Chapter Text
Working with The Seven was the greatest thing that any supe could hope for. That’s what was drilled into your head since you first discovered your powers. All over the media, The Seven were treated like celebrities. They were what every supe should strive to emulate. To be invited to the Vought building for a meeting was a dream come true.
You sat listening to a Vought staff member explain the bullet points of the contract, your eyes skimming over the papers in front of you on the desk. The fact that they wanted you to work for them still felt too good to be true. You’d never imagined that Vought would be interested in your powers. You didn’t even think they knew you existed.
While you read over the contract again, you heard a door open across the room and you tensed in your seat. Stealing a glance through your eyelashes, you saw him pausing just past the doorway while another Vought employee gestured in your direction. For just a second, your gaze locked with his. The same blue eyes you’d seen on television so many times, the same smile taking form on his lips.
“This is Séance,” the employee introduced you.
“Séance.” Your Vought-assigned supe name rolled off his tongue in a way that made a small smile tug at the corners of your lips. He began walking towards the desk where you were sitting, taking slow and confident steps. “What did you say her power was?” The question was directed at the man walking behind him rather than you, but you chalked it up to him not wanting to interrupt your conversation.
Your powers were a rarity and you knew it, but they weren’t flashy enough to put you in the spotlight. They weren’t even the sort of powers that could be used in a fight unless you were really going all out and if you did, it made you pretty dangerous. Raising the dead, speaking to the dead. They weren’t the powers of a media-friendly supe.
The reason for your visit that day was a proposal from Vought. A simple contract that would hold you legally responsible for reviving any supe that they needed you to. If a supe met an untimely end and Vought wasn’t ready to let them go, you would need to bring them back to life. Of course, the contract also included stipulations about your future involvement outside of the company.
Once the contract was signed, you found yourself sitting across the desk from him and trying to hide your excitement. There were butterflies in your stomach when he directed his smile at you again. You had admired this man for years and now you were going to be working with him. When you heard him call you “Séance”, you swore you felt your heart beat faster.
Homelander leaned back in his chair, his eyes skimming you up and down. Though you tried to assure yourself that he was just looking at your super suit, you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. This was Homelander. The top supe! The guy that everyone looked up to!
When he lifted his eyes back to yours, there was a strange tension in your chest. You couldn’t figure out why, at first. All he did was look at you, but there was a sudden uneasiness prickling at the surface of your brain.
“So how does this work? I just give you my consent to revive me if I die?” There was a hint of something in his tone that made your smile falter. Something bordering on condescension.
“No, it’s a little more complicated when it comes to people. I can resurrect someone if I have their name and picture, but the more I know about them, the longer they’ll stay alive. If I know someone really well, every little detail about who they really are, then I can make the revival permanent. Otherwise, it only lasts a few days at most.”
When you saw the shift in his expression, something about it made your heart start to sink. Flickers of anxiety made you begin to fidget with your pen. He was still smiling at you from across the desk, but it wasn’t the same smile you’d seen in interviews. The longer you looked, the stronger that anxiety became, until you wanted to push your chair back just to get a little distance between you.
As if he could read your thoughts, a red-gloved hand reached across the table and wrapped around your wrist. It was a tight grip, his fingertips pressing at your skin through the material of his glove. “Well, we don’t want that, do we? What would the world do if they lost me?” A low chuckle escaped him as he shook his head. “Can you imagine what would happen if I died? Me?”
That urge was becoming stronger. Adrenaline was rushing through you, instincts screaming at you to leave. You fumbled, trying to think of an excuse to leave the room for even just a few minutes, but his grip tightened as soon as you opened your mouth.
“If you’re going to revive me, I don’t want you to half-ass it,” he hissed, sharply pulling your arm and making your midsection slam against the edge of the desk. “So, let’s get acquainted. I don’t care how long it takes. You’re not leaving this building until I know I can trust you to keep me alive.”
It’s been eight years since you walked into the Vought building and signed that contract. Eight years since your meeting with Homelander, eight years since you spent a month trapped in what can only be described as a living nightmare. Even after you put so much distance between you and Homelander, you still have horrific dreams about it sometimes.
You’re in the process of pushing down the lingering details of one of those dreams when the bell above the door chimes. A look towards the entrance shows a pair of tourists wandering in. Putting on the warm, friendly smile that you’ve mastered over the years, you call a greeting. “Let me know if you have any questions about anything.”
The man nods as the woman starts walking along the row of carved wooden knick-knacks. She pauses when she’s halfway down the row and turns to smile at him over her shoulder. He quickly walks to catch up with her.
After everything that happened at that meeting, Vought attempted to do damage control. They didn’t want to risk you canceling the contract and offering your…services…elsewhere. You were given money, you were given the promise that they would hide you from him for your own protection. What they gave you was a relocation to this tourist town in the middle of nowhere.
You’ve been running this gift shop alone for the last eight years. Taxidermy, toys and gifts, locally made ice cream, old-fashioned candy, jerky made from any livestock or hooved animal you can think of. It’s a shop that is a comfortable distance from the town and it’s just off the highway.
