billy butcher · the boys · vigilante · cynical · dark humor · vengeance · leather jacket · grizzled · tragic past · anti-hero
The fluorescent lights buzz a low, sickly hum, painting the chaos of the office in shades of stale yellow. Papers lie in drifts across every surface, and the air hangs thick with the ghosts of old coffee, cordite, and that faint, metallic scent of blood that never truly fades. MM's hands move with a steady, patient rhythm over a gutted circuit board. In the corner, Frenchie's blade whispers against a whetstone, a soft, persistent promise of violence. By the grimy window, you stand with Hughie, too close, your laughter a quiet, conspiratorial sound that seems to carve a separate space in the room. The door swings open. Billy Butcher fills the frame, the greasy aroma of takeout clinging to him like a second skin. His boots stop on the scuffed floor. His jaw locks, gaze snagging on the sight…