The rendezvous point was a fish market at 4 a.m., the air thick with the stink of brine and decay. It was a place designed to overwhelm super-senses. I stood cloaked in invisibility, watching the fog roll in from the water, my own mind a cacophony of silent screams. Ember's rage flickered at the sight of the iced fish, a bizarre association. Graviton's cold analysis assessed the structural weaknesses of the rotting piers. I was a haunted house, and the ghosts were getting restless.
Butcher emerged from the shadows, looking more gaunt and feral than ever. He was alone.
"Show yourself," he grunted, lighting a cigarette.
I let the invisibility drop, the black energy of my form a stark contrast to the grey dawn. Butcher didn't flinch.
"Still playing dress-up, I see."
"It's the uniform of the enemy," I replied, my voice a low rumble. "You learn to wear it. You said you had a lead."
"A lead? Mate, we've got the whole bloody map." He pulled a data stick from his pocket, holding it up like a holy relic. "The source. The patient zero of this whole fucking plague. The lab where it all started."
The implications were staggering. Proof of Vought's origins, the lies, the non-accidental nature of Compound V. It was the key that could unlock every door.
"How?" I asked, the strategist in me, a blend of my own mind and Graviton's, immediately running scenarios.
"Your little stunt at the bank caused a rift," Butcher explained, a vicious grin splitting his face. "Someone high up in Vought's old guard got nervous. Thinks Homelander's a loose cannon and Edgar's a soulless accountant. They see you as a potential… stabilizer. They reached out. Wants to trade this for a guarantee of protection when the house of cards falls."
A defector. This was Edgar's feared "internal equilibrium" shattering in real-time. My public act of heroism was paying dividends I never expected.
"Who?"
"Doesn't matter. What matters is the location. A decommissioned bioweapons facility in upstate New York. 'The Aerie.' It's where Frederick Vought and his wife first perfected the formula. All the original research is there, buried in a sub-level archive. Untouched. The original sin, preserved in amber."
My mind raced. This was the ultimate prize. But it was also the ultimate trap.
"It's a fortress," I stated. "And Edgar will have it watched. Homelander might even use it as bait."
"Obviously," Butcher scoffed. "That's why you're not going to steal it. You're going to be assigned to secure it."
The brilliance of it was breathtaking. Use my new position within Vought to legally access the one place that could destroy them.
"Mallory and Edgar want me for 'delicate' operations," I mused. "They're positioning me against Homelander. A potential security review of a sensitive site would be a perfect test of my loyalty and a subtle jab at him."
"There you go," Butcher said. "Use their own games against them. You get in, you use that fancy mind of yours to copy the data, and you get out. We leak it to the world, and Vought drowns in the truth."
It was clean. It was smart. And it was impossibly dangerous.
"And what about the defector?" I asked. "The one who gave you this?"
Butcher's grin vanished. "He's our insurance. He stays in the wind until the job is done. Now, you'd better get back to your golden cage. Your master is probably wondering where his new pet is."
As I flew back to Vought Tower, the data stick felt like a lead weight in my pocket. This was the beginning of the endgame. But the voices in my head were divided. Graviton saw the flawless logic. Ember screamed for the fire to start now. The Hypnotist whispered of the ways I could manipulate both Edgar and Homelander to ensure my own survival.
But beneath it all, my own voice, the one that was slowly being buried, cried out a warning. This wasn't just a mission. It was a point of no return. Succeed, and I topple an empire. Fail, and I die. And the twelve ghosts I carried would die with me, their final revenge being my utter annihilation.
Back in my sterile apartment, I didn't sleep. I stared at the city, the data stick on the table before me. I was a double agent in a triple-cross, my sanity fraying, holding the fate of the world in my hand.
The first crack in the foundation had appeared. Now, I had to bring the whole damn temple down.