Join my patreon
Here's the link: https://www.patreon.com/MrFlashXO
🔥 **Why join my Patreon?** 🔥
✅ **Exclusive chapters** before the peasants get them
✅ **Vote on story decisions** (Yes, you get to play God)
✅ **Behind-the-scenes madness** (aka my creative breakdowns)
✅ **Possibly a shoutout, definitely my eternal gratitude**
And the best part? **It's cheaper than therapy!** So stop being a freeloader and **support my unhinged storytelling** here:
👉 [patreon.com/MrFlashXO] 👈
Several have already joined them, why don't you try it out too, ehh?
Join now, or I'll make a character based on you… and kill them off horribly. Your choice. 💀
Anyways Happy Reading.
__________
·How much faster do you think you can run… without legs?Feb 18ShareThe knock hung in the air like a ticking bomb.
I turned my head slightly, focusing my enhanced senses. One person. Light, quick footsteps. A muttered curse under his breath.
Butcher's grip tightened on his gun. "The fuck is this now?"
The door creaked open before he could react.
A man stepped inside. Scruffy. Unshaven. Smelled like cigarettes and gunpowder. He barely glanced at us before his eyes landed on Translucent's corpse.
He froze. His entire body tensed. Then—
"Merde!"
Frenchie stumbled back, nearly tripping over himself. His accent thick, voice sharp with shock.
"What the absolute fuck is this?!" His wild eyes flicked to Butcher. "You call me up for a job, and you're already knee-deep in fucking—what the fuck, Butcher?!"
Butcher didn't even flinch. "Relax, mate."
"Relax?! You got a fucking corpse of a Supe in here!" Frenchie gestured wildly. "Do you know how fucking dead we all are?!"
I grinned. Oh, this guy was gonna be fun.
Frenchie's gaze flicked to me. He paused. Took me in. Something in his expression shifted—suspicion.
"Who the fuck is this?"
Butcher smirked. "New recruit."
Frenchie's stare sharpened. "This one? He's no amateur."
I chuckled. "Smart guy."
Frenchie pointed at the mess on the floor. "Tell me this wasn't his idea."
"More like his execution," Butcher muttered.
Frenchie groaned, rubbing his temples. "Fucking hell."
I took a step forward. "You got a problem with it?"
His eyes met mine—sharp, assessing. A guy who had seen some shit.
"…I got a problem with being caught," he muttered. Then, another sigh. "Ah, fuck it. I'm in now, aren't I?"
Butcher clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit."
Hughie, still pale as a sheet, finally found his voice. "Uh, should we, like… move the body?"
I smirked. "Oh, Hughie. You're finally thinking like a criminal."
Butcher grinned. "He's getting there."
___
Meanwhile, in the pristine halls of Vought Tower, Starlight was having the worst day of her life.
She had dreamed of this moment since she was a kid. Becoming a part of The Seven. The best of the best. The protectors of the innocent.
Now, as she stepped onto the massive stage, flashing cameras blinding her, she felt… sick.
Smiling faces. The CEO, Madelyn Stillwell, giving a well-rehearsed speech. Lamplighter's fake retirement grin.
And Homelander—standing tall, beaming like the goddamn sun.
He clapped her on the shoulder, voice booming into the mic.
"Welcome to The Seven, Starlight! You're gonna do great things."
The crowd cheered.
She smiled. She had to.
But deep down? Something felt… off.
---
Back at the warehouse,
I felt the familiar pull of the system.
[Daily Coin Received]
The air shimmered. A golden coin materialized in my palm.
Without hesitation, I flipped it.
[Spinning…]
The warehouse faded. A slot machine appeared in my mind. Marvel powers flashed across the screen. Mutant abilities. God-like powers. Some completely useless.
Click. Click. Click.
Then—
[New Power Assigned: Multiple Man's Duplication]
Huh.
I blinked. Felt it.
I stepped forward—then another version of me *peeled away,* like a mirage separating from its source.
"Oh," I said, grinning. "This'll be fun."
Frenchie stared. "What the fuck?"
Butcher's expression darkened.
Hughie? He looked ready to pass out.
I clapped my duplicate on the shoulder. "Alright, boys. What's next?"
Frenchie was still staring at my duplicate. His cigarette nearly fell from his lips.
"Mon dieu... this is fucking weird."
I patted my clone on the back. "Tell me about it."
The duplicate grinned, mirroring my expression. Perfectly.
Butcher exhaled sharply. "Alright, enough fucking magic tricks. We need to move. The Seven's gonna notice their little invisible twat ain't reporting in."
Hughie gulped. "So... what do we do?"
I gestured at Translucent's mangled body. "We could send them pieces. A finger for every hour."
The room fell silent.
