad plastic surgery so that he won’t smile like this all the time.

What she did back there was unintentional. It was seemingly triggered by how overwhelmed she was. She still is, but that’s besides the point. 

“That was just after you shot yourself up with V,” she adds. Somebody had to remind Butcher that Vi wasn’t the only one with an ace up her sleeve in that lab. Except for her, that ace was a mystery card. 

Butcher playfully scoffed at that, but no words. He either let it slide or he grew a brain and realized that arguing about these was pointless right now. The first option was more likely. 

Vi was conflicted. Ben didn’t seem to recognize her, or if he did, he didn’t try to make it obvious. He just woke up from who knows how many years of sleeping. He wasn't in his right mind. He didn’t forget me. If Ben was to meet her and not recognize her, he couldn’t even say that she got too old for him to recognize her, because due to her non-aging ability, she still looked like she did in 1943. For the first time, she sensed a loss of connection. But at least Ben is now free to roam, and her chances of finding him were higher than before. 

Nina’s private jet was right where they left it. Vi, Frenchie and MM carried Kimiko to the plane, placing her into one of the leather cushioned couches. Frenchie sat down next to her, promising to keep an eye on the wounded woman. Vi plopped down on the single seat facing another seat with a sigh, closing her eyes in hopes of some well-deserved rest. 18 hours will surely be enough. In the meantime, she will have enough time to muster up something to say to Ben if she sees him again. Because even if he got away, now it was confirmed that he was alive.

She just sat there, smiling to herself at these thoughts, when Hughie sat down on the white leather seat, sitting face to face with her. At first, he just fiddled with his fingers in silence, then after seemingly reconsidering every thought he ever had, he spoke.

“I know Butcher already mentioned this, but uh, you can fly?” He meekly asks.
“I didn’t exactly fly. I just shot up, then fell down. Think of it as a jump. The only difference is that I jumped pretty fucking high pretty fucking quickly,” she explains, hoping that it was easily understandable.

Hughie hums in understanding, slowly tilting his head back and forth, the movement barely noticeable, but it was there. 

"And this uh, until now... did you know you had it?" He asks, his eyebrows knitted together.

"No way. I was surprised, even scared. I'm still trying to process it," Vi smiles faintly. She has yet to experience and get into this ability, because once she understands it and learns to use it, it can still be very useful. Vi knew the first thing she should do is figure out how to trigger it. After that, it should be combined with her ability to change density. That way there would be no trace of broken roofs. 

She probably won't get an answer as to how this is possible, but if Homelander has at least five different abilities, it's not impossible for her to abound either. 

"Funny, you were the one who taught me about learning our abilities first. But, I understand, of course, you couldn't have known about it, and that's perfectly fine, that's not why I said it," Hughie begins, putting together every possible word that could come to mind at that moment, stuttering.

On some level, Vi found it amusing. Hughie was trying so hard to speak without accidentally offending anyone. Funny, Ben was aiming for the exact opposite. Vi noticed that Hughie didn't just talk to her like that, but to the vast majority of people. Of course, when a supe is sitting across from him, he stresses more about what he says, knowing that Vi can tear his heart out of its place at any time.

"You know, I have a question. I'd rather not ask Butcher right now," Hughie says after listening to Vi’s silence. He could see that she was smiling in the corner of her mouth.

"I already said something similar in the lab, but now it's really bothering me, and I think you would be the best to answer it. Seeing as Kimiko is in a coma."

"Just ask. Either I know the answer or I don't," Vi sighs as she shifts in her seat.

Hughie clears his throat and speaks.

"In the lab, I killed someone with my own hand. I mean, literally, because my hand went through his body. And you know, I noticed you doing the same thing. You don't... It doesn't bother you? That you literally have other people's blood on your hands dry?" He asks quietly.

Vi thinks it over in silence. It did bother her, she thought about it many times. The first few times it happened, she spent hours rubbing her hands under the running water because even though there was no visible sign of blood, Vi felt like it was still there on her hand. Now she just wiped her hands on her clothes.

“I remember so many faces. And their blood on my hands. They’re here. They’re here in my mind, all the time. They haunt me. So many things do. I’m supposed to be the one haunting them, but things don’t always turn out as they are supposed to, or how we would like them to,” she finally professed. She wasn’t a woman of words, at least she never admitted it to herself. Ben once told her she was, though. 

Hughie hummed again in agreement. Vi couldn't quite decide if the boy understood what she had said before. She hoped so. If she herself won't learn from her mistakes and guilt, at least give Hughie a little help. She didn't want to say anything else, and thankfully Hughie didn't ask any more questions. So Vi could almost be sure that the boy did understand what she said. 

Vi had already woven the plans in her head, one after the other. B plans, even C plans, all for different cases. Ben was no longer locked away in an unknown Russian lab, and the possibilities were growing. She'll probably have to go back to Russia, but at least she won't be alone because Ben could be the secret weapon against Homelander that Butcher has been looking for. Therefore, Butcher will have to send somebody back to Russia to get Ben. But first, Kimiko had to be admitted to a hospital, and they had to rethink their plans and chances.

“Vivienne,” she randomly blurts out. Hughie shoots her a confused glare almost immediately. 

“What?” He asks, not so sure what she meant. 

“You asked me what my name was. Not right now, though. It’s Vivienne.”

Chapter Text

1983

The door to Vi’s room slowly creaks open. She never bothered to fix it herself, nor did ever ask anybody to do it for her. She liked it that way, it was her personal alarm. She didn’t worry about herself making a sound with it, she just phased through that door. If it creaks, it’s somebody else. 

She laid on her bed, eyes fixed on her ceiling. On her desk, because she had one, and despite being a supe, there was always some kind of mess on it. Sometimes charcoal, sometimes paint. The type of paint that could not be scrubbed off.

Whoever opened her door did not move from the doorway, or at least didn’t take audible steps. Vi continued to lay on her bed, still on her back, watching the ceiling. She was thinking up until somebody opened her door. When she heard the noise, she snapped out of it, and pricked up her ears. 

“Hi,” a familiar voice could be heard. A faint smile crept its way onto Vi’s face as the sound hit her ears. She’d recognize it anywhere, anytime. 

“You’re just going to stand there?” She finally asks, inviting Ben inside. He just exhaled with a barely noticeable smirk, one that Vi couldn’t see. She was still staring at the ceiling, but at least acknowledged his presence. 

Ben quietly closes the door behind him. With a grunt, Vi pushes herself up into a sitting position in the middle of her bed. Instead of going closer, Ben leaned his upper arm against the side of the doorway. He was afraid that if he sat down next to Vi, they wouldn't go anywhere, because he would simply stick around and talk to her for hours, or listen to what she had to say. He already had plans.

Vi scanned Ben's eyes, waiting for any sign. Yes, she was still pretty pissed off about the Noir incident a few hours prior, but Ben probably didn't just appear in the room to stand there ominously.

The man clears his throat, and finally gets down to what he has to say.

"We're going or what?"

Vi had nothing planned for the day. Not with Vought, not with Ben. In principle, she didn’t have to go anywhere that day. Joe's party wasn't until three tomorrow, and besides that, she didn't know of any events where she would have to appear.

"Did I miss something?" She asks, smiling a little, shaking her head barely visible to the side.

"It's kind of an apology on my part. Not just for today, but the way I am now behaviorally. I honestly have no idea what's wrong with me," Ben explains. 

"I don't think Vought is just going to let you randomly fling around the streets of New York like that," Vi retorts.

"But you could get me out of here. Through the wall. I wouldn't have gone alone anyway," Ben smirks.

Vi really could have taken him out without being noticed, through one of the walls. She just practiced it with him a few years ago. Vi brought up the idea, but was afraid that if she tried to take a living creature with her, that creature would die in her arms. Without hesitation, Ben accepted the role of experimental rat. The first time Vi tried it, she forced Ben into the wall and his head took a damn big thump. He was convinced that if Vi tried it well, she could carry not only herself, but also other living beings through walls. He got it right for the umpteenth try. But hey, he was right after all, no? After that, Vi could take anything with herself. She didn't know then that by the time Ben came back from the dead, this ability would be gone.

"And if people recognize you on the street?" Vi asked him. She asked almost as a formality, because she was ready to go. Ben thinks deeply, brooding to himself.

"Well, I have a baseball cap," he finally smiles. Vi chuckles to herself, looking down. For some reason, she found it so funny that Ben's entire disguise would be a leather jacket and a baseball cap. He is the most famous man in America, and this is how he solves the disguise. And the worst part is, that it would, in fact, work."Come on, you'd definitely come with me anyway."

Vi didn't need any more, she jumped with joy to the wardrobe in the corner of the room. She dug out a long, black leather jacket from the depths of the wardrobe, followed by a hat that could be pulled over her head. She didn't want Ben to wait standing at the door - smiling, may I add -, so she just picked up her black boots from the side of the wardrobe and ran out the room with the boots in her hands, and only socks on. She’ll have time to put on the boots while in the elevator anyway.

"It's getting dark, come on," she runs past Ben, grabbing his wrist as she speeds past him, pulling him down the hall.

Ben just let her drag him along. They walked side by side in the corridor, almost at a slower running pace. 

"So what are we doing?" Vi finally asks about it. She just ran off with him, unknowingly.

"I thought you wouldn't even ask," Ben sighs playfully. "To the city. We can't go anywhere these days, I thought it would be good for both of us."

"That's a nice idea of ​​yours. I like that baseball cap winter style of yours. It's original," Vi says, the last part so sarcastic that Ben noticed it right away.

"Thanks," he says, then looks at Vi's outfit. He was prepared to make a similar comment to her, but despite the short time, Vi still somehow managed to throw together a completely acceptable, almost perfect winter outfit. She also pulled out two black gloves from her jacket’s pocket, and right before she put the jacket on, she pulled out a circular scarf from the sleeve of the jacket like a circus act. Okay, I’ll let it slide for her.

Inside the elevator, Vi crouched down, tying the laces of her boots. 

“You got anything specific in mind?” She asked, eyes fixated on the laces.

“Not exactly. But I’ve heard they’ve got some new movies at the mall’s cinema,” he knowingly replies. Vi was fascinated with all sorts of movies, and Ben knew that so well. 

Despite it being winter, there wasn’t any snow, not yet at least. The streets were filled with people, and Vi was scared to even imagine how many more there would be during the Christmas rush. Shit, that was almost around the corner too. Her and Ben were walking side by side, and despite being two of the most famous supes, nobody recognized them. The effect of a supersuit. 

“So uh,” Ben starts, “you’re still mad at me for what I did to Noir?”

“Obviously. And I will be,” Vi retorts. She receives an understanding hum from Ben as a response. “I mean, you’ve always been an asshole, but lately, you’ve been getting out of hand.”

“I know, and I have no idea what’s gotten into me. I’m working on fixing it,” he reassures her. Vi falls deep into thought for a few moments. 

“We’ll figure out what’s going on, don’t ya worry,” she shoots Ben a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand gently. Did it ease both their worries? Not so much, because it was still there, the solution was still unknown to them.

Vi already had some theories, but decided to keep them to herself before collecting any evidence. She knew that she’ll have to investigate alone, because Vought was more likely to work against her than with her, and Payback would just bring more trouble onto her. Out of that group, Ben was the only trustworthy. The others were just idiots whose superpower was being stupid. But live in the moment, she thought to herself, turning her focus back to the present. She’ll have enough time to come up with something once she’s back at the Vought Tower, rotting away. 

The tower was in the middle of New York, everything was just a few minutes away from them. Took them about ten minutes to get to the mall. Vi was following Ben almost mindlessly, just observing her surroundings, taking in the sights. Let Ben lead the way, she thought. And he did, gently holding her hand as he passed by the crowds, sometimes glancing her way to make sure that she was still there, holding her hand was not enough for him to be sure, it never was. But she was there every time, sometimes maybe a step behind as she tried to keep up with Ben’s big steps. 

The two step onto the escalator with a smile. They’ve been spending too much time around Vought lately, trapped in that tower, with Ben trying to handle the nonexistent responsibilities of being named the leader of Payback. Then there was the fact that to the public, he was also the boyfriend of Crimson Countess, solely for the purpose of enlarging their popularity. When the Vought executives first threw the idea at Ben, he tried to suggest that if he’s going to be paired with someone, at least let that someone be Vi. But does Vought ever care about their heroes? Ehh… 

After reaching the second floor of the mall, the duo strided their way to where the cinema was. Out on the walls were posters of all the movies they were playing that day. Vi would’ve loved to take one of those posters home and put it up on her own wall. It was sadly Vought property, and she never got ahold of any posters. She will one day, she was sure of it. Her eyes browsed the cinema’s program list, and joyfully noticed that they weren’t too late. Meanwhile, Ben scanned the posters with his eyes, studying them all in detail. 

“Hey,” he randomly exclaims to himself, maybe to Vi, “I know this guy!”

Vi turns her head over to Ben, straightening up to walk over to him. She came to a halt right next to him, looking at the same poster. 

“Yeah, we watched some movies with him in them.”

“Al Pacino…” Ben reads out quietly, savoring the name, knowing that he heard it somewhere. “The Godfather, no? Oh, I loved that one,” he chuckles. 

Vi couldn’t really help but smile at this. Ben rarely said this about movies, they just didn’t appeal too much to him. Still, he would occasionally sit down with Vi to watch one. They would then try to talk about the movie, with Ben’s opinion being “it was good,” while Vi almost recited a whole essay on it. Cinematography, acting, directing, script, she had something to say about everything. Ben would make comments throughout the movie, criticizing the actions of each character, loudly exclaiming “why’d he do that?”, or just plainly groaning when he didn’t like what a character did. He also laughed when characters died. Whatever he finds funny with his twisted humor, Vi thought. She sat through them in mostly silence, trying to focus, but that focus was often broken by Ben. They both died at animal deaths in movies, though. 

“Do they still play it today? I’d love to watch this,” Ben happily says. 

“Let me just check,” Vi says, walking back to the program list.

“Didn’t you just do it?” Ben’s brows furrow, following Vi. 

“You think I remember?” She responds immediately. “The V didn’t give me superhuman memory, that’s for sure…”

Her eyes browse through the letters and dates, finally landing on the current date. 

“Let’s see,” she begins. “They’ve still got Terms of Endearment, Sleepaway Camp, A Christmas Story, and there it is, Scarface. Oh, would you look at that, they still play Return of the Jedi. When was that released, in May, no?”

It took a few seconds for Ben to realize that the question was aimed at him. 

“Oh, uh, I think yeah. But do they still play the Al Pacino one?”

“Straight to the point, I see,” Vi smiles. “But yeah, it’ll start in twenty minutes. I thought it was around 7 PM, but I forgot it’s winter. C’mon, we’ll wait. Scarface it is.”

Chapter Text

Vi sat in her apartment room, legs propped up on the coffee table right in front of her couch. Her mind was in many places, but was ultimately waiting for one thing: a call from William Butcher. There was no way he’d let Soldier Boy roam free, and there was no way he could force him to stop. Back in Russia, Butcher promised Vi that he’d call her once they have a plan, right after him and MM had an argument about Billy killing off Gunpowder. When Vi first heard it, she was shocked to hear the news. She wasn’t too fond of Gunpowder, but he was the second closest person to Ben back in his Payback era. Vi was somewhat close to him too, closer than to most members of the group. That’s how the hamster situation happened, actually. 

The TV was on, a news channel specifically, while Vi stood up to search for a DVD. She might keep up with the modern ages and modern technology, but there was something about being able to hold it physically. Two rows of her bookshelf weren't even made up of books. VHS cassettes were stored in a separate box, she kept them all. Those cassettes have seen both her home and the Vought Tower, that’s how old they were. They held memories. Copies of The Godfather, Rambo, Poltergeist, Blade Runner, and Scarface were all present, and just a few amongst the massive collection. 

The news channel was still going in the background, and Vi didn’t usually pay much mind to it, this time was no different. Until…

“An explosion just rocked Midtown Manhattan. Early reports indicate 19 are dead,” sounded the man on the TV. Vi, who was searching in the box next to the TV, leans backwards to get a small view at the screen. Her eyes widened at the camera footage cut into the news. The same beam of light that got Kimiko into a hospital. 

“The NYPD and Bureau of Superhuman Affairs…” continued the man, but it fell on no ears. The house was empty, with a jacket missing. 

Vi burst into the one-room office inside the Flatiron Building. Two people inside, as expected. 

“I said I’d call you,” sounded the british accent. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t,” Vi retorts immediately. “I reckon you haven’t seen the news yet.”

“What news?” Hughie worriedly cuts in. 

Vi searches for the TV remote connected to the office’s TV. Once she dug it out from under a stack of papers, she switched the TV on, searching for any news channel that might still broadcast that specific news. It wasn’t a petty crime, it was easy to find a channel. The same security camera footage she saw some minutes ago. This time, Butcher and Hughie both had their eyes on the TV. For the first time, Vi felt like Butcher was taking her seriously. No remarks, no words, he just intently watched. A different man recited the same news. Explosion, midtown Manhattan, 19 deaths. 

“This might just be our man,” Butcher exhales as he stands up from the desk where he sat. He grabbed the long, black coat that hung on his chair. 

“What are we uh, going to do exactly?” Hughie asks meekly, as if he was unsure in Butcher and Vi’s decision. 

“We, my boy, are going to the site. We can’t let Soldier Boy roam free in the middle of Manhattan, not like this,” Butcher says as he shakes himself into his jacket.

This is what Vi had been waiting for all this time. Her mind was still empty in terms of what to say to Ben, but improvisation is always an option, no? 

The trio decided to walk all the way there, it was maybe twenty minutes away from them. Ben was almost twenty minutes away. Or at least a sign of Ben, that is. Vi walked quicker than the others, often glancing back to see them a few steps behind her through her black shaded sunglasses. She tried to hurry them, and she felt like an excited kid trying to lead her ignorant parents somewhere. The thing is, the parents don’t really care, not as much as she does. 

“But how did he get out of Russia?” Hughie asks, breaking the silence between them, because they were the only silent ones, their surroundings didn’t even try. “I mean, did he have any money on him? Or did he just walk onto the plane naked, without a ticket and no security checks?”

Okay, Hughie had a point. The fact that Ben was somehow here in America without any help did raise questions.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if somebody recognized him as Soldier Boy. They’d let him on that plane for free, that’s for sure,” Butcher comments.

“He looked like a homeless caveman, even on the security camera footage. I doubt anybody would recognize him, especially after Vought told the world that he died in some nuclear explosion or meltdown back in 1984,” Vi asserts. She loved Ben, but knew that something had to be done about that beard immediately. Get it styled or something, please.  

“He definitely killed somebody then,” Hughie brings it up, right before his phone starts ringing.

“Yeah,” Butcher and Vi say in unison. Sorry, Ben.  

The crowd was already at the sight, along with some cops. Butcher peeked over the mass of people, trying to look for any signs. Sirens were wailing in the background, and the chatter was almost deafening combined with the other sounds of the city.

“If they ask, you’re an intern working for me,” he asserts before diving head straight into the crowd. Vi wasn’t a fan of the idea of working under Butcher, but if this was the way to find Ben, then she might have to sacrifice her wants. 

“So, what’d your girl say?” Vi asks, the question aimed at Hughie who just got off the phone with Starlight. 

“Homelander saw the news too. The crime analytics at Vought are apparently trying to find him,” he recounts. If Homelander is after Soldier Boy too, then it’s going to be serious. The question is, does he know that this “super-terrorist” is, in fact, Soldier Boy?

“We’re faster than them,” she pats the boy’s shoulder before blending in with the crowd.

Arriving at the yellow cord, Butcher held up his fake ID to the police officer standing there. He let all three through without question. 

“Fucking hell,” Butcher quietly exclaims at the sight of the building. Yes, this was definitely the place, and the culprit behind the destruction was definitely Ben. He wasn’t there though. Rubble and glass shards covered everything, a thick layer of black ash sitting on top of it all.

“Hughie?” a woman’s voice enters the conversation as she heads closer to them. 

“Ivy,” Hughie whispers to himself. Fuck, they know each other. “Hey, uh… Morning, morning. Is Vicky here?” 

Butcher continued to walk past the Ivy woman and Hughie. Vi decides that it's best if she just follows him, and leaves Hughie to settle things with his colleague, or who she assumed was his colleague. 

The embers around the scene were still crackling, and the Geiger counter in Butcher’s hand was clicking rapidly. So he’s radioactive now. Butcher stands up from his crouching position with a grunt, a serious look on his face. He nods lightly, looking at Hughie first, then Vi. But Hughie’s eyes were set on something in the distance. Both Vi and Butcher turn their heads in the direction, only to spot MM near the crowd.

“Oi,” Butcher calls out to him.

“You still think he’s the Red’s problem?” MM cuts him off, clearly unhappy with the situation. His index finger was pointing right at the remains of the building.

“All right, easy mate.”

“Fuck you,” MM replies. He was clearly not having it, especially not with Butcher. Hell, who would with Butcher? “I’ll find him myself.”

“And what are you gonna do when you find him, eh?” Butcher retorts as MM turns away, ready to leave the scene. He stops in his tracks when Butcher finishes his sentence.”He’s well out of your league, son.”

MM swiftly turns around, staring into Butcher’s soul. Please God don’t give this guy laser eyes. 

“You need help,” Butcher continues, “You need us.” MM refused to say anything, he just continued to stare.  

“Soldier Boy is strong. Perhaps stronger than you think. And pretty fucking invincible,” Vi adds. “We are also working on finding him.”

“You heard Ghostie,” Butcher nods his head towards Vi standing next to him. “Oh, we can talk about what a cunt I am another time. But right now, let’s just focus on the job at hand. Let us help you with Soldier Boy. I owe you that much, and then you don’t got to see me no more.”

MM let out a frustrated sigh, but stayed quiet. It would’ve been stupid for him to go up against Soldier Boy all alone, he knew that too. But revenge was just a hand’s reach away from him. He had to reconsider all his options. He looked over to Hughie, waiting for anything, or just for him to give his view or opinion on the matter, but to his dismay, Hughie had to agree with Butcher and Vi. She knew Soldier Boy better than their whole team combined. If anybody, she knew his limits. But apparently, there weren’t any.

He finally gives in, a firm nod signaling his choice. 

“Knowing you, you already got a lead?” Butcher knowingly smirks at his friend.

“Course I fucking do. Look at where we are.”

The group collectively looks around.

“The Legend,” Butcher breathes out. “Could that be, Ghostie? Want to bet Soldier Boy paid him a visit?”

“So now my thoughts matter? I know, leave this for later. I think yeah, he could head there. I’d see why. That guy has something on every supe under Vought, especially older members like me and the rest of Payback. I think The Legend has his suit and shield, too,” Vi replies. Last time she had something to say about Ben, she ended up shooting through a roof out of frustration. But hey, at least now they’re evolving and Butcher actually listens to her.

Chapter Text

1983

Secrecy was key. That’s why Vi made sure that nobody, not even Ben gets caught up in her little private investigation. 

She’s been after every Payback member as discreetly as possible, because if only one of them caught wind of her plans, they would’ve already been at the feet of Vought. Vi was looking for anything and everything, just a tiny clue on what might be going on in the background. To her dismay, there was no solid evidence of anybody trying to cross Ben. So, she had to approach the situation from a different angle: Vought workers outside of Payback. 

The problem was that she wasn’t allowed on those levels of the building. She might be called Ghost, but she wasn’t as invisible as one. And who knows what would happen to her if somebody saw her there, and there was no way she’d let them remove her from the team, from Ben. As much as she hated to admit it, somebody had to be reeled into her private investigation. 

“Madelyn,” she happily exclaims, sauntering over to the woman in the hallway. “How nice to see you here!”

“Good morning,” Madelyn greets her meekly. Unlike Vi, she was allowed on all levels of the building. 

“You know, I was thinking we could talk in private, if you wouldn’t mind,” Vi continues. Madelyn’s eyes slightly widen, unsure about her reply. After her silence, Vi speaks again. “It’s important,” she whispers, leaning a tad bit closer to her. Madelyn, still a bit stressed, nods in agreement. 

Vi makes her way inside a tiny storage room, almost squeezed inside with Madelyn. After a quick glance around the room in search of cameras, she begins. 

“Something’s going on. At first I thought it was somebody in Payback, maybe it is, but there was no solid lead. So, I figured that it wouldn’t hurt to look around on the higher levels. But I’m not allowed there, at least not alone, not without a reason. You are, though.”

“What exactly are you looking for? I’m not so sure about this.”

“Anything on Soldier Boy lately. Something is going on with him, and if my theory is correct, Vought is behind it. Don’t ask why, I just feel it. You’ve gotta trust me on this one. I want you to sniff around the higher-ups, while I stay around Payback and look around there. Oh, and don’t forget that if anybody else gets a wind of this, I’m going to phase right through you. Deal?”

Madelyn keeps quiet for a few seconds, processing all the sudden information just dumped on her. What Vi just asked her could lead her to possibly lose her job. But that only happens if she isn’t stealthy and tricky enough. This was her chance to go higher. At this point, Vi did not know that this is the same Madelyn Stillwell who will later on become Vought’s Vice President of Hero Management, and who will breastfeed Homelander. 

2022

MM sternly knocks at the apartment’s door. It surprised Vi that The Legend didn’t have his own big mansion, because money was definitely not a problem. Still, he was living in a corner apartment, the stuff he hoarded up from various supes probably rotting away in a box inside a closet. 

“Just leave it,” The Legend’s muffled voice sounds from the other side of the door. 

“Hey, uh,” Hughie whispers to Vi, “am I like… allowed around here? I mean, Soldier Boy knows this guy, you do too, is he like famous or something?”

“For fuck’s sake Hughie, is meeting a celebrity really the worst you’ve been through? You’re working with Butcher. Trust me, this is better than being covered in blood and guts,” Vi replies confidently. Even if The Legend tried to do anything against them, he wouldn’t stand much of a chance. She could have killed him long ago, or in better words, should've.

“It’s quite a nickname, though.”

“It’s not a nickname, it’s a status, a level.”

“Leave the goddamn clams casino at the door,” The Legend shouts after MM knocks yet again. 

“This ain’t Grubhub motherfucker, open up,” MM replies, clearly done with everyone and everything, his patience on a very, very thin line. With blue shaded sunglasses and a cigar between his lips, The Legend finally tears the door open. He’s immediately taken aback by the lineup at his door. 

“Marvin,” he exclaims, followed by a laugh, “Hey!”

The others just watch as The Legend pulls MM into a friendly hug. Both Butcher and Vi were right at his doorstep, but somehow he only reacted to MM. He only takes notice of the two after letting MM go from the hug, his joyful expression immediately morphing into something a lot less joyful. 

“I see you still got this piece of dogshit stuck to your boot,” he comments, his index finger pointing at the brit. He has so much confidence for such a short man. 

“Oh, go do one, you withered old cunt,” Butcher immediately retorts. The Legend just blows a cloud of smoke right into his face as a response before MM speaks. 

“This is Hughie,” he says, gesturing lightly towards the aforementioned boy. “And I suppose you and the Ghost know each other.”

Vi shoots him a forced smile that fades just as quickly. The Legend shares a similar reaction. Vi wasn’t too fond of this guy, but back in the 80s, the two kept in contact, and when The Legend had something to say to Vi, it was usually just a movie role offer. Vi turned down so many of these, unlike Ben. He liked the spotlight and the love he got from people. He was the reason why Vi accepted that role in some Payback movie all those years ago, because without Ben begging her to take it, she would have been played by Sigourney Weaver, who Ben despised for some reason. Vi always knew that if it's a call from The Legend, it's some movie. She loved watching movies, but being in one of them would've ruined it, or so she thought. 

“I guess you already have an idea of why we’re here,” Vi speaks, an all-knowing grin on her face. Shit, just like Butcher. 

“Legend, we need to talk,” MM rejoins the conversation.

“Not him,” the other man gestures towards Butcher. And for the first time, Vi gained an ounce of respect towards The Legend. 

“He’ll behave,” MM adds. “You got my word. This is important, and you owe me.”

The Legend looks around the bunch lined up at his door, reconsidering it all. With a quiet grumble, he heads back inside, the door left open behind him. The others took it as a sign to follow him inside. Before entering, MM shot a look that clearly said “Behave” to Butcher, who just rolled his eyes in response.

The inside looked just as Vi imagined it. Original posters, photographs and other trophies from the past. Hughie took his time observing them all, pointing out every celebrity. The Legend had something to say about all of Hughie’s exclamations, as vile and dirty as some were. She was surprised that he didn’t have any dirt on her. She did try to keep everything a secret from him, even her real name up until some point, fearing that she would be mentioned somewhere. It’s not that she participated in whatever activities The Legend did at night, but better be safe than sorry.

Hughie obviously had enough of The Legend’s stories about who was balls deep in who, and with a look on his face that clearly said “What the fuck”, he sat down on the couch next to the man, who was snorting up a handful of cocaine right then. This wasn’t why Vi came here, she couldn’t care less about this man’s sexual escapades. 

“He was here, wasn’t he,” MM finally brings it up. The Legend just turns towards Hughie with a hum, handing him the tiny golden platter with the white powder on it. He just rubs it off, saying he was already full of it. Lie. 

“Ah, all right. See, now Vought is all demo points and audience testings, thanks those backstabbing fucks Edgar and Stillwell. And yes, I know she’s dead. Fuck her, anyway!” He happily exclaims. 

They were getting nowhere with this man, it was so obvious. Vi was surprised that Stillwell rose so high in Vought’s ranks despite all she’s done. Hughie looks over his shoulder to Vi standing behind him, a confused look on his face, waiting for some explanation. 

“The Legend’s the Vice President of Hero Management over at Vought. Or at least was, before Madelyn came in,” she quietly explains to him. He just nods in understanding.

“He helps us out from time to time,” MM continues. The Legend just shot a quick glance at Hughie before speaking.

“He really doesn’t know who I am?” He sounded offended. Let him be offended. “See, when I was in charge,” he continued, his words aimed at Hughie, “you go with your gut. That’s when heroes were heroes,” he points at Vi in the back, “and not these stage-managed silicone dolls. I’ve never even seen Homelander sweat, let alone butter churn half the cast of Falcon Crest at the Beverly Hills hotel, which I did. Two words: Shannon Tweed.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Vi cuts in before The Legend could traumatize Hughie further. “He came to see you, didn’t he?”

“Dear, am I supposed to know who ‘he’ is?” He scoffed. 

“You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

“Soldier Boy came to see you,” MM intervened before the situation could escalate. “We need to know what he said.”

“What are you, crazy? Marvin, he’s a fucking doornail,” The Legend says in disbelief. 

“So who’s that coke for?” MM says as he gestures towards another tiny golden platter on the cupboard next to the couch, with a fair amount of coke still on it along with a tiny spoon. With theatrical hand gestures, The Legend begins his explanation.

“I’m writing my memoir,” he begins. Yeah, and nobody’s going to read it. “It’s going to be really dynamite. So, I’m you know, I’m burning the candle at both ends. I swear.”

“You know,” Vi cuts in, her hand phasing through The Legend’s head, but not materializing, at least not yet, “nobody’s going to read that memoir if I’m not going to let you finish it. So, I say enough bullshit. What did he say, and where is he? I’ll know if you lie, and you know, if I was to materialize my hand that’s still in your head, you’d meet a not so nice end.”

The Legend holds his words back for a second, waiting for Vi to pull her hand back. MM shot her a wide-eyed glare saying “Don’t you dare”.

“I swear on my kids’ lives!” The Legend continues with a chuckle. 

“You hate your fucking kids,” Butcher finally speaks, probably for the first time ever since they entered the room. 

“So would you if you met them,” the elderly man says, placing his cigar between his lips. Vi was ready to materialize, but there was still nothing on where Ben might be.

“So, if I ran those prints on that mirror, who would I come up with?” MM speaks, trying to squeeze out any possible information. Everybody in that room knew that The Legend was lying right to their faces. The Legend turns his head over his shoulder, looking Vi straight in the eye. 

“Don’t be shy, say it. Otherwise you’ll end up someplace much, much worse than a nursing home,” she smiles down at him, her ears open for any information regarding Ben and his whereabouts. 

“Don’t worry,” MM tries to soothe him into releasing the information he held. “Soldier Boy’s not gonna trace this back to you. Trust me.”

“Oh, trust you,” he exclaims. “Like I trusted him?” He was starting to get furious, pointing at Butcher. What a surprise, another person who the brit fucked over. “You forget what happened last time I helped? The underage hooker sting on Electroshock?”

The Legend disconnected his prosthetic leg, holding it in his hand like a baseball bat. 

“Woah there old sport, no funny games or you’ll lose that other leg too,” Vi threatens him immediately. If The Legend dared to smack Hughie sitting next to him in the face with that, then no discussion, she’ll materialize and will find Ben on her own. 

“You can’t trust a man like that! Everything and everyone he touches turns to shit,” he waved the prosthetic leg around, especially towards Butcher. As infuriating as it might sound, he might be onto something.

“Well,” Butcher starts, standing up, “you can trust me to bash your fucking brains out with that leg, mate.”

“Butcher, Vi, please,” MM straightens up too, trying to keep the nonexistent peace and harmony in the room. Vi was stubborn, refusing to pull her still unmaterialized hand away from The Legend’s head, while Butcher just strolled away to the side of the room. “Look, I’M the one you trust,” he continued while The Legend reattached his leg. “Now, you know what Soldier Boy did to my family, and you know because you okayed the cover-up.”

Vi’s attention perked up at this. Yes there were always some casualties, and yes, Vought did cover up basically all of them, but to know that this might be the reason why MM tagged along was something else for her. 

“Shit, I… I okayed a million cover-ups,” The Legend confusedly throws his hands around. 

“And they’re all tearing you up. So just make this one right, will you?”

The Legend’s mouth stays open, like he’s trying to find the right words. It was all just followed by a painfully long silence. He exhales, looking up at MM, before his eyes start observing the ground again. 

“I thought I was staring at a ghost,” he begins finally, “but it was him. He had a fucked-up beard, maybe, but he hadn’t aged a day.”

Vi had to agree with everything the man said. Even the fucked-up beard. But when she saw that it was him, she didn’t really process it, and he looked just like almost 40 years ago.

“Wait, so he doesn’t get old?” Hughie enters the conversation. He was so quiet that they almost totally forgot that he was there.

“We kept that under the wraps,” The Legend tries to continue, before being cut off by Vi.

“No, you fucking didn’t? How the fuck did people not realize it themselves? It’s known that he was in World War ll, and he was literally kicking in the 80s. He looked the same both times. Doesn’t that make it pretty obvious?”

The Legend just sighs, Vi obviously raising a good point. 

“Yeah, it did get a little fishy when he starred in that Love and War picture with Phoebe Cates. He was 63, she was 19. Oh, fuck, remember Entrapment? Connery banged Zeta-Jones. He was, like, a thousand!”

“Why was Soldier Boy here?” MM furiously cuts in, clearly full with all the bullshit. The Legend was starting to go off the rails again, avoiding talking about Ben. 

“Came to pick up his super suit,” he finally coughs it up. “I held on to it. You know me, I’m sentimental. Although I did wear the suit once for Kelly LeBrock. By the way, her, too,” he leans closer to Hughie.

Yeah, Ben will definitely know about this, especially if it depends on me. That suit needs to be washed immediately. Vi pulled her hand back from The Legend’s head, though was still ready to tear his intestines out if he did something he shouldn’t.  

“So, did he tell you where he was going next? Or that he was gonna blow up a fucking restaurant on 59th?” MM continues, anger lacing his words. 

“Who the hell knows why talent does what they do?” The Legend retorts, his arms open wide. “That’s why they’re talent.”

“Blowing up things is a pretty fucking weird talent to have,” Vi comments under her breath. The Legend looks down, exhaling.

“He also came for his girlfriend’s address,” he states, still looking down. “Not yours, don’t worry,” he says over his shoulder to Vi. She doubted that Ben was visiting her for hugs and talks. Now, there were either two scenarios: One, Ben is aware that Vi had no part in the Nicaragua incident, or two, he doesn’t know and is leaving her for last. “He’s headed there.”

“Crimson Countess?” Butcher rejoins the conversation, sauntering back to the group after staring out the window for the past minute. “Why?”

“I didn’t get the feeling it was gonna be a happy reunion, but I don’t know. Maybe you can go there and find out. But mostly, get the fuck out of here.”

“So what, we’re breaking into Crimson Countess’s house?” Hughie worriedly asks as the door slams behind them. 

“Not a house, just a trailer. And yeah, basically. You’ve done worse, I suppose,” Vi replies, walking next to him with quick steps. Ben was already ahead of them, they had no time to waste. It’s not that Vi didn’t want to see the Countess greeting death, but if Ben’s finished with her, then they’ll lose all leads of him again, and there won’t be anybody to help them out. Unless Ben plans on attempting to kill me too.
“What’s with the chimps anyway?” Butcher cuts in, referring to Countess and her basically living in a zoo. Chimp Country, as she called it.

“No idea. She’s been surrounded by them during her Payback era, I suppose,” Vi replies, opening the car’s door to the backseat of the car. 

“Take it slow, don’t get in yet,” he orders, clicking the trunk of the car open. Vi saunters back to the rest of the group. 

“I thought you were out,” MM exhales, taking a look inside the trunk. 

“Nipped into the Duane Reade, got some more, didn’t I?” Butcher speaks up with his strongly British accent. Inside the trunk were tiny vials filled with green liquid. Temp V. MM sighed disapprovingly. “Look, I know how you feel about this shite, but it’s Soldier Boy. So why don’t you come down off your high horse just this once, eh?”

Vi wasn’t too fond of Butcher talking about Ben like they were going to kill him. They technically couldn’t, not even Payback or the Russians could. The closest they got to killing Ben was putting him to sleep. 

Chapter Text

The door to Crimson Countess’ trailer flew open, the woman immediately flinching at the sound. Without any words and at an insane speed, the Ghost speeds through the cramped space, tackling the Countess off the bed, straight to the ground before she could react, only a “what the fuck” leaving her mouth. She was sure that she knocked something over in the process. Vi took this as a sign that her and The Boys managed to arrive before Ben did. She didn’t waste a second when she busted out of the almost still moving car and ran ahead of Butcher and Hughie, who were likely still somewhere near the gates of… well, whatever this chimp enclosure where Countess lived was. 

Vi didn’t care that this was supposed to be Butcher’s move, she had to have a word with Countess before she ends up in a situation worse than Kimiko in Russia. She was lucky enough to have Countess land on her stomach. Vi placed one of her boots on top of the other woman’s back, pressing her back to the ground, while also pulling her arms upwards, towards herself. She could’ve broken her spine right then and there, it was her chance to do so, but then she wouldn’t be able to talk, and anyways, why not let Ben have the pleasure of ending his former “girlfriend”?

“What the hell are you doing, you bitch?” Countess breathes out, venom lacing all her words. 

“I’m here to talk. You’re fucked.”

“I’m not as scared of you as you think,” she retorts.

“Good. Because it’s not me you should be scared of,” she confidently says, right before phasing right into Countess’ hand and materializing. The Countess lets out a deafening scream, blood flowing from where her left hand once was. 

It took Vi some time to get Countess on the chair she set up in almost the middle of the room, interrogation-style. Now, the Countess wasn’t much of a threat, with one of her hands missing. 

“I know. You’re mad at me. No magic hands anymore,” Vi starts, lightly motioning at the missing hand. She tried to minimize the bleeding by wrapping a hair tie on the woman’s wrist right above where her hand once was. Imagine if somebody with one hand got this power, no hand signs and no power. In the background was some guy talking, asking “where’d you go” for the millionth time. “I’m so- Could you switch that fucking TV off?!”

Countess glanced around quickly. The thing was, she didn’t have a TV. At first Vi didn’t mind, thinking it will be over soon, but this was either not coming from a TV, or was a pretty fucking boring and weird show. 

“It’s the phone. You uh… knocked it over,” Countess quietly states, her eyes fixed on the tiny setup, now knocked over on the ground. 

“Who the fuck would you be calling,” Vi breathes out, grabbing the ring light’s rod, placing the setup back to its original position. She read what was on the screen with squinted eyes, almost snorting a laugh when she realized. 

“Wha- SupePornPlatinum? Are the bills really this high? Wait, do you even pay bills for this tiny trailer?” She asks with a smile, looking over her shoulder, back at Countess, who was visibly miserable. Was it because her hand exploded a few minutes ago, or because somebody just discovered her secret porn site? Definitely the latter. “Your guy’s still here,” Vi continues, observing other details. “Okay Sir uh… I’m not saying that, my guy, but the show's over, now go and touch some grass. Bye!” And with that, she ends the call. “Wait, you actually charge people for this?” She asks, noticing the banner on the side. “19.50 dollars per minute, that’s… that’s 390 whole crisp american dollars! Shit, that much for your shriveled up pussy? Who would- Okay, I get why they put you with Ben out of all supes.”

The Countess was just trying to avoid eye contact at this point. 

“On the topic of Ben,” Vi brings up, “do you know what exactly happened to him? Just asking.”

“I told you,” Countess whimpers lightly, trying to break out of her confines, “the Russians took him. We couldn’t help, and-”

“And do you know what exactly the Russians did to him?” She asks. Countess just kept quiet, now maintaining eye contact with her ex-colleague. She didn't, to be honest. She just wanted to get rid of Ben. 

“No,” she finally musters up. 

“That’s the thing, Shirley. They didn’t kill him. They couldn’t. So now he’s coming to get you,” Vi states matter of factly as she picks out an orange from a bowl sitting on one of the shelves. Countess’ eyes widen, the realization catching up to her along with the consequences of her actions. 

“And why’re you here? By the looks of it, you wouldn’t want to save me. And if you know Ben’s plan, then you aren’t waiting to meet him either.”

“I’m actually not sure. All I know is that he’s headed here, and apparently isn’t happy about you handing him over to the Russians,” she says, peeling the orange as much as she could. 

“Not sure? Oh, then you haven’t met him yet, I guess. Am I right?”

“Was this your lucky guess? But yeah, I saw him in Russia, then he just left, and not long after, he turned up in midtown Manhattan, only leaving death and destruction behind himself. So after a long and excruciating talk, I got a hold of the information that he picked up his suit and shield, and is on his way here.”

“But his suit and shield was at… No way. There isn’t a single way you, out of all people, would go to The Legend out of free will,” she chuckles to herself.

“Yeah, I thought the same, but some things are worth visiting The Legend for.”

“So you were willing to go to that pervert just to know where Ben is? Just as I thought, you haven’t changed a thing,” Countess says with a smile. 

Now, it was Vi’s turn to be silent. Because Countess was right. This was why Vi hated her. Not because she was right, because nine out of ten times she wasn’t. You haven’t changed a thing. She heard that so many times during her Payback era. It was actually the last thing she heard from Crimson Countess before Vi voluntarily left the group. And that was right after Nicaragua. 

“This is exactly your problem. You let your emotions get in your way. This is your problem, Vienne. We could’ve gotten rid of Ben without handing him over to the Russians if you helped us. But you didn’t see that he was getting so out of hand, violent, just because you liked him. Just because you were his friend and you refused to believe that he was starting to lose his mind,” Countess adds. She knew that Vi can phase through anything and anyone, and that included even supes like Soldier Boy, whose skin was apparently invincible. If only they had her on their side in NIcaragua, they would’ve had to spend a lot less energy and planning.

“He liked you. He liked most of the team.”

“And we hated him. None of us knew why you, out of all people, were on his side the whole time. We could’ve taken him down sooner if you just phased into his heart, but you didn’t. Hell, even Gunpowder agreed to us terminating Ben,” Countess scoffs.

“But you didn’t terminate him, because he’s free now, roaming the streets, and will find you sooner or later. He might be here in a few minutes.” 

“If he sees you here too, you’ll be just as dead as me. He has no idea whether you took part in the Nicaragua incident or not, and I don’t think he’ll just believe everything you say.”

“He will know. I’m sure of it. Therefore, I am not as fucked as you.”

“I was his girlfriend, I’m the last one he would suspect.”

“Pretend-girlfriend, you mean.”

“What we had was made to seem like it was real, even for Ben.”

“Like I said, he liked you, so I guess it did work in a way. But not out of like… true love, or what you’d call it. But he really thought you loved him. For real. Even if it was just for cameras.”

It took Countess all her acting skills and self-control to keep a straight and confident expression on her face. Deep down, she knew she was fucked. 

“I see through you. Metaphorically. I know you’re scared,” Vi states, finally taking the first bite of her orange. “You’re hell of an actor. I mean, performing the same song about Ben every day and acting like you mourn him, meanwhile you were the one that got him to the Russians? Funny, if you ask me. They could’ve gotten somebody else for this.”

“Like who, you? I knew him in person and you refused to be in anything, that’s why they chose me. Because I can sing, unlike you.”

“And I have both my hands, unlike you.”

Not even a moment after she utters these words, Butcher bursts in. He comes to a halt as he sees that the situation’s already been taken care of. 

“Well, good girl,” he pats Vi’s shoulder, who was still munching on that orange, “and for you, Crimson Cunt, I reckon she already told you about Loverboy.”

“The Russians couldn’t have set him free. I know you’re lying,” Countess spoke. She was the only one lying to herself in that room.

“But we could, and we did,” he grunts as he kneels down, securing Crimson Countess’ hands to the chair with duct tape. Though, the missing left hand did raise questions, at least until he saw Vi’s bloodied hand. She’s not holding back shit. “Not the dom-sub rumble you fancied tonight, yeah?”

Crimson Countess’ eyes widen as she notices Butcher’s eyes glowing with a yellow shade. 

“What the fuck’s up with him?” She asks, the question aimed at MM, who just entered the trailer.

“We ain’t here to hurt you,” MM replies calmly. Vi would have something to say. Especially about hurting Countess. And maybe about severing a hand. “But I am gonna tell you something, and I don’t want to lose your shit.”

“We’ve already been through this with her, MM,” Vi cuts in. 

“Yeah, that’s for not hurting me!” Countess breaks out.

“What the fuck did you do, Ghost?” MM furiously stares at her, the anger so visible in his eyes. 

“You seriously didn’t notice her left hand? Or at least where it once was.”

MM deeply inhales, burying his face in his palms. His plan was to calmly tell Crimson Countess that Soldier Boy is on his way, but it seemed like it was a bad idea to let Vi go ahead of them. 

“I did try to minimize the bleeding,” Vi adds, hoping that it will calm down MM, at least a bit. Not that it worked, but was worth a shot. 

“Well then,” Butcher interferes before things could escalate, “we got a big fish on the hook, and you’re the worm,” he says to Countess before exiting the trailer. 

“Is this a joke?! Is this a fucking joke?!” Countess shouts desperately after them as they leave one by one, with Butcher leaving first, and Vi at the end of the line. “Come on, let me go. Come on guys!”

Vi glances back at the tied down woman one last time, stopping in the doorway for a few seconds. She wasn’t worried nor sad for her. Vi just mischievously waves at Countess from the doorway.

“Fuck you, Vienne. There’s a devil behind your angel eyes,” Countess breathes out, staring right into Vi’s eyes as she closes the door behind herself.

