HIGH AND DRY  🕷️  ───  I.
BAD IDEA, RIGHT ?

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The lights in the office were dim, flickering sporadically and casting shadows across the cluttered desks and faded linoleum floor. Despite the narrow space and the sagging ceiling tiles, it felt alive in a way that Vought Tower never did — filled with the distinct presence of people who fought for survival every single day. It was dirty, cramped, and loud with the sounds of restless feet and nervous breaths.

Liv Santos stood in the middle of it all, arms crossed and jaw set, her posture radiating the kind of tension that came from carrying a lifetime's worth of anger. Around her, The Boys watched with wary eyes.

"Alright," Butcher drawled, arms crossed as he leaned back against a filing cabinet, his tone laced with skepticism and barely concealed contempt. "What's this then? You reckon you can waltz in here, another bloody Supe, and expect us to roll out the red carpet?"

Liv's fingers flexed by her sides, her nails biting into her palms. She knew she'd have to win them over, but Butcher's open disdain was testing her patience. Her eyes flicked over the room, taking in each of them in turn — each, it seemed, having their own varied response to her presence.

Annie — Starlight, as Liv knew her from the tabloids — watched her with a cautious empathy, her arms crossed, brow creased with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. Kimiko lingered nearby, a quiet, watchful presence. Liv couldn't help but notice the faint scars that traced her arms and neck, markers of a history that seemed carved into her skin.

Then there was Hughie, who shifted awkwardly, clearly uncertain about this entire encounter. But it was the man standing at the back, the one with dark curls and a lean frame, who held her attention the longest.

Frenchie looked different from the photos she'd seen. His hair, wild and thick, framed his face, falling slightly over his dark eyes. A faint scruff shadowed his jaw, and beneath the soft but intense gaze, she could see the faintest hints of exhaustion etched into his features — the kind that no amount of sleep could cure. But despite that, he had a natural charm, a warmth that radiated even in his quiet stance. Tattoos snaked up his forearms and disappeared beneath his worn leather jacket, hints of ink peeking out from the collar of his faded t-shirt. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, just shy of amused, as if he'd found something interesting in the fact that she was standing there, of all places.

He raised an eyebrow as he caught her looking at him, and his mouth curved into a slightly broader smile. There was something disarming about it, something that took her by surprise.

"Ah, Butcher," he drawled, voice tinged with that distinct French accent, casual and unhurried. "Maybe we let her say her piece, yes? After all, we are not so picky with our allies these days."

Butcher scowled. "We're not allies, Frenchie, so don't get all sentimental on me." He turned back to Liv, the suspicion in his gaze deepening. "You said you've got a reason to be here. So spit it out."

Liv's jaw clenched as she forced herself to remain calm. She knew Butcher's type: men who didn't care for words, who'd been burned enough times to expect the worst of everyone — especially someone like her.

"My mother," she said, her voice steady but tight, "worked at Vought. She was a lead scientist. She developed Compound V."

A hush fell over the room. MM's brow furrowed as he exchanged a glance with Annie, who looked almost stricken by the revelation. Hughie shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly unsure of what to say. Kimiko's expression didn't change, but her eyes sharpened, studying Liv with a new intensity.

But it was Butcher's reaction she noticed most — the slight narrowing of his gaze, the tensing of his jaw. "So what, you're Vought royalty?" he sneered, crossing his arms tighter.

Liv shot him a glare. "Hardly. My mother actually believed in regulation," she said sharply. "She thought Compound V could be dangerous, and she wasn't afraid to speak up about it. She wanted... limits."

Butcher let out a harsh laugh, though there was no humor in it. "And I'm guessing that didn't sit too well with your lot."

"It didn't sit well with Homelander," she replied, feeling the bitterness rise like bile in her throat. "He... took care of it himself. Made sure no one else would dare question them again."

Frenchie's smile faded, his eyes darkening as he leaned forward, his interest piqued. He exchanged a quick glance with Kimiko, a flicker of understanding passing between them. He knew too well what it felt like to lose someone — and what kind of rage that loss could create.

Liv hesitated, her heart pounding as she dredged up the memory. She hadn't spoken about it in years, hadn't wanted to relive the horror of it. But if she was going to convince them, they needed to know. "He... he didn't just kill her," she said quietly. "He wanted to make an example out of her."

The air in the room seemed to thicken, everyone now listening with rapt, horrified attention. Frenchie's gaze softened, his eyes catching hers with a look that was almost tender, an unspoken invitation to continue. She felt herself drawn in by that silent understanding, the way he seemed to promise that whatever she said, he'd listen without judgment.

