[Butcher brings his associate, Frenchie, along with Hughie to an abandoned restaurant, where they imprison Translucent]
What d'you think, Frenchie?
You just dropped the Moby fucking Dick of problems on my plate. That's what I think, okay? He can re-order the carbon on his skin into metamaterial. It's hard as diamonds. It's nearly impossible to penetrate.
Alright, how 'bout we suffocate him?
Some Dominicans already tried this, way back in '07.
And what happened?
They're all fucking dead. That's what happened.
Alright, then, fuck it. Electrocution. We'll just increase the amps.
You already hit him with enough to drop a water buffalo, and look. Might knock him out. Doesn't seem to kill him, huh? No. We need to pierce the skin somehow.
Well, how the hell are we gonna do that?
I don't know.
You're gonna kill him?
[pause; turns and stares at Hughie] We didn't bring him here for a fuckin' Happy Meal.
I don't–I thought we'd question him or something. I don't know, you get a–you get a hold of someone this big–
At Gitmo, we had to waterboard Khalid Sheikh Mohammed 183 times over six months to get him to talk just once. Now, we ain't got six months. I doubt we've even got six hours.
There are so many crazy things about what you just said. But right now, you're talking about randomly killing one of the most famous men on the planet. A goddamn national treasure. I mean… people tend to notice that kinda thing.
And if we let him go, what do you think The Seven will do to us? Hmm? You can't get A-Train if you're a greasy smear on the pavement.
I'm not a murderer.
That's alright. I am.
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