Hughie was already waiting outside, a massive sports bag thrown on the trailer’s porch in front of him. Butcher didn’t share every bit of his plan, so Vi had no idea what his next step would be. It is likely that they are going to wait for Ben to appear, let him handle Crimson Countess, then… who knows. So, waiting, she sat down on the porch, next to the bag with a sigh. 

“So… How’d it go?” Hughie quietly asks, his question directed at Vi. She sighs before speaking, her head tilted backwards as she observes the night sky.

“Well, I suppose. I settled some things with this Crimson Cunt, as Butcher worded it. Had the talk that we never got to have. Nothing too important, but it’s good for my soul to let it out and all that. She was my Jolene,” she tells Hughie, who just purses his lips in reply, not wanting to know what the two supes got into. “I also blasted her hand off,” Vi adds. No need to say that Hughie’s eyes widened. This boy’s flabbergasted!

“As in like Dolly Parton’s Jolene?”

“Yeah. See, you’ve got some weird ass music taste, but it’s good, don’t let people convince you it’s not. Trust me. But yeah, that. Glad that I phased into her hand.”

“That’s… cool? I mean, it is a pretty fucking dope power you’ve got. Did you get to choose it?”

“No, not at all. I didn’t even choose whether I wanted to get it. At first I wanted to, because Ben applied for the experiment, and I just didn’t want him to go alone. They didn’t let me in though, so I just ended up working by his side. Until I got seriously injured. Then he insisted on me getting the V, saying that this is the only thing around that can grant me a chance to live. And here I am, living. Maybe for too long now,” she continues, almost trailing off and dropping all the information on Hughie, almost getting lost in her own head, thoughts.

“Is… Is Ben who I think it is?” Hughie asks, some enthusiasm lacing his voice. 

“Kid, my superpower is density manipulation, not mind reading, how the fuck am I supposed to know who you’re thinking about?” She tiredly asks. “But nevermind, okay?”

“I… Okay, then. Nevermind, just like you said.”

“Thanks, boy,” she weakly smiles. “He liked me, and he was happy with me. Fuck knows why anyone would be happy with me, but he was.”

Hughie keeps quiet. Whoever her Ben was, he must’ve been important. The Robin to her Hughie, he thought.

“Oi Hughie,” Butcher’s accent rings out, “let Ghostie leave, won’t you?”

“No, he’s good company,” Vi cuts in. Hughie was the most tolerable of the whole bunch, with Butcher just being an insufferable ‘cunt’ as he himself would say it, MM straight up hunting Soldier Boy, and well, Frenchie and Kimiko in some hospital. “I don’t plan on leaving right when things are escalating.”

“Hey Hughie,” MM speaks up, throwing what looked like a bottle towards the boy, who catches it immediately. 

“You sure halothane will work?” Hughie asks, filled with doubts about the plan. The plan that Vi knew nothing about.

“Looked that way in the Red’s video,” MM replies. This was when it hit Vi.

“Wait,” she speaks up, “you’re planning to kill Soldier Boy with that?”

“Not kill, sweetheart,” Butcher answers, “just put him to sleep.”

Vi was in some hidden disbelief. 

“We knock him out, we keep him out, then we figure out what to do with him,” MM finishes, now turning to Vi. Her brows furrow, clearly not agreeing to the plan.

“What the hell’s going on?” Another voice intercepts. This time, a feminine one. Butcher’s expression was one of pure surprise, staring at the blonde girl approaching them. Hughie’s eyes went wide at the sight, completely not expecting this.

“Annie, what are you doing here?” He asks.

“MM called me,” she replies.

“Did he?” Hughie suspiciously asks, turning to the other man.

“Just told her we might need some backup.”

“I’m not enough backup for you?” Vi questions, yet again in disbelief. 

“I wasn’t sure whether you’d actually attack him if it came to that, so no, you’re not enough backup. That’s all.”

Vi just hatefully glared at MM, disappointment in her eyes, while Hughie tried to convince his girlfriend to leave the scene.

“Oi, you lot, take your tiff somewhere else,” Butcher cuts in. “We’re on a job here.”

This somehow got both Hughie and Annie to leave, drawn away to a further zone. Vi just watched as they left, not taking her eyes off them, just in case she would accidentally make eye contact with MM. 

The Geiger counter on the porch slowly comes to life, attracting the attention of Vi and Butcher. The clicking of it progressively intensified, a clear sign that Ben was in fact nearby. MM slowly straightens up, but as soon as he stands up on his two feet, he falls backwards with a grunt. Butcher just watched intensely.

“What the… Hey, isn’t there something we should do?” Vi worriedly asks. As much as she was angry with MM, he was still looking like he was about to faint any minute now. This is exactly your problem. You let your emotions get in your way. This is your problem, Vienne. No, fuck whatever Countess said. When she tries to step closer to MM, Butcher places his hand on her shoulder, and gently shakes his head sideways, a look on his face that said “leave it”. Meanwhile, MM had a hard time keeping himself intact, his eyes now glued onto the empty water bottle. He shoots a knowing glare at Butcher, who doesn’t say a word, just keeps staring at his sickly friend. If he has any friends to start with. With what seemed like all his remaining strengths, MM throws himself at Butcher, holding onto his long, black coat like his life depended on it, staring up at the momentarily emotionless Butcher. 

“What’d you do?” He musters up, grunting as his body tries to pull him to the ground.

“I know you’re never gonna forgive me, but you left me no choice,” he quietly replies.

“Why?” That was all MM could press out right then and there. 

“I can’t draw no line, M. Not with what I got to do. I’m sorry. You’ll be alright in the morning,” he reassuringly says, standing there motionless like a statue or pole, watching MM tumble to the ground, now almost unconscious. 

Vi lowers herself, hoping that Butcher was right and MM will be good as new in the morning. What caught her eye was that MM’s eyes were focused in only one spot. A spot somewhere behind her. Something had to be there for sure, the footsteps making it obvious. 

Vi slowly turns around, still squatting next to MM. Her mouth stays open, as if she was going to say something, anything, but no sound came from her. 

A golden belt buckle decorated with a star. A knife attached to it, the end of it curving into a shape similar to an eagle. Green fabric and chest plate. And a massive, triangular shield, yet again sharing resemblance to an eagle, this too golden. He’s here.

Chapter Text

There was dead silence, but only maybe for a second before the brit’s accented voice sounded.

“Get back to the car, Ghostie,” he quietly orders, not once taking his eyes off the figure approaching them. “I’ll handle this.”

“You won’t handle shit if he kills you. I’m staying,” she whispers back, eyeing the man coming closer with every passing second. 

“He might try to kill you too, and then there won’t be any conversation. I have a plan, so get the hell away.”

“He knows I’m here, he has eyes. If I ran, then he would actually attack, probably thinking I’m too scared to look into his eyes after Nicaragua. So no.”

Soldier Boy. Equipped with his iconic shield, and finally without his stupid helmet. He came to a halt many steps away from Butcher and Vi, his eyes scanning the two people in front of him. Vi’s heart started beating in a hastened pace, awaiting the next move. She wasn’t planning on saying anything, it was almost impossible for her, and seemingly Butcher was waiting for Ben to make the first move as he stood up. Ben’s moves were slow as he shifted the shield in his hand, and not even a moment later, the shield flew through the air with an insane speed, aimed at one person. 

Vi’s eyes widen as the golden colored shield speeds through her, cutting through the air, and finally crashing into the porch behind her. If it wasn’t for her ability, she would’ve been dead by now. Ben straightens up, his confused expression morphing into something else, almost as if he was proud. Butcher shoots Vi a look that says “told you so,” before looking back at Ben, who now took a few steps closer to regain his shield. Vi stood up, her eyes never leaving Ben’s figure. He was back, flesh and soul, and his suit still fit. He even had a nice beard and his old hairstyle was back. 

He reaches for the shield, pulling it out from the wood it got stuck into, glancing at Vi next to it, checking her out as if he was still contemplating whether it was really her or not. He remembered what happened in Nicaragua, and that Vi was in fact not part of it. He stays in one place next to her for some moments. He was starting to think Vi was mute by now, but hey, isn’t that what Vi thought about him? They didn’t hear each other say a word, not even in Russia. 

Ben smirks, chuckling to himself before pulling Vi closer to him with his free hand, the shield in the other. Vi was somewhat taken aback by the gesture, with Ben’s hand draped over her shoulders like a half-hug. He just rested his chin on top of her head. 

“It’s been so long. I can’t believe it’s you,” Vi begins quietly, breaking the peaceful silence between them, hugging Ben back, almost as if she was afraid that he will evaporate if she doesn’t do so. It was like seeing a ghost, even if she saw him in Russia. 

“I know, it’s been a while. You look good,” he says in a low tone. Maybe he was avoiding further attention from Butcher, who was almost fed up with the two. Countess had to be eliminated, and Soldier Boy had to be on their side. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to get Countess, maybe Ghost would’ve been enough, but it’s too late now, because Crimson Cunt - his words, not mine -, was already missing a hand and was attached to a chair with duct tape. With duct tape, really?

“I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Me neither. But here we are, and I’m glad,” Ben speaks, a smile on his face as he pats Vi’s shoulder, letting her go from his embrace. His eyes were now fixed on the brit in front of him. 

“You’re that asshole from the lab,” Ben states, eyeing Butcher. 

“That’s right,” Butcher grins, “I’m the arsehole that let you out. Russian Porta-Loos, eh? You want Countess’ head on a spike, don’t you? Well she’s in there, yours for the taking.”

Ben slowly glances back at Vi standing a step behind him, waiting for some confirmation. She shrugs with a slight smirk on her face. She can’t lie, she was proud about that left hand Countess lost. 

“Consider it a gesture of good faith,” Butcher continues. 

“Good faith for what?” Ben counters immediately. Even if Vi was there, he didn’t exactly understand why she would work with someone else. There had to be something behind this, this had to be part of some plan. Butcher saunters closer, keeping the eye contact. 

“I was thinking that you and I could come to a little arrangement. What you lot call… a team up.”

It came clear to Vi that whatever Butcher had in mind crossed over MM’s plans. This was why Butcher couldn’t let MM stay awake, and why Vi was allowed to be on the team. Butcher was willing to do anything to defeat Homelander, even if it meant teaming up with two supes. Better have them with you than against you. 

Ben stays quiet, contemplating for a second. An alliance. Why would this extremely British man want his help? Whatever it was, he went all the way to Russia for it, and went up against Crimson Countess for it. Then there was the fact that Vi was seemingly with him, too. Butcher couldn’t have forced her to do this, she would’ve just slipped away easily. She was here out of free will, and she wasn’t the most willing person. No signs of her being some hostage or shapeshifter either. 

With no more words, he steps up the porch, the door to the trailer opening with a creak as he steps through it.

Vi just watched as Ben entered the same trailer she just left a couple of minutes ago, her eyes on that same door even after Ben closed it behind himself. 

“C’mon Ghostie,” Butcher says as he starts heading back towards the car parked outside the park with MM over his shoulders. “Wouldn’t want to get caught up in that potential explosion, would you?”

Shooting one last glance back at the trailer, Vi follows behind Butcher. Crimson Countess was easy picking even for Butcher, Ben won’t even have to overstrain himself, especially considering that Countess’ hand was taped to the chair, or at least what remained of one of her hands. If she has no hands, then no hand signs either. Vi’s steps speed up, finally catching up to Butcher.

An explosion shakes them, the wind howling through the scene, taking everything with it. Leaves and small pieces of trash flew past them, and it was already clear that Ben's ability was capable of more than what he had demonstrated in Russia. Vi jerks her head back, but the caravan was no longer there. In its place, only rubble remained of what had once been the home of the Crimson Countess, the remains also in flames. Butcher looked back in the same way, only to be greeted by the same sight. He fixed his gaze on Vi after placing MM down on the ground, and as if they understood each other without words, they simultaneously started running back towards the remains of the trailer.

“Keep an eye on him!” He shouts to Hughie and Annie, both appearing behind him, lured back here by the sound of the blast. 

Ben stepped out of the rubble, a little wobbly, but still there and alive. The same could not be said for Crimson Cuntess. The smoke surrounded him as he started heading towards the group, because Hughie and Starlight were not far from them either, just a few steps away. A slight static-like sound hits Vi’s ears from behind her. Turning around, she sees Annie a step behind her, her eyes glowing with a whitish hue. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Vi mumbles to her, tilting her head as she does so. Ben was now on their side, but if this girl tries to attack him, then that’s that, Butcher can say goodbye to both Ben and Vi. Ben stared back at Annie with furrowed brows. That was when Hughie interfered, stepping in front of his girlfriend. Annie’s eyes slowly lose their light.

“What are you doing?” She quietly asks, as calmly as she could. 

With his job done and no plans for the next step, and now the signs of a threat gone, Ben walks off. Glancing back at Vi, Butcher also gets going with the girl by his side. 

“We wanted a weapon,” Hughie begins to explain. Vi could only faintly hear his next words as she walked away from them, following Ben. This was why she went all the way to Russia, this was why she agreed to go to The Legend.

“Hughie,” Butcher calmly calls out to the boy as a sign that he should follow them. Meanwhile, Vi’s steps quickened, only to slow back once she reached Ben’s side. 

He was still just as tall, The Legend was right, he looked just like Vi saw him the last time. She had so many questions for him. But he didn’t try to kill her, at least not yet, does that mean he knew she wasn’t part of whatever went down in Nicaragua?

“I’m sorry,” Ben speaks, breaking the silence, his eyes now turning towards Vi.

“For what? If it’s Nicaragua, then don’t say anything. I know what happened,” she replies quietly. Ben doesn’t answer, he just fixes his eyes back on the road, following Vi to the car with Butcher and Hughie trailing somewhere behind them.

The car ride was somewhat awkward, but at least not between Vi and Ben. It was Hughie’s occasional side glances towards Ben in the backseat, sitting next to Vi. She still had no idea what Butcher’s exact plan was, but at least Ben was here on the team, and seemingly had no plans of leaving. 

“You were there in Russia, weren’t you?” Ben begins, turning his head towards Vi.

“Yeah, I was. But you didn’t seem to notice me,” she replies. 

“I was still somewhere in the clouds, I suppose. But if this brit was there, and you’re with him, it was worth asking. It’s nice to know that at least one person from Payback took their time to look for me. Especially knowing it was you.”

The others would have never even tried to look for him. Even Ben knew that they were the ones who handed him over to the Russians. 

“You missed out on so many things,” Vi tiredly says. It was maybe around 1 AM by then. “Most importantly, The Legend wore your suit.”

Ben’s brows furrow immediately . No, no NONONO.

“That old fuck wore my suit? This suit?” He bursts out, still trying to be calm. Vi just calmly nods. “How the hell’d you know?”

“He said it himself,” Vi confidently replies. She was so ready to flame The Legend.

“He did,” Hughie joins in, confirming, “right to my face, too.”

“You went to The Legend?” Ben asks in disbelief. For one, Vi was against The Legend and everything he did. Second, The Legend doesn’t just take visitors. Vi shrugs in response.

“Where do you think we knew where you were headed from?” She questions. Ben shuts his eyes, trying to delete the image of his suit on The Legend from his mind. How did he even fit into it?!

“Okay, uh, I’ll need a beer for that once we get… wherever this guy’s taking us,” he sighs, gesturing towards Butcher in the driver’s seat. 

“You know what I want right now?” Vi asks, turning her head towards Ben. “An apple juice and those chocolate chip cookies, and a ‘67 Chevrolet Impala.”

“I had a Chevy. Or like, I thought,” Ben replies, digging out a distant memory. Vi’s brows furrow, studying Ben’s face to see whether he was high or not. Just in case. 

“You never had a car, Ben. Especially not a ‘67 Chevy Impala, specifically,” she finally says, a little unsure. Ben never got a driver's license in his life, let alone a car.

“I know, but I was asleep from like… 2005 up until now, and trust me, I dreamt during that time. A pretty long and massive one at that. There, I had a ‘67 Chevy Impala,” he explains.

“What the-”

“Okay lovebirds, this is our last stop. We’ll be living in one room like one, big, happy family. Except we’re fucking miserable instead of happy,” Butcher cuts in, the life the car’s engine as he removes the keys. 

Vi glances out the window, noticing that they are parked in front of a pretty run-down motel. At least nobody will try looking for them there.

Chapter Text

Butcher tosses a bag of fries and burgers onto the table in front of Ben. Vi managed to find him some blue jersey top for the night. His suit was with Vi, making her way to the laundromat a few buildings away. Ben was almost in a quarantine, they had to keep him away from the public as much as possible. And anyway, would he know how these machines work? Probably not. So now it was up to the others to get everything for him. This was why Butcher agreed to go and get the food, while Vi was waiting at the laundromat for the machine to finish. No need to say that once she got the huge green suit out of the washing machine, she got a few looks from the old ladies there. 

Now they were all in the room, with Ben just munching away his food while the others just… stood and watched him, basically. 

“Noir’s still kicking. He’s part of the modern version of Payback,” Vi explains. Now was the time to cross-check everybody’s plans. Turned out that Ben was looking for payback on Payback. To his luck, all of them were still alive except Swatto.

“There’s a new Payback?” Ben questions with furrowed brows, still chewing on his burger.

“They call themselves The Seven. There’s only six of them right now so the name doesn’t make much sense, but you get the idea,” Vi continues, seizing a few fries from Ben’s meal, sitting down at the table next to him. 

“Why don’t they just call themselves The Six?”

“It would be hard to rebrand, I suppose.”

Butcher gets out another paper bag, emptying its contents on the table. A beer and Benzedrine. 

“Man, I missed bennies,” Ben breathes out, observing the tiny orangish container between his fingers. Vi extends her hand, gesturing for Ben to hand it over. Instead, he just places a tiny white pill in her hand, completely mistaking the sign. 

“No, I meant the whole container,” she words it out, much to the dismay of Ben, who just takes back the previously handed over single pill in response. A whole bottle of Benzedrine was not in good hands with Ben, and Vi knew it. This was the same thing he and basically every soldier abused in World War ll to stay awake and keep their confidence, and Vi witnessed it all. 

“Hand it over. Now.”

“No, why the hell would I?” he exclaims, now turning his attention to Hughie. “It’s how we won D-Day, you know. We were wired to the fucking gills. Not her though,” he adds, lazily pointing at Vi. 

Hughie was certainly not amused by the fact. He just watches as Soldier Boy places a few pills on the table, grabs his combat knife, and smashes it right into the pills, grinding them into a powder-like substance. Vi snatches the rest of the pills away, earning a hateful glare from Ben. 

“Why’d you take it?” He questions. 

“Because you just woke up from years of sleeping, I don’t think this should be your first meal,” she conjures up. Ben didn’t need to know this was partly a lie. 

“Exactly, this right here will keep me focused enough. I want the rest back.”

“No, it’s better here with me. You’ll get some when it’s fit, but that’s more than enough for you right now,” she replies, patting her coat’s pocket with the container in it. 

“Listen,” Butcher cuts in, “let’s have a little chat about this teamup, yeah?”

“Yeah, what the hell do I need a team for? The last one handed me to the Reds. Not you, Vi, you’re amazing,” he adds upon remembering that she was part of Payback too. 

“And we got you out of that pickle,” Butcher speaks, looking around the group. “We wrapped up Crimson Cuntess and delivered her like a fucking christmas turkey, and I even sorted Gunpowder for you.”

The latter news actually surprised Vi somehow. She heard Butcher and MM argue about it back in Russia, but she missed out half the conversation and what she heard was pale, so she just thought it was a tough beating for information. Not exactly death. Not that she had some strong connection with Gunpowder, but she did try to look after that kid when she had to. The hamster incident, oh hell no. 

“Why am I supposed to be impressed with that?” Ben questions, taking a bite out of one of his burgers. There was some truth to what he said, because Gunpowder wasn’t the strongest supe out there. Vi wasn’t even sure whether he had V-powers, or was just an exceptionally great gunslinger. “That’s like killing Emmanuel Lewis.”

From the corner of her eye, Vi could see Hughie reaching for the massive shield resting next to the couch. At first he tries to lift it with one hand, then after an attempt, he grabs it with both hands, pulling it towards him, but to no avail. She tries to silently warn Hughie with her hands, trying to swoosh Hughie away. He just doesn’t seem to notice, resuming his activity. Let him try, then. Just don’t let Ben see it. Ben was really particular on who gets to wield his shield and who doesn’t. Vi doubted that Hughie was allowed to. 

“Hands off the fucking shield,” Ben blurts out confidently, his eyes fixed on the shield. Hughie immediately retreats, letting go of the shield that he couldn’t lift. That thing had its own serious weight, maybe it was heavier than Vi herself. Still, Ben always lifted it up with ease. 

“Anyway,” Butcher continues, “you want payback on Payback, don’t you?”

Ben takes a swig from his beer, shrugging at what Butcher asked. Yes, that was his plan, but it wasn’t clear why he would “need the assistance of a twink and a brit,” as he said last night to Vi. His words, I suppose. 

“Well, it just so happens that we,” Butcher says, pulling a wide-eyed Hughie closer to him, “are experts at exterminating shitbag supes. You see, it’s a whole different world out there now, son. We’re here to help you find your way.”

Ben looks up, placing his beer on the table.

“Well, I can find them on my own,” he immediately retorts, a smile on his face. Vi began to doubt this. 

“Uh, are you sure?” Hughie meekly asks, hands crossed over his chest. 

“He isn’t,” Vi answers instead of Ben. Butcher was right when he said that the world’s changed since 1984, as much as it hurt Vi to admit it. Communication, transportation, everything, even the people. Ben just shot her a disapproving look in answer, munching on his burger. Vi points at the corner of her own mouth, signaling for Ben that he has something there. Eat your fucking salad burger, then talk. 

“You know what a GPS is?” Hughie continues, his words aimed towards Ben, “Or-or Bluetooth? Or, I mean… the internet?”

This time, Ben waits for himself to chew his food properly, just staring at the boy for some seconds, before smirking.

“You made those words up,” he says with too much confidence, pointing at Hughie, a huge smile on his face. He was so sure of himself there. 

“No, those are actually real things,” Vi corrects him, “and you need those to find them.”

“All right? You need us,” Hughie finishes. Ben stays quiet, averting eye contact as he slightly shakes his head sideways.

“Kid’s right,” Butcher cuts in, “all we ask in return is you add one more name to the list,” he dramatically drags his words out. Ben places his food down on the table.

“Who?” Ben asks with a theatrical hand gesture.

“A right cunt named Homelander,” Butcher begins.

“You really plan on putting him up against Homelander?” Vi cuts in. She had a feeling that this was the plan, but hearing it out loud sounded so weird to her. If Butcher couldn’t get the thing that “killed” Soldier Boy, then he will get Soldier Boy.

“He’s not going to croak by himself, so yeah.”

“I’ve seen pictures,” Ben cuts in. “Who is he?”

“He’s the new you,” Butcher smirks. This was a degree softer than his signature grin.

“No one’s the new me, pal. But why him?”

“Let’s just say you’re not the only one who wants payback.”

Ben just hums in response, looking down at the table. Vi couldn’t tell what exactly he was thinking, but her best guess would’ve been that Ben’s contemplating. It was sometimes a rare sight to see.

“All right,” he breathes out, back at grinding down all the pills to dust. Butcher’s expression visibly changes, almost as if he was shocked that Soldier Boy agreed to his awful plan. “You help me find the rest of my team, and I’ll help you with this Homelander.”

With a grunt, he buried his face into the pile of white powder on the desk, the remains of it stuck onto his nose once he resurfaced. Even Vi was a tad bit surprised at how quickly he agreed, but he wasn’t a too complicated man, and even better, he was a man of his word. If he promises to kill Homelander, then he’ll get it done one way or another as long as Butcher doesn’t interfere.

“Oi, Ghostie,” Butcher rings out again, this time towards Vi, “what do you say? Care to join us in sending Homelander somewhere where the sun don’t shine?”

What was there to say? Ben agreed, and she wasn’t just going to leave them to do whatever they want, out of control. Who knows, maybe she will make a useful addition to this ragtag team. 

“I haven’t done much hero-ing around lately, but I have a bone to pick with Vought. I’m in,” she shrugs, taking some fries from Ben’s meal. It’s always been like this. They get one meal, where Ben devours the burger with barely any fries, leaving almost the whole pack of fries for Vi, even if it was unintentional. 

The game was on. Vi and Hughie stayed with Ben inside the motel room, while Butcher was going who knows where to get intel on the whereabouts of what remained of Payback. Hughie gave life to the TV about half an hour ago, but with the remote lost, they were stuck on a single channel. Ben insisted that they keep that one on, as if they had many other options. At first, Vi was curious and confused as to why Ben would gain sudden interest in a TV show or a movie, but when she saw it, she couldn’t help but sigh. Red Thunder. A Payback movie she despised, and yet again refused to take part in. 

“You should’ve taken this role, too,” Ben speaks up, motioning towards the TV screen. This time, it was inescapable to get somebody other than Sigourney Weaver.

“But I didn’t,” Vi replies confidently, sitting on the bed next to Ben, while Hughie anxiously keeps his eyes on the Geiger counter in his hands. Ben was now radioactive, and through some weird discovery, they found out that the more stressed he gets, the more radioactive he is, up until triggering a radioactive explosion. 

”Yeah, I know. I almost had to kiss Sigourney Weaver because of it.,” he complains, eyes still on the TV.

“What the fuck is going on between you and Sigourney Weaver? I’m starting to think this was why you wanted to attack me back at Countess’ uh… chimpanzee enclosure?”

”Wait, so it really was a chimp place? I thought I was hallucinating or some shit. Why the hell would she live there…”

“Had some weird chimp obsession, was also some wildlife activist or something. She has a song about chimps, actually. I’m pretty sure that if you switched to a music channel, that would be playing. Either that or Hughie’s girlfriend singing,” Vi explains, Hughie’s ears perking up at the mention of Annie. 

“This twink’s girlfriend is a singer?”

“No, a supe.”

“Why the fuck do all supes sing? Is this some V thing?”

“Probably not, considering I can’t. Or I’m just defected. Hell, I’m glad if I’m defected, because I’d bury myself if they made me sing some of that shit,” Vi sighs, eating the very last remaining fry. Probably still her most filling meal up to date that month. 

“I really missed out on a lot of things, didn’t I?” He calmly asks. He wanted to see everything, he wanted to get some time to adjust and discover everything that’s happened in the past years, even if the time he got was just a week. He wanted Vi to give him a tour on everything, because unlike him, she stayed. 

“Yeah. A lot. I think there are some things you would love. Like, I just looked at it and thought ‘Ben would love this’, and hoped that someday, you’ll see it,” she ponders, rethinking so many things. The Godfather gained a third part while Ben was away. He would also love video games like Metal Gear Solid or the Far Cry game series, maybe Call of Duty. He also had to be introduced to whatever Costco is, but he’d probably hate self driving cars, though, because where’s the fun in that? Vi’s imagination ran wild, staring at Ben while thinking about things that he would either love or hate. He’d still hate Vought, and he’d be surprised that Liberty was now a nazi Stormfront.

Ben takes his eyes off the TV, now side-eyeing Vi, who was now sinking deep in thought. He just smirks, the expression familiar to him. He knew that when Vi looked like her head was empty and no thoughts in her head, that’s when she was really thinking. And now, she was thinking, and just like before, Ben couldn’t put his finger on it, he just wasn’t able to tell what could be going on in her head. Things have changed, but luckily, Vi hasn’t. And he meant this in a much different way than Countess did. She remembered him, when it seemed like the public forgot him and ditched him for Homelander. There was something comforting about this for him. He wanted to have a heart-to-heart talk with her, but what would he say? He had no idea. Reminiscence about the past? No, he deemed that too cheesy for himself.

It was only now that it struck Hughie that Vi outright called Soldier Boy… Ben. It wasn’t the first time that he heard that name from Vi specifically. For Hughie, Ben was some mysterious character from Vi’s past that he just presumed dead, inferring from the way she talked about him. At first I wanted to, because Ben applied for the experiment, and I just didn’t want him to go alone, Vi’s words echoed in his mind. Yes, Soldier Boy got the V, that’s how he became, well, Soldier Boy! Now it all made sense to him, everything. 

“Ben is Soldier Boy?” He blurts out with eyes so wide with realization. He grabs the attention of both supes, who just shoot him a confused look. It took a few seconds for Vi’s mind to register that she just called Soldier Boy Ben right in front of Hughie. Fuck did he have to be so quiet for, I almost forgot he was here at all. “Just… Forget that I said anything,” Hughie adds upon not receiving an answer from either of them, even after a lengthy silence. 

The movie went on, and Ben, in his usual fashion, kept making his own snarky or mean remarks and comments. It was comforting for Vi in a way, a reminder of what life used to be.

“These fucking twins,” Ben breathes out, shaking his head sideways as the scene with the TNT Twins, their powers partly poorly made with VFX, a real use of it would’ve been deemed too dangerous, what they did was a mere circus trick, held back, but some of it was there, some edited post-production. “You know they couldn’t hit their fucking marks?” He questions, his words aimed at Hughie. “Fucking unprofessionals is what they are.”

Vi could hear the crinkling sound of the Geiger counter, a worried Hughie speaking up.

“Hey, uh, yeah, Butcher’s gonna find them,” he says, trying to soothe Ben. This probably meant that the radiation levels were getting higher with every annoyed word coming from Ben. “Why don’t you uh, why don’t you get some sleep?”

“Mm, no, I’ve slept enough,” Ben nonchalantly replies, taking a swig from his leftover beer, leaving Hughie to just sigh at the response.

An advertisement interrupted the movie, playing an upbeat, jingly tune. Starlight Diapers. For Vi, the real question was whether Annie herself agreed to this or not. The man in the ad was wearing a baby sling, and just as Vi mentally predicted, Ben had something to say about it. His brows slightly furrowed, and for a moment, he just tried to find the right words. 

“Do men really walk around like that?” He finally asks.

“Yeah, I mean, dads do,” Hughie enthusiastically replies.

“Good dads,” Vi adds, emphasizing the word good.

“Fuck, then mine would sure as hell stay away from that thing,” Ben comments, the image of his dad vividly in his mind. He was dead by now, and in some way, Ben was happy about it. In some other ways, he was disappointed. Because even with his attempts, his dad died thinking that his son was unworthy of his name, and not even the V could change that. 

Vi had an idea of what Ben was thinking, actually. His mind was easier for her to read, that can’t be said vice-versa. Ben was lost in hers. All those years, and there was something unpredictable, something mysterious yet still comforting, even melancholic in the way Vi’s mind worked. Sometimes, Ben wondered if it was just him who was so lost when it came to the girl’s thought, he wondered if there was anybody out there that could figure it out, or if everyone else was just as clueless as him. 

“Okay, well,” Ben continues with a chuckle, “Bill Cosby is America's dad, and, tell you one thing, he wouldn’t be caught dead in that pussy gear.”

Vi shot a worried look at Hughie. Another thing he missed, I suppose.

“Lot to unpack there. Uh,” Hughie begins, before being cut off by Ben continuing his rambling.

“The Cos. That’s a real man,” he speaks to Hughie, a smile on his face as he keeps going, “Holy shit, did he make some strong drinks,” he says as he takes another swig from his drink. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Hughie quietly exclaims under his breath. Cosby has been the subject of numerous sexual assault allegations, having been accused by over 60 women of rape, drug-facilitated sexual assault, sexual battery, child sexual abuse and sexual harassment. The question was, is he going to tell this to Ben, or Vi? 

“But seriously,” Ben continues, getting up from the bed, “what passes as a man today? Christ on a cross,” he murmurs to himself, pouring another cup of whiskey for himself. 

He looks back to Vi, raising the whiskey’s glass a bit, a gesture of his for asking her if she wanted a cup. She just shook her head sideways slowly, refusing it. The good thing was that because of the V, their body was more immune to the effects of alcohol, and in some cases, drugs. Or at least they couldn’t die because of an overdose. But Vi held that story for a different time.

“I read that we were ass up in Afghanistan. The fuck is up with that? Those were the good guys. I mean, when I left, it was uh,”

“Yeah, you know,” Hughie interrupts him, a worried glance at the Geiger counter, the numbers on it slowly going upwards. 

“I mean, goddamn it, we were ten and one, you know?” He says, his tone now turning into something less peaceful. Now, even Vi was on higher alert. “I lead the 116th onto Omaha Beach. I was in the fucking Eagle’s nest! I fought for this country!”

The Geiger counter started to pick up a faster pace. Vi stands up, stepping to Ben. She placed her hand on his shoulder. She wasn’t leaning on him, she just… rested her hand on top of his shoulder. 

“I fought for this country,” Ben repeats, now in a whisper-like tone, more like to himself. “And what did I get for it? Forgotten,” he says as he takes a swig from his drink. Now, if it was made by his dear Bill Cosby, it would’ve been spiked. But Vi decided to leave that for another conversation. “Left to rot by my own team. Not by you, though. You’re great Vi,” he adds, nodding as he speaks, his eyes on Vi. It was actually just him who referred to her as Vi. For the public, it was Ghost. For Payback, it was either Vivienne or Vienne. Only to Ben was Vi. Reserved for him. 

“Thanks. But you don’t need to add it every time you bring back Payback,” Vi spoke, a sympathetic smile on her face. 

“Oh, okay then. You’re just… I didn’t want you to think that I count you as a part of they-hated-me-Payback,” he tells her. He sits down on one of the chairs placed around the table, with Vi leaning on another one. Silence sat in, until Ben let out a chuckle. He was thinking of an old memory or plan that never happened, Vi was sure of it. She could write a whole book on Ben and his body language and its meanings. 

“Hey, um, can I ask you something?” Hughie asks, his words aimed at Ben. “What happened in Midtown?”

Ben keeps quiet, just staring intensely at the ground. 

“I don’t know,” he finally replies after a few moments of silence. 

“I mean, your team wasn’t there, so did someone do anything, or say anything-”

“I said I don’t know,” Ben retorts, repeating his words. 

“Okay, okay, yeah,” Hughie immediately replies, leaning back on the couch. Another moment of silence. More silence. Even more silence. It was almost as if there was a sign of silence. 

“I blacked out,” Ben randomly blurts out. “About ten minutes. When I came to, the damage was done. I didn’t mean to hurt those people,” he says, with the most gorgeous sad dark eyes, even if it was unintentional. “I’m not a bad guy.”

“But that won’t happen again… right?” Hughie asks, unsure. Maybe it will, maybe not. 

“Only if they got it coming,” Ben coldly replies. 

The conversation had to end then and there, because Butcher stepped through the door, splatters of blood decorating his neck. An “Oi oi” was all he said to greet the bunch. 

“You’re… bleeding,” Hughie nonchalantly states, gesturing at Butcher’s neck.

“Not mine. Got an address, We’re off to Vermont.”

Chapter Text

1984

Vi was thoughtless. She was a creative person with an endless stream of ideas, but she just ran out of them by then. She knew that this would happen eventually, because whatever was going on, the signs of it were well hidden from her. This was just another sign that it wasn’t specifically Payback behind it, they would’ve definitely left some trace. It was now almost a hundred percent Vought, but the one behind investigating that was Madelyn. So far, she hasn’t ratted her out, or at least Vought didn’t show any signs of hostility towards Vi. 

Apparently everything was going just the same on the upper levels, at least according to Madelyn. Vi was convinced that with enough time, they would find out something. It had to be Vought, and Vi hated Vought to the core. 

The door to Vi’s room creaks open. It always creaked, and will remain like that even when the room will not be hers anymore. Ben stepped through it quietly, plopping down next to Vi on the bed. 

“You uh… You missed the meeting,” he begins. Payback had a smaller conference room, where they would rarely hold meetings and discussions. Vi just didn’t attend it, she barely ever did. Once it ended with her almost blasting Crimson Countess’ hand off. That bitch better learn to behave. She didn’t care if she missed out on something, because Ben later on always visited her and gave her a quick run-down of what happened. Things that could’ve been solved within minutes, but because it was Payback, it took an hour. “We’re leaving next week. Nicaragua, they said.”

“Why the fuck are we going there?” Vi grunts. She wasn’t going forward with her investigation, but if she needs to leave the tower, then it will be up to Madelyn, and even if Madelyn does find some information while Vi’s away, then she will only get to know about it once she’s back. 

“They call it Operation Charly. Not everything’s clear yet, but we’re definitely going.”

Ben seemed to notice Vi’s more drawn-back attitude lately. There was something bothering her, that was for sure, but he couldn’t tell what exactly it was. 

“Should I bring anything?” He finally asks. He wanted to days ago, but it was never really a good time. Vi stays silent, that almost melancholic expression on her face. Lately, she’s been thinking. Not just about how Vought is trying to fuck things up while also working with her and assigning her to do their dirty work, but about the said dirty work she’s done. Murder. And now, they might have gotten word of her investigation, because she hasn’t been feeling too well lately. But of course, they aren’t just going to murder something they basically can’t.

“No,” she quietly replies. 

“Are you… okay? Just asking.”

“Between the V and the drugs, I feel like a monster sometimes. I’m no use to anyone in this tower. I’ll be dead soon anyway. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. It’d be easier if they just killed me. But I suppose they’re making a nice profit off of me. Now they’re just keeping me alive somehow.”

Ben stayed silent. What could he possibly say to this? Nothing, really. He’s never been the biggest empath. He’s never been a man of words. Instead, he just places his hand on Vi’s shoulder, his eyes on the ground. Sometimes, he did feel like Vought was using him. Vi wasn’t wrong there. 

“We’re just puppets, controlled by Vought,” he said feebly. “But we’ll pull through Nicaragua. Then, you could plan your leave.”

Now, it wasn’t just about Ben. Not anymore. What started with Ben was now on Vi, because despite fighting against it, she started to feel different. They were sending both her and Ben to Nicaragua like this, and now Vi was starting to think that this was all going according to someone’s plan. 

After Ben left the room, she did too. Vi sped through the halls, eyes searching for some private place. Her room had a camera, she wasn’t free from watchful eyes there. She walked as quickly as she could, finally coming across a storage room. She burst in, and to her luck, nobody was inside. This was a tiny room, just two shelves and some mops leaning against the wall. She made sure to lock the door, even thinking about barricading it. Now, she was starting to think that she was getting too paranoid. That she was overthinking. 

The clock on the storage room’s wall kept ticking. This was the only thing breaking the silence in the room while Vi rummaged around in her pouch. She put up a good fight with Vought to let her have that with her suit. They required both her and Ben to change the design of their suits when they joined Payback, ridding Ben of his long coat that was once part of his suit. 

Her fingers finally landed on what she had searched for. She pulls out a needle, a bandana and a tiny container. She wrapped the bandana tightly around one of her arms, using it as a personal tourniquet. She shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. She considered the option that she was crazy. But I might be able to help both Ben and myself out with this. With a swift move, she pierced the needle into herself, drawing as much blood as the needle could take. 

She ran through the halls in search of one person: Madelyn Stillwell. The tiny container was hidden in her clutch, her expression distraught. This plan was somewhat of a last resort that she came up with a day prior, but this Operation Charly that Ben just announced was definitely something more. Still, she had to go, the same applying for Ben. Neither of them were in the best shape. For Ben, it was his uprising aggression towards others, and for Vi, it was the weakening of her powers. Lately, she’s been having trouble phasing through things. She still could, it just took her about twice the strength. 

There she was, walking down the hall. Vi runs up to her, grabbing Madelyn by the shoulder. This immediately caught the woman’s attention, who just stared at Vi, wide-eyed. 

“This is a secret. Take it to the lab, get it checked,” she blurts out, placing the tiny container into Madelyn’s hand. “Don’t let the higher-ups know. If you find some recent blood samples from Soldier Boy, get that checked too.”

Madelyn was puzzled by the sudden instructions. She wanted to ask questions, but Vi left just as quickly as she arrived. 

2022

Off to Vermont, Butcher said, before shooting himself up with Temp V again. So did Hughie, the same Hughie who, back in Russia, said that it was a one-time thing. This was the third strike. The two stood near the window, injecting themselves with the green liquid. 

Ben was in the bathroom, donning into his freshly washed dark green suit. When he came out, the sight of the two men injecting themselves greeted him, with Vi sitting at the table. Ben trots over to her, leaning forward on one of the chairs. 

“You don’t change into your suit?” He asks. It would’ve been the logical choice, but she was still in jeans and that shirt, her huge leather jacket hanging on her chair. 

“I uh… I haven’t worn it in years,” she begins. “I ditched it.”

“Why? It looked good,” Ben sympathetically replies. The suit didn’t change anything in Vi’s abilities. Neither did Ben’s, but fighting in that instead of the jersey Vi found for him was arguably cooler. 

“I just stepped back from being a supe. Or at least officially. I still try to help out sometimes, but without my powers and that suit,” Vi explains, receiving a hum from Ben as a response.

“It’d be fucking cool to see it again. Just saying,” he raises a brow as he picks up his shield, securing it to his forearm. Vi associated that suit with her time at Vought. She kept it even after what she called her “retirement”, it was still in her apartment. She held onto it out of nostalgia. She kept so many things from her past just because of the memories they held. 

“Okay cunts,” Butcher begins, putting his lengthy coat over his shoulder, “It’s about 8 AM, we’ll get to Vermont by car, so get ready for a fun, family-friendly road trip. We’ll be there by around 2 PM. The shield goes in the trunk, before you gouge someone’s eye out with it,” he orders, gesturing towards Ben’s shield. 

Butcher was right, it really was a road trip. 

“So uh, you found out what the thing you did back in Russia was?” Hughie meekly asks, his question aimed at Vi as he looks over his shoulder. 

“Why, what’d you do in Russia?” Ben curiously asks. He was clueless about everything. 

“I uh, shot through the roof,” Vi answers, “no idea how. I had to think it through, but no answers.”

“You’re in luck Ghostie,” Butcher cuts in, “We’ve got an expert for that on our team. He’s just in the hospital, momentarily. He’s a professional in figuring out how to weaken or kill supes, he’ll get to the bottom of this, too.”

“Butcher’s right,” Hughie advocates, “I was there once. Covered in blood and guts.”

“Yeah, because you detonated it!”

“You were the one that stuck it up his ass in the first place!”

No need to say that Ben was speechless.

“Wait, you guys stuck explosives up into somebody’s asshole?” He questions with raised brows.

“He had diamond skin and was invisible, so yeah. It worked though,” Hughie replies, the image still burnt into his eyelids. His first kill. 

Vermont. The TNT Twins. Nowadays, they were easy prey, the twins now reduced to druggies and alcoholics. 

The group stood behind a line of trees and bushes not too far away from the house. In Ben’s hands was a pair of binoculars, the man scouting the area. Vi’s never been to this house, she had no idea the twins even had one. Upon a whole minute of inspection, she noticed a tiny, but life-changing detail. 

“Hand me the binocular,” she quietly orders, holding out her hand, while her eyes remained fixed on the building. Ben, with his casually judgemental expression, places it into her hand after a few seconds of contemplation. Looking through the binoculars, Vi exhaled sharply. The plan was that she would go ahead and look around inside the house without anybody noticing her to prevent casualties, but it had to be changed this instant. Now the only way to get in was the front door, and going in through there unnoticed would’ve been impossible. 

“I can’t get in,” she quietly states, handing back the binoculars. Hughie’s eyes widen a bit, shooting a worried glance at Butcher. 

“Wha… I thought you can go through anything,” he speaks, some disbelief in his voice. 

“See those walls? They’re made from halite. Or rock salt, however you wanna call it. That, I can’t phase through,” she explains. gesturing towards the house. 

“So the twins are either geniuses who don’t want you around their house, or just too lucky,” Butcher sighs. 

“Knowing the twins, it’s their luck. They weren’t famous for their smarts,” Vi comments. Halite, out of all things. Get brick walls or those paper-thin ones, assholes.

“I thought you could go through anything,” Hughie speaks up.

“Yeah, anything besides salt.”

“Really? Salt, out of all things?”

“Makes sense,” Ben interferes, “I mean, your name’s Ghost. Salt keeps ghosts and demons away.”

Vi’s eyes widened a bit, her head tilted a slight degree forward while her eyes were on Ben, mutely questioning his seemingly extensive knowledge on this very specific topic. Ben just keeps his smile at her, proud to bring some knowledge to the group. He was usually the hitman and brawns, so it did boost his confidence. Vi, now realizing that it’s better to just leave it as it is, smiles back at him before straightening up.

“Oh, okay, so this is an actual orgy,” Hughie says, changing the topic. “That’s what this is.”

“Fucking Herogasm,” Butcher mutters to himself. “Still a thing, eh?”

“It’s my thing,” Ben cuts in, childish upset in his voice, snatching the binoculars from Butcher, “I founded it in ‘52. Me and this other supe, Liberty. Man, was she a firecracker!”

Yes, Ben definitely missed out on a lot of things. One of these things was seemingly the now-dead Stormfront. Or Liberty, whatever. Despite Vi’s attempts to convince Ben that Herogasm is NOT a good idea, it became a full-blown yearly event. Oh well, let him have his fun, Vi thought. 

“Frenchie’s gonna be heartbroken he missed this,” Butcher sighs as he looks over to Hughie.

“There are a lot of people in there,” Hughie calmly states to Ben, hoping that he will realize why exactly Hughie’s mentioning it. 

“Well, as long as they stay out of my way, they’ll be fine.”

“All right, just uh, give me three minutes. I’ll jump in, I’ll jump back out, I’ll tell you exactly where to find the twins,” Hughie volunteers. “I mean, if Vivienne can’t go inside.”

“Who exactly are we talking about?” Butcher breaks his silence. “Oh, so now you’re getting personal over here with Ghostie? Okay then Vi.”

“It’s Vivienne,” she replies, a deepfake smile on her face. Ben just smirked to himself. Vi never stopped him from calling her Vi. It looked like the others didn’t have such honors. Ben hums, deep in thought, before speaking up.

“Three minutes,” he agrees. Hughie runs for a few steps before evaporating into thin air, leaving only his clothes behind. Well, he’ll fit right in with the others this way.

Chapter Text

Time just passed by. Vi was counting every second in her mind, and the three minute mark was approaching at an insane speed. If that happens, then there will be no stopping Ben, he will just march inside carelessly. Yes, that does sound a lot like him. Hughie should’ve been back by now, and Vi was growing more worried with each second. Herogasm was not for the weak, and even with the amount of shit Hughie’s been through so far, who knows what he might have gotten caught in. Bunch of creeps and perverts with shit superpowers. Not even something useful or cool. It was possible that one of these people was getting freaky with Hughie right then and there, maybe against Hughie’s will. Vi barely knew Hughie, days at best, but one thing was sure about him: he wasn’t going to put his own sexual desires above saving people. 

She was supposed to be the one going inside to scout out the house, but her showing up would’ve raised suspicion. Firstly, because she was repulsed by the idea of Herogasm. Second, because the twins were afraid of her. At least after Nicaragua, and what Vi did in Nicaragua after finding out that Payback let Ben go. Thinking more about it, maybe the fact that the walls were halite on purpose started to make more sense. The question was, how did the twins get wind of her only weakness. She could still phase through the door or windows and kill them in their sleep. The TNT Twin’s luck so far was that Vi wasn’t one to murder out of revenge. Ben, on the other hand… 

Ben attached his shield to his glove, heading towards the front door with quick steps. Vi sharply inhaled as she ran after him before any damage could be done. The person standing by the door didn’t even take a second to let Soldier Boy through, and Vi barely managed to slip in right before the door was closed yet again. 

