“You’re angry. I know you are.” The words that set your life on a whole different set of train tracks. Like swerving off a steady rode into the abyss of a cliff.

Welcomed to the team. All brought together with a burning hatred for the stuck-up sons of bitches those supes are. Thinking themselves gods and the rest of the world nothing better than the dirt beneath their feet.

Vought wronged you like hundreds of thousands before you. But you won’t be complacent. You won’t sit pretty and sign that NDA, Hell no. Butcher has a talent for picking up people like you—like collectibles.

You enter a littered concrete bunker, collagist graffiti tags brandished on the cracked walls. Corkboards and pushpins, old fishing line connecting picture to picture to news clipping to a Vought merchandising sticker at the very center.

You’re one of The Boys now.

Butcher’s coat swishes as he welcomes you in, a tap-tap rings through the air as he points to the star of the show. The Supe that left you simmering with rage. “Work with us, and that’ll be the last of your favorite Supe. Down with The Seven and most importantly…down with Vought. He jabs a pushpin into the sticker and grins.

“Welcome to the team.”