Paul Doesn’t Die.

All Fathers Give Me Strength.

The Dwarf :
You understand, Boy?
You're about to take the full force of A Star.
It'll KILL You.


Only if I Die.

The Dwarf :
Well… Yes.... That's what 

"Killing You", means.

When Paul get killed, 

he doesn't die because... 

The Messiah is all The Humanity, 

can get enlightened. 

In The End, His Mind is 

the mind of every person. 

He's a Plural Being :

“I am The Others.”

“The Others are Me.”

And then, if the whole humanity get enlightened... The Earth changed. 

The Planet of Sand... start to grow plant, animals, be like a paradise. 

Dune is a Messiah of The Planets 

because is a planet with Consciousness. 

With the same consciousness of Paul. 

And The Planet go to The Universe... to illuminate the other planets. 

I changed The End of The Book, evidently! 

In the book, it's a continuation. 

The Planet never changed. 

Is not awake, with a Cosmic Consciousness. 

It's not a Messiah, The Planet. 

I did that. It's different. 

It was My Dune. 

When you make a picture, 

you must not respect The Novel. 

It's like you get married, no? 

You go with the wife, white, 

the woman is white... 

you take the woman, 

if you respect the woman, 

you will never have Child. 

You need to open The Costume and to... To rape The Bride. 

And then you will have Your Picture. 

I was raping Frank Herbert, raping, like this! 

But with Love, with Love. 

And then I came with that. 

It was such a beautiful object. 

So well done and at the time, 

there were no photocopies. 

It was just photos of each drawing. In color... so well done... with so much detail about the costumes, 

about the techniques used. 

Every studio have 

one book like this. 

Every studio. 

Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Universal, 

everything, all them... 

Michel Seydoux give a book like that. 

This approach was chosen precisely because... 

I was thinking they might have a certain distrust of Jodorowsky. 

But since we were showing the camera angles, 

since we explained each scene... 

the way we wanted to film it... 

they should have been relieved. 

But They weren't. 

It wasn't enough. 

In Los Angeles, I wasn't optimistic. 

The thing is that sometimes The French and The Americans... 

have difficult relationships, you know. Well, we have had. 

We were almost at the finish line,

 but we had to find the last $5 million. 

The film cost $15 million. 

Well, we estimated it as $15... 

We had been invited to Walt Disney studios by the chairman of the board. 

He looked through the project and said: 

"This is a wonderful project...

but it is like The Concorde. 

It's an exceptional plane, but over here, never!" 

And there I said to myself 

that we were going to face a lot of problems. 

They always received us in a very friendly way... 

but it was always the same answer. 

When we would give them The Book, they were very impressed. 

They had never seen anything like it. 

Each time, they would tell us, 

"It's superb. It's very well-constructed.

You've solved the technical problems of those special effects. 

It's economically reasonable. 

But we don't get 

Your Director." 

Hollywood did not visualize science fiction that way. 

It was in 2001: A Space Odyssey, or in small B movies. 

But a huge movie, that would cost millions of dollars with all the effects. 

They did not conceive of that. 

Maybe it was a bit long as well. 

Maybe the film was a bit too long. 

They asked me to make a picture one hour and a half, for the theaters. 

And myself, 

"No, why the time?

I will make a picture of 12 hours! 

Or 2O hours!” 

The totally outrageous side of Jodorowsky, 

especially after The Holy Mountain and El Topo

did not give them faith that he could lead this very ambitious project. 

Because $15 million in the middle of the '70s was a lot of money. 

And that was Their Answer, 

even though they found everything else to be perfect. 

Everything was Great, 

except The Director. 

You have to be like A Poet. 

Your Movie must be just as 

You Think of It and just as You Want It. 

Do not take comments to change this or that 

from this person or the other. No! 

The Movie has to be just 

Like I Dream It. 

The Picture need to be exactly as I am dreaming the picture. Is a dream. Don't change my dream. This system make of us slaves. Without dignity. Without depth. With a devil in our pocket. This incredible money are in the pocket. This money. This shit. This nothing. This paper who have nothing inside. Movies have heart. Have mind. Have power. Have ambition. I wanted to do something like that. Why not? Very disappointed. Very disappointed because we all believed in it. I believed in it. Now, this is my take on it... but I think he didn't feel like... doing something else after such a project... which was the project of his life, I believe. That's my feeling. 

I think that the humiliation that Alejandro Jodorowsky suffered, in not having been chosen, in having been eliminated for being too original, being too surrealistic…

that is a permanent injury. 

I think that Jodorowsky 

carries that in his heart for life. 

