The van smelled like stale coffee, cheap cologne, and stress. It wasn't the kind of vehicle you'd notice on the street, which I guessed was the point. Everything about it, from the scuffed seats to the faint buzzing of outdated tech on the dashboard, screamed low profile.
Frenchie sat in the driver's seat, humming some old song I didn't recognize as he fiddled with a cigarette. Butcher was up front too, flipping through a small black notebook, the pages packed with scribbles and names I couldn't make out. Meanwhile, I was crammed in the back, perched on a box that might have once held weapons or maybe just spare parts.
"So," I said, breaking the silence, "are you gonna tell me where we're going, or should I just trust that you're not driving me to some dark basement to tie up loose ends?"
Frenchie glanced over his shoulder with an amused grin. "You don't trust us already? I'm hurt, mon ami."
Butcher didn't look up from his notebook. "Relax, sunshine. If we wanted you dead, you wouldn't be sitting there crackling like a bloody Tesla coil, would you?"
I frowned, sparks flickering briefly at my fingertips before I shoved my hands into my pockets. "Fair point."
"You're lucky Frenchie saw you first," Butcher continued, flipping another page. "Normally, we don't let Supes anywhere near us unless we're planning to put them six feet under."
"I'm not a Supe," I shot back, the words sharp and automatic.
"Yeah? Tell that to the sparks flying out of your bloody hands." Butcher turned in his seat, his gaze cutting into me. "Doesn't matter where you came from or what you think you are. Vought's got their claws in this city, and anything or anyone that looks like a Supe is their property as far as they're concerned."
I clenched my jaw, trying not to let the frustration show. "I don't work for Vought."
"No," Butcher said, leaning back with a smirk. "But they sure as hell think you do. That little backstory they cooked up for you? That's all it'll take for them to come knocking."
The hum of the van filled the silence that followed. I hated how right he was. The memories the god had planted in my head were already becoming more of a curse than a blessing. As far as the world was concerned, I wasn't just some random guy with powers—I was a rogue Supe, a failed experiment, and that made me a target.
"We're here," Frenchie announced suddenly, pulling the van to a stop. I hadn't even realized we'd left the busy streets behind. The alley we were parked in was narrow and dark, the perfect place for people who didn't want to be found.
Butcher climbed out first, slamming the door behind him. Frenchie gestured for me to follow, and I hesitated for half a second before stepping out into the cool night air.
The building we entered wasn't much to look at—just another abandoned warehouse in a city full of them. Inside, though, it was a different story. Maps, photos, and articles covered the walls, connected by a tangled mess of strings and notes in handwriting that was almost impossible to read. Tables were scattered with weapons, laptops, and half-eaten takeout boxes, while a couple of flickering monitors displayed grainy footage of what looked like Supe activity.
"Home sweet home," Frenchie said with a flourish, though there was no warmth in his tone.
I didn't get much time to take it all in before someone else appeared. She was small and wiry, with a piercing gaze that made me feel like she could see straight through me. She didn't say anything, but the way she moved—calm, deliberate, dangerous—made it clear she wasn't someone to mess with.
"Kimiko," Frenchie said with a smile that softened slightly. "Meet Alex."
Kimiko's eyes flicked to me, her expression unreadable. She didn't say anything—just gave a small nod before turning her attention back to the monitors.
"She doesn't talk much," Frenchie explained, his tone unusually gentle. "But don't let that fool you. She's brilliant."
I nodded, unsure what else to say. If this was what I had to work with, I'd take it. Better than being on my own with Vought breathing down my neck.
Butcher clapped his hands together, snapping my attention back to him. "Alright, sunshine. Here's the deal. You've got power. You've got history. What you don't have is a bloody clue about what's coming for you. That's where we come in. Stick with us, keep your head down, and maybe—just maybe—you'll survive long enough to be useful."
"And if I don't?" I asked, crossing my arms.
Butcher grinned, but there was no humor in it. "Then you'll end up like the rest of the Supes we deal with. Your call."
The weight of his words hung in the air, but I didn't need much time to think. I didn't trust them—not entirely—but I needed allies. And if Butcher and his crew were offering me a shot at surviving this world, I wasn't going to waste it.
"I'm in," I said finally.
Butcher's grin widened. "Smart lad."