The stars harbored Lenore Medina from her exile.

   A shadowy night was the perfect place to hide, because it too, was shunned in a way. Whenever the moon came to call, onlookers shielded their eyes to sleep. Few stragglers remained to keep it company. If not for them, it could have even been treated as a mythic thing. Just like her.

   The silhouette of a young woman swiftly crossed down a narrow avenue. Only the glittering city lights could act as witnesses. Her heart pulsated in her chest; because she had been delicately weaving through night-fellows for... she wasn't sure how long. Bleeding streetlamp illumination slicked across her curly dark hair, before she fell back into the darkness.

   Her face was dawned in a mask that crept up from her shirt collar. Determination emanated from her eyes as she found her target. A house hooked on the outskirts of the city.

   It was unassuming from the outside. You certainly wouldn't think it belonged to an infamous, and ambiguously sane man. She cut through a cobbled street, while her fingertips drifted to the gun at her waist. In it's holster, the metal object reflected a multitude of sins that did not belong to her. Along with it was a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She listened to the rhythm of the city; a cacophony of honking horns and distant yelling. There was always distant yelling.

   She narrowed her eyes, and her lips pursed beneath her mask. The woman thought through her plan again. The major topic points that a 'dead' supe would have to go through. A flame lowly flicked across her irises, lambently showcasing her boiling blood from the inside out. This had to work. He had to listen. He had to agree to help her. If he didn't, well, that would make her life a lot harder.

   Cautiously, she rapped her bruised knuckles against the thick wooden door.

   It wasn't but a moment later that the hinges complained. She rolled her shoulders back, hand perched at the ready on her weapon. The groaning metal silenced when a looming figure appeared at the door. Lenore rose her chin, plagued by an insurmountable tightening of her chest. Her eyes steeled, narrowing to slits thin as a blade.

   Light poured against his frame from inside the house, but did little to highlight his face. She could make out vague features. Every fine strand of stubble along his jawline was defined in the stark contrast. His broad shoulders, muscular physique, the deadly glint in his dark eyes, most importantly the gun in his hand. She stood confidently, not phased by that. It happened so often, she would have found it more unsettling if he didn't have one.

   And, this was the elusive Billy Butcher, after all.

   "I'm looking to make some people pay, and heard you were my guy." These words carried weight. They tugged from deep inside her suffocating soul. Her tongue felt heavy as she spoke them. Night's chill traced up her spine. It cooled the anger bubbling up inside her, that was so hot it could have melted her insides.

   He stepped to the side, allowing light to scour both of them. Billy's gaze trailed down to her gun, then to her cloaked face. Hesitation prodded her, but was forced away quickly. As if reading his mind, she pulled down her mask. A kick of urgency filled her now that she was exposed in public. Lenore rose an eyebrow, heart racing with hope.

   The bastard had the nerve to chuckle. "What'd you have in mind?" Curiosity and interested glimmered in his expression. He lowered his gun, which she took as a good sign. She nodded to the door as a silent ask to be let in. It wasn't a good idea to linger outside without her mask on. Plus, this information was too sensitive to risk being heard by anyone passing by.

   With open arms, Billy gestured her inside. "You know, you aren't nearly as dead as they're making you seem in the papers, doll."

"Don't I know it. They aren't doing me any justice with the story they put out either," Lenore replied demurely. She walked into his home, keeping an eye on his gun. After glancing around in search of cameras, audio tapes or anything that could incriminate her, she faced him again. She lazily rose her hand in a puppet, and gestured with it like it was a talking head. "Daft bimbo we only hired out of pity gets wacked within her first month on the team," she scoffed, flicking that same hand with an eye roll.

Billy lowered into a seat beside a card table, eyes glittering in amusement. "I think we read different articles."

With his gun still steady in his hand, he used the other to pick up a newspaper from the table. He propped his head back to read. "Lenore Medina has been pronounced dead after a heroic battle against callus drug slinging group: The Grey Matter. They were infamous for selling illicit items on the black market and human trafficking," he recited in his chipper English accent. His voice echoed off the walls. "The fight was won, however the supe sustained fatal wounds due to falling shrapnel."

Holding his gaze, she say across from him and used a fingertip to drag the paper down. Then she underlined a part later in the article.

"Fellow member of The Seven, Homelander, says the team is grieving the tragic loss of their newest hero. He went on to say, "Lenore was a hopeful, innocent young girl who surprised everyone with her strength and plucky attitude."Her early death will be remember with heavy hearts, and caution for future operations."

Her bitter smirk burned out like a candle wick. "Read between the lines."

He mused on this with narrowed eyes. "Fair enough," he nodded. "What does an exiled supe need from Billy Butcher then?" He pointed at himself, smirking wickedly. Lenore got the distinct impression he was enjoying this moment a bit too much.

"I told you." The sound of whispering flames. The kind that burned in secret, beginning a wildfire without making a peep. It resonated deeply, yet set a sharp yet subtle tone. "I want to make some people pay."

"Don't get too hostile on me, lass," he chuckled in defense. "It's an intriguing offer. I just need some more information first."

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

He ran a hand across his stubble, mirth dancing in his features. Wagging a finger, his laugh fueled the fire kindling in the room. "But will it be the truth?" He arched an eyebrow. Despite his good natured posture, his eyes intently followed every flick in Lenore's expression. She felt smaller under his observation, but she sat up a bit straighter instead of shrinking back. Billy leaned forward to prop his elbows on the table. "How's about we start with this..."

