The remark about his face landed exactly where Jude had aimed it. The man started to snap back, but his eyes shifted sideways, tracking Jude's gaze.
His right hand throbbed. His arms burned. Jude had just dropped his gaze briefly to his crotch.
The alley was still very recent history.
His jaw worked. He clamped down on the word for half a second. It was the absolute maximum restraint his personality allowed. Then he said it anyway.
"Go to hell." He set his glass down. "My name is Billy Butcher, and I'm not the same trade as my name"
He paused.
"I do, however, enjoy killing animals."
The bite on the word made it clear he was not talking about livestock.
Jude observed him, filing away the information. None of it was surprising.
How does a personality like this survive long enough to develop skills? The stubbornness went all the way down to the bone. It pushed back against everything, including his own survival. Some people were simply built to refuse.
"Did you need something from me, Butcher?" he asked.
Butcher glanced around the bar. Finding the space clear, he leaned forward.
"I remember you. You were with Superman. What were you doing visiting Hugh Campbell?"
"Finding out what terms Vought International offered him as hush money," Jude said. "And you?"
Butcher's original plan for tonight had involved him holding the gun and asking the questions. That plan was currently undergoing revision. He took a long pull from his drink.
"None of your business," he said.
"Fair enough. You can sleep on it and catch Vought's Heroes Eight press conference tomorrow instead."
A muscle in Butcher's jaw jumped at the mention of Vought. A vicious tension pinched the corners of his eyes, then smoothed out.
"Super scum," he said. He spat the words into his glass. "You actually like that bunch?"
"Not particularly," Jude said. "My friend went in. I'm monitoring the situation." He turned his drink on the coaster. "Your turn."
Butcher looked at him.
"Same as you," he said finally. He dragged the words out, resenting the concession. "I came to find Campbell. To find out what terms they offered him to keep quiet. And to find out what actually happened."
"I can tell you what actually happened. A-Train was running high on something and nearly killed Robin. Superman and I were there when it happened. Superman intercepted him. She's alive because of that."
"I fucking knew it." Butcher's face stayed flat, but his grip tightened on his glass. "And now Vought's spinning a near-fatal into a positive. Press conference, public apology, make the supe look like a hero." He shook his head. The contempt sat deep in the lines of his face. "Disgusting."
He spat on the floor.
"Can you not do that in here."
Butcher looked at him. He offered no apology. He just poured more of his drink.
"Why don't you like the Eight?" he asked, picking up the thread Jude had dropped. "You said your friend joined. So what's your problem with them?"
"At least four of the eight are predators," Jude said. "People who use their position as a weapon against others under them. Anyone with that kind of power and no moral agenda isn't a hero. They're a liability that happens to have good PR." He turned his glass again. "Vought selects for commercial value. Commercial value means charisma and spectacle. That's not the same as character. So naturally they end up with superstars who happen to be bad people, because that's what the selection filters for."
Butcher stared at him, his eyes narrowing slightly as he weighed the words.
"Even Superman has a problem with them?"
"He shares my assessment. Now it's my question. Why do you hate Vought? You're clearly not doing this professionally or recreationally. This is personal."
He waited.
Butcher's features tightened. The shift happened fast, bleeding through the rough exterior before he could stop it. A heavy, hollow sag around the eyes. A sharp flinch in the jaw. And underneath it all, a dense, dark heat. A fury running on fuel that had been burning for years without running dry.
Then the wall came back down.
"My business," he said, "is none of yours."
"It could be." Jude kept his voice level. "You want to deal with supe criminals who operate without consequences. I want to deal with the infrastructure that protects them. Those are the same problem approached from different angles. That's a basis for cooperation."
Butcher let out a short, harsh breath through his nose.
"Cooperate. With you. Based on a conversation in a bar." He looked Jude up and down. "I'd sooner work with that weedy kid whose girlfriend almost got flattened. At least I know where he stands."
"You know where I stand too," Jude said. "You were at the hotel before you came to the electronics store. You checked the surveillance footage. You knew what Vought offered Campbell before you walked through that door. You knew he'd accepted it." He paused. "And you still brought the gun."
Butcher went dead still.
"A man looking for cooperation doesn't bring a weapon to a meeting with someone who just took a settlement," Jude continued. "A man who has decided someone cannot be trusted, who has already decided what kind of problem they represent, brings a gun." He held Butcher's gaze. "You weren't there to seek Hughie's cooperation tonight. You were there to interrogate him. Or to silence him."
He let the silence stretch out.
"You are a ruthless butcher," Jude said, "who will stop at nothing."
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