Conquering the Multiverse Starting with the Black Robe

Looking at Butcher, who seemed to have gone mad, Hughie vaguely felt that he was still not satisfied. This was not surprising, after all, he had suffered the pain of losing an arm, and his hatred for superhumans far exceeded that for himself.

Hughie suddenly remembered that he had only wanted to help Robin get justice, but he had somehow ended up like this, and it didn't even feel real. These were things that he should have never had the chance to experience in his entire life.

The woman's voice was muffled, the pain making it hard for her to breathe, "Hiss... those things, they were brought by the locomotive."

The ferocity on Butcher's face slowly faded, and he sat back down. "Who are you bringing this to? He certainly won't need this much himself."

"I really don't know... I only know that he was transporting Compound V for the Vought Corporation, and the meeting place was a noodle shop in the city."

Which noodle shop?

"A Chinese noodle restaurant." She paused, speaking haltingly. "I don't know the name. He wouldn't let me go with him. Every time he came back, he would bring back a bowl of hot dry noodles, but there was no logo or restaurant phone number on the box."

"Oi, French. Looks like we won't have to put up with your awful Russian-French food anymore."

After listening, Butcher slowly stood up, drew his pistol, his eyes filled with malice, and his gaze toward the woman was devoid of warmth, as if he were looking at a cold corpse.

"Wait, I've already told you everything I know!"

"Please, don't kill me! I've told you everything!"

The woman with the claws widened her eyes, and her breathing became rapid again.

Just then, the phone rang. Butcher glanced at the woman with the claws, put down his gun, and turned on his phone.

There was a video email and several voice messages from Rean, containing evidence of the Wharf experiment filmed in the Sagewood Forest.

"How's your business going?" Rean's tone sounded somewhat dull and empty, as if he had been through something.

Boucher pressed the voice button and replied, "Everything is under control."

He put away his phone, weighed the gun on the table in his hand, glanced at it, and then did something that surprised everyone.

He handed the gun to Hughie.

Hughie seemed a little distracted, subconsciously taking the item. He paused for two seconds before snapping out of his daze, staring blankly at Butcher. "What?"

"It's time to help you, you newbie, Shi Pi."

"The safety is on; you just need to pull the trigger."

Boucher pointed at the woman with the claws and said calmly.

Hughie was dumbfounded.

He looked at the gun in his hand, all black, slightly heavy, and cold. Then he looked at the woman bound by chains, curled up in a chair, her face covered in blood and tears.

It was just an ordinary Glock 9mm pistol, a common item that could be bought at any gun shop, but Hughie stared at it intently, as if he were mesmerized, not moving an inch.

Something began to sprout in my heart.

"Hughie?" Noticing that he was distracted, Butcher patted him on the shoulder.

Hughie snapped back to reality as if struck by lightning. "Me? No... Butcher, we can't kill her, she's innocent."

"Innocent?" Butcher shook his head. "She's blinded by love. You're just overflowing with a saintly heart."

"Hughie, she hid Compound V for Locomotive and knows this stuff inside and out. How can an accomplice be said to be innocent?"

Think about it, without this thing, there would be no superhumans in the world, and Robin would still be holding your hand as you stroll down the street, instead of turning into a pool of blood for no reason.

Butcher's eyes were sinister as she walked up to the trembling man. "And she saw our faces. French's, Sherry's, and yours and mine. We absolutely cannot leave this door alive."

"What, you want her to tell the locomotive about this, so that drug-addicted lunatic will introduce us all to Robin?"

"Fuckbatchel, I can't do it! I can't kill people!" Hughie pursed his lips, his eyes darting around, trying to throw the gun away.

"An eye for an eye. The locomotive killed Robin; a life for a life. This is war, Hughie!"

Butcher frowned, stopping him, forcefully shoving the gun back into Hughie's hand, lifting his arm, pointing it at the woman's head, and yelling in his ear, "Haven't you always wanted revenge? To avenge the woman who died!"

"Just do it!"

"No! Please, don't kill me! I won't tell anyone, please!" The woman with the demonic claws struggled desperately, crying with tears and snot streaming down her face.

"Fuck..." Hughie was sprayed with spittle in his face, his knuckles turned white from clenching his fists, but he couldn't make up his mind for a long time.

He knew Butcher was right, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

French interrupted loudly, "Hey, stop pressuring him, Butcher, let me handle this!"

"Get the hell out of my way, French. You're like a busybody, like a gossip. Did you catch that from playing too many poker with those old ladies after you retired?"

"If he continues to be so cowardly, can you trust him with your life?"

We're a team; we can clean up each other's messes, provided no one else is making a mistake!

Butcher's face darkened completely. "Jesus Hughie! I don't have time to give you a fucking counseling session here!"

This isn't a game. If someone drags you down or can't be ruthless, it will ruin the game for everyone.

Look at this world, look at these beasts disguised as heroes!

Kill that damn knock-off Catwoman! Do you want to see more people turned into mincemeat by trains before you're satisfied?

Hughie's breathing became more rapid, his whole body trembled violently, his vision blurred, his ears were ringing, and he felt a surge of heat rushing to his head.

"Shoot her, or you'll die with her!"

"Aaaaaah!—"

Hughie let out a low growl that sounded like he was about to collapse.

The pent-up grievances, anger, and fear that had been suppressed for so long finally rebounded and erupted at this moment!

boom!

A cluster of sparks flew and shimmered.

Dust swirled in the dim light, and the crisp sound of a gunshot drowned out all the arguing, leaving only heavy breathing.

Butcher lowered his head, looking at the blood blooming on his chest.

I rubbed the wound with my fingers, and the pain took several breaths to reach my brain.

"Don't eat pickled radishes..."

Butcher coughed up blood, swayed, knocked over his chair, and collapsed to the ground in a disheveled state.

"Butcher!"

French gasped, ripped off his sunglasses, and looked at Hughie with disbelief and shock.

"Hughie! What have you done?! What the hell have you done?!"

pat.

The gun in his hand fell to the ground.

Hughie gasped for breath, staring at his trembling hands, his mind blank.

"Oh my god... Butcher..."

French rushed forward, shoving Hughie aside as he tried to approach. "It pierced your lung, didn't it? Damn it, the bleeding won't stop!"

French pressed hard on Butcher's wound, blood gushing out between his fingers and staining his clothes red in the blink of an eye. "Shirley! First aid kit! Hang in there, buddy, I'll get you to the hospital right now!"

"You're kidding me... I can't last that long. I've lost so much blood, my arteries must have been punctured." Butcher's face was pale, and he coughed up blood with difficulty. His voice sounded like a bellows, and each breath had a slight whistling sound.

His forehead veins bulged as he laboriously turned his head, completely ignoring his injuries. Looking at Hughie, who was at a loss and looked guilty, he still had the leisure to tease him, "You kid... really are 'Wesley,' a born killer."

"Stop talking, Butcher, save your energy. Stay awake, don't close your eyes! I'm calling the boss right now!"

French slapped his face and yelled.

Due to rapid blood loss, Butcher's eyes gradually lost focus and became unfocused. In the distance, he seemed to see Becca's figure smiling at him.

Suddenly, a large hand wrapped around the woman's shoulder from behind, a contemptuous and smug smile on its face. Who else could it be but that cloaked beast?

Butcher shuddered, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head, and he immediately perked up. He pursed his lips slightly and raised his hand with trembling hands, pointing to the lady's handbag not far away.

"I need...that thing."