The Boys: Ultimate Multiversal Lifeform

Ivan didn't know much about the Church of the Collective.

But it was the second organization after Vought that could actually pull the strings on superheroes. How big a wave they could kick up, he was genuinely curious to find out.

On the other side.

Hughie had brought Starlight down to the basement in short order.

From her they got the full picture on Sage Grove. It was a psychiatric hospital sitting in the Pennsylvania countryside, officially under the World Health Organization, but the real money behind it came from Vought.

Even if Stormfront wasn't there, the place was clearly stuffed with secrets Vought didn't want daylight on.

"How's Homelander holding up?" Butcher had a cigarette clenched between his teeth. His attitude toward Starlight was still pure ice.

Everyone else was different, especially Frenchie and Kimiko. They'd already accepted her completely. After all, if Starlight hadn't stopped A-Train back then, Kimiko never would have made it out.

Starlight and Kimiko shared a quick hug before she answered. "Bad. The public noise is brutal. Every day big crowds of Polish, Asian, and Black people are camping under Vought Tower making trouble. With Homelander's current mental state, honestly, I'm a little worried he'll snap and just slaughter the whole lot of them."

"Hah…" Butcher blew out a stream of smoke, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "That's actually good news."

"Still, you need to get the fuck out of here. That chip in you will light us up like a Christmas tree. Hughie, you didn't think about that before you brought her down?"

The air went tight. Frenchie stepped in fast. "Starlight, can you tell me where the chip is? Maybe I can dig it out for you."

"Left shoulder." Starlight's face looked a little sick.

"Come with me."

Frenchie led her into the workshop, fired up a small angle grinder, cut into the skin, then took a pair of tweezers and carefully worked them into the wound. After a bit of probing he finally pulled out a thin tubular tracker. "Little bastard was buried pretty deep."

Meanwhile out in the main room Hughie couldn't keep quiet. "Look, you should cut her some slack. She risked her neck to get us real intel on Vought."

"Hold that thought. I need to take this." Butcher yanked his phone out of his pocket, looking thoroughly annoyed, and walked toward the corner as he answered.

"Hey, Joseph, long time. What? The head of the Heroes' Support Group wants to see me? I barely know the guy. You do realize I'm a wanted man, right? Special circumstances. Not exactly in a position to meet anyone."

"He says he can help me? Oh come on, mate, don't take the piss. Who the fuck does he think he is, the director of the FBI?"

Butcher's face shifted from casual to stone. He hung up and turned to the others. "I'm heading out. Should be back tonight."

He drove toward Queens and finally stopped in front of a restaurant tucked into a forgotten corner that looked like it had been abandoned for years. Butcher rolled down the window, scanned the street, made sure there was no ambush, then reached under the seat, pulled out a pistol, and tucked it into his waistband.

"I'm here. Where are you?"

He sent the text, yanked the keys out of the ignition.

"Second floor of the restaurant. I see you."

Butcher looked up from the new message. Sure enough, a man in a black suit stood at the window holding a can of soda, raising it toward him in a toast.

The man had the same full beard as Butcher, only his was clearly trimmed with precision.

Butcher pushed through the restaurant's glass door and headed up the stairs to the second floor.

"Billy Butcher. Pleasure to finally meet you." The man stood with polished manners to greet him.

"Heard you can help me."

Something about the guy set Butcher's teeth on edge. He came off like a cross between a cult preacher and a professional hypocrite. Every move felt staged.

"Of course. Please, sit. Care for some orange soda?"

"I'd rather have a beer."

"What a shame."

"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Alastair, leader of the Church of the Collective. I run quite a few businesses. We used to work with Vought, still do, actually. We've got more dirt on superheroes than you could ever imagine." Alastair snapped his fingers. A waiter appeared almost instantly and set plates in front of them.

"So you want to screw Vought over?" Butcher picked up the knife and fork on his plate, keeping the question casual.

Alastair shook his head.

"Let's not use such ugly words. Betrayal? Vought and I are simply partners. I take in the poor lost souls with nowhere else to go, help them sort out their mental issues, and guide them toward a new life. Of course I also do my part for Vought, giving those people a chance to return to the fold."

"Just tell me why you dragged me out here."

Butcher had zero interest in dancing with this cult freak.

"I understand Vought runs a certain psychiatric hospital. Stormfront is the administrator there. The patients locked inside are all supes. And don't bother asking how I know. The Church knows everything and is everywhere." Alastair elegantly slid a piece of steak into his mouth. Juice ran from the corner of his lips.

"You know Stormfront?" Butcher's eyes narrowed. The preacher clearly had more information than expected.

Alastair dabbed the blood-red juice from his mouth with a napkin. "Of course. She was one of my grandfather's earliest followers. Later, for reasons of her own, she left the Church of the Collective. Perhaps she decided our influence had faded too far, so she abandoned us."

Grandfather. The word immediately made Butcher think of Liberty, the old supe Hughie and the others had dug into earlier. So Stormfront and Liberty really were the same person.

"What exactly do you want us to do?"

Alastair's words made it clear that whatever power the Church once held might not have been far behind Vought's.

"Rescue those patients. I don't even need Vought's crime files. I'll send my own people with you. Your only job is to draw the Vought guards away. Leave the rest to my men." Alastair smiled.

"What do you want the patients for?"

"Sorry. That's need-to-know. What I can tell you is that the recent public mess around Homelander is my work. Agree to this and I'll keep the pressure going. Refuse, and Vought's offer is already quite generous. I'm perfectly happy to keep working with them."

Alastair drained the soda in one go and waited patiently for Butcher's answer.

At the mention of Vought a flicker of real anger showed in his eyes. Ivan Greevs' attitude had clearly pushed him past the point of polite negotiation.

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Read 12 Advance Chapters—P@t- Captain69