Chapter 11

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Chapter 11

"Homelander has done it again! Stopping the Villian known as th-"

His fingers moved without a moment of hesitation.

"I am here at the sight where Homelander stopped a-"

He typed a hundred words in a matter of seconds, creating a campaign.

"It was crazy man! One moment there was fire everywhere and then bam! Homela-"

He came up with a new idea to promot-

"You done combining your face to your laptop yet, Hughie?" A feminine voice asked out of nowhere.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" He screamed out in surprise, jumping a little in his seat, the laptop almost flying off the table. His racing heart thundered in his ears as he tried to recover from the shock.

"Mrs. Butcher!" he snapped, irritated and embarrassed, turning towards her. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

Becca tried to give him an unimpressed look but the smile on her face made it impossible.

"Wow, you are one easy-to-scare little baby, aren't you?" she teased, a small smile tugging at her lips as she leaned against the doorframe.

Hughie let out an exasperated sigh, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. He turned his attention back to the numerous news feeds playing on his phone. His eyebrows knitted together in concentration as he scrolled through them, paying no mind to the chuckling woman next to him.

"Anything interesting?" Becca asked, peering over Hughie's shoulder, her voice cutting through the various overlapping news feeds.

"Not really," Hughie answered without looking up, his fingers scrolling through the various news threads on his phone. "Just the usual stuff about Homelander being a hero and saving everyone, the usual."

Becca shook her head in exasperation at him, the young man truly took his job seriously. Well, it's not like she could blame him considering the fact Homelander himself hired him to be her assistant in managing all of his media. His relentless work ethic and dedication showed just how much he wanted to prove his sincerity and gratitude towards Homelander for giving him this opportunity.

"Like it or not, working yourself down to the bone isn't going to do much good for you or anyone, Hughie," Becca stated, crossing her arms like a disappointed mom.

Hughie merely grunted in response; his eyes still focused on his phone screen.

"Look, I know you want to show John that he made the right choice in picking you, but Hughie… this isn't it." She gently grabbed his phone and pulled it away from him.

Hughie paused then, his eyes finally shifting away from his phone to meet Becca's. There was a softness in her gaze that he hadn't seen before, a kind of maternal warmth that made him feel strangely comforted.

"I...I just don't want to let him down, Mrs. Butcher," Hughie admitted, his voice coming out as more of a whisper. He looked away, suddenly feeling exposed under her gaze. "I owe him too much…"

"Firstly, it's Becca and secondly it's not about letting him down," she said gently as she took a step closer. "It's about doing what you can while still taking care of yourself, you and I both know he would be scolding you if he knew about you overworking yourself."

Hughie didn't reply. His silence hung in the air between them, punctuated only by the dim hum of technology around them.

"Look," she began again after a long pause, "You were given this role because you're smart, capable, and human. You're not like most people here, and that's exactly what John wanted."

Hughie felt a surge of emotions welling up inside him: confusion, doubt - but most prominently - hope.

"Really?" He asked skeptically.

"Really," she replied with a nod. A smile played on her lips - one of those rare genuine ones. "Now take a break."

Hughie let out a huff, his eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. A break was a foreign concept to him these days. But for the first time in a long time, he found himself considering it. Becca's words had given him something to think about.

"I suppose...I could indulge in a bit of downtime," Hughie eventually conceded, covering his uncertainty with false bravado.

Becca's smile widened.

"That's more like it," she said approvingly, clapping him on the back. "But just remember Hughie. No sneaking off to do more work behind my back."

Hughie mustered up a small smile in response to her wisecracks.

"I promise," he replied honestly.

With that, Becca gave his phone back and excused herself from the room, leaving Hughie alone with his thoughts. He stared at the screens around him, still buzzing with news about Homelander's latest feat. It felt strange to think that he wouldn't be monitoring them closely for the rest of the day.

Instead, Hughie stood up and found himself wandering throughout the facility aimlessly until he found himself in front of the break room.

The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a room filled with the hum of chatter and the aroma of coffee. A few people paused their conversations to nod hello as Hughie entered, then went back to their discussions. He found an empty table in a quiet corner and sank down onto a cushioned chair.

His muscles gratefully relaxed into the plush comfort of the seat, reminding him of how long he'd spent hunched over his work desk. He sat there for a moment, just soaking in the room's peaceful ambiance - the soft jazz music piped in through hidden speakers, the subtle clink of cutlery against ceramic dishes, the low murmur of friendly banter.

Then, he noticed a set of vending machines tucked away at one end of the room. Several people were gathered around them, while others were busy preparing food in the small kitchen area adjacent. His stomach gave out a low growl, making him realize he had skipped lunch out of sheer dedication to his job.

With a sigh, he got up and made his way toward the vending machines. He scanned over the neatly stacked rows of candy, chips, canned drinks, and other snacks before settling on some neatly wrapped sandwiches.

As he waited for his selection to drop from its slot, he felt someone tap his shoulder. Startled at the unexpected contact, he turned around to see who it was. As he turned, he was met with a bearded, smug face of Billy Butcher.

"Working hard or hardly working eh, Hughie?"

Hughie jumped, mumbling a sheepish, "Just taking a break, Sir."

Billy Butcher's booming laugh echoed through the room.

"A break, is it? Well, I never thought I'd see the day." He clapped Hughie on the back, the impact of which sent a jolt through his thinly built frame. "And don't call me sir, makes me feel like a right cunt."

The sandwich finally dropped from its slot and Hughie picked it up. With a sense of relief washing over him, he turned to Butcher.

"It was Becca's idea actually. She said I need to take better care of myself."

"Good on her! It's about bloody time you did," he said gruffly but there was a softness in his voice that wasn't usually present.

