The Boys: I'm the Origin of Compound V

Chapter 18: Shifting Loyalties

The morning broke over the city, gray and dreary, matching the mood in the safehouse. Adam found himself nursing a cup of black coffee, his mind heavy with the events of the previous night. Frenchie was tinkering with something at the table, a screwdriver in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Hughie sat in the corner, scrolling through files on his laptop. Butcher, ever the strategist, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, staring at Adam like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"Right," Butcher finally said, breaking the silence. "Let's talk about last night."

Adam didn't look up from his coffee. "What's there to talk about? We went in, things went sideways, and I handled it."

"Handled it?" Butcher repeated, his voice sharp. "You drank some mystery juice and turned into a bloody Christmas light. That's not handling it. That's gambling with all our lives."

Adam's jaw tightened, but he kept his tone even. "If I hadn't done it, Lamplighter would've roasted us alive. You're welcome, by the way."

"Don't give me that righteous crap," Butcher snapped. "You're playing with fire, mate, and sooner or later, you're gonna get burned. And when you do, you'll take us all down with you."

"Enough!" Frenchie interjected, slamming his screwdriver onto the table. "The boy saved us, Butcher. You might not like his methods, but you can't deny that."

Butcher shot Frenchie a glare but didn't argue. Instead, he turned back to Adam. "Fine. You've got your shiny new powers. But if you step out of line, even once, I won't hesitate to put you down. Got it?"

Adam met his gaze, unflinching. "Crystal clear."

The tension lingered as the team turned their attention back to the stolen files. Frenchie spread the documents across the table, his brow furrowed as he pieced together Vought's latest scheme.

"They're ramping up production of the unstable Compound V," Frenchie said, gesturing to a series of blueprints. "Looks like they're testing it on new recruits."

Hughie frowned. "Why would they use something so risky? I mean, isn't regular Compound V already enough?"

"Not for what they're planning," Adam said, leaning over the table. He pointed to a section of the documents marked "Project Ascension." "This isn't about creating more supes. It's about creating better ones. Faster, stronger, more powerful. They're building an army."

Frenchie nodded grimly. "And if this variant works, they won't need as much Compound V to do it. They could mass-produce supes overnight."

"Which means more people to crush under their boots," Butcher growled.

Hughie looked uneasy. "So what's the plan? We destroy the lab?"

"Not yet," Butcher said. "First, we need more intel. If we hit them now, they'll just rebuild somewhere else. We need to find out who's behind this and take them out at the source."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "And how do we do that?"

Butcher smirked. "We pay someone a visit."

The visit in question took the team to a dingy motel on the outskirts of the city. The air was thick with the smell of mildew and cigarettes, and the faint sound of a TV buzzed from one of the rooms.

Butcher rapped on the door with the tip of his boot, his expression impatient. A moment later, the door creaked open to reveal a wiry man with wild hair and a paranoid gleam in his eyes.

"Ah, Butcher," the man said, his voice a mixture of relief and suspicion. "You've got some nerve showing up here."

"Good to see you too, Mesmer," Butcher replied dryly, pushing past him into the room.

Adam followed, his gaze flicking around the cluttered space. Mesmer was a supe, a washed-up has-been with the ability to read minds through touch. Butcher had mentioned him before, usually with a tone of disdain.

"What do you want?" Mesmer asked, closing the door and crossing his arms.

"Information," Butcher said. "We know Vought's working on something big. We want to know who's pulling the strings."

Mesmer snorted. "And you think I'd know that? I'm not exactly on their Christmas card list."

"Maybe not," Adam said, stepping forward. "But you've got connections. People who talk when they shouldn't. You can dig into their heads, find out what they know."

Mesmer's gaze shifted to Adam, his eyes narrowing. "Who's the new guy?"

"None of your business," Butcher said. "What is your business is helping us. Or do I need to remind you what happens if you don't?"

Mesmer's face paled slightly, and he held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll see what I can find. But it's gonna take time."

"Good," Butcher said, his tone cold. "Because if you don't deliver, I'll make sure Vought's the least of your problems."

Back at the safehouse, Adam sat in the corner, his thoughts racing. The encounter with Mesmer had left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated working with people like him—self-serving, morally bankrupt, and utterly unreliable.

"Mesmer's a scumbag," Adam said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Hughie agreed. "But he's a useful scumbag."

"For now," Butcher added. "The moment he stops being useful, we cut him loose."

Frenchie glanced at Adam, his expression unreadable. "And what about you, mon ami? Are you useful?"

Adam met his gaze, the faint glow of his energy still flickering in his veins. "Guess we'll find out."

As the room fell silent again, the weight of their mission settled over them. Vought was growing stronger, and their chances of stopping it seemed slimmer with each passing day. But Adam wasn't about to back down—not when he was finally starting to find his place in this chaotic, broken world.