Inside was a mess. Supes fucking everywhere. No matter where you looked, there was at least one threesome. Shit, now wonder Hughie hasn’t returned yet, this place is a maze. Ben entered barely a few seconds before Vi, but he was already lost in the midst of the mass of people, away from Vi’s watchful eyes. The mix of smoke, weed and other bodily fluids was strong in the air. Ben was nowhere to be seen. 

Vi took a deep breath, her eyes shut tight. She just lost sight of Ben, and there was a chance that by the next time she sees him, half the people present will be dead. But panicking in one spot never saved anyone, and Vi was aware of that. Reopening her eyes, she felt somebody brush past her. It was Butcher with his long coat, even in this warm weather. He watched Vi from the side of his eye, and Vi noticed that there was almost a hint of worry in his eyes. No, William Butcher doesn’t worry about jack shit. If he doesn’t, why should I? Vi continued her way through the house, her steps quickening with every moment. Butcher was already gone from her sight. Now her objective was to find the TNT Twins, wherever they might be. 

Took Vi a few seconds to find out where the twins were. As soon as their annoying banter’s sound hit her ears, she changed course and headed the way of the sound. This means Ben hasn’t found them yet. Somewhat comforting, yet scary, because Vi knew that these would be their last moments. Running through the orange-lit rooms and avoiding eye contact, she arrived in what seemed like a living room. And in the middle of it was Ben. His chest was starting to glow with that white-yellow hue yet again. Shit. 

“EVERYBODY GET OUT!” Vi orders, shouting from her lungs, waving her hands around as she tries to usher the guests outside. 

The loud sound of the emitted beam shakes the house to its core, the walls of the living room collapsing with a crackling sound. Vi couldn’t get everybody outside, and in that moment, there wasn’t much she could do about it, with Ben slowly twisting around in agony, the beam from his chest switching direction with him. It didn’t even take a moment for Vi to rush over to him, trying to stay out of the beam’s way. If she got hit with it, even by accident, then that’s that. She was now behind Ben, and with a swift move, moved her elbow around his neck, making sure to lock him in a chokehold-like state. She threw herself back, landing on the floor with Ben moving simultaneously with her, bones snapping, both of them on the floor, with Ben’s back pressed against Vi’s chest. Both of them were screaming in pain, but with the beam now aimed at the ceiling, shooting through the roof. Ben didn’t really seem to run out of energy, and even with the beam redirected somewhere with no people around, it was hard to keep him in place. He had his weight, and Vi was lacking the same amount of superhuman strength. It was as if he was stuck in a weird trance. He just had to be broken out of it. With not many choices left, the tip of Vi’s index finger phases into the shoulder of Ben, not deeply, but just enough to cause him some kind of outer pain to snap him out of his frenzy. 

“Ben, it’s me,” she says, leaning a bit closer to his ears in hopes of Ben actually hearing some of what she said over the sound of the beam, people screaming and the building partly collapsing. She could just hope, and hope wasn’t the most stable thing. She felt as if she was being crushed by something, with Ben on top of her, but she couldn’t reposition him now, or else the beam would yet again go in the direction of the civilians, if you could call them that. 

Ben was out of his mind. He always was, every time his PTSD hit. This time was no different, with him having no recollection of what happened when he woke up. He placed his palms on the ground, pushing himself upwards, onto his knees. With heavy breaths, he took a look around him. Destruction everywhere his eyes landed, some stains of blood, and a missing roof above his head. With much of the adrenaline gone from his body, he was able to feel a stinging feeling on one of his shoulders. Strange, he thought, because even though he was able to feel pain, he usually didn’t. His fingers find the wounded spot, brushing over it. He could feel the hints of slimy blood, originating from a tiny hole, not bigger than a pistol’s shot wound. He was alone in the room, except for the few corpses around him. 

Vi could barely move, she had to drag herself through the hallways, all the way to where the front door was. An unpleasant sight greeted her upon arriving near the front. Even with her attempt, there were casualties, blood dripping from the stairs, wounded supes in the front yard. Without any words, she leaned against a wall, clutching her stomach with one of her hands. She didn't need to be a doctor to tell that something inside her was definitely broken. Even if she was a nurse. A few ribs, probably. Hopefully not the spine. She just slided downwards, right into a sitting-like position, slumped against the doorway. I’m not a bad guy, Ben’s words echoed in her mind. Maybe he wasn’t, maybe it was his PTSD, but he was still responsible for the death of many. MM’s family was amongst the aforementioned many. That was why he was practically hunting Ben at this point, relentlessly, with whatever necessary. Annie was with him, absolutely giving up on Hughie. Vi was convinced that the two of them were around somewhere. Her vision was blurry, but one thing caught her eye: a man in the sky. The man in the sky. 

“Vi, you okay? Shit, what happened?” Ben interrupted her thoughts, immediately kneeling down to her level. Vi’s eyes were still fixed on the figure approaching from above. 

“He’s here,” she whispers to Ben. This was all she could muster up at that moment. “Homelander.”

Ben shot her a slightly wide-eyed look, the sound of a swooshing sound above them hitting his ears. He looked back at Vi, with a look on his face that was almost as if he was asking her for some permission to go after Homelander. Ben knew that it just took a word from her, and he would stay there next to her. But the deal with Butcher was still a deal with Butcher, and Vi was aware of it. It wouldn’t do them much good if Ben stayed anyway. She just nods reassuringly. Did it mean she was going to be fine? Did it mean that Ben should go to Homelander? Both meant that she could be left alone for some moments. With a hum, Ben stands back up, making his way back inside with quick steps.

Vi glances over her shoulder, just watching as Ben marches back into the house. If anybody had a chance against Homelander, it was Ben. Vi wanted to join in on beating that walking american flag so badly, but she knew her limits and condition. This was not the right time for this. The single calming thing was that she still had her powers, despite being so close to Ben when it all went down. Probably because she wasn’t directly hit, just close by. She could spot MM and Annie nearby, walking from supe to supe, with MM doing a quick medical checkup on everyone he could find. Despite going in different ways, they were doing the right thing, too. Or more like they were the only ones doing the ethical thing. What Butcher and Ben were doing was closer to murder. But they had to get rid of Homelander, because despite not being able to meet him from up close, Vi was aware of the things he’s done. And he will continue to do so if nobody does anything about it. 

The sounds from inside were not exactly encouraging. It was far from that. Grunts, punches, and everything in between. She wanted to help out. Ben was struggling inside, and Vi couldn’t help him out. She couldn’t move, to start with. If she did try to go against Homelander like this, she would be more of an obstacle in Ben’s way than help. It didn’t use to be like this. Now, it’s been so long that she forgot to use parts of her power. For example, phasing through objects with someone else. She used to be able to share her ability with another person if she had physical contact with them. She used to be able to lead Ben through walls, and now, she just couldn’t use it anymore. But now there was the mysterious flying-like ability. Butcher’s teammate apparently had an explanation, but she just couldn’t meet him yet. 

“Hey,” MM greets her solemnly. Vi’s eyes shift to the man next to her, a piece of medical equipment in his hand. 

“We fucked this up,” Vi states quietly. There was no point in masking the truth. “I’m getting fucking tired.”

MM nods melancholically, inspecting Vi’s wounds. There wasn’t much external sign, except for a few scars and bruises. Butcher never straight up admitted his failures, it was refreshing for MM to hear these words from someone. 

“So what’d you do? You could’ve phased through this, no?” He asks quietly, gently forcing Vi’s eyes to be kept open whilst he raises the light in his hand. 

“I tried to hold down Soldier Boy. This was what it cost me. And probably a few ribs too,” she sighs. Ben was seemingly unaware that he was the reason for all of this. 

“You know, it’s not too late. You can come with me and Annie if you want to,” MM offered tenderly. He was obviously stressed, but he knew that he had to keep it cool in this situation. 

Vi considered all her options. MM and Annie were doing the right thing, the thing that she wanted to do all her life. To actually help. Meanwhile, Butcher and Ben were just after Homelander and Payback, respectively. What they did was more personal. She had to face the choice. Defeating Homelander, or helping people. 

“Hey MM,” she quietly begins, “you got some duplicate equipment?” She asks, motioning towards the tiny light in MM’s hand as an example. He shoots her a quick and confused look, then glances down at the light in his hand. 

“You know your way around medical things?” He gently asks, with a hint of hope in his voice. Vi just nods in agreement. She had a job before the V, didn’t she? 

“I do. I can go and take a look around.”

MM was somewhat unsure about this. Vought’s supes weren’t the most skilled ones outside of being plastic dolls for Vought to play with. Still, there was something sincere about how Vi said it, and looking around, it would’ve been helpful to have somebody else on the scene too. With a sigh, he pulls out another light rod from his pocket, handing it over to Vi. 

With a weak and faint smile, Vi takes it. For a few seconds, she just stares down at the equipment in her palm, a faint reminder of what her past used to be like. In moments like these, she realized that the Compound V brought so many changes to her life. She could’ve had a peaceful life in Philadelphia as a nurse. But then again, Ben would’ve still applied to be in the army, and he would’ve probably died on the battlefield, just for his father’s nonexistent approval that still hasn’t been earned, and never will be, considering that John Monroe was dead by now. 

With a hiss, she straightens up, back on her feet yet again. She always was, for some reason. It was like she wasn't able to die. Things happened after Ben was taken to Russia. Things in her own private little house. Some self-destruction, or at least an attempt at that. Some self-discovery regarding her abilities. This was how she found out that she can’t die due to overdose of alcohol or drugs. The V in her bloodstream dulled it and purged it from her system, at least to a level where it wasn’t deadly anymore. It was very likely that Ben's body worked in a similar way, because around the time of the war he consumed an inhuman amount of drugs, enough to kill at least two people, yet he was alive and well afterwards. Vi saw these as experiments rather than suicide. She tried to figure out what could possibly kill her after realizing that she hadn't really encountered anything that could seriously harm her. Except when she was on her last few days with Vought… First she tried the obvious, a simple pistol. Here, her body just simply changed density at the sound of the shot, and the bullet went through her and into the wall. She later covered this with a picture she had painted, the hole was still there on the wall. After that, she approached the experiment from a different angle, first trying to knock herself out with alcohol and then with drugs. None of these worked. Her own body sabotaged it, changing density each time or removing alcohol and drugs from her system.

Vi took a round, a quick glance and medical checkup at a few people before Ben ran towards her, his breathing heavy. 

“Hey,” he begins, placing his hand on Vi’s shoulder. Vi glanced over her shoulder, a rugged Ben in her view. “We gotta get out of here.”
“What happened? Is he gone?” She asks, standing up from her kneeling position. I hope so.
“He escaped at the last minute. C’mon, cops are going to show up,” he grunts, placing Vi’s hand over his shoulder for support. It was sort of beyond him how she could’ve gotten injured. “So uh, what got you like this?”

“Long story. But I’ll be fine.”

“You aren’t able to get injured, that’s the point of your power. But you are, which is pretty fucking suspicious and alerting. I want to know the truth,” he demanded calmly. The two were walking towards Butcher and Hughie, the latter standing there naked.

“You don’t have any recollection of what happens before you black out. The same happened in Midtown. I tried to hold you back this time, broke a few ribs in the process,” she explains. She had no idea how Ben would react to it. 

“So… It’s because of me?” He sounded quietly, a hint of regret in his voice.

“My stupidity, really. Don’t fret it,” she tries to soothe him a bit. It wasn’t exactly Ben’s fault, it was her own idea to plunge to the ground.

But she was still alive. Maybe because somewhere she was deeply afraid of death, of the thought that everything would end like this, and that she would throw away any chance that would allow her to meet Ben again. Somewhere deep down she hoped, she felt that this was not the end, that Ben would return one day. And he came back.

Chapter Text

The ride was awkward, to say the best. Hughie was naked as a newborn, Butcher just got his ass beaten, Vi, for the first time since getting the V, required medical attention, and Ben was gnawing at his guilt. It was quiet, but not the peaceful kind. The stress was in the air, and there wasn’t any sound, except the sound of skin sticking to leather whenever Hughie tried to reposition himself in his seat. This went on for almost six hours, ever since they left Vermont. And now, to Vi’s dismay, they were heading back to The Legend, because according to Butcher, that was the safest place they could be after what had happened at the 70th Annual Herogasm. 

Vi refused to pick a side. She considered herself a neutral, not fully on Butcher and Ben’s team, but then again, not fully on MM and Annie’s side. Homelander had to be killed, but if she can help people out, then she’s not going to refuse. The light MM gave to her was still with her, in the pocket of her coat. Vi didn’t get a chance to return it to MM, but she had a feeling that this won’t be the last time they will see each other. 

The outskirt of New York, a reclusive house, inhabited by Vi’s arch-nemesis. Above it all, this was going to be their new residence, at least for the next few days, even if Vi was against it. The Legend was enamored by Ben, so when he stood at his doorstep, even with Butcher and Vi behind him and Ben basically forcing himself inside, he had no choice but to let them in. 

Vi stayed on the upper level of the house, far from the cozy basement currently occupied by Ben. It was best if she just stayed out of that room. The thing was, she wasn’t alone on the ground floor. The Legend was lurking somewhere too. This was decorated similarly to his apartment room, or what he just called “The Office”. This house either had less memorabilia, or it was just scattered around better, making it only look like there was less of it. 

She was having a personal stare-off with a poster for a Payback movie hanging above a fireplace. This was the one she somehow agreed to after being pestered by Ben for a week straight every day. It was trash, Vi couldn’t disagree with that, and it probably didn’t age too well either. The Legend plopped down onto an armchair in the same room, putting on an old footage of Ben singing. He didn’t give a fuck that Vi was in the same room, he just acted like she wasn’t there, as if she was a ghost, just as her name suggests. It was crazy how the tension between the two was still brewing, the hatred mostly originating from Vi. 

“I can’t believe I actually produced this piece of shit,” he mutters to himself, and not even a second later, Hughie enters. 

“What are you watching?” He questions, his eyes focused on the small TV in the room.

“Old mistakes,” The Legend sighs, not taking his eyes off the TV, then picking up the remote and shutting the television off. “Between you and me,” he continues, his words aimed at Hughie, “Soldier Boy did to singing what pantyhose did to finger-fucking.”

Hughie just nods along, an uninterested yeah escaping him. 

“What’d he want?” The Legend says. Hughie was on watch at that moment, with Butcher momentarily gone from the building, trying to find some lead on Payback. Asking Vivienne was his first plan, but Vi sincerely had no idea where Payback could be, but the only one she knew about was the already eliminated Crimson Cuntess.

“Um, well,” Hughie begins, his tongue faltering as he tries to find the right words, “he wanted me to tell you that you’re out of Astroglide.”

“Jesus Christ,” Vi mutters to herself under her breath. Ben was a strong player, but she did not want to imagine what could possibly be going on below her. 

“You know,” The Legend continues, “I would say you fucks are overstaying your welcome, but what welcome?”

“I thought Soldier Boy was your friend,” Hughie speaks, staring at The Legend with a confused look. The Legend was never Ben’s friend, Vi thought. Especially not after Ben found out that The Legend wore his suit. 

“Why, 'cause he forced his way into my home? Listen to me kid, I don’t make friends with talent. They’re all the same,” he sighs, taking a swig from his whiskey. Oh, how deeply rooted Vi’s hatred is for this man.

The door opens with a click, William Butcher and his long coat stepping through it, sunglasses over his eyes to freshen up the outfit. The trio in the living room caught his eye. 

“There you are,” Butcher exclaims, swinging down his sunglasses. “Oh, fuck me. Is he still at it?” He annoyedly asks with wide eyes. 

“I mean, superhuman stamina is part of his ability,” Vi comments, now turning towards the others after a lengthy inspection of the Payback poster. Butcher just shut his eyes and sighed deeply in response. 

Hughie and Vi trotted down the stairs next to each other, with Butcher and The Legend not far behind them. 

“So uh, what’s between you two? I mean The Legend and you,” Hughie tries to start a conversation. “He seems fair enough.”

“Ancient bad blood, I suppose. This guy’s everything but not fair,” she inhales, “mistreating people, and getting rich off of exploitation. Trust me, I’m speaking from experience here.”

Maybe all four of them coming down to the basement wasn’t such a good idea after all, the sight of Ben getting it on with two elderly women greeting them as soon as they arrive, their moans hitting their ears. Shit, no wonder Vought tried to put him and Countess’ raisin ass together. 

“You got a minute?” Butcher speaks up, interrupting the troubling scene in front of them. THe two women wince at the sudden sound, pulling their clothes closer to themselves. 

“Oh, good. Lube, huh?” Ben exclaims happily. “C’mon, I can’t go in raw.”

“Please don’t make eye contact,” Hughie blurts out, speaking in the name of basically everybody else in the room. Vi just tried to look everywhere but at the bed instead. 

“Hughie listen, these women are like fine wine, the older they get, the more delicious but the drier.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think we wanted to know that,” Vi tries to force a reassuring smile onto her face as she speaks, genuinely disgusted by the view.

“Mary, Lucille,” The Legend enters the conversation, finally arriving at the scene. “C’mon, chop-chop, break time’s over. That shag’s not gonna vacuum itself, come on!”

Butcher sighs in what seemed like annoyance, maybe spiced with a hint of disappointment.

“Okay, what’s the problem,” Ben theatrically begins, picking up a joint from the cupboard next to the bed. 

“What’s the problem?! First of all, I can never fire those girls now, thank you,” The Legend bursts out, clearly fed up with Ben and his desires, to say the least. Everybody in the room - except Ben himself - had enough of this at this point. The Legend went on to ramble about his sexual escapades yet again, and yes, you guessed it right, nobody was interested in it. “You’re treating it like a Reno cathouse.”

“Jesus,” Ben mutters to himself, placing the blunt to his lips.

“The problem,” Butcher cuts in, “is you gave me 11 of Mindstorm’s last-knowns. So far, I’ve had a look at three and found fuck all. I’m chasing me fucking tail here, mate.”

“Sounds like that’s three down and eight to go,” Ben proudly smirks. 

“That could take weeks,” Vi joins the conversation, with The Legend continuously speaking in the background. These two didn’t have an ounce of respect for each other. “I don’t think we’ve got that. Trying to hide you from everyone and everything is a task in itself, but checking out all these locations might be harder. It’s been two days, and Butcher’s only checked the ones nearby. There are shacks even in California and Montana.”

“The deal was, we get the rest of my team, then we get Homelander,” Ben confidently states as a gentle reminder.

“And what we’re saying is I could use a hand figuring out. You too, Ghostie,” Butcher retorts.

“I told you. Mindstorm’s a paranoid fuck,” Ben repeats himself, rising up from the bed. “But hell, if you could hear everybody’s shitty thoughts, you’d be, too.”

“He bought up all these shacks and cabins all over the place, some are pretty fucking isolated, this is exactly why,” Vi adds. This was the minimal info she had on Mindstorm. 

“He’s Howard Hughes without the piss jars. He’s batshit crazy,” Ben continues, taking another quick whiff of the blunt. 

“Mindstorm’s not crazy. He’s bipolar,” The Legend cuts in, the bedsheet in his embrace. Hughie asks back in confirmation, The Legend nodding along in response. 

“Does he take meds for it?” Hughie questions. Vi had the feeling that he was going somewhere with this. 

“I believe so. Or at least he did,” The Legend grumbles as he walks past between Butcher and Hughie. 

“Lithium prescriptions aren’t that common,” Hughie thinks out loud. “I mean, I doubt he’s making it. Maybe i-if we look at the cabins and we-”

“And then check the local pharmacies,” Butcher cuts him off mid-sentence, finishing it for him.

“See who’s handing out lithium,” Vi joins in. 

“Nice one, Hughie,” Butcher joyfully scoffs to himself, patting Hughie’s shoulder. 

The group makes its way up the stairs, with Ben staying downstairs to change into his suit, now determined to tag along with them.

“Okay, so Hughie’s going to stay in the car, Ben and I go in, get Mindstorm, and we’ll be back,” Vi thinks out loud, outlining and negotiating the plan with Butcher. The two were a few steps behind Hughie.

“No. Hughie’s going in,” Butcher corrects her immediately.

“He shouldn’t. Neither should you. You might be physically strong, but that isn’t going to help you out if you’re up against Mindstorm. He gets into your head, and it’s over. He’s not going to undo it just because. It’s the best for the both of you.”

“Well, well, well, would you look at that! It’s almost as if Ghostie cares for others too!” Butcher happily exclaims. Vi wanted to bash his head in. Almost as if?

“I always did. At least I didn’t kill others just for personal revenge, did I, William Butcher?” She furiously breathes out. “I did what I could to help others, even before the V. Hell, I helped more people before getting the V than after getting it injected into my veins. I’ve seen so much shit that your mind would give up if you saw half of it. World War ll, fucking Vietnam, and everything inbetween. I never had people to care about me, and after a while, I just outlived everybody that I liked even in the slightest! And now, one person is back, and now my situation isn’t as bad. For the first time in a while, I feel like I have some people to care about. Hughie’s one of them, for your information. Mindstorm isn’t just going to let him or you go, and there’s no way you could block him out. So I would like the two of you to stay away from Mindstorm.”

“You aren’t going to harm either of us. You aren’t going to stop us. Because you believe in free will,” Butcher retorts after a few moments of silence. 

“You just don’t care for your team’s wellbeing! Sending them on missions nobody should go and you don’t even care if they make it out alive? Very nice of you, Butcher. I wouldn’t be surprised if your team had enough of you and the same happened to you as Soldier Boy,” Vi states before storming off, up the stairs. She wasn’t going to force them to stay away. Especially knowing that Hughie can teleport. If he tried to teleport right to Mindstorm without anybody else to help him, it could be the end for him. If Butcher and Hughie are so insistent on tagging along, let them. 

Chapter Text

1984, Nicaragua

The music was blasting from outside, and Vi was convinced that this will become the end of them once the enemy opens their ears and hears the music from miles away. Payback was just a bunch of idiots grouped into one place, but this time, in an army base. In Grace Mallory’s army base. Seemingly, she liked Payback just as much as Vi. In other words, they shared a hatred for these people. They didn’t converse much, but when they did, there was some kind of understanding between the two of them, with Vi being an apology card from the side of Payback as an effort to make up for the bullshit the team commits.

Vi didn’t want to have anything to do with them, silently sketching away, far from them. Ben trots up to her, with luckily Crimson Cuntess finally not a step behind him. Lately, she’s been too coaxing to Ben, following him around everywhere, maybe a little too caught up in Vought’s “boyfriend-girlfriend”  popularity campaign. 

“Hey there,” Ben joyfully exclaims, a smile on his face. 

“You seem happy despite being on a mission. What is it?” She plainly asks. 

“Can’t a man be happy? C’mon, come with us, we’re about to drink. The party’s just getting started,” Ben tries to encourage her, with little to no avail. 

“Like I said, this is a mission you’re on. Putting on music and getting sleazy will only attract the enemy. Think a bit more next time,” she states, fixing her eyes back at the sketchbook. 

“Don’t be so serious,” he scoffs playfully.

“I’m just cautious, Ben. You can drink as much as you want once we get back to New York.”

“Ruining the mood, aren’t you,” he sighs. “I’m just trying to cheer you up. You’ve been so distant from everybody lately.”

“Because,” she begins, her tone slightly more agitated than before, “there is something going on. For over two months now, maybe three. With Vought. And you’re dismissive about it, which doesn’t bother me, the thing that does bother me, is that as if this isn’t enough, this whole party you’re throwing is stupid and only attracts attention. You’re just a tall child, Ben.”

Ben did not say anything in reply, he couldn’t. For one, he had no idea what to say. Second, right after Vi uttered these words, a loud bang shook the camp. The two share a wide eyed look, eyes scanning the area for any type of attack launched on them.

“Let’s go,” Ben firmly says.

“Let’s fucking go,” Vi replies, the two running off into the midst of the fight. 

Just as Vi predicted, the noise and stupidity quickly attracted the enemy, right to their doorstep. The rest of Payback was already deep in the action, and by that, I mean that they were all huddled behind a mounted gun operated by Gunpowder. If it wasn’t for Vi’s ability, she would’ve been shot dead the second she arrived. It was as if Gunpowder wasn’t even aiming, sitting behind the weapon out of his mind. He was aiming at Mallory’s men, even though there were no enemies around at that moment. He's causing more casualties than the enemy ever will! Vi storms up to the mounted gun, simply hauling him down with one swift move.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” She screams at him, the rest of Payback watching the scene. “Those people were with us!”

“They were in the way, and-”

“No! Get the fuck out of here if you’re just being an obstacle! The rest of you,” she says, now turning towards the other Payback members, fury in her eyes, “get out there, and do something for once!”

The others share a shocked look between each other as Vi throws Gunpowder to the ground, the boy landing in the dust with a thud. 

“Nobody fucking touches that,” she continues, pointing at the momentarily unoccupied mounted gun, “except Mallory’s men. You have zero authorization, and if somebody does go there, I’ll make sure that they never go anywhere again in the rest of their lives.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Countess retorts, murmuring to herself under her breath. Vi wanted to argue back, the sound reaching her ears, but they had more important business at that moment. Vi storms off, leaving the team to do as they wish. Just when she thought they couldn’t be more stupid, they did something that destroyed that belief. They were unreliable.

Blood dripped from her hands, the corpses of the enemy littering the area around her. The rest of Payback didn’t help out. She lost sight of everyone. She stood alone, the sole of her boot in a puddle of blood. From the corner of her eye, she could spot an injured Grace Mallory. With quick steps, Vi walks over to the injured woman, placing Grace’s arm over her shoulder. There was a tent with some medical equipment inside, and VI herself was able to do a quick medical checkup for Grace.

Upon arriving near the tent, the sight of bloodied Payback members greeted the two women. Everybody was there, except Ben himself. He should’ve been around, he should’ve been close. Crimson Countess comes running towards the two, a panicked look painted over her face. 

“Oh God,” she exclaims, standing just a few inches away from Vi’s face. “They killed Soldier Boy!”

Vi’s face dropped immediately. They couldn’t. There isn’t anything that can kill him. 

“What? Who?” Grace asks plainly, removing her hand from Vi’s shoulder. She wasn’t in the middle of a deadly injury, unlike everybody else. 

“The russians! They had some kind of gun or a weapon, or something,” she cries desperately. That couldn’t be, she had to be lying.

“That’s impossible,” Vi finally musters up the words out loud. 

“No, we saw it! We saw it!”

“I didn’t,” Vi said irritably. There had to be a body. “Did you check for a pulse, at least?”

“They took his body!” Countess screams back, raising her hand and pointing at the chopper that just took off, maybe a mile from them. The three of them stare at the ascending chopper in unison, Ben’s body supposedly up there. 

Vi didn’t waste a second, running after the chopper in a very, very desperate attempt to get Ben back. Needless to say, all she could do was run after it, but never got to reach Ben in the sky. She sped through the bushes and trees, eyes fixed on the hastily leaving chopper. She comes to a halt as the aircraft leaves her view, now too far to reach for her. Running after a flying object was pointless in the first place. 

With mixed feelings, she arrives back at the camp. Anger, denial, fear and anxiety were just a few mentions from said mixed feelings. She storms up to where the remains - with Ben and Swatto gone - sat in a bunch. 

“Look, Vienne, we couldn’t do much,” Countess begins, playing her part well.

“Don’t Vienne me you bitch,” she retorts immediately, grabbing Countess by her long, orangish hair, and dragging her down from the box she sat on. Letting go of Countess’ hair, she begins.

“Why’d you let them take Ben?” Vi hisses out. The other Payback members just watched as the scene unfolded, unsure whether Vi knew about the fact that they were the ones responsible for Ben’s departure. 

“I swear, we didn’t. We put up a good fight,” Countess alleges, sitting in the dust with Vivienne towering above her. 

“Huh,” Vi scoffs, “fuck that. What’s the truth?”

“Gosh, you think so lowly of me?” Countess asks, looking up at Vi with an innocent stare.

“Yeah,” Vi replies, walking off. 

Her theory was confirmed. Vought really was behind all this, and despite Countess resenting the allegations, Vi was sure that Payback was just as deep in this, pulling the strings without her knowing about it. 

Chapter Text

The trunk of Butcher’s car flies open, Ben immediately reaching inside for his shield. Vi still despised the idea of Butcher and Hughie getting close to Mindstorm. Not even she could save them from that, and if Mindstorm gets to Hughie, then Vi will not wait for Ben to do the dirty work, she will tear Mindstorm’s heart out with her bare hands. But there was no stopping them now, with Mindstorm’s supposed shack two miles away.

“Okay, satellite view has Mindstorm’s place about two miles in, due west,” Hughie begins, reading the information off his phone while Ben reloads his handgun. 

“Two miles?” Butcher retorts. “Fuck me. We could’ve parked closer.”

Ben was already heading off, with Vi next to him.

“Mind giving me some?” He asks, referring to the drugs confiscated from him, presumably in Vi’s pocket. She took everything from him in terms of drugs, from the blunts to benzedrine. 

“No, Ben. Lay off this, please. Especially when going up against Mindstorm,” she sternly replies, her hand wandering into her pocket, her finger brushing over the benzedrine from days ago. 

“Give me that,” Ben breathes out as he reaches for the pills hidden deep in Vi’s pocket, sealed away from him as much as possible. Vi jerks herself back, pulling away from Ben immediately.

“No!”

“Why won’t you let me have it, huh? What happened while I was asleep that made you such a puss?! And I’m not just talking about this, I’ve tried getting other drugs but you keep standing in my way!”

“Nicaragua, Ben. That’s why. This,” she furiously says, grabbing the container and smashing it on the ground, “this is why you ended up in Russia. They knew that you could block out Mindstorm for the most part, so they fed you such an insane amount of drug mixture, that you ended up acting so impulsively and aggressively, that by the time we ended up in Nicaragua, everybody hated you! They felt no remorse in getting rid of you!”

Butcher and Hughie stood on the sidelines, the scene unfolding right in front of their eyes. Ben’s brows furrow, not a word escaping him. 

1984

Returning to the tower felt different without Ben by her side. There was no small talk in the elevator, she stood there alone, in silence. Her mind was set, she was leaving. She was aware that Vought wouldn't just let her waltz out the door. But she will leave nonetheless, that was the one thing she was sure about. She only came back to the tower with the others to, unbeknownst to them, gather her personal belongings, and to avoid some suspicion. 

For the first time, Vi’s door creaks open by her own hands. She always phased through it, never really bothering to get the handle. Now, she didn’t bother phasing through it. To her surprise, somebody was already inside, sitting on her bed.

“How the fuck did you get in here,” Vi tiredly asks, suspicion in her tone.

“You never lock your door, do you? Trust me, you’ll be glad that I’m here,” the woman who sat on the edge of Vi’s bed spoke, a smile on her face. Vi stands near the door for a few seconds, unsure about everything at that moment. 

“Why?” That was all she could manage. This better be good. Madelyn pats the spot next to her, inviting Vi closer. 

“C’mon. It’ll be worth it,” she weakly smiles, noticing Vi’s melancholic attitude. “I heard about Soldier Boy. I know.”

“What you got?” Vi sighs, sitting down on the side of the bed next to Madelyn. The woman pulls out a few papers from beside her, running it over once more with her eyes before handing them over to Vi. Vi stares down at the paper confusedly. “What the fuck does this mean?”

“Vought fed Soldier Boy amphetamines. Maybe he wasn’t aggressive by nature. Maybe Vought just didn’t really want him around anymore,” Madelyn quietly replies. Oh. Vi looks at Madelyn first, then back at the papers. It wasn’t simply a bunch of amphetamines, though that made up most of it. The paper held the information of a daily dose received by Ben in various forms. He did not agree to it, that was for sure. Madelyn continues elaborating. “They got it into his system by adding powder to his meals, that’s three times a day in the best cases. Then they called him in for a medical checkup, saying that there were complaints about him being increasingly violent. Then it came in the form of the pills. They told him that these had a calming effect and would suppress his violent tendencies. What Soldier Boy didn’t know was that these pills were the exact reason he was becoming more and more violent. This isn’t just simple amphetamine, Vought spiced it up, I don’t know how. They’re a pharmaceutical company, after all.”

Vi stared down at the papers in disbelief. Four pills a day, prescribed to Benjamin Monroe by Vought Pharmaceutical Company. Why Vought would try to get rid of him in the first place was a mystery for both Vivienne and Madelyn. 

“What the…” Vi mutters to herself under her breath, reading the documents. “How’d you get these?”

“I got a hold of them when doing the blood sample thing you asked me to do. These aren’t the original files, I printed a copy of them to not cause suspicion.”

“Nice work, I suppose,” Vi shoots her a faint smile, somewhat proud of Madelyn for bringing these papers forward. She was aware that if anybody sheds light on this investigation, Madelyn could lose her job, but she still did what Vi asked of her. 

“Thank you. On the topic of the blood samples,” Madelyn continues, pulling something out from her purse, “I went through with it. I found the problem in your blood, too.”

“So there really was something with me,” Vi thinks out loud. 

“You know how people can die of drug or alcohol overdose? You can’t, not to these things. Salt is your weakness, there are some files of it. That’s what Vought used. You can’t phase through salt, so they figured that by getting enough salt in your body, your body won’t be able to phase through anything. And you don’t have a wide range of powers like the others. I mean, Countess has the fireball generation, longevity, superhuman strength, durability and hearing, whereas you have your density manipulation, and you don’t age. Those are only two things, and if you lose the density manipulation, then you’re easy prey,” Madelyn explains. She was right, Vi didn’t have many other qualities and powers that could increase her overall strength other than density manipulation. Slow aging was more like a curse to her, outliving everybody she ever knew. Madelyn hands her a paper, this time, Vi’s name on the top of the document. Another copy of Vought going against its own supes. 

“Thank you, Madelyn,” Vi manages to push out. She really appreciated it, but she wasn’t too extensive on words that day. Not after Ben. 

2022

Ben didn’t ask about the drugs after that. A limited amount of cannabis was allowed, with Butcher claiming that it will hold back some of Ben’s PTSD at bay. It seemingly did, to their luck. They’ve been going around in the damn forest for so long now that Vi was starting to doubt that they were even going in the right direction. 

“Ben,” VI quietly begins, trotting through the carpet of leaves along with Ben, with Hughie and Butcher some steps behind them, “I’m sorry. For that small outlash back there, I didn’t mean to.”

“At least now I get why you took all the good stuff,” he sarcastically replies, shooting a reassuring smile towards Vi. He understood that she did it to keep him from having a Nicaragua-situation, even if there was a hint of paranoia in Vi’s actions. A second later, he turns backwards, facing Butcher and Hughie. “What’d you say?”

The two share a confused look between each other.

“What?” Hughie meekly asks.

“What?” Ben asks back, not as meekly. 

“Nothing, mate,” Butcher answers finally, “no one said anything.”

Ben tries to keep his poker face on, nodding along. No, he definitely heard something. Vi didn’t though, probably because just as Butcher said, nobody said anything. Ben stood still for a few moments, trying to understand the situation before abruptly turning back and resuming his journey. Butcher shoots a confused look towards Vi, as if she was supposed to know what just happened. She shrugs, just as puzzled, before following in Ben’s footsteps. It took her a few moments, and right when she did, an explosion shook both of them. Did he just step in a landmine? Ben lands on a ground with a thud, while Vi just changed density, only returning to her normal state once the smoke had cleared, which took two seconds maybe. Ben pushed himself up from the ground with a grunt, grappling into Vi’s extended arm for him to grab. He wouldn’t have done it if it was anybody else, but for Vi, he accepted. The crows above them cawed loudly, Butcher and Hughie still somewhere in the remains of the smoke. There was a mutual understanding between Vi and Ben that Mindstorm was near, and if Vi really didn’t want anybody to get hurt, then it’s best to check up on them. And she was so glad they did. 

“Wake up,” Hughie panicked, crouching next to Butcher’s body laying amongst the leaves. Oh, fuck!

“Fucking freak slipped away,” Ben mutters to himself under his breath, Hughie still trying his best to wake Butcher up from what was basically his eternal sleep. “He’s gonna pick us off one by one.”

“Wake up, wake up Butcher,” Hughie shakes the brit’s body, his hopes still high as the Vought tower and Ben at the moment combined.

“No, you’re wasting your time, he’s gone,” Ben speaks up, kneeling down to the bag next to Butcher that was carried by Hughie up until that moment.

“What did Mindstorm do?” Hughie demands.

“Well, if it’s his usual MO, trapped him in an endless nightmare till he dies of terminal dehydration,” Ben says, straight to the point without sugarcoating the fact that Butcher was basically on his deathbed.

“No, there’s gotta be a way we can wake him up,” Hughie continues.

“Mindstorm put him into this, he can get him out of it,” Vi cuts in, staring down at Butcher’s unconscious body.

“Okay, great, uh,” Hughie stutters, now watching Ben adjust his shield.

“But he’s about to be dead,” Ben cuts him off.

“Wait wait, just hang on. If we, if we, if we grab Mindstorm, we make him help Butcher-”

“No way.”

“And then you could kill him. Please, Ben,” Vi joins in. She harbored some hatred towards Butcher, especially after their last interaction, but she had her morals. Those morals did not include letting people die. 

“Yeah, then you can go town on him man, I don’t give a fuck,” Hughie continues.

“Hey,” Ben turns back, pointing his finger at Hughie, “if you’re gonna act hysterical, I’m gonna slap you like I’m Connery, I don’t care if Vi likes you. Now, unless you want to end up like your friend there, it ain’t worth the risk. Chin up, okay?” He says in a much softer tone. “Deal’s a deal. You help me finish this, I’ll kill Homelander. Butcher would’ve given up his life for that in a heartbeat. So, we doing this, or not?”

Silence ensued between them. Hughie had no plans to let Butcher just die, not like this. And Vi knew it, and also knew that Hughie could teleport. Even if it costs him his clothes.

“Ben, please. It’s worth the risk, and you can get your revenge. I’ll threaten him hard enough, he’ll let Butcher go, and you can bash his face in,” Vi says, trying her best to convince Ben.

“Yeah, and he’ll kill both me and the kid.”

“Cover his eyes with anything. There’s a spare shirt in that bag, put that over his face. Trust me on this one.”

Ben contemplates for some moments. Both Vi and Hughie were so insistent on bringing Butcher back, even if they both just wanted him dead sometimes. But did he ever understand the way Vi's mind works? Not really.

“So, you think he’ll be back? Someone should stay with him,” Ben begins in a calm tone.

“Maybe. He could be lurking nearby,” Vi sighs, looking around. “I’ll stay.”

“What? You’re just letting me and him go to the shack?” Hughie asks, his voice laced with surprise.

“Hughie,” Vi begins, “I know that I was against you going to Mindstorm. I’m still not too happy about it, but if it comes down to Mindstorm returning here to get Butcher, somebody will have to face him. I know that fucker well enough, and I trust Ben that he will not let you get killed.”

Hughie’s mouth opens and closes as if he’s a fish, perplexed. Vi shot a gentle look at Ben, one that said “Please, don’t fuck it up”. He wasn’t going to, hopefully. 

“We gotta move fast,” he averts, turning back on the nonexistent road, Hughie following him closely behind. Vi just watched the two leave, already convinced that there will be some disagreement between the two. 

William Butcher. He slept so peacefully next to Vi, who just sat in the leaves beside him. The chances of Mindstorm returning were low, but not zero. And if Billy Butcher dies today, everything will fall apart. Because truth to be told, he was the mastermind behind it all, it was his plan in the first place, his revenge. 

“You know,” Vi begins, talking to the unconscious Butcher, “you’re an asshole. Or cunt, as you’d say. Ben was ready to let you die, so now you owe me an apology for what you said to me earlier, at least. What I said was mean too, but as childish as it might sound, you were the one who started it. I’m sorry. And also for trying to keep you and Hughie away from Mindstorm. But I buried everybody I knew, except maybe for Ben, and I don’t want you and Hughie to end up there, too, at least not for now. I want you to see Homelander die, because as much of a cunt you are, you deserve to get your revenge for once.”

Ben and Hughie were getting closer to the shack, Ben could just feel it in his veins. He was hearing things that weren’t there, and made sure to let Hughie know about it every few seconds.

“You might wanna lay off the weed, huh?” Hughie asks, unsure. That’s what he was most of the time actually, unsure. 

“This shit’s the only drug I can get my hands on, and I’m not throwing away just because of your wailing pussy,” he retorts immediately, fixing his eyes back on the trail. 

“If you hate me so much, then why’d you let me come along?”

“Because Vi wanted me to, otherwise I would’ve left that guy to rot right there. I’m not doing this for you or your ass-licker.”

“Okay..?” Hughie replies, not exactly knowing what to say. “But with all uh, due respect, why for her?”

“I never had jack shit to even think of me nicely. Vi does. She’s the only person I trust to the fucking brim of the world. Look at her,” he speaks, pointing into the direction where he supposed Vi was, now out of his view for a while now. “I would kill for her. I would die for her.” 

“This is probably the least disgusting thing I’ve heard you say,” Hughie breathes out.

“Do I look like I care if I curse? No fucking way,” Ben states, continuing his way.

“So you two uh, known each other for a long time now, right? Vi told me about some things.”

“It’s not Vi, to you, it’s Vienne. That fucking clear?” He calmly says, as calmly as possible in the mental state he was in momentarily.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Hughie nods along meekly. “But it’s you, right? You’re Ben.”

“What now, the two of you sat down for bedtime stories about her past? She’s not one to just open up about everything for some cum-guzzler kid like you,” he retorts, trotting through the leaves.

“No, I didn’t even know she was talking about you. But if that calms your mind, I hope you know she thought about you a lot,” Hughie quietly replies, trying his best to catch up to Ben, who didn’t reply with much at first, just nodding along. 

“So she didn’t forget me,” he exhaled, the corner of his mouth contorting into a barely-visible smile. “For the first time, I know what could be going on in her mind. I never do. Not now, not years ago. I’ve known her for so long, but never really got to enter her world.”

Vi didn’t say anything else to Butcher’s unconscious body. Now, she sat in peace, Butcher’s body propped up into a similar sitting position against a nearby tree.

The moment between the two is interrupted by Hughie randomly appearing out of nowhere, naked, Mindstorm with him, the two landing on the ground with a grunt. Vi shoots up from the ground, running over to Hughie. 

“What the hell?!” Mindstorm exclaims. “Why the fuck am I naked?!”

“What the fuck is this?!” She worriedly hisses, immediately covering both her and Hughie’s eyes with her palm to avoid whatever Mindstorm could do. “You,” she begins, her words addressed to Mindstorm, “stay right there. I’ll know it if you don’t.”

“Well,” Hughie begins, his tongue faltering, “I uh, I wasn’t sure if Soldier Boy would, you know, let him live for an extra ten minutes, and I didn’t want to let Butcher die, so-”

“So you really just grabbed Mindstorm, and basically betrayed Soldier Boy?” Vi asks in disbelief. She always referred to Ben as Soldier Boy when talking about him to anyone. 

“I can explain, okay? Both t-to you and Mindstorm,” Hughie stutters.

“You’re with Soldier Boy. And now the Ghost too?! You have no idea of what you’ve just done, this is plain murder! You’re trying to fucking kill me!” Mindstorm hisses furiously. 

“No! No, I just saved your life,” Hughie tries to calmly argue back. 

“He did, because Soldier Boy would’ve killed you the second he saw you. I’m not saying I won’t. Only if you don’t wake up that man over there,” Vi joins in, pointing to where she remembered Butcher was, given that she couldn’t see anything.

“Leave me alone!” Mindstorm screeches.

“Please calm down, I only want to talk,” Hughie speaks, kneeling down to the bag nearby them.

“I’m not bothering anyone, I just want to get away from the fucking voices,” Mindstorm quietly says, his tone rising back with the next sentence. “I’m just trying to get away from the voices!” Fuck, he did have some serious problems!

“We’re gonna… I’m gonna open my eyes, all right? Please, don’t coma me,” Hughie voices, his hand drifting away from his face, his eyes tightly shut. 

“I’ll get you if you send him into a coma,” Vi asserts. She didn’t trust Mindstorm enough to let him just stare into Hughie’s eyes, she doubted that the boy will be able to get Mindstorm do do something with the fucking power of friendship and trust. 

Hughie’s breath was shaky as he opened his eyes slowly. 

“Okay, hey, we’re cool,” he quietly mutters, his hand still raised in defense. From the sounds, Vi, whose eyes were still closed, could tell that Mindstorm didn’t do anything. Yet. “Very chill, very cool. Also, we don’t have to do this naked. All right?” He slowly stepped to the bag he left with Vi and Butcher, filled with spare clothes. “Just clothes,” he reassures the panicky Mindstorm, “they’re just clothes. I’m gonna reach in, grab you some, okay?”

The zipper rasps, Hughie pulling out a set of clothes a few seconds later. Mindstorm snatches it, immediately putting it on. Vi contemplated whether to open her eyes or not, but one little mistake, and boom, sent into a coma. Not taking that risk, not today.

“Look, hey, I don’t wanna be here,” Hughie continues. “I-I was pretending to be someone I’m not. I’m not like Soldier Boy.” He was about to say that he was full of shit, but hey, with Vi standing right next to him, that might not be the best idea. “No one is that tough, and then the people who say they are? They’re lying. And I’m… I’m done. I want to go home. So, I’m just… I’m begging you, please wake my friend up.”

“I’ve been inside his head. That guy’s a piece of shit,” Mindstorm replies. If he wasn’t going to help them out, Vi was ready to hand him over to Ben like some gift.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hughie cuts him off. “I don’t want to be someone who leaves people behind. I want to be someone who saves his family. And for better or worse… he’s family,” he speaks with a breaking voice. He’s family. Vi understood Hughie’s motives all too well. I don’t want to be someone who leaves people behind. She would’ve loved to see Butcher swing, but knowing that she could’ve done something to help him? No, he had to be helped.

“Please, wake him up,” she joins in. 

“No, no way,” Mindstorm retorts quietly. 

“I can get you out of here,” Hughie offers. “If you just please, please wake him up. I’ll teleport you away. You’ll be safe from everyone, including Soldier Boy. I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Hand to God.”

Vi wasn't too fond of the idea of saving Mindstorm, especially since he was part of the deal in taking Homelander down. But if this was what it took to get Butcher to wake up, she was willing to make this sacrifice. Mindstorm stayed quiet. He was obviously considering the deal, and by now, Vi was willing to open her eyes. A grunt could be heard from Butcher, the first sound he made since Mindstorm trapped him. Hughie doesn’t waste a second, rushing over to him. Butcher shoots up into a sitting position, his breathing heavy. Vi walks over to them, shooting a quick nod to Mindstorm. This might’ve been the first good deed of his, and as surreal as it sounded, Vi was thankful for him. 

