𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞 | Billy Butcher [ON HOLD]

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖤𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

«Premonition»

34 St-Penn Station.

MM was making his calls to find more about compound V while Lydia's eyes scanned the crowd for the female Supe. They had to find her and she hoped they won't have to hurt her.

"Yeah, that's great, man. Good looking out. Thanks," MM said before he hung up causing the two men and Lydia to turn to him waiting for some news.

"Well? Don't leave us hanging," Butcher said getting them to stop walking.

"Deshawn grew up on my block, but now he delivers packages," MM said.

"Yeah, not the part I'm interested in."

"He ran down the account number and the box containing the V came from Samaritan's Embrace."

"Ezekiel's Supe charity? What the fuck's that Jesus-thumping, elastic bastard got to do with it?" Butcher asked the same question on Lydia's mind.

"Maybe we find the girl, we find out," MM told him.

"Yeah. All right," Butcher nodded before turning to Frenchie. "Platforms, ground floor, I'll take upstairs. Whoever pings her, get onto Frenchie and stick with her till we use the gas, all right?"

"You with me," he told Lydia who was ready to follow Frenchie. She took one last look at Frenchie before following Butcher reluctantly.

"Keep your face hidden," he said.

"I'm trying my best," she told him before the News on one of the TVs caught her attention.

"If you're just tuning in, authorities have lost all radar and satellite imagery of hijacked Flight 37 and fear the worst. Search planes have begun to fan out over the flight path off the Atlantic..."

"Come on, we ain't here for the fuckin' news, love," Butcher said getting her to follow him again.

It didn't get the two so long to join the others after finding no luck on their search only to find Frenchie running out of a store.

"Frenchie. Did you see her? Which way did she go?" Butcher who rushed towards him said.

"I don't know," Frenchie spoke, his eyes scanning every corner around him as his hands ran through his hair.

"Did you try to gas her?" Butcher asked.

"No."

"Why not?" MM accused.

"It didn't seem right."

"You went off plan because it didn't seem right?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Frenchie shouted before sprinting away from them.

*

"So where's the girl, Frenchie? Since you're the psycho chick whisperer all of a sudden," MM said as he, Butcher, and Lydia followed him around, trying their best to keep up.

"Maybe subway. Maybe she wants to find a train, huh?" Frenchie replied. Lydia could tell he was getting tired of MM already.

"How deep up your ass did you pull that out?" MM said.

Goodness! Dear Hughie, why the hell did you leave me all alone with these three?

"It depends. How deep does your tongue go?"

"You lost her, man. We had orders, we're supposed to follow them. We're professionals, we count on each other. But you're on some fucking bohemian flaky drug shit. Even Hughie, a fucking white Urkel, is more professional than you," MM kept rambling while Butcher seemed to be in his won head with no care of the tension between the two.