The Boys: Ultimate Multiversal Lifeform

At the same time, a few dozen kilometers from Ivan’s villa, right in the middle of New York City, Butcher and his crew were burning every contact they had trying to track down the girl they’d let loose.

Finding her was the only way to figure out what sick game Homelander was playing.

It didn’t take long. One of Butcher’s cop buddies spilled that a nail salon owner named Meriz had just been slaughtered. Body was fucked beyond recognition, meat torn to shit.

The Boys hauled ass to the salon.

Butcher was about to pull his usual expired fed badge trick on the cops outside when he spotted A-Train standing by the bathroom door. He didn’t say a word, just jerked his head at Frenchie and the others to move.

"Pretty fucking clear the girl did it," Butcher said once they were back by the car.

"We gotta find her before that speedy cunt does."

Frenchie had already pieced it together from the train ticket he’d found in Kimiko’s room. Meriz was obviously the snakehead who’d smuggled her into the States. Kimiko was desperate to get home, so there was only one place she’d go: Grand Central.

And Frenchie was right on the money.

Inside the station he heard it, that same weird little melody that had been playing in Kimiko’s room. He followed the sound into a tech gadget store and found her crouched behind the counter.

They’d come prepared. A can of high-concentration halothane sat ready in Frenchie’s jacket. One good whiff and she’d drop like a sack of bricks.

But he didn’t want to use it.

He started talking instead. Told her how he’d been taken from his mother as a kid, how he’d tried to run from his old man a hundred times and always got dragged back. "So I know what it feels like to just want to go home," he said, eyes getting wet.

"Look, I know your secret. You’re not a bad person. You’re just scared shitless." Frenchie reached out slowly with his right hand. "Let me help you."

Then the music in the store cut off.

Kimiko snapped.

She exploded out from behind the counter, flipped a whole display table, and bolted straight into the crowded station.

Frenchie sprinted after her, shoving through bodies, eyes darting everywhere.

She was gone.

Butcher’s crew caught up just in time to hear Frenchie admit he hadn’t used the halothane. MM looked ready to pop a vein.

Back in the Mallory job, Frenchie had pulled the exact same soft-hearted bullshit and let Lamp Lighter walk. Mallory’s grandson got burned alive because of it. The whole clusterfuck got so bad the Bureau fired everyone involved, including Butcher and Frenchie, and slapped a hard "no investigating supes" order on the books.

"You pulled that same brain-dead move again?" MM snarled, laying into him with that natural rapper flow. "Swear to God, cussing you out is a waste of my fucking spit. Even that pasty-ass nerd Hughie is more professional than you."

Hughie just stood there blinking. "The hell did I do?"

"Fuck this. I’m out," Frenchie spat.

Things were heating up fast when Butcher finally stepped in and shut both of them up with his ’Passionate Spice Girls Pep Talk.’

Luckily they spotted the girl on the platform a minute later.

Too late. A-Train had already found her first. He had Kimiko by the arm, trying to drag her away while she fought like a wild animal.

Then A-Train grabbed her head and started slamming it into the wall.

Frenchie’s eyes went wide. He spun toward the crowd and bellowed, "Holy shit, look! It’s A-Train! The real A-Train, right there!"

Dozens of passengers whipped out their phones and surged forward.

A-Train had no choice. He let go of Kimiko and plastered on that fake superstar smile, waving at the fans.

Kimiko bolted.

When Butcher’s team caught up to her again, Frenchie tried the soft approach one more time. She bared her teeth and launched herself at him like a rabid dog.

Butcher didn’t hesitate. He chucked the halothane grenade. Both idiots dropped like sacks of wet cement.

Meanwhile...

A-Train already knew someone had talked. The only other person besides him and Homelander who knew about that dungeon was Black Noir’s little claw freak.

...

The next morning, Ivan Greevs stepped into Vought Tower and immediately felt the vibe was off. Something ugly was in the air.

"Greevs, the VP wants to see you," Ashley said, face like a storm cloud as she walked up. She clearly already knew the plane had gone down. Homelander and Queen Maeve had fucked it up.

All her prep work, wasted.

"Got it."

Ivan didn’t need her to spell it out.

He followed Ashley straight to Madeline’s office.

The second they walked in, Madeline was rubbing her temples hard. Even she hadn’t expected Homelander to drop the ball this badly.

"Sit wherever."

"So," she said, cutting right to it. "Any bright ideas on how we handle this?"

Ivan stayed quiet. Ashley jumped in first.

"We need to bury this fast. In the public’s eyes Homelander is fucking invincible. He can’t just fail to save a plane. So we spin it: he only arrived after the crash. Too late to do anything."

Madeline nodded, clearly liking what she heard.

Ashley shot Ivan a smug little look.

Madeline turned to him. "What about you?"

"If I were Homelander," Ivan said calmly, "I’d go on camera and say this tragedy was completely preventable. If North American Air Defense had involved supes earlier, I could’ve saved every single person before it went to hell. Instead, we were just a few minutes too late. It breaks my heart. But if they’d approved Vought’s military integration plan and let supes into the defense system, none of this would’ve happened... and it won’t happen again."

Madeline’s face lit up with satisfaction, even a spark of surprise.

"Best way to dodge blame," Ivan added, lacing his fingers together over his chest with a sly smile, "is to dump it on someone else and let the public rip them apart."

___

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Read 12 Advance Chapters—P@t- Captain69