Chapter 26 : Team Thug
Mother’s Milk stared at Mark for a long second, trying to figure out if the guy was joking, insane, or just naturally incapable of speaking like a normal human being.
This asshole’s mouth was somehow harsher than Butcher’s.
Which honestly felt impressive.
"Butcher," Mother’s Milk said slowly, "who the fuck is this guy?"
Butcher looked completely unbothered.
"New manpower," he replied casually.
Mother’s Milk looked back at Mark again.
"That explains nothing."
"Yeah," Hughie muttered quietly. "That’s been happening a lot lately."
***
After that, the team split up to grab supplies.
Mostly ’cause even Butcher had finally had enough of Mark’s smell.
And if Billy Butcher thought you smelled bad, that was less hygiene issue and more chemical attack.
So now the two of them were inside some run-down little clothes shop with flickerin’ lights, cracked tiles, and racks full o’ clothes that looked nicked off dead blokes.
Mark glanced around the place with disappointment written all over his face.
"Butcher," he said, "you do realize this road you’re walkin’ ends with you completely fucked in the head, right? At some point even sanity’s gonna sound like a luxury. You’ll just turn into a walking psychopath."
Butcher kept rummaging through shirts like he was grocery shopping.
"Turn into?" he snorted. "Oi, sunshine, bit fuckin’ late for that revelation."
"I’m serious."
"So am I."
Butcher finally looked over at him, expression flat.
"You don’t spend years chasin’ supes and come out normal on the other side," he said. "That ain’t how the world works."
He grabbed a dark hoodie and tossed it at Mark.
"Every poor bastard in this game’s got somethin’ broken upstairs. Difference is some o’ us stopped pretendin’ otherwise."
Mark caught the hoodie and stared at it.
"This looks like somebody got stabbed wearin’ it."
"Means it lasted."
"You people genuinely live like sewer rats."
Butcher barked out a laugh.
"And yet somehow you’re the cunt what smelled like a dead otter stuffed in a gym bag."
Then the next day came, and with it the only useful lead they had left from Translucent.
A-Train has been visiting Popclaw regularly.
So now the team was stuffed inside the back of a box van parked near her apartment building, running surveillance while trying to figure out what exactly A-Train had been hiding.
The inside of the van looked chaotic.
Old monitors flickered weakly, wires covered half the floor, and the equipment setup looked like it had been assembled entirely from stolen leftovers.
Mother’s Milk stared at one of the laptops with visible irritation.
"Butcher," he said, "where the hell did you get this equipment? Flea market?"
Frenchie looked offended immediately from the other side of the van.
"This equipment is beautiful."
"This equipment is prehistoric," Mother’s Milk shot back. "Hacking with this shit is harder than solving taxes."
Butcher stayed leaned back in his chair, completely unconcerned.
"Got to make do with what we’ve got."
Mother’s Milk muttered something under his breath and continued trying to get access into Popclaw’s apartment systems.
Behind him, Hughie suddenly spoke up carefully.
"Uh... actually, you probably don’t need to force your way into it."
Mother’s Milk glanced back at him.
"What?"
Hughie pointed toward the monitor awkwardly.
"If you get the building’s wifi IP access route, you can probably enter most of the electronic systems remotely," he explained. "Door systems, cameras, smart appliances, all of it."
The van went quiet for a second.
Mother’s Milk slowly turned toward him.
"...You can do that?"
Hughie shrugged nervously.
"I mean... yeah? Most residential security systems are honestly pretty easy to access if you know what you’re doing."
Butcher smiled slightly the moment Hughie explained it.
"See?" he said. "Told ya the lad was useful."
Mother’s Milk still didn’t look convinced.
"Fine," he said, "but what happens if A-Train shows up in the middle of this?"
The mood inside the van shifted slightly at the name.
Because no matter how reckless A-Train acted, he was still one of the strongest supes on the planet. If he arrived while they were halfway through surveillance or hacking, things could turn ugly very fast.
Mother’s Milk looked toward Butcher seriously.
"If that speed freak catches us in the middle of the operation, we’re screwed."
Butcher stayed calm.
"Nah," he said casually. "Got a backup plan for that."
Mother’s Milk frowned. "What backup plan?"
Butcher slowly turned his head toward the back corner of the van.
Mark was stretched across the seat half asleep wearing the new hoodie they bought him yesterday.
"There’s one bloke in this van whose entire job is dealin’ with that situation," Butcher said.
Mother’s Milk looked toward Mark automatically.
Honestly?
He didn’t see it.
The guy didn’t even look physically impressive. No massive build, no intimidating presence sitting there half asleep in the corner wearing a cheap hoodie like some exhausted college dropout.
And this was supposed to be their answer to A-Train?
Still, Mother’s Milk didn’t argue further.
Because as reckless and insane as Butcher could be, the man usually didn’t throw people at problems unless he believed they could survive them.
Usually.
Mark opened one eye slowly after noticing everyone staring at him.
"...Why do I suddenly feel like I’ve been volunteered for violence again?"
"You stop speedster cunt if he shows up," Butcher replied casually.
***
A/N: Advanced Chapters are available on Patreon.
👉 /Mark841
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