"Who's this guy?"

  "That's what we're about to find out."

  Jaime woke with a groan and immediately realized his hands and legs were bound. A cloth covered his eyes, and his mouth was gagged.

  "Hmmgn!"

  'Damn it!' Jaime thought, frustrated, his heart racing. He cursed himself for being sloppy and getting caught.

  He heard voices, one hushed, the others calm and steady. Just as Jaime was thinking how he could get out of this, the blindfold was pulled away, and he squinted at the sudden light.

  A few blinks ter, his vision cleared. The Englishman's face was right up in his, inches away, with a nasty grin.

  "Morning, chump." The man pulled back a bit. "Now, I'm only gonna ask you once..." He grabbed a big drill off the side and flipped it on.

  Shnnn! Shnnn!

  "Or I'll shove this up your bum." The man grinned. Jaime looked around. The Frenchman was off to the side, shirtless and smoking, watching him with curious eyes.

  "Where's my friend?" Jaime asked.

  Shhn!

  "I'm the one asking the questions," the drill-wielding man said, pushing the sharp end closer to Jaime's face.

  Jaime swallowed his fear. He'd always known a lucky bullet or capture might get him, and he'd mentally prepared himself it for what he'd done so he wouldn't let them see him sweat.

  "Who are you working for?"

  "You really English? Your accent's weird..." Jaime joked, trying to py it light and stall for time to figure a way out. He got a drill to the thigh for his response.

  Shhh!

  "Argh..." He groaned, gritting his teeth as the drill went almost an inch in before the guy pulled it back.

  "Better start answering right, or the next one's going through bone."

  Jaime grinned, though his face was a little pale. "I'm telling the truth. Our boss—we just call him 'Boss'—we don't know who he is, never even seen his face. He wears a mask, see?" And it was the truth, a harmless truth.

  Nobody'd tried to find out who the boss was. All they knew, the core guys in the organization, was he was powerful and had weird methods they didn't understand. They knew he was a supe, though they didn't know what kind of powers, except he was sturdy as steel.

  His interrogator traded looks with the shirtless Frenchman before turning back to him. "Why were you spying on us?"

  Jaime raised an eyebrow. "On you? We were spying on Popcw."

  Shhn!

  "You think we didn't see you following us to the truck? Looks like you need a bit more love." The Englishman brought the drill closer again, and Jaime gritted his teeth, waiting for the pain, when—

  Vrinnn! Vrinng!

  A phone buzzed on one of the tables, a familiar ring. The Englishman and Frenchman looked at each other before the Englishman went to the table and answered.

  "Lovely day, ain't it, cunt?" Butcher said, getting a ugh in return. A fsh went through his eyes, and he grabbed the drill again, turning it on.

  Shhn shnn!

  "You hear that? If someone don't start talking soon, someone's getting this up their bum." Butcher threatened, then the person on the other end said something that stopped him cold.

  "Is that what you did to Translucent?"

  The room went silent. Frenchie, even though he couldn't what the person on the other side said, felt the change in Butcher and was tensed, because not much can make that to him.

  "...Who the hell are you?" Butcher finally asked after a beat, his voice hard as stone.

  Laughter came back over the phone. "You can call me a friend. And I'm wondering, what are you looking for from A-train?"

  Another bit of info dropped: these guys had been watching them, for a while now, and they hadn't even noticed. Butcher didn't like that one bit.

  "Why are you spying on us?" he snapped.

  "Because I want to bring down Vought, and I just happened to see you dealing with Translucent on the way."

  The answer threw him off. With his years on the job, he had a gut feeling the guy was telling the truth.

  "Well, ain't that just convenient? How do I know you ain't some supe cunt with a peeping power, eh?"

  "Well, you're not wrong, haha."

  Again, Butcher was surprised by the guy's honesty. Hearing him not deny being a supe however set off that old, familiar rage in him.

  "Why don't we cut a deal? Let my guys go, and I'll help you out with some stuff."

  "Why don't you just off yourself and do the world a favor, eh?" Butcher snorted. "I don't need your help, 'specially not from a cunt like you. Now, piss off, and don't call back unless you've got something good to say." He was about to hang up, hating that the other guy seemed to have the initiative when...

  "I can help you take down Homender." The voice on the phone stopped Butcher dead.

  It took a few seconds before Butcher spoke. "There ain't no weapon on Earth that's supposed to be able to hurt him." He was probe, trying to see what the guy had.

  "But that wouldn't stop you, would it? What do you say?"

  Butcher's eyes narrowed, and he let out a heated breath. He shut his eyes and made up his mind.

  "Tsk, stubborn," Chris clicked his tongue as the call ended. He texted the others Jaime's location for rescue.

  He'd found out before the call that A-Train and Popcw were together, which gave him an idea why those guys were watching her pce.

  They were after that blue vial, and if A-Train didn't have it, they went after his girlfriend.

  Since he couldn't make a deal with the guys who took out Translucent, he'd have to find it himself.

  "Killian."

  "Yes, Master Kent."

  "Sweep the city's surveilnce, especially A-Train and Popcw's movements, and find these guys, where they are, what they're doing."

  "Right away, Master Kent."

  Chris left the bathroom, washed up, and going to his tiny cubicle, running into Ashley Barrett on the way

  "Oh, you're here. Come on, I need you tell you something," she said, walking fast, her tablet in her hand.

  Chris followed her to her office.

  "So, you've heard," she said, sitting down and getting straight to it, "The Samaritan Event's coming up."

  Chris nodded, and his boss went on.

  "I want you to handle the PR, both the demographics and the practical stuff. You'll be on the ground, working, watching, reporting to VIPs, keeping an eye on the live feeds and people's reactions online and IRL. You'll be interacting with a ton of people at the event."

  "Thank you ma'am, for the opportunity." Chris said, smiling a little.

  Ashley, even with all the makeup, looked worn out. Still, she had this crazy energy, like she wouldn't mind working herself to death.

  She leaned back in her chair. "How much do you want to climb the dder, I wonder?"

  "Well, I want to get to know the company better, meet people in all the departments, and see how high I can climb," Chris replied, and a fsh went through his boss's eyes.

  "Then work hard and impress me, and you'll get there." Ashley stood up and patted his shoulder, her fingers lingering a sec before Chris got up and left her office.

  Chris shook his head, smiling wryly. Then, down the hall to his left, Vice President Madelyn Stillwell walked up, with Homender and Queen Maeve behind her.

  "Seven minutes ago, Trans-oceanic Flight 37 from Paris to Chicago was hijacked in mid-air."

  Chris lost their conversation as they turned right and were out of sight.

  His phone buzzed, and he checked it.

  [Rescue successful. Jaime's okay, just a leg injury, and so's the other guy.]

  Chris nodded. No doubt the group that took out Translucent had bolted as soon as their call ended and he hinted he had some observation ability.

  He jumped in an elevator. As he waited to get to his floor, he wondered how else he could mess with Vought. He wanted it down so he could make his own, but then, supes were the company's bread and butter, and that blue vial he saw with A-Train felt like the key to everything.

  A company that had all the supes, and only in America... anyone with half a brain knew Vought was behind them, in some form. He was gonna find out how.

  He got to his cubicle greeting his co-workers on the way.

  "Hey, Chris."

  "Hey."

  He sat down and looked out at the blue sky lost in thought when he saw Homender carrying Maeve, fly off into the distance.