“It’s okay Butcher,” Hughie reassures the man, Vi kneeling down next to them. Butcher looked shell shocked, and Vi had a feeling that she did not want to know what he saw inside his own mind.

“Hey, kid,” Mindstorm speaks up anxiously.

“Right, right, yeah,” Hughie gets up, remembering his part of the deal. “Okay, deal’s a deal, where we headed?”

A sudden gasp escapes his lips, making Vi turn around immediately. A throwing knife was stuck in Mindstorm’s face, right in his eye. It was Ben’s work, no question about that. Mindstorm fell to the ground with an agonizing scream, then shooting right back up, raising his hand to the huge injury decorating his face. Ben appeared in the not too distant distance, heading towards the group with quick steps. Mindstorm attempts to remove the knife from his face, his blood now soaking into Hughie’s shirt that was currently worn by Mindstorm. Hughie gasps and takes a step back as Mindstorm swiftly snatches the knife out of his face, blood spilling onto everything around him. Ben arrives, knocking his former teammate to the ground with his shield. Mindstorm lands on the ground with a thud, and not even a moment later, Ben is on top of him, pulling a bag over his face. 

“Wait, wait,” Hughie interferes, rushing over to them. Vi wanted to too, but killing Mindstorm was part of Butcher and Ben’s deal. Ben lands a punch right into Mindstorm’s face through the bag over his head. Ben gets up, staring at Hughie with a serious face. With a punch right to his face, he sends the boy flying. Vi stares at Hughie now laying on the ground, Butcher already flashing his laser eyes towards Ben, who doesn’t do anything, just stares back at them. He picks his shield back up, keeping the eye contact with Butcher and Vi. Hughie sits up, grunting and coughing. Butcher walks over to Hughie, helping him up. Ben goes back to Mindstorm, Vi standing a few steps behind him. It was his revenge, let him handle it.

“Hiya Dan,” Ben speaks up, looking down at Mindstorm. 

“It’s n-not what you think, it wasn’t my idea!” He defends himself. His first words to Ben after all these years was how Nicaragua wasn’t his idea. 

“Oh, I know, it was Noir’s,but how does that work, huh? ‘Cause no way he makes a fucking move without Vought!”

“They gave him the green light!” Mindstorm musters up, his voice quivering. 

“Why would they do that?”

“They had a replacement for you!” He spits out finally. “It was a kid, made with some of your genes, but stronger. They didn’t want you around anymore.”

“What? That’s impossible!” Ben replies furiously. This was news to Vi, something not even Madelyn told her. She had to run a list in her head of all the supes that were stronger than Ben and were strictly under Vought, because let’s be real, they would not let such a powerful personal weapon of theirs just go, but ended up in the same place, on the same supe. And if she was right, then it will cause serious complications in the near future. Ben, out of anger, smashes the sharper part of his shield into Mindstorm’s bag-covered face, again and again, until Mindstorm wasn’t breathing anymore. Hughie watched in horror, his deal now reduced to an unfulfilled promise. Ben kept shouting as he reduced Mindstorm’s face to mush, breaking even his skull. His anger knew no limits at that moment, and by the time he was finished, the bag was soaked in blood, taking up a red shade. 

Chapter Text

There wasn’t much left. We are going to storm the Vought tower. Both Noir, the only person left on Ben’s list of revenge, and Homelander himself were there. 

It was nighttime when the group arrived at The Legend’s mansion. They didn’t have to endure that place for long now, with the group going through with their plan the next day. Ben isolated himself right after their arrival, sitting in the basement, alone. Butcher and Hughie just stared at him, dumbfounded. When they asked Vi about the situation, she refused to reply. It was enough if Ben knew about it, who knows where they would end up if Butcher got hold of the same information. Ben was seemingly affected by the revelation, but Vi knew him well enough to know that Ben won’t let this stop him, because Butcher’s offer in the deal was almost finished, and Ben had enough loyalty in himself to not give up. Deal’s a deal. 

Butcher wasn’t in his best mood, either. Whatever Mindstorm made him see, it had to be a terrible part of his life. 

“Hey,” Vi quietly greets Butcher, leaning against the pool table. She wasn’t planning on asking what exactly Mindstorm made him see. “I’m sorry on behalf of Mindstorm.”

Butcher keeps observing the ground, averting eye contact from Vi. This was probably the first time that Vi saw William Butcher vulnerable. 

“Don’t,” he replies plainly.
“He can make the people in your dream say things they wouldn’t in real life. Now, I have no idea what you saw, but you don’t need to believe every word. Just saying,” she melancholically says, not looking at Butcher. She knew Mindstorm and his abilities, and how awful they could be. Why she was comforting Butcher, or at least attempting to, she didn’t know. He was so obviously on the edge of tears, even sniffing once. The phone in his pocket came to life with a buzz, somebody calling him. With a sigh, he picks it up.

“Hello?” He questioned. “Oh, Starlight, how delightful. He’s just popped out for a bit. Bit hard to keep the phone when you’re teleporting all day, innit, love? How can I help?”

Vi couldn’t hear what Starlight said on the other end, she just tried to piece the conversation together from Butcher’s lines. 

“Well, it’s gonna have to join the queue,” Butcher says into the phone. Starlight says something on the other end, Butcher’s expression slightly changing. “Just a couple. Yeah yeah, I will, I promise,” he promises, breaking up the call right after. 

“What’d she say?” Vi quietly questions.

“Just had a message for Hughie. He’s lost his phone,” he replies. Vi hums in response. Just then, the aforementioned Hughie steps through the door.

“Hi,” he greets the two. “Only thing open was Long John Silvers, so, I guess that’s kind of fish n’ chips, right?”

“Yeah. Nice one,” Butcher speaks. 

“Everything all right?” Hughie suspiciously asks. For a few moments, Butcher stays quiet.

“It’s uh…” he begins. “It’s the Temp V.”

“What about it?”

“We got to swing by the office and get some more,” Butcher replies finally after a lengthy silence. “And then you, me, Ghostie, and granny fucker are gonna finish this fucking job.”

“Yeah, fuck yeah,” Hughie chuckles. Vi had a feeling that there was something Butcher wasn’t telling them, and knowing him, it might be some crucial information he’s withholding. 

Ben exits his personal prison, regrouping with the rest of his team. 

“Oi,” Butcher begins, “mind telling us what’s going on?”

Ben comes to a halt, first looking at the ground, then at Vi and Butcher. With a sigh, he finally spits it out.

“Homelander’s my son,” he blurts out. Hughie lightly jerks his head back in surprise, pretty much expecting anything except this. 

“Wow,” he muttered to himself. 

“How long have you known?” Butcher asks.

“Since today. From fucking Mindstorm, out of all people…”

“But uh, that doesn’t stop you from killing him, right?” Hughie worries, a nervous chuckle escaping him. Vi places her hand on top of Hughie’s shoulder reassuringly and just nods. If Ben doesn't reply anything, she will. Without words, though. She knew Ben, and he wasn’t going to abandon the mission for the sake of some kid he never even knew. Hughie’s newfound phone started to emit a buzzing sound, the boy immediately fumbling in his pocket in search of it. When he finally finds it, he places it to his ear, a “Hello?” escaping his lips. The voice on the other line was inaudible to Vi. 

“Yeah, she’s here,” Hughie says, looking over his shoulder at Vi. She scrunches her eyebrows, dumbfounded as to who would be looking for her. Hughie takes the phone away from his ear, handing it to Vi. “It’s Frenchie. I talked with him earlier on the phone, he might be able to help you out.”

“Thanks,” Vi takes the phone with uncertainty. “Hello?”

“Bonjour, fantôme,” the strongly accented voice rang from the other end. “Petit Hughie told me about your flying-problem. I looked into your powers more, but it’d be a big help if you could describe what you did yourself.”

“Well,” Vi begins, trying to recall everything about what she did in Russia. “I was uh, stressed, I suppose. And it just happened. It wasn’t flying, actually, more like when you jump, y’know?”

“Okay, let me think for a few moments, don’t hang up,” Frenchie says thoughtfully, the line going silent for some seconds. Vi stood anxiously, the answer to her question about to be solved. She knew about some things Frenchie did over the years, and if anybody, he could do this. “Bonjour, I’m back. So, my theory is that you changed both your own density and the air’s density around you. Changing the density of something also changes its weight, I think this might be it. Helium is lighter than air, so a balloon filled with this gas weighs less than the air it displaces and will therefore be subjected to an upward force. Maybe out of frustration, you lost control of your ability for a few moments, and your density changed your weight to be lighter than air. Then when you were in the air and fell back, that was because you regained your consciousness and slowly changed back to your casual density. This is the best way I could describe your jump-situation. I hope it’s enough.”

“Enough? This is more than I could ever come up with, you’re a legend,” Vi replies, still in disbelief about what she just heard. This little french man just solved the whole situation over the phone! “Funny saying that from The Legend’s house. I’m so thankful right now, I just… Thanks,” she smiles. It’s been a long time since she really appreciated some information on this level. 

“Of course, dame fantôme, better a well-controlled superpower now than an out of control one later,” Frenchie replies from the other end, his tone laced with happiness, hanging up right after. 

“Don’t let this guy go,” Vi mutters to Hughie with a faint smile as she hands him back his phone.

Ben sat on the couch, the newly revealed father-son situation still on his mind. He had a kid. Maybe not biologically, but he did. He could’ve raised him like he always planned to. Vought stood in his way. Vought. It’s always Vought for some reason. He could hear Vi’s footsteps approaching. He knew it was hers, because Butcher’s was a lot louder and the soles of Hughie’s shoe made a different sound. Ben raises his head, now observing the girl sitting down next to him instead of the ground. 

“I didn’t think it would affect you this much,” Vi quietly begins. 

“Me neither. But here I am, wasting away, thinking about this dumbfuck of a walking american flag is somehow my genetic son. And that we’ll kill him tomorrow,” Ben replies, his voice laced with melancholy. 

“But you never even met him. You didn’t raise him. If that comforts you somehow. You don’t need to feel bad for not being there for him,” Vi says, leaning sideways, her head now on Ben’s shoulder. 

“I know. I’ll do it. Deal’s a deal, right?”

“Right.”

“So, still no suit?” Ben inquires. “I mean, going up against Homelander in jeans and a shirt? Won’t look too cool on the news, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t have it on me.”

“So you still have it, I take it then? Just not here,” Ben pushes forward. Vi sighs, getting up. She did have the suit, just basically ditched it after leaving Vought not even a day after the Nicaragua incident. She viewed it as some bad memory, but that same bad memory held countless good ones, too. She wasn’t the most sentimental one, but that suit had value in her heart.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Ben,” she calmly orders, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile as she leaves the room. 

1984

2:47 AM

Vi stood in the tiny bathroom of her newly occupied apartment, somewhere in New York. Vought will be looking for her, she knew that, but she won’t be caught if they can’t find her. And they can’t find her if she removes the chip from her body. It would’ve been more sanitary and safe to get a professional to get a look at it, but nobody could be trusted, Vought could dig out any medical records or kill anyone for their own sake. 

She leaned against the sink, staring down at the sinkhole, taking deep breaths. Her plan was stupid, but if she does make it work, it could be effective. This could get Vought off her tail forever. This could grant her the freedom she sought. A painful, but hopefully working method. 

2:52 AM

With her fingers, she brushed over her neck and collarbone, until she landed on the tiny chip planted inside her. She shut her eyes, and with a sigh, she phased into herself. She tried to be as careful as possible, lifting the chip and with a hiss and a swift pull, she tore it out. She tried to only materialize the end of her fingers, but that still caused enough damage for her to bleed a river into the sink, her plain white shirt now taking on a reddish hue. She looked like she'd been shot, a hole decorating the area between her collarbone and shoulder. Her fingertips were just as blood-soaked, the tiny chip still in her grasp. Breaking it inside her home would’ve been a mistake, it would’ve just attracted Vought to the building. 

3:19 AM

She took out a roll of gauze, wrapping it tightly around her shoulder, making sure it covers the hole she inflicted upon herself. She didn’t switch the shirt, just threw on a jacket, strongly holding the chip in her fist. Before exiting the apartment, she glanced back at the blue-ish suit, now laid on her couch. That was the only furniture in her newly-bought apartment. That was her almost trademark, and now, she contemplated whether to put it in a bag and take that too, get rid of it along with the chip, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She stormed out of the apartment, smashing the door shut. She ran down the stairs, her anxiety spiked up. Vought could find her any time any day. She sped down the stairs, only looking forward, baseball cap over her head like Ben used to do it. 

3:42 AM

Vi left the apartment, entering the now dark street, basking in fog. She didn’t want to take public transport, fearing that if somebody recognized her, Vought would find her. Their power was unbearable above her, almost unavoidable. Vought could send anybody to kill her if they wanted to. Going anywhere was a mistake, or at least felt like one. She glanced back over her shoulder from time to time, making sure that she was the only one to roam the streets so late. Occasionally a homeless man, sometimes a hungover guy would appear nearby, but that didn’t stop her stride. The chip had to be destroyed in a place that could be untraceable back to her. 

6:04 AM

A field took up her vision. It’s been so long since she stopped to take a breather. Vi stood on the side of the road, now out of New York’s main area, maybe somewhere towards Newark by the time she came to a halt. You can never be too sure. She steps down to the empty field with burnt grass now humid with dew, leaving her spot on the side of the road. Even more walking.

6:13

She came to a halt somewhere in the field. This was the place to get rid of the chip, she knew it. Nobody could track it back to her. She took out her lighter, igniting it. She held it under the chip, watching the flame dance around it. What she was about to do could have caused an electrical fire right then and there, but the chip had her fingerprints on it. Taking no chances. She now understood why Mindstorm went crazy. The chip sparks, and Vi empties the entire bottle of her water on it. The fire died out immediately, now the chip is untraceable. She threw it into the grass, and left it right there. It had to be buried with Ben and her old life.

2022, present

The apartment’s door didn’t creak open. She just phased through it. What greeted her did not evoke much joy in Vi. 

It was a mess. And it wasn’t her own mess. The shelf was on the ground, every book scattered around it in better or worse condition. Her cupboards were all hanging open, some of her glasses broken. Her door was locked, and whoever broke in wasn’t an ordinary human. Vi only came to this realization when she saw the two tiny, eye-sized holes burnt into her wall. She took a glance at where the laser eye marks were. The picture that covered the single gunshot’s mark, still there after all those years. She walks over to her bed, lifting up the mattress. Thank God it’s still here, she thought, her eyes fixed on what laid hidden under the mattress.

Nothing personal of hers was taken, whoever was here was here for her, and was gone by then. 

A note greeted her on the counter, seemingly handwritten with one of her own pens, the words “I know you’re with Soldier Boy. I’ll find you too,” engraved into it. It was signed with only one letter, confirming Vi’s theory. “- H.” 

Now it was personal. Vought ruined and took everything she ever loved or had. Her normal life, Ben, and now her home. Until that, she didn’t have personal problems with Homelander, just the things she knew he’s done onto others like Becca Butcher. She wanted to take him down to avoid future Becca-cases and to just anger Vought, to take away the only thing that’s worth anything to them, but now, the situation’s changed. Her whole apartment was in shambles, just like her life, a reflection of her soul. And yet again, Vought is behind it.

Chapter Text

“Woah, what the fuck,” Butcher calmly exclaims as Vi storms inside, through the whole house. She didn’t spend the night with them, only returned sometime before noon. Butcher and Hughie were already in the living room, with Ben just entering with a bottle of liquor in his hands. Or at least that was what Vi thought, but it seemed more like just him pouring cola into a glass of milk, as Vi just watched with disgust. “New outfit, I see.”

“We’re going right now, no?” She asserts. 

“All right, let’s be off, then. We’ll swing by the office and grab some more V. And then Hughie jumps us to where the cunts are,” he outlines the plan, grabbing his jacket. “We do Noir, and then Homelander. And we’re finished. Right?”

Ben doesn’t say anything, just looks around and walks off. Butcher and Vi stare after him. Homelander might now be his fully biological son, but he was probably the closest thing he had to a family, something he never really had, and Ben began to wonder whether it was better to have a father that’s absent your whole life, or to have one that deems you a disappointment no matter what you do. 

Vi managed to fetch Ben into the car, the two of them occupying the backseat while Butcher and Hughie were in the front, the Brit driving. They were heading for the Flatiron Building, specifically their office inside it. Ben took notice of Vi’s abrupt departure the previous day, and that she didn’t return in the morning. And when she did, she had a change of clothes.

“I thought you ditched the suit,” he started, lightly pointing at Vi’s suit. He was so sure that she wouldn’t wear it again, that it surprised him to actually see it after so many years. Black, almost cowboy-like boots with tinier, some intricate designs decorating it in the same color, barely noticeable. Her light blue top was made to look like a corset, with white flowy sleeves that only reached to her elbow. The flowy theme appeared more times on her suit, with Vought claiming that it adds more to the “ghost” look. That was what her color palette mostly was. White, blue, and black. She had a darker blue shaded, cape-like, long ruffle down to her knee-level, attached to a yet again dark blue, additional short sleeve at the top. She had white bottoms to it that she refused to change despite Ben telling her that it makes her look more like a pirate rather than a ghost. 

“It’s personal now,” Vi replied, looking Ben straight in the eye.

“Glad to have you on my side right now. We’re gonna eviscerate that motherfucker,” he smirked back.

Vi decided to make up for the lost hours of sleep in the car, given that she spent the last night all awake. It turned out that Ben was in a similar situation, drinking his thoughts away in the comfort of the room he locked himself in for the night. Both were asleep, only awoken by the sound of Butcher reentering his car after a quick stop at a gas station. He starts the engine, and spets on the pedal, leaving the station - and Hughie - behind. 

“Hughie’s not in the car,” Vi whispers, stating her observation to Ben next to her. He takes a glance at the passenger’s seat, only to come to the same realization. 

“Where’s the cum guzzler?” He loudly asks Butcher. If anybody, he knew where Hughie was. 

“You were spot on about him,” butcher calmly begins. “There I was, filling up the motor, I turn around, the little git had done a runner,” he explains in the most unbearable British slang he could find. Ben looks at him wide eyed, eyebrows raised, probably not understanding half of what he said. 

“He said Hughie left us,” Vi quietly explains, noticing the visible confusion of Ben. 

“He speaks English, doesn’t he?” Butcher questions.

“He speaks eagles and freedom, not tea,” Vi grunts, repositioning herself in her seat. It’s been hours on the road, stuffed into Butcher’s old car. 

“We needed him to get to Noir,” Ben said, discontinuing the brewing conversation, or more like argument between Butcher and Vi. 

“Ah, don’t worry about that, guv. I got it all worked out,” Butcher grins back at him through the rear-view mirror. Ben was visibly not too happy about the change in plans, especially since Butcher didn’t say what his idea was. 

“Wake me up when we get to New York,” he grunts, laying back. Vi contemplated whether to ask Butcher about his plan or not, but there was no way he’d let them all run inside the tower with no idea of what to do, he’ll surely give some information. Still, he seemed way too calm for someone who just saw Hughie run off. Not an ounce of disappointment or anger in him. 

It was nightfall by the time they reached the office located inside the Flatiron Building. Butcher was quick to pull out some blueprints and documents of the Vought tower, observing and planning. Vi sat down on the other end of the office, letting Butcher and Ben have whatever talk they were having. Ben was seemingly trying to toxicate himself yet again, as if he didn’t swallow two whole bottles full of liquor and alcohol. It couldn’t kill him, but some slight effects were visible if he drank enough. 

Ben stations his glass on one of the cupboards with a clink, leaving the office with a solemn stride. Vi watched as he left, her eyes still on the door even after Ben himself wasn’t there anymore. 

“Was what he said true?” Butcher questions out of the blue, placing his glass down. 

“Depends, what’d he say? I wasn’t listening,” Vi replies, getting up from the spot where she sat until that moment.

“About his father. How he’d deem him too much of a disappointment of a son.”

“That, he did. Every day. It was the reason why Ben applied for the field-testing of the V. To prove himself to his dad. It didn’t work out, and his dad died thinking of his son as somebody unworthy to carry his blood and name,” Vi explains, recalling everything from the past. Ben’s father died sometime in the 1960s, with Vi attending the funeral out of curiosity, as wrong as this sounds. Ben on the other hand didn’t make an appearance. Vi never blamed him for it, it was an understandable choice. Butcher just hummed in response, turning back to what he was doing, the Temp V laid out in front of him. Vi began to doubt whether this Temp V was harmful or not, because even if she didn’t give a voice for her observation, she took notice of the mysterious goo dripping from Butcher’s ear every so often. 

A knock could be heard on the office’s door. Vi gives a suspicious look to Butcher, one that asks whether she should go and open it or if he will do it himself, with Butcher walking over to the door.

“Fuck me,” he breathes out, his eyes landing on his unexpected guests. Ben still wasn’t back, and Vi started to consider the option that these people were the reason behind that. “I figured you was dead.”

“You didn’t think I knew where the blind spots were, motherfucker? Back up,” MM appears, holding his handgun to Butcher’s chin from below, the rest of the team arriving behind him. Vi rises from her seat, taking slow steps towards the door, ready for whatever MM and the rest of the group were about to do. Butcher takes some steps back, keeping eye contact with MM. 

“Where’s Soldier Boy?” Annie asks menacingly. There was something about her that just didn’t really alert Vi as much as Annie herself would’ve wanted to. The threatening tone sounded so fake and forced from her mouth. What’s she gonna do? Flash her eyes?

“You on that Temp V shit Butcher, huh?” MM hisses, his handgun still held towards Butcher. “What happens if I pull this trigger?”

“Go on, do it,” Butcher grins down at him with a knowing look. Hughie runs closer, placing his hand on MM’s shoulder.

“Hey, MM, stop. MM!” He quietly says, MM letting Butcher go, knowing that his threat of pulling the trigger fell on deaf ears with Butcher being bulletproof. “If Soldier Boy goes through with this, thousands will die,” Hughie continues, now looking at Butcher. “Help us stop him.”

“Just as many people will die if we let Homelander roam free,” Vi cuts in. “Soldier Boy is only there for Noir and Homelander, if nobody gets in his way, nobody else will get hurt. There’s a difference between the two of them.”

“Yes, but Vought still has a few, more like many people inside the building, and we saw what happened at Herogasm!” Hughie worriedly argues back. 

“Herogasm was his PTSD. Annie, put that down,” Vi switches tone, glancing at the perfume in Annie’s clutch. It was obviously something else in it, because there’s no way they’d be carrying a glass of perfume, especially not here. 

“Ghostie’s right,” Butcher intervenes while Vi was having a stare-off with Annie, the latter’s eyes glowing a tiny bit brighter with each passing second before they go back to their original state., the perfume still in her hand. “If we don’t hear no russian music in the tower, it’s a whole different situation. He’ll be able to control his ability. On the other hand, Homelander’s a deranged psycho, whom nobody can defeat. This is our only chance. This ain’t a bloody kinder care we’re on about, son. It’s Vought fucking Tower.”

“Becca worked in the tower,” Frenchie quietly comments, mostly to himself or perhaps Kimiko standing beside him. 

“You shut your fucking cake hole, Frenchie,” Butcher immediately retorts. Frenchie’s brow furrows, visibly not having Butcher’s degradation and humiliation inflicted upon him. Fuck it, Vi thought, I’m not taking part in this family quarrel. WIth quick steps, she headed for the door, before Annie held out her hand in front of Vi’s chest as a way to get her to stop. She comes to a halt, right where Annie’s hand was in the middle of her unmaterialized torso.

“What is it that you want to say, hm? If it’s something stupid, then I’ll materialize right here, and rid you of your hand. Choose your next words carefully,” Vi declares, her tone soaked with a mix of hatred and annoyance. This group was doing everything but helping them, and Ben was still nowhere to be seen. That was why she tried to leave before Annie stopped her, to find Ben.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Annie retorts. 

“None of your business, actually,” Vi grins back at her, fed up with being held back. Homelander had to be eliminated, that’s that, and Vought’s night shift workers better stay out of their way.

“My business, actually. The perfume in my hands has something else in it,” she threatens, holding up the glass of perfume while Butcher and Frenchie were arguing in the background.

“Yeah, I figured,” Vi nonchalantly replies.

“You know what’s inside? Novichok. The only thing that can send Soldier Boy into a coma.”

“Too bad you won’t see this again,” Vi says as she snatches the glass from Annie’s hand, the perfume flying through the glass and onto the street. Vi could only hope that it wasn’t where Ben stood. Annie’s eyes widened, watching the only weapon they had against Soldier Boy being destroyed, her mouth hanging open as Vi turned back to her, the same neutral expression on her face. Vi was unsure where Annie was planning the conversation to go, did she expect Vi to look at the glass and think “Nice” or what?

“Butcher and Ghost’s right,” the ginger-ish haired woman wearing an “I love NYC” shirt intervenes, “Homelander needs to die. That’s it, whatever it takes.”

“I really thought that deep down, you both were heroes,” Annie speaks, her words addressed to Vi and Maeve.

“Well, you were wrong,” Maeve coldly replies. “There’s no such thing.”

“This is not gonna happen,” Annie calmly argues back, her eyes starting to switch colors as the lights in the room begin to flicker. 

“Annie, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“But I will,” Ben interferes, appearing in the room, staring down Annie. All the eyes in the room land on him as he slowly approaches the group. 

“All right, you lot,” Butcher sounds. “In the safe,” he cocks his head to the side. 

“Woah woah, hey,” Hughie mutters to him, now turning his head towards the brit. Butcher stared back at him coldly, his mind set.

“In the safe,” he repeats himself, seriousness taking his tone this time. The group shares a mutual look between each other, considering their chances. They were up against V’d up Butcher, Queen Maeve, Ghost, and Soldier Boy, whose fingers were already wrapped around his combat knife. And now their only weapon against Soldier Boy was gone, thrown out the window. 

“You wanted to help people, isn’t that what you said? Stop them, then.,” Hughie desperately exclaims to Vi, pointing at Soldier Boy. 

“I am. Getting rid of Homelander is a big fucking help," Vi calmly retorts

“Let’s go,” Annie quietly breathes out. Hughie scoffs in response, maybe with a hint of disbelief in his voice. “Not now. Not like this.”
The group slowly enters the safe one by one, Maeve closing the door shut behind them. 

“Strange seeing you here,” Vi greets her.

“You’re telling me?” Maeve playfully scoffs, though she seemed utterly tired, or maybe just really focused on killing Homelander. “Everybody thought you were dead.”

“They thought the same about Soldier Boy,” Vi says, the two heading towards the hallway, following the steps of Ben and Butcher.

“It’s pretty fucking weird, seeing one of my childhood heroes in the flesh. Hell, you were the childhood hero of mine,” she breathes out. Vi hummed in response, lightly taken aback by the statement. Maeve was maybe the only member of the Seven whom Vi held an ounce of respect for.

“And you’re the only person from Vought I considered a fair player. So I’d say we’re even now. I considered you and Homelander the new Ghost and Soldier Boy, though something went really wrong with that walking american flag. You’re going to fight Homelander in this?” Vi asks, making a vague gesture towards the literal pajama Maeve was wearing. 

Chapter Text

The car comes to a halt at the entrance of the Vought tower, the squad stepping out from it. It was somewhat of a legendary sight. Soldier Boy, the war hero and the first ever supe, back from the dead, Ghost, the first female supe and army hero by his side, and Queen Maeve - still in the pajama-like outfit -, now deemed dead by Vought, with the supe-killer William Butcher. The four of them stared up at the tower, the lights still on, even if most of the workers were home by now. They entered without a word, the two guards at the door dropping dead as they walked through.
“I’ll go get my suit,” Maeve declares, striding towards the elevator. “Don’t go and kill Homelander before I get there, I want to land some punches.”

“We’ll wait here,” Vi reassures her with a smirk.

“Will we?” Ben counters, giving Vi a confused glare. 

“You wanted Noir’s head, didn’t you? Floor 99. Room 8 or the meeting room. Go,” Vi ushers Ben towards the other elevator. He nods, the corner of his mouth curling into a mischievous smile before he runs off. 

It’s been long since Vi was in the tower, but she doubted that they changed Noir’s room. 

“You sure it’s a good idea?” Butcher asks. 

“It’s part of the deal. Let him have it. We should take the elevator and follow him and Maeve. Homelander will likely be there,” she announces, she too, heading to the remaining elevator, because neither her nor Butcher will climb the stairs to get to the 99th floor. 

“Couldn’t we all just go with Maeve, then?” Butcher sighs, pressing the right button on the elevator. 

“No, I had to get the word count up. Now, up we go,” Vi exhales, mentally preparing herself for what’s to come. Homelander was no weak player, not even for her with his arsenal of abilities. 

The elevator let out a quick ring when it arrived on the 99th floor. The two exit, now entering the hallway, empty at such late hours. Vi roams the halls with Butcher following her, until Ben comes striding towards them.

“Noir’s dead,” he states out of the blue.

“Good, that’s what we came here for,” Vi gently smiles.

“Not by my hands,” Ben adds. Vi’s brows furrow, a confused look overtaking her face. “Somebody’s already done the deed. Ripped his guts out.”

“You think it’s him?” Vi questions, now turning to Butcher.

“Homelander’s the only cunt who would murder his teammate. Especially if he knows Soldier Boy will come running for that guv,” he replies. 

“Motherfucker took the kill from right under my nose,” Ben furiously breathes out, shuffling around in one place out of anger, ready to run off after Homelander before Vi’s arm shoots out to block him.

“We’ll get Maeve, and get to Homelander together. We all have some personal vendetta against him, and we’ll all get our revenge. Deal?” She proposes, seriousness in her gaze. Ben would’ve been a fool to rush in unprepared, filled with rage and nothing else. Ben wasn't one to do things without a previously planned idea and strategy, he knew better than that. He nods in response to Vi’s suggestion, taking a deep inhale as he turns back to the two. 

Maeve opens the door of her room with a newfound confidence, immediately noticing Butcher and the two other supes in the hallway. Nobody walked these hallways at this time of the day, the few people still in the tower were selected security guards. 

“You’re done with Noir?” She loudly questions.

“Homelander did the job for me,” Ben grumpily replies, slightly shaking his head sideways in disapproval. 

“So we’re all against Homelander here?” Maeve questions.

“Yes,” answers everybody else in surprising unison. This was the one thing they all could agree on. 

“Any idea where he might be?” Vi asks, the question directed at Maeve. She gives them a knowing look, lightly nodding.

There he was. On the computer was an old footage playing, some anti-nazi propaganda featuring Soldier Boy. Homelander stood in front of the computer, taking in every detail of the black and white video. He hears the quiet footsteps of the four supes - with Butcher now counting as one with his temporary V powers -, sighing as he looks up from the computer, his back still to the other people now in the room. 

“Scorched earth, eh, William?” He questions quietly, not even looking at them. 

“Scorched earth,” Butcher confidently retorts. 

“What’s with Noir?” Soldier Boy demands, not wasting a second.

“He’s dead,” Homelander bluntly answers, his back still turned to the others. 

“Yeah, we noticed. It was you, right?” Vi cuts in. 

“I killed him,” he grinned as he turned around, slowly pacing around the table. 

“Why?” 

“Because he didn’t tell me about you,” he looks over to Ben. “I’m alone. I just want to talk,” he continued, now face to face with the four people in front of him. “I know what it’s like to have your team betray you,” he spat, looking Maeve right in the eye. “But with you and I together, they wouldn’t stand a chance. Nobody would.”

Ben nods along with what Homelander was spitting at them, calmly, actually. 

“Unless we kill each other first,” he steps closer to Homelander, slowly and with calculated steps.

“That's true, but why?” Homelander quietly reasons back, now vaguely cocking his head towards Butcher. “What, because he says so? He’s nothing. He’s human.”

“Don’t you listen to this fucking twat,” Butcher cuts in, inching closer to Homelander. At this point, it was unclear whether Ben was going to kill Homelander or team up with him instead. Vi placed all her trust, all her money bet on the fact that Ben will kill Homelander, or at least help them as much as he can. Breaking a deal wasn’t his style, both him and Vi knew it. “He ain’t your kid.”

“Yes I am!” Homelander abruptly snaps back, his calmness now nowhere to be seen. “I am your son! I am your blood! That’s all that matters.”

“Maybe,” Ben quietly replies, his face devoid of any specific emotion. Both Vi and Maeve were inching closer, waiting and ready for the worst. Homelander takes a few sloppy steps back, opening a door to another room. Stepping through it is a boy, not older than maybe ten, Homelander’s hands on his shoulders. 

“Ryan,” Butcher mutters to himself, almost sounding almost as if he was in disbelief. Homelander stood back to his original position, with Ryan now in front of him. 

“This is my son. Ryan. Your grandson,” Homelander informs the group, a bittersweet smile etched onto his face.

“Hi grandpa,” Ryan meekly says, his eyes fixed on Ben. Vi shoots him a worried look, trying to figure out what could be going on in Ben’s head. His own son and grandson stood right in front of him, dammit! Ben slowly examines Butcher from the side of his eye, as if considering turning against him right then and there.

“You see,” Homelander resumes, “you have a family. You have him. And you have me.”

Ben chuckled softly at his words, taking a step closer to America’s hero. Vi’s heart was racing, unsure about the outcome of whatever was going to happen. 

“It’s a shame that I’ve missed… so much,” Ben begins, mirroring the emotion of Homelander, and if it was a romcom, it would’ve been a nicely emotional ending scene, but the future of the world was at the stake here, because if Soldier Boy, Homelander, and Ryan were to team up, they would form an undefeatable alliance. “I wish I could’ve raised you… and taught you, father to son.”

“Me too,” Homelander quickly blurts out, his eyes now shimmering with slowly forming tears. “That’s okay. We’re not alone anymore. We have each other,” he smiles down at Ryan, slowly fluffing the boy’s hair up. Ben firmly places his hand on Homelander’s shoulder before speaking up again. 

“Maybe if I’d raised you… I could’ve made you better. And not some weak, sniveling pussy, starved for attention.” Vi’s expression changes the moment Ben utters those words, going from a masked worry to a proud smirk, ready to snicker at the way Ben just roasted America’s number one hero with just the truth. Butcher shares a similar expression, grinning on the other side of the room as he watches the conversation. “But there’s no fixing that now.”

“Weak?” Homelander quietly echoes, batting his eyes. “I’m… you.”

“I know. You’re a fucking disappointment,” he declares before abruptly reaching for Homelander’s throat, forcing his head back with one hand. 

“Leave him alone!” Ryan shouts in hopes of getting the Soldier Boy to stop. Butcher rushes over, holding off Homelander’s arm while Vi does the same with the other. Ryan crashes into him, but to no avail, Butcher doesn't budge. 

“Get out of here Ryan,” Butcher orders, paying no attention to the kid still begging for them to let Homelander go. “Get out of the building, now!”

Ben’s chest started to heat up and come to a glow, a level of radiation already emitting from his body. The drawback of this ability was that Ben needed a certain amount of time to charge it up, and Homelander was hard to be held back. Ryan tries to drag Maeve away by her arm, but the woman and her superhuman strength didn’t move an inch. Ryan took a step back, looking over to Soldier Boy, two red laser beams leaving the boy’s eyes. Ben flies back, straight through a glass door, staggering up a bit as the laser beams disappear. He glances at Ryan.

“Ryan, get upstairs,” Homelander orders, and wow, Ryan actually listens to someone for the first time, taking a few steps back! As if this wasn’t the same thing Butcher preached so much… 

Ben interrupts, crashing into the kid with his shield as if Ryan was a pesky insect, the boy flying into one of the shelves, knocking down everything from it, stacks of paper raining down on him. 

“Ryan!” Homelander shouts, rushing over to his so-called son. He kneels down, turning the boy onto his back to get a better look at him. Vi found this hilarious, actually. She was one that would watch children getting what they deserve and find it funny if she had Youtube. 

“You little shit,” Ben murmurs to himself, fed up with Ryan’s bullshit. He looks down at Homelander and Ryan, sitting next to each other, not even having to be held back, the perfect opportunity to strike. He wasn’t going to be fooled or touched by the father-son scene in front of him. Hell, fuck father-son scenes, he hated his own father! 

Ben’s chest started to heave up again, the familiar and previously interrupted glow returning once again. Vi notices as Butcher and Maeve share a look, with a worried look on Butcher’s face. Maybe it wasn’t going to be Ben who broke the deal. Just as these thoughts entered Vi’s mind, two yellow beams emitted from Butcher’s eyes, aimed at Ben, who defensively brought his shield up to cover his face and upper body, his own beam yet again interrupted. The shield starts to give up, smoke rising from the heat it got. Vi runs over to Butcher, insistent on doing something, but Homelander’s own eyes add to the force pushing Ben, who smashes through another wall of glass with a shatter, sliding on the polished floor. Butcher and Homelander deactivate their eyes, sharing a look between each other. 

“What the fuck was this, Butcher?” Vi demands, marching up to the man. 

“Not the kid,” he bluntly says, staring down at the woman. He wasn’t much taller than her, though. He brushes past her, stepping through the remains of the glass wall Ben just broke unintentionally. 

“Shame. You seemed a honest man,” Vi mutters to Butcher as he walks past her, the twinge of betrayal stinging Vi’s heart. 

“Well well,” Homelander saunters closer to her after comforting his brat of a son. “If it isn’t the Ghost. Or should I call you aunt? Perhaps mom, given some… past relations?”

“If I had a son like you, I’d kill myself. So no, thanks,” she forces a smile in response. No true smile could go to the man who can’t get her past relationships right, the fact that he’s Ben’s boy doesn’t change anything.

“I paid you a visit, actually. You just weren’t home,” he grins back.

”Yeah, I noticed,” Vi sighs in response, the images of her disarrayed apartment flashing before her eyes, the note on the counter signed by Homelander clearly envisioned before her. 

“Soldier Boy reached out to me. On the phone. You didn’t. So sorry for the mess I might have left. I was just… overwhelmed with joy that you returned,” he says, his words ringing insincere. 

“Would’ve ruined the surprise. You only destroyed about all my personal things and memories, but thanks for the visit. Appreciate it,” Vi replied with just as much sincerity as Homelander, sarcasm lacing her voice. Butcher and Ben were settling their own newfound feud behind her, but let them if that’s what they contend in. 

“You and Soldier Boy were two of the biggest and earliest heroes of america. I looked up to the two of you,” he says, with Vi trying to decide whether he meant it metaphorically as in a way that he idolized them, or just that Ben was somewhat taller than him and he actually had to look upwards.

“Feeling disappointed yet?” Vi questions with a smirk, Maeve appearing behind Homelander.

“Hey asshole,” she shouts, delivering a punch straight to Homelander’s face. He jerks his head back at the impact.

“Not now Maeve, we have bigger fish,” he hisses as he turns towards where Butcher and Ben were, but is stopped by Maeve grabbing his arm, a fistfight ensuing between the two. 

“Hold him and I’ll phase in,” Vi asserts to Maeve as she dashes closer, trying to get close enough to Homelander. From the side of his eye, he could see Vi approaching, and as someone who knew what Vi was capable of, he darted through the roof at a high velocity, escaping both women. This was their only chance at getting Homelander, and Vi was aware of that.
“Don’t let them be stupid,” she mutters to Maeve before recalling what Frenchie said over the phone as quickly as possible. Air density, her density, some pent-up frustration. All ingredients were ready, and Vi wasted no time going after Homelander, zooming through the broken roof. 

The chilly night air hit her face as she clumsily landed on the roof of the Vought tower, staggering a bit before regaining her composure. 

“I can’t escape you, can I,” Homelander hisses, standing behind Vi. She turns around, the man standing on the opposite side of the hole he created in the roof, some wires and smaller pipes hanging loose from where he blasted his way through. 

“Seemingly no,” Vi answers. 

“I can hear people’s bloodstream, their heartbeat, and I can know how they’re feeling. I hear yours too. You’re not scared,” he sighs, staring Vi right in the eye. 

“Not when my opponent is you.”

“That’s the problem with you. You can phase through even me apparently, but I can’t do harm to you. You’re near indestructible. If you want to be on my side, after seeing that William Butcher and Soldier Boy broke their alliance, I’d accept, just so you know.”

“But I won’t.”

“Don’t you ever look at humanity, and feel nothing else but pity and anger towards them? Bossing us around like we’re below them, when it’s the opposite way. We are superior, we are above them. We are a whole evolution above them. If you and Soldier Boy would just join me, be part of the Seven for all I care, we could show the people. We could bring them the change they want,” he rants, the words just flooding from his mouth.

“This isn’t the change that should be.”

“But the change they need. Every day, humanity brings its impending doom on itself, closer by each day, by each new weapon they make. They want change, and we could grant them that without their fancy weapons. Think of it. An army of supes, against humanity, until there isn’t any left of them!” He outlines his grand plan. 

His words reached Vi. She never heard such things, such an approach. Yes, Vought did control her and every aspect of her life since she got the V. Her ordinary life was no more. She wasn’t nurse Vivienne Barone anymore, she was the Ghost, one that lived up to her name too well, becoming a real life ghost over time, sightings of her almost counting as a supernatural occurrence by now. She was afraid that if she went out to the streets, Vought would find her and do unimaginable things, knowing that she left without a word, removed her chip, too much of a danger considering the amount of dirty little secrets she knew about Vought. She lived in that apartment alone, isolated for so long, only leaving once in a while, making money by writing books under a pen name to gather some money in her later years, the money she got from Vought dwindling over the years. How they fucked Ben over. Nicaragua, the russian lab experiments leading to his PTSD were all because of Vought. It pained Vi to see her only friend in such a decrepit state because of something unnecessary. Humanity’s been eaten up by sins and destruction long ago, and she got to see it from the front lines. World War ll. Ben and her both on a murderous spree, just because somebody asked the soldiers to do this and that. She got to see some real horrors during that time, horrors that she still hasn’t forgotten, maybe the same goes for Ben, who just avoided talking about it. War on Terror, Joe Kessler. He was a brilliant kid, until he was left to rot in Panjshir  Valley. Vi was named his aunt, and cried at the feet of Grace Mallory to get the CIA’s files on his death, refusing to believe that it was true. Her blood-soaked hands. The dust and murderous gasses from the war. 

But there was Hughie. And Ben, and MM, and countless others, who were still trying to restore what Vi thought was lost, the humanity and faith. The laughs, the comfort, it was there too. 

“You won’t do it. Not if we don’t let you,” Vi says in response. All her life, she fought for what she thought was right. She helped people. MM was too, and so many others out there. She fought for this all her life, this was not the time to give up.

“So I take it you don’t join me?” Homelander slyly asks before the lasers from his eyes activate, going straight through Vi as a measly attempt, one that didn’t work. Everything but salt goes. She slowly saunters closer, coming face to face with Homelander. He didn’t look anything like Ben, not the hair, eye, face, nothing. He was just a deranged creature made by Vought in a test tube. She felt no remorse for this guy, just because they used some genes from Ben. 

“Maybe if you were so tough then you wouldn’t be playing mommy-sonny with every woman who comes your way. Soldier Boy was right. You’re a fucking disappointment,” she hisses, her hand rising to phase through Homelander, who reacts quickly and flies up to the air. For Vi, it played down like a slow-motion clip. She reached up, just in time to phase into Homelander’s leg as he was about to leave. She was right in the middle of his right leg, materializing immediately. Homelander lets out a hiss almost turned shout, the pain in his leg keeping him from getting too far from the ground, Vi’s hand still materialized into his leg, like a mutated part, grown into him. He couldn’t land or fly away, with Vi’s density changing ability switching her own density to the point where she was heavier and would pull his bone the opposite way, out of his body. Vi uses all her strength to reach through Homelander’s flesh, her fingers morbidly clutching around the tibia bone in his leg, fully materialized. Homelander’s flesh was a lot softer than his skin. Once somebody got there, tearing him apart from the inside was a much easier job. 

“You’re not gonna do it,” Homelander shouts. Vi takes a step back, her hand still in Homelander’s leg, who moves along with her for the sake of keeping his skeleton intact. He hated that she had the upper hand in the situation. Vi glances over her shoulder, the hole formed by Homelander right a step behind her. Three floors. Some things are worth dying for. 

She takes another step back, taking the leap, dragging Homelander with her. The two descend, Vi’s hand still materialized in the leg, still clutching the bone. But the two don’t fall in a comfortable position, both twisting a bit. She clutches the bone tight, and with a grunt and all her blunt force, tears it out of his leg through his feet, the blood decorating her suit and face with splatters, the supe ascending right back, leaving the scene, leaving Vi to fall alone. Dematerializing wouldn’t have helped her, a painful landing inevitable. She would’ve just had to fall more, leading to more damage. She somewhat accepted her fate. She had Homelander’s bone in her hands, America’s hero now having a gaping hole in his leg. That was one morbid accomplishment. 

Three floors was how much she fell, landing on her back, the table she landed on breaking at the impact. She was convinced that the table wasn’t the only thing that broke there, with at least a smaller spine fracture and maybe some eventual memory loss from how hard she landed. It was a blur. She weakly glanced over to her extended hand laid on the table, bloodsoaked, just like the old times, the bone fully intact. Whatever was about to happen to her, let it be death, she will happily accept it with this accomplishment. Or would I? She couldn’t hear well, but Ben’s grunts were audible. She knew it was him, she would’ve known anywhere. He was fighting, and not with Homelander. Butcher fucked up the deal, and now they’re the ones paying the price, the price being a life ruined. Things were about to get good finally, for the first time in years for both Ben and Vi, and now she felt as she was being dragged away by the unconsciousness, while Ben was going to get back to where he was, back to a gas chamber with what Butcher was doing. Vought and the police will arrive sooner or later, and if they were able to put Ben to sleep once, no doubt they will do it twice.

The loud smash alerts everybody, even the group in the middle of the fight. Ben squints, unsure whether he was seeing right. It was Vi, sprawled on a now broken table, seemingly not moving, blood dripping from her. Was it hers or not was a different question, one that Ben was inclined to find out. He trots over to where Vi landed, when Butcher’s arm shoots out to block him.

“Not now, guv. We’ll settle this between us,” he grins, expecting him to attack back, but Ben just forces his way through, running over to the table. 

“What the fuck,” he mutters to himself under his breath, brows furrowing at the scene presented in front of him. A bone and a gallon of blood. He places his index and middle finger to Vi’s neck, quickly checking for a pulse. He’s relieved when he feels her heartbeat. Butcher appears, landing a hit on Ben from behind. As a response, he just shouts back at him.

“Fuck off for a minute, would you?!”

He wasn’t particularly interested in the fight anymore, his attention now on the somehow still alive Vi. She wasn’t as durable as him, so he even considered the option that she died on impact. Butcher observes the scene too. The bone did raise some questions, along with the fact that Homelander just seemingly disappeared. He started to vaguely piece the case together. 

Vi was barely awake, fighting herself to stay awake. Ben was there, she noticed that, she’d notice it any time any day. He was the only one she had, ever. The only person to really, deeply care about her. At one point, she started to think that he loved her so much that it all started to feel like a lie. He belonged in a dream, even when he was this beaten, a wound on his face that reached so deep that blood started to emit from it. She wanted to say so many things to him, and looking at it now, maybe dying wasn’t as peaceful as she thought, she didn’t accept fate as easily, with so many untold words and things she wanted to do and see now so out of her reach. She could only hope for the best, that this was just her drifting off into a coma. 