I was convinced that it would be something Great. 

But then Dino De Laurentiis' daughter came along 

and took the project away from us... 

and gave it to David Lynch. 

And when I heard that 

David Lynch will direct that... 

I have a pain because 

I admire David Lynch. He can do it! 

He is the only one in this moment who can do it and he will do it! 

I suffer because was My Dream. 

Another person will do that... 

maybe better than me. 

And then when the picture, they will show the picture here... 

I say I will not go to see that 

because I will die. 

And My Sons say, 

"No, We are Warriors. 

You need to come and to see that." 

And then they take me, like an ill person 

I came to the theater. Even I think I will cry. 

And I start to see the picture...

and step by step, 

step by step, 

step by step... 

I became happy because 

the picture was awful! 

Is a failure! 

Well, it's a human reaction, no? 

Is not beautiful, 

but I have that reaction. 

I say, "Is not possible. Is not David Lynch because he is a big artist." 

Is The Producer who did that. 

“I've never seen the movie 

and I never will.”

From this supposed failure, 

come a lot of creation. 

In The Life, thing come, you say "YES." 

Thing go away, you say "YES." 

We don't do Dune? “YES!”

That is, “YES, We Don't Do it!”

And then so what? And then so what? Dune is in the world like a dream, but dreams change the world also. 

Dune was…. Dune is Like Paul —

It’s Throat was Cut,

But it Didn’t DIE.

I think it was a guide. A guide for some. In any case, I am convinced that our storyboard... made the rounds in the halls of Hollywood. I can't imagine that isn't the case. It pleases me to imagine that. You always have to see the positive. Giger. He make the monster of Alien. Why he make the monster of Alien? Because Dan O'Bannon. O'Bannon create Alien. They take Moebius, they take Giger, Foss. And Hollywood start to use my group. Was very fantastic. And then Moebius say to me, 

"What you will do? You will die?" 

No, I will not die. For me to fail is only to change the way. If we don't do that... the Dune we was doing is... The roots are the Dune of Herbert. But this Dune is us. Is the optical. Is a creation. And then, I will use everything I put in Dune to make comics. I say to Moebius, "Why we don't do a comic?" And I start to dictate The Inca/. A lot of images that are in here are in here. And then I find an Argentine, a Spanish, Juan Gimenez. And there I make all the spaceship I design for Dune are in The Metabarons. Even the Duke Leto. I made him castrated by a bull... and we find the sorcerer who will take a drop of his blood... in order to make the child. I did it here, is here, like I was shooting! I did it. I start with Dune, but I go farther, no? Farther. I continue and I did it, my work. I think Dune will be fantastic if somebody take this script... even if I am not alive... and do a picture in animation. 

Now is possible. I can die, 

They can do My Picture. 

I have 84 years, but I am still creating. I am not [ groaning Old Man-noises ]

All my life I create, and is more and more and more.

 The Mind is like A Universe. 

It's constantly expanding. 

Like The Universe, exactly like The Universe, open the mind. The opening of the mind is every day, is open. 

That was this picture. 

Open the mind of all the persons who worked there. From the producer to the artists. From the workers, for every one was an opening of the mind, this work. 

Was ambitious, but not too. 

Was ambitious. 

Myself, I have the ambition 

to live 300 years. 

I will not live 300 years. 

Maybe I will live one year more. 

But I have the ambition. 

Why you will not have Ambition? Why? 

Have The Greatest Ambition Possible. 

You want to be Immortal? 

Fight to be Immortal. Do it. 

You want to make the most fantastic art of movie? Try. 

If you fail, is not important. 

We need to Try. 

Dreams are Messages 

from The Deep. 

My Planet Arrakis is so beautiful when The Sun is low. 

Rolling over The Sands, 

you can see Spice in The Air. 

At nightfall, 

the Spice harvesters land. 

The Outsiders race against time 

to avoid The Heat of The Day. 

They ravage Our Lands in front of Our Eyes. 

Their Cruelty to My People 

is all I've known. 

These Outsiders, The Harkonnens, came long before I was born. 

By controlling the Spice Production they became obscenely rich. 

Richer than The Emperor himself. 

Our Warriors couldn't free Arrakis 

from The Harkonnens, but one day, 

by Imperial Decree, They were gone. 

Why did The Emperor 

choose This Path? 

And who will Our Next 

Oppressors be? 

The Duke Paul

The Duke Paul

of House Atreides of Caledan

ATREIDES!

ATREIDES!

ATREIDES!

ATREIDES!

ATREIDES!

 

"In MY Version, The Duke Leto... he is a castrato --- castrated. 

