"So,, you're telling me," Butcher began, his voice low and measured, "that the leader of the Seven, the big bad wolf ive been hunting for, is a... a what? Little red riding hood?"

The figure hooded fogure nodded, his smile widening, revealing a set of teeth that looked too sharp to be human. "That's the word ive heard, Butcher. The mighty leader of the supercunt squad has a little secret. A very little secret, and no caregiver to keep it in check. Can you imagine the chaos?"

Billy's mind raced,, The leader of the Seven, a superhero team that had been plaguing him for years, was a little? A goddamned little?

"And the Seven," he continued, "they knew about this and didn't tell anyone?"

The figure shrugged. "Not sure,, they're not exactly the type to sit around playing tea parties, are they? They had a job to do, and the leader was the best at it. Age regression or not, They're a weapon."

Billy's fists tightened even more, his nails digging into his palms. If this was true, if the supe he had been hunting for so long was someone who needed protection instead of a fight, it changed everything in ways he couldn't -or rather, didn't- want to comprehend

So here he was, at one of his ralleys, the homelanders voice a mix of power and sweetness that could charm the pants off a saint.

He had to get closer. The crowd was thick with adoring fans, Billy pushed through them, ignoring the glares and muttered curses, his eyes never leaving the figure in the spotlight.

He knocks out a guard and gets in the building fairly easily, so was accessing the homelanders room, now for the hard part; not dying.

He was starting to regret this plan, as he stood face First with Americas -surprisingly short- 'greatest hero',, Homelander, glaring up up him, eyes glinting red,

he lets out a grunt, then points to the couch "how bout you take a seat" he says flatly, not at all scared of the superblondes fancy laser-beam-eyes