THE BOYS: The Wrong Main Character

Inside the van, Butcher listened while M.M. and Frenchie ran through what happened at the coffee shop.

Hughie still hadn’t come back. The atmosphere was quieter for it.

"So the cunt changed his hair colour," Butcher said. "What’s next, he discovered fashion?"

M.M. looked irritated immediately. "Billy, it ain’t about the damn hair."

Butcher waited.

M.M. folded his arms. "The way he talked felt wrong. Like he already knew what we’d been doing these last few days even though nobody told him shit."

Frenchie nodded. "And he knew about Compound V immediately."

Butcher’s expression sharpened slightly.

"You seriously telling me that doesn’t bother you?" M.M. said.

"Guy disappears for almost a week, comes back with new powers, somehow knows what we’re investigating, and casually tells us the shipment ain’t even there." His voice dropped. "That’s suspicious as hell."

"Maybe he already knew about Compound V before we did," M.M. added. "Maybe he’s working for Vought."

Frenchie said nothing.

It wasn’t impossible. Most supes tied back to Vought eventually.

Butcher stayed quiet for a moment. "Probably not. The cunt helped us sort out Translucent."

"That don’t prove anything."

Butcher didn’t argue.

Because another thought was already forming. If Mark recognised Compound V on sight, maybe he knew where Vought stored it too. That possibility interested Butcher considerably more than floating coffee cups.

He looked back at M.M. "So what’d he actually look like?"

M.M. frowned. "Different. Couldn’t read his face anymore. Same dumb smile but something felt off."

Frenchie leaned forward slightly. "And he stopped a falling coffee cup without turning around. Then it floated into his hand."

Butcher slowly raised an eyebrow. "Telekinesis now, is it?"

Frenchie spread his hands. "I am merely reporting events as they occurred."

The van went quiet.

"Well," Butcher muttered, "whatever happened to the little prick... sounds bloody useful."

"Yeah, figured you’d think like that."

All three of them turned immediately.

Mark sat in the back seat eating candy from a plastic bag like he’d been there the whole time. Nobody had heard the doors open. Nobody had noticed him at all.

M.M. stiffened. Frenchie blinked twice.

Butcher’s eyes narrowed. "Oi. Yer supposed ter make a bloody sound when yer sneakin’ inter someone’s van, yeah?"

Mark looked up from the candy bag. "Why?"

"Cause normal people don’t suddenly appear behind other people like creepy little bastards," Butcher said.

Mark leaned back against the seat. "Which makes this whole conversation real annoying. I’ve been going out of my way helping you lot while you sit here deciding if I’m secretly Vought’s guy."

His tone dropped the joking edge.

"And if I actually worked for Vought, why the hell would I be in this van?"

M.M. said nothing.

Mark looked directly at him. "You’re giving yourselves way too much credit. I could put everyone in here down in under a minute."

The atmosphere tightened immediately.

M.M. pulled his gun and aimed it straight at Mark. "Yeah? Try it then."

"M.M—" Frenchie started.

Mark didn’t move. He tilted his head slightly and the glasses slipped down just enough — one glowing blue eye underneath, cold and steady.

The van felt smaller.

"Pull that trigger," Mark said quietly, "and it’s the last thing you ever do with that hand."

Frenchie looked toward Butcher.

M.M. kept the gun up, jaw tight, finger close to the trigger.

Then Butcher stepped forward and grabbed the weapon, forcing M.M.’s finger away from the trigger.

"M.M. Enough."

M.M. looked furious. "He threatened me."

"And you pointed a gun at a bloke who can blast yer skull from across the street," Butcher said. "Use yer bloody brain."

Butcher looked back toward M.M. and jerked his thumb at Mark.

"Mate, M.M.’s suspicious of everybody," he said. "Bloke probably checks his cereal for government trackers." He paused. "But you notice I was defendin’ ya? I trust you."

Mark raised his middle finger without hesitation. "Zero fucks about your trust."

Butcher just grinned.

The important thing was Mark hadn’t left. That alone told him enough. The bridge wasn’t burned. The kid was still useful.

"So then, mate," Butcher said, leaning back, "Compound V. You know about it?"

"Yeah."

M.M. frowned immediately. "Then why the hell didn’t you tell us about it earlier?"

Mark looked genuinely puzzled by the question. "Because nobody asked me. My job was helping you deal with dangerous supes, not handing out intelligence briefings."

Frenchie exhaled quietly from the side. "Unfortunately, that logic is technically correct."

M.M. still looked annoyed. Butcher spoke before it went anywhere.

"So what d’you actually know about the blue shit?"

Mark leaned back. "It’s one of the most protected things Vought has. If information about Compound V ever leaks publicly, the backlash would be serious."

"What kind of backlash?" M.M. asked.

Mark shrugged. "A lot. I don’t know the full picture."

"And the drug itself?"

"Enhances supes temporarily. Stronger powers, higher physical output." His tone shifted slightly. "And it’s addictive as hell."

The van went quiet.

Suddenly A-Train’s behavior made complete sense.

The paranoia, the desperation before the race, the way he’d looked completely wired stepping onto the track. It all connected.

Butcher slowly nodded to himself before looking back toward Mark. "So," he said, leaning forward slightly, "you in properly now, mate?"

Mark raised an eyebrow.

Butcher extended his hand. "You’re officially part of the team now, Mr. Distrust Issues."

Mark stared at the hand for a moment before shaking it. "Congratulations," he said flatly. "You’ve successfully recruited somebody with terrible decision-making skills."

Butcher grinned. "Yeah, sounds about right."

Then immediately after the handshake, Mark pulled a folded receipt from his pocket and slapped it against Butcher’s chest.

"But since we’re teammates now," he said casually, "pay this."

Butcher looked down at the paper, and his expression changed instantly. "The fuck is this?"

"My sweets bill."

Frenchie leaned slightly closer to see the number. M.M. looked over from the other side. All three of them went quiet for a moment, just staring at the total.

"You spent that much on candy?" M.M. said.

*****

A/N: Advanced Chapters are available on Patreon.

👉 /Mark841

Currently, 20 advanced Chapters are available