…
"AAAAH—!"
Butcher's face twisted in agony as he screamed. On the verge of suffocation, he felt like his eyes were about to burn out. He tried to shut them to stop the heat vision—
"Not enough. Keep going."
Leon sensed the motion instantly. He grabbed Butcher's head with both hands, fingers digging brutally into his eyelids—forcing them open.
"Keep firing."
Mother's Milk and Frenchie stood frozen.
As ordinary men, they could only watch—praying Butcher would endure.
Finally—
"Wryyyyyyyyyy!"
With a wildly exaggerated cry of ecstasy, Leon tossed Butcher aside like garbage. He closed his eyes for roughly two and a half seconds—
Then—
SZZZZZT—!!!!!
He tilted his head upward.
Twin brilliant golden beams erupted from his eyes, vaporizing the ceiling and splitting the night sky's cloud cover in two.
Midnight darkness—
Instantly illuminated.
"Shit!"
"He's got heat vision too?!"
Frenchie blurted out, instinctively shielding Mother's Milk.
They had made a mistake.
They hadn't just unleashed a weapon capable of killing Homelander—
They had released something worse.
…
"Cough—cough—!"
Butcher wheezed on the ground. Frenchie and Mother's Milk rushed to help him up.
"You alright?"
"Heh… not dead yet."
"But my vision's… blurred. Might be blind. Might not."
He tapped his temple. Frenchie and Mother's Milk looked like pixelated silhouettes in his sight.
After a moment—
Butcher steadied himself.
He shot the others a subtle look: Leave it to me.
Whatever his flaws, the man embodied reckless courage.
It just came in a darker shade.
"Oi," Butcher smirked, signature crooked grin in place. "You've been locked up for decades. We're the ones who got you out."
"Let's sit somewhere and have a proper talk."
"Sure."
Leon nodded casually.
"But first…"
He reached toward Butcher again.
"Not again—"
Butcher didn't resist this time.
He'd learned.
Moments later—
He stood there in nothing but red briefs.
Frenchie nearly choked trying not to laugh.
Mother's Milk turned away—but his shoulders were shaking.
Leon slipped into Butcher's leather coat with visible satisfaction.
Then he casually punched Kimiko—who was still biting him unconscious—and tossed her backward. Butcher caught her reflexively.
Mother's Milk and Frenchie retrieved Hughie from the rubble. Barely breathing.
They placed him on a makeshift stretcher.
"He needs medical attention," Mother's Milk said urgently.
"I know," Butcher replied. "But we can't lose this opportunity."
Leon was already heading for the exit.
"Wait."
He paused suddenly.
"What now?" Butcher asked warily.
"Almost forgot something."
Leon turned—
SZZZZT—
A quick burst of heat vision blasted Butcher backward.
Then Leon grabbed two fallen rifles—
Tat-tat-tat-tat—
He emptied both magazines into Mother's Milk and Frenchie.
"That's what I forgot," Leon said lightly. "An eye for an eye. Laser for laser. Bullets for bullets."
"Fair, right?"
Butcher lay motionless.
Mother's Milk and Frenchie were luckier—each had taken one bullet to the arm and one to the thigh.
Leon hadn't missed randomly.
He'd mirrored exactly where they'd shot him earlier.
"Damn," Leon muttered theatrically. "These rifles both pull left."
He crushed them into twisted metal with his bare hands.
"I'm professionally trained. When I fought Stormfront, I was dead accurate."
"Must be the guns."
He smiled at them.
"Yes, yes," Frenchie nodded rapidly. "Definitely the guns."
Mother's Milk glared at Leon with naked hatred.
Frenchie urgently whispered, "Don't. Not now. For Hughie. For Butcher. For killing Homelander. Just… endure."
After a tense moment—
Mother's Milk forced himself to nod.
"You're accurate," he muttered through clenched teeth. "The guns weren't."
"That's better."
Leon patted his wounded thigh with cheerful encouragement. Mother's Milk nearly blacked out from the pain—but forced a smile.
Moments later—
Butcher stood again, very much alive. Face dark as coal.
"Are we done now?" he asked flatly. "If there's anything else you need to get out of your system—do it."
"Let's go."
Leon grinned.
…
They followed him cautiously.
Every muscle tense.
Back in America—
But not Leon's America.
The streets radiated a different kind of corruption.
Leon walked like a tourist in a theme park.
Touching storefronts.
Staring at advertisements.
Observing Supes casually interacting with civilians.
To The Boys, it made sense—Soldier Boy's worldview was decades outdated.
But in truth—
Leon was studying.
Television had shown only fragments.
Reality was far stranger.
…
"Oh my God—!"
"Hughie—!"
Up ahead—
A familiar figure rushed toward them in panic.
The sight stirred something instinctive in Leon.
A reckless impulse rising uninvited—
And for a split second—
He felt the world shift around him.
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