"He used his laser vision," she went on, her voice unsteady. "But not to kill her right away. He... cut into her, just enough to make sure she'd suffer. She was... barely breathing by the end." Her voice broke slightly, but she forced herself to continue. "And he watched her. He just stood there and watched her die, smiling the entire time."

A shiver ran through the room. Even Butcher seemed momentarily speechless, his usual cocky demeanor fading as the weight of her words sank in.

Annie let out a shaky breath, looking down at her feet as she processed what Liv had just shared. "I... I had no idea they were capable of something like that," she murmured, her voice laced with horror.

"They are," Liv replied bitterly, her gaze hardening. "And I want him to pay for it. I want him to feel every bit of pain he's inflicted, on her and on everyone else he's ever hurt."

Butcher finally regained his composure, his expression turning cold and guarded once more. "So, you're here lookin' for revenge," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Join the club, sweetheart. Doesn't mean I trust you any more than I trust the rest of those Supes."

Liv's eyes flashed, and she took a step forward, her fists clenched. "I don't need your trust, Butcher. I'm not here for you. I'm here for him."

Butcher leaned in, his sneer widening. "Then tell me why we shouldn't just let you walk out of here and go after him yourself, hmm? Why should we even consider letting you stick around?"

Before Liv could respond, Frenchie cut in, his tone light but his eyes intense. "Maybe because she could be useful?" he suggested, flashing Butcher a pointed look. "If she knows Vought, knows their secrets... could be, how you say, an advantage, no?"

Butcher glared at him. "Since when did you get all soft on Supes, Frenchie?"

Frenchie just shrugged, his smile reappearing as he met Liv's gaze. "Maybe I have a weakness for people who hate Homelander as much as we do." His smile softened, and for a moment, she saw something in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat — a kindness that felt both unexpected and strangely comforting. "Besides, look at her. She's angry, and anger makes for... good company."

Liv managed a slight smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Glad to know I'm not the only one."

Kimiko, who'd been silent up until now, took a step forward, her gaze steady as she looked Liv up and down. There was something in her eyes, a deep understanding and shared pain that needed no words. She reached out, touching her own chest, and then extended her hand toward Liv, as if to say, I get it.

Liv felt an unexpected lump form in her throat, but she managed a nod, silently acknowledging the gesture. These people... they were different. Wounded, wary, but in a way that felt genuine, raw. She'd spent so long surrounded by people who wore masks, who hid their intentions behind polished smiles and false promises. But here, in this grimy, low-lit office, she felt more at home than she had in years.

Butcher huffed, clearly annoyed but slightly resigned. "Alright, fine. But make no mistake, Santos — one wrong move, and I'll put you down myself. Don't think I won't."

Liv squared her shoulders and met Butcher's unyielding gaze, a flicker of defiance flashing in her eyes. "You don't scare me, Butcher," she replied, voice low and calm. "I know exactly who I'm dealing with here. And if anyone's going to end up regretting this... it won't be me."

Butcher held her gaze, his lip curling slightly in irritation, but he didn't respond. The tension between them was thick enough to cut through, and for a moment, it seemed like things might boil over.

But then Frenchie, ever the peacemaker, stepped between them with a casual, almost disarming laugh. He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Ah, come on, people — we're all on the same side here, no? No need to be at each other's throats just yet."

Frenchie's grin, playful and effortlessly charming, broke some of the tension, and Liv found herself almost smiling in response. He had a strange way about him — a lightness that felt like a balm in the oppressive room. His eyes met hers, and she could see something new there, a flicker of intrigue and... something else. Admiration, maybe.

She looked away, feeling her cheeks heat slightly, though she tried to play it off. This wasn't the time or place for distractions.

"Right, then," MM interjected, his steady voice cutting through the tension. He stepped forward, looking Liv up and down with a practical, almost military assessment. "If you're really serious about going after Homelander, we'll need to know what you bring to the table. We're not in the business of taking in strays."

Liv turned to face MM, nodding respectfully. "I can understand that. And I didn't come here empty-handed." She raised her hand and, with a slight flick of her fingers, one of the mugs on the cluttered desk lifted off and floated midair, hovering effortlessly before her. She kept her eyes trained on MM, watching his reaction carefully.

Annie's eyes widened, watching as the mug floated before them. "You're... telekinetic?"

