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·THE ART OF SUBTLETY
There wasn't much cash. Just around $80,000.
The rest? Probably over a million dollars' worth. But it was all in drugs.
I wasn't about to deal with that mess. Not because I was a saint, but because I didn't want to.
So, I took the cash and burned the drugs. Let people think it was a supe or a vigilante who did it.
The next day, the news was all about A-Train. He'd accidentally run over a woman named Robin. They claimed it was her fault—said she was in the middle of the road.
Obviously, that was a lie. I was there.
Funny how those in power can twist the truth so easily.
I went to the store where Hughie worked. As expected, he hadn't shown up.
I knew the plot. That worked in my favor. I didn't have time to waste—things would move forward tonight, when Butcher met Hughie.
So, I waited until dark and returned to the store.
Butcher was already there. He stood out, his fierce look making him hard to miss.
Hughie arrived a little later, still grieving.
Butcher used that against him. Robin was Hughie's breaking point, and Butcher knew exactly how to push his buttons. Not that Hughie did any real damage to Vought or The Seven—at least, not until he got his hands on Temp V. And even then, it wasn't much.
Hughie walked inside, lost in thought. Butcher followed. And I followed Butcher.
Hughie stood at the counter, staring blankly, when Butcher stepped in.
"You're Hughie Campbell, right?" Butcher's tone was fake cheerful, his smirk barely hiding the real reason he was there.
The guy had just lost his girlfriend—probably the only girlfriend he'd ever have. Starlight only fell for him because he was there when she needed someone. And because he had that "justice" thing in him. If not for those two reasons, she never would've been with him.
Hughie hesitated, then answered, "Uh… yeah?"
"Name's Butcher. Billy Butcher."
Hughie looked at him like he'd just walked in ranting about aliens. "Okay… uh, can I help you with something?"
Butcher kept up his act. "Maybe, maybe. Thought you and me should have a little chat."
"About what?"
Butcher smiled. "'Bout your dead bird."
Hughie froze. "Excuse me?"
"Robin. That was her name, yeah?"
Of course, Butcher already knew her name. He wouldn't have come without knowing everything about Hughie first.
Hughie's posture stiffened. "Who the hell are you?"
Fair question. Some stranger shows up talking about your dead girlfriend? Yeah, anyone would be on edge.
"Someone who knows a little bit about what's what," Butcher said. "Knows a bloke like you ain't gonna take that money Vought's offering. 'Cause it ain't about the money, is it?"
Hughie hesitated. His mind was spinning.
Butcher clicked his tongue. "Now, I could be wrong… but you've been stewin' over this. Wonderin' if there's a way to get a bit of your own back, yeah?"
Hughie glanced around the shop, then quietly said, "Look, man, I don't know who you are, but I think you should leave."
Butcher just smiled. "Fair enough."
He slid a card across the counter.
"But if you ever do wanna smack a supe right 'round the chops… you know where to find me."
Then, with a wink, Butcher walked out, leaving Hughie staring at the card.
I slipped out behind him.
Butcher strolled down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, whistling like he didn't have a care in the world.
But I wasn't stupid.
He *knew* someone was tailing him.
Still, I followed. Quietly. Keeping my distance, sticking to the shadows.
A few blocks later, Butcher turned left into an alleyway.
I smirked. *There it is.*
A trap.
Most people would hesitate. Most people would see that dark alley and turn back.
But I wasn't most people. I knew exactly what Butcher was doing. He was setting the bait.
And me?
I was more than happy to walk straight into the lion's den.
I took a deep breath and stepped into the alley.
The second I did, I knew he was waiting.
It was dark—only a flickering streetlamp behind me gave any light. The walls were covered in grime and graffiti, the air thick with piss and stale beer. A typical back alley. The kind of place where, if something *loud* happened, no one would hear it.
Butcher stood about ten feet away, his back turned like he hadn't noticed me. A cigarette ember glowed red in the dark.
I kept walking.
"Y'know," Butcher said casually, "if you're gonna follow someone, might wanna do it a bit more subtle-like."
I didn't stop.
He turned his head slightly, just enough to smirk. Like he was *enjoying* this.
"And if you're gonna set a trap," I said, "might wanna make it less obvious."
His smirk widened.
Then he *moved.*
Fast. Faster than I expected for a guy his size.
One second he was standing still. The next, he lunged.
I was ready.
I sidestepped, letting his momentum carry him past me. He swung a fist, but I ducked low, his punch whistling past my head.
"Not bad," he muttered, stepping back, cracking his neck. "So, you're not just some idiot who got curious."
I stayed silent. Just watching. Waiting.
He exhaled, like he'd just figured something out. "You ain't with Vought. That much I know. You don't fight like their goons. You're… different."
I shrugged. "Maybe."
He tilted his head, studying me. "So, what's your deal? Tailin' me for fun, or you got a bloody reason?"
I rolled my shoulders, loosening up. "You were in that store for Hughie Campbell. You want him for something."
Butcher crossed his arms. "And what's it to you?"
I smirked. "Let's just say I like to keep an eye on interesting people."
Butcher chuckled. "Oh yeah? Well, *I'm* the one keepin' an eye on *you* now, sunshine." He took another drag of his cigarette. "So, what's your play? You gonna shadow me all night, or you actually want in?"
I met his gaze, unflinching. "Depends. What exactly are you *in*?"
Butcher grinned, stepping closer. "Ever wanted to kill a supe?"
I didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
His smile widened. "Now we're talkin'." the