He trailed off, and she waited silently for him to finish. The air made room for the atmosphere to grow tense, like her lungs were being pierced with a needle. She rivaled his lingering stare. Not even the most minute movement got past her. Her composure was neat, tied up like the hair of a pinup but tides were shifting inside. It felt like she was standing on a cliff, waiting to see if she'd fall or retreat back.

"Why the hell is the world in a national state of grieving for a girl who's sitting in front of me?"

   Lenore held her tongue for a second. She repeated all she was willing to tell him internally. All the words she had practiced, leading up to his door.

   "I agreed too little, and knew too much."

   The lines around his eyes scrunched in understanding. His fingers fell away from his gun, so he could fold them over his chest and lean back. "Realized the supes were a bunch of cunts then?"

   For the first time since everything happened, she cracked a genuine smile. A light eased her dully throbbing heart, even briefly as it was, she savored it. "Realized that, and then a certain translucent skinned fucker overheard my plans to divulge the 'too much' that I know."

   Saying that aloud made every inch of her flush with anger. Scarlet lit at the tops of her ears, and around her neck - luckily the light was dim enough to conceal it. Her lips slinked to a frown. She wanted to do more than frown. Viscerally, Lenore wanted to scream until she was mistaken for a banshee. She couldn't... there was a better use for red heart.

   Billy looked her over. He took in her bruises knuckles, perhaps the bags under her eyes. The dim lilt of fury building in her voice. She couldn't pinpoint what he was thinking, though his features did shift seriously.

   "So, they faked your death? I guess they were too wrapped up in their own assholes to think that you may not be an enemy they want," he barked a laugh.

   Lenore leaned in this time, turning to stone. "They faked my death, yes. After killing all the people that I love." Her chest undulated, as her voice perfectly annunciated her dormant rage. They killed everyone besides her baby sister. Lenore didn't know where they had taken her, but Billy was a part of the puzzle to find out. She had to find Maisy. She was the only thing that mattered in this world, she had been since they were buoyant children.

She would have died just to ensure Maisy was safe, and not being tortured or something even worse.

In Butcher's uncertain quiet, Lenore further explained how Madelyn Stillwater had killed them when she threatened to go public. She believed people deserved to know the truth about their beloved heroes. But at what cost? If she had known... her soul writhed in pain. She would have never done any of it, if she had known how it would end.

Lenore saw a flick of sympathy in his downturned lips. It didn't last long, like a candle being blown out. Then it morphed to an unbelieving smirk.

"What then, doll? You want me to help you dust seven supes? Sorry, but I'm not in the business of offing national treasures. Too much media attention," he sighed, humored at the very idea.

"No. If you ask me, they're the daft bimbos," she retorted. "I doubt they were even clued in on the fact that I'm not dead. I'm not in the business of taking such silly risks anyway. However," Lenore pulled out a piece of paper from her coat pocket. It was crumpled, but she did her best to flatten it. "I do have a list of names I'd like you to take a look at."

She handed it to him. Billy quickly began to read it, then returned to their staring match skeptically. "Who are all these assholes then?" He set the paper on the table between them. "I'm guessing it's not a list of your hall-passes," he mused insincerely.

Lenore scrunched her nose. "I'm willing to bet you know at least half the names on that list. Meaning you also know they're stuffy, old men with superiority complexes that would need to pop three viagra to get it up."

Billy smiled innocently, and held his hands up. "I don't judge," his tone shifted an octave higher. "Some people like choking, I'm sure others like the tense waiting of a weak libido," he shrugged, clearly amused at himself.

"You like to keep things light, don't ya?" She smirked, halfway between annoyed and glad for the stupid joke. "Well, for the better or worse, that's a list of everyone involved in killing my family." She drew in a sharp sigh to clear any weakness from her voice. "I want them dead, or to suffer for the rest of their lives. Either is fine by me." Lenore was shockingly casual as she spoke, in an effort not to get emotional.

It had only been a couple days since it all went down. Her vengeance was a good but limited distraction. "I have more information I can give, but I won't say another word until I know if you're interested or not."

Billy practically had calculation running through his mind. Her heart raced again, as it had before she knocked. He had to help. She couldn't do this alone, it was too ambitious even for someone of her caliber. She had to get revenge, and information on her sister.

"Would should I be interested in dusting a couple viagra addicts?"

Lenore slipped down the duffel bag on her arm to prop it on the table. She unzipped it, slowly revealing the stacks upon stacks of cash inside. She could see his interest but knew he wasn't convinced. She set her chin on her fist carefully.

"But I heard guys like you tend to deal in favors." If this was correct, and she hoped it was, she had a very enticing service to offer. "If that's the case for the famed Billy Butcher, you'll have a shiny ticket blood boiling, mimicking or controlling. One time use." Those powers of her's were what had landed her here in the first place. She would have been dim to not know the magnitude of their value though. "One favor, and a fuckton of cash. What do you say?"

"Deal."

-

~who is you favorite character from The Boys?~

Hello wonderful readers!
First chapter is officially up! What did we think? I really hope you liked it! Honestly, I've been having a really hard tome writing recently but this majorly helped to ease me out of my funk. If you liked it, please consider telling me in the comments and giving a vote! Have a lovely day or night!