Liv nodded, dropping the mug lightly back onto the desk. "Yeah. It's nothing flashy, not like the heat vision or super strength, but... I can move things. Control objects."

"But what about people?" Hughie asked, looking wary but fascinated. "Can you...?"

"I can," Liv answered, her tone clipped but controlled. "If I want to, I can throw them across the room, or hold them still. I could probably snap a neck or two if I really tried." She looked directly at Butcher, letting the weight of her words sink in. "But that's not why I'm here."

Butcher's expression was impassive, but there was something simmering behind his eyes — a grudging respect, perhaps, though he'd never admit it. "Well, ain't that convenient," he muttered.

Frenchie, however, looked downright impressed. "Now that's a proper power," he said, his voice soft, as though he were talking about a fine piece of art. His dark eyes lit up as he studied her, his gaze lingering just a moment too long. "Could be very useful in our line of work."

Liv felt her cheeks heat under his scrutiny. It was rare, she realized, to have anyone look at her like this — not with suspicion, not with fear, but with genuine curiosity and respect. There was something exhilarating, almost thrilling, in the way he seemed to see her, really see her.

"Useful, yeah," Butcher grunted, bringing them all back to the matter at hand. "But let's not forget what she is. Supes don't exactly have the best track record with loyalty."

"Maybe she's different," Kimiko signed, her movements slow and deliberate. She glanced at Frenchie, and he nodded, interpreting for the rest. "Maybe she has more reason to hate him than we do."

Butcher snorted, clearly unmoved. But MM, who'd been watching Kimiko's response, looked at Liv with a thoughtful expression.

"So you want revenge," he said, his tone less accusatory than Butcher's. "That's something we can understand. But this isn't just about taking him down — it's about making him pay, and making sure he stays down. You willing to see it through?"

Liv took a steadying breath, the raw hatred flaring in her chest once more. "I've been waiting for this for years. If I have to go to hell and back to see him dead, I'll do it."

There was a brief, charged silence as her words hung in the air. MM nodded slowly, as though something had clicked in his mind. "Alright. Then we'll see if you can keep up."

A grin tugged at Frenchie's lips, and he gave Liv a quick nod, as if to welcome her into their strange, mismatched team. "You're in for quite a ride, my friend," he murmured, that same gleam of intrigue in his gaze. "We're not exactly the... easiest bunch to work with."

Liv managed a small smile, meeting his gaze directly. "Trust me, I've seen worse."

Butcher rolled his eyes. "Right, enough with the bloody bonding. We've got work to do, so don't get comfortable." His tone was sharp, but it lacked his earlier edge; there was a sense that he was, however reluctantly, accepting her presence.

As Butcher turned to pull out a dusty old map of Vought Tower from one of the cabinets, Frenchie leaned in closer to Liv, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't mind him too much. He's got the heart of a kitten under all that grumpy British charm."

Liv smirked, whispering back, "I'll believe that when I see it."

Frenchie chuckled, his gaze warm and inviting. "I'll let you know if he ever shows it, then. But, until then..." He paused, and there was something about the way he looked at her — something that felt far more intense than simple camaraderie. "Welcome to the madness, Liv Santos. You'll fit right in."

Liv felt a flutter in her stomach, a mix of anticipation and something deeper, something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in a long time. She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just stepped into something far bigger than herself, something both dangerous and oddly comforting.

Butcher's voice broke her out of her thoughts. "Oi, Frenchie, stop flirtin' with the new girl and get over here. We've got a bloody Supe to kill."

Frenchie winked at Liv before stepping back, hands raised in a mock gesture of innocence. "Yes, yes, boss, I'm coming." But as he walked over, he threw one last glance her way, a look that lingered with an unmistakable sense of promise.

Annie shot Liv a reassuring smile, while Hughie awkwardly nodded as if to say, Welcome aboard. MM offered a brief, accepting nod, and even Kimiko gave her a faint, encouraging smile.

As Liv settled into the room, the resentment and mistrust still lingering but softened by a newfound purpose, she realized she might just have found the allies she'd been searching for — strange, broken, and deadly as they were.

And, standing there with her new teammates, she vowed to herself that this was only the beginning.

━━━━━ author's note !
first chapter out !! finally a proper introduction to our main character, i gotta admit at first she seems like a brat but with time you'll know her. CAN WE TALK ABOUT FRENCHIE??? boy is already simping HARD !!
let me know what you think and give a little star 🌟 if you like! take care of yourself and see you in a few days !!!