For about five minutes, Jason sat in his van, staring at his phone. He had no idea what the hell he could do. Sure, he could rob a bank. There was money in that, but would Valkyrie be happy with a few bank robberies, which, if they went properly, Butcher would never really be at risk? The idea of deliberately screwing up the plan to put a 12-year-old in harms way really didn't sit right. What the hell could he do that would bring in a good payday, and be something big. Important. And, well. Preferably didn't involve killing any civilians.

The best bet was to target labs. High-security ones, making synthetic drugs, high-end tech and equipment. Steal prototypes, production samples, files. No matter what it was, it was bound to either be useful for the future, or have a good value; to, at least, the people they'd stolen it from, if not their competitors.

Ugh. This was terrible. You don't just spring a job at the last minute. You plan them out. You figure out the patterns, the layout, the best time to make the hit to get the most payout...

On the plus side, he did have an asset he lacked before. While on his drunken rout at the Don's place, during the leadup to the incident with SwiftBlade, he'd made a few friends, acquired a few phone numbers... and acquired access to a sort-of message board where bounties like the one he'd just collected resided. On people, yes. Every major government figure had one, and there was even a nutjob offering 1,000$ a head for confirmed cop kills. The titan Spike had the highest, at a million; but... there were other bounties.

Someone had placed a bounty on, not killing, but crippling to keep out of the game, a quarterback for a major NFL team before the game in six days. Either the one behind the bounty was a huge fan of the opposition, or was betting big and wanted to make sure he came out ahead.

There were actually a few in there like this; but that 100,000$ bounty would be a good start. Not only was he a smug, rich, asshole. But this David Lebowski character had just gotten out of a 1-year stint in jail for running a sort of homeless fight-club where he and his rich buddies would pit people off the street against each other for cash; often leaving some of the victims dead or permanently maimed.

So. He could take six days to plan it out. Break this asshole's legs. Actually... have Butch break this asshole's legs, while Jason kept watch and took out security... and poof. Simple. Even better, the observation would give him time to get a good handle on Butcher, and look into a more sophisticated job.. the sort that would need multiple people.

When Butch stepped out of the nearby barn, headed towards the van, Jason did a double-take. The boy was carrying along what looked to be a butcher knife the size of a door. The damn thing must weigh hundreds of pounds, and the kid was swinging it around like it was nothing, as he approached the window. Jason gave a long sigh, as he rolled it down.

"Alright, kid. Here's the deal. We're gonna take a bit of a small-scale job. Something relatively simple and fun... but that will let me get a feel for how you handle things. Minimal opposition; maybe a dozen security guards at most. The biggest challenge will be getting in and out without getting caught and having to run from the cops all the way out of town."

Butch stopped, staring at him for a moment. "But... Titanslayer... I wanna be in the big leagues! I want to go fight.. Spike! You killed a Titan, you can do it again, right?"

Jason sighed, shaking his head. "Buddy. Your mom and Spike, if they fought... it would wreck the whole world. If you ever get strong enough to take on Spike... same difference. Also, its Eyeball. Titanslayer is what the news called me after I took out Lightning. Tell you what. You ever heard of David Lebowski?"

Butch set his blade on the gravel parking lot for a moment. "Huh... Oh, yeah! That quarterback, the one down in texas. The asshole who did all of those videos online of the people fighting in that little arena thing."

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"Yup. Somebody put a 100 grand bounty on breaking him bad enough not to kill him, but to keep him out of the game. He lives in a mansion outside Dallas, has a whole security team, cameras everywhere, and if you drag your ass doing the job... the Rangers will be on your ass."

Butch shrugged. "Who cares about the Rangers? Aren't they baseliners?"

"...Kid. I used to be a baseliner. Honestly, I think the term is a bit silly. I wasn't born a meta like you. And before I got my own little trick, I killed probably a dozen or so metas. And the Rangers? Those guys have the gear and training to be about as good as I was then. Yes, I could take one out. Probably a whole squad. But right now, without armor, training, and alot of luck... I don't think you could take one."

