Two days later, Mother's Milk, Frenchie, and Kimiko returned from Russia.
As they stepped off the private plane, they looked at Butcher, who had come to pick them up, and were a little surprised.
"What happened to your face?"
The professional smirk on Butcher's face vanished instantly. He shot a glare at the talkative Frenchman, then turned and got straight to the point.
"Is the package secure?"
"Of course. He's been sleeping like a baby."
Faced with Mother's Milk's somewhat strange expression, Butcher didn't respond. He glanced at their cargo, then turned and motioned for them to follow.
"Never mind. Let's get in the car."
After Butcher briefly explained everything that had happened over the past few days to the three members of the Russian team, the atmosphere inside the car turned heavy.
After a long silence, Frenchie finally managed to speak:
"So, we've found a superpowered individual with multiple abilities—one that Vought imprisoned for a year to study and still couldn't kill?"
"You could say that."
Receiving confirmation, the three exchanged glances, silently agreeing to get more details from Hughie later.
Butcher, focused on the road, didn't notice their silent exchange. Remembering Vought's recent actions, he added:
"By the way, before Vought raided our base, it was because Mr. Hope was taken by us. We've found a new place to operate."
"Vought values him that much?"
"Of course. After all, Vought poured all that money into our 'Mr. Hope' just to keep him from escaping. And after last time, Stan Edgar's dogs have been sniffing around everywhere, trying to find us."
Hearing this news—which couldn't get much worse—Mother's Milk fell silent for a moment. Although they were affiliated with the Bureau of Transhuman Affairs, Director Neumann was in bed with Vought from start to finish.
In other words, they were back to working in the shadows, waiting for the right moment.
"So what do we do now? Let you bring this guy back?"
"Don't worry. Our 'Mr. Hope' said that after today, the world is going to become chaos for Vought."
As he finished speaking, the car pulled up in front of an old apartment building. Checking that the coast was clear, Butcher waved for them to unload the cargo and head down to the basement.
When they returned to the basement, Hughie was watching TV on a worn-out sofa. Seeing the three return, he stood up and warmly greeted them.
"Damn, you're finally back. I swear, I never want to split up again. It's too nerve-wracking."
"Same here, man. We almost didn't make it back."
As the four exchanged greetings, Butcher secured Soldier Boy in the freezer unit, then looked around for Locke. He noticed that Locke—who had barely even gone to the bathroom—was no longer in the basement.
"Hughie, where's Locke?"
"Him? He just said he had something to take care of."
"…?"
————————————————————————————————————————————————
At a store less than five hundred meters from the new base, a Vought bounty hunter, Dogkiller, appeared discreetly at the entrance.
A dog in human skin, possessing a canine's hyper-sensitive sense of smell, hearing, and taste, he sniffed the air and headed toward the store.
He smelled his quarry.
As he entered casually, he opened a freezer door and pulled out two bottles of Homelander-approved beer. His gaze involuntarily fell on a white-haired man talking to the cashier.
"Huh? You've got to be kidding, right? Ezekiel was really gay? He's a man of God!"
"How many Vought superheroes are actually good people? This is Vought we're talking about. Compound V is for babies. For them, faith is just another business."
Meeting the cashier's skeptical look, Locke pointed at the TV and said:
"If you don't believe me, I'll give you a big tip if you win. If you lose, you don't owe me anything."
"Alright, what are you betting on?"
"Just bet on today's hearing. Who do you think Vought will throw under the bus?"
"Huh? How am I supposed to bet on that?"
"I'm betting on one person."
"Who?"
"Stan Edgar."
Hearing this, the bounty hunter nearby nearly laughed out loud but caught himself. He grabbed his beer and headed to the counter.
While waiting to check out, Dogkiller turned his head, pretending to accidentally make eye contact with Locke. He smiled politely—just a friendly stranger acknowledging another in passing, courteous and distant.
At the same time, Congresswoman Neumann appeared on the television screen and began to speak.
"Good afternoon. Thank you all for being here. I am Congresswoman Victoria Neumann, Director of the Federal Bureau of Transhuman Affairs."
As the hearing officially began, Locke and the cashier's attention were drawn to the TV. Dogkiller quickly gathered his things, preparing to leave and call for backup.
Black Noir's escape video from two days ago had spread across the internet and become a hot topic.
But shortly after Dogkiller left, Locke placed Hughie's wallet on the counter, told the cashier to step out and make a call, and then disappeared from the store.
"For the past year, our bureau has adhered to the principle of cooperating with Vought International—namely, that even the most powerful among us are not above the law. That includes the most influential people in the company."
Watching Neumann speak eloquently on the stage, Stan in the audience couldn't help but remove his glasses and press his fingers against his throbbing brow.
It wasn't that he was dissatisfied with Neumann's speech. The past few days had simply drained him physically and mentally.
After the Hope project went up in smoke, he not only had to deal with his board duties and the Department of Defense's inquiries, but Homelander had also been anything but cooperative.
But the most critical issue was that 0165 was still at large. Even though the raid had confirmed that he was with the Boys, they couldn't catch him. And as long as he was free, Stan couldn't sleep soundly.
What he couldn't imagine was that tonight, he might finally get some rest.
Not because the problem was solved, but because it was no longer his problem.
"Homelander bravely stepped forward and presented evidence of crimes committed within the company by Stan Edgar, the CEO of Vought International."
Stan: "…?"
For a moment, Stan's mind raced. Why had his adopted daughter turned on him at such a critical moment?
Was it because a few days ago, she had nearly killed her friend Hughie, causing a huge rift between them?
Or was it because he had been suppressing her ambitions for the sake of Vought?
Or was it both?
Countless media cameras and broadcast lenses suddenly swung in his direction, flashing in unison. The blinding waves of light crashed over him one after another.
But at that moment, the weariness that had weighed on Stan's face for days was replaced by something unexpected: relief.
Because he knew.
He had lost.
And he could afford to lose.
More importantly, whoever had set this trap for him—whoever wanted his chair—would have to face the same unavoidable problem.
1.
When Locke returned to the store with a leash in hand, Stan was still the main event on television. The cashier looked at him with an almost worshipful expression and asked:
"How did you know?"
Locke smiled and said nothing. He took out all the cash from Hughie's wallet and left it as a tip for the cashier.
"Trust me. By the way, do you have more of this leash? Like, gift box size?"
"Yeah, yeah, what size do you need?"
Locke looked at the dog leash, then looked up with a bright smile:
"The bigger, the better. I'm putting together a big gift. Celebrating a friend's happy retirement."