…

“I go, and you won’t bother me with your bullshit, ever,” Vi demanded, facing Butcher in the hospital’s hallway. Rehabilitation center. Sounded shit, but nobody knew about her weakness being salt, so she was basically free to roam around and do whatever she wanted to do. Her apartment was in shambles anyway, she’ll at least have a place to stay while she works on some book that could get her the money to rent something again, maybe buy for herself while also getting some treatment for her injuries. It was probably the best for her own good, and the freezer was for Ben’s own good. “I was never affiliated with you or The Boys, and I wasn’t the one to injure Homelander. I’m free, and never to be dragged into your dirty business.”

These were her requirements. She was affiliated with William Butcher and The Boys. She did injure Homelander’s leg, who still hasn’t appeared in front of any cameras yet, and Vi hoped he never will. She wasn’t exactly free, and was sure that Butcher would drag her into his dirty business. Ben went to the freezer as she called it, apparently with the CIA. She wasn’t allowed to get him out, he wasn’t going to be free, not even with parole. At least not yet, though Butcher assured her that soon the CIA will try to let him out and get him accustomed to the modern world, which did evoke some relief in Vi. This is where accepting the offer of William Butcher can get one. 

“I won’t. You just stay where they put you, get that spine and the other broken gizmos healed,” he sighs. “Don’t worry, I won’t bother you, really. I don’t have much left.”

“The fuck you mean by that?”

“Temp V destroyed me brain. Gave me a good ol’ tumor,” he states quietly, knocking on his head with his index finger. Vi quietly hums in understanding. Both of them were tired and exhausted. Vi held her grudges and resentment towards Butcher after the betrayal at the Vought tower, but talking with him wouldn’t hurt, she thought, since they were admitted to the same hospital, Butcher now escaping. Ben was alive, maybe in a freezer, but alive. They didn’t kill him, and he could return any time, maybe with conflicted feelings, but he could. “I know that things haven’t always been peachy between us,” he continues, “but you did more damage to Homelander than we ever did, and I hold mad respect for you for that. If you ever change your mind, and bust out of that bloody rehabilitation prison, feel free to call yourself one of The Boys,” he calmly states, brushing past Vi, exiting the hospital. 

THE GHOST WILL RETURN IN SEASON 4. 

PREVIEW

“No fucking way, Butcher. You saw what happened last time, with your own eyes,” MM speaks, trying to convince Butcher that both of his so-called options were equally bad.

“C’mon, choose one. Or, now that I think of it, we can go with both options,” he grins back at his friend.

“No, you’re insane. This would classify as two people on our watch, both fresh out of prison if we get them out.”

“One’s a rehabilitation center, don’t get it mixed up guv,” Butcher gestures towards MM.

“These two are our best choices. One’s close to Neuman, the other’s pretty fucking powerful, which could come handy, don’t you think?”

“The Ghost isn’t our ally, she’s Soldier Boy’s ally. If she finds out that Soldier Boy was put into a coma because of us, my bone will be the next she rips out!” He hisses back, trying his best to let Butcher go of his idea. He seemed utterly stubborn, though.

“She knows how to reason and control herself. Soldier Boy’s in safe hands, and even if they can’t live out their cutesy romance, Soldier Boy will be released sooner or later, maybe not by us, but she’ll outlive everybody in this room to see whether he will be or not. So, who is it? Stanny Edgar, or Ghost? Or, may I suggest both?” He looks at MM with his signature devious grin.

Chapter Text

I promised to continue this, didn't I? Well, the thing is, that now I finally gathered some motivation to continue writing this fanfic!! :D

I know that it's been on halt for the past... 9 months, or so, but nowadays I actually have motivation and energy to write things (i created some new fanfics in the meantime lol, currently heavily working on "CURSE, EATEN" (a jjk fanfic, check it out if interested!)), and after re-reading some parts of this fanfic due to some comments yall left (yes, I DO read your comments, they make my day actually lol), I realized that this was actually a really fun and entertaining fanfic to write, and that I still haven't written the events of Season 4 into it...

So now after this little hiatus that lasted over a year, I'll be back soon with this fanfic! I'll try to frequently update it (which means weekly one or two chapters), starting from either tomorrow or next week, depending on when I can begin writing the next chapter!

Also, I just wanna thank everybody who has supported this book, thank you for your hits and comments!! I'm glad that people find this interesting and entertaining (at least guessing from the comments lol...)

- Maya <3

The Ghost and Soldier Boy will return.

Chapter Text

Six months. Six months that she endured in that rehabilitation center. They didn’t let her go, and leaving with force would’ve only resulted in more problems. The fact that she was mostly all healed up didn’t stop the staff from keeping her in.

It all felt so sterile, not a single element that could make it feel like home. Her knowledge on what was going on outside was limited, trying to confiscate any newspaper pieces she could, the television’s news channel strictly forbidden to tune in due to the probability of it bringing up PTSD with other patients residing here. 

Homelander has since appeared in the media, his leg seemingly fine. Maybe not the best, maybe not even good, but it was fine. As much as it angered Vi, there wasn’t much she could do about it in her current situation. She just had to wait, but this waiting seemed to stretch longer than she wanted it to. 

Still no news on Ben. He went in the freezer and never came back, at least as far as she knew. But if he did escape or was let go, the news would’ve brought that down, right? 

Now, Vi sat on the edge of the couch, claiming the free space on the armholder of it, the rest of the couch occupied by other patients. They were all fixed on the television in front of them, a spanish drama series unfolding on the screen. She only sat with them because they asked her to socialize a little bit with them, which, to no surprise, didn't interest her too much.

She didn’t want to get friendly with these people. She only wanted her freedom back. It all started to feel like those times when she stayed in her apartment for months, only leaving to get food from the 7ELEVEN across the street. But that was a hiding state, hiding from Vought. Now, she got her freedom just like Billy Butcher and his crew. Although Butcher did tell her that he won’t last for too long.

Vi, as much as she felt conflicted about Butcher, wanted to pay him a visit before he succumbed to the consequences of his actions. 

He might have fucked everything up in the end, but for a little time, he brought back the person Vi thought she would never see again. For a little time, he brought back a little joy to her world, and she hoped Ben felt the same, or at least similar. 

He might have broken the deal, but in a way, Vi admired Butcher for it. Going against one of the strongest supes, just to save the kid of his wife. The kid that came from an assault against his wife. 

Still, it was a fucking stupid decision. Homelander could’ve been eliminated right then and there if Butcher and Ben didn’t start quarreling with each other.

Vi had enough, more than enough time to think this through, always coming to the conclusion that as admirable as Butcher’s actions were to save the kid, it was still the wrong choice. 

Killing children was against Vi’s moral code, but if they don’t get rid of Homelander and his son, only more people will be victims to their torment, it’ll all lead to more suffering. With Homelander still free, it’s just a matter of time before everything goes awry. 

“Miss Barone,” a staff member greets her quietly. Here, they didn’t call her Ghost. Here, she got to be Vivienne Barone again, after so many years. “You’re dismissed.”

“From this activity…?” She asks, unsure of what the nurse was saying. 

“From the rehabilitation center. They said you’re called out for urgent matters, the paperwork is already being done. You’re to leave with immediate effect upon request,” she states, flipping through the pages she held in her hand. 

“I’m free from here…?”

“Yes, it seems. Although you shouldn’t put too much pressure on yourse—”

“WHOOO! Guess who’s leaving, bitches!” She exclaims, jumping off the couch, fisting the air as she heads towards the reception. She didn’t have anything to take with herself, so there was no need to visit her sleeping quarters. No clothes, no framed pictures, no belongings. 

Behind her were the other people admitted here, staring in confusion as they saw her make her way to the reception. She honestly didn’t care that she stomped on their feelings with this statement, she deserved her freedom by now, what’s so bad about that?

They said I’m released upon “urgent request”. What the fuck is so urgent to who the fuck that they go through all the paperwork and convincing to get me out of here?

Her questions were met with the answers as soon as she reached the reception. 

“William Fucking Butcher… still haven’t kicked the bucket yet, as I see,” she exclaims, a grin playing on her face, her eyes measuring Butcher up and down. He was still sporting that long, black duster coat and untied boots, his hair still as messy as ever. Although his eyes seemed to have more visible bags under them.

“Didn’t suffer through all ‘em papers just for you to wish my death,” he retorts, pushing himself away from the reception’s counter with a sigh, his signature smirk still there. 

“What could bring a man like you to want my early release from here? Don’t tell me you and your team fucked up again,” Vi comments back, crossing her arms in front of her chest, a playful smile playing on her lips. 

“Private matters, we’ll discuss it once we’re on our way. Get your suitcases ready guv, we’ve got urgent matters to tend to.”

“You’re lucky I don’t have anything to pack. C’mon, let’s get to your urgent matters, tea-man,” Vi sighs, heading towards the exit. Butcher, with a similar sigh, followed her suit, exiting through the entrance door that Vi chivalrously held open for him.

The outside air was chilly, especially for the coatless Vi, still dressed in the outfit they gave her at the hospital. A light grey long-sleeve, with a white T-shirt layered on top of it, white sweatpants and to match with it, white sneakers. She could only hope that Butcher’s car had some heater. 

“Where’re you parked? If it’s far then I hope you’ll be fine with carrying my frozen body there,” Vi comments, rubbing her palms against one another to provide some heat in the winter weather. 

“This is what your boy probably feels in that freezer if that comforts you,” Butcher retorts with immediate effect. 

“Snappy as always…”

The door of the red-white van slides open. The paint had started to fade and chip away, now a lot more muted than it probably was in its original states. The opened door reveals the already gathered group behind it, much to Vi’s surprise. 

“Fuck…” She breathes out, hanging her head low. 

She knew that Butcher got her out for a reason. She should’ve known that it had something more to it. She should’ve known that by agreeing to leave the rehabilitation centre, she agreed to resume the murder and bloodshed that the actions of Butcher and his team, including her, will bring. 

“Ain’t you glad to see them again? Ain’t it a warm welcome for her, guys?” Butcher sarcastically retorts, noticing that Vi wasn’t all too jolly to join them in whatever they were planning.

“I think we agreed that you wouldn’t drag me into your dirty work again,” Vi quietly says, turning to Butcher, crossing her arms in front of her chest again. 

“I know, but shit’s gone off the rails again, and we need every form of help we can get. Trust me, I wouldn’t have bailed the two of you out if I didn’t have to.”

Two of… you? Vi glances inside the van, scanning the group inside with her eyes. When her eyes land on Kimiko, the girl slightly waves at her. At least she’s still the same. But amongst the group, she spots a familiar face. 

“You’re this fucking desperate?!” She turns back to Butcher, an annoyed look on her face. “You got Stan fuckin’ Edgar on your side, too?”

“He’s one of our best cards against Neuman, we’ll let him go back once we’re finished.”

“Neuman? As in Victoria Neuman?”

The news of her running for the Oval Office reached even you, even inside the centre. If The Boys were trying to go up against her, then they really are in deep shit, even with your standards.

“I swear on my own life, I’ll explain things once we get into the van, but you need to just trust me on this once, as awful as it may sound,” Butcher tries, making small hand gestures along with it. 

“It does sound awful, Butcher. I’m not so sure if you’re someone to trust, to be honest.”

“Then trust the others.”

The others might have been just as choiceless as you were. But they really were people you could trust, maybe not fully, but definitely more than Butcher. 

“Fine. But I don’t trust you after the move you pulled at Vought Tower.”

“Settled then. Get in, and we’re off.”

Chapter Text

“So… I reckon none of you had much of a choice then,” Vi sighs, her words addressed to the group in the van. None of them looked like they really wanted to be here, it was obvious that they only tagged along because Butcher asked them to do so. “So why’re you here? Is free will not a thing anymore?”

Frenchie shrugged in response before speaking.

“He told us about a thing that… kills supes,” he drops. Vi’s eyes widen at the statement. This got her attention easily enough. She straightens up, then leans a bit forward, her hands resting on her knees.

“Something that kills supes? Even–”

“Even Homelander,” Frenchie finishes it for her. Needless to say, Vi was speechless. “As far as we know, it’s basically an anti-supe serum or what.”

“And it’s… here?” Vi questions, noticing that they slowed down in front of a secluded farmhouse. 

“Victoria was kind enough to use one of my houses as an experimental lab,” Stan Edgar replies, speaking for probably the first time since they got in the car. 

“Nice house then, old man, I’ll give you that,” Vi grunts as she hops out of the car, the others following suit. 

“I’ve rarely been,” Edgar sighed, stepping out the van with a little more grace than the others did. “It’s the smell. But if Victoria wants to keep her proclivities private, it’d be here.”

He was right about the smell, the usual stench of a farmhouse hitting their noses in an instant. Standing in front of the entrance door, Butcher slowly inched closer to the knob, ready to be attacked as soon as he placed even a finger on it. Only then did they notice that it had already been opened, as if somebody was already waiting for them to enter. 

The group shared a confused and worrying look, readying their weapons and abilities. Butcher clicks his gun, slowly entering the house, MM and Vi closely behind him. It didn’t even take a minute to find the first element that raised their suspicion. 

On the wall next to another door was a bloody handprint, as if somebody had been dragged down there after a murder. Butcher and Vi, who were now standing next to each other, share a worrisome look between each other. 

“Shall I go ahead?” Vi quietly offers, but the hint of sarcasm in her voice was there. 

“Ladies first,” Butcher replies, happily accepting the offer. Vi rolls her eyes at the statement, but reluctantly agrees. If there really was somebody there, armed with weapons, then she should be the one to enter first. If somebody shoots, then the bullet just flies through her, unlike the others. If there’s nobody there, then they have nothing to worry about.

Taking slow and calculated steps, she descended the short flight of stairs, the others a bit behind her. The dimly lit hallway was decorated with even more bloody marks and handprints, stirring the unease in them even more. Vi has seen similar and worse things. But still, it didn’t feel too good to be surrounded by these.

Reaching the end of the steps, she arrives at a transparent, plastic curtain. This, too, was littered with tiny specks of somebody’s blood. Pushing it to the side, she steps through. One step, two steps, three steps… no gunshots. She glances around, only to find that they seemed to be alone. She turns around, motioning for the others to enter. 

Looking around, it seemed to be a lab, built in the basement of Edgar’s house. The equipment was still in good shape, and didn’t seem to be dusty at all. Not to mention that the blood was still a saturated red, meaning that it was fresh. Whatever happened here went down recently. 

“What is all this?” Annie breathes out, examining the room. 

“I’m just as surprised as you are,” Edgar replied. 

“Isn’t this your house? And isn’t Victoria your daughter?” Vi questions mindlessly, her attention fixed on the metal cages, those too, decorated with blood spots. It reminded her of the hamster they saw back at the Russian army base. That didn’t end well, and she was beginning to think that something similar happened here, too.

“I’ve been in prison these past days. I’m not too knowledgeable on what my daughter did while I was locked up.”

Right . Vi’s knocked out of her thoughts by the sound of glass crunching under her feet. Looking down, she notices the myriad of broken vials and tubes, remains of a bluish liquid still there. She crouches down to get a better look, poking some of the remains in hopes of some label as to what this is, although she had an idea. Only now did she notice that there was a drain right next to it, the blue liquid slowly dripping into it. 

She started to notice another liquid dripping onto the ground. This time, it was red. Shit . Raising her hand to her nose, her fear was confirmed.

The sound of heels clicking becomes evident. Vi’s head shoots up in an instant, only to see Victoria Neuman in the flesh, standing right in the doorway they came through a few moments ago. 

“Fucking bitch,” Annie breathes out. Butcher, MM and Frenchie clicked their guns, all now aimed at Victoria.

“Easy,” Victoria eases them, reminding them who’s going to blow who’s head off first if they try to pull the trigger.

“You’re looking well,” Edgar comments.

“You think I wouldn’t know the minute you and your ankle monitor stepped out of that prison?” Victoria replies, fury in her eyes. 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to turn my rec room into a virology lab.”

“You brought these assholes here?!” Victoria questions, quiet anger boiling in her, her frustration only growing. “They want to kill me.”

“I’m sorry,” Edgar replies. “Are you upset that I betrayed you?”

“Oi, knock it off, you two. This ain’t Family Pies,” Butcher cuts in to Vi’s delight. 

“You have five seconds to tell me what you did to Sameer, or I paint this fucking room red!” Victoria threatens. The group shares a confused glance, all of them in the dark about who Sameer is in the first place. 

“Who the fuck’s Sameer?” Butcher asks in the name of the group.

“Enough,” Edgar interferes, taking notice of Starlight flashing her eyes yet again. If she tries to act though, she’ll get us all killed… 

Edgar continues. 

“So, you brought in Sameer. Smart. That’s what I’d have done. But whatever happened to him, it wasn’t us. We should find him together,” he suggests.

“You’re fucking kidding me…” Victoria breathes out. 

“If I’m not mistaken, you hurt these people, they expose you as a super-abled killer, yes?”

Victoria examines the lineup in front of her. The three men held onto their guns firmly, still aiming at her. 

“Then I’m afraid we’re at a stalemate,” Edgar states. “You might as well use their expertise. At the very least, they’re effective cannon fodder.”

“Thanks…” MM mutters under his breath, clearly fed up with this father-daughter talk, just as everybody else in the room was. “That’s very nice of you.”

Victoria and Edgar share a look, a whole conversation playing down between them just with emotions and facial expressions. Silence engulfed the room, the group waiting for Victoria’s final decision. Their lives depended on it, they knew it. If Victoria refuses to work with them, then that’s that, their story meets a not-so-nice end. 

Victoria sighs, making her way towards the way they came in, a quiet “C’mon” leaving her mouth. Even if she didn’t like the idea, she accepted it. 

The group lets out a sigh of relief, breaking their statue-like stillness before following Victoria upstairs. 

Chapter Text

The cold of the winter hit them as soon as they exited the house, a mix of snow and mud covering everything outside. Vi still hasn’t gotten any warmer clothes, the institute clothes keeping their best to at least keep her at a decent temperature, which, if she was being real, didn’t feel enough. Everybody else was sporting thick winter coats, unlike her. Still, it felt too late to ask for warmer clothes. 

The group followed in Victoria’s steps, the woman leading them further from the parked van, ready to take them on a tour around the whole farm. 

“So, what exactly are we looking for?” Vi questioned, glancing around in hopes of getting this over with as quick as possible. 

“ Who you’re looking for,” Victoria agitatedly corrects her, a hint of worry painted on her face. She went quiet again, not giving a decent answer for the others to go off of. 

“Okay then, who exactly are we looking for? A description would do us some good,” Vi counters, not letting it go. 

“My top scientist working on this project,” Victoria replies finally. 

“And baby daddy too,” Butcher adds carelessly, walking just a few steps in front of Vi, his hands buried deep into his pockets. Victoria shoots him a furious glare, before turning her attention back to the road ahead. 

“He should be around here,” she continued before being interrupted by Butcher once again. 

“If he isn’t dead yet,” he commented. Victoria, knowing that arguing with him was pointless, dismissed his remark, not even turning around to face him. 

“I know you’re a dick,” Vi steps closer to Butcher, eyes fixed on the path ahead, “but maybe you shouldn’t try to pick a fight with somebody who could blast all our heads off.”

“I saw that your nose was bleedin’ too back in there,” Butcher smirks. “Didn’t expect you to be killable with just this.”

“Yeah, I can’t really phase through my brain exploding from the inside, so I’m just as fucked as you all are,” she replied. Was it a good idea that Butcher now knows this? The thought of him using Victoria against her played in her mind, although she wasn’t too sure that Butcher could convince that woman to do such. Yes, she could kill her, but if she doesn’t agitate Victoria too much, then there shouldn’t be any reason for her to do so. And she didn’t seem like someone who would kill without a reason. 

“So what, we find Sammer, and then?” Frenchie stepped closer to the two of them, seeking a bit of guidance from Butcher. 

“Dunno,” he replied, just as clueless as they were. “I have a knack that he’s the one crafting these V’s we came for, so he better be in one piece…”

“So without Sameer, we won’t have that supe-killing thing?” Vi asked in a hushed tone. Maybe they shouldn’t let Victoria know of their motives, that is, if she hasn’t found it out already.

The group follows her towards what seemed to be a barn. Vi notices as Butcher stays a step behind, almost as if he noticed something. Vi came to a halt too, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants, deciding to wait up for Butcher. He doesn’t stay behind for long, rejoining the group relatively quickly. 

“Found something?” Vi asked calmly, the two resuming their walk, catching up to the others who were already at the entrance of the barn.

“Not Sameer,” he plainly said, cutting in a few steps in front of her. 

Butcher peeked into the barn, pushing one of the massive doors of it open. They kept quiet, flowing inside one by one, their attention still perked and ready to notice anything out of order or anything that could lead to the capture of Sameer. 

Butcher cautiously held his handgun in front of himself, ready to pull the trigger at anything that moves. 

The silent search of the barn began, each person checking a different enclosure until the sound of another supporting scientist that tagged along broke their silence. 

“We’ve got a casualty,” he stated, an edge of worry in his tone. Victoria didn’t waste a moment, rushing over there. Butcher and Vi shared a worrisome look that so clearly said “It better not be Sameer…”

The tension rose, Victoria coming to a halt at the corpse. 

“Is that Sameer?” Annie questioned, slightly motioning her hand towards the dead body laying in the midst of the hay laid out on the ground. Victoria shook her head sideways. 

“No, it’s one of his lab assistants,” she replied.

Vi stepped closer, only now taking notice of the fact that some chicken straight up used the guy’s mutilated corpse as a nest, a few white eggs motionlessly resting in the middle of his intestines. What the fuck… 

“What kind of animals are you even keeping,” she mutters as she crouches down to the guy’s level, her words directed at Victoria. Instead, the assistant begins to speak. 

“What the hell is—” 

He’s interrupted by a chicken straight up busting through his chest, feathers slowly falling to the ground, the chicken carelessly roaming more. Vi jumps up, not really taking the chance to get eye-level to that animal, now covered in blood and guts. The assistant fell to the ground, landing next to his workmate in the hay with a thud.

“V’d up fucking chicken!” Frenchie exclaimed in horror, taking a quick step back with MM, pointing his gun at the animal. Gunshots echo, but either Frenchie was too scared to aim precisely, or that chicken survived even gunshots, because it just kept running around, keeping The Boys, Victoria, Edgar, and Vi in terror. Starlight’s hands begin to spark, and the spark – both the physical one emitting from her hand and the spark of hope they had – fading away. With a shared look of worry, the others try to silently make a plan, the chicken attempting an attack on Kimiko. 

The others tried to shoot down the other chickens lurking around, the one attacking Kimiko changing trajectory, heading towards Edgar before Victoria ends its spree by letting it explode to shreds. 

“Fuck this,” Butcher muttered, mostly to himself, pushing the barn’s door open, storming out through it, everybody else following him outside. Butcher and MM manage to lift a plank up, locking the barn. 

“Is there anything we can do against these?!” Vi asks, glancing back to the barn they left behind, still a bit paranoid of the chickens. 

“Shoot them dead,” Butcher plainly replied before turning to Victoria. “Well you could’ve told us that your pal Sameer was V’ing up a Kentucky Fried fucking massacare, couldn’t ya?”

“I didn’t know, okay? Something obviously went wrong,” she retorts back, trying to defend both herself and Sameer. “We have to find him.”

“Yeah, right,” Butcher continues, “and we’re supposed to fucking believe you? You eat, sleep, and shit lies, don’t ya?”

“Right, cause you’re such a paragon of virtue. You tell your friends about the deal we made?” She argues back. 

All eyes were on William Butcher. His group stared at him with confusion, nobody having any explanation behind this. 

“Wait, wha– what does that mean?” Annie questions.

“Said he’d steal all the files you had on me if I gave him Ryan,” Victoria replies instead of him. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Annie exclaimed. 

“Ryan?” Vi cut in. “The kid that fucked up our plan that could’ve ended Homelander? Really?”

“And I didn’t go through with it, did I? Which proves I’m on the level,” Butcher countered, ignoring the words of his teammates, his words rather directed at Victoria. 

“When are we gonna learn? He’s never going to fucking change,” Annie cut in, clearly fed up with the bullshit Butcher was feeding them all. 

“All right, listen,” MM, the saint and mediator of the squad cut in, realizing that they had more urgent matters under their hands at the moment. “We got a lot of ground to cover, so let’s just go.”

“It’s an absolute wonder to me that you all have lived this long,” Edgar commented calmly. 

The group wandered even more, their objective still being the capture of Sameer. Vi noticed that Butcher wandered off yet again, but this time, she let him. Victoria’s words left a pretty good dent in her mind, the idea of Butcher being this desperate to get that kid seeming too real to ignore. He admitted it too, why am I still doubting it? 

The search came to a halt at another barn, the sun already setting. Vi watched as some talked, while some, like herself, stayed silent, lost deep in thought, or perhaps observation. 

The sudden sound of wood crashing disrupted their break. Glancing over to where the sound came from, they all saw what looked like a cow, standing there with the utmost peace and calmness. 

“Should we risk it?” Vi asked sarcastically, not even expecting an answer to it. Of course they weren’t. The bull snorted, its hooves grazing the dirt as if it was ready to charge at them any time now. Taking a step back, it was MM who spoke up first. 

“Is that a fucking V’d up bull?” 

“Off we fuck, nice and slow,” Butcher added, taking a slow and calculated step back. As if this was their cue, the bull was swarmed with sheep, flying in from different directions. What kind of fucking fever dream is this?! 

Butcher's order seemed to go forgotten in an instant, the flying sheep prompting the group to run in the opposite direction as fast as their feet could take them.

“This is fucking crazy,” MM exclaimed, taking a look at how the sheep were basically tearing the bull to little shreds with almost ease. 

These sheep seemed to not only be violent, but also pretty fucking fast, too, leaving no mercy and no headstart to let everybody escape. As much as they hated the idea, their only option left was the other barn near them, MM already tearing the doors open. The sheep charging towards them shrieked as MM and Butcher shut the door right in its face as soon as everybody — at least everybody who remained – got inside. 

Taking a breather, the group stood in utter silence. 

“Oh my God, Sameer,” Victoria spoke out of nowhere in a hushed tone, running over to one of the crates, a middle aged man emerging from behind it. The two embraced each other in a hug, a signal for the others that their objective has just been completed. Now only one problem remained: the murderous animals outside. 

Chapter Text

“I lost all the V,” Sameer began. A fearful look spread on the faces of everybody involved, their only chance at bringing Homelander to a stop now shattered. “Except for this one dose,” he added. 

The group stares, wide-eyed, as Sameer pulls out a small vial of V from under his coat. 

“Hey,” MM spoke. “How transmissible is that?”

“Not very,” Sameer replied. “Only through bodily fluids. Blood, saliva… semen…”

“Okay, so we inject it into you dead buddy over there as bait, and then we put him outside to infect the fucking flying sheep,” MM sketches out the plan. Vi was a bit taken aback at how quickly he solved the situation.

“This man is in no condition to fuck a sheep,” Frenchie quietly cut in, earning a few questioning looks from the others. 

“They would eat him,” Edgar sighed, obviously fed up with Butcher and his ragtag group. Frenchie lets out a silent “oh”, but his silence is shattered when Butcher begins speaking.

“Bollocks! That’s the only dose! I say we fucking leg it,” he states.

“Butcher’s right,” Victoria agrees. “It’s too valuable.”

“Okay, we run, we don’t all make it,” Annie steps in. 

“Darwinism, love. Don’t got to be the fastest, just not the slowest,” Butcher smirked.

“No fucking way!” Annie retorted. 

“Butcher, that would mean that people from your own group would die. I don’t think you would be willing to make this sacrifice,” Vi cut in. Although, she wasn’t so sure in what she said now that she was armed with the knowledge that Butcher was ready to give up on the Victoria Neuman files for the sake of getting Ryan back. 

“Enough, not now,” MM steps in, his hands raised a bit in defense. He was right, even if Butcher and his mindset posed a huge problem, this wasn’t the perfect time to fight it out. Not with the murderous sheep outside, ready to break in at any given moment. 

“I won’t be able to outrun them,” Edgar stated, turning to Butcher. 

“Oh, don’t you cry for that cunt,” Butcher spoke again. Vi took a step closer to him. Whatever Butcher was going through wasn’t an excuse for this. There isn’t a good enough excuse to leave everybody behind to die. 

“If you’re so keen on leaving us to the sheep,” Vi starts, “then why don’t we just throw you out as bait? MM’s taking real good care of The Boys, I think they’ll survive without you.”

“I thought you wouldn’t let people die. Going against your own ideals, huh Ghostie?”

“Somebody who leaves their own group behind doesn’t deserve to be not left behind,” she said, a memory too vivid to forget playing in her mind on repeat, the equivalent for the Nicaragua incident inching closer with every moment for The Boys with Butcher’s behaviour. 

“Guys, stop,” MM interferes once again. Vi wanted to resolve the Butcher-problem, but it was clear that it would cause a collapse within the group if she was to do it right now. She took a step back, although her eyes were on Butcher, who turned back to Edgar. 

“He’s just trying to nick Zoe from you,” he tossed the information to Victoria, the woman shooting a worried look towards Edgar.

“Son of a bitch,” Edgar hisses.

“I should’ve fucking known!” Victoria lashes out.

“Butcher,” Annie continues, “MM could get hurt, Frenchie could get hurt, you really don’t care who you throw to the wolves, do you?!”

“No, not really,” Butcher nonchalantly replied. 

As the arguments continued on and on, Vi was lost deep in her thoughts. If nothing changes, Butcher will get his team to repeat the Nicaragua incident that happened to Payback all those years ago. A team willing to turn on their leader, or a leader willing to turn on their team. 

She watched as MM gave a heartfelt talk to the arguing members. His words held truth, even if Vi wasn’t too keen on agreeing. 

A few moments later, they lost the only V left, injected into the dead body to be used as a distraction for the sheep outside. Butcher had a gloomy look on his face, but seemingly accepted the decision. 

Minutes passed since they threw out the dead body for the sheep to feast on, when they heard the sound of a thud, then a creak. Glancing over to the entrance of the barn, the group spots two sheep entering as if they weren’t under the influence of the V. 

“RUN!” 

They force the barn’s other door open, rushing through it as fast as possible, making a futile attempt at escaping the sheep. Vi could see as the flying sheep landed on the ground with a sudden thud, one by one, black liquid flowing out of their mouths. What the fuck…

Despite the disgusting nature of the black fluid, it was a clear indicator that their plan worked, the supe-killing V proving to be… working. 

If Homelander can be defeated with anything, it’s with this. Sameer will likely know how to replicate this and produce more, Vi thought, glancing over to where Sameer should’ve been standing. Only to find nothing. 

“Where’s Sameer?” Victoria cut in, worry lacing every word that left her mouth. She repeated herself. “Where’s Sameer?”

She called out for him, to no avail. Followed by a crashout, screaming and tears, the hopes of the group shattered once again, Sameer lost, and the supe-killing V along with him. 

“Not very sporting of you to renege a deal,” Edgar breathed out as MM put him in handcuffs, escorting him to the van. 

“The deal was pardon for the virus. No virus, no deal,” MM replied. 

Vi watched the scene unfold, trembling a bit from the cold, her palms trying to keep their warmth. 

After Edgar had been placed in the van, Vi walked over to MM. She was out the same way Edgar was. Unlike him, she wasn’t so willing to go back to the centre. She didn’t feel like she had to be there. She felt like keeping her there was just pointless, and she wasn’t too wrong. She healed up pretty well, there was no reason for her to stay in the rehabilitation centre. 

Still, she had pretty much nothing to live off of right now. No house, no job, nothing. 

“Are you going to place me in cuffs too and hand me over to the centre?” She asked MM, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. 

“I’m not sure yet. You don’t have much of a reason to be there as Edgar does.”

“Glad we see it the same way.”

“I say you’re free. What would you do?”

She stays quiet for a few moments. This was the same thing she contemplated about.

“I… don’t know. I would gladly help you take down Homelander, if that’s an option.”

MM looks at her, a bit in disbelief. 

“You would?”

“Yes. But on one condition: William Butcher doesn’t switch sides or fuck it up in the last minute.”

Her condition was valid, especially after what went down the last time they tried to fight Homelander. That could’ve been won if it wasn’t for Butcher changing his mind and saving Ryan last-minute. 

“I wish I could guarantee you that. But Butcher’s like a timed bomb. I don’t know everything he plans or doesn’t plan. But if that’s enough, I’ll give you my word that I’ll try to fix things and steer everything the right way, as much as I can.”

“You’re a good man, MM,” Vi starts. “Even with Butcher, you’re trying to help everybody. I think it’s an admirable trait of yours.”

“Thank you. Are you in, then?”

“I am.”

“Good to have you on the team. Last time, you were probably the only one who managed to cause serious damage to Homelander. It’s better to have you with us than against us.”

“Oh, you bet.”

“Are you still set on Soldier Boy?”

“I… I’m not sure. We should leave him out of this, at least for now. I think I trust Mallory with keeping him safe in the freezer. It’s better if he stays out of it, I’m not sure how he would react to Butcher. I’m afraid that he would switch sides and aid Homelander instead.”

“So we keep him in the freezer until this Homelander fuss is over?”

“I say yes.” 

“You’re the one who knows it. You better be right.”

“I am.”

Chapter Text

“I’m so sorry to call, shit went awry.”

Those were the words Vi heard on the other side of the line, the desperate and pain-filled voice of Hughie greeting her. No hello, no hi, just this. 

Something went awry for sure, she would’ve known even if Hughie didn’t say it, it was so, so palpable in his tone. He spoke as if he was on the verge of tears or a breakdown. 

Just that morning, MM threw up a plan, or more like a faint idea. To break into a federalist society party, saying that Homelander and every other supe that really mattered would be there. “It’s our best chance to get insider information on them,” he said. “We go low and unnoticed,” he said. 

Vi refused to believe his words then, but now, she believed them even less. MM seemed like a solid pillar to stand on when it came to keeping the group safe at all costs. Whatever happened at Tek Knight’s place was something unimaginable. 

The reason they refused to bring her with them? The other supes would’ve known. Vi held a similar status as Soldier Boy in the eyes of the supes, not to mention what even MM admitted. 

“Why can’t I go? Don’t you think that I’m the best asset for a break-in mission?” Vi questioned when MM told them about the plan. The plan that he seemingly forgot to include her in. 

“You’re a supe, that’s why. Yes, you could help us out a lot, but if they catch even the slightest hint of you, we’re doomed.”

“Annie’s a supe. She was under Vought and played Homelander’s girlfriend, you think they won’t keep an eye out for her too, especially after the Firecracker thing?”

Vi only got to know about the Firecracker incident through the news, given that at that moment she was still within the institute’s walls. 

“They think Annie’s hiding, which she should be.”

“And they think I’m in the institute or hiding.”

“Look,” MM starts, trying to keep his patience, “I get it. You want to come. I wish you could, but I want you to stay here. We’ll only enter in the worst-case scenario too. It's just that if they see you, or get the slightest hint that you’re there, we’re doomed. Yes, Annie might’ve beaten Firecracker, but not Homelander. You, on the other hand, disabled Homelander so badly that he was gone from the public eye for three months after you fucking pulled out a bone from his leg.”

“Right, but while we’re at this, how the fuck did he get his leg back? It seemed fine to me when I saw him on TV recently.”

“We don’t know. All I know is that whatever they did to recover it took three months.”

“He can’t regenerate, can he?” 

“I don’t think so. And if he can, it took him really fucking long.”

“Which wouldn’t really affect a fight between us anyway. He can’t regenerate on the spot, so it’d still be as if he can’t regenerate at all.”

“Still, I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Yeah. Considering that Homelander’s technically a lab-grown rat, I would bet that it was the scientist that got him to regain his leg. Switching back, I still want to go to this… Tek Party.”

“Vi, no. I explained why.”

“You also explained that you and the others will be staying in the van. So, why can’t I stay in the van too?”

MM breathes out. 

“You can’t.”

“Why?” Vi keeps going. “Is it Vi-proof? Is there something inside I shouldn’t see?”

“No, but–”

“But what?”

“You would try to save Hughie.”

Silence sat in, a mind-eating silence. Vi’s eyes slowly widen at MM’s statement before he continues. 

“We’re sending Hughie in. If something happens to him, we’d sneak in. I don’t think you would do the same. We can’t risk you barging right through the mansion. Not even if you can defeat Homelander.”

MM just gave Vi another reason to go, even if it wasn’t his intention. 

On the other hand, Vi agreed with him. 

Hughie was a capable kid, but still, Vi knew that if he got into danger, she would run there in an instant to save him. Even if she can’t save anyone, she will try to save Hughie. 

And there was bound to be danger at a federalist party filled with the strongest supes the planet has to offer. 

But Vi also knew that MM’s words carried the truth. She wouldn’t risk wasting time with sneaking around, not when Hughie’s life, or anybody’s for that matter, was on the line. 

So she agreed. Reluctantly, but agreed. 

She watched as the group left with her own eyes. It was only hours later when she received the call. 

Hughie’s desperate tone only confirmed her fears. 

“Should I pick you guys up?” She asked, quietly and gently. She wanted to shout MM’s head off, but now she was talking with Hughie, who was seemingly deeply scarred from what went down.

“We… we have the van.”

“Okay. Is there anybody to drive it?”

“Yes.”

Both of them spoke quietly, with sympathy and understanding. Vi spoke gently, unbeknownst to her. 

“Alright. Please stay safe on the way home,” Vi spoke. Silence followed. Neither of them put down the phone. Neither of them hung up. She still held it to her ear, Hughie on the other end doing the same. Moments passed, the call just going on. Hughie spoke. 

“Can I… stay on the line?”

...

“Yes.”

And she did. Neither of them put down the phone. The call kept going, even if it was just silence on both ends. It was as if Vi sat with them the entire car ride back to the Flatiron Building. 

When she saw Hughie’s figure in the entrance, she didn’t say anything. Neither did Hughie. But he lunged at her, falling right into her arms, shedding small tears as he wrapped his arms around the Ghost. She rested the side of her head on top of Hughie’s given the little height difference between them. 

The others passed by them, only a sorrowful look on their faces. Vi didn’t ask what happened to Hughie. Even if it didn’t leave an external mark on him, it definitely scarred him on the inside. 

They sat down in the two office chairs, Hughie sitting next to Vi. A few sniffs and outlawed tears left him, but his sobbing came to a halt. For the first time in the past half an hour, he spoke. 

“I shouldn’t cry.”

Vi’s eyes were fixed on the boy next to her. 

“You can cry sometimes,” she quietly replied. 

Hughie’s eye widened, barely noticeable. You can cry, Vi said. Which is weird, because Butcher would’ve never said anything like that. 

Butcher would’ve told him to get over it. That it’s not a big thing. Not something to cry about. 

“I… I shouldn’t cry about this. Worse things could happen. But still, with everything going on in my life lately, I just… I didn't cry much about them until now, but I think it all crashed on me now. My dad, this… Tek Cave… these past months since Robin… I feel like a dam just broke.”

Vi wanted to ask about that Tek Cave. Still, that was the drop of water that made the already accumulated water too much, so much that the dam inside him broke. 

“You know,” Hughie began, “I actually thought about you. While you were gone, and all. I wasn’t sure why, but the more I thought about you, the more I realized that I did it because you were missing from my life. So it seems that if I can’t have you to be a part of my life in the real world, then I’ll just have you in my head.

Vi went quiet. Was it a compliment? Or just a way of thanking her for the shit she’s done that doesn’t ask for a thanks? Either way, she deemed that there was no good way to reply to this. So, she switched the topic a bit instead.

“You’re a strong kid. The things you’ve been going through… it all went down fast, didn’t it?”

“Yeah… it did, I think. But… we’re almost at the finish line. I’ll pull through.”

“You don’t have to. If you want to dip out, go ahead. We’ll take it from here.”

We’ll take it from here. The words left a sorrowful pang in his heart. 

“No,” he snapped back. “I… I’ll pull through, I said. In a way, I set this whole thing off. I want to see how it ends. I want to see Homelander fall. I want to see Vought fall. I want… I want to see you all safe.”

Vi hummed in response, a quiet one at that, the side of her lips curving into a barely visible smile. 

“You’ll get it. You’ll get your ending.”

Chapter Text

Vi skipped out on whatever the others were doing for the oncoming days. Christmastime was around the corner, and she was convinced that whatever violent shit they were going to go through with should be paused for now, and resumed after new year’s, but who’s she for anybody in The Boys to really give many fucks about what she thinks?

She barely checked on them. She knew that they didn’t need her for their everyday shenanigans and plans, that they kept her around as an ace against Homelander in the fight that will settle everything. 

So, she opted to focus on getting her life back together instead. She regained custody of the same apartment that she was renting before, the one that Homelander fucked up well enough for it to not sell in those five months that she was gone — and to get the landlord to ask for even more money for the damage and the rotting food that he had to take care of after Vi basically disappeared from the face of the Earth for a few months. 

There was no happy renovating. She just got the broken stuff replaced, and torn stuff fixed. The little 7ELEVEN across the street was enough to fill her fridge with enough food for one person for a little while, using the saved up money she hid in the floorboards so well that not even the landlord found it after his “throughout cleaning”.

She got back into writing, trying to regain her way of making money yet again. Butcher hasn’t called. MM hasn’t called. Hughie hasn’t called. The Boys were fine without her. 

She knew that they won’t bother to ask for her help until they get to the point of fighting Homelander. That’s the only reason for them to call her. So now, out of the rehabilitation centre’s confinements, she tried to regain her faint composure of life, trying to shake herself back into everyday routines and such.

The first thing was regaining her apartment. Tick. Then go to a shop. Tick. Go to a bar. Not… ticked? 

Throwing her jacket on, she stepped out onto the street, the cold air immediately blowing right in her face. Oh, how much she hated this. Ben has it colder, she thought.

“Could you stop with this fuckass cold weather?!” She whined, looking… at me? The bypassers passed her off as schizophrenic as she spoke to the nothing in front of her. “Thanks for nothing…” She mumbled, walking off, making sure that I will feel guilty for freezing her once I get to sleep. I still hadn’t changed the weather. 

She stepped up the single step in front of the door, pushing it open gently. The little bell chimed as she did so, garnering the attention of the man behind the bar. She plops down at one of the barstools right at the counter, a heavy sigh escaping her.

“Fuck you sighing for?” A familiar voice greeted her. Vi sighed yet again, but this time due to the fact that she somehow sat down next to William Butcher. 

“Fuck you sitting here for?” Vi retorted. She obviously had an idea as to why Butcher was sitting here, a glass of alcohol in his hand. 

“None of your business, Ghostie.”

Vi hummed in response. The two sat in silence as Vi waited for her order to be prepared. The only sound between them was the faint buzzing of the TV set up above the counter. Glancing up at it, Vi noticed Ryan, sitting on a sofa in what was definitely a studio room, surrounded by puppets resembling a member of the current Seven. See something, say something.

“That’s the kid?” Vi quietly questions, her words directed at Butcher. He slowly glances up at the TV, taking in the show for a few seconds in silence. 

“Yeah.”

It was a plain answer. Butcher seemingly wasn’t in a snappy or talkative mood at the moment. Vi, acknowledging it, hummed in response again, letting silence sit in again. She wanted to ask whether something happened at The Boys to put Butcher in this state, but she realized that considering that Butcher barely had any time to live, he had every right to be melancholic without another reason. 

“There he is,” Butcher mutters. Vi’s attention perks up, but decides to focus on her drink. Butcher wanted to be here alone, let him. It’s none of her business anyway. “Where the fuck were you when I needed you?”

Ryan’s voice on the TV sounded in the background. Vi, upon looking up, noticed that the idyllic show had turned into Ryan rebelling against the people behind the camera. Against Vought. Oh, this kid knows something… 

“I’ve been thinking a lot about my mom lately…” he said. About… Becca? 

Vi slowly glances over to Butcher, only to find him glued to the TV too. Whoever he was talking to just now seemingly disappeared, or was just a phone call. Ryan kept on going about how his mom loved Christmas. And s’mores with Reese’s. And Terms of Endearment. Which Ben hated when they went to watch it that day right after Scarface. 

“And she loved her husband, Billy.”

Butcher breathes out softly, eyes still on the TV. A faint smile creeps its way onto Vi’s lips. She had almost a personal vendetta against Ryan, although she tried to ignore it. She knew that Ryan was still a kid. That he was being manipulated by Homelander and Vought. 

“And that,” Butcher spoke, “is why I have faith in the kid.”

Vi looked over to him, expecting him to be talking to her, but it was as if his attention was aimed at somebody sitting on the other side of him. Vi leaned back a bit in her seat, trying to see who was sitting there, only to find the seat empty. Butcher took a great sip of his drink before leaning closer to the air above the empty seat, whispering “Wanker” to it. 

Vi just watched the scene unfold in silence. William Butcher, talking to the air. Is he that drunk? Doubt it. 

“Butcher,” Vi began, “who are you talking to..?”

Butcher turns to her, then back to the air, then back to her. 

“Alright, let’s get you two wankers to meet. Vi, this is my great friend Joe Kessler.”

Vi’s eyes widened. The air Butcher was motioning towards was still just air. Joe Kessler was no more. But somehow, William Butcher was talking to him. He was talking to him as if they’ve been long-time friends. 

“How do you know his name?” Vi questioned. She couldn’t see it, but a look of fear took over her face. She had the files on Joe Kessler’s death. She was at the feet of Grace Mallory to get any information on it, unwilling to let it go, unwilling to pass it off as a simple death. 

“War buddies,” Butcher cockily replied. 

“No, I…” Vi began, only to trail off into nothing. She was out of words. Was Butcher just playing with her? If yes, then how did he know that Vi knew Joe Kessler and his father? 

“Something wrong, Ghostie?” 

“Real funny, Butcher. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing, I presume?”

Butcher wasn’t one to turn like this for no reason. Or who knows, maybe after what he said at the barn he would. 

But Vi started to consider the option that Butcher did in fact know Joe. That he was in fact there, in the War on Terror, along with him. 

“How… did you two become friends?” She played along, trying to ignore the fact that Butcher was seemingly hallucinating a shared acquaintance between them. 

“War on Terror really brought us together,” he said, his usual smirk on his face. 

“Do you… know what happened in Panjshir Valley?”

Butcher’s expression changed. 

“We fought.”

“Butcher… Joe Kessler’s dead.”

His eyes widened a bit before a nervous chuckle escaped him.

“He died there. In Panjshir Valley. He never made it out.”

“9 1 1, what’s your emergency?”

“Um, a… a man has just passed out.”

“Okay, could you check for a pulse?” 

“... He has.”

“Alright ma’am, could you please give me the address?”

“Jimmy’s corner, uh… 140 W 44th St.”

“Thank you ma’am, help is on the way.”

Chapter Text

“Brain tumor induced hallucinations, huh?” Vi questioned with a sigh as she saw Butcher’s eyes flutter open. 

“What’re you doing here Ghostie?”

