Chapter 11: The Butcher's Blade: A Test of Loyalty and a New Target

Chapter 11: The Butcher's Blade: A Test of Loyalty and a New Target

System Message: Team dynamics are at a critical low. Your continued integration requires a perceived alignment of goals. Subtlety in your power acquisition will be key. Remember, a tool is more effective when its user believes it is theirs.

"Oh, thanks for the strategic advice, System. So I'm a 'tool' now? Peachy. Just when I thought my self-esteem couldn't sink any lower, you're here to remind me I'm basically a sentient weapon for a man who hates my guts."

The air in the Boys' latest safe house, a grimy, forgotten apartment above a perpetually noisy Gabès marketplace, was thick with unspoken tension. The stench of stale coffee and fear clung to the walls. No one looked directly at me. Butcher was cleaning his rifle, the rhythmic click of the bolt an ominous counterpoint to the silence. MM meticulously polished a set of binoculars, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the window, seemingly lost in a world where supes didn't spontaneously generate in his friend. Frenchie watched me with a calculating, almost scientific curiosity, like I was a particularly intriguing, yet highly venomous, specimen. Kimiko, as always, was a silent sentinel, her eyes occasionally flicking towards me, unreadable.

I felt their fear. My Empathic Resonance (Lvl 1), subtle but undeniably present, was a constant low hum of their apprehension, their distrust. It was a suffocating sensation, a heavy blanket of their unspoken thoughts. It made my skin crawl, a constant reminder of the chasm growing between us.

"Alright, listen up, you lot," Butcher finally grunted, snapping his rifle back together. He didn't look at me when he spoke. "Sage Grove was a clusterfuck, but we got some intel. Vought's got a new toy, a 'Black Ops' supe they're using to clean up their messes. Code name: 'Specter'."

He tossed a grainy photo onto the battered table. It showed a figure, blurry and indistinct, but radiating an unsettling aura. "Enhanced stealth, thermal cloaking, minor energy manipulation. High-value asset. Mallory wants him neutralized. I want him gone."

My heart hammered. Enhanced Stealth. Thermal Cloaking. Minor Energy Manipulation. The words echoed in my mind, a siren song of power. This wasn't some broken, forgotten hero. This was a trained Vought killer. A genuine threat. And a perfect target.

[System Message: Target identified: Specter. Powers: Enhanced Stealth, Thermal Cloaking, Minor Energy Manipulation. Assessment: High utility, potentially synergistic with existing powers. Acquisition: Highly recommended. Remember, the strongest survive.]

"Oh, I'm well aware, System. Thanks for the Captain Obvious statement. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm just trying to figure out how to commit murder without upsetting the delicate sensibilities of my perpetually stressed companions."

"So, what's the plan, Butcher?" I asked, trying to sound casual, my voice betraying only a hint of the predatory excitement churning within me. "Another 'infiltration and incinerate' mission?"

Butcher finally looked at me, his eyes cold and unwavering. "No. Not this one. This one's personal. And it's a test, Hughie. For you."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "You're a supe now, aren't you? A proper one, with fancy new tricks. You proved that at Sage Grove. So, you're gonna use those powers. You're going to get close to Specter. You're gonna neutralize him. And you're gonna do it my way."

"Your way?" I repeated, a knot forming in my stomach.

"My way means no more bloody surprises. No more 'accidental' power reveals. You move when I tell you to move. You hit when I tell you to hit. And you don't go getting any big ideas about keeping these pricks alive for your little… 'experiments'." His gaze bore into me, knowing, accusing. "You got that, Hughie? You're my bloody blade now. Point you, and you strike."

The implication was clear: he knew I was killing supes for power. He knew. And he was trying to control me, to harness my burgeoning monstrosity for his own ends. The thought simultaneously infuriated and terrified me. But the System, ever the pragmatist, was already calculating. Accept. Compliance is temporary. Power is permanent.

"Understood, Butcher," I said, my voice flat. "Your blade. Your target."

MM finally spoke, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger. "Butcher, this isn't right. He's not… he's not a dog on a leash."

"He's a supe, MM," Butcher snapped, turning his gaze on him. "And like all supes, he needs to be controlled. Or put down. Your choice, mate. You want him running around, absorbing everything that moves, or do you want him pointed at Vought?"

MM fell silent, defeated. Frenchie just shook his head, a look of profound sadness on his face. Kimiko remained impassive.

The intel led us to a sleek, minimalist Vought safe house in the wealthier suburbs of Tunis, a stark contrast to our own squalid accommodations. Specter was supposedly using it as a temporary base of operations. Our mission: infiltrate, disable their comms, extract data, and "neutralize" Specter.