[ from Bull-Fighting, having been gored by The Beast of The Labyrinth of The King Minos. ] ​

And Then -- 

HOW He Will Do, A Son?

And Then, His Wife...

a MARVELOUS Woman, 

a WISE Woman... 

and The Guy have A Love, A Cosmic Love when He see This Woman. 

And how He will make A Child? 

And she take a drop of His Blood... 

and She CHANGE The Blood into Semen... 

and then we see The Drop of Blood going inside The Vagina, The Uterus... 

and we will follow The Blood... 

The Blood coming and go inside The Ovum and explodes there. 

She get pregnant with 

A Drop of Blood. 

That's What I Did. 

What will have if You are NOT The Son of a Sexual Pleasure, but of A SPIRITUAL Pleasure? 

And from This Spiritual Love, 

He Will create PAUL. 

Paul was A Young Boy... 

but is not 

A NORMAL Boy. 

Was A Mutant. 

With A Big Soul and Strength. 

Where I will find That Boy....? 

My Son. 

El Topo : 

"Today You are 7 Years Old -- 

Now You are A Man  : 

Bury Your First Toy 

and Your Mother's Picture." 

I work with him in El Topo, 

now he have 12 year old. 

I say, "You Will make Paul, 

but You need to prepare as A Warrior." 

 

Brontis Jodorowsky :

"So he said one day, we're going to make Dune, and you're going to play The Part of Paul, and....

You're Going to Have to Prepare."

I prepare My Son, to do The Role exactly as The Duke Leto prepare His Son. 

 

Brontis Jodorowsky :

So here, he is going to have to learn Karate, and make acrobatics, and....

Your Mind has to develop, a LOT --

You know, he wanted me to 

BE The Character.

 

I find A Teacher for Him. 

I have A Very STRONG person... 

Jean-Pierre Vignau. 

Jean-Pierre : 

"When We started, He was 12. 

There I trained Him in Karate, Karate Jujitsu, Japanese style. 

That's all the fist-foot techniques, joint locks, floor pins, standing pins,  

a combination of Karate, Judo, Aikido and Atemi-Jitsu."

He learn How to Fight with : 

His Hands; with Knife; 

with Swords -- 

He learn ALL that. 

And he was READY to do Paul 

as A Real "Paul." 

Jean-Pierre :

"I trained Brontis six hours a day, seven days a week for two years. "

 

Brontis Jodorowsky :

 That was PAINFUL, 

and Jean-Pierre, he has No Mercy. 

No, really -- we worked to get ahead, no mercy.

And all the person say to me, 

"But What You Did?

But WHY You are Trying 

to Change The Mind of [A] Child and to make 

A Superior Person?" 

I say, "No, I was only awakening The Creativity." 

I open His Mind. 

That's What I Was Doing. 

I don't know if I change His Life..... 

NOW, I am Thinking, 

"Why I DID That? Sacrifice My Son." 

But in that time, I say, "If I Need to Cut My Arms [off] in order to make That Picture, I Will Cut My Arms -- I Will DO It.”

I was believing that to make A Picture, who will Give A Mutation to The Young Minds... was Sacred. 

You NEED to Sacrifice Yourself. 

I was even ready to die doing that.

“ Gerard Way, the lead singer of the band My Chemical Romance, was a very different kind of entertainer, a New Jersey art-punk rocker who’d been an intern at Vertigo back in the days of The Invisibles and a fan of my Doom Patrol run, although we’d never crossed paths.

In mid-2006, with Final Crisis on my mind, I caught the video for his band’s song “Welcome to the Black Parade,” a searing slice of punk psychedelia I was primed to like anyway. What really made me sit up were the outfits the band was wearing.

 

  Dressed in black-and-white marching band uniforms as they led a procession of sexy walking dead through a bombed-out city, My Chemical Romance looked like a glamorous postmortem Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. They had fused the images of two opposites — the tough soldier and the frail emo kid — to create an image of what was to come. Nor was the sound morbid or dark; it was triumphal, chiming, imperial rock. The new psychedelia would learn to make friends with Darkness. It would come from the Goth and alternative frontiers of the last twenty years into the mainstream, laughing at cancer as it put a beat to the Dance of the Dead and began to have fun again, however dark that fun might seem to grown-ups.

 

  That fall, I listened to The Black Parade over and over and over again, to inspire cosmic mortuary scenes for Final Crisis and Batman’s mental breakdown. MCR had shown me a picture of the new superhero, posttraumatic, postwar, the hero with nothing left to believe in. The supersoldier was home from the front, jumping every time a car backfired, staring at his hands.