“You passed out, bitch. A lady was decent enough to call an ambulance, and I came with you.”

Butcher just stared back, lips parted slightly, his brain still trying to process everything, finally humming lowly in response. Vi lets out a nasal sigh, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Butcher expected her to lash out on him, although he wouldn’t have shown any sign of caring about her words. Unlike his expectations, Vi began softly, quietly. 

“Have you told the others?”

Butcher keeps quiet. She was obviously referring to the tumor eating him up from the inside out. 

“No,” he plainly replies. Nobody in his group besides Vi knew about Butcher’s imminent and quickly approaching death. He was already through the gates of hell with one foot. 

“But… you plan on telling them, right?”

Butcher went quiet again. No, he wasn’t. But he should. 

“I…”

Before Butcher could finish his sentence, he was cut off by the private room’s door flinging open, a well-dressed Grace Mallory stepping through it. 

“So you haven’t died yet, what an unpleasant surprise,” she coldly says, coming to a halt at the end of Butcher’s hospital bed, her arms crossed in front of her chest in the same manner Vi’s arms were.

“Anybody else paying me a visit today?” Butcher sarcastically spoke up, his voice raspy and evidently tired. 

“Not that I know of,” Mallory replied. “Seems like not even a V induced brain tumor can stop you.”

Butcher doesn’t say anything, just raises his brows as he blinks. 

“We should be glad,” Vi cut in. “I’m not saying that I’m jumping in joy because Butcher’s alive, but if I had to choose between his and Homelander’s death, I think it’s obvious who I’d pick.”

“The Boys would be just fine without him, I can assure you if that’s what you mean,” Mallory said. 

“I don’t think so. Even if they tend to get mad at him, reasonably so, they wouldn’t be here without him. Butcher might be the reason why their lives went to shit in the first place, but that’s another story. I think he’s a good card against Homelander.”

“Fuck, discussing this right in front of my eyes,” the brit sighed. 

“Would you rather have us discuss how to execute you faster?” Vi questioned, although her words weren’t exactly serious. 

The low hum of the TV was still going in the background, Singer making an appearance. Butcher and Mallory continued their conversation, while Vi was trying to decide what the next step should be. Should she just leave Butcher here? Should she check on the rest of The Boys?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a male nurse opening the door, only his head peeking through. 

“Your visitor’s here,” he said, his words seemingly addressed to Mallory rather than Butcher. Vi and Butcher exchanged a confused glance. I thought Grace said there won’t be any other known visitors?

The male nurse leaves, his presence switched up as the frame of a boy appeared instead. Fuck.

Ryan. 

“You brought the kid here?!” Vi lashes out in disbelief, marching up to Mallory with quick steps, ready to point fingers.

“Stop,” she sternly replies, keeping her collected attitude. Meanwhile, Butcher pushed himself up from his bed, glancing over his shoulder to see Ryan before turning to fully face him. 

“You got my text,” he began, “I’m glad you came.”

Vi shoots her gaze over to where Butcher was standing, an even more evident look of disbelief coating her face as she stared at him. Maybe deep down, she was hoping that what they said at the farmhouse was a lie, that Butcher wasn’t actually willing to do anything to get in contact with this kid. That would’ve been a clear sign for Vi that Butcher wasn’t as far gone as everybody thought, that there was still a salvageable part left in him. 

But this just proved her wrong.

Mallory walks up to Ryan, slowly embracing the boy in a hug as she talks about how he’d almost outgrown her by now. She brushed past Vi so easily, as if she wasn’t even there. As if, like the name given to her suggested, was actually a ghost. 

Whatever was going on, both of Vi’s most trusted people were in on it, without her. 

“Listen, uh, Ryan,” Butcher speaks, walking up to the boy slowly, given that he still wasn’t in the best condition, his tumor slowly eating him up from inside. “We need to have some serious bit of chin wag.” 

“You look… really sick,” the boy says in response, taking a step closer to him. Oh, so he noticed it too…

“Don’t I know it,” Butcher says as he pats the boy’s shoulder before walking over to a guest chair and slowly positioning himself into it. 

Vi stood in utter silence, eyes mindlessly focusing on the floor, ears tuning out all that Butcher said in those few seconds to come. If what Victoria said at the farm is true, which is proven by the scene unfolding in front of her, then The Boys might be in a Payback situation. 

“You can’t go back to the tower. You need to stay with aunt Grace,” Butcher says, breaking Vi out of her thoughts at that moment. 

“What?” Ryan softly exclaims. “Like when?”

“Right now.” 

“No, I-I can’t… My dad would find me.”

“Not this time, kiddo,” Mallory joins the conversation. 

It was now evident to Vi that the two had been planning something, something she couldn’t exactly put her finger on, but had a guess about. 

“Well… I’m not sure I want to leave,” Ryan replied. It was as if everything around the group of Butcher, Mallory, Vi, Ryan – and Kessler – had gone absolutely silent. It was obvious that Butcher and Mallory weren’t expecting this answer. “I kind of like it there. Well, parts of it.”

The scene went on, Butcher quietly arguing with Mallory. It was clear that he knew about the time limit on his life at the moment, that he was too weak to argue right now, seemingly agreeing to Ryan’s questionable decision to stay with Homelander. 

The two sat at the small coffee table for what seemed like an eternity, peacefully playing some game they found laying around. In the meantime, both Mallory and Vi stood there, waiting for Ryan to take his leave. 

That was, until Mallory got a phone call, leaving the others alone in the room as she walked out to the hallway to pick up the phone. When she returned, she didn’t seem all too happy, immediately making her way to Butcher to whisper something into his ear. 

“You know I can hear you, right?” Ryan interfered. “Marvin said there was an attempt on Singer's life. He survived.”

“We know,” Butcher replied. “There’s just some things you don’t got to worry about, that's all.”

The three go on to bicker for a few moments, with Mallory seemingly urging Butcher to say “the truth” to Ryan. 

“What truth?” The boy asks, rightfully so. 

“The assasination attempt, it was on your father’s orders,” Mallory breaks it down finally. Of course it was Homelander. 

“Ryan, as much as I hate to say this, I agree with Butcher. You should stay with Grace,” Vi cut in. Ryan continued to sit in silence as Mallory brought up more and more of Homelander’s crimes, getting to the point of telling the boy about his mom. He stared in disbelief, while Butcher kept his head low. 

Ryan stood up, while both Mallory and Butcher tried to convince him, until he lashed out. 

“So this is why you want me to go with you?! To train me to kill my dad?!” His tone faltered as he began to speak again, this time a lot more serene. “I have to go now.”

“No, just stay,” Mallory stands in his way, her hands placed on his shoulders. “We’ll talk it out together.”

“I don’t want to talk. I’ll be back, I just need to think.”

Blatant lie , Vi thought.

“Listen Ryan,”Butcher stood up, taking slow steps towards the boy. “There ain’t gonna be another time for you and me. All right? Let’s just take a breather.”

Ryan turns around, heading for the door. 

“You can’t leave,” Mallory blocks him again, her tone more commanding and serious this time. Vi stood at the sidelines, but was ready to spring into action if Ryan was to play any games with them. 

The boy stared off somewhere for a good few seconds before speaking up again. 

“Wait… These walls are six feet thick… This is the CIA’s safe outlet house, designed to hold people just like you. I could seal us here, and flood the room with halothane.”

Oh. Vi knew that when she visited Butcher, she wasn’t in a hospital. When she found out that Butcher had transferred hospitals, she asked Mallory on his whereabouts, which led her here. Fuck.

Not to mention the halothane, the thing they tried against Ben too. 

Whether it was a serious threat or a bluff, Vi didn’t know, but one thing was sure: they weren’t safe in here with Ryan. 

“You planned this. You brought me here. You planned to trap me here, all along!” Ryan lashes out as realization hits him.

“No, we brought you here to protect you,” Butcher cuts in, calmly, even in this situation. 

“You’re locking me in a cage unless I agree to be your weapon! Just like they did to my dad…”

He turns his head towards Butcher, gritting his teeth. 

“That ain’t the way it is, honest,” Butcher replies desperately. 

“Let me go,” he turns back, trying to head for the exit again, only to be stopped yet again by Mallory. 

“Ryan,” she began, “when I lost my grandkids, it felt like this big empty black hole inside of me. Then the greatest miracle came along. You. I love you, kiddo.”

“Please, aunt Grace… I want to leave.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Get out of my way.”

No…

“Aunt Grace…”

No. 

“Grace,” Butcher joins in on the boy’s plea. 

Nonono….

“I’m sorry,” Grace says just as Ryan launches at her, letting her fly into the wall behind her with full speed. 

Vi and Butcher stand in silence as Ryan walks up to the woman now laying motionless on the ground, his steps slow. He comes to a halt, examining his work before turning his head towards Butcher, then towards Vi, before rushing out of the building. 

Neither of them went after him. Both of their eyes were fixed on Grace Mallory, laying dead on the floor just a few feet in front of them.

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” Butcher says through gritted teeth as he shakes himself into his long duster coat, ready for departure. 

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that this was a trap for that kid?!”

“You weren’t. I haven’t told you, and neither had Mallory. You’re not to blame. We just didn’t expect anyone to visit me, that’s the case. I decided to play along with you here, worried that if you knew about the plan, you’d blow it all.”

“I might be officially a supe, but I’m not dumb.  Not that dumb, at least.”

“Well, it’s over now.”

“You seriously think that?”

“For this attempt, at least. Now, we’ll have to take care of both Homelander, the rest of the Seven, and Ryan.”

“So what now?”

“You go back to your flat, live life like you did before I showed up. Don’t get entangled in our things.”

“What are you going to do?” 

“I’ll find The Boys.”

THE END OF SEASON 4.

William Butcher and the Ghost will return. 

Chapter Text

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” Butcher says through gritted teeth as he shakes himself into his long duster coat, ready for departure. 

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that this was a trap for that kid?!”

“You weren’t. I haven’t told you, and neither had Mallory. You’re not to blame. We just didn’t expect anyone to visit me, that’s the case. I decided to play along with you here, worried that if you knew about the plan, you’d blow it all.”

“I might be officially a supe, but I’m not dumb. Not that dumb, at least.”

“Well, it’s over now.”

“You seriously think that?”

“For this attempt, at least. Now, we’ll have to take care of both Homelander, the rest of the Seven, and Ryan.”

“So what now?”

“You go back to your flat, live life like you did before I showed up. Don’t get entangled in our things.”

“What are you going to do?” 

“I’ll find The Boys.”

“That’s… vague. Like really fucking vague,” Vi sighed, seeing that Butcher was not giving any leads or specifications on his ideas. “You find them, I get it, but do you have a next step?”

“Like I said, get that hand of yours out of our businesses.”

“You’re going to get them killed.”

“Oh fuck off already, will ya? They’re my team, not your shit to worry about. Go the fuck home before I do something I’ll regret,” Butcher muttered, his body still in a weakened state as he staggered out of the room.

Vi just watched it happen. As much as her heart pulled her to help the other members of Butcher’s crew, she had no intention of getting entangled with the brit anymore. Has he done anything besides use her ever since appearing at her apartment and tossing the info of Ben’s whereabouts right under her nose? Why was that alone enough to convince her to keep taking his side until now?

She takes a glance back at Mallory’s corpse sitting there, slouched against the white walls. Shit’s truly hit the fan. Getting entangled in this entire Homelander-business was a bad idea, right from the start.

Tossing her jacket on, she wastes no time leaving the facility they were at. The Boys were Butcher’s concerns, he had made it very, very clear. What he does with them or makes them do wasn’t Vi’s business, never was. It’s up to him.

The cold air immediately hit her in the face upon exiting. Fucking cold. The unease swept over her like a tidal wave with every step she took. The Boys aren’t my concern. It’s their shit. The affirmations kept going and going, flooding her mind as the seconds passed. It was as if with every time she told herself that it’s a good idea to leave Butcher’s crew, she just affirmed in herself that it was, in fact, not a good idea to do so.

She runs up the stairs of the multi-story building, walls dirtied with water leaks, mold, and various kinds of whatever, phasing right through the door leading to the apartment she rented. The place was still in partial ruin, a reminder Homelander left her with a while ago, Vi running past it all without paying it any acknowledgement, hands already reaching for a kitchen cabinet.

Tearing it open, she shuffles the contents, breathing ragged, until her fingers land on the tiny box she had been searching for, just one box of benzos out of the stack. Wasting no time, she reaches for the sink, twisting the tap, hands jittering and slipping off of it multiple times until she gets the water running, pushing a glass under it until filled. 

Letting out a shaky breath, she pops a pill out of the silver-colored alufoil, tossing it into her mouth and chugging the freshly poured water right after. 

Then another.

And another.

And yet another.

And another more. 

Another.

Another.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The kitchen’s flooring seemed to be rather comfortable, Vi guessed from the way her body was so numb that she couldn’t move it. For a while — precisely, hours —, nothing happened. Nothing could happen, Vi laying there like a thrown-away ragdoll, thoughts so foggy that getting up didn't even cross her mind.

For the first phase it was silent, then switching to an unintelligible mumbling, until silence sat in again as Vi’s consciousness started to finally fade in. Just this process took six hours.

Pushing herself up, she found herself on the kitchen floor, right where she successfully knocked herself out — three whole days ago. 

Her mind was still hazy, trying to grasp how she got on the floor, but upon glancing at the kitchen counter, she got enough clues to piece her case together, even with no memory of even arriving in her home. The fuck?

Upon attempting to get up onto her feet, she slips back onto the ground, legs still so numb that she couldn’t stand properly, and coordination nowhere to be seen. With not many options left, she stays on the floor, trying her best to make the numbness go away as fast as possible, moving around pathetically until she somewhat got herself back into shape. 

Now standing up, she reaches for a glass, fills it, and chugs it to clench the thirst that the three-day-sleep brought onto her. Waddling over to her couch – in what seemed like a zig-zag rather than a straight walk –, she plops down onto it, feet propped up on the wooden coffee table in front of it. Her eyes drift around the room, things still scattered from when Homelander broke in. From when Ben was still around. 

He’s been in the freezer ever since the confrontation at Vought Tower, Mallory promising to keep him safe. Mallory.

The memory of Mallory’s death finally clicks for Vi from the hazy depths of her mind, the night’s events slowly flowing back to her. 

Vi’s hands reach for her phone, dialing the familiar number of William Butcher. Seconds pass, feedback coming from the device until a female voice breaks it. Number not available. 

Of course he wasn’t, he’s William Butcher, Vi thought, trying for Hughie instead. Same outcome. Then MM. Same outcome. She didn’t have Frenchie’s or Kimiko’s, but started to realize that she wouldn’t have gotten a different answer from them either. Only one number remained that she hadn’t called yet — Annie January.

Upon dialing, it was feedback, but unlike the others, there was no voice telling Vi that the number is unavailable. And after almost an entire minute, somebody on the other end picked up.

“Who’s this?” The familiar voice of Annie echoed from the phone. Vi, a bit stunned that she actually picked up, stays quiet for a second before answering.

“It’s V– the Ghost,” she stammers.

“Oh god, you scared me. Thought it’s somebody out for my throat,” Annie sighs, the past days definitely weighing heavy on her.

“No, I just… Do you know where the others are? I can’t reach them.”

For a few moments, nothing comes through the phone besides silence, Vi even thinking that Annie muted herself.

“It’s just me now,” Annie eventually answers. What?

“Where have the others gone?” Vi questions back, fear seeping into her tone. She left Butcher knowing that something bad was upon them, but hoped that it was just baseless fear. Seemingly not.

“Butcher’s gone off to god-knows-where, same for Kimiko, and the others… got captured.”

“Don’t fuck with me, where did they take them?”

“Hughie and the others are in one of Homelander’s “Freedom “Camps”. I only know this. I’m sorry.”

“Have you thought of a plan to get them or should I try something?”

“No, don’t,” Annie cuts her off.

“Wha— Why, don’t we want to get them out of there?”

“They’re safe there. Trust me. If we break them out, we’d just make things worse.”

“Are you…. Nevermind. Sure, alright. But if anything happens to them inside, we’ll go get them, right?”

Annie lets out a sigh, seemingly not too happy about this call. 

“Alright,” she answers after a short pause. Vi was about to ask if she could keep an eye out on where Butcher and Kimiko are, but it was as if her body was working against her, no other words coming out. Annie cuts the call, leaving Vi alone, slouched on her couch, body still partially numb. 

I shouldn’t have let Butcher go alone that night.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

A day passed. Then a month. Then a year. The situation’s unchanged, all quiet on the western front.

The apartment’s been somewhat put together, the mess Homelander left now almost two years ago finally taken care of in this period. Silence engulfed the apartment, the same still life that’s been around ever since Vi reclaimed the home. That is, until a knock rocks the mute atmosphere. 

Vi strides over to the door, socks making a silent noise on the flooring. Pushing the tiny golden cover of the peephole to the side, she squints, now met with the sight of two girls standing at the door. She unlocks the door, letting her guests in. Stepping through is Annie, Kimiko a step behind her, greeting Vi with a soft smile and a wave. 

“Well, hello there,” Vi greets them awkwardly. Seeing them show up so randomly didn’t do much good to her awful hospitality skills. On the other hand, she had a feeling that they didn’t just come over to chat over a cup of coffee. 

“Hi,” Kimiko greets her back in response. No need to say how taken aback Vi was at hearing the apparently mute girl talk. 

“Since when are you so chatty?” Vi smiles as she steps closer to Kimiko, embracing the girl in a loose hug. 

“I had a year of fucking therapy and TikTok to learn,” she smiles back. 

“Good thing you didn’t choose Instagram then,” Vi steps back. If she chose that, she would’ve only learned slurs and brainrot…

“I hope this doesn’t come off too bossy or anything, but we kinda need your help,” Annie cuts in, cutting right to the chase. 

“Depends. What do you need?”

“The Freedom Camps. Hughie, MM, and Frenchie are going to be executed. We need to get them out before they do,” Annie replies. 

“Wha— why the fuck would they do that?”

“I might have leaked something on Homelander, and he isn’t too happy about it. Eye for an eye, I suppose,” Annie breathes out. Vi, hands on her hips, glances around, trying to figure out what the best course of action could be as of now. 

“Do we have a plan?” She asks after a second of contemplation.

“Butcher apparently does,” Annie replies. Butcher…?

“Oh, don’t fuck with me, he’s in on this too?” Vi sighs, all hopes for a good plan immediately lost. 

“Yes, and trust me we want to work with him as much as you do, but if he knows how we can get the guys out of there, then we gotta go along with his shit. Unless, you agree and we can just go with an easier plan. So, are you in?”

“What is it, though? The one I need to agree to,” Vi questioned, already having an idea of what they’ll ask her to do. The only problem was, she knew her own limits, and Annie’s request, if Vi was right about where this is going, was just out of said limits.

“If we have you, you can just phase in, phase out with them, and we’re done.”

Fuck. 

“Yeah, well, to our luck, I can’t… phase through stuff with other living beings,” Vi admits, her prediction about Annie’s plan seemingly right.

“You’re fucking with us, right?” Kimiko cuts in. “Was that too harsh?”

“You physically can’t, or just don’t want to?” Annie asks, on her best efforts to keep the spark of this plan alive.

“I can’t. Objects I can do, but to bring out three grown men, I can’t. Controlling the density of living beings is harder, and I haven’t found a way to stably phase them through stuff. Sorry if that’s what the plan depended on, though.”

“Alright, um,” Annie pauses for a moment, “you should still come with us anyway. Would be good to have you there, maybe you can still help. A-Train already ditched us, we’d like to have you at least.”

“You guys are buddies with A-Train now, or what?”

“Not really, but he’s redeeming himself so, yeah. Just a bit maybe,” Annie answers. 

Vi takes a moment to consider the offer. Seeing Butcher wasn’t necessarily on her bingo card, but she knew that the boys had to be saved from that camp. She also knew that if she just let them go by themselves and Butcher, she wouldn’t be too calm about this mission.

“When are we getting them out?” Vi sighs, finally giving in.

“Tonight.”

“That’s… hasty alright.”

“Yeah, well… we’re not too keen on them getting executed, so we decided to hurry.”

“You know that if Homelander ordered their execution, it’s most definitely a trap for y’all, right?”

“Yeah. And we’re going right into it,” Annie declares, seemingly alright with the possible near-death experience awaiting them.

Chapter Text

“A-Train and Ghost? Those were your Phone-a-Friends?!” Butcher rages, brows knitting together in frustration, the sight of Vi boiling his blood more than a bonfire could. He sent her away in the first place, and now Annie brought her back out of the blue. “Well, I held up my end, luv. How are you going to get us out?”

Butcher, guessing from the way he was talking, wasn’t too worried about getting into the camp, but rather about how they’re going to escape from there.

“I’ll fly us all out. One by one,” Annie replies, tone making it evident that she was just as fed up with Butcher’s bullshit as Vi and Kimiko.

“Well, that will take all fucking night,” Butcher replied, that signature smug grin on his face as he spoke. That grin Vi wanted to erase so much. “All right. Fine. Just as long as we’re on the same page here, Frenchie goes first.”

“Yeah, all right, Frenchie first,” Annie nods along.

“What about Hughie and MM?” Kimiko asks, rightfully. 

“We will get them, but nothing is more important than killing Homelander,” Annie answers firmly.

Vi sighs, already speculating that there are more layers to this plan than what she’s been filled in on. Frenchie, the guy who was notorious for neutralizing supes even before he joined Butcher, being the top priority said enough for Vi to piece things together.

“You sound like Maeve,” Kimiko comments, speaking for both herself and Vi. Annie just cocks her head to the side before retorting back.

“Yeah, well, Maeve was right,” Annie leans back, taking a big fat hit of the vape in her hands. Annie… be a real one and pass me a hit once we got the others out.

Silence followed, none of them bothered enough to ask or say more. So, with Butcher deciding to linger in another room and Annie being kept company with her vape, the duty of conversing was down to Kimiko – now non-mute –, and Vi, the two occupying a pair of beanbags.

“So, uh… where’ve you been this past year?” Vi awkwardly tries to start up the convo, but only managing to use the textbook conversation starter.

“Just fucking around in the Philippines,” Kimiko smiles back. “Killed way too many Vought guards for their liking, so they threw me there. I tried to get back, but it didn't end well. Took me a shit ton of time to regenerate,” she hisses the last part, the memory flowing back to her – although it didn’t seem to bother her much. “You?”

“I, uh… not much, actually. I seemingly wasn’t as busy as you,” Vi sighs, a faint smile on her face. Not that she was too proud of not doing anything useful as of late, but she’s done enough service for the country back in her time, no?

“That’s fucking boring,” Kimiko retorts back with a friendly smile. “Sorry if that was harsh. Still trying to get used to talking.”

“Yeah, I feel you. Shit can come out different than you mean it,” Vi nods along. “Especially after not talking for a good while.”

“What, you’ve been mute?”

“Not mute. Just went nonverbal these past years, some years before Butcher first approached me. And back in my childhood. And sometime during World War 2.”

“What the fuck,” Kimiko leans back in the beanbag. “Shit happens I guess. Weird to think that I have a war veteran sitting across me. I mean, you were alive for both Hitler and Homelander. Does it suck to be there for both?”

“Well… what do you think?” Vi exhales, her answer evident purely by her tone. 

“That it sucks.”

“Yeah, sucks.”

“So how come you’re still agreeing to Butcher’s bullshit? I don’t even know how he got you on our side in the first place.”

Yeah, Vi didn’t know why she kept staying either. Although she remembered too well why she joined in the first place.

“I just… keep getting convinced, I guess. I don’t know if I regret taking his offer when he first scouted me out or not. I keep thinking about this, but… in a way I regret it, in a way I don’t,” Vi sighs.

“Soldier Boy, right?”

Vi’s mouth curls into a faint, reminiscing smile. She stays silent, nodding along lightly. 

“What Butcher offered me back then was me getting to see the only person I’ve got left. But… with the way things ended up, I sometimes think that it would’ve been better for him if we just left him in Russia.”

“Weren’t they experimenting on him or some shit? I don’t think that would’ve been too comfy for him, y’know, the pain and all that.”

“Yeah, but what have we been doing to him? Basically the same. We unfroze him, made him fight somebody he didn’t even know, then froze him back. Same shit would’ve happened to him if we left him in Russia, with the exception that there would be no custody battle, which will most definitely happen once Homelander finds out where he is.”

“Wait, what the fuck? I thought you’re so fucking bummed out because Soldier Boy’s dead, I thought he was. Now you’re saying they froze him.”

“Yeah, the… CIA… Does nobody know besides Butcher and I?” Vi’s brows knit together in confusion, visibly puzzled at this revelation. “Our only problem is that my contact at the CIA got slimed by Homelander’s kid a year ago, so I lost access to all and any info, while I’m pretty sure Vought’s got the entire organization in their palm.”

“And if Vought’s got the CIA…”

“Then they’ve got a frozen Soldier Boy too,” Vi nods. 

“Fuck,” Kimiko breathes out, the situation dawning on her soon enough. “And I’m guessing it’s only a matter of time before Homelander unfreezes him and uses him against us. And when he does, we’re all—”

“Fucked,” the two girls say in unison, a sour look on their faces. 

No matter how they looked at the situation, it wasn’t good from any perspective. Vi wasn’t even sure whether Vought knew that there was a frozen Soldier Boy in the depths of a CIA lab, thanks to Ryan wonderfully killing off Mallory, the info-bridge between Vi and the CIA. 

“So, Soldier Boy could already be unfrozen for all we know,” Kimiko sighs.

“Trust me, he’s still in the frigo. We’d know already if they set him free. The guy’s a walking nuke and hella recognizable, plus Homelander would’ve already sent him after Butcher’s ass. But just because they haven’t unfrozen him yet doesn’t mean that they don’t know that he’s alive.”

“And the last thing we need now is a super soldier with the strength and skill of an entire army and armed with the power of a nuke,” Kimiko runs a hand through her hair. “Guessing that he fucking hates Butcher, and MM’s ready to kill him anytime, we’re dead as hell. Lowkirkgenuinely the only ace we can have against him is you.”

“Shit, you weren’t lying that you learned English from TikTok,” Vi comments at the girl’s use of words. 

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

“Who the fuck’s this?” Vi’s questioning tone sounded as Butcher and his own Phone-a-Friend got out of the van. The guy was definitely on the less attractive side of the spectrum, hair only half-there, long and greasy, combined with an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of glasses. He’s so against me being here, but looks so happy about bringing a Discord mod along. Congrats, Butcher.

“Well luv, he’s our man who’ll get us in,” Butcher smirked. “Worm’s going to dig us a big fucking hole where we can take our great escape’s first steps. Or do ya have something against this?”

“No, go ahead,” Vi shrugged. Her expectations were already on the floor, but Butcher still managed to go lower. 

“Let’s get going then, shall we?”

To conceal themselves, the team decided to come up with the wonderful plan to go through the nearby vegetation – in pitch black, may I add – instead of the main road for safety reasons. The only problem was that not a fucking soul ever crossed the same path they did, the vines, bushes and dead trees slowing them down significantly. Bonus points for Vi’s brown leather coat getting stuck multiple times. 

She kept quiet, overhearing the conversation between Kimiko and the so-called Worm. She wasn’t invested and didn’t pay much attention, at least until the guy turned around to her.

“I didn’t want to shake hands back there, mine were really sweaty plus you didn’t seem too happy, but now I think it’s time for me to say hi,” the man spoke up, glancing back at Vi behind him. “I’m uh, you know what, just call me Worm. You don’t have to introduce yourself, I know who you are. Heard a lot about you.”

“Guessing from how you said you worked with Crimson Countess, you only heard the good things about me,” Vi sighs, knowing that the two of them weren’t really on the best terms, not even during their Payback days. Needless to say, the Nicaragua incident only made things worse. If the Worm heard anything about Vi from Crimson Countess, it was just slander, Vi was ready to bet on this.

“She… didn’t seem too happy about me wanting to bring you on the show, I didn’t in the end, but… I mostly heard about you from newspapers, and, you know, things where people get to know supes from. Movies, news articles, interviews, all that.”

“Wonderful,” Vi plainly murmurs, eyes shut to avoid an eye-roll. 

“I heard Countess died like, two years ago. I just… my condolences, I know you two were both in Payback,” Worm continues, not exactly taking the hint. Who was going to tell him that Vi was the one who blasted that woman’s hand off right before Soldier Boy blew up the entire trailer Countess lived in? 

Vi decides to keep quiet about this, let’s not destroy the cotton candy and rainbow-filled world this guy was living in. 

“Yeah, hurt like a motherfucker,” Vi purses her lips into a thin line, with not much to say and having to act all cool about Crimson Cunt’s death. She didn’t miss the confused glare she got from Butcher right after saying this. 

Butcher stops at a more cleared-out part of wherever they were, the camp’s white light and loudspeaker making it clear that they were close enough. 

“Hey, uh, what do you guys think about the Lost finale?” Worm throws in the random question, way too eager to keep the conversation going. 

“Get to work, asshole,” Butcher sternly orders, no hesitation.

“Great,” Worm mutters to himself, stepping forward. “I’m fucking starving. Where do you want to pop up?”

“Bunk 19,” Butcher replies, his signature, eerie smirk plastered onto his face. Worm takes a few steps forward, now standing in front of the group, examining the area, until his eyes land on the fence, watchtowers and flagpoles poking out from behind it.

“Wait that… That’s a Vought Freedom Camp!” He exclaims, the look on his face contorting into one of pure fear and disgust.

“Is it?” Butcher retorts sarcastically.

“No, no no no no…” he mutters to himself indistinctly and incessantly. “Y– You said I’d get to stick it to Vought, not get fucking lasered in half!”

“Well, that’s how worms get their rocks off, innit?”

“It’s complicated, and I don’t want to get into it right now! I’m fucking out!”

“Hey!” Annie hastily steps in. “Our friends are about to get killed. So, you’re gonna dig us a hole, or I’m gonna bury you in one,” she states firmly, earning an approving look from Butcher and a moment of silence from the Worm. He turns around, now facing the camp, muttering some bullshit to himself.

“Drive the action to the climax, drive the action to the climax,” he repeats quietly, panting, as if trying to soothe himself before whatever he’s about to do. He turns to face the rest of the ragtag group, tearing his pants off in one swift move. 

Kimiko and Vi share an equally puzzled, perhaps even disgusted look between each other. What the fuck. 

The guy appeared to have a different anatomy than what you’d expect from a general human male, and Vi was starting to doubt Butcher’s plans even more, if that’s even possible. How the fuck does he find people like this… Do I even want to know what his power is…?

“You guys are gonna want to stay back,” Worm declares, taking off his glasses. Yeah, I’d rather stay a step away from this guy anyway. 

With a look that mixed confusion and disgust, the group takes a few steps back without further questions, watching together as Worm bends down, face down ass up, and outright snorts the entire forest floor up, leaves, dirt, bugs, everything included. The group has to take some quick steps sideways too, the freshly digested dirt coming right out, Worm slowly disappearing into the hole he was actively creating between some grunts and rumbles.

The group slowly approaches the fresh hole – or more precisely tunnel –, that disgusted look never fading from their faces, all staring into the dark pit. 

“Have fun in that shithole,” Annie comments, waiting for Butcher to descend into the tunnel of utter disgust and horror. 

“Ladies first,” Butcher counters, gently motioning towards the hole while looking at Kimiko, who just gives a middle finger and a “fuck you” in response, seemingly not too keen on being the first to enter. With a sigh, Butcher takes the duty upon himself, slowly diving into the hole. Kimiko shoots Annie and Vi a disgusted look in hopes of getting some encouragement, the two other girls letting her go with a sympathetic look on their faces, watching as Butcher and Kimiko disappear underground.

“You think that hole’s big enough?” Vi quietly asks Annie, still a bit skeptical about the plan. Not like she had a better idea. 

“Maybe for Kimiko, but Butcher’s ego is way too big to go through that hole,” Annie replies with a sigh, not too satisfied with the plan either by the looks of it. Vi just smirks at the remark, finding it funny enough. Butcher hate is always welcome, obviously. 

“Alright, um…. Ghost. You’ve got the plan right?” Annie continues, the pause immediately hitting Vi.

“Yeah, you get Frenchie out, I make sure nobody follows y’all and keep him safe until we’re ready to go. And if it’s uncomfortable using my ‘hero name’ or what, it’s Vivienne,” she replies, giving a quick run-down of her duty.

“Vivienne?”

“Vienne, if that’s too long. Thought I’d give this option since I’ve been calling you Annie for a while now. Might be easier.”

“Yeah, it is. Just… didn’t expect you to share this stuff.”

“We’re both on the same side, and both supes. Thought it’d be easier to call us by our names rather than Ghost and Starlight.”

“Yeah, you’re just… you’ve got crazy status. You probably don’t remember that interview you did once, but… nevermind.”

“That’s really fucking vague, but maybe I do. Keep going.”

“Well, there was one from 1959 I think, with Jim Halloway. He asked you lots of shit, about your powers and all, but at one point he asked you what you think about girls becoming superheroes.”

That was hella specific, Vi thought, some fragments of the interview popping up from the depths of her memory, although most was lost to time. The fact that Annie on the contrary remembered it, impressed Vi a bit. Annie continues after a second of pause.

“And… I hope this doesn’t sound too stupid, but… you answered that girls shouldn’t give up on their dreams just because it’s a male-dominated field, and that maybe it’ll be these girls sitting where you were, and… you probably didn’t think much of it or anything, but after I heard that, I really took it to heart, you know. I saw that there was a girl, standing there with the most powerful and acknowledged supes, and it kinda gave me this… hope. That it really can be me one day,” she sighs, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. 

Vi glances over to Annie, her speech tugging a little at Vi’s heartstrings. Yes, Vi probably didn’t think much of what she said back there, but seemingly even with that taken into account, it actually reached some people. 

“Sorry if this was too corny,” Annie shakes it off, ready to take every word back in embarrassment.

“No, it’s just… I didn’t think I had an effect on someone, that’s all. Good to know that I steered some people the right way, though,” Vi gives Annie a reassuring smile, her hand placed onto the blonde’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t help much with this mission. I wish I still had the ability to phase through shit with living things.”

“You used to be able to?” Annie questions, brows furrowing lightly. 

“Like… a while ago, 40 years maybe. That hiatus done killed this ability I guess.”

“But that means that we can rediscover it,” Annie states. “If we do, it could come handy!”

“Yeah, well, it took more than an afternoon to figure it out. And a loyal lab rat willing to get smacked into a wall a thousand times until I get it right,” she recalls. “If I figure out how to do it again, you’ll be the first to know. I gotta get back to the van, it’s almost showtime. See ya there!”

With this goodbye, Vi ventured back into the vegetation, trying her best to navigate the mess back to the van. Getting there was a miracle, but the joy that the sight of the van brought her was worth it. 

Minutes passed. Five, ten, fifteen, only for nothing to happen, with Vi growing more and more worried with each passing second. Who knows whether something went wrong back at the camp, she was way too far to hear anything from over here. That is, until the dark night sky lights up, Annie descending from above at a quick pace, stumbling down at the back of the truck. 

Vi wastes no time running up to her, the freshly rescued Frenchie, and the upper body of Kimiko, her lower half seemingly gone in its entirety.

“Annie, what the fuck’s going on?” 

“Shit hit the fan,” Annie replies bluntly, placing down the man and Kimiko’s remains. 

“Take me with you, you’re flying back anyway, if you—”

“No, Homelander’s there and—”

“Homelander’s there?” 

Silence sits in between the two, Annie taking off with a sour look plastered onto her face, disappearing back into the darkness of the sky. Fuck, Vi bites onto her lip, hand running over her face.

“They’ll handle it, don’t go back,” Frenchie cut the silence between the three of them, immediately picking up on Vi’s idea to go back to the camp. “Butcher can keep Homelander at bay.”

“Does Homelander know where we are? Where this van is?” Vi sighs, already trying to come up with a plan in case that deranged supe appeared. 

“He doesn’t,” Kimiko reassures Vi. It doesn’t take long for MM, Hughie and Butcher to arrive too, everybody running to take their seats in the van, dead set on getting the fuck away from this place as quick as possible.

“Homelander?” Frenchie questions, words aimed at Hughie. “Did he just let you go?”

“No, he… A-Train saved us,” Hughie croaks it out. Fuck. 

“A-Train against Homelander? You know what will happen when A-Train runs out of energy, right? That man’s dead meat,” Vi turns around, Butcher starting up the car at the same time. 

“Yeah, he’s— Vienne?” Hughie stammers, the presence of Vi clearly taking him by surprise.

“Yeah, sorry to disappoint, Butcher only had the budget for me.”

“Alright lot, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Butcher breathes out, untied boots smashing onto the gas pedal, the van coming to life with a screech as it rolls as far from the site as possible.

Chapter Text

The morning light – or afternoon light perhaps for all he knew – hit Ben like a flashbang. Bright, blinding, and sudden as hell. The cold metal of the chamber he was kept in was now replaced with a soft, warm surface. With a grunt, he pushes himself up, fingers digging into the fur spread over the bed he found himself on.

Panting, eyes still adjusting to the room, he takes a quick glance around, the terrain yet unknown to him. So was the questionable clothing choice on him, the ugliest sweater he’s ever seen with Homelander’s face on it, combined with white briefs. His eyes land on the freezing chamber he had resided in until now, its door open. Ben’s eyes trail to the other side of the room quick enough, finding the man himself, Homelander, standing there, hands crossed in front of his chest as he stared out a window, as if deep in thought. He takes notice of Ben’s awakeness immediately.

“You,” Ben breathes out, brows knitting together, voice still croaky from the long sleep he’s been in for a while now. “What the fuck?”

“No, no no, it’s okay,” Homelander defensively raises his hands, taking slow steps towards the bed where Ben sat. “It’s okay, I don’t want to hurt you. You’re safe, okay? You’ve been in deep freeze again,” he elaborates. 

“Christ,” Ben mutters to himself, still trying to regain himself. “For how long?”

“Almost two years,” Homelander breaks the news to him. “In a CIA blackstate. I just found out this morning,” he hurriedly adds the last part. The truth? He’s had that freeze chamber in his room for almost a year now. Skeptical, Ben raises his question.

“Just this morning?” He asks, receiving a yeah from Homelander. Ben’s head cocks towards the chamber positioned in front of one of the massive windows. “But that just happens to be in your room?”

Homelander goes mute for a second, quick enough to catch up to A-Train but not quick enough to conjure up some white lie. Ben, not too trusting with Homelander and his freaky tendencies, decides to ask the question that’s been on his mind since he woke up a minute or so ago.

“Did you fuck me?” 

“What?” Homelander’s face distorts in disgust.

“Is this some kind of incest thing?” 

“No?!” Homelander’s face contorts even more. 

“Then what the fuck is this?”

“Look,” Homelander begins after a sigh, the incest question raising an alarm in him. Stammering, he continues. “I… I want you to find William Butcher.”

“Find him yourself,” Ben retorts back in an instant. Vought bossed him around back in his time, he hated nothing more than that. Now this guy’s doing the same, right after he just woke up from a two-year slumber.

“Well, the people who work for me are limited,” Homelander tries to convince him, relentless on getting Soldier Boy on his side. “And… you are the best tracker there is.”

In a sense Homelander was right, Ben really knew all the ways to find someone, anyone anywhere anytime. Although Homelander was never there to witness it, and was just shooting his lucky guess.

“And I’m pretty sure you’ve got your own vendetta against him, too,” Homelander adds, a coy smirk almost escaping him. “I mean, I wasn’t the one that betrayed you. And…”

And? 

Homelander, instead of giving a straight answer, puts his acting skills to use, letting out a deep nasal sigh, slowly shaking his head sideways with a melancholic look on his face.

“And what?” Ben sighs, seeing that he wasn’t going to get an answer without asking, just theatrics. 

“You might want revenge for… someone, too,” Homelander continues, cryptic all of a sudden. “Things happened while you were gone, and… I hate to be the one to tell you, but… you’re the only person left of Payback now.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I fucking killed them all,” Ben retorts, starting to lose where this entire conversation was going. 

“Nuh uh,” Homelander raises his index finger. “Not everyone.”

Neither of them said anything, but it started to dawn on Ben what Homelander was jumping around and avoiding to outright say. 

“I know that they betrayed you and all, but… you seemed to be on good terms with the Ghost. Sorry that you had to know from me,” Homelander sighs, confirming Ben’s theory.

“And Butcher’s behind this?” Ben questions with raised brows, skeptical about the entire thing. Even if Butcher has superpowers, Vi’s is meant to basically be immune to quite literally everything with the exception of salt. The only way for Butcher to kill her off was with that.

“Well, he went up against you, didn’t he? And since the Ghost was more of your associate than his, well… He got afraid that she’d go up against him, and made sure to, nicely put it, dispose of her. I’m sorry,” Homelander elaborates, a sympathetic look on his face. 

Ben’s face slowly distorted, a look of confusion appearing, his eyes fixed on the floor. Would it truly be possible for William Butcher to kill off Vivienne?

“I just… I need you to find him, and report back,” Homelander continues. “Very simple.”

“You want me,” Ben points at himself, pausing, before slowly pointing over to Homelander, “to work for you?”

“Well, why don’t we say work with me?” Homelander corrects him. “And… I can help you. I can give you a proper comeback.”

“I don’t need you for that,” Ben smugly says, confident enough in his own abilities. 

“Well, the whole world does think you’re a Russian spy, so—”

“Okay,” Ben exhales, his rigid posture easing up a bit, now less frozen and threatened. “All right. Listen to me. I’m no ass-felching commie. You got that?!” He raises his voice as he progresses.

“I know, I know!” Homelander raises his hands in defense, taking a step back. “And, listen, I am Vought now,” he begins to advance towards Ben. “Me. So, the public, they’re gonna believe what you are whatever I tell them you are. I can resurrect you. I can give you back what you lost. I can get you your revenge on William Butcher. I can make you number two in the Seven.”

“Number two?” Ben questions back, not exactly amused with getting into the modern version of Payback, especially not as some bootlicker. Homelander just nods along, a content grin on his face. Ben continues. “Or how about I finish the job… and blast you to Kingdom Fuck?”

“Yeah, you could try,” Homelander replies, his rudimentary happiness fading away in an instant. “Who knows, you might even fry the V right out of my blood,” he spoke as he kept inching closer to the freeze chamber with lazy steps. “Or you might not. But I’m willing to bet that you hate William Butcher more than you… than you hate… me. After all, I– I’m not the one that betrayed you and killed the Ghost. Am I?”

“I tried to kill you,” Ben counters, not too convinced about Homelander’s antics. “Minute I turn my back, how do I know you won’t return the favor?”

“Look, uh,” Homelander takes a few steps back, hands raised next to his head in defense, pulling something from behind the chamber. Ben squints, eyes fixed on what remained from his shield. Broken and battered, now welded together by the big Homelander himself. Fucking laser eyes, Ben thought. “You find William Butcher for me… All is forgiven,” Homelander says, handing the shield to Ben. His fingers gently trace the surface of it, the damage insanely visible.

“Looks like a fucking kindergarten ashtray.”

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The suspicion-raising, beaten-up, brown van pulled up and came to a halt right on the rugged asphalt in front of a middle school located somewhere in the depths of Erie, Pennsylvania, the building just as run-down as its surroundings. Half of the team inside the vehicle was bummed out, the news of A-Train’s death already flooding the media, reaching them too.

Hughie’s the first to jump out after the torturously long car ride, opening the doors for the rest of the team to flow out.

“Welcome to the outskirts of Erie, Pennsylvania, a charming little burg known for its staggering amount of fentanyl overdoses,” Butcher greets his team as he hops out of the driver’s seat, heading right towards the entrance of the school. 

I hope we also came here to overdose…

The team follows Butcher inside, the man walking around as if it was his own home. To be honest, it probably was, considering that he needed a place to stay at for the past year, and this was likely where his hideout resided.

“Oh, and when you come in here,” Butcher adds in as he fishes his keys out, reaching for a massive lock on one of the doors inside, “keep your mouth shut, or I’ll do the fucking lot of you.”

The two-winged door flies open, Butcher confidently strutting in, followed by the rest of his team. Inside, they were met with a fully functional lab, a clear sign that Butcher’s already made himself at home here a while ago. The radio was on, and everything seemed clean enough for someone to be living here. Frenchie was already at the lab table, eyes curiously fixed on the various pieces of equipment. 

“You’re still working on the virus,” Hughie quietly states, the situation dawning on him soon enough. 

“Not working,” Butcher defies him, throwing his coat onto one of the chairs nearby. “Sorted. Thanks to this diamond geezer.”

Butcher theatrically raises his hand to point at a corner of the room, all eyes now facing that direction. Limping out from one of the further parts of the room is a familiar man, glasses, barely any hair, and a crutch. It took Vienne a good second to realize that this was the man they fought tooth and nail for back at Stan Edgar’s farm, about a year ago, in ankle-deep snow and murderous livestock.

“I found him not long after that bollocks with poor Neuman and little Zoe,” Butcher adds in. Vi had no idea what he was talking about, only the news of Neuman’s death reaching her through various news channels. Although she began to doubt how much of the news was the truth, versus what actually happened and how much of a hand did Butcher have in it. Guessing from the silence and weird looks the others gave the brit, Vi was ready to bet that Butcher played a rather big role in Neuman’s death. “Well, you lot remember, don’t you? When that cunt Homelander… brutally murdered them in cold blood? Poor sods… Didn’t stand a chance…”

“Sameer,” Hughie speaks up, jaw clenched, visibly troubled with whatever lies Butcher was hoarding up. “Hi, I’m Hughie. I was friends with Vicky. I…” he pauses, the glare coming from Butcher not missing his eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he eventually blurts out, although Vi had a feeling that this was far from what he originally planned to say.

“Are you an idiot?” Kimiko cuts in, tone high-pitched and not too pleased with the situation. “He cut off your leg with a hatchet!”

“And kept me a prisoner. So did you,” Sameer retorts.

“You shot me with the virus.”

“Your leg regrew.”

“All right, all right, listen,” Butcher cuts the two’s quarrel off. “The only thing that matters is that we buried said hatchet, so that we could crack on with the godly work of revenge. And, good news, Sameer’s done it.”

The group share a look of concern, the supe-killing virus raising concerns given that half the team was made up of supes. Butcher continues.

 “As of last week, his little bug is finally strong enough to top Homelander. Well, so we reckon. We just need a little… dry run.”

“This thing kills just Homelander?” Hughie cut in. “Or every supe?”

Valid concerns, the group’s supes likely very enthusiastic about the entire virus situation.

“Don’t know,” Butcher replies, a smirk creeping up onto his face. “But we’ll have a laugh finding out, won’t we?”

Yeah, I bet Kimiko, Annie and I will be crying from laughter on our deathbeds…

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hughie mutters, all hopes of a good outcome lost in his eyes.

“Will it affect humans?” MM joins the conversation.

“Well, you know, we gotta test it,” Butcher gives his laid-back reply, not too bothered by the entire virus situation, despite he himself being a supe too, just as affected by the virus as Homelander.

“We’re close to Cleveland, no?” Frenchie cuts in, seemingly already cooking up a plan. “You wish to test it on Rock Hard, non?” 

