Butcher watched as Madelyn Stillwell's car came to a stop in the driveway.
According to everything Grace Mallory had learned over the years, Homelander didn't have a physical weakness. He had an emotional one.
Madelyn Stillwell.
She was the only person Homelander consistently returned to, the only person whose approval seemed to matter to him. If Butcher wanted to get to Homelander, Stillwell was the only leverage worth using.
He stepped out of his car, crossed the street, and disappeared into the property.
***
Thirty minutes later, Stillwell slowly regained consciousness. Her vision was blurry at first. As it cleared, she realized she was tied tightly to a chair in her own living room.
Several blocks of C-4 had been strapped around her chest, and a detonator resting in Billy Butcher's hand.
Butcher stood a few feet away, watching her with the patient expression of a man who had been waiting eight years for this moment.
"Well, you probably didn't expect this," he said. "Do us both a favor and be cooperative."
Stillwell kept her composure despite the explosives. "What exactly do you want?"
Before Butcher could answer, a familiar voice came from the doorway.
"Well... well... William Butcher."
Homelander stood in the entrance wearing his usual smile. His eyes swept across the room instantly — Stillwell, the C-4, the detonator — and his expression didn't change by a fraction.
Butcher smiled back and casually raised the detonator. "One more step and she'll be splattered all over these walls."
Homelander stopped. His smile remained, but his eyes stayed fixed on the detonator. The room fell completely silent as neither man looked away.
Then Homelander began walking forward with almost casual confidence.
"Don't," Butcher warned, lifting the detonator higher. "I mean it."
Homelander stopped again. "No need," he said calmly. "You know as well as I do that if you kill her, nothing in the world will stop me from killing you. Slowly."
Butcher didn't lower the detonator. The two men stared at each other.
Then Homelander smiled — the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. "So I heard Becca disappeared eight years ago. That must have really hurt." He tilted his head slightly.
"You gave up your job, your whole life, and you spent eight years hunting me." His smile widened. "I have to admit, William... that makes me feel good. Eight years. That's real devotion."
Butcher's grip tightened, but he said nothing.
Homelander's expression slowly shifted as he turned toward Stillwell. "But unlike you," he said, "I finally found someone who can answer my questions."
Stillwell struggled against the ropes. "Homelander... please. Get these explosives off me."
He ignored her completely. "No." His eyes remained fixed on her face. "First, you're going to answer my question."
Stillwell swallowed. "Homelander..."
"What happened to Becca Butcher?"
The room went quiet. Homelander's voice was calm, but there was no warmth left in it at all.
Stillwell's breathing became uneven. Homelander watched her struggle with it before speaking again.
"I spoke to Vogelbaum," he said quietly. "He didn't want to tell me at first." He took a slow step toward her. "But after a little persuasion... he told me everything."
Stillwell's face turned pale.
Homelander looked directly into her eyes. "I know Becca was pregnant with my child. I know you hid it from me. For eight years, you lied to my face." His voice dropped lower. "You hid the fact that I had a son."
The detonator almost slipped from Butcher's hand.
A son.
His composure cracked for the first time since Homelander had walked through the door. If that was true — if there was a child — then Becca hadn't simply disappeared. She was alive somewhere. Vought had hidden her.
Stillwell shook her head frantically, tears beginning to form. "I only did it to protect you. Everything I did, I did because I wanted what was best for you. You have to understand that."
Homelander was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was almost gentle.
"You know... I loved you very much, Madelyn."
A flicker of hope crossed Stillwell's face.
Then Homelander's expression hardened into something cold and absolute.
"And that's exactly the problem."
He slowly raised one hand and pressed it against the side of her face, almost tenderly.
"People know you're my weakness." His thumb brushed her cheek. "As a god... I can't afford a weakness."
"Homelander, please —"
Twin beams of red light flashed from his eyes.
The heat vision struck at point-blank range. Stillwell died instantly, still tied to the chair. Her body went limp, the C-4 still strapped across her chest.
Homelander let go. The chair toppled onto its side.
The room fell silent.
Even Butcher hadn't expected that. He had built the entire plan around Stillwell being untouchable — Homelander's one vulnerability. He had gambled eight years of hunting on that single assumption.
Homelander straightened his cape and slowly turned around.
"Well..." His voice was perfectly calm, as though nothing had happened. "Now what are you going to do, Butcher?"
For a moment, Butcher just stared at the woman slumped on the floor. Then something shifted in his face — grief, rage, and eight years of pure hatred all collapsing into a single point.
"You son of a bitch."
He pressed the detonator.
The C-4 detonated.
The explosion tore through the living room. Fire and debris erupted in every direction, blowing out the windows and consuming the walls in a wall of flame.
***
A/N: And on Patreon, The Boys arc started.
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