The Boys: I'm the Origin of Compound V

Chapter 13: The Secrets We Bleed

The tension in the safehouse was palpable as Butcher laid out the plan.

"So, here's the deal," he said, slapping a grainy photo onto the table. It showed a striking woman with dark curls and piercing eyes. "This is Popclaw. Supe, minor league. She's A-Train's bird and likely knows more about what he's been up to than Vought would like."

Hughie squinted at the photo. "And what's the plan? We just... ask her to spill her secrets?"

Butcher smirked. "Not quite. Popclaw's a liability to A-Train—she'll crack under pressure. We get her talking."

Frenchie tapped a finger on the table. "And what do we do when A-Train finds out we've been sniffing around his girlfriend?"

"Then we're already long gone," Butcher replied with a shrug. "Simple."

Adam leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "What if she doesn't talk? What if Vought's got her too scared to open her mouth?"

Butcher's grin widened. "That's why you're coming with us, mate. Your little vanishing act might just tip the scales."

The apartment complex was surprisingly run-down for someone in Popclaw's position. Adam followed Frenchie and Butcher up the dimly lit stairs, the air thick with the smell of stale smoke and sweat.

"You sure she's here?" Adam whispered.

"Yeah," Frenchie replied. "Popclaw's been laying low ever since A-Train's little 'incident' last week. She won't stray far."

They reached her door, and Butcher motioned for them to wait. Adam faded into invisibility, the air shimmering faintly as he disappeared from sight.

"Bloody freaky," Butcher muttered under his breath.

"Freaky but effective," Frenchie quipped, knocking on the door.

The muffled sound of movement came from inside before the door cracked open. Popclaw peered out, her eyes wary.

"What do you want?" she asked, her tone defensive.

"We just want to talk," Butcher said smoothly. "About A-Train."

Her expression darkened, and she started to close the door, but Frenchie shoved his foot in the gap. "Please, Popclaw. This is important."

Inside, Adam slipped through the doorway unnoticed, positioning himself near the living room. Popclaw reluctantly let Butcher and Frenchie in, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall.

Popclaw's resistance was formidable at first, her answers clipped and guarded. But Butcher's persistence wore her down, and after a few veiled threats about exposing her "extracurricular activities," she cracked.

"I don't know anything, alright?" she snapped, pacing the room. "I don't know what A-Train's doing, and I don't want to know. I just..." She trailed off, her voice trembling. "I just want to be left alone."

Butcher raised an eyebrow. "You expect us to believe that? Come on, love. You're holding out on us."

Popclaw glared at him but didn't respond.

Meanwhile, Adam's gaze landed on a small, locked case under the coffee table. Focusing, he reached for it, his invisible hands brushing against the cool metal. It clicked open quietly, revealing a collection of vials filled with a glowing blue liquid.

His blood ran cold. The sight was all too familiar.

"No," Adam whispered, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "Not this."

"What've you got there?" Butcher asked, turning toward him. Adam reappeared, holding one of the vials aloft.

Popclaw's face went pale. "That's... that's nothing. Just something A-Train uses to... to boost his performance."

Frenchie grabbed the vial from Adam, holding it up to the light. "What is this, mon ami?"

Adam stared at it, his hands shaking. "It's my blood. Or what's left of it. They made this out of me."

The room fell silent as the weight of Adam's words sank in.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Butcher demanded.

Adam exhaled sharply, his voice thick with anger. "This. This is Compound V. It's what makes the supes. Vought took it from me—pumped it out of me in their labs and turned it into this."

Popclaw slumped onto the couch, her face buried in her hands. "I didn't know," she muttered. "A-Train said it was just a booster. I didn't know..."

Butcher's eyes narrowed. "So you're telling me this is the secret sauce? The thing that's been making supes all this time?"

Adam nodded grimly. "Yeah. And now you know why I hate them."

Back at the safehouse, the vial of Compound V sat in the center of the table, its glow casting eerie reflections on the team's faces.

"So this is it," Hughie said, his voice trembling. "This is what makes them."

"And what ruined everything else," Adam added bitterly.

Frenchie leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. "If this is what makes the supes, then this... this is their weakness, non? If we control this, we control them."

"Exactly," Butcher said, his voice cold. "We've got the bloody key to their empire right here. Time to use it."

Adam sat apart from the group, his thoughts racing. He could feel the system stirring, its prompts nudging him toward a decision.

"Not now," Adam muttered under his breath.

"What's that?" Butcher asked, turning to him.

"Nothing," Adam said quickly. "Just thinking."

Butcher narrowed his eyes but let it slide. "Alright, lads. This changes everything. Vought's been playing god for years, and now we've got the evidence to prove it. Time to take the bastards down."

The team nodded in agreement, their resolve hardening. Adam remained quiet, the weight of the vial's glow heavy on his mind. He knew its power—and its cost—all too well.