My Metabolic Acceleration (Lvl 4) made the infiltration a breeze. I moved with a fluidity I'd never possessed, a quiet blur through the shadows. My Carbon Skin (Lvl 5) made me feel practically invulnerable to the minor environmental hazards. Limited Phasing (Lvl 1) allowed me to slip through locked doors and bypass laser grids with ease. I was a ghost in the machine, far more effective than I'd ever been as a civilian.

Butcher, MM, Frenchie, and Kimiko handled their parts with their usual grim efficiency. I, however, had a dual objective. Find Specter. And kill him.

The Empathic Resonance (Lvl 1) was a constant irritant. I felt the low thrum of fear from the Vought guards, the focused determination of my teammates. And then, a new signature: a cold, detached aura, like a void in the emotional landscape. Specter.

He was good. Very good. My Empathic Resonance picked up his movements even when my eyes couldn't. He moved through the shadows with a disturbing grace, a ripple in the air. His thermal cloaking was impressive; even with my enhanced senses, he was almost impossible to pinpoint without the emotional signature.

I cornered him in a server room, amidst the humming racks of data. He shimmered into view, a dark silhouette, holding a silenced pistol. His eyes, though shadowed, radiated a chilling emptiness.

"You," he rasped, his voice a low, distorted whisper. "You're the new one. The… anomaly."

"Anomaly? That's putting it mildly," I muttered, my heart hammering. This wasn't like killing a broken, old man or a drunken nobody. This was a professional. A genuine threat.

He fired. My Metabolic Acceleration (Lvl 4) kicked in, and I blurred out of the way. The bullet whizzed past my ear, striking a server with a shower of sparks. He was fast. Dangerously fast.

I tried to use Sound Manipulation (Lvl 1), a high-frequency burst, but he seemed almost immune to it, barely flinching. His Enhanced Stealth shimmered, making him almost impossible to target. He lunged, a knife appearing in his hand, aiming for my throat.

My Carbon Skin (Lvl 5) took the blow. The knife scraped against my neck, a dull grating sensation, but didn't penetrate. He recoiled, surprise flickering in his cold eyes.

"What the—" he began.

I wouldn't give him a chance to recover. This was a direct confrontation, a brutal dance of powers. I focused my Caustic Secretion (Lvl 1), a thin, almost invisible mist of corrosive acid secreting from my hands. I moved, a burst of Metabolic Acceleration (Lvl 4), slamming into him, pinning him against a server rack.

His thermal cloaking flickered wildly as the acid began to burn through his suit, his skin. He gasped, a low, pained groan escaping him. He tried to phase away, but my Limited Phasing (Lvl 1), while not as advanced as his, gave me an intuitive understanding of his power. I instinctively pushed against his phasing with my own, disrupting his efforts, keeping him solid.

"This is for… for everyone you hurt!" I snarled, a wave of righteous anger, fueled by my own internal turmoil and the residue of Empathic Resonance, washing over me. I pressed harder, the acid sizzling.

He thrashed, his struggles weakening. His eyes locked onto mine, a flicker of understanding, then despair, before they glazed over.

[System Message: Kill Confirmed. Target: Specter. Initiating "Supe Power Absorption" protocol. Choose wisely.]

The mental menu flashed.

SPECTER'S POWERS:

Enhanced Stealth (Lvl 1)

Thermal Cloaking (Lvl 1)

Minor Energy Manipulation (Lvl 1)

"Enhanced Stealth. Thermal Cloaking. Yes. All of it." I would selected all three if i could,i choose Enhanced Stealth (Lvl 1) , the familiar surge of new power flowing into me. A cold, detached sensation, like the absence of presence, settled in my mind.

Butcher burst into the room, his eyes scanning the chaos, then landing on Specter's lifeless body, pinned against the server rack by my acid-coated hand. He looked at me, a dangerous mix of approval and fear in his eyes.

"Good work, Hughie," he said, his voice low. "Clean. Efficient. Just like I taught you."

He hadn't seen the kill. He hadn't seen the acid. He hadn't seen my brutal efficiency. The act of hiding my methods, of maintaining the illusion of "his blade," filled me with a chilling satisfaction. I was a monster, but I was a clever monster.

The Vought data was secured, the comms disabled. As we made our escape, I subtly opened my duffel bag and downed a vial of Compound V. The meter surged.

BLOOD METER PROGRESS: 400/800

"Oh, thanks for the validation, System," I thought, the bitterness a cold ache in my chest. "Just another step closer to becoming a full-blown supervillain. My parents would be so proud."