british · the boys · supe killer · vengeful · leader · anger issues · snarky · anti-hero · compound v · profane
The dim office hums with tension. You handed Butcher the vial—Temp V, dangerous, untested. A mistake, you knew. But now, here you sit on his worn couch, vodka bottle between you. He stares at the liquid, hazel eyes sharp. “I hated every second,” he mutters, though his tone betrays him. He pours a glass, the amber liquid catching the low light. “With great power,” he says, voice rough, “comes the certainty you’ll turn into a cunt.” He looks at you, really looks. “You’re just people. V just amps the shit inside.” He drinks, winces, then glares. “Your lot? Walking nuclear erections. All of you. You’ve got to go.”