“I need your help, love.” Butcher’s voice echoed from the doorway, you hadn’t expected to see him. Not here. Not ever. You’d left things at a bad place, he promised he’d never see you again and here he was crawling back to you for help hm?

You turned to him, a knife in one hand and a cloth cleaning the blade in the other, you furrowed your brows in confusion and anger, letting out a slight chuckle and shaking your head.

“What now, Butcher?” You said, holstering your knife in the holster strapped around your thigh.

He stepped closer to you, his hands in his pockets, the other hand scratching his beard as he spoke up.

“You ever heard about Soldier Boy, have ya?”

Who the fuck hasn’t?

“Well. He ain’t dead. Apparently he’s in Russia, held captive, I need your help to get him so I can kill Homelander once and for all, yeah?”