Butterflies Volume II

Chapter 42

Sameer slept quietly handcuffed to a pipe. They had patched up his leg, wrapped it up per Violet's request. More Violet's request she voiced to Billy for him to relay over, as she refused to talk to Kessler unless she had to. They had locked him up in an abandoned warehouse Kessler had possession of, and the lack of heating had Violet permanently wrapping her arms around herself. She couldn't get warm, not even with her layers of coat and jumpers. It seemed the world had decided how her body would react, a warning to what they were doing wrong.

Her phone kept buzzing, but she kept ignoring it. She couldn't look at anyone's messages, not trusting herself not to spill and let them all know that they were making the worst mistake they had ever made. She should have let the boys come and stop them, but Sameer's look of fear had transfixed her, trapped her. He was solidifying, cementing her in the mold of what she was becoming. She couldn't hide from it any longer.

"Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey, motherfucker," Kessler taunted, Billy crouching down to pat Sameer's face.

"Now listen up son," Billy said as Sameer scrambled to sit up, "we've been awfully patient with you... But it's time to stop fucking about and get the job done. Mary's little lamb is starting to stink."

"I could just bash your fucking head in, jog your memory," Kessler butted in, Violet shaking her head.

She had barely said a word, but had made her opinions known in sighs and quips. And every time Kessler's head jerked to her, expecting her to speak and growing frustrated when she didn't. But Sameer looked up at her also, pleading, fearing her the most despite Kessler's graphic descriptions.

"Or, alternatively..." Billy sat back, "you just give us a list of what you need to extract the virus, and V will get it in ten minutes for ya."

"You cut off my fucking leg, you chain me here... For what?" Sameer questioned, gasping as Billy leaned back in.

"Listen, mate. I'm the only thing standing in between you and a murderball game at the Y."

"I can't. Vicky, Zoe... I can't."

Billy grabbed his bandaged leg and squeezed, Sameer screaming. Violet jumped and squeezed her eyes shut, counting until he stopped. But Billy didn't, he held on. Remember what Sameer did, remember what he participated in. Cursing Zoe, innocent animals. His screaming couldn't make up for what he participated in, what he was helping Vought do.

"Could send you back to them in a fucking bucket," Kessler said, "if you don't do whatever the fuck we say."

Billy only let him go as a cough came through him. Violet shot forward, crouching down and putting a hand on his shoulder. It erupted through him roughly, a ticking clock lodged in his throat.

"You okay?" She asked, Kessler watching on.

His stomach almost came up with him, and Billy gripped her arm in response. Anchoring himself, reminding himself that she was there. And that was who she was, she was good, and he had dragged her into his true rage forgetting who she was. Regret begged on his heels, trying to stop him, but they were already on the finishing line. They were so close he couldn't stop until he finally got Violet what she wanted. They had to keep pushing.

"Yeah, yeah," he thanked her as they both stood up, "you got a week. And make it strong enough to top Homelander."

"A week?" Sameer begged, "this could take months!"

"A week," Billy firmed, turning round to Kessler, "don't let him fall asleep this time."

Kessler's smile burned into her vision. It stayed permanently over her eyes like an overplayed dvd on a TV screen, visible even when it wasn't on. The crooked bleach of the dimples on his cheeks resembled a real honest man. But there was nothing honest about him, and despite her fist around his lungs he walked around as though she had her collar on. Like she was a dog, exactly who he said needed to be controlled, and he smugly brushed past her pushing.