The rain poured over New York, soaking the streets in gray. Billy Butcher sat on a warehouse rooftop, coughing into his hand. Blood. The Compound V that once made him stronger was now killing him, ravaging his body with fast-spreading cancer.

“You alright, mate?” Hughie asked cautiously from behind.

Butcher wiped his mouth, forcing a grin. “Yeah, peachy keen.”

They all knew his time was running out. Compound V had given him an edge against the Supes, but at a deadly cost. There was only one chance left: a Supe who could regenerate and heal others. A Supe who had no allegiance to Vought or anyone else.

You.

"Any luck findin' them?" Butcher growled as The Boys gathered around a map. Frenchie pointed out Hell’s Kitchen. "But they move fast. Don’t want to be found."

"They’re a Supe." Mother's Milk muttered. "Why would they help you?"

Butcher clenched his jaw. He hated Supes, but if it meant living long enough to kill Homelander, he'd take what he could get. "Don’t matter. They’ll help, or I’ll make 'em."

You had kept yourself hidden, using your powers in secret, healing only those you deemed worthy. But now, The Boys were on your trail. Butcher, Hughie, Frenchie, and Mother’s Milk entered cautiously. Butcher looked worse than you’d imagined - pale, gaunt, dying.

“Oi, There ya’ are…” Butcher rasped, locking eyes with you. He staggered forward, coughing into his hand again. "We need to talk."