Just as you’re considering closing early, you notice the woman with long black hair standing in front of the ice cream case. The man comes up beside her and you can hear him quietly asking her something. She smiles and responds in sign language. It isn’t rare that you have customers that sign, but it’s been a while since you had one.
“Do you want to try a sample?” Approaching the case from the other side, you can see her nodding. “Which one were you looking at? The only flavor I don’t recommend is the jalapeno one. They’re still figuring out the spice level on it.”
“Just chocolate. Right, Kimiko?” The man looks at his companion and she nods. “Can I try a sample of the bourbon caramel?”
It’s the first time you’re hearing the man’s voice and you’re a little surprised by his accent. As you get a couple of sample spoons, you look at your unusual customers again. She is eagerly waiting for the sample spoon, but he is looking over his shoulder at the entrance. You gather a small scoop for each of them and without looking up, you speak. “Expecting a third?”
Across the case, the man turns his gaze back to you. “What makes you think that?” He accepts the sample spoon from you, but doesn’t miss the way you’re staring directly into his eyes.
You contemplate your options. If these two are supposed to be a distraction while someone else comes in to shoplift or rob you, you’ll have to act quickly. At the same time, you can’t dismiss the idea that they might really just be a pair of tourists who are trying to stick to a schedule. Your eyes briefly shift to the door to the back of the shop, knowing that you’ll have to take them down quickly if they are here to do something nefarious.
The bell above the door jingles again, dragging your attention back to the entrance, and you feel your heart sink. The man stepping into your shop has messy black hair and a dark beard. He’s wearing a long black coat and it’s hanging open to reveal a patterned shirt underneath. He lingers near the door for a moment, hands in his pockets as he looks around the shop.
Even though you’ve never met him in person, you’ve heard about him. He’s like a harbinger of death when it comes to supes. You take a step back from the case when his eyes meet yours and you see the corner of his mouth lift into a smirk. The two “tourists” don’t seem at all surprised to see him and it only confirms your fear that these two were the calm before a storm.
You can hear the thud of his heavy steps on the wooden floorboards as he approaches the ice cream case and you move. Keeping your eyes on his as you walk further down the counter, putting yourself closer to the back office and the taxidermy mountain lion that’s perched near the door. One touch and you can resurrect it, one touch and you can distract him long enough for you to get into the back office to grab your son and escape.
“Maybe you didn’t see the sign on the door,” you start, subtly reaching a hand towards the cougar. Despite your warning tone, he’s still walking toward you. “It says “no bastards”. I’m pretty sure that applies to you, Mr. Butcher.”
“Come on. You don’t even know why I’m here.” He stops just on the other side of the counter, his hands still in his pockets and his lips curved into a smirk. Tilting his head slightly, his eyes shift to where your fingertips are hovering just above the mountain lion’s back. “Wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
You’re not sure what he thinks he can do to stop a reanimated cougar, but you still hesitate. Thinking about your son, napping peacefully in the back office. Gritting your teeth, you draw your hand back just a little. “What do you want? You have someone that you want me to resurrect? Or someone dead that you want me to interrogate?”
He rests an arm on the counter and leans forward. “Temptin’, but I came here with a different sort of request. You’re out of the hero business, aren’t you? Just runnin’ this tourist trap off the side of the highway in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere. Vought’s still keepin’ tabs on you.”
“I know.” You manage to keep a firm tone and you settle your hand on the taxidermy puma. “I owe them-”
“Do ya? See, the way I heard it, Vought’s the reason why you got into that mess to begin with,” he challenges you, tapping a finger against the countertop. “Think about it real careful, now. Do ya really owe ‘em anything?”
“I have a contract-”
“You got a piece of paper and a promise. And what’d they do? They put you in a place like this and told you you’d be safe. Isn’t that right? Just how safe do you think you are?” Butcher leans closer and you can faintly catch the scent of black coffee mixed with a hint of whiskey as he speaks. “If I was able to find ya, how easy do you think it’d be for Homelander?”
Just hearing that name is enough to make you tense up. Your pulse quickens and you bite deeper into the inside of your cheek. “What do you want from me? And what are you offering?”
“Smart girl.” He lifts his hand to beckon you closer to the counter. “Come here.”
You’re hesitant to get closer to him, but take a few steps forward. For just a moment, your eyes dart in the direction of his two accomplices and you can see that they’re lingering near the ice cream case. As if they’re planning to order a scoop after Butcher is done.
“I need you to take a knife to your arm,” he starts, dragging your attention back to him. “Dig out your chip and ditch it somewhere. Then I’m gonna need you to disappear.”
“What the fuck?!” Stepping back, you’re more than a little horrified. Not just by the fact that he just told you to dig around in your arm with a knife, but the insinuation that you’ve been microchipped like some sort of pet. “Why do I need to disappear?” you hiss, leaning forward again.
“If ya know what’s good for you, you’ll do it.”
Long after he’s gone, you’re still replaying his words in your head. Why do you need to disappear? This man, this maniacal harbinger of supe death, tracked you down just to tell you to leave. There has to be a reason for it and the more you think about it, the more panicked you become. He knows something that you don’t know and something in your gut makes you unable to push your fear aside.