Hemostasis 3.6
"I still remember running through these halls. I would literally dash right through here when I was running after math class. I remember one time, a bunch of kids gathered in the corridor..."
Turning to the camera, I looked away with a slight sadness in my eyes, trying as hard as I could to portray a nostalgic look. My image was built on an element of mystery, however, in this situation, when I was talking about my past, I needed to show at least a little bit of the "real me."
Or rather, the one the public wants to see. And of course, I could have dropped the act and just behaved however I wanted, but something in my chest demanded that I act seriously.
The realization just somehow unexpectedly came to my mind that children living in other orphanages might look up to me. And since the topic of orphanages is rarely raised among the masses, they don't have a positive role model. Of course, I understood that I was unlikely capable of changing much, but if even one child looks at me, gets inspired by the image of a hero, and doesn't become a criminal, then the whole circus and the games justified themselves.
In essence, this is the best way to prevent crime, albeit the most difficult one. However, when have difficulties ever stopped heroes?
"I remember how my friends and I used to relax here after classes and read comic books. About heroes, of course... No, no, you don't even need to ask who my favorite was... Let that remain a secret..."
Most people don't even realize what a grueling process it is to shoot even a one-hour quasi-documentary film. It's not just a group consisting of a cameraman, a few assistants, and one poor actor in my person. We needed makeup artists, costume designers, screenwriters, people responsible for lighting, equipment, sound, and much more. Therefore, even though I was the only one showing off in the frame, a whole crowd of specialists walked everywhere with me.
"Of course, it was not easy for me then, especially right after the death of my parents, but I was immediately given help at the orphanage. It was here that they helped me understand that life doesn't end with one tragedy and that the whole of life is still ahead. I hope I haven't wasted it just like that..."
I walked through the corridors of Red River, casting a glance at the old places. One part of the building was specially allocated for me so that the children wouldn't interfere with the filming. Of course, this wasn't even our proposal, but simply the work of Vought and the local administration. Say what you will, but the overall situation here clearly hasn't changed.
And even though they clearly managed to do some cosmetic repairs over a decade, the place didn't start looking significantly better. The unpleasant and not very kind atmosphere of some kind of constraint and control still presses on the mind. Well, or maybe it's just my feelings.
"Ha, yes, back then I also had a special relationship with the teachers. I wasn't highly engaged in the lessons and just loved looking out the window at the clouds, but it was thanks to the right mentors that they managed to instill a love of learning in me..."
Over the years, I had learned to control my facial expressions almost perfectly, however, it was hardest to control my eyes. My gaze reflexively dropped to the familiar Black man, currently carrying a box with some equipment, and the bearded man, dressed in a blue t-shirt and jeans, which strongly contrasted with his past "tough" look. Butcher and Mother's Milk had temporarily become part of the film crew, and it was incredibly difficult not to pay attention to them.
Arranging the shoot was simple. I merely called Margo and asked to conduct the shoot at Red River as part of Neuman's program to sponsor orphanages and draw attention to the growing problem of orphans. She immediately perked up and started arranging everything.
Margaret was especially pleased by the fact that I was ready to give most of my fee to her and spend the rest on charity. And for all this, I asked only a tiiiny little favor—for two people, whom acquaintances had asked me to employ, to be included in the film crew. Of course, this did not become a problem.
"No, no, I was always one of the 'quiet' kids. I tried not to get into danger, but there weren't particularly many conflicts either..."
Undoubtedly, dozens of other plans could have been devised on how to get the "Boys" crew inside. It's simply that during filming it is much easier to get the necessary people even into a guarded and restricted area, while possessing a small number of documents.
And Red River was exactly that—not an outright secret, but a maximally classified place, the grim details of which no one should know. They only agreed to the filming on the condition that they would have the right to edit the material and would have the ability to remove anything that didn't suit them.
The "Boys" themselves suggested some complex schemes involving swapping people and bribing the right individuals. It was immediately obvious that they had no experience working in this field. Just a couple of requests, a set of forged documents created personally at the CIA, and now two new assistants had appeared on my team, whom no one cared about.
Frenchie had to be left at the base, as he was essentially just not needed here and only increased the risks of exposure. Butcher and Milk's main role here was purely in case the former pulled something. Well, or if things got hot and issues needed to be resolved by force. But we won't let it come to that.
"And lunches with breakfasts and dinners were and still are held here. I'll be honest, even though the food here doesn't look particularly appetizing, it tastes surprisingly good..."
We were allowed to film in most of the orphanage, except our entire route was strictly predetermined. Not a step aside, without the possibility of encountering children in "unauthorized" places for this. I don't know why they are so paranoid, but orphans could only be spotted in three places: in the nursery with the youngest children, in the common hall which is yet to be visited, and, actually, in the cafeteria.
True, there were only about two dozen children here right now; I suspect they all belong to the category of the calmest and least susceptible to strange mutations. This was also indicated by the fact of how quietly they sat. No unnecessary movement or attempts to somehow attract attention to themselves.
The calmness classic for this place. The children behaved as apathetically as possible and only occasionally threw curious glances in our direction.
At first, I tried to find someone, however, it all turned out to be fruitless. I had left the orphanage a long time ago, but I was interested in meeting an old acquaintance, which is why I even used my power. Blood carries a unique marker for each person, which is much easier to identify than faces or fingerprints.
