The Boys: I'm the Origin of Compound V

Chapter 21: Fractures

The team returned to the safehouse just before dawn, the weight of their latest mission pressing down on them like a storm cloud. The air inside was thick with tension as each member went about their own routines—Frenchie unpacking his tools, Hughie slumped in a chair staring at nothing, and Butcher pacing with restless energy. Adam leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, exhaustion pulling at his body but his mind too wired to rest.

The faint hum of a kettle boiling in the corner broke the silence, and Frenchie finally spoke. "That could've gone smoother."

Butcher snorted. "Smoother? We torched their bloody lab, got out alive. I'd call that a win."

"Yeah, but what about the fallout?" Hughie asked, his voice quiet. "Vought's not gonna just let this slide."

"They never do," Adam said, his tone flat.

Butcher turned to him, his gaze sharp. "What's your problem, sunshine? We hit them where it hurts, didn't we?"

Adam met his glare, unflinching. "And how many innocent people got caught in the crossfire? You think burning down a lab fixes anything? It just makes them dig their claws in deeper."

"Don't lecture me about collateral damage," Butcher snapped. "I'm doing what needs to be done. If you've got a better plan, I'm all ears."

Adam's hands curled into fists at his sides, the faint glow of his energy flickering in response to his rising anger. "Maybe we stop treating this like a game. Every time we blow something up, we're just giving Vought more ammo to spin their propaganda."

"Enough!" Frenchie's voice cut through the argument like a whip. He slammed his hand on the table, his usually easygoing demeanor replaced with rare seriousness. "We're all fighting the same enemy, non? Stop tearing each other apart."

The room fell silent, the tension simmering beneath the surface but held in check by Frenchie's outburst.

Adam closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Fine," he said, his voice quieter. "But we need to think smarter. If we keep acting like wrecking balls, we're not gonna win this war."

Butcher's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he turned away, his shoulders stiff as he muttered, "We'll see."

Later, as the others drifted into their own corners of the safehouse, Adam sat by the window, staring out at the city below. The first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, painting the skyline in shades of orange and gold.

Hughie approached hesitantly, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "You okay?"

Adam didn't look away from the window. "No. But that's nothing new."

Hughie shifted awkwardly, then sat down across from him. "For what it's worth, I think you're right. About thinking smarter, I mean. Butcher's... he's got his way of doing things. Doesn't mean it's always the right way."

Adam's lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. "Thanks, Hugh. But we're all playing the same dangerous game, no matter how we spin it."

"Yeah, but..." Hughie hesitated. "You don't have to play it alone."

Adam finally looked at him, something softening in his gaze. "Thanks."

The two sat in companionable silence, the weight of the mission lingering but momentarily less crushing.

The respite didn't last long.

By mid-morning, Frenchie had pieced together more of the stolen intel, spreading it across the table for the team to review.

"Mesmer wasn't lying," Frenchie said, his tone grim. "Vought's got more labs like the one we just destroyed. This is bigger than we thought."

"How big?" Butcher asked, leaning over the table.

Frenchie tapped one of the documents, a map dotted with red markers. "This big. They're not just experimenting—they're mobilizing. These aren't just labs; they're training facilities. They're creating an army."

Hughie paled. "An army of supes?"

"Exactement," Frenchie confirmed.

Adam studied the map, his jaw tightening. "And we're supposed to take this down with what? A handful of charges and some improvised plans?"

Butcher's smirk returned, though it didn't reach his eyes. "What, you scared?"

"No," Adam said, his voice cold. "I'm realistic. If we're gonna take on something this big, we need more than just guts and luck. We need allies."

"Allies?" Butcher scoffed. "Who the hell do you think is gonna help us? The bloody Justice League?"

Adam ignored the sarcasm, pointing to one of the markers on the map. "Here. This lab. It's smaller, less secure. They're recruiting from local populations—testing people without direct ties to Vought. If we can find someone there, someone who's been hurt by this, we might have a chance to build some real resistance."

Frenchie nodded slowly. "It's a risk, but he's not wrong. If we keep fighting alone, we'll be overwhelmed eventually."

Butcher frowned, his jaw working as he considered the suggestion. Finally, he relented with a curt nod. "Fine. But we do it my way. One step out of line, and I pull the plug. Clear?"

Adam didn't reply, but his silence was answer enough.

That night, as the team prepared for their next move, Adam found himself standing alone in the dim light of the safehouse kitchen. The glow of his energy flickered faintly in his palm, a reminder of the power he carried—and the burden it brought.

Adam sighed, letting the energy fade. "I don't need your advice," he muttered.

But deep down, he knew the system wasn't entirely wrong. He couldn't keep fighting for the team's goals without confronting his own demons.

And he had plenty of those.