Frenchie blinked. Hard. Butcher's eyes narrowed. Hughie? He looked like he'd throw up.
"…You're joking, right?" Hughie asked, voice small.
I tilted my head. "Am I?"
Silence.
Butcher scoffed. "Right. Noted. You're a proper fucking lunatic."
Frenchie muttered something in French. Probably about me.
Then—
BANG.
The door exploded inward.
A blur of blue tore through the warehouse, knocking over crates and sending debris flying.
A-Train.
That motherfucker.
I barely had time to react before he was in my face, fist pulled back.
Shit.
_______
In Vought Tower, Homelander stood in front of a massive screen.
Translucent's tracker? Offline.
Deep's voice crackled over the comms. Panicked. "Uh… hey, so… I think we've got a situation."
Madelyn Stillwell's expression didn't change. "Explain."
Deep gulped. "I found a bug under the table. I think Hughie Campbell planted it. And, uh… A-Train just ran out of here like a bat out of hell."
Homelander smiled. But his eyes? Cold as ice.
"Well," he said, voice smooth as silk. "Looks like we've got ourselves a hunt."
__________
A/N: I shouldn't break the rhythm, but I had to. Sorry for the inconvenience. But there are two important announcements and one thing that I would like to clarify. Some of the readers are calling me out because I have left some fanfics, some dropped some on hiatus. I don't mind u calling me out on that. It is great, but here's the thing. Any of the fanfics I wrote were all AUs. Yet they need the characters to be as they were in the series, movies or comics or whatsoever. That' s not how things worked. Some cursed me for that, some went on as far as calling me things and spreading hatred by leaving negative reviews. I didn't like the fact that the only things I got were those negative reviews while some other author who had shit plot, shit character and world development got positive reviews and a lot of patreons, because he wrote smut. I tried it, I really did. But I couldn't give a good smut FanFic. So I continued. Here's an ultimatum if u don't like it, don't read. But just because u don't get smut and other shits that u expect don't leave negative reviews or hatred comments. If it is ur personal preference please just state that. When u say it is shit or trash, ppl believe it. Regardless of how it can be personal dislikes or not.so that's it
And about the 2 announcements.
1. I am working on a new FanFic. The boys one, I am coming to an end, so the new FanFic I thought is Final Destination. Still I would post it after I finish the boys one. In a few days. So give support there. Obviously patreons would get the first view and all.
The second announcement is that, I have officially published a crime thriller novel. It is out in Amazon. Kindle unlimited readers can read it. And leave reviews. If possible. It isn't too big. Just around 10 chaps. It is part 1 of a crime thriller series. Here is the blurb just so u could get interest. Not the official, just writing it.
So the story is about a cop, mainly from his pov. His city is plagued by a serial killer who kills people and leave behind memes or other funny quotes at the crime scene. The cop has to work his way from the depths of hell that his life and the killer weaves around him. Relationship breaks, people die. His loved ones in danger. And all that shit. U would see gore too.
Name of the series is- Trace Evidence.
Name of the book is- Meme Killer
Author's name- Akhil Pillai.
I would leave the link in my comments. If possible support it.
Thank you.
--------
His punch connected.
I flew straight through a stack of metal crates, crumpling them like tissue paper. My duplicate shattered into dust beside me.
Pain exploded in my ribs.
I hit the ground hard. I Coughed up blood.
Okay. Okay. That hurt.
But—
My fingers tightened. The power of the gods buzzed in my veins.
I grinned.
A-Train took a step forward. "The fuck are you supposed to be?"
I rose to my feet, wiping the blood from my mouth. Lightning crackled at my fingertips.
"You ever hear of Thor, dumbass?"
His eyes widened—
And then I threw a bolt of lightning straight into his chest.
Frenchie ducked behind a crate. "Holy fuck! Holy fuck! What is happening?!"
Hughie screamed. "WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!"
Butcher? He just watched.
The warehouse lit up like a goddamn storm.
A-Train convulsed, screaming as blue electricity ripped through his body. His suit burned. His skin smoked.
Then—BOOM.
He slammed into the far wall, twitching violently.
I rolled my shoulders. Lightning still hummed in my blood.
I turned to Butcher, who had both hands on his gun.
He met my gaze. His jaw tightened.
"You got a lot of explaining to do, mate."
I grinned. "Do I?"
Silence.
Then—
A-Train wheezed. "You… motherfucker…"
I stepped over to him.
He reached for his earpiece.
I stomped on his wrist.
He screamed.
Butcher didn't stop me.
Hughie froze.
Frenchie lit a cigarette. "Well. This is escalating quickly."
I crouched next to A-Train, tilting my head.
"Tell me," I said. "How much faster do you think you can run… without legs?"
His eyes went wide.
And for the first time… A-Train looked scared.