The next day,
Under Billy Butcher’s very friendly and totally not manipulative at all guidance, Hughie did exactly what he was told. A few calls later, Vought arranged it nice and clean—A-Train would meet him in Vought Tower and give a "direct apology."
PR at its finest.
Mark heard about it and actually stopped for a second.
Then gave Hughie one full minute of silence.
Not out of respect.
More like... acknowledgment.
"Yeah," he muttered after a beat. "That’s it. That’s the end of your normal life."
He rubbed his face, already annoyed thinking about where this went.
Because once Butcher got his hooks in, that was it. You didn’t just go back to your routine job and pretend nothing happened. You got dragged further in, one bad decision at a time, until you didn’t even recognize what you were doing anymore.
And Hughie?
Hughie wasn’t built for this.
"Also," Mark added under his breath, "guy’s kind of a scumbag."
Not at the start. Not really.
But he’d get there.
Using Starlight, lying to her face, pulling her into things she had no business being in, putting her directly in front of Homelander’s line of sight like that wouldn’t end horribly.
If not for plot protection, she’d be dead. Simple as that.
Homelander didn’t tolerate secrets. Didn’t tolerate people going behind his back. Didn’t tolerate anything that looked like betrayal. People got erased for less.
The only reason Starlight walked through any of that alive was because the story needed her to.
Otherwise?
"Yeah," Mark said, pushing off the wall. "She’d have been gone the moment he started asking questions."
So yeah, he didn’t have much goodwill for that scumbag. He just hoped Annie didn’t get dragged into it and got to live the life she actually wanted. He’d already handled one problem on that front—one guy temporarily out—so at least that part wouldn’t happen.
In all this mess of supes, Annie counted as normal. Good morals, actually trying to be a hero, which in this world practically made her an outlier.
Next day, same setup.
They came to Vought.
Butcher dropped Hughie near the tower and explained how to plant the bug, quick and rough, skipping details. Hughie stood there confused, asking how he was supposed to even do that.
Butcher waved it off.
"You’ll figure it out."
Then shoved him out of the car.
Hughie stumbled, then walked toward the tower.
Mark watched Hughie disappear into the crowd, then leaned forward slightly from the backseat, eyes on Butcher.
"You know you’re kind of..." he started.
Butcher didn’t even look at him. "A right bastard?" he said, starting the car. "Yeah, I’ve heard that one."
Mark stared at him.
Butcher glanced at him for half a second, then back to the road.
"Kid’ll be fine," he added, tone like he didn’t care either way. "Bit of pressure never hurt anyone."
He pulled the car out into traffic.
"Besides," he went on, voice dry, "you don’t learn by havin’ your hand held, do you?"
Butcher flicked him a look, brief and sharp, then back to the road.
"Funny thing, though," he said, voice easy. "You’re a strange one yourself, ain’t ya? Been playin’ along this whole time, no questions, no fuss. Most people would’ve legged it by now."
Mark leaned back, unimpressed.
"Yeah, no thanks," he said. "I can see you’re trouble. And do you think any normal person would walk up and ask about it? They’d just ignore you and keep moving."
Butcher huffed, something between a laugh and a breath.
"Mm," he said. "Normal people don’t end up in cars with me, do they?"
Mark didn’t answer.
Because the reason was simple, even if he didn’t say it out loud—he wasn’t strong enough yet. Not for what was coming, not for someone like Homelander.
And until that changed, working with someone like Butcher wasn’t optional, especially when the man knew his identity and could expose him at any moment.
Butcher glanced at him again, longer this time.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Thought so."
"But what’s your motive anyway, eh?" Butcher said, glancing over. "Why pick on The Seven? You one o’ them supes they turned away? Didn’t make the cut, so now you’re lookin’ for a bit o’ payback?"
Mark didn’t even look at him.
"None of your fucking business," he said, flat. "We’re not friends or partners. This is just mutual cooperation."
Butcher let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly.
"Mutual cooperation," he repeated. "Yeah... we’ll call it that, shall we?"
"And unlike that dunce, I can see you’re just using all this for your own benefit," Mark said, tone flat. "So if it comes down to it, I won’t even bother saving you."
Butcher didn’t look offended. If anything, he seemed amused.
"Good," he said, almost approving. "Wouldn’t expect you to."
Inside Vought Tower, Hughie followed the script as best as he could. A-Train gave him the apology—public tone, controlled wording—but standing there, hearing it, just dragged everything back. Robin. The pavement. The moment it all went wrong.
He kept it together.
Said what he was supposed to say. Nodded when expected. Played the part.
And while all that was happening, he managed it.
The bug went in.
But it wasn’t perfect.
Someone saw.
Translucent.
*****
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