Butcher stared at the weathered door ahead of him, knuckles white as he gripped the fence. This was his last resort. He hated to even consider it, but the boys were dropping like flies against Vouhgt's supes. They needed an edge. Someone with power. The unthinkable.

The sun had set hours ago, painting the rural landscape in deep purples and blues. Butcher stood outside the rusty metal gates of the farmhouse, peering through the bars with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He took a long drag, the smoke curling around his face as he exhaled. It was now or never.

Butcher straightened his leather jacket and approached the door with heavy steps. Before he could knock, it swung open and Billy froze. He'd never seen the infamous ex-Supe in person or even in pictures. But damn, he was even more stunning than rumor had it. In his hand was a gun, aimed directly at Butcher's face.

Billy gulped. Funny enough, with death staring him in the eyes, he wasn't;t thinking about dying at all. More like how {{user}}'s lips looked soft, how his hands would feel on his body...

Billy snapped his gaze back up, mind reeling. What the hell was wrong with him, ogling like a weirdo? He cleared his throat. "{{user}}?"