Chapter 250: Bloodshed and Massacre!!

Soon the nightclub called Supe House had two uninvited guests.

Butcher and Mother’s Milk came through the window into the toilet just as someone shoved the door open. A drunk white guy. He looked up, saw the two of them, and a knowing little smile crossed his face.

"Sorry, didn’t know anyone was in here. You two carry on. Don’t mind me."

He backed up a few steps and even closed the door for them.

"Shit! I ain’t no goddamn queer! The way that bastard looked at us was filthier than this toilet," Mother’s Milk snarled from the stall, face twisted.

"Business first. Don’t forget why we came."

Butcher’s face stayed flat. He squatted, checked the sonic weapon in the suitcase one more time, made sure it was intact and nothing missing, then walked out first.

The music inside was loud enough to rattle teeth and the lights kept shifting colors. It was getting under Butcher’s skin.

On the center stage a few girls in almost nothing were grinding while the crowd screamed and whistled. Every time they did something extra filthy the audience went wild and threw cash.

Most of the tips were ones and fives. You barely even saw a ten.

Butcher sniffed the mix of smells hanging in the air and frowned.

"You catch that particular stink?"

"Go take a walk through Queens. I guarantee you’ll never forget that smell."

Mother’s Milk pointed at a supe sitting in the corner. Easy to spot. Four mouths, all of them smoking at once, showing off to anyone who looked.

"Looks like Hughie’s management didn’t scare a single soul." Butcher pushed through the crowd.

This place put the ugly side of people under bright lights. Rape, drugs, people getting beaten, it was happening every minute. Heaven for supes. Hell for everyone else.

"Don’t do anything stupid. A lot of these supes are tied to Vought."

Vought didn’t just have the Seven. They had three or four thousand supes on the books, maybe more. Vought sucked money and fame out of them, and those supes needed Vought to keep eating.

"You want me to back off?" Butcher gave a cold laugh and grabbed a girl’s arm. She stared at him, startled. No way she was over sixteen. Panic all over her face. Classmates had talked her into coming out of curiosity. When she tried to leave a few supes blocked her path.

She saw the grins on their faces and yelled for help. Nobody moved. A couple even drifted closer. Right when she was about to lose it, a steady, strong hand locked onto her right arm.

"Hey pal, I had my eye on this little piece first. You know the rules?" The lead white supe reached to snatch her from Butcher. Then he saw Mother’s Milk pull a pistol and put the black muzzle against his skull.

"Whoa, you for real? Don’t fuck around. How the hell did you even get that in here?"

The white guy grinned, hands up, still treating it like a joke.

"You two cops? No wonder I never seen you. Supe House ain’t a place you get to run wild. Put the gun down, get on your knees and beg. Maybe you walk out. Otherwise you leave on a stretcher." The white supe dropped his hands, full of himself.

More supes started crowding in. Butcher’s face went hard. He let go of the girl’s arm. She thought he was folding, about to leave her. Then he flicked the suitcase open, pulled out the receiver and the barrel, and snapped them together with a click. A weird-looking assault rifle sat in his hands.

"Don’t let those two walk out of here!" someone in the crowd shouted.

A few supes rushed Butcher, going for the gun.

Butcher calmly pressed the button on the grip.

A low-frequency wave rolled out in every direction. The supes who heard it twisted up in pain. Some clapped hands over their ears. Some dropped to the floor clutching their heads. Symptoms ran from bad to worse.

Worst was the loudmouth white guy. No body enhancement, almost no resistance to sound. He foamed at the mouth like he was having a seizure and face-planted.

The girl next to Butcher stared at the screaming, writhing supes, too shocked to speak.

"Test successful. This thing you built works just fine." Butcher walked up to the white supe, rifle in both hands.

"You pieces of shit should’ve died a long time ago."

The man was still twitching on the floor. Butcher pulled the trigger without a second thought. The shot punched a clean hole dead center in his forehead.

The white supe stopped moving. Eyes blank, staring off to the side. Red-and-white sludge leaked from the hole in his brow.

"What the fuck?" Mother’s Milk looked stunned. He had known Butcher would kill someone. He had not expected it this fast, in front of a whole room. Forget Mallory. Even the President himself could not wash this off.

"We’re not done."

First kill in a long time. Every cell in Butcher’s body was buzzing. He swung the muzzle to another supe. Bang. Blood sprayed. A satisfied, crazy grin split his face, mouth pulled back like someone had hooked the corners.

"Superpower? Where’s your superpower now?" He stomped one of them in the gut, bent down, and stared straight into the man’s eyes.

"Remember my name. I’m Butcher. When you get to hell, don’t you forget who sent you." He jammed the barrel into the man’s mouth. The guy’s eyes begged. Butcher grinned and pulled the trigger. Bang. The round blew out the back of the skull and left a bloody pit in the floor.

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Read 12 Advance Chapters—P@t- Captain69