Chapter 37 : Stake Out
After the entire stadium plan collapsed, the Boys were forced back to watching Popclaw again.
They failed to get Compound V.
What they did get instead was something far worse.
Inside Popclaw’s apartment, the atmosphere had completely changed after A-Train refused to publicly acknowledge their relationship even after winning the race.
Angry, emotional, and already unstable, Popclaw eventually took some Compound V herself.
And that was when everything went wrong.
A while later her landlord showed up at the apartment demanding overdue rent while she was still heavily under the effects of the drug.
The Boys watched the surveillance footage in stunned silence.
At first it looked awkward more than dangerous.
Then suddenly it turned horrifying.
One moment the landlord was alive—
the next his skull collapsed violently under Popclaw’s enhanced strength during the sexual encounter.
Blood sprayed across the room while the body dropped lifelessly onto the floor.
Inside the van, nobody spoke for several seconds.
Even Frenchie looked disturbed.
"...Jesus Christ," Hughie muttered quietly.
Mother’s Milk stared at the screen with disbelief while Butcher slowly leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
Because this changed things.
A lot.
Popclaw stumbled backward inside the apartment completely panicked once she realized what she had done. She looked down at the corpse in horror while trying to process the situation through the Compound V high still affecting her.
Then she started screaming.
Back inside the van, Butcher exchanged a look with Mother’s Milk and Frenchie.
They all understood the same thing immediately.
This was leverage.
Frenchie slowly exhaled while staring at the monitor.
"Well," he said quietly, "now she has a reason to listen to us."
The apartment door opened slowly.
Popclaw stood there pale and visibly shaking while Butcher and Frenchie entered the room carefully. The moment she saw strangers walking into her apartment after what had just happened, fear immediately crossed her face.
Frenchie’s eyes quickly landed on the corpse near the floor.
"...Merde."
The landlord’s skull was crushed beyond recognition while blood stained the carpet around the body.
Popclaw took a step backward instinctively.
"H-How did you get in here?"
Butcher calmly closed the door behind him.
"You’ve had a rough evening, haven’t ya?"
The moment he said that, panic flashed across her face.
Her eyes darted toward the body immediately.
"Who the fuck are you people?"
"Doesn’t really matter," Butcher replied casually. "What matters is we just watched you turn your landlord’s head into strawberry jam."
Popclaw’s breathing became uneven.
"You were watching me?"
Butcher gave a small shrug.
"Funny thing about hidden cameras," he said. "They do tend to record everythin’."
For a second she genuinely looked like she might collapse.
Frenchie stayed quiet near the kitchen while Butcher slowly stepped closer.
"Now listen carefully," he continued, his tone becoming colder. "You’re gonna tell us where we can find Compound V."
Popclaw immediately shook her head.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Butcher smiled faintly.
"Don’t waste my bloody time. We know A-Train’s using it, we know Vought’s hiding it, and now we’ve got you standing over a dead body while high off the stuff."
Popclaw glanced at the corpse again and visibly fought the urge to panic.
"If you don’t cooperate," Butcher continued calmly, "this footage goes public. Police get it. Vought gets it. Every news station in America gets it."
"No..." she whispered.
"Yeah."
The apartment fell silent for several seconds except for her uneven breathing.
Finally Popclaw raised a shaking hand to her forehead.
"...If I help you," she asked quietly, "will you cover this up?"
Butcher looked at her for a moment before answering.
"Help us get the blue shit," he said calmly, "and maybe this little accident stays between friends."
***
Following the information they forced out of Popclaw, the Boys tracked a quiet noodle shop on Division Street in New York that Vought apparently used as a discreet distribution point for Compound V.
From the outside the place looked completely ordinary.
Small restaurant.
Cheap signboard.
Crowded street traffic.
The trio sat at a coffee table near the window of the shop while quietly watching the street outside.
"Where did Butcher go?" Hughie asked eventually after realizing Billy had disappeared again without explanation.
Frenchie barely looked up from the shop.
"Don’t know," he replied. "That man treats planning like classified military information."
Mother’s Milk snorted lightly.
"He probably wandered off to smoke and threaten somebody."
Then suddenly someone tapped Mother’s Milk on the shoulder from behind.
"Hi."
M.M. answered automatically without thinking.
"Yeah, hi."
A second later he froze.
Slowly, he turned around in his seat—
and stared.
Standing behind him was a tall figure with white hair, dark sunglasses, and a black hoodie hanging loosely over his shoulders.
Mother’s Milk frowned immediately.
"Who the fuck are you?"
The man tilted his head slightly.
"Uh... Mark," he answered casually. "Duh."
The moment Hughie and Frenchie heard the voice, both of them turned instantly toward him.
For a second none of them spoke.
Because despite recognizing the voice, the appearance threw them off completely.
The white hair alone made him look like a different person.
Frenchie blinked twice before narrowing his eyes.
"...Did you dye your hair?" he asked suspiciously.
*****
A/N: Advanced Chapters are available on Patreon.
👉 /Mark841
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