“Sounds straight out of Pornhub,” Vi sighs, already burying himself from whatever their brewing plan was. 

“Glad you’re back, mate,” Butcher’s grin grows, pointing towards the Frenchman.

“Rock Hard?” Hughie questions back, a bit puzzled at what they were trying to get at. 

“A member of Teenage Kix,” Frenchie elaborates. “A living mountain. Nine hundred pounds of walking granite. Hasn’t been seen since his unspeakable acts at Lincoln Memoir, non?” After earning a confused look from Kimiko, he continues, seeing that not everybody was ass-deep in what other supes were up to. “Oh, he skull-fucked Lincoln in the ear, filled it with so much hot cum it burst out of his mouth.”

Needless to say, this was enough for everybody’s face to contort in disgust and confusion.

“Which makes Rock Hard the perfect lab rat,” Butcher adds, just to make everything clear. “Indestructible, or at least nearly, almost as strong as Homelander, and no one gives a fuck about him. So we nip in, twat him, bring him back here for a dose of kill juice. Lemon fucking squeezy. So, let’s get cracking.”

Silence followed, nobody with maybe the exception of Frenchie approving of the upcoming plan. Still, nobody had any idea on how to outdo it, so at the end of the day, they have to work with what they’ve got — even if it entails the extinguishing of all supes. 

With the crew deciding to change clothes before departure, they headed towards a more secluded area, with Annie trying her best to supply them with a fresh set of clothes. 

Before Butcher could’ve gotten too out of view, Vienne, with a sigh, decided that it was time to approach the man. 

“Butcher,” she begins, catching up to the man. 

“Well, what is it luv? Not satisfied with the plan? Got a better one?” Butcher turns around, now facing the girl.

“It’s about the plan, but you just go ahead and annihilate whoever this guy is. I won’t go with you.”

“What now, can’t stomach a killing?”

“No, it’s… I wanted to bring this up between just the two of us, to not stir the water between the group, but… I think it’s time to check on the CIA.”

“Mallory’s fucking dead, what do we have to check?”

“Exactly, Mallory’s dead, and with her gone, Vought’s got that fucking organization in its palms. And if Vought’s got the CIA, then they’ve got everything inside it.”

“Soldier Boy,” Butcher breathes out, realization dawning on him. “What, you think Homelander’s gonna send that cunt right at us, all of a sudden?”

“Look, we’re at the finish line, Homelander knows it too. If he’s got an ace up his sleeve, he’ll release him sooner rather than later. Think about it, he just killed off A-Train. There’s a free spot in The Seven. It’s already made up of the most incompetent people there, don’t you think he’ll try to fill that one spot with somebody who can actually be of good use to him?”

Butcher just lets out a frustrated breath, Vi raising enough points to be at least a bit convincing.

“Alright, what’s your suggestion? We march up to the CIA, and just nick away Soldier Boy?”

“No. You and your group go pay Teenage Kix a visit. I march up to the CIA. I can get in with no effort, see if he’s there, and maybe try to unfreeze him and get him on our side.”

“Why the fuck do we need Soldier Boy when Sammer dear just fucking engineered us a supe-killing virus? He knows I fucked him over, I doubt he’ll let that slide,” Butcher retorts, not too joyful about the plan. To be fair, Vi felt similarly about Butcher’s, but that was a conversation for later.

“Do you want him to be with us, or against us?”

“Well obvi-fucking-ously on our side, but I don’t think that’s what loverboy wants. If you figure it out, green light to you, go ahead. But if it messes with the plan in any way, shape, or form, you two cunts will be the first to get that virus,”  Butcher hisses out through gritted teeth.

“Yeah well maybe we wouldn’t be here if you didn’t fuck the plan over in the first place,” Vi retorts.

“What, got a problem?”

“Yeah, Butcher, I do. We all do. We had the perfect chance to eviscerate Homelander, but you chickened out at the last moment. We all could’ve had our happy endings, all alive, no problems, but you thought it’d be a nice idea to fuck it up for Ryan. What’s gonna happen to him when you unleash that virus, huh? That kid’s a supe too. You didn’t save Ryan, you just postponed his death. Kid’s a goner either way. The only difference is that with this current plan, he won’t be the only casualty,” Vi storms off, not even waiting for a response from Butcher.

She didn’t care whether it hurt his feelings or not, this has been on her mind for the past almost two years. That virus will kill every supe, both Homelander and Ryan included. Now, every supe dies instead of just two, all thanks to William Butcher.

Chapter Text

“So, uh… Where’s the Ghost gone to?” Hughie raises his question, eyes scanning the room for any sign of her. The team was just about to get going to the Teenage Kix crib.

“Ghostie done hitched herself a ride to Maryland,” Butcher grunts, fighting himself into his black, dirty coat.

“Maryland?” Hughie asks back, a bit puzzled on what this meant. What even was in Maryland for her to leave so suddenly? “That’s like… over five hours.”

“Exactly why she got going so quick, it’s still morningtime. She’s on her own quest, will be back tomorrow,” Butcher replies with a sigh, deciding to keep the Soldier Boy problem under wraps for now. His team’s focus had to be on Teenage Kix. “Aight lot, let’s get going.”

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Car stolen, ID fake, and a five-hour drive behind her. That’s how Vivienne arrived right at the border of Maryland and Virginia, the George Bush Center for Intelligence, CIA for short, now in her view. During the trip, she had enough time to figure her situation out. The question was whether she can still use Mallory as an excuse, or if she’ll have to silently infiltrate her way in. She chose the latter. 

Now, while the CIA was perfectly armed and surveillanced against terrorists, it wasn’t too stable against somebody like Vi,  who on one hand knew the layout of the building and its camera placements, and also had the ability to go through everything without needing verification. So, dodging the more populated and surveillanced areas, Vi was heading through an empty hallway, mostly reserved for the massive ventilation pipes, with nobody in sight, the room where Mallory last put Ben right below her.

By now she was aware that even if she got herself in with ease, getting out with Ben would take more effort, considering that they’d lose the perk of phasing through the entire building — because like she told Annie, she’s seemingly lost the ability to phase through things with other living beings. 

Still, there was no time to be wasted, the threat of Ben getting on the hands of Homelander still heavy in the air. If I’m right, if I phase through the floor and drop to the level below, I’ll be right on the hallway where Mallory stored that freezing chamber.

With a deep breath, she changes density, landing on the hallway’s floor below her with a thud. She glanced around for anybody to be around, and miraculously, her luck was in, this hallway just as empty as the others. The only problem was the camera with a perfect view of the door. Vi, deciding to not take a risk – her just being here being a big enough one –, takes the special route: through the wall.

Out of the camera’s watchful sight, Vi phases in through the wall, now inside the storage room. The only source of light inside was a barely working white industrial light rod, most of the room barely lit by it. There seemed to be no sign of this room having any importance.

One thing was clear: the entire room’s been cleared out, including Ben.

Fuck.

Vi runs her hand through her hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. Their best option was now tossed out the window, leaving Ben to definitely be in the hands of Vought.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the quiet sound of somebody whimpering, Vi freezing in an instant. An eyewitness to her break-in was the last thing she needed right now. Her head immediately turns in the direction from which the voice came from, and lo and behold, there, next to one of the steel shelves, shivered a scrawny guy, not even uttering as much as a peep as he stared at Vi standing there.

With quick and determined steps, she struts over to the guy, who still just shivered there, eyes glazed with fear as Vi came to a halt right in front of him, her hand already raised and ready to phase in.

“Wait, I won’t snitch!” The guy curls up into a ball in an instant, now on the ground. 

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“L-Look, I can see that you came here looking for something. It’s not here, nothing is. You don’t take anything, there’s no harm and nothing for me to report. You… Don’t have to kill me j-just because,” he stutters, hands raised right above his head in weak defense. 

“Then where are the things they stored here? Where’d they move them?” Vi sternly questions, hand lowered to her side. If the dude tries anything funny, it’s never too late for her to intervene, more or less violent.

“W-what are you looking for? Vought moved everything out last year, if you wanna l-look for something, try with them,” the guy replies, still holding a defensive stance. Vought looting the place dry was one of Vi’s theories even before setting foot inside, but the truth that she came all the way just to find nothing definitely got her down.

Stepping away from the guy, likely an intern, guessing from his badge, she heads towards where she came through, not too keen on taking the risk of cameras.

“You weren’t here, and neither was I,” Vi proclaims, eyes set on the wall ahead, but words directed at the guy. “You report this to the CIA or Vought… You know what will happen. I won’t tell them that you led me there.”

The room falls silent as Vi phases through the storage room’s wall, heading to exit right where she came in — with the difference that she had to climb a level up.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Meanwhile in Cleveland, things just started to get even more bizarre and hopeless, with the team’s plan to move Rock Hard to their base proving to be quite impossible with how much the supe weighed. So, with a quick improvisation, changes were made — if they can’t take Rock Hard to the virus, they’ll take the virus to Rock Hard.

This was what led to the trio consisting of Kimiko, Hughie, and Butcher all huddled up in the most run-down rent-a-car under the wonderfully creative alias of Don T. Beakunt, created by yours truly William Butcher. This wasn’t the first use of this name, he’s done it way too many times before — and somebody was ready to use this knowledge against Butcher.

The brewing argument between the trio was now silenced, all sitting mutely. That is, until seemingly out of nowhere, something crashes right into the windshield of the rental. Butcher twists the steering wheel, adamant on getting the car into the safest position possible, the sole of his untied boots slamming onto the brake, the vial containing the virus flying from Hughie’s hand. 

The car comes to a quick halt, all three people inside panting, Kimiko the first to speak.

“Hughie, the vial!”

With shaky breaths, Hughie lifts the vial, still intact, to confirm that it was still the way they got it from Sameer, muttering something that it's all good.

Their eyes drift onto what just crashed into their windshield, the situation slowly dawning on all of them, eyes fixed on the battered, golden shield stuck into the now broken glass in front of them. They all recognized it.

“Wait, is that..?” Hughie speaks up, hoping and praying that his theory was false. Funnily enough, fate works in mysterious ways, and Hughie seemed to be spot on, with Soldier Boy rapidly approaching them, all while Vi, supposedly looking for him, was miles away. 

Butcher starts to form theories of his own, now suspecting that Vi was also already here somewhere and that she had a hand in Soldier Boy roaming free, but guessing by the broken windshield, he was quick to deduct that Homelander got to Soldier Boy before Vi did — and that meant nothing good for The Boys.

“He’s dead, right?” Hughie asks, voice faltering, already trying to find a way to get away from the looming threat coming right at them.

“Supposed to be,” Butcher mutters. “Mallory put him in ice for a bit.”

A look of confusion and panic overtakes Hughie’s face, head slowly turning to Butcher. 

“And you’re telling us only now?” Hughie questions, a mix of anger and fear dripping from his voice.

“Somebody up there likes us, mate,” Butcher smirks, seemingly already forming a new plan.

“In what fucking way?!”

“We wanted a guinea pig. Who better than Homelander’s old man?”

Hughie looks over to Soldier Boy now already standing right in front of their car, silence engulfing the vehicle.

“But… if it works and he dies, what will Vienne s—”

“Well, Ghostie’ll just have to cry about it and move on. But what she doesn’t know about can’t hurt her, ain’t I right?”

Ben comes to a halt as the car’s doors open, Butcher, Kimiko, and Hughie stepping out, with the latter two immediately making a run for it.

“Ain’t you supposed to be a giant ice dildo?” Butcher retorts as soon as he gets out of the car, sharp words aimed at Ben.

“Aren’t you supposed to be smart?” Ben cuts back immediately. “Renting a truck under the name Don T. Beakunt, same alias as when we headed to Herogasm.”

“Well, an oldie but a goodie,” Butcher smirks back at him, although his eyes don’t miss that Soldier Boy took notice of Hughie and Kimiko running off. “No, mate. Just you and me.”

Quickdrawing his gun, Ben aims right at Butcher’s chest, only for the bullets to have no effect, confirming exactly what Homelander told him back at the Vought Tower. That William Butcher is now officially a supe.

“I guess it’s true. You’re one of us now,” he voices his observations.

“Well, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Then fucking beat them.”

“Being a supe won’t save you.”

“That don’t stop us helping each other,” Butcher replies. “Homelander’s double the cunt now, if that’s even possible. He needs doing more than ever. You still fancy his seat in the Seven, don’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Ben sternly replies, what Homelander said about Butcher and Vi still hanging in front of his eyes. “We had a deal. I held my end of the bargain, and you sold me out, put me back in the fucking box. ‘Cause what, I was gonna kill some stupid kid?”

“That kid is your grandson.”

“Well was it worth it? You feeling good about that call right now? Where’s that fucking kid?”

“Homelander’s the one fucking you over mate,” Butcher replies as calmly as possible for him. “Or did he mention that we’ve got an über-virus strong enough to kill every supe on the planet?”

“Bullshit.”

“God’s honest. The things this virus can do… Fucking diabolical. Why do you think he sent you here instead of coming himself, huh? You’re the sacrificial cunt again.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“You don’t get it, do you? Me, Homelander, your old crew, everyone fucks you over. Do you know why? ‘Cause you’re a dumb fucking twat.”

Oh, he’s getting gutted, Ben thought, an entire bottle of Manhattan swirling in him, mixed with the silent grief he’s tried to drown in the alcohol. 

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Four more hours of driving. A successful entry to the Vought Tower, her identification still valid after all these years. All for an empty chamber.

The solemn stare that sat on Vienne’s face was a great enough mirror of how she was feeling, face reflecting in the well-cleaned freeze chamber sitting in Homelander’s room as if it was a trophy. Empty. 

The worst of the worst came true, despite Vi’s efforts, Ben not only on the hands of Homelander, but set out somewhere in the wild, with no sign of him in the entire building. So, Vi stood there, eyes on the opened freeze chamber, silence filling the atmosphere. One thing was clear — it was time for her to make an emergency plan. Not for Butcher’s team, but for herself and Ben. Once that virus Butcher and his friend are cooking up is let loose, it won’t matter where they go, fate will befall them. 

But she’ll have time to think of something on her way back to Erie, now it was time to exit the building before somebody catches wind of her being here in the first place. So, with steady steps, she phased out of Homelander’s massive bedroom, onto a staff only hallway used by barely anyone. 

But fate works in mysterious ways, not only for Butcher’s team, but seemingly for Vi too, a sudden presence appearing in the hall. It wouldn’t have been that much of an issue, given that Vi was dressed as a civilian rather than in a supersuit, she could’ve gotten away with it if it was just a staff member. To her wonderful luck though, instead it was a woman Vienne’s been familiar with from the news she kept seeing about her.

It doesn’t take long for the woman to notice Vi, who was already planning a way to keep her quiet about this break-in.

“You,” the red-haired woman approaches Vi with quick steps and a furious look on her face, quickly drawing her gun from the holster strapped to her thigh. “You bitch, what’re you—”

“Not so fast,” Vi extends her hand, now going right through the head of the woman’s skull, who comes to a halt in an instant as the situation dawns on her.

“The Ghost,” the woman practically hisses through gritted teeth.

“Firecracker,” Vi retorts, although her tone was a lot more laid-back in comparison to Firecracker’s.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Want me to paint the walls with your brain?”

“I think we both know that your petty gun’s got nothing on me,” Vi replies, eyes on the glock in Firecracker’s hand. “I just want to leave.”

“The fuck did you come here for in the first place? Feeling suicidal? Homelander’s here, it only takes me one scream or gunshot to get him here.”

“I just hopped in for a little visit, you know I used to live here too once,” Vi smirks down at Firecracker, given that the woman was a few inches shorter than Vi. “And Homelander won’t be able to do much against me either. He can try to laser me, tear me apart by hand, but nothing will happen.”

“So what, you just think you can go?”

“Why, do you have any plan to stop me? I can just walk out without a problem even if you alert a shit ton of people. No guns or walls work on me.”

“Sucks to be you I guess.”

“I’d say that to you, given that if you keep stalling me and tell a single person, whether be it Homelander or a janitor, I won’t hesitate to get you killed. I’ve got my ways. Have you ever checked whether the ammo in that glock is an explosive, perhaps?”

The shift in Firecracker’s expression truly amused Vi a bit, that look of fear overtaking her at Vi’s words. Obviously she was lying about the explosives, how the fuck would she get that in the gun’s magazine, but Firecracker didn’t have to know that.

Firecracker, whether as an attempt at scaring Vi or flexing, snaps her fingers, successfully producing some tiny sparks. Silence sits in between them for a few seconds, Vi a bit confused as to what this was supposed to be for, threat or entertainment, while Firecracker was waiting for basically any reaction from Vi.

“Can you light a cig with that?”

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Vienne ran through the rest of the building with ease, the bluff threat working well enough on Firecracker to keep her shut about encountering Vi. Sauntering past one of the rooms, something catches her eye — the mess on the table in the middle of the room. 

It was a round table with darkened glass. On it, two entire empty bottles, a whiskey glass, and countless wet spots and leftover residue in the shape of the whiskey glass’s bottom. It wasn’t the mess that caught her attention, rather the two bottles. Manhattan, the label on it read. 

Nobody fucking drinks Manhattan. Other than…

Ben really was here. The only problem was that it was likely hours ago.

By now it was already nighttime, the streets illuminated by streetlights and passing cars, Vi hopping into the one she’s been using ever since leaving Erie, parked in a back alley near Vought Tower. 

To sum up the entire day, she had about nine hours of driving behind her, and no sign of Ben. As a bonus, she also got confronted by someone at both places she visited. She wouldn’t be surprised if either that intern or Firecracker snitched, the only thing calming her is that neither had a way of either tracking her or harming her.

Now an hour away from the Vought Tower, Vi decides that it’s time to give a quick run-down of her findings to Butcher, settling that this is likely the best course of action with Ben roaming free god-knows-where. Parked on the side of some highway, she pulls out her phone for what was probably the first time that day. 

Missed Call: Hughie.

It went to voicemail. With nothing better to listen to, Vi decides to put on the voicemail Hughie left her about three hours ago. Butcher could wait.

“Um… Vienne… We fucked up,” the voicemail starts, a confession opening it, already off to a bad start, guessing from Hughie’s troubled voice. “I heard you went looking for Soldier Boy, Butcher told us like an hour ago, but uh… We found him before you did. And… I’m sorry. He’s gone. Like… rest in peace gone. I’m… sorry.”

The voicemail goes quiet, and so does Vi. Her eyes were fixed on the steering wheel in front of her, Hughie’s words slowly dawning on her. What?

Her chest tightened, hands trembling on the steering wheel and mouth agape, still trying to process it. Hughie had no reason to be lying. But he was… right? Ben Monroe can’t be dead…

Chapter Text

“Are you fucking retarded?!” 

Hughie stood with his jaw clenched, eyes avoiding Butcher’s words, as if the lack of eye contact would put an end to the degradation, the words cutting his skin like sharpened pieces of glass. Still, Butcher continues.

“I fucking told you in the car that what Ghostie doesn’t know about can’t hurt her. Yet you go, phone her up, telling her that Soldier Cunt’s on ice. What the fuck was the plan there, ey?”

“I didn’t tell her that it was because of the virus,” Hughie tries to bring something, anything to his defense. Yes, he was right, the call he made was vague as hell, with him never specifying what exactly caused Soldier Boy’s end. Though, he was most certain that the truth would come to light sooner or later, and that Vienne won’t be overjoyed about it.

“Yeah, well what do you think she will do now that she knows the guy’s gone? You think she’ll still tag along with us, knowing that the lad she’s been after is fucking dead?”

“Vienne wouldn’t give up on us like that,” Hughie tries to counter, although he himself had his doubts about his statement. She hadn’t let them down so far, but Hughie was aware that her and Ben were more than just work buddies working under Vought once. 

“You think so? How wonderful that you know her so well!” Butcher exclaims, voice laced with pure sarcasm and mockery. “She had one person to keep going for, and we smoked him out.”

“She would’ve found out either way, even if I didn’t call her,” Hughie replies, slowly losing composure. While Butcher brought up good points, he was still Butcher, who had the wonderful idea of Soldier Boy’s murder in the first place. Him acting like a saint all of a sudden just raised Hughie’s temper, about to shoot out the ceiling. 

“No, she wouldn’t have. We could’ve just denied seeing Soldier Cunt, let her believe that he ran off to Fuckville, end of the story. We’re about to fucking go up against Homelander. Even if I want to gut her out, I’ll at least admit that she could be one of our greatest assets against that cunt. She lost Soldier Boy, we’ll lose her. Wonderful fucking work, Hughie,” Butcher starts clapping, the movements way too sloppy to feel sincere. He sighs, patting Hughie’s shoulder as he passes by him, leaving the boy standing alone.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The roadside motel’s door closes with a click, Vienne greeted by the dead silence of the freshly rented room she just stepped into. The flooring was warm brown, wooden tiles beneath her. Two beds, both white as snow with fresh sheets neatly arranged. The walls were a plain white, some random painting above each bed. There was a table with two chairs a bit further in, and a minimal bathroom with a toilet, sink, and tiny shower. Budget’s been tight lately or whatever.

The car was parked in the motel’s parking lot, almost right outside Vi’s door. The motel was only for the night, with Vi not too keen on driving at night, especially not with the overbearing amount of thoughts filling her head. So, the best choice was to rest up somewhere for the night, in hopes that a good night’s sleep will sober her up, and that the daylight would lessen her chances of crashing the car. 

She throws the plastic bag onto the table, shuffling through the limited amount of items. A box of benzos, and a bottle of alcohol. Wonderful loot. Healthy, energizing, and just what she needed. Taking both out of the crinkling plastic bag, she saunters over to one of the beds, tossing both onto the sheets before falling onto the bed herself, face-first, practically colliding with the soft cloth. Nothing happens for a few moments. Silence and stillness. 

Until it’s broken by the sobs of Vienne. First just barely any noise, sniffles, whimpering, hums. That doesn’t last long, the situation quickly escalating into a full blown screaming and howling, pulse hammering in her ears, the waterworks turning on in an instant. If there was one thing the V didn’t fry out of her, it was the anxiety and overwhelmedness. 

The calm facade she kept with the cashier at the gas station when getting the bottle of alcohol she now laid beside was now gone, the events of the past days all condensing in a sudden, the news of Ben gone a good enough breaking point to it all. The virus was going to kill her either way, but she hoped that if anything, she’d at least get a chance to talk things over with Ben. Better luck next time. 

Burying herself into the sheets of the bed only lasted so long before she reached for the bottle, taking a big swig right from the bottle without pouring it out into a glass. A benzo right after, just for good measure. Good thing alcohol and benzos reinforce each other. If one of them doesn’t do enough damage, then the combination surely will do its job.

It doesn’t take long for Vi to reposition herself from the bed onto the ground, the bottle half empty, mind slowly hazed and emptied, an hour of grieving behind her.

“Hi Vienne.”

The voice snaps Vi out of her thoughts, eyes slowly widening, gaze drifting from the ground onto the other bed nearby. Fuck.

“No, no no, fuck, no—”

“What, not happy to see me?” 

“Other people vomit and cry when they get drunk, but what, I turn schizo?” Vi mumbles, eyes fixed on the feminine figure sitting on the bed with a calm smirk on her face. There sat her former Payback member, short red hair neatly styled and makeup flawless, stark contrast to whatever disheveled state Vi was in at the moment. 

“Vienne,” she begins with a disappointed sigh, “what the fuck is going on with you?”

“I think the bigger question is why I’m hallucinating you out of all people,” Vi sighs, hand running through her hair, as if it wasn’t messy enough yet. “I know you’re dead Shirley, I saw Ben blowing up your entire fucking trailer. Came here to taunt me? Guilt-trip me now that I’m drunk as a skunk?”

“I think we both know why I’m here out of all people,” Shirley, better known to the public as Crimson Countess, replied. “I say the shit you don’t want to say, I always did. I’m the harsh truth to your sugarcoated words. And now, I think it’s time for us to talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“Everything. For starters, we can talk about what the fuck is happening with you right now.”

“Ben died. That’s what,” Vi scoffs, index finger circling the rim of the alcohol bottle. Yes, there would’ve been better ways to handle her emotions, but this was what she could manage right now.

“Boo hoo, he’s gone, how wonderful that you solve it by slouching in a run-down motel on the side of some highway,” Countess retorts, seemingly not caring about whether her words hurt Vi or not. No pity, no empathy left for her to give to Vi. “You’ve got shit to do, yet stall in here. The Boys still need you against Homelander, and you’re doing nothing to help.”

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck you’re on or why you’re here, but just know, I don’t owe jack shit to Butcher,” Vi hisses back while Countess just stared. 

“You don’t owe anything to William Butcher, but there are more people in The Boys besides him. Or am I wrong?”

Silence sits in between the two, Vi accepting that Countess was right. But still, even to the others, she didn’t owe anything at all. She tagged along so far because she thought this was the right thing, that getting rid of Homelander is the best they can do.

“What, you’ll just sulk while the rest of the world burns up or what?” Countess continues, voice dripping with venom, ready to poison Vienne. “Get yourself a house with a picket fence, live the American Dream?”

“Your supposed American dream’s a copy-paste suburban life, marriage, and the loss of my identity as I take up my husband’s shitty last name while my real name is reduced to Mom. For me, the American nightmare’s a more fitting name for that,” Vi retorts, words sharp like a knife as she cuts back. 

This vision of Countess was the last thing she needed, let alone this vision giving her a philosophy lesson and trying to make her think while drunk.

“What’s your plan then? Let’s say Butcher and his team win, Vought’s down, you survive, what do you do?”

Silence sits between them like a third, uninvited guest. A little idea older than Countess cracks up from Vi’s fading memories, her lip curling into a faint, almost defeated grin.

“I won’t,” Vi sighs. “But if I did… Atlanta or Nebraska,” Vienne quietly replies, eyes on the wooden floor beneath her, as if it was a canvas, the image in her head painted onto it. “You know that tall, greenish-yellowish soft grass, in the middle of those unexplored fields? Maybe a smaller forest, just some trees around instead of your picket fence. That chipping, white-painted wooden house with the porch and a rocking chair on it. That’s what I want after this shit’s through and over with. My house. My peace.”

“So your first plan’s to die, how wonderful. Martyrdom won’t save you,” Countess scoffs, a cocky smile sitting out on her face. “You can swing by your neck with the hope that someone cares, but dying won’t make you a hero. Only if Vought wants it that way, and knowing how they despise you, they won’t do jack shit for you. But I didn’t expect you to fold under no pressure, yapping on like that.”

Vi draws in a shaky breath, letting it out slow, tears still welling up in her eyes just like for the past hour or so. Still, with how weird this entire scenario was and with the image of her ideal future in her mind, she couldn’t help but smile a little. 

“I think we both know that if you were actually here, flesh and blood, I wouldn’t have said shit. Only reason I’m being honest with you is ‘cause I know you’re not real. That you won’t air my secrets and words out, not to the press, not to Vought, not to fucking Payback.”

“Vought promoted us like we were sisters. Like we were so close. You don’t trust your sister, or what now?” Countess pouts childishly, the expression exaggerated purely for dramatic purposes. Vi slowly glances back up at her, the soft smile now gone.

“Good fucking thing it was for promo only. I would’ve murdered you years ago if we were actually siblings,” Vi mutters, subsequently taking a thick swig from the now almost-empty bottle.

“Blessed be the daughters of Cain I suppose. And what, you move to that house, live alone, wait for the imminent rot to get you? Oh, wait, you’ve got longevity, don’t you?” Countess leans forward, just a little, barely noticeable, but still enough for Vi to lean closer to the wall behind her, as if trying to keep whatever distance was between them. “The V? I saw all that old footage of you, you looked the exact same in the war as you did when you appeared at my trailer and fucked up my hand. You’ll live forever, I suppose? I—”

“You want me dead so bad, why didn’t you kill me? You had plenty of chances,” Vi cuts the woman off, temper boiling through the roof by now.

“Honey, we were planning to,” Countess’s tone shifts, that edge she had until now disappearing in an instant, that faux sweetness taking its place, poison disguised as a treat. “Who do you think was going to be next after Soldier Boy?”

Vi’s brows furrow, slow as realization begins to dawn on her, the pieces of the imaginary puzzle all shuffling into place. Her voice shifted, that alcohol-induced smugness fading away in an instant.

“What?” She questions, sounding more like a pathetic, scared kid rather than a grown woman.

“Soldier Boy was just the first step. The cog to get the machine moving. Vought wasn’t too fond of you either, how you refused to work with them properly, how you just kept declining all that propaganda and promotional bullshit they wanted you to do, how you always kept sniffing around. We were just about to get our paycheck to get you, but you left. I never knew if you were aware of what we were planning, or if you were just lucky. But guessing by the awful look on your face, it seems like it was just your luck that was in.”

“You were… paid to get rid of me?” Uncertainty rang in Vi’s tone, words coming out shaky and uneven. Disposing of Ben for free, and of her for a sum. 

“Would’ve been, but you know, you left just in time, so no cash for us,” Countess sighs, visibly distressed at the missed opportunity. “Congracts. Bonus points for Payback disbanding almost right after, and Vought throwing us away like trash only to replace us with those lab rats.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re a lab rat too. Everyone after the fifties is one,” Vi mutters, eyeing Countess up and down, the memory of Vought raising The Seven – or at least the prototype of it with different members – from Payback’s ashes still vivid in her mind.

“Oh, right, you’re not. You’re better, no? The original. The one who lives forever,” Countess pushes herself up from the bed where she sat until now, taking slow and almost calculated steps as she approached Vi, coming to a halt right in front of her. 

Crouching down, she comes face to face with the Ghost, nose almost pressing to hers. Her tone shifts, now lower, that hint of menace oozing from it like a strong stench.

“You can run away from Vought, from New York, to whatever ranch house you want. You’ll forget everything eventually anyway, right?” Countess whispers, a content smirk creeping onto her face, eyes intently fixed on Vi, who just sat there, jaw clenched, staring right back at Countess. “One day, everything will fade from that pretty little head of yours. The wars, that Philadelphia back alley, Vought, Private Angel, The Boys, me, my death, Ben, his death… By the time the apocalypse gets you in a thousand or hundred years, you’ll have already forgotten everyone.”

One thing stuck out to Vi from Countess’s list — something the redhead wasn’t supposed to know, at least Vi never told her.

“How do you know about the alley..?” Vi’s tone shifts, ears hammering louder and louder, words coming out sharper than she planned. “I never fucking told you that. Or Vought.”

“Darling, my hatred for you used to know no bounds. You really thought I wouldn’t try collecting as much dirt on you as I could?” Countess leans back, hand on her knee as she pushes herself back into a standing position. Her figure towered over Vienne slouching against the wall, eyes red from the tears she shed, face still wet from them.

“Fuck you, this shit was never even documented. Besides, you really thought that it’s going to be blackmail material or some shit?” Vi spat out, her blood slowly beginning to boil.

“I never said it was for blackmail. But the day I found it,” Countess breathes in, eyes on the ceiling before falling back onto Vi, “I was the happiest person on the whole planet,” she breathes out. “The Ghost, who was the most untouchable person I’ve known, in a situation where she was, for the first time, vulnerable. It was the first time that I saw that you, contrary to what everyone says, can be broken.” 

The silence in the air between them was thick and heavy, neither of them saying anything besides this. Countess, or at least the vision of her, got exactly what she wanted — Vi, riled up, now aware that Countess had access to one of the few things Vi tried to keep under wraps, to bury as deep as possible in the sea of her memories.

“Surprised you never brought it up while you were alive,” Vi finally mutters, voice still creaky and unstable. This entire fiasco with the Countess hallucination was just proof that just when you think things can’t get worse, life proves you wrong.

“Oh, trust me, I wanted to. Sadly I thought it’s best to wait for the right moment, and that never came. So, in a nutshell, I never got to use it. I would’ve, though. It wasn’t even about the case itself, it was that you tried so hard to keep it hidden,” Countess lets out a low chuckle, amused by her own antics. 

“Yeah, no wonder you’re desensitized. You’ve seen worse, no? SupePorn.com,” Vienne’s cheeky smirk returns out of nowhere, the time to retort finally arriving. Somebody had to remind Countess that she wasn’t a saint either. “To be honest, I had no idea that something like that existed, until I knocked that ring light of yours over and had to end the call you were on, with the guy on the other end still beating his meat.”

“You mean until you blasted my hand off and left me to die?” Countess snaps back, still holding grudges. Rightfully so, she could’ve lived longer if it wasn’t for Vi tackling her down and offering her to be free prey for Ben. 

“Yeah, you can say,” Vienne’s attitude changes entirely compared to a literal minute ago, the sulking now nowhere to be seen. “The difference between us is that you are ready to get railed by anyone anytime, that’s what I was getting at with this I think,” Vi snickers to herself, shoulders leaning forward and head hanging low as the quiet sounds escape her. “All the videos, lives, payments you received can be traced back to you, and you think you can blackmail me? God, I would kill myself if you were also my sleep paralysis demon or something.”

“You’re drunk,” Countess firmly states, a look of disgust on her face as she listened to Vi’s mindless rambling, the girl still laughing by herself in the background as if she was on a comedy show.

“No shit Sherlock!” Vi giggles, way too amused by herself, her alcohol-hazed mind barely working by now. “Never in my 106 years would’ve I thought that I’d hallucinate you as company when I’m at my lowest.”

“I can’t tell if it’s you who’s crazier, or Mindstorm,” Countess sighs, disappointment mixing with annoyance.

“I can’t tell if you’re a bigger whore, or Bonnie Blue,” Vi counters almost immediately, a content grin on her face as if it was telling hallu-Countess that if she plays dirty, Vi will make sure to play even dirtier. That she’ll uber whatever the next words leaving Countess’ mouth will be. 

Countess, obviously not letting this dignity-destroying wisecrack slide, retorts immediately.

“At least I’ve killed less people.”

Vi allowed the barest hint of laughter to escape her before she herself came up with her own witty little remark.

“At least I haven’t sold my friends out to the Russians.”

“At least I didn’t act like a lesbian.”

“At least I don’t have a red bob.”

“At least I don’t play Fortnite.”

“At least… Hey. Don’t fucking diss Fortnite. You too would be bored as hell during a forty-year hiatus,” Vi’s voice falters, returning to a more quiet one. For a second, that is, before getting loud again. “But at least I don’t fuck chimps!”

“Oh, you b—”

“Gonna call me a bitch?” Vi cuts her off in an instant, voice raised all of a sudden. “Whore…” She whispers the last part with a subtle smirk, but just enough for Countess to hear. 

“Fuck you, you’re evil, you know that?” Countess disses Vi like a mother scolding her child. With the difference that the older one, Vi, was getting scolded by the youngster, Countess. “You’re drunk, you’re grieving, and you’re spitting bullshit. Is this some kind of fucked-up coping mechanism for you, or what?”

“Might be,” Vi just snickers at herself, clearly not in her right mind tonight. Posture loose and reminiscent of a ragdoll thrown into a corner, she just sat there, slumped on the floor with her back against the crumbling wallpaper, head thrown back. “Too bad I just ran out of fucks to give. Cope with it.”

“You should be the one fucking coping, in healthier ways,” Countess comments, as if trying to steer Vienne onto a better road, so to say. 

“So fucking sorry you got successfully ragebaited I guess,” Vi sighs, hand running over her face, as if that’ll miraculously sober her up. The feeling swirling in her both concerned and calmed her. It was happiness mixed with hints of paranoia and grief, the two opposites mixing like oil and water — too bad oil and water don’t mix. 

“So, your next step?” Countess switches, as if her personality just took an entire turn, that sly, fox-like side perfectly coming out in a second. Vi knew better than to argue with a hallucination – or at least she told herself, the past minutes proving quite the opposite –, mutely agreeing to put their beef behind herself for a while.

“Malibu,” she bluntly states, eyes on the ceiling above her, tiny spots of mold growing right above her as if the ceiling was made just for that.

“Why the fuck are we taking a big fucking roadtrip again?” Countess sighs, already disapproving of the idea. Not to mention that it was Malibu, of all places. Vienne was coming up with better and better – worse and worse – plans day by day, first a visit to Vought Tower, and now a trip to Barbieland.

“We’re going to rehab,” Vi nods, eyes fixed on Countess, a suppressed smile crawling onto Vi’s face, seemingly sure of the plan.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Countess blurts out, patience wearing thin, ready to snap any moment now. “One drink won’t get you there, if that’s why you think you’re going there.”

“You know,” Vi lets out a deep breath, ready for a longer monologue, “A-Train’s dead.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And now, there’s a free seat in the Seven. Homelander will fill it like he filled Stillwell, and I already have my hunch about his plan. He lost his speedster, logical to replace it with a speedster, no? But the problem is, Shockwave, the guy who was supposed to come after A-Train’s also dead, which leaves the guy who was before A-train,” Vi sketches out her masterplan, trying to sound as reasonable as possible, which proved to be a challenge with how she was slumped in the most ridiculous position, and felt as if a truck just ran her over.

“Oh, you don’t mean—”

Vi just nods, the grin on her face spreading with each second, earning yet another disappointed sigh from Countess. 

“That guy’s unstable, Vienne. He’s in fucking rehab for a reason, maybe— no, definitely it’s the best if you leave him there. The only thing that guy will bring to the table is more pain and problems to deal with,” Countess tries to counter-reason, not too fascinated with the idea just presented to her.

“You think Homelander will care about leaving him in rehab? No fucking way. And if Homelander gets him on his side, we’re fucked. We’re already running out of time, and if Homelander sends a speedster after us, we’re even more deep fried than now. That motherfucker can run and comb through all the states in a single day. He finds us, we’re done for,” Vi defends her stance, words confident for the most part, although the alcohol still caused some to be a bit more slurred than intended.

“So what’s the plan? You get him before Homelander does? That’s your genius idea?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. You’re stupid.”

“You know that if I have a plan to solve something, I’ll do it with or without anybody else. It won’t change, not even now.”

“Yeah, like when that entire murder thing was going on? How do you feel about that call now, huh? You could’ve worked with Ben for fuck’s sake, but no, you two were both too stubborn for that,” Countess sighs, her emotions intense as she lectured Vi. 

“Don’t even think about bringing Ben up,” Vi hisses back in an instant, the name-drop hitting her too hard. The anger is short-lived, Vi’s shoulders slowly dropping right after, tone shifting to something more sorrowful and calmer. “I always knew he was alive, and… I just thought that before I go out, I should… talk things through with him. So I waited, and waited, and when I realized that I can’t really end myself, I waited even more. And he was here. Flesh and blood, still the Ben I knew, just somewhat calmer. Only for him to be frozen down again. I thought maybe that’s the best call, keep him there until Homelander’s over, that Ben can have a better life if we unfrost him later. And I fucked up. And we’re here. He’s dead, I’m not.”

“Calmer? That guy’s calm for you?” Countess questions, disbelief in her tone. 

“Fuck you, calm might not have been the right word, I can’t think of anything better right now, but the talks and interactions I had with him after he got defrosted had nothing on the beef and bullshit we had with each other way back,” Vi retorts, her old memories from between the war and Ben’s kidnapping flooding back to her in an instant. The talks and small arguments from two years ago were nothing compared to the fights, disses, quarrels and hostility they had with each other seventy or so years ago. Whether because they didn’t agree, or purely to spite the other.

“So now you keep mourning, doing absolutely nothing, waiting for the world to burn down? How fucking heroic of you, truly,” Countess scoffs, eyes drifting over to the wall before going back to Vi. 

“Nope,” Vi firmly exclaims, the next step already outlined in her mind. “I go back to Erie, catch up with The Boys, see if they found anything since. If they did and need me for something, I’ll see what I can do. After that, I’m off to Global Wellness Malibu. That’s not what I’d call ‘doing nothing’, per se,” Vi smirks back, although a bit distorted due to the alcohol currently flowing through her and hazing her mind. Another wonder-fucking-ful plan.

Chapter Text

“And I’m proud to announce that this brave hero… Is my father!” Homelander’s calm but cheery tone echoed from the television, The Boys all huddled in front of it, the same expression sitting out on all their faces. On the TV, standing right next to Homelander with his chest puffed, was Soldier Boy. The same Soldier Boy that they apparently killed not even a day prior, living, breathing, and in perfect shape.

“We were there, they all got infected, we watched them die…” Hughie mutters under his breath, mind racing as it tries to make up a logical explanation for what they just saw. 

Butcher clicks the remote, the TV dying down with a buzz, before he turns over to Sameer standing at the back.

“How is that cunt still breathing?” Butcher sternly questions, not too pleased with the fact that his masterplan turned out to not work in the end. Sameer keeps quiet for a few seconds, a confused look on his face as the cogs in his head turn, the answer finally clicking for him.

“Oh, no no no…” He murmurs, brows knitting together as realization dawns on him. He turns to a nearby cardboard box in an instant, fishing out a stack of documents, flipping through the yellowing pages until he lands on what he was searching for. “He’s got V1 in his bloodstream,” he states.

The Boys share a puzzled look amongst each other, neither too sure of what this meant.

“V1? What’s V1?” Hughie finally voices their concerns, arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“Frederick Vought’s first iteration of the Compound V,” Sameer answers.

“What do we know about it?” 

“Well, not much, to be honest,” Sameer admits, tail between his legs as he spoke, the death stare Butcher was giving him pumping enough fear into him. “It uh, didn’t last long, barely anybody has it. Just supes before the fifties.”

“So the first gen,” Butcher sighs after making the observation. Sameer just nods along. “So if we want to know more…”

“We need to ask somebody who has it,” Frenchie finishes the sentence. A bright idea strikes Hughie.

“We have one on speed dial,” he exclaims, the plan already fresh and ready. Butcher’s quick to realize where this is going, a disapproving look on his face.

“Don’t you fucking think about it,” he warns Hughie. 

“Or what? You’ve got a better plan? You said it yourself, the Ghost’s one of our aces against Homelander, and now you refuse to play that card?” Hughie argues back, hand already reaching for his phone.

“Hughie, we don’t even know where the fuck she is, she should’ve been back last night. I already done told ya yesterday that telling her Soldier Cunt’s dead was the worst fucking idea you could come up with, and now you wanna phone her again. Go ahead, see if she even picks up,” Butcher grins, ready to see Hughie’s plan fail. No updates from the Ghost since she left the base last morning, and for Butcher, that was enough indication to think that she abandoned the team, rightfully so.

The line on the other end of Hughie’s phone is quiet, just feedback and occasional beeps, waiting for Vienne to pick up. 

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The deafening sound of the unchanged default ringtone woke Vienne from her sleep, body numb from the unhealthy position she fell asleep in. Eyes still adjusting to the morning light, her hands reach for where she assumed her phone would be, the device still emanating the horrible sound. Still half-asleep, her thumb slides the call bar, picking up.

“Hello?” She croaks, voice still recovering from last night. She didn’t bother to check the caller ID until now, eyes drifting over to the screen to see Hughie’s name. 

“Hi, uh, Vienne,” Hughie’s voice came from the other end, that uncertain tone making him easily recognizable anytime. “I’m sorry that I have to ask you this, but… we need your help.”

Vienne goes silent, mind and body waking up. Ben’s death was still heavy on her mind, clouding some of her thoughts, and the fact that it was Hughie, out of all people, who broke the news for her only made the silence even more deafening. Hughie was patiently waiting on the other end of the phone, aware that Vi wasn’t exactly in the best shape. 

“You don’t… have to, if you think that’s best, but… please. At least consider it. We need all the help we can get against Homelander, and you’re the best we can manage,” Hughie elaborates after realizing that Vienne wasn’t saying much. He was also just about to bring up the news concerning Ben, only to be met with Butcher’s deadly glare, mutely telling him to not even think about it. The silence persists, Hughie unsure whether Vi was even there on the other end. He’s about to say more, but is cut off by Vi right before he could continue.

“What do you need help with? Anything specific?” Vi’s quiet, still tired voice ringing through. 

“Well… I’d really like it if you came back to Erie, for starters,” Hughie begins.

“What, you thought I left y’all for dead?” Vi lightly chuckles, pushing herself up from her sitting position. “Things dragged on for a bit longer than expected, and I didn’t want to drive at night, don’t trust myself enough. I didn’t abandon you guys though,” she explains to clear up the confusion between her and Hughie. 

“Oh, okay, you just… got us worried for a sec,” Hughie awkwardly chuckles. “Um, so I know you’re coming back anyway, but it’s kinda urgent, so uh… can you tell us what you know about the V1?”

Vi’s brows furrow, the question striking her as a surprise. V1 wasn’t the most popular conversation topic, probably nobody asked her about it since Compound V was released. The fact that Hughie was bringing this up raised some concerns in Vienne.

“Well… The first version of the V, hence the name,” she begins with a sigh, phone held to her ear by her shoulder, hands idly packing up whatever few things she had with herself. “It was unstable as hell, barely anybody survived after getting shot up with it. You could count on your own hands the supes who have it.”

“Do you have, uh, a list maybe?” Hughie asks, hands reaching for a piece of paper from Sameer’s research table, Kimiko already tossing a pen to him. 

“Well, let’s see, uh, Bombsight, Torpedo, Private Angel, Stormfront, Soldier Boy, and… me,” Vi explains, the last part barely audible. 

“That’s… all?” Hughie questions from the other end, surprise evident in his tone. While he didn’t expect many supes, he didn’t expect there to be only six in total.

“That I know of, yeah,” Vi sighs, fighting herself into her somewhat oversized brown leather coat. “I told you, barely anyone who got it survived. Why? Does Homelander have his laser sights set on V1 and V1 supes?” She asks, partially as a joke, partially because she had a gut that the V was brought up for a reason — and knowing The Boys, all roads lead to Homelander.

“V1’s immune to the virus,” Hughie breaks the news to Vi. Her eyes widen, a faint smile taking over her face, the revelation somewhat soothing her aching heart. 

“So… I’m immune too,” she quietly exclaims.

“Yeah, but if Homelander gets his hands on V1, then–”

“He’ll be immune too,” Vi finishes the boy’s sentence. “Fuck.”

“We want to get the V1 before Homelander does. Sameer said that they haven’t made any since the fifties, is that right?”

“Yeah. They managed to stabilize it with a few changes, leading to Compound V, which meant that V1 wasn’t necessary anymore. They had a safer version that let the people injected with it age, obviously they switched the moment they could. I don’t think there’s any V1 left, it was all destroyed.”

“Not… anything? No secret stash?”

“Not that I know of, no. But if Homelander knows that the V1 is immune to the virus, even if he can’t find a ready-made one, he’ll engineer one himself, he’s got all of Vought’s tech for it.”

“Yeah, but it will take weeks, months, or years to make a stable version with the lab rats, then they have to stabilize it for humans, and that’s—”

“You really think Homelander will play it safe? With rats?” Vienne cuts the boy off, a wild, but realistic idea in her mind.

“You don’t think—”

“That he’ll test it directly on humans? I do think, yeah. The guy’s got hundreds of Freedom Camps, you think he won’t put them to use?”

“Fuck, that’s… wild, even for him.”

