Chapter 33 : Compound V
The next day, the Boys were still cramped inside the surveillance van parked across from Popclaw’s apartment building.
And after hours of watching the monitors, everyone’s patience was starting to wear thin.
Because despite all the surveillance, they still hadn’t found anything useful. No hidden meetings, no suspicious packages, no clue about what A-Train had been doing the day Robin died.
What they had found was far too much footage of Popclaw and A-Train hooking up.
Frenchie leaned back against the equipment with visible exhaustion.
"Are you sure this is leading somewhere?" he asked while staring at another camera feed. "Because at this point all we have learned is that those two require professional help."
Mother’s Milk sat near the front of the van going through copied files from Popclaw’s systems while Butcher remained focused on the monitors beside Frenchie.
"Yeah," Butcher replied calmly. "Somethin’ about this still stinks."
Frenchie frowned slightly.
"That is not evidence."
"No," Butcher admitted, "but instincts usually keep me alive longer than facts."
Near the rear door, Hughie had been pacing restlessly for almost ten minutes before finally stopping.
"So we’re really not going to look for Mark?"
That pulled everyone’s attention toward him briefly.
"He’ll turn up."
Hughie looked frustrated immediately.
"You don’t know about that."
The image from yesterday still bothered him badly.
Mark had looked completely out of control before he disappeared. Bleeding from his nose and ears, screaming in pain, then suddenly launching himself into the sky like something had broken inside him.
And now nobody even knew where he was.
"He helped us with Translucent," Hughie said. "And yesterday he still went after A-Train to buy us time."
He paused briefly before continuing more quietly.
"He looked seriously messed up before he left."
Butcher finally looked away from the monitors and toward Hughie properly.
"Do you know what messed up is?" he asked in a quieter tone than usual. "What’s really messed up?"
Hughie stayed silent.
"These supes strut around the world like bloody gods," Butcher continued. "Smilin’ for cameras, shakin’ hands, givin’ speeches about justice while ordinary people get flattened underneath ’em."
His expression hardened slightly.
"And A-Train?" he said. "That speedster cunt ran straight through your girlfriend like she was nothin’."
Hughie’s face tightened immediately at the memory.
"But instead o’ focusin’ on that," Butcher continued, "you’re worried about one supe who lost control of himself."
The van stayed quiet while Hughie looked down briefly.
"I’m not saying forget Robin," Hughie replied after a moment. "I just..."
Before he could finish, Frenchie suddenly leaned forward toward the monitors.
"Look."
Everyone’s attention shifted immediately.
Inside Popclaw’s apartment, the mood had changed completely. A-Train no longer looked relaxed. He was pacing around the room irritated while Popclaw watched him carefully from the couch.
Then A-Train spoke sharply.
"Where’s the Compound V?"
The van went quiet instantly.
Popclaw frowned slightly.
"Babe, you shouldn’t be overusing that stuff."
A-Train dragged a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Shockwave’s the problem," he snapped. "What if I lose tomorrow?"
"You’re not gonna lose," Popclaw replied quickly. "You’re the fastest man alive."
A-Train laughed bitterly at that.
"Until I’m not."
His voice lowered slightly after that.
"You know what Stillwell told me? If I don’t win, I’m out. Nobody wants the second fastest man in The Seven."
Meanwhile Popclaw kept trying to calm him down.
"That stuff amps you up too much," she warned. "Remember last time?"
A-Train immediately avoided the topic.
"Last time’s not happening again," he said. "I’m under control."
Popclaw stared at him for a second before answering quietly.
"You ran through a girl, baby."
The words hit Hughie like a punch.
"That’s not what I’d call control."
The van became completely silent after that.
A-Train looked irritated now more than guilty.
"I need it," he muttered. "I have to win tomorrow."
Then the argument shifted again until finally Popclaw walked toward a hidden bag near the room and pulled out a small box.
Inside it were several blue vials.
A-Train grabbed one immediately.
Back inside the van, Frenchie frowned deeply.
"What the hell is Compound V?"
Butcher slowly smiled while staring at the screen.
"Seems that’s what A-Train was carryin’ the day he splattered your girlfriend," he said toward Hughie. "See? Told ya somethin’ was hiding in plain sight."
The footage continued playing while A-Train looked excited at the vial.
Mother’s Milk leaned closer to the monitor.
"That ain’t steroids."
"No," Butcher agreed quietly. "And whatever the fuck it is, Vought clearly doesn’t want the public knowin’ about it."
His eyes stayed fixed on the vial.
"Now I’m even more certain these supes ain’t born special like the company claims."
The smile on his face slowly returned.
"And all we’ve got to do now..." Butcher said while staring at the monitor, "...is get our hands on that blue shit."
Frenchie looked at him like he’d already gone insane again.
"And how exactly do you plan to do that?" he asked. "Walk up to Popclaw and politely ask for her secret drug stash?"
He pointed toward the screen where A-Train was still holding the vial.
"She is still a supe, Billy. One bad move and she throws us through a wall."
Butcher didn’t look concerned.
"Who said anythin’ about Popclaw?"
"A-Train’s race is tomorrow."
Mother’s Milk immediately understood where this was going.
"You think he’s carrying it with him."
"Course he is," Butcher replied. "That speedster junkie ain’t riskin’ bein’ away from it before the biggest race o’ his career."
Frenchie still looked skeptical.
"And your brilliant idea?"
"We break into the stadium," Butcher said casually. "Nick the Compound V and figure out what the fuck it actually is."
*****
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👉 /Mark841
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