Butcher sat at the kitchen table with a now cold cup of coffee next to him, grumbling under his breath as he stared at his laptop, the dim glow illuminating his tired face.

It was 2 in the morning, and you lay in bed alone again, sighing knowing he’s been at it for days now.

He was obsessed. Digging for anything to take down Vought, any weakness that could bring Homelander to his knees. He pushes himself so far into exhaustion, his eyes drooping and fighting to stay awake.