“Yeah, but you can’t deny it, that guy’s going more insane with every moment. Knowing him, it’s a totally possible option,” Vi sketches her idea out. Homelander was already crazy, but with Vought and basically everybody under his control, he’s been spiraling even more. “I won’t be back for another crisp four or so hours, you guys got a plan until then?”

“Annie said she’s going to call somebody who might help us, said that we’ll meet up with him. I guess we won’t be back for a while either, if you get back before us, stay here. We need the whole group back together,” Hughie replies, the rest of the group also ready with a plan of their own.

“Understood, chief,” Vienne says as she plops down into the driver’s seat of the car, the motel room’s key already tossed to the woman in charge. “Hughie,” she cuts in right before Hughie could end the call, “watch out. Homelander’s after you, and we both know what he can do.”

Hughie, even if Vi couldn’t see it right now, nodded along, a weak smile on his face. 

“Yup, you got it,” he croaks into the phone, tone unsure. Vienne's concern touched the boy a little, although they both knew that even caution wouldn't save them here. The other end goes quiet, Vi hanging up the call as she hits the road, heading right back to Erie.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The sound of skin slapping against skin comes to an end as Firecracker rolls onto the white bedsheets, breathing heavy, body sore as she laid there, Soldier Boy right next to her, their clothes scattered on the floor akin to a teenage boy’s unkempt room. The huge American flag right at their heads just pulled the wonderful picture together.

“Well, I gotta hand it to you,” Ben breaks the sudden silence between the two. “I haven’t fucked that hard since I railed Shari Lewis on the balcony of Studio 54”

“I ain’t got no idea who it is,” Firecracker sighs, the blanket pulled over her naked body.

Shame, Vi would’ve known, Ben’s subconscious immediately thought. She always knew everybody, from actors to musicians to other public figures, so in a way Ben was in fact right, she probably would’ve known. 

“Not even with the Ghost?” Firecracker continues out of the blue, a puzzled expression on her face, head turning to face Ben. What?

Ben just keeps quiet, a soft sigh leaving his lips, almost as if he was deep in thought. It seems the Ghost was still relevant as of today, given that both of their minds went to her first, although for different reasons.

“Oh, don’t tell me that you meet me and we immediately end up in my bed, meanwhile the bitch you’ve known for a hundred fucking years hasn’t seen your dick…” Firecracker shuts her eyes, almost as if she was a disappointed mother, realization dawning on her quick enough. 

“Well… I gotta admit, I was kinda just doing this as petty revenge against that freak,” Ben states, his beef with Homelander peacefully boiling and boiling. “You two have fucked though, right?”

Firecracker, after a moment of stillness, just slowly shakes her head sideways. The revenge was meaningless it seems, a frustrated sigh escaping Ben. Fuck.

“Why would you even do such a thing?” Firecracker asked, tone more laid-back than her words would suggest. “And you shouldn’t say that about your son.”

“Ah, he thinks he’s better than me.”

“He doesn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t know much, but I can read people,” Firecracker elaborates. “And the way he looks at you? Shoot. I ain’t ever seen him look at anybody like that.”

Ben’s thoughts swirl like a storm, emotions mixed. On one hand, it was good to know that Homelander was apparently not trying to exceed him, but on the other, it was… still Homelander, for fuck’s sake!

“I uh, don’t think that’s a compliment, doll,” Ben voices his concerns. “He is the strangest motherfucker I’ve ever known. And I’ve had a threesome with Gary Busey. Ugh,” the memory itself sends a few shivers down his spine, some memories he wasn’t too fond of resurfacing way too quick. He’s seen his share of weird bullshit, but it was as if Homelander’s sole goal was to out-do everything. Whether that’s Ben’s status as Soldier Boy, or the amount of freakiness a person can handle.

Meanwhile, the cogs in Firecracker’s head were also turning, slow and creaky, but at least they were, the past day’s events slowly all falling into place. The Ghost’s visit to the tower, Soldier Boy being unfrosted, it all tied together like a perfect bow on a gift. The only question was, how much information was Ben aware of?

“Man, fuck this shit,” Ben sighs, a hand running through his hair, each movement filled with a hint of frustration. “I tell myself I won’t bury myself in sex and drugs at every minor inconvenience, yet here I am.”

“Yeah, that virus must’ve been tough. I’m sorry that he sent you there, he—”

“The virus I can take, I’m still here, ain’t I?” Ben cuts her off. Yes, the virus hurt him in a way that not even most of the Russian experiments did, but he had bigger losses. “I came back, new world, new rules, but I knew that I don’t have to be afraid, because I’d have a compass to lead me through it. Turns out that while I was on ice, William Butcher successfully took that away from me.”

And just like that, the final piece of the puzzle slides right into its place in Firecracker’s mind. The Ghost’s sudden visit to Vought Tower, Ben’s spiral, it all seemed to connect. If she had a corkboard with those pins in it, she could’ve connected them all with that red string by now. 

“So that’s why she was here…” Firecracker mutters to herself, thinking aloud on accident.

“Who? The Ghost?” Ben immediately questions, the sudden revelation striking him as a surprise. Firecracker just nods along, hopeful that if she keeps quiet, the topic will just drift. Wrong, now that she dropped the lead, it was too late. “When?”

“Like… recently. This month,” Firecracker replies, as vague as possible. Soldier Boy is on their side as of now, but she knew that all it took to fuck that up was one single wrong move, and she wasn’t keen on risking that. 

Ben’s brows furrow, not making much sense of the situation. One side tells him that she’s dead, the other says she was here recently. They were maybe two weeks into the month, if Homelander was right and Vi did die, it happened a lot closer to Ben’s defrosting than he had initially thought.

“What was she here for?” Ben sternly asks back, the atmosphere slowly morphing, the lightheartedness fading away with every passing second. 

“I don’t know, I only encountered her as she was leaving. Bitch threatened me, we didn’t say much to each other y’know.”

“But she was here…”

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Homelander’s eyes were fixed on the monitor of the computer in front of him, a female office worker sitting in front of it, the two watching a security camera footage. On it was the Ghost, entering and leaving the building a day ago, all without triggering an alarm, causing any damage, or taking anything. One question remained – why was she here in the first place?

Although Homelander had a gut about it the moment he found out she was here — Soldier Boy.

His theory proved to be true when they switched cameras, now to the one with the view of Homelander’s bedroom’s door, Vi, as he guessed, entering and exiting. The time matched too, with her being there right as Soldier Boy was fighting for his life against William Butcher and his ragtag team in an entirely different state. A perfect explanation as to why she didn’t take anything — what she came for had already been taken.

“Delete it,” Homelander sternly commands, eyes still on the computer’s screen, staring right into Vi’s eyes, the video paused right at a moment when she glances up at the cam. The fury in Homelander’s eyes mirrored the one in hers perfectly. 

Swallowing hard and without asking a question, the woman deletes the footage from that timeframe, replacing it almost instantly with a stagnant video of the hall, now looking like there was no break-in in the first place. 

Just in time, as the silence between the two is broken by the sound of heavy footsteps, with Soldier Boy coming to a halt near them.

“Homelander,” he begins, voice sounding like it was made up of pure testosterone. “Whatcha doing here? Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Well, a good leader must always keep an eye on things, no?” Homelander forces a smile, trying his best to defuse the situation before Soldier Boy catches wind of the lie.

“Funny, ‘cause I heard that there was a break-in recently,” Ben shoots him a forced smile. “If you truly are the considerate leader you pose as, shouldn’t you make sure this shitshow of a building is safe?”

“What break-in?” Homelander shrugs, brows knitting together. Ben’s eyes drift over to the computer, some security footage playing on it, evident that Homelander was also aware of Vi being here, and was seemingly trying his best to keep it under wraps. “You don’t have to worry, father. If there was, I would be able to take care of it,” he grins at Ben, nodding along.

Ben keeps quiet, simply staring back in response. Something wasn’t right, that was obvious from the first moment. The gut that he was being played by someone again lingered in him — and all signs pointed to it being the harsh truth.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The door of the base creaks open, given that it was old and pretty much abandoned besides Butcher settling in, the duo of Frenchie and Kimiko stepping through quietly. What surprises them once they step foot inside is that they weren’t alone, a familiar figure sitting near the middle of the room, at one of Sameer’s research tables.

“You look like shit,” are the first words that leave Frenchie’s mouth as he and Kimiko strut in, index finger lazily pointing at Vi. She sat there with practically red eyes and eyebags from last night’s lack of sleep, posture a bit crooked, that melancholic look on her face.

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Vi looks up at them, giving a weak, almost forced smile. Taking a quick glance around, it becomes evident that the rest of the group wasn’t here yet. “So, where are the others? Just you two?”

“The others are at Stan Edgar’s luxury bunker,” Frenchie replies, that distaste palpable in his voice, clearly not too amused by Edgar just watching the world burn from his secured seat. But what could this French chemist do against it, besides just let him be like that? Unbeknownst to him, Edgar’s peace was already long gone, the man currently on a joyride to Vought Tower with The Deep.

“So why’re you two back?” Vi asks, although she already had her guess from looking at the folder in Frenchie’s grip, a big enough clue for her to figure out that they’ve got some intel that can push their mission further.

“Got some files, but they’re coded. Butcher’s got a scanner, we’ll use that to decode this,” he raises the folder of documents, heading to a different room where Butcher kept his other pieces of equipment. Vi pushes herself up from the seat she occupied while waiting there in silence and drowning in a few runaway tears for the past hours now, following the duo.

They arrive in a smaller room, pieces of electronic equipment scattered around, the question of whether they still worked still hanging in the air. To put it to the test, Frenchie fires up the scanner, doing a test run on it by putting his face above instead of a paper, a perfect scan of his face appearing on the laptop connected to the device. In short, it worked.

With the test phase now over, he opens the folder, placing the first sheet of paper onto the glass-like surface of the scanner, shutting its lid to get a good quality scan, while Kimiko plops down next to Terror, Butcher’s dog, laying nearby. Vienne’s eyes shift onto the remaining stack of papers in the folder, fingers gently tracing over its grainy surface. That is, until her eyes land on a part that wasn’t redacted. Fort Harmony.

The name was way too familiar, a few memories bubbling up — none of which she was fond of. 

Frenchie’s quick to notice the shift in Vi’s demeanor. Realization quickly dawns on him — if anybody knows about Fort Harmony and the V1 there, then it has to be the person injected with V1 who was alive back when the building was operating.

“You… know the place?” A hopeful Frenchie quietly asks, in contrast to the deafening volume of the machine’s sounds as it desperately tried to make a scan. 

“Fort Harmony?” Vi looks up at him, broken out of her thoughts. “I… yeah. I know about it. Probably not everything, but enough.”

“So… Do you think we can find some V1 in there?” 

“My best guess is that everything was destroyed, but if you really want to go look for it, I’d say this is your best possibility, yup,” Vi says, swallowing hard right after, heartbeat speeding up just a bit. The last thing her sanity needed was Fort Harmony, but life just seems to be fucking her sideways recently. 

“Butcher and the others get back, you’ll have to tell us what you know, okay?” Frenchie states, switching the papers in the scanner meanwhile. Just as Vi was about to say okay, the sound of something smashing alerts them, all three exchanging a worried look before rushing back to the main hall.

Arriving, in front of them was the devastating blow of the virus and the research of it all destroyed. Papers torn, floor and petri dishes soaked in bleach, equipment broken to pieces. It was Sameer and a little girl, both doing as much damage to the makeshift lab as they could.

“He told me Zoe was dead,” Sameer pants as he pours a thick layer of bleach onto the petri dishes lined up on the table. The trio watched with a horrified expression, Frenchie the most petrified of them all. Sameer continues. “He was the one who killed Vicky, not Homelander… Fucking psycho!” He exclaims, on the brink of tears, as he smashes some of his research onto the floor. “And you all went along with it!”

“Frenchie, what the fuck is he talking about?” Vienne mutters, not exactly in the clear about what was going on.

“Come on, Zoe,” Sameer extends his hand towards the girl with him. Frenchie wasn’t having it, hands fishing out his handgun, aim set on the man. 

“I’m sorry, mon pote,” he murmurs under his breath. “I cannot allow you to leave.”

The girl, Zoe, steps forward, seemingly ready to fight back. Frenchie cocks the gun in response, the two sides at what seemed to be a stalemate.

“Please,” he breathes out, not too keen on shooting either of them. “Don’t make me shoot your papa.”

Silence followed, neither parties making any moves. That is, until Kimiko steps in front of the gun, lowering it. 

“Let them go,” she softly spoke.

“She tried to kill us both,” Frenchie argues back, tone almost hiss-like, clearly fed up with the situation, with the lab all in pieces and Sameer, the only guy who could remake it, planning to leave.

“She should grow up like a kid. Not like us,” she replies, referring to both herself, Frenchie, and maybe even Vienne for all she knew.

Frenchie inhales, eyes fixed on the ground as he lowers the gun, hands falling to his sides in one lazy motion. Kimiko turns around to face Sameer and his daughter, a soft smile on her face. 

“Go,” she says, tone soft and calm. Sameer, after a moment of hesitation, reaches for Zoe’s hand, the two limping out, silence engulfing the room. 

What remained after them was a mess — everything broken, bleached, or burnt. A year’s research, all down the drain, in the span of less than a minute.

Chapter Text

June 2006: Mr. Marathon is charged with marijuana possession

Just before Mr. Marathon's breakout role in The Seven, the supe was arrested and charged with marijuana possession on June 22, 2006, with police reporting that the supe was holding a "brown, vegetable material" during a routine traffic stop, per TMZ. However, that July, the publication reported that a New Jersey judge agreed to dismiss the possession charge, issuing two disorderly conduct citations.

January 2019: Mr. Marathon delivers a cryptic message to the Ku Klux Klan

In a since-deleted Instagram video posted on Jan. 27, Mr. Marathon appeared to threaten members of a Ku Klux Klan chapter in North Carolina.

"Look, if y'all want to die, I suggest just killing yourselves with your own guns. OK?" Mr. Marathon said in the video, according to The Hollywood Reporter. "Otherwise, keep doing exactly what you're doing right now — and you know what I am talking about — then, you know, we'll do it for you, if that's really what you want. Talk to you soon, OK. Bye."

Along with the video, Mr. Marathon reportedly wrote in the caption, "Please disseminate (gross!) this video to all those whom it may concern. This is not a joke and even though I do recognize myself to be a clown please trust me and take this seriously. Let's save some live [sic] now ok babies? Love you like woah."

March 2022: Mr. Marathon is charged with disorderly conduct and harassment

On March 28, Mr. Marathon was arrested and charged with disorderly conduct and harassment over their alleged involvement in two separate incidents that happened at a karaoke bar in Hawaii.

According to a news release from the Hawaii Police Department, officers responded to the unnamed bar on Silva Street in Hilo on March 27 at around 11:30 p.m., after reports of disorderly conduct. Police say the supe got "agitated" by people singing karaoke at the bar and then started to use derogatory language.

"Mr. Marathon began yelling obscenities and at one point grabbed the microphone from a 23-year-old woman singing karaoke and later lunged at a 32-year-old man playing darts," added the HPD. "The bar owner asked Mr. Marathon to calm down several times."

That April, the supe pleaded no contest to the disorderly conduct charge in court via Zoom call, after which the judge sentenced Mr. Marathon with a $500 fine. The judge also dismissed two additional counts against Mr. Marathon "with prejudice," including a harassment charge from the same incident and a separate traffic-obstruction-related complaint.

March 2023: Mr. Marathon gets a restraining order filed against them

On March 29, two Hilo residents filed for a temporary restraining order against Mr. Marathon, claiming that Mr Marathon harassed and threatened them, according to a court document obtained by PEOPLE.

The complaint alleged that Mr. Marathon "burst into the bedroom of the petitioner(s) and threatened" the alleged male victim by "saying 'I will bury you and your slut wife.' " The document also claimed that Mr Marathon stole some of the alleged victims' personal belongings, including a social security card, wallet, passport, driver's license, and bank cards.

Two weeks later, the restraining order case was dismissed by a judge per the couple's request, as reported by the Associated Press.

August 2024: Mr. Marathon is accused of burglary

In August, Mr. Marathon was accused of burglarizing a home in Vermont, where they allegedly stole "several bottles of alcohol," per a release from the Vermont State Police.

After looking at surveillance footage and taking statements, police said they had "probable cause" to charge Marathon "with the offense of felony burglary into an unoccupied dwelling."

The supe was later summoned to attend a court hearing in Vermont Superior Court Bennington Criminal Division on Sept. 26. He later pleaded not guilty in October of the same year.

August 2024: Mr. Marathon reveals they're seeking treatment for "complex mental health issues"

On Aug. 15, Marathon publicly addressed their recent troubling behavior in a statement to PEOPLE. "Having recently gone through a time of intense crisis, I now understand that I am suffering complex mental health issues and have begun ongoing treatment," Marathon said.

"I want to apologize to everyone that I have alarmed and upset with my past behavior. I am committed to doing the necessary work to get back to a healthy, safe and productive stage in my life," the supe added.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

“So still nothing from Annie,” Vienne sighs, writing the name up on the whiteboard with a question mark, the black marker making a squeak-like sound on the surface. In front of the group was Sameer’s leftover whiteboard, now littered with the information and plans the group gathered. 

“We can’t wait for her, whatever we do, we gotta act quick,” MM reasons, trying to keep the team on a rational path, as much as it was possible with The Boys. “So, sum up what we have and what we can do.”

“What we know is that neither Homelander or us are one step ahead of the other,” Vi begins. “He’s got Edgar, we’ve got the documents and me, Fort Harmony’s the biggest concern for both of us. If there’s any V1 left, which I doubt, it’s probably there.”

“Sameer’s also left, and fucked up the lab and virus,” Hughie adds, eyeing the destruction around them, some of the mess still the way it was last night, the smell of bleach still strong in the air despite their best attempts to air it out. 

“Frenchie, how much virus we got? ” Butcher cuts in, turning to the Frenchman leaning against one of the tables in the center of the room.

“Not enough,” he replies with a shrug. “It needs time to multiply to be enough for a dose.”

“How much time’s that?”

“Weeks, at least,” Frenchie answers, not too pleased with the situation, but confident enough in his skills.

“Too bad we don’t have much time,” Vi sighs, writing this info up on the whiteboard as well. “The only way to stop Homelander is to be at least a step ahead of him, and that requires us to be fast.”

“So we go to Fort Harmony,” Hughie brainstorms, earning a somewhat confused look from the group. “We get the V1 before Homelander does.”

“So what, we just get going right now?” Kimiko questions, a bit skeptical about the plan.

“If you want to get there before Homelander does, I suggest you do,” Vi cuts in.

“You know the place,” Butcher spoke, words addressed to the supe. “Mind yapping about it a lil?”

“Well, Fort Harmony was like the birthplace of the V,” Vi begins, the tale still etched into her mind with every detail perfectly clear, even after all these years. “It’s where the original experiments took place, Dr. Vought called them his ‘trials’, so to speak. Had a shit ton of volunteers, most died, until somehow he got Soldier Boy. I’m pretty sure the other first gen supes like Bombsight and Private Angel were also injected there later on.”

“And I’m guessing so were you,” MM empathically nods along, aware that it might not be some of Vi’s fondest memories.

“Not… exactly, no,” Vi awkwardly corrects him, not too sure how to reply. “My situation was less like an experiment and more like… a hail mary, a last ditch effort thing.”

Out of all the experiments, she was maybe the biggest miracle on Dr. Vought’s hands. While the others were injected under sterile conditions and in perfect health, Vi got the serum in a tiny, dust-filled room stinking from the smell of gunpowder and blood, with her slumped against a wall, bleeding, on the verge of death. The fact that she survived was probably the most unexpected thing to come out of her situation. 

“Anyways,” Vi continues, “it was overall a testing ground, a shit ton of different experiments to see what the V does or doesn’t do, although most test were conducted after they made more supes, ‘cause, you know, they were still great asset, and they didn’t want to kill them all in a lab. They tested durability, whether we were bulletproof, had any weaknesses, all that sweet stuff. After Compound V was created, they abandoned the site, and like you guessed, I don’t know shit after that.”

“So that’s why this place is our most likely place to find the V,” MM comments, the situation now pieced together properly. “It’s where it was first used, tested, and produced.”

“The V1 spawn point, basically,” Vi adds in. “But I’m guessing they destroyed it all, or was looted by homeless crooks wandering around.”

“Still, it’s our best chance to save Annie and Kimiko, and keep Homelander from taking it,” Hughie reasons. “So we’re going.”

“If you do, just be safe, take every precaution. That place was an extreme testing ground, who knows what might linger there, radiation, viruses, mutated animals or plants... It’s pretty much fucking Chernobyl there,” Vi warns the group. Knowing them, they would still strut in without a gas mask or any protection, but she still had some hope that at least Frenchie was aware of what to do about chemicals.

“Wait, you’re saying that like you’re not coming with us,” MM breathes out, picking up on the strange warning. “You are, right?”

Vienne just keeps silent for a moment before speaking.

“Look, I get that you expect me to go, but I’m not too keen on taking a trip down memory lane,” she sighs, arms crossing in front of her chest. “I’m already a wreck as it is, I have no intent on going. You guys can handle yourselves without me.”

“Don’t joke now luv,” Butcher takes a step closer, that stern look plastered on his face as if it was permanent. “You’ll be our navigator. What would ya do if we left ya all on your own while we were away, hm?”

“Like I said, we need to be a step ahead of Homelander,” Vi sighs, fingers deftly picking the cap off of the whiteboard marker, adding a new piece of information onto the board. “I’m heading to Global Wellness Malibu while you guys head to that shithole.”

“Oh, take a weekend off, won’t you, rest up before we all get diced by Homelander,” Butcher comments, tone dripping thick with sarcasm. 

“Not exactly, I’m not going to rest,” Vi corrects the man. “A-train’s dead.”

“We know, and?”

“And that means Homelander officially lost his speedster, which means he’ll likely recruit another one to take A-train’s place. And since the guy who was supposed to come after him is also gone, that leaves—”

“The guy before him,” Frenchie finishes the sentence, picking up on the idea quick enough.

“Yup,” Vi exclaims, a soft smile appearing on her face, deep down glad that at least one person caught onto what she was leading up to. She saunters over to one of the desks, taking a folder containing a few papers, dropping it off at the other table where Butcher and the others stood. The brit shoots her a questioning glare before his eyes drift back onto the folder. Upon opening it, he comes face to face with the first page.

A newspaper cutout,  seemingly recent, the headline printed in big, bold, capital letters. 

“FACING PRISON, MR. MARATHON ACCEPTS COURT-ORDERED STAY AT GLOBAL WELLNESS MALIBU.”

“You’re going after Mr. Marathon,” Frenchie approvingly nods along, a cheeky smile on his face. 

“Yeah, I wanted to get going as soon as possible. If Homelander goes to get the V1 first, then by the time he gets to Mr. Marathon, he’ll be already gone, meaning that we’re finally a step ahead of him. Vice versa, if he goes to get Mr. Marathon first, then by the time he gets to Fort Harmony, he won’t find any V, if there is. In both situations, we win. But for that, we have to split up, and I think the best course of action is that I avoid Fort Harmony before PTSD strikes me down, and you guys avoid the mentally unstable speedster.”

“He’s mentally unstable?” Hughie questions back, a bit puzzled. “Who’s this guy?”

“Being mentally unstable is basically in the job description,” Vi sighs. If she recalled correctly, every supe she knew had some problem, whether it was schizophrenia, depression or something else entirely, but at the end of the day nobody was safe and healthy. “The guy used to be a member of The Seven, he was their speedster before A-train dethroned him as the fastest man alive.”

“So if Homelander wants a speedster replacement, he’ll pick him,” Hughie nods along, eyes fixed on the paper, drifting from the headline to the smaller letters. Yeah, the guy was a nutcase, at least based on his description and info-dump included in the document. Not even serial killing-type nutcase, just plain weird and absurd. By now he also managed to recall something Lamplighter told him when the two broke into the Vought Tower, something about him and Mr. Marathon sneaking teenage girls in, for reasons Hughie didn’t want to know. Needless to say, it was enough to reinforce the belief that this speedster wasn’t exactly right in the head. “Why not do it the other way around?”

“You mean?” Vi questions. 

“We’re pretty skilled in… taking out supes, Mr. Marathon would be a case we could take on,” Hughie explains. 

“Look, Hughie,” Vi sighs, face to face with Hughie, tone calm. “I get it, I somewhat know the place, but… we’re nearing the end. I’m going to die either way, whether we have a virus or not. I don’t want Fort Harmony to be one of the last places I visit.”

“But the virus doesn’t work on V1 supes, and Homelander can’t really kill you, so… I doubt you’ll die.”

“Hughie… You’ve got Frenchie engineering the virus. He knows how to improve it to kill V1 too. You really think he’ll just let that chance slip? They want the first generation supes gone too, Butcher does at least,” she sighs, subtly eyeing Butcher up and down, before her eyes fall to the ground. Taking a deep breath, she continues. “Anyways, my point is that I’ve done enough reminiscing to go back to Fort Harmony, and can get into the Grand Wellness building easier than you. Fort Harmony’s got no security to get past, and we need Mr. Marathon alive anyways, which I don’t quite trust the team with.”

Both of them knew what she was alluding to, with quite literally every supe The Boys have encountered ending up dead one way or another. A hostage situation wasn’t quite up their alley. 

“Can you… give us a lead on where the V might be? Like, inside Fort Harmony?” Hughie decides to bring it up, accepting that there was not much that could convince Vi to tag along with them.

“If I had to guess, I’d say lab on the underground floor,” Vi says. “You go inside, take a left turn, there should be a small flight of stairs leading down. Go down that, you’re there. But don’t have high hopes ‘bout finding stacks of V.”

“That’s totally enough info, thanks,” Hughie nods vigorously, almost bowing a little. 

“Aight lot, ten minutes and we hop in the van, we’re leaving for Fort Harmony,” Butcher claps his hands together, declaring his plan for the day. Did Vi like the idea of sending them there? No, not much. Was it still the better option for them? Probably.

The room went quiet, everyone present mutely agreeing to the idea. It wasn’t necessarily because they wholeheartedly approved of it — it was closer to nobody having any ideas better than this. Off to Fort Harmony…

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

1944.

Following the hurried steps of Dr. Sterling was Vienne, on her best efforts to catch up to the man, the task proving to be more akin to a challenge with the confining heels she had been provided for work with. This was the only way to balance out the few minutes of delay in her train, to make up for the seconds lost there. The two pushed past the sea of other medics, doctors and scientists stuffing the hallways, all of them in just as much stress and excitement as Dr. Sterling seemingly was

The date was March 6th. The official test day for the V.

Vienne was still in a surprised state of mind that Dr. Sterling even let her in to witness this event. Obviously around two months ago it would’ve been natural for her to be here, but those two months weren’t exactly rippleless, the two – or three, with Ben being one of the main cause of disagreements – stumbling into way too many conflicts amongst each other. Vienne being invited to help oversee the final procedure was the last thing she expected to write up on her calendar. 

Yet she was here, breathing ragged as she quite literally ran the marathon – in heels, for bonus points –, both her and Dr. Sterling pausing right in front of the showroom’s door to compose themselves with a deep breath before stepping inside.

Chatter filled the showroom of Fort Harmony, officials and lead scientists gathering on the balcony-like structure overlooking the lab itself, some sitting in their chairs while others lined up neatly at the metal railing. Dr. Sterling and Vienne were up there too, the responsibility to perform the final test off their shoulders and thrown to other scientists. The duo’s only job right now was just to watch the experiment’s final stage unfold. 

“Excited?” Dr. Sterling quietly asks, question directed at Vienne standing right beside him, although his eyes were fixed on the restraint table currently being cleaned and sterilized in order to prepare for the injection. 

Vienne pushes her hands into the relatively small pocket of her white apron, fingers landing on a piece of crumbled paper, tinkling with the fold just to have something distract her from the feelings tumbling in her, before silently replying. “You know my view on this well enough.”

“So much so that I temporarily relegated you from the project. Yes, I’m aware,” the doctor sighs, still observing the showroom and the diligent workers preparing for the big moment. “Has it still not changed?”

“What do you think?” Vienne asks, that calm but cynical tone taking over. “You know how I despise your and Vought’s human experiments. This is no different. You got all those men into this project, and we both know that not even half of them survived.”

“But now we’ve stabilized it enough,” Dr. Sterling counters. “That’s why we got ourselves an audience. We show them that the V can succeed, and get the funds to keep working on this project. Make it bigger, better, more global.”

“We are at war, even if you manage to secure people willing to fund you and Vought’s V, I doubt they’ll start doing anything about it until the war is over. People can't even eat, let alone waste their money on science that won't put food on their table,” Vienne spoke, stifling a scoff, still disapproving of most of the experiments. 

“Miss Barone,” a third, newfound voice breaks the brewing conversation between the two. The tone was stiff, the voice deep, Vienne’s stomach turning into an uncomfortable knit as realization dawns on her. Turning around, Vi comes face to face with a middle aged man dressed in a black suit tied around him like armor, tie and fancy cufflinks perfectly giving away his status of immense wealth. 

In front of her stood John Monroe; industrial steel magnate, owner of half the steel mills in Pennsylvania — and coincidentally, the brutish father of Ben Monroe, future Soldier Boy.

Fuck.  

Vienne shoots a puzzled glare over to Dr. Sterling, the look clearly questioning what this man was doing here. Dr. Sterling caught onto the girl’s thoughts, but kept quiet, a nasal sigh leaving the man, internally cursing himself, his tail tucked between his legs as he goes back to observing the lab, ignorant of the conversation between Vi and John. 

“Not as much as a good afternoon, sir,” John continued, voice low, the man towering over Vienne’s mute figure. “No wonder you’re friends with that runt of a kid. Both on the same level of indecency.”

“Excuse me sir,” Vi mutters, tone barely above a whisper, eyes on the ground and her hands clasped together in front of her. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I had to be called in to sign paperwork,” John elaborates, although Vi could filter from his tone that he wasn’t the most enthusiastic about telling his tale. “Just formalities, that’s all.”

“Paperwork for what exactly?” Vi meekly asks, more and more questions bubbling up in her the more John said. John scoffs, eyes shut as he rolls them.

“For my wife’s son,” he replies. In short, for Ben. “Although I don’t plan on witnessing whatever you lot are about to conduct. In fact I was just about to leave. So goodbye, Miss Barone,” he shoots the girl a smile so forced that it probably hurt him to form it, pushing right past her, making sure to bump into her shoulder while doing so, jolting her sideways. Vienne stands motionless for a few seconds, all that John said dawning on her.

Slowly, as if already knowing what she’s about to see, she turns her head into the direction of the lab’s door opening with a soft creak, heart thudding in her ears, the knot in her stomach only tightening. Unknown fingers wrap around her wrist tight and firm, pulling her out of the room in one swift move, the metal doors of the showroom slapping shut behind them.

Meanwhile, stepping into the showroom simultaneously with Vienne leaving it, light brown pants and a white undershirt on, was Ben Monroe. His eyes scanned the balcony, searching for any familiar faces in the midst of people, only spotting well-dressed officials, military representatives, and scientists.

…

“What the fuck is going on?!” Vienne rages right outside the door leading to the showroom’s balcony, pulse rising with every passing second of Dr. Sterling’s silence. “I thought we settled, that we agreed that you won’t test it on Ben first!”

“Vienne, listen to me, he—”

“No, I’ve listened enough, we had a deal and you broke it!” Vienne hisses, not having anything the doc was saying, swift hand movements accompanying every word that left her mouth. “You gave me the ‘official’ documents on this experiment, but I’m guessing that was all just a fabricated lie, no? Because that certainly isn’t Quinn Thompson in that showroom, about to be injected with the V!”

“Mr. Thompson’s a highly skilled soldier, losing him would be a bigger fatality than losing Mr. Monroe, given his… lack of field experience,” Dr. Sterling tries to elaborate, putting his mind to work as he tries to find the best words to put his idea without it sounding too offending. Still, the message was the same, and Vi understood what he was saying, even if he tried to sugarcoat it as much as possible.

“You think Ben’s expandable,” she quietly spoke, eyes on the freshly mopped floor, the water still faintly visible as it hasn’t fully dried yet, her own reflection visible. 

“No, obviously not. I value that boy’s life, and don’t want him to die either,” Dr. Sterling tries to shush the girl, putting all his efforts into deflecting the situation, with more or less success. “That’s just… the worst case scenario. You know that my acquaintances will do everything to keep him alive, right?”

“You lied to me.”

“No, I— yes, I did, but you have to trust me on this, he’s our best shot at this experiment.”

“You lied to me, and thought I would just be alright with you deceiving me and bringing out Ben? Even if not from his dad, I would’ve found out, you quite literally invited me here! What even was your plan?!” Vienne taunts, almost as if scolding the doc.  

“Look,” Dr. Sterling begins with a sigh, “I want you to trust me. Ben will survive this, we’ve stabilized the serum enough. I want you to come back in there with me,” he says, pointing inside the showroom through the tiny glass window of the door, “and be there when we can finally confirm that it works.”

…

Ben’s heart thudded out of his chest, blood rising to his head, fingers shaking uncontrollably as the nurses helping out in the experiment laid him on the cold, metal surface of the table. The number of doctors scurrying in all directions around him didn’t help his rising anxiety, needles, vials, and other unnerving equipment decorating the tables on the sides of the room. 

The audience he got made things worse; he loved attention, but right now, it was the last thing he craved. He laid there, shirtless, cold, vulnerable, the people’s gaze from above making him feel like open prey to deadly predators. That’s when his eyes land on the door leading to the balcony-like structure, a tiny glass window letting him see through to the other side of it. 

Ben’s eyes widen, eyes immediately locking on the familiar face. The brown hair, the doe eyes, everything, there was no doubt, it was her. 

“Vienne!” Ben croaked, his voice cracking halfway through, glossy eyes locked onto the see-through surface, specifically on the visibly distressed Vi on the other side of it. He had no idea what she was doing here, the only thing on his mind is that even if his mother, father, or brother can’t be here, he can at least have her by his side. “Vienne! Vi! Vienne!”

…

“Vienne! Vienne!” The sound of screaming filtered through the showroom’s door, the words hitting Vi like a punch to the gut. The voice was all too familiar for her liking, and the tone in which it screamed just tied the already tight knot in her stomach even tighter, almost suffocating, so much so that she felt like she was going to die here before Ben could. 

Not a word exchanged between her and Ben ever since she got off the project with all the disagreements, not a letter, not a visit, no nothing. Hearing him after so long was one thing, but hearing him scream like a deer being skinned was even worse. The officials and esteemed guests gathered inside all kept sharing puzzled looks between each other, not sure what to take the sudden panic of Ben for. 

Inside, Ben was already in the rigid grip of the medical assistants, the boy held to the table only by them, one of the nurses diligently fiddling with the leather strap smelling of ketamine, just like the injection in a nearby doctor’s hand. The strap around his wriggling hands tighten in one swift motion, Ben throwing his head back into the metal restraint table with a thud.

Outside, Vi, listening to the commotion’s sounds from inside, stands with her eyes shut, mouth quivering. There was one thing she didn’t want at all, and it was happening right on the other side of the door, with Ben still screaming for her to go back there. With one quick move, she turns on her heels, storming down the hallway leading her away from the showroom.

“Vivienne, wait!” Dr. Sterling’s voice came from behind her, his dress shoes echoing on the cold tiles as he ran after Vi, his last desperate attempt at getting her to stay. He comes to a halt in front of her, hands already cautiously raised by his head in defense. “Ten seconds is all I ask of you.”

“You had more than ten seconds,” Vi hisses at the man, brows knitted together as her blood boiled. “You had all those test subjects, and still chose the one we agreed you wouldn’t! I treasure Ben, but I will admit the harsh truth that he isn’t the hero you want. He’s a scared, needy boy trying to play macho for acknowledgement, and we both know it’s the truth.”

“If the test works, he’ll be our first hero, but not the only one,” Sterling argues back, still set on having her in there, especially now that Ben was left on his own by his family. “It’s not like our country’s fate would only rest on his shoulders. We test it now, see if it works on humans, and then inject it to top soldiers. Now, you either run home, weep about this fiasco,” he says, jabbing a threatening finger almost right into Vi’s face, “or you man up, go inside with me, and be there when history is made and your friend becomes the world’s first superhero.”

Silence sits in between them like an uninvited guest, Sterling patiently waiting for his acquaintance’s answer, and Vienne reconsidering all her choices. Ben was going to have to go through this, whether she agrees or not. That needle’s going to be jammed into him either way. Now, she can either leave him to suffer alone, or be at least a little comfort to him as whatever atrocity is about to ensue in that showroom.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 𔓎 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Present Day, Present Time.

Ben’s eyes were locked on the metal plaque towering over him, the name Fort Harmony Medical Department decorating it with big, bold letters. Out of all the places Homelander could’ve taken him, it just had to be this building. Now abandoned and missing the absurd cleanliness it once had, it still stood in relatively one piece, although properly overtaken by the vegetation of the forest surrounding it.

A few steps ahead of him was his alleged – and he couldn’t stress enough on the word ‘alleged’ – son, ready to scout the area and obtain his share of the V1, the two deciding to raid this place in hopes of finding some. Ben knew that if there was any place they’d find any V1 at, it’d be here, although he kept that for himself, still getting redirected here by the wonderful Stan Edgar. He was apparently in the Vought Tower, although Ben couldn’t meet him for himself, at least not yet. 

The duo steps into the ramshackle building, darkness and dust filling their vision and lungs as soon as they enter, evident that no man has been around this place for decades now. Unbeknownst to them, just a level below them was William Butcher and his team, searching just as feverishly for the same thing. 

…

Hughie pulls the tiny drawer out with a metallic creak, the lock on it already broken off, or perhaps rotten to nothing for all he knew. Still, the result was the same; the drawer was empty of any signs of the V1. Instead, it contained a document, or more precisely, whole stacks of it, all arranged neatly into light brown folders. He knew their focus was supposed to be on the V, but curiosity somehow got the best of him, deft fingers fishing out the folder on top. 

He dusts it off with one swift move with the side of his hand, not much changing about the folder besides that maybe Hughie won’t die on the spot due to mass dust inhalation. Careful as not to tear it apart on accident, he opens it, eyes scanning the first page. Empty. He flips it, coming face to face with what seemed like an information chart, topped with a tiny picture in the top right corner of the page. On it was a young man, hair tousled, curly and an almost ginger-ish brown, eyes deep-set and brown. It takes a long, elongated moment for Hughie to come to the realization that he didn’t have to identify the person by face — the name plastered right next to the picture. Torpedo, that was all that he could read out, most of the file damaged from how long it’s been rotting in that cabinet.

Torpedo… one of the guys from Soldier Boy’s old team…

An idea strikes Hughie’s mind, the boy tossing the folder onto the rusty table from which’s drawer he took it from, diving back into the drawer in search of the rest of the folders. Soon enough, he pulls out the rest, more than he would’ve initially expected, placing them on the table with a thud. One by one, he cracks the folders open, yellowing pages almost flaking under his fingers as he flips through them, all seemingly containing information on a different person. Capt. Daniel Smith, Sgt. Quinn Thompson, Pvt. Michael Moore, John Miller, all names Hughie couldn’t quite place, not the ones he was looking for. That is, until he lands on a folder containing a familiar image. T/4 Vivienne Barone. 

She looks the same she did over eighty years ago…

Staring back from the yellow page almost turning into dust right in his hands was Vi, face almost an exact replica of how she looked today. The only difference lay in the hairstyle, the one on the colorless photograph showcasing a much shorter haircut compared to what she had nowadays. 

Next to the image were a load of black printed letters, often mixed with somebody’s own handwriting making footnotes on the side of the paper, or scribbling over some piece of data to correct it. Hughie’s eyes scan the following pages, all seemingly reports on various tests. Radiation. Durability. Telomer-analysis. Metabolomics. Reaction time and sensory threshold. For the last fifteen or so pages, it was all on the same topic — Kinanthropometry. Measurement of body composition, muscle fiber density, and bone density. Or at least that’s the narrower path where Vought’s focus went with Vi’s case in this vast topic.

Everything Hughie knew or didn’t know about Vi was written down, in one single folder’s contents. His attention is pulled from the files by the argument brewing between the group down here with him.

“They’re right above us,” MM exhales, his phone in his hand, the haphazardly installed security device already alerting them.

“We best get the fuck out of here,” Butcher declares, giving up on his plan of finding the V seemingly easily. “Come on.”

“Hey, what about the V1?” Hughie tosses the folder onto the table, stepping in front of Butcher. The brit’s lack of interest in succeeding with the task at hand raised some questions in the boy. 

“If Bombsight has the V1, then it saves us from having to torch it,” MM speeds past the rusty cabinet that he and Butcher declared empty, drawing the conclusion that Bombsight had already taken any V that might’ve been stored there before they did. A puzzled expression sits out on Hughie's face, MM’s words dawning on him soon enough.

“What are you talking about?” He questions, although he already knew the answer. That Butcher would rather destroy the V1 than let anybody take it. “Who’s us?” With a slow, dragged out move, he turns his head into Butcher’s direction. The Brit just grins back at him contently before speaking.

“What? You think the world needs more immortal cunts, do you?” Butcher argues back, facial expressions so exaggerated that it was on the verge of looking too cartoony to be real. 

“We need it to save Annie and Kimiko,” Hughie counters, taking a step towards Butcher, as if ready for confrontation. “You’ve been planning this this whole time, haven’t you?”

“Shh!” Frenchie, the only one seemingly not affected by whatever was in the air, tries to deflect the situation, aware that the last thing they needed was a full on brawl between the team. As if Homelander wasn’t a big enough opponent to take on, this spore that was wafting through the air only worsening the situation. “Homelander will hear us.”

“And you,” Hughie continues, now turning to MM, disregarding Frenchie’s heedful words, “you’ve just been going along with it again.”

“We can’t take the risk Hughie,” MM tries to raise his point, tone calm and collected. Although, not for long. “And if she has to be collateral damage so that Homelander dies and my daughter lives,” he keeps going, referencing the fuming Kimiko standing nearby, “then we ain’t got no fucking choice.”

“Oh, easy for you to say, it won’t fucking kill you!” Kimiko hisses at the man, fed up with what he just brought up, rightfully so. It wasn’t MM’s life on the line, nor Hughie’s. Butcher on the other hand, he just seemed suicidal with this plan of his. 

“Well,” Butcher cuts in, “at least he knows when to keep his gob shut and do as he’s fucking told.”

“No, no no, we don’t have time for this, we have to find a way out!” Frenchie tries to keep the soul of the group together, with more or less – rather less – success. He yet again falls into the depths of being ignored by the others, MM already lashing out on Butcher.

“Want to know a secret, Butcher?” He retorts, menace filling his tone. “I cheered when I found out you were dying, ‘cause at least we’d finally be done with your miserable ass.”

“You know,” Hughie joins in, “I used to say to these guys, “Don’t give up on Butcher, there’s still good in him fighting to get out”. I was wrong,” he shrugs, hands falling to his sides. “If there was anything human in there, it’s dead. Underneath that chest full of octo-cocks, you are just a fucking monster.”

“Well, maybe I like it better that way!” Butcher retorts immediately.

“That parasite’s not in you, it’s you. You’re the cancer!”

“Lower your voices!” Frenchie whisper-shouts, to no avail yet again, Hughie still going at it despite the warnings.

“You are just as bad as Homelander, maybe worse. And I’m not gonna let you drag us all down with you.”

“And what’re you gonna do about it?”

“I’ll kill you,” Hughie says, tone flat and dead serious. A slimy sound cuts through the air, Butcher’s tentacles gliding over Hughie’s neck, putting him in a suffocating chokehold in the span of a second. Hughie’s gargling is cut short by Kimiko ridding Butcher of his tentacle, slamming into him with a thud, Butcher immediately tumbling into a metal shelf at the side of the room. He’s quick to counter, picking up the distracted Kimiko and pulling an uno reverse on her, now him throwing her against the crumbling wall of the building, Kimiko sliding over the same table where Hughie carefully placed all the files moments ago, the papers flying like the flakes in a snowglobe, scattering in the air.

…

The awkward silence was on and off with Homelander and Soldier Boy, the two seemingly unable to hold a decent conversation, all watering down to one throwing an insult towards the other. Silence, followed by five sentences at most, before it died down and drowned in silence again as the two scouted the building. 

“You heard that?” Homelander spoke up, ears perking up at the faint sound of something breaking nearby, his super-hearing only enhancing it for him.

“What, you’ll go after it?” Ben’s deep voice sounded from a few feet away, flashlight in his hand as he advanced ahead in this wasteland of a building. 

“It could be William Butcher and his little team for all we know,” Homelander hisses back, keen on just going by himself by this point.

“Or squatters,” Ben counters immediately, not the biggest fan of this father-son trip he miraculously got roped into. Though, he shared Homelander’s thoughts — whatever made that noise was no squatter, both of them were aware of that. “You’re gonna battle royale a tweaker?”

The clockwork in Homelander’s mind rattled, tiny cogs and wheels turning until realization dawned on him, Soldier Boy’s avoidance with the possible encounter down there maybe more intentional than he would’ve initially thought.

“You also think William’s down there,” Homelander declares, tone smooth as a flatline. “Yet you don’t feel any urgency to go and do something about it. What happened to your little revenge on him? For betraying you, for the virus, for killing the Ghost?”

Ben comes to a halt, Homelander’s words seeping into his mind, letter by letter, truth after truth, streak broken by a lie. A lie he never fully believed. Anger began to boil in him like a cooking pot of water on a stove, emotions getting the best of him, chest emitting a faint, yellowish glow.

“I know, I know,” Homelander steps closer, nodding along with that empathetic facade. Even if he wanted Soldier Boy to take care of Butcher, if he was to emit that blast right here and now, it would cost Homelander more than he would like. “William Butcher will pay for what he did, and—”

“You think I’m mad at Butcher?” Ben turns around to face his alleged son, brows knitted together, that stern look on his face. “Butcher betrayed me, and I loathe him for it, but what bothers me even more is that you keep deepthroating me with lies!”

“What lies?” Homelander sighs, outright rolling his eyes in response. “I told you, I didn’t know Butcher had the virus when I sent you there, I–”

“I fucking told you it’s not about Butcher, it’s that you really thought I’d believe that bean-eater killed off Ghost!” Ben hisses at the blonde, teeth almost grinding against each other. “I’ve seen her survive attacks with the power of a fucking nuclear apocalypse, you really expected me to believe you?”

“He almost killed you too,” Homelander remarks, although he was beginning to lose faith in himself too, his mask of confidence slipping. “That virus can do pretty ugly things, if you ask me.”

“But couldn’t because of the V1. It didn’t kill me, and it certainly didn’t kill her. You’ve been lying to my face,” Ben retorts. When he first heard Homelander hinting at the fact that Vi might be dead back when he got defrosted, he thought it was a measly, poorly executed joke. The truth was there in his heart, he was too tired to have a visceral reaction to something he didn’t even think was a fact.

Ben jams a threatening finger in Homelander’s direction, a mute alert, before turning left in the hallway, expecting his alleged son to follow him suit. He did, just as expected.