Two identical drops from two different people cannot exist by definition. And the most curious thing is that I managed to find Marvin! I had to turn on "blood vision" at full power, however, I found him. He was currently located on the other side of the building. I wonder if it will be possible to talk to him without cameras? I'll come up with something.
Attempting to use the ability to find other personalities known and interesting to me personally, I failed. Neither Linda, nor Martinez, nor Stevie were here. Unsurprising, honestly, considering the fact of how much time had passed, however, hope still lived.
Oh well, even though I was very interested in what had happened here during my absence, it wasn't for me to uncover secrets right now. My role is simple—to distract attention. And I realized that the time for action had come when Butcher suddenly separated from the main group, very unnoticeably even to me. I hope that at least now he will be able to keep himself in hand and do the job properly.
. . .
"Let's go, fuckers."
William Butcher admitted that he was a man of emotions. And far from the most positive ones. Except at the same time, he could understand when he needed to shove them far away in order to complete the mission. The army taught this well. Those who didn't understand didn't end well.
"Where the fuck was that office..."
Butcher knew how to move stealthily. They could consider him an idiot, but there are no former special forces operators and snipers, and skills aren't that easy to drink away. He tried. And the fact that a certain supe seemingly knew the places where there were no cameras and one could pass unnoticed also helped, which is why he slyly led them on the correct route, "accidentally" looking into the wrong place.
During the squabble with the local teacher, assigned to keep an eye on them, Butcher managed to slip away unnoticed. So far the mission was going like clockwork, except one fact continued to piss him off no matter what.
They were working with a fucking supe.
Yes, just a kid, but that only pissed him off even more. He had hated these bastards for a long time. After what they did to his wife...
Butcher had never, even in the best moments of his life, been a calm person. His bastard father understood this, as did his mentor in the army, and Mallory. He lived with anger inside, holding it back every second. Becca helped him cope with these feelings and even muffled them, which is why only with her could he feel peace.
But as soon as she was gone, his anger transformed. William got a goal for which he would even burn himself alive.
He would deal with every fucking supe. With all of them.
Butcher had long been convinced that everyone, every single one of them was tainted in some way. Drugs, uncontrolled alcoholism, a thirst to take something more fun, or simply a desire to show the "mortals" their place. He especially loved putting such assholes in their place. William knew how to fight and knew how to find the enemy's weaknesses and use them to the fullest. And together with his military experience and not very large moral anchors...
Mallory didn't just save him from the law at the very last moment for no reason. That bastard, who loved "spending time with little heroes" in summer camps, would have set all of Vought's dogs, that is, lawyers, on Butcher a long time ago. If he hadn't died by his hands.
He liked the idea of forming a team to control and catch supes from the very beginning. He had known Grace for decades, when she was only a colonel and he was training under her supervision. He knew her well, she knew him.
But what Butcher liked most about her was not just her firm character—in her eyes was the well-known desire to show the super-cunts their place. Billy saw such eyes every day in the mirror.
He never asked what exactly made her hate the "main light of America." Not his secret, not his business. The main thing is that they had one goal. And he was also satisfied with the other members of his team.
Martin, although a real brute, was the softest and most peaceful of them inside. He had his own problems with supes, but still, he hated Vought itself more as an organization, because of the fight with which his father died. He had a vendetta with Soldier Boy, but the old fucker melted in a nuclear reactor a long, long time ago. Now the target of his revenge is the corporation.
Serge is simply useful. He didn't have problems specifically with the "heroes", but for his team, which he considered family, he was ready for anything. Butcher simply acknowledged his skills as a chemist and just a kid whose head works right.
But now a new element had appeared in their small army.
The greenhorn pissed Butcher off beyond measure. From the first glance, he realized that the kid considered them all worse than shit. Maybe he didn't admit it to himself, but William was very good at reading people and saw that the kid didn't consider them equals simply due to the fact of lacking powers.
And his manner of speaking didn't help matters, in which it was clear even to an idiot—for him, everything happening was a joke and nothing more. A game, entertainment, an opportunity to show that he is a real hero. Butcher didn't care about that. He simply hated the kid to the depths of his soul.
"Well finally, fuck..."
He could have picked the lock on the door even with his eyes closed. Vought liked to hide their dirty laundry in places well-guarded on the outside like Red River, however, the security inside was complete shit. Getting in here from the outside without anyone's help is almost unreal.
But if you succeed, then all that's left is to walk past the security cameras, which were useless here. Vought might seem like some super-secret evil corporation, however, they still try to save money on whatever they can.
Butcher and his team had found out in advance that at this moment there would be no one in the office, as all important figures would be tied up with the filming. So Billy quickly slipped inside, silently closing the door behind him, after which he quickly sneaked over to the desk.
On it stood an already rather old large monitor and a whole pile of papers that one could spend hours sorting through. But Butcher needed only one thing. The one that he and Mallory had been looking for over two years of working together.
"Where, where, where... Oh, there you are, beauty."
Butcher picked up a folder with documents, beginning to read into the text. A maniacal smile blossomed on the former Navy SEAL's face as he realized he had found a real treasure. Quickly photographing the papers, he left the office, after which he headed to the filming locations by the old route, avoiding cameras. Sneaking through was a piece of cake, no one even noticed his absence. Except the kid, of course. Fucking supes.
Soon he will deal with all the fuckers. With every single one. And finally take off this fucking t-shirt.
Read Advanced Chapters on: p@treon/Amiii_
~Every 150 PS = Bonus Chapter!
~Push the Story forward with your [Power Stones]