Butch started glowering down at Jason. "Really. You think you're so much better than me, cause you killed Lightning. I thought you were cool. Some kinda badass who'd take me on like.. a trip to go steal shit from an army base or something. Kill some big-name meta. And you wanna drag me off on some little trip to texas to what... break some normie idiot? Anybody could do that."

Jason gave a long-suffering sigh, and climbed out of the van. "I think we need to teach you something. Pick up that big blade of yours, and walk over there."

He stepped off of the gravel parking area, and slid his combat knife out of its sheath in his boot. He stretched for a moment, popping his neck, making sure his muscles were good and warmed up after the long drive from Vegas. "There we go. Now. This is an KA-BAR combat knife." He holds it up in the light. "Weighs not a whole lot. Extremely sharp. Dangerous to mid-grade metas like you, and to normies, but not to people like your mom. On you... it probably won't kill you unless I jam it in your eye. But it can seriously hurt you. If you genuinely think you can handle whatever gets thrown at you, show me. Take that giant slab of metal of yours, and hit me with it."

The blade had a couple of dents in its edge. Clearly the boy had used it to strike a rock or a barricade somewhere. "I'm probably more dangerous than any 'normie' you'll run into. So if you can take me out, just hit me once, then you're ready for the big leagues."

The boy looked down at the dirt... at his massive blade... and at Jason's tiny knife. He saw the swing before it was made.. and praying that Valkyrie wouldn't kill him for this, easily stepped under the swing... and dragged the tip of his knife along Butch's forearm; scratching the skin painfully, just barely drawing blood.

When Butch shrieked in pain and stepped back before swinging again, Jason stepped in closer; and jammed the knife into the back of Butch's hand; right between the bones, pressing it through to briefly smack into the handle of the giant butcher knife before he backed off; leaving some real blood dripping down his hand as Butch shrieked, unintentionally tossing the blade... which slammed into, and then through, a fencepost.

Jason stepped back; holding the knife pointed at the ground, meeting Butch's gaze. "I'm gonna be honest here. A ranger wouldn't be using a knife. He would've already put six bullets into your face and you'd be dead. But if he'd lost his gun? He could still play with you, just like this."

Butch looked down at his hand; at Jason's tiny knife... and then at the fence he'd just destroyed with his blade. "...Could you really kill me with that knife?"

"Your mama would make me wish I'd never been born if I did. But put me in a room with five of you and this knife, and I'll be the only one that steps out alive."

A long sigh. "Man. I kinda screwed that up there. What would you have done if you were me?"

Jason wiped the knife off in the dirt before sheathing it. "Well, I'd have picked a smaller, lighter blade until I could swing it faster... and then I'd put it down and pick up a gun. Honestly, as big and strong as you are, if I were you I'd wear the kind of armor they put on a Humvee... and carry the kind of gun that they don't normally consider man-portable. You go in like that, and you could take on a few squads of rangers before you went down. I also wouldn't be bitching at and trying to take on the guy I called Titanslayer a few minutes ago."

Butch glances back at the house. Valkyrie and a few of the men were watching; had probably seen the whole thing. "Mom doesn't like using guns. Thinks they're too... weak. Loud."

"Your mom turned pretty much invulnerable when she was like... 19? 17? You might get there someday... and when you can, maybe you can throw a rock so hard it makes a bullet look like a nerf dart. But you won't be able to throw five hundred rocks in a minute, and do it so you can take out a few cars without destroying the building behind them."

After another minute of staring at the house, the blade, and his mom, he turned back to Jason. "...Sorry. Can I... go with you to texas? It... sounds like a fun start."

Jason shakes his head. "Hop on in the van. The fun doesn't start for a few days. First... you gotta watch. Wait. And learn."

At first, Butch seemed on the verge of rebellion. Waiting? Learning? But he glanced back at his mom... at the house... and then climbed into the van without another word.