My Life in Wednesday With a Vampire System

Ezekiel didn't know what the hell was happening, but he knew he had to deal with it immediately. One moment he was alone, expecting a quiet evening to himself.

The next, two men had appeared inside a locked room without even opening the door.

He let go of Hughie at once. Both arms stretched across the room and wrapped around Butcher's and Mother's Milk's necks before either man could react.

Butcher moved on instinct. The moment he felt himself being restrained, he reached for the gun inside his coat.

His fingers had barely touched it when Ezekiel noticed the movement — a stretched hand hurled Butcher into the wall. The gun slipped free and landed on the carpet a few feet away.

Butcher pushed himself off the wall, swore loudly, and charged straight at Ezekiel anyway. He only made it a couple of steps.

Ezekiel's arm shot forward and the punch connected with Butcher's jaw, sending him crashing sideways onto the sofa. Blood appeared at the corner of his mouth as he forced himself back upright.

Ezekiel slowly retracted his arms. The relaxed attitude from earlier had disappeared completely.

He looked at Hughie, then at Butcher, then at Mother's Milk. These three belonged together — that much was obvious. And none of them belonged here.

The confusion was already giving way to something colder. Whoever they were, they clearly knew one another.

He could force answers out of them if necessary, and if that failed, eliminating the two men and dealing with Hughie afterward remained an option.

Before he could make another move, a loud cracking sound echoed above them.

The next instant, a large section of the ceiling gave way. Concrete, metal supports, and broken plaster crashed directly onto Ezekiel's head and shoulders, knocking him off balance and burying him beneath the debris.

Dust immediately filled the room. Hughie stumbled backward in shock. Mother's Milk instinctively raised an arm to protect his face.

Butcher stared at the collapsed ceiling for several seconds. "Well, it seems Lady Luck's finally decided to stop ignorin' us."

Outside the building, Ethan smiled quietly. "Problem solved," he muttered.

***

Thirty minutes later, the three men sat around Ezekiel, who had been tied securely to a chair using bedsheets torn from the room.

One thing continued bothering them — with all the shouting, the fighting, and part of the ceiling collapsing, nobody had come to investigate. No security. No staff. Nothing. The entire club felt unnaturally quiet.

Mother's Milk noticed movement and looked toward the chair. "Butcher, he's waking up."

A grin slowly spread across Butcher's face. He picked up his gun, walked forward, and pressed the barrel firmly against Ezekiel's forehead. "Good mornin', sunshine," he said as Ezekiel's eyes gradually opened.

The Supe blinked several times before realizing his situation. He tried to struggle against the restraints immediately. The chair shook. The sheets tightened.

Butcher pressed the gun harder against his head. "Easy there, mate. Keep wrigglin' like that and I'll paint the wall with what's left of your brains."

The smile on his face never disappeared.

"Now, I know you Supes love pretendin' you're invincible, but even your lot tend to have a rough time when enough bullets start flyin' straight at your skull."

Ezekiel went still. Anger replaced confusion. He clenched his teeth and stared at the three men.

"What the hell do you people want? Money?"

Butcher gave a short laugh. "If we wanted money, we'd have kidnapped someone a lot richer than a stretchy televangelist. We only want one thing — the truth."

"You tell us everythin' you know about Compound V, where it's movin', and who's handlin' it, and maybe this ends with everyone still breathin'."

Ezekiel frowned. "I don't know anything about Compound V. What the hell is that even supposed to be?"

Butcher stared at him for several seconds, the smile unchanged.

"Well, that's a shame. Because we spent a bloody long time getting here, and I'd hate to discover the face of Samaritan's Embrace is completely useless."

Ezekiel pulled against the restraints. "I run charity events, television programs, and Believe Expo appearances. That's it."

"Funny thing, mate. Every ledger we found points straight toward Samaritan's Embrace. Shipments, donations, transport routes. Your organization keeps showin' up over and over again."

"And that means I personally know everything?" Ezekiel shot back. "You think I inspect every truck and every warehouse myself?"

"Either you're tellin' the truth and somebody's usin' your little religious empire without your knowledge," Butcher said,

"or you're lyin' through your bloody teeth. Personally, I'm willin' to spend all night figurin' out which one it is."

Hughie stayed near the wall, wanting absolutely nothing to do with being anywhere near Ezekiel again.

"Then start with Samaritan's Embrace," Mother's Milk said. "Who handles the logistics? Who moves the supplies? Where do they go?"

Ezekiel swallowed. "I handle the public side of things. Sermons, events, fundraising. I don't personally manage every truck and warehouse."

"Aye, maybe," Butcher said. He leaned forward and pressed the gun against Ezekiel's forehead again.

"But we've also got another problem for you, sunshine. Lotta people out there think you're a righteous man. Family values, faith, all that bollocks. Be a real shame if footage of your little evening activities found its way online."

Ezekiel's expression immediately darkened. "You're blackmailing me?"

"Call it encouragement. Your image takes one hit and your entire empire goes down the bloody drain." Butcher's smile didn't waver. "So I'd start rememberin' things real quick if I were you."

"Now spill it."

***

A/N: And on Patreon, The Boys arc started.

The Patreon version is already updated with 46 advanced chapters. If you'd like to read ahead of the public release schedule, you can join here:

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