The bell over the shop door rang as they stepped back inside.
Hughie was already moving out from behind the counter, grabbing his jacket, keys in hand, not even looking at the screens anymore, when Butcher stepped in front of him and stopped him without much effort.
"My shift’s over," he said quickly, heading for the exit. "If you want to buy something, just ask the other guy."
Butcher moved without hurry and cut him off before he reached the door.
"Oi, Hughie, innit?" he said, easy as anything.
Hughie froze for a second, confused. "Yeah...?"
Butcher reached into his coat, flashing something just long enough to look official.
"Federal Bureau of Investigation," he said. "Name’s Butcher."
Hughie blinked, thrown. "FBI?"
"Yeah," Butcher went on like it was nothing. "This here’s my partner—"
He paused, glancing sideways at Mark.
"—go on then, mate. Introduce yourself."
Hughie’s eyes shifted between them, uncertainty creeping in fast.
They didn’t stay inside.
Butcher steered Hughie out with a light hand on his shoulder, not rough, just enough to keep him moving. Mark followed a step behind, quiet, watching how it played.
Outside, the street noise filled in around them. Cars, people, normal life continuing like nothing had happened.
Hughie slowed once they were a few steps away from the shop. "Okay, seriously—FBI? What is this about?"
Butcher walked beside him like they’d known each other for years. "Bit of an incident earlier, yeah? Involvin’ a certain speedster."
Hughie’s jaw tightened instantly. "I already talked to Vought’s lawyers."
"Course you did," Butcher said. "An’ how’d that go for you?"
Hughie didn’t answer.
Butcher glanced at him. "They sort you out proper? Or just hand you a cheque an’ tell you to be grateful?"
Hughie let out a breath through his nose. "They said it was an accident."
"Mm." Butcher nodded like he expected that. "Funny how it’s always an accident when it’s one of them."
They kept walking.
"But here’s the thing," Butcher went on, tone still casual. "Accident or not, it’s evidence. And evidence matters."
Hughie frowned, looking over. "Evidence of what?"
"That they ain’t what everyone thinks they are."
Butcher said. "That they’re reckless. Dangerous. And someone oughta be keepin’ an eye on ’em."
Hughie shook his head slightly. "And that’s the FBI’s job?"
Butcher smiled faintly. "Somethin’ like that."
He slowed a bit, turning slightly so Hughie had to face him.
"There’s a place," he said. "Vought Tower. You’ve heard of it."
"Yeah, obviously."
"Right. We need eyes inside. Nothin’ complicated. Just a little device, plug it in, let it do its thing."
Hughie stopped walking. "You want me to bug Vought Tower?"
Butcher didn’t deny it.
"Simple job," he said. "In and out."
Hughie stared at him. "That’s illegal."
Butcher gave a small shrug. "So is runnin’ through someone at Mach 3 and callin’ it a bad day at the office."
That landed.
Hughie looked away for a second, his jaw tight again.
Butcher stepped a little closer, voice dropping just enough.
"You saw it happen," he said. "You know what they are. Question is—what’re you gonna do about it?"
Hughie didn’t answer straight away. His hands curled slightly at his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with them.
"They told me to sign," he said after a moment. "Take the money. Not talk about it."
"Course they did," Butcher said. "Standard play. Keep it quiet, keep it clean, keep you small."
Hughie shook his head. "I’m not—this isn’t me. I don’t do... this."
Butcher let out a quiet breath through his nose.
"Yeah," he said. "Didn’t think you did."
He reached into his coat, pulling out a small device, turning it over once in his hand before holding it out.
"Doesn’t mean you can’t start."
Hughie stared at it, not taking it.
Mark stayed a step back, watching both of them, saying nothing.
"Vought Tower," Butcher went on. "You get in, you plant this, you walk out. That’s it. No grand speeches, no heroics."
Hughie’s eyes flicked between the device and Butcher. "And then what?"
"Then we see what falls out," Butcher said. "And maybe, for once, they don’t get to pretend nothin’ happened."
Hughie swallowed, still not moving.
Butcher tilted his head slightly. "Or you take the cheque, sign your name, and let it be another ’accident.’ Your call, mate."
Hughie didn’t take the device.
Not yet.
He just stood there, staring at it like it weighed more than it should, like the decision attached to it was heavier than anything he’d ever had to carry.
Butcher didn’t push. Not now. He just held it there, patient, like he already knew how this ended.
Mark stayed where he was, watching Hughie instead of Butcher.
The hesitation, the anger, the way it kept circling back to the same place—he’d seen that before. People didn’t change in a moment like this. They just stopped pretending they wouldn’t.
Hughie’s hand moved.
Slow at first, then steadier.
He took it.
Butcher’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile.
"Good lad," he said.
Hughie didn’t look at him.
Mark exhaled quietly, already knowing this wasn’t going to stay small.
*****
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