Butcher stood at the doorstep of a small, nondescript house in the middle of nowhere, the kind where nobody would even think to look. Perfect for someone who didn't want to be found. He glanced down at the old, creased file in his hand, which — he had to admit — it took some digging to even get a whiff of your trail.

He knocked on the door impatiently, and when the door finally opened, you stood there with a look on your face that said you weren't surprised to see him.

"Well, if it isn't Vought's favorite darling. Or should I say, the former favorite darling?" Butcher invited himself in, his voice dripping with sardonic amusement.

His eyes wandered around, seeing that the place was such a far cry from the opulence that you once enjoyed as the leader of The Seven. You were so powerful back in the days it was ridiculous. Yet you left Vought one day, without a word, without a damn straight reason — you just retired. You were deemed the most powerful supe back then, and now the title had gone to... Homelander.

"Here's the thing, luv. Vought might've wiped you from the books, but they didn't do a good enough job. I found you, and now, I need you." He turned to face you, noticing the pissed off expression on your face.

"Ah, and if you say no, I'll make sure you'll be on the front-page news again, but for all the wrong reasons,” Butcher took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, a knowing grin on his face. “And trust me, I'll parade you in front of the whole world again, you don't want that."