In a basement two blocks away from 298 Marilyn Avenue.
Butcher, Hughie, Frenchie, and Mother’s Milk watched Popclaw hold the blue vial of drugs in her hand.
Butcher kept chanting like a man possessed, “Shoot it in, baby.
I need you to shoot that fucking drug right into your body.”
Toward this man nicknamed Butcher, who looked remarkably like a serial killer, Hughie felt deep fear in his heart.
Being with Butcher made him constantly worry that the man would fly into a rage and peel off his skull.
In essence, Butcher and Homelander were the exact same kind of person: neither ever treated the people around them as human beings.
Homelander viewed himself as a god, while Butcher viewed everyone around him as dogs.
Butcher kept muttering continuously, a strain of fanatic insanity that made Hughie and the other two feel thoroughly uncomfortable.
Yet as if struck by a sudden flash of realization, Popclaw on the screen set down the blue vial, pulled out her phone, and began tapping rapidly on the touchscreen.
Butcher exploded instantly, nearly punching a hole through the monitor.
He glared at Hughie and the others, roaring, “What is she doing?
What the hell is she doing?!”
Hughie took a few frightened steps back, raising his hands defensively in front of his chest—a useless gesture as flimsy as a girl trying to defend her virtue by saying “just the tip.”
Stammering, he said, “From her movements…
she should be texting someone, sir!”
“Who is she texting?
What did she send?
Hughie, you’re a computer genius, decode what she typed!”
Hearing Butcher’s demand, Hughie stared in absolute disbelief.
*In your eyes, are hackers basically God?*
Even MM, who had the best relationship with Butcher, couldn’t watch this anymore.
“Butcher, stop losing your fucking mind.”
Butcher let out a cold, sinister laugh, his expression chilling to the bone.
“MM, are you telling me how to do my job?”
Seeing a conflict on the verge of erupting, Hughie looked at Popclaw on the screen and quickly tried to divert their attention.
“It’s A-Train!
She’s definitely texting A-Train!”
Butcher snapped back to the screen immediately.
“How do you know she’s texting A-Train?”
Hughie explained, “Look at Popclaw’s smile—it’s that shy, expectant kind of smile.
She has to be texting her boyfriend.
Most likely, she’s telling A-Train to come over so they can celebrate his victory together.”
*Oi!* Butcher’s smile began to turn dark and twisted.
At that moment, Popclaw had no idea that every single move she made was being watched by the four men.
She simply held her phone, looking at the text message displayed on the screen.
[ what are you doing?
]
Recipient: Big Asshole
…
“The victory wine is poured for you, don’t go inflating too soon.
Mind your steps on every run, head back to Africa to see your elders under the sun.”
The Deep spat out rap lyrics while waddling toward A-Train like a zombie with a broken leg.
Starlight and Maeve covered their faces in utter speechlessness; even walking next to this guy felt humiliating.
The veins on A-Train’s forehead throbbed violently.
“Hey!
Bro!
Nice job!”
The Deep stepped forward and gave A-Train a massive hug.
While hugging him, A-Train whispered right into his ear, “Deep, if I ever hear you rap again, I swear to God I will kill you.”
“Come on!
I didn’t even mind spitting bars, and you’re complaining about me rapping?” The Deep grinned broadly and hit A-Train with a secret Black handshake, laughing, “Either way, congrats on the big win!
Made me a nice bit of cash, too.
How about you throw me on your back, we head straight to LA, grab a dozen starlets, and throw a pool party…”
*Ding-dong.*
The Deep pulled out his phone and opened the text.
Mid-sentence, he began to stammer, “Bro…”
A-Train leaned over to glance at the screen.
Seeing the text message, a mischievous grin spread across his face.
He gave The Deep a light punch on the chest and laughed, “I get it, bro.
Go keep your date, don’t worry about me.
I’m planning to spend tonight with my brother and his family, so I’m not going out.”
“You sure you want me to keep the date?” The Deep double-checked.
A-Train hadn’t expected The Deep to be so loyal—so willing to skip out on a guaranteed lay just to celebrate his victory.
A wave of genuine warmth washed through his chest.
Black brotherhood wasn’t about what a man said, but what he did.
*Deep, you’ve earned my respect.*
As a brother, how could he bear to make things difficult for his boy?
He nodded firmly.
“Of course, bro.
Don’t let me ruin your mood for some action.”
Well then!
It would be rude to refuse such generosity.
The Deep reluctantly accepted.
Just as he turned around to leave, A-Train pulled him back in for one last dap.
Driving his Chevrolet Camaro, The Deep arrived at 298 Marilyn Avenue.
He knocked on the door of Apartment 302.
The moment it opened, the girl wearing dark black eyeshadow yanked him inside.
She jumped onto him without a second thought.
Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist.
The Deep cupped her with one hand while supporting her soft waist with the other to keep her from falling.
Popclaw didn’t say a single word.
She simply took The Deep’s face in both hands, tilted his head slightly upward, and leaned in to kiss him deeply.
Two blocks away, an “Oi!” echoed through the room.
Butcher motioned for everyone to look at the screen.
Hughie’s entire expression broke down, replaced by overwhelming shock.
“Isn’t that…
The Deep?!”
Looking at the two kissing passionately on the monitor, Butcher’s smile turned increasingly grotesque and unhinged.
It only reinforced his deep-seated stereotype: Supes were a bunch of fucking animals.
Patting Hughie’s frail shoulder, he said, “Hughie.
Popclaw did have a date, but it doesn’t look like it was with her boyfriend, A-Train.”
MM and Frenchie watched with intense interest.
Hughie knit his brows, completely unable to comprehend it.
“How could The Deep and Popclaw end up together?”
Butcher’s smile was blindingly bright.
“I don’t need to know how they hooked up, I just need to know that they *did* hook up, and we happen to have it on tape.
Popclaw, Deep…
you wouldn’t want A-Train finding out about your little affair, now would you?”
*Hehehe!*
Butcher’s laugh made Hughie feel physically sick.
As Hughie watched Popclaw getting handsy with The Deep on screen, he immediately thought of Starlight.
Hughie didn’t know the exact nature of Starlight and The Deep’s relationship, but judging by how intimate The Deep had been with her today, Starlight was definitely being coerced by power, forced to act as his girlfriend against her will.
No!
He couldn’t let The Deep cheat on Starlight.
At the very least, until he rescued Starlight, The Deep had to faithfully belong to Starlight alone!
That was his bottom line.
“I’m going to stop him,” Hughie blurted out suddenly.
He turned to dash out of the basement toward Popclaw’s apartment.
He had barely taken a step when Butcher flattened him to the floor with a single punch.
Reeking of pure thug energy, Butcher gave a dark grin.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?
They haven’t even started banging yet.
If you go over now, how the hell do we get our evidence?”
Knocked flat on his back, the confusion instantly cleared from Hughie’s eyes.
“I…
I…”
In the basement.
The four men listened to the conversation between The Deep and Popclaw, each wearing a knowing smile.
So the two of them had hooked up way before this.
Watching The Deep carry Popclaw into the bedroom, Butcher nudged Hughie.
“Hughie, switch to the bedroom feed.”
Hughie put on a miserable face.
“I only installed one in the living room.
There’s no camera in the bedroom.”
*You stupid cunt!*
“Portably, the microphone’s audio pickup on this one is really strong,” Hughie added quickly.
“And they didn’t close the bedroom door.
If you guys don’t make a sound, I can try to capture their audio.”
Butcher immediately signaled MM and Frenchie to shut their mouths.
If possible, it was best if they didn’t even breathe.