The Boys: Ultimate Multiversal Lifeform
Chapter 132: A Terrifying Sense Of Oppression
Frenchie felt a wave of relief when Kimiko stepped in front of him, arms spread wide to shield them.
Fucking hell. Butcher and Hughie were grinding their back teeth to dust.
Right then, the sound of something heavy hitting the floor pulled everyone’s attention. Under their stares, the piled-up steel shelves started lifting one by one by some invisible force. They hung in mid-air, forming a solid wall of metal.
Then a crack split open right in the center of that steel wall.
Ivan stepped out slowly. The invisible tentacles behind him pushed him forward through the gap.
The moment he appeared, everything around them went dead quiet. All anyone could hear was their own ragged breathing and the occasional clatter of falling merchandise.
"Impossible! This has to be a hallucination! It’s a hallucination!" Kenji Miyazaki was losing it, his voice shaking.
As if to answer him, the steel wall behind Ivan collapsed with a thunderous crash. Ever since he fused with Gluttony’s reinforcement, his raw strength sat around ten tons. Nowhere near Homelander’s level, but for a normal supe like Kenji with no physical boosts, it was an astronomical number. It crushed every last bit of hope and fight left in the kid.
"Time to end this," Ivan said flatly.
In the next second, invisible tentacles punched straight through Kenji’s hands and slammed his whole body into the wall with unstoppable force. The impact knocked him out cold.
Kenji’s head lolled to the side as blood leaked from the wounds in his palms.
"That pose... I swear I’ve seen it somewhere before," Hughie muttered.
"No shit. Everyone’s seen it," Butcher snapped. He smacked Hughie on the shoulder. "Go get my gun."
Ivan landed lightly on his toes and pulled his tentacles back.
[Telekinetic Pull fusion in progress. Current progress: 2%]
"He’s all yours. Don’t forget what I asked for."
"I’d do it even if you didn’t remind me."
The deal they had made had nothing to do with Hughie. Butcher had only been fucking with him about selling him as a lab rat. The guy had always been a venomous prick, but Butcher hadn’t expected the dumbass to actually believe it.
"Tomorrow I want every news outlet in America talking about Compound V. Don’t let me down."
Ivan turned and headed toward the security room. As he walked, his tentacles sliced up the surviving security cameras. Once inside, he pressed his hand on the computer. The whole machine crumbled into useless scraps in seconds.
...
The next day.
Butcher had arranged to meet Mallory out on the water to hand over the package. He borrowed a yacht from a "friend."
"You seriously want me to get on this thing?" Hughie asked, looking uneasy.
"You can stay here if you want. Just don’t come crying to us when some random finds you."
Butcher hopped into the cockpit like it was nothing. He hit the throttle and the yacht slowly pulled away from the dock.
"Fucking asshole."
Hughie grabbed Frenchie’s outstretched hand and stepped onto the yacht’s deck.
Half an hour later Hughie’s stomach was doing backflips. His face went ghost white in seconds.
"You alright?" Mother’s Milk came over, looking concerned.
"I’m fine.. fuc—"
Hughie didn’t even finish before his gut rebelled. He lunged for the railing and puked his guts out into the blue ocean. By the time only sour bile was left, he finally straightened up and sucked in fresh air like a dying man.
Meanwhile in the cockpit, Butcher had already dialed Mallory.
"Is the package secure? Anyone spot him?" Mallory asked on the other end.
"We’re five kilometers off the coast. What do you think?"
Butcher stared out at the sea, actually feeling pretty damn good for once.
He didn’t give a single shit if the CIA tortured Mouse. If Ivan Greevs wasn’t such a mysterious bastard, Butcher would have loved to team up with the Agency, bag that powerful supe, wrap him in concrete, and dump him in some random hole.
Too bad he couldn’t turn on Ivan yet. One Homelander was already a massive pain in the ass. Adding another even more unpredictable guy on top of that? No thanks.
"Don’t forget you’ve got a special talent for fucking everything up," Mallory said. She had no idea how right she was.
"Look, I just want my wife back."
Butcher reminded her.
Mallory said she hadn’t forgotten. As soon as the CIA took the super terrorist off their hands, she’d give him Becca’s location. The rest of the team could reunite with their families too.
Back at CIA headquarters, Mallory picked up an old 70s superhero poster. "By the way, ever hear of a supe called Liberty before?"
Butcher had never heard the name. While they kept talking,
Inside the room holding Mouse, Kimiko was trying to communicate with her brother. His hands were tied and wrapped in bandages, completely blocking his telekinesis.
Using the secret sign language they had made up as kids, she tried to convince him to drop the hatred. They could both leave America and go back to a normal life.
But Kenji, brainwashed deep, kept begging her to untie him. "They will torture me. You have to let me go. I swear I won’t attack anyone or take revenge."
Kimiko was mute, not stupid. She knew her brother was full of shit. She shook her head and left the room.
The moment she stepped out, Frenchie slipped into the cabin with a can of soda and some chips. He wanted Mouse to teach him their sign language so he could talk to Kimiko. Even with Frenchie looking dead serious and sincere, Mouse shut him down flat.
Compared to Butcher, Frenchie was basically a pure love warrior.
"Not happening?" Frenchie asked, then left the cabin looking crushed.
He forgot to take the soda can with him.
Jackpot. Mouse spotted the opportunity instantly. If he could grind a hole through the bandage, he could free one finger. One finger was all he needed to use telekinesis, rip open the can, and use the sharp pieces to cut through the ropes and bandages.
While he worked on it, a police helicopter hovered right above the yacht.
"Is that the CIA?" Hughie asked dumbly, thinking their ride had finally arrived.
"Shit, that’s NYPD!" Mother’s Milk yanked Hughie toward the wheelhouse. "What the hell is going on? How did New York cops find us?"
The answer came blasting from the helicopter’s loudspeaker.
"Vessel below, stop all movement immediately. The boat owner has reported it stolen. You are in illegal possession of private property!"
"Fuck you! Butcher, didn’t you say this yacht was borrowed from a friend?"
Mother’s Milk glared at him.
Butcher just shrugged with zero shame. "He’s my friend. Whether I’m his friend... that’s debatable."
Honestly, Mother’s Milk wanted to strangle the bastard right there.
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