It was as if he had just heard a joke. Frenchie sneered.
"One magazine, ten rounds. I loaded it myself less than fifteen minutes ago. Fired once, should be nine rounds left.
Don't bother checking—it's just a cheap distraction trick."
Butcher's expression was uncertain, yet a sense of dread crept into his heart. His mind raced through data, trying to match the intruder to any superhuman under Vought. But no matter how he tried, none of them matched.
"Is that so?"
Russell slowly extended his hand. With a crisp clatter, bullets of varying sizes spilled onto the table.
"You goddamn super freak... telekinesis?"
Butcher and Frenchie quickly checked their guns. The magazines were indeed empty. Their hearts sank. Without making a sound, they began pulling Hughie toward the door.
The timid Hughie gasped, clutching his chest as he retreated.
Was this guy going to rip out his heart and wave it in front of his face next?
The gesture made Russell shake his head and chuckle.
The moment the three turned around, the man—table and chair included—was already standing in front of the door, in the exact same posture.
It was so uncanny that they thought it must be an illusion.
Hughie looked back and forth between where Russell had been and where he now stood. Shaking his head in disbelief, he stammered,
"How... how did you do that?"
It was the same question Frenchie and Butcher wanted to ask—both now thoroughly rattled.
But no answer came.
"Billy Butcher, where's Mallory?" Russell pointed directly at the stunned Butcher.
"Tell me, and I'll let you all go."
"You're not here to catch us?" Hughie blinked in confusion.
"Mallory?" Butcher's face tensed, fingernails digging into his palm to test if he was under some mental manipulation.
"What do you want with Mallory?"
Off to the side, Frenchie tensed up the moment he heard that name, fists clenching tightly. Even though he knew they were no match for Russell, he looked ready to fight to the death.
That name brought deep guilt.
Years ago, he was tasked with protecting Colonel Mallory's grandson. But on the very night he left for a personal matter, the boy was burned alive by Lamplighter—a former member of the original Seven.
"I just have some questions," Russell said, slowly rising from his chair. That one simple action made the three of them retreat like startled cats, nearly backing into the corner.
In this world, the number of superheroes who could even put up a fight against a Viltrumite could be counted on one hand. Among them, only two were remotely comparable in strength.
"One is Homelander. The other... is Soldier Boy."
Homelander could fly and possessed ranged attacks—laser vision—that even Viltrumites lacked. For now, he remained a difficult opponent to defeat.
But Soldier Boy was different. He couldn't fly. And he was currently imprisoned in a Russian military base, constantly sedated by being forced to inhale nerve gas so toxic it could cause mass casualties if released.
His infamous chest blast also took several seconds to charge.
To Russell, he might as well not exist.
"The challenge... is finding that base hidden somewhere within seventeen million square kilometers of Russian territory."
Colonel Mallory was formerly a high-ranking CIA official and had a complicated history—possibly even a vendetta—with Soldier Boy. It was highly likely she knew his whereabouts.
In the show's plot, even Frenchie's ex-girlfriend—a mere mob boss—was able to find this information. How could Mallory not?
"And why the hell would I tell you?" Butcher gritted his teeth. Stripped of his gun and faced with a terrifying superhuman, he felt utterly vulnerable.
"Poor Butcher. Did you know... your wife is still alive?"
"Becca? She's alive? Where is she?"
Caught completely off guard, Butcher froze. His pupils widened in shock and disbelief.
His wife, Becca, had worked in Vought's marketing department. After being assaulted by Homelander, she sat frozen on a park bench for hours—then vanished. She hadn't been seen since.
"Where is Mallory?"
Russell replied with a question of his own—calm and cold.
In just a few words, he struck Butcher's most vulnerable spot.
This was a man who, for the sake of his wife's final words, had once betrayed his own cause and teamed up with Homelander to protect the bastard child born of that assault.
The "Cuckold Avenger," as some called him.
Hearing that he might get news about Becca, Butcher hesitated for only two or three seconds before he gave up Mallory's location.
Then he asked, urgently:
"I told you where Mallory is. Now tell me where Becca is!"
"It's not that easy. Our deal isn't done yet."
With a blur, Russell appeared right beside Butcher and grabbed his shoulder. In the next instant, both of them vanished from Hughie and Frenchie's view.
"What the hell!"
"Where's Billy?" Frenchie looked around in disbelief.
BLEGH!
Butcher collapsed on the ground, retching as dizziness overwhelmed him. His head spun. When he finally looked up, he realized they were now standing on the front lawn of Mallory's home.
"You... you can teleport?" he gasped.
Being dragged by a speedster without proper bio-field shielding often led to severe discomfort. Russell couldn't be bothered to explain. He just dragged Butcher into the house.
"Butcher? Who is this?"
Colonel Mallory, stern-faced with silver hair, stood up at once, visibly displeased at the unexpected visitor.
"Where's Soldier Boy?"
Russell got straight to the point.
"Soldier Boy? What are you talking about?"
Mallory masked the flicker of shock in her eyes remarkably well. On the surface, she looked merely confused.
"Soldier Boy? Didn't he die in a nuclear meltdown back in the '80s?" Butcher asked, wiping vomit from his mouth, clearly puzzled why Russell would ask about Soldier Boy at all.
Soldier Boy had once been the crown jewel of Vought International's superhero marketing machine—the de facto Homelander of the previous generation.
He had been the most powerful known superhuman on Earth.
"If you're looking for him, go search the ruins of the Three Mile Island meltdown," Mallory added coldly.
"Everyone knows Soldier Boy died in 1984 in a nuclear power plant meltdown," she continued. "The official story is that he sacrificed himself heroically to save lives."
"Bullshit," Butcher cut in, snorting.
"I know how these Supes operate. Vought must've botched something and sent him to the disaster site.
Those media-trained glory hounds panic when faced with real danger. He probably pissed his pants and got himself killed in the meltdown."
But Mallory's earlier expression hadn't escaped Russell's notice—especially since he already knew the truth. He glanced at Butcher.
"Soldier Boy isn't dead. He went missing during a failed military support operation in Nicaragua in the late 20th century.
The Russians captured him. Vought covered it up, claiming he died in the meltdown."
"Who the hell could capture Soldier Boy? He's practically a walking hydrogen bomb!" Butcher immediately scoffed, unwilling to believe it.
But Mallory's face changed. And this time, even an idiot could see something was off.
"Wait... you're serious?" Butcher froze in disbelief.
"How do you know that?" Mallory asked, visibly shaken.
Russell had casually revealed a top-secret piece of classified information. She now stared at him with growing suspicion, feeling as though this young man radiated danger from every pore.
.....
Bonus chapter as i promised,Next target 600 stones
If you want to read 30 advanced chapters before they get Thanos-snapped, check out my p@treon.com/INTRAX (Replace @ with 'a')