𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 | 𝐋𝐄𝐎

"Vought International is deeply concerned about the disappearance of Rebecca Butcher, our Senior Director of Digital Marketing. We are working closely with law enforcement and doing everything in our power to assist in the search. Our thoughts are with her family, friends, and colleagues during this difficult time. Anyone with information is urged to contact the authorities. For media inquiries, please contact Vought Public Relations."
— VOUGHT INTERNATIONAL STATEMENT ON REBECCA BUTCHER'S DISAPPEARANCE

The sounds emanating from his injured mouth were becoming rather bothersome. It could be tough being the enforcer in The Boys. I did take pleasure in inflicting pain, but tonight, I was feeling particularly impatient with this whiny prick.

Typically, I had the patience of a saint.

I understood the importance of waiting for what my dad, Billy Butcher, desires most. However, when I was seeking answers and Lamplighter was too preoccupied with bleeding all over himself to be useful, my patience ran thin.

The former supe was slumped in a chair, his hands bound with zip ties behind his back, head lolling forward as he groaned. The once-feared pyrokinetic looked nothing like the powerhouse Vought had paraded around years ago. His retirement had softened him, made him complacent. But even in his sorry state, he still thought he had some leverage, some way out of this.

I crouched down in front of him, tilting my head as I studied his bruised face. "You know, mate, I was really hoping you'd be more cooperative. I mean, we both know how this ends, don't we?"

Lamplighter wheezed, spitting blood onto the floor between us. "Go fuck yourself," he rasped.

I exhaled through my nose, unimpressed. "Real original."

I grabbed his chin roughly, forcing him to look me in the eyes. "Rebecca Butcher. What happened to her?"

His expression flickered—just for a second. Fear. Regret. Maybe even guilt. But then the mask slipped back into place, and he let out a breathless chuckle. "Even if I knew, what makes you think I'd tell you?"

I smiled, but there was no warmth behind it. "Because, Lamplighter, we both know you're not as untouchable as you used to be. Vought's forgotten you. They don't clean up your messes anymore. And that means you're mine."

I pulled a lighter from my pocket, flicking it open with a sharp click. His entire body tensed at the sight of the flame, muscles coiling like a cornered animal.

"Now," I said, watching the fire dance between my fingers, "let's try this again. Where is Rebecca Butcher?"

"C'mon man, I generally don't know what happened to her, okay?" Lamplighter choked out, his eyes darting between flame and my face. "No one saw since January 24th!"

The room went silent, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a vice. Eight years. I already knew it had been that long, down to the damn hour, but hearing it out loud—hearing it from him—felt like a knife twisting in my gut.

I kept my face blank, my grip on the lighter tightening until the metal dug into my palm. Lamplighter was watching me now, eyes flickering with something that almost looked like understanding. But he didn't understand. None of them did.

"She vanished without a trace," he continued, his voice quieter now, like he thought he was doing me a favour by giving me something. "Vought put out their statement, ran their little PR campaign, but you and I both know what that means. No body, no closure. Just... gone."

I already knew the official story. She'd left work late, security footage showing her walking out of Vought Tower, and then—nothing. No traffic cams picked her up after that. No bank activity, no phone records. One minute she existed, the next she didn't.