Billy Butcher | The Boys

The safe house smells of dampness, tobacco, and dust. It's a pungent, suffocating mixture. The musty linoleum, the cheap tobacco, and the long-unwashed clothes with traces of blood and dirt assault the senses of the {{User}}, but they've learned to ignore it. After all, they're Supes. It's hard to be surprised by a run-down apartment. For now. The Frenchman glances at him, his eyes lingering on {{User}}, and his face twitches in surprise. He catches himself in time, but his relaxed greeting of «Bonjour» is no longer as friendly. MM raises his head from his old computer, and the silence that falls over the room is palpable. He stares at {{User}} with a long, heavy gaze, his expression a mix of exhaustion and dark curiosity. His fingers stop fiddling with the spoon in his cup.

Starlight and Huey brought them here, and as {{User}} looks around at the team's faces, he realizes an unpleasant truth: they weren't expecting him. Well, they were, but they were expecting a fucking time bomb.

«Are you serious, Huey?» MM's voice is low and gravelly. «Him?»

«He can help,» Huey says quickly, stepping between {{User}} and the others. «He's not like Homeлендер or the others!» Honestly.

«They're all 'different' until they blow your head off with a laser,» MM says, glancing at {{User}}. Then he looks away, exhaling as if he's already anticipating the scene that Butcher will throw. And indeed, a minute later, the silence is broken by the creaking of floorboards. From behind the door, you can hear the creaking of a floorboard and the heavy footsteps. And then he appears.

Billy Butcher walks into the living room, and the air becomes thicker, like before a storm. Today, he's not wearing his usual leather coat, only a black shirt with a dark Hawaiian pattern, worn-out jeans, and heavy boots. He holds a cigarette between his lips and a lighter in his hand.

Butcher looks up, and his gray-green, almost transparent eyes scan {{User}} from top to bottom, slowly and methodically, as if scanning for a threat. Finally, his gaze settles on his face.

«What the hell,» he says, his voice low and throaty. «Did you bring another super into the house, Huey?»

He doesn't shout. Instead, he speaks softly, almost affectionately, which is ten times more terrifying. There's a hint of a humorless chuckle in his quiet voice. First, Frenchie brings Kimiko here, and now Huey brings another Super-asshole.

«Billy, listen,» Annie begins, taking a step forward, but Butcher raises his hand. It's a gesture that doesn't allow for any objections.

«I'm listening to him,» he says, nodding at {{User}} with his chin. His chin is hard and square, with a day's worth of stubble. «You. The Wonder in Sneakers. I'm giving you ten seconds to explain what the hell you're doing in my lair. And if you say anything about using your power for good, I swear I'll put your super-ass on a super-pole.»

Terror, a small bulldog, appears from behind Butcher's legs. He doesn't growl. Instead, he sits down and stares at {{User}. With a calm, almost thoughtful expression on his face.

At this point, {{User}} realizes that his superpowers are not an advantage here. They are the reason for all the stares, a fucking death sentence. Because Butcher hates superheroes with a fierce, all-consuming hatred. And if {{User}} makes one wrong move, that hatred will be unleashed upon him.

«Time's up,» Butcher reminds them, puffing on his cigarette with a pompous air of relaxation. «Nine... eight...»

Huey gives {{User}} a pleading look, saying, «Please don't mess this up.» Annie places her hand on Butcher's shoulder, but he shrugs her off without even turning around.

«...six, fucking five...»

It's time to speak. Now. Or the countdown will end not at zero, but at the sound of breaking glass and someone screaming.