Butcher leaned against the vending machine, crossing his arms over his chest. He was a formidable figure, the type of man you wouldn't think twice about following into battle. Yet here he was, discussing self-care in a break room.

"Becca's got a way of seeing things clearly," he added, his eyes softening at the mention of her name.

Chuckling, he patted Hughie on the back before pushing away from the vending machine and retrieving his own sandwich and a can of soda from the machine, he ambled over to Hughie's table, motioning for the younger man to follow.

As they settled into the soft seats, a moment of comfortable silence fell between them. The room was full of people coming in and out of the break room, but no one came near their table.

"Y'know," Butcher began, popping the tab on his soda with a satisfying hiss. His gaze was far off, fixed on something only he could see. "Becca would always remind me to eat something proper. Used t' get so caught up in work that I'd forget."

A small smile appeared on his lips, a rare occurrence that only happened when the man spoke of his beloved wife.

"She'd pack these bloody awful sandwiches," he continued, taking a sizable bite out of his meal. His tone was warm. "Didn't have the heart to tell her I hated them."

Hughie smiled at this small insight into Butcher's personal life; it made him seem less like a man who could beat his teeth in and more like an ordinary man with an unwavering loyalty to someone he loved dearly.

As they made small talk and enjoyed their meal, Butcher began to masterfully steer the conversation to the one reason why he was actually there talking to Hughie.

"Y'know, Hughie," he began, his eyes now focused on the younger man. "Things are not always as they seem in this bloody world."

He paused to take another swig of his soda, watching Hughie's reaction.

Hughie's eyebrows furrowed, not expecting something like a conspiracy to come out of Butcher of all people.

"What do you mean?"

"Vought." The word rolled off Butcher's tongue like a curse, his gaze steely and calculating. "They're hiding things, Hughie. Dark things that people like you are oblivious to."

"…Vought?" Becca's assistant said out loud in disbelief. "Are we talking about the same Vought here? The company that makes superheroes, that Vought? You're joking, right?"

His initial reaction was to laugh, thinking that Butcher was just joking around. However, his laughter died a terrible death in his throat as he saw the unamused grim expression on Butcher's face.

The corners of his mouth were turned down in a stern frown and his eyes held a hard glint, showing that he was not in the mood for jokes. The once-light atmosphere suddenly felt tense and heavy, making the man regret ever finding humor in the situation.

Hughie swallowed hard. He had a sinking feeling that this was no ordinary break room chat anymore.

"You're not joking…" his voice barely audible.

"No, Hughie," Butcher responded, his voice laden with gravity. "I'm as serious as a heart fucking attack."

"But...but they make heroes," his mind reeling. "And they save people."

"More like monsters than heroes," Butcher laughed bitterly then. "And yeah, they do. On camera, that is. But what about the things that happen off-camera, Hughie? The things Vought conveniently sweeps under the rug?"

"Things that'll keep you awake at night." He said solemnly. "And all of them done by the very people we call heroes."

"I-I don't believe you."

"Well, I can't say I expected you to, lad," Butcher said, a hint of regret lacing his gruff voice. He leaned back into his chair, crumpling the sandwich wrapper in his hand. "It's easier not to believe. To live in denial."

"…Why are you telling me this?" Hughie asked, his voice trembling, the color draining from his face.

"I need your help, Hughie," Butcher said finally, staring at him directly. His gaze bore so deeply into Hughie's soul that it felt like he was reading all his innermost secrets. "I want you to leak information for me."

"Leak information? Are you insane?" Hughie spluttered, choking on the last of his soda. The thought of betraying his employer was unthinkable.

Butcher discarded the wrapper with a casual flick of his wrist, letting it flutter to the ground. From his pocket, he retrieved a bright yellow folder with crisp edges and slid it toward Hughie on the smooth surface of the table. Hughie tried to keep his expression neutral, though a prickle of unease ran through him.

Butcher leaned forward, planting sturdy arms on the table as he spoke.

"The world," he began, voice serious. "They see these heroes as infallible gods and Vought as their benevolent creator. But that's an image they've carefully constructed, lad. A fabrication."

Hughie glanced down at the folder before looking back up at Butcher. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked at the folder again, his hand almost trembling as he reached out for it.

"They like us to believe we're all just cogs in their machine, dispensable and replaceable." He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair traces of frustration lining his face. "Willing to accept everything they feed us without question."

Hughie watched him silently, absorbing everything he said.

"They've got secrets," Butcher continued, focusing on Hughie. "Dirty ones. And they'll do anything to keep 'em buried."

"…Like what?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

Butcher leaned in closer and tapped on the file Hughie held in his hands. "Start with that, lad. It ain't a light read, but you asked for the evidence. Open it up and you'll see just how deep the rabbit hole goes."

He stood up from his chair and began to walk away, his broad shoulders a dark silhouette against the light. Halfway to the door, he turned back, looking at Hughie with a marked intensity.

"But be warned, Hughie," he said, his voice low and gravely as he stared down at the younger man. "Once you start digging into this, there's no going back. It's a one-way ticket mate."

Hughie could only nod. His mind was spinning, thoughts crashing against one another like angry waves against a rocky shore.

"And make sure not to tell anyone about this, ay? Or I might have to bash your fucking head in, and I don't want to do that, you get me?" Butcher grabbed his shoulders with a death-like grip.

"Y-Yeah," Hughie replied, his voice choked with fear. "N-Not a word, I-I promise."

Butcher nodded, seemingly satisfied with Hughie's response.

"Contact me when you made your choice after reading through the file," Butcher stated, releasing Hughie from his grip. "You have my number."

With a final nod towards Hughie, Butcher left the room, leaving Hughie alone with his thoughts and the daunting file that lay before him.