 

  Neil Gaiman put me in touch with Gerard, and we met in Glasgow before a gig, forming an instant connection. He led a new young generation of musicians who had grown up with superhero comics and had no qualms about saying so. He walked the walk too, with Umbrella Academy, his own award-winning re-creation of the superhero formula with artist Gabriel Ba. It was a kaleidoscopic tour de force. There was no shaky start, no cramming of balloons with words (a common tyro error), and none of the familiar missteps that dogged so many other celebrity-fan forays into the comics biz. Umbrella Academy was the end result of years of reading and thinking about superheroes and science fiction: Funny, scary, cerebral, arty, and violent all at the same time, it harvested all the fruits of Gerard’s own “iconography tree.” The heroes of Umbrella Academy were a group of outsider kids who grew up to be the world’s greatest superheroes. It was the story of his band. It was my story too. It was a premonition of where we were all headed.

 

  These days, it’s no longer enough to be a star or even a superstar. Today even the most slender and ephemeral talents are routinely described as “legends.” There’s no need to slay ten-story sea beasts, endure complex and life-threatening quests or epic military campaigns: Simply release a couple of dodgy records or do some stand-up, and you too will be elevated to the ranks of the mythical King Arthur, heroic Lemminkainen, or mighty Odysseus. You too will become legend.

 

  With our superlatives and honorifics devalued so that star, legend, and genius will suffice as descriptors for any old cod with half a good idea he stole from someone else, what lies next on the upward trajectory of human self-regard from star to superstar to legend?  

 

Once upon a time, a star was an individual of exceptional sporting, musical, or acting talent. 

 

Then it became every child who could grip a crayon and scrawl a daisy for Mother’s Day. 

 

When we all became stars, stars became superstars to keep things straight, but they were swimming against the tide. In a time of Facebook and Twitter, where everyone has a fan page, when the concept of “genius” has been extended to include anyone who can produce a half-competent piece of art or writing, where is there left to go but all the way? 

 

We may as well crown ourselves kings of creation. Why not become superheroes? Supergods, in fact. Isn’t it what we’ve always known we’d have to do in the end? Nobody was ever going to come from the sky to save us. No Justice League; Just Us League.

 

  Back in 1940, Ma Hunkel, the Red Tornado, was the first attempt to depict a “real-life” superhero in comics. Not a spaceman from Krypton, not a billionaire playboy with a grudge, Ma had no powers except for her formidable washerwoman build. She wore a homemade costume to dish out local justice in the stairwells and alleyways of the Lower East Side in some aboriginal memory of the early DC universe.

 

  She was joined by characters like Wildcat, the Black Canary, the Mighty Atom, the Sandman, and other tough but good-hearted vigilante crime fighters who took to the mean streets in nothing but their underwear. They had no special powers, just fists, and an attitude — at best, a gun that shot darts or gas or bees.

 

  Seventy years after Ma Hunkel, sixteen-year-old Dave Lizewski, the hero of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr.’s Kick-Ass, asked the question “WHY DOES EVERYONE WANT TO BE PARIS HILTON BUT NOBODY WANTS TO BE A SUPERHERO?” Leaving aside the cynical response that nobody in their right minds wanted to be Paris Hilton, Dave’s question had already been answered by a handful of brave souls, real people in the real world who dress up in capes and masks to patrol the streets and keep people safe. You can read all about them online if you type “real world superheroes” into a search engine. They even have their own registry, like Civil War veterans who fought on Iron Man’s side.

 

  The TV and film hopefuls, the half-baked actors, are easy to spot. But to the others, fierce behind homemade masks and hoods and helmets, the superhero’s calling is as important as religion, or at least as important as the youth cult demographic you conformed to at school. They are The Future.

 

I Know What The Bee Knows

“But you, Watson"—he stopped his work and took his old friend by the shoulders —"I've hardly seen you in the light yet. How have the years used you? You look the same blithe boy as ever."

"I feel twenty years younger, Holmes. I have seldom felt so happy as when I got your wire asking me to meet you at Harwich with the car. But you, Holmes—you have changed very little—save for that horrible goatee."

"These are the sacrifices one makes for one's country, Watson," said Holmes, pulling at his little tuft. "To-morrow it will be but a dreadful memory. With my hair cut and a few other superficial changes I shall no doubt reappear at Claridge's tomorrow as I was before this American stunt—I beg your pardon, Watson, my well of English seems to be permanently defiled —before this American job came my way."

"But you have retired, Holmes. We heard of you as living the life of a hermit among your bees and your books in a small farm upon