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"Well, that was great, guys." Hughie turns to Bellamy, Frenchie, and Butcher with a disapproving look after they just failed to kill Translucent. Frenchie turns to him as Bellamy crosses his arms. "That was awesome."

"I didn't see you doing anything." Bellamy voices, extremely pissed off it didn't work. Why didn't it work?!

Butcher straightens from his hunched over position at the counter. "Bellamy, Frenchie, back later." Is all he says as he turns away.

"Where are you going?" Frenchie snips same time Bellamy scoffs, "The fuck are you going?"

Butcher sighs, putting on his jacket. "Got an idea. Long shot, might help."

"Now?" Hughie looks at him in disbelief.

"Yeah, well, it's all under control here, isn't it?" Butcher says casually.

"And we're just supposed to babysit him while your gone?" Bellamy points his thumb at Hughie, growing angry by the minute that now after dragging him and Frenchie into this mess, his brother was fucking off and leaving them with his new little wanker sidekick.

"Try not to bugger each other." Butcher just smirks before heading upstairs.

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Bellamy kicks his boot around on the dusty floor as him and Frenchie watch outside- well, Frenchie mostly.

The sound of a car pulling up snaps Bellamy's attention up. He peers out and see's an SUV. Fuck.

Him and Frenchie quickly grab their guns and look out again. The car slowly drive on. The exchange a look when suddenly a radio transmission is heard and they move quickly behind a dividend, clicking their guns. They glance up and find flashlights shining as Bellamy begins counting how many bodies he can make out.

They move to stand by a window right before a man shatters it, only shining his light in before moving on as someone over his radio says the signal's going in and out, and to keep searching.

Bellamy and Frenchie exhale, turning to each other, sweat pouring from their foreheads they both nod, ready to head back down.

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Hughie covers his ears with both hands like a child as Bellamy and Frenchie emerge from Translucent's cell with drills in their hands.

"Fucking diamond skin!" Frenchie hollers out.

"I told you that wouldn't work." Bellamy shakes his head with a grin. What else did they really have to do?

Frenchie kicks the door shut and bangs his hand on the table causing Hughie to flinch. "Merde!"

Bellamy rakes his hand down his face and Frenchie pats down his apron, taking pulling something out he moves over to Hughie. "Here." He holds out his hand. "Here, take it." He shows him a pill.

"What is that?" Hughie looks down.

"It will help with your, uh, anxiety." Frenchie tells him and Bellamy snorts behind him. He'd love to see American on drugs. "It's LSD and MDMA." Frenchie explains. "This is a candy flip. It'll smooth you right out. Take it."

Hughie shakes his head. "Uh, thank you, but I-I don't think now is the time for a major hallucinogen." He denies the pill.

"Now's the perfect time." Bellamy raises his hands up as Frenchie pops the pill in his mouth.

"Fais-toi plaisir." Frenchie mutters, turning to Bellamy. "Chief?"

"Good, thanks." He hold his hand up. "For now." Bellamy was more of a hard liquor man, but he's dabbled before with Frenchie from time to time.

"Pas drole." Frenchie sniffs, effortlessly lifting himself to sit on the table and props his feet up next to Hughie.

"What are you exactly?" Hughie looks at Frenchie curiously. "Chemist? Engineer? What?"

"Ah." Bellamy smirks, stepping around he throws his arm over Frenchie's shoulders.

"No." Frenchie says, digging in another tiny bag. "I know a little about a lot of things."

"And you?" He looks up at Bellamy, a bit more nervous to ask him than Frenchie.

Bellamy lifts a brow. "Let's just say I'm good with a gun, and my fists. How 'bout that?" He stares down at Hughie causing him to swallow.

"We're gunrunners by trade," Frenchie continues, rolling a joint. "But, uh, as you can see, we've developed a certain niche." Bellamy chuckles to himself.

"Killing superheroes?" Hughie presumes.

"No." Frenchie is quick. "You can count on one hand the number of dead superheroes." He says.

"And you won't get far." Bellamy leans forward.

"Sometimes you can, uh, incapacitate them." Frenchie explains, licking his joint closed before pulling out his lighter.

"If you're lucky." Bellamy throws in.

"Truly, they are magnificent creatures." Frenchie comments, finally lighting the joint.

"If they weren't such cunts." Bellamy grunts, holding his hand out for a hit.

"Mm." Frenchie passes the joint to him. "Each one with a unique power that requires a unique solution. It's, uh..." He waves his hand around. "It's never the same twice."

"Making our job ten times the fucking fun." Bellamy inhales, blowing out the smoke.

"Who pays you to do that?" Hughie asks, soaking in all the information.

Frenchie shrugs with a smirk, taking the joint back. "Whoever can pay."

Hughie creases his forehead in thought. "And when you do kill a Supe— or, you know, any-anyone—" He stutters. "Um... what's it like?" He finally manages, the question bothering him all day.

Bellamy and Frenchie turn to each other with the same-knowingly look.

"You know..." Frenchie sniffs. "I saw this woman once, in a midtown elevator, 2008." He starts, licking his lips. "No more for ten seconds, I see her, huh? Stunning. Five-nine." He pauses, smiling. Bellamy shifts legs, listening intently. "Hair so black it absorbed the light, you know? Tom Ford pencil skirt, Louboutin stilettos. C'est magnifique." Hughie's brows knit together, unsure of where the story was going.

"But she had, uh... she had- I never forget this, you see- she had dirt under her fingernails and callouses on her hands, and I see this and I say, 'Oh, strange for such a refined woman like this.' What, you..." He chuckles. "You a gardener? You know, are you a sculptor? What is this, huh? And I think about this..." He nods, taking another hit, his face drops. "I think about her all the time. She was the first person I ever killed." He reveals and Bellamy squeezes his grip.

He's heard the story before, but he knows it's important for Frenchie to tell. Frenchie drowns in his kills and guilt, more than any of them. More than Bellamy himself. And Bellamy carries his guilt heavily. But he also swallows it.

And sometimes that's even worse... it's suffocating.

Butcher slows in the hall, listening to the conversation.

"I carry... I carry them all with me." Frenchie's eyes grow watery. "It's like scars in a way, you know?"

Hughie looks at him sorrowfully as Butcher looks down at the ground.

Bellamy swallows. Remembering his first kill. Or what he thought was his first kill.

He shot one of his officer's in order to be released from the military after he was informed his little brother Lenny had killed himself... and they wouldn't let him go home. And it worked. He was released.

Released into a whole new shit show...

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𝟶ʙᴜᴛᴛᴇʀʙɪsᴄᴜɪᴛ𝟽 sᴘᴇᴀᴋs!

Hello, helloooo!! Happy 4th of July!! And happy The Boys Thursdayyyy ;)

I can't believe people think Frenchie drowning in guilt in S4 is out of character when this scene with Hughie literally exists & it was literally in the 2nd ep!! (sorry mini rant rq lol)

Anywaysss, hope y'all enjoyed this chapter!! I tried to parallel Bellamy's "kill" here to what he did in the 100  (for those who haven't watched you don't have to lol, just wanted to mention that!)

Don't forget to comment your thoughts, questions, & reactions!! And hope everyone has a safe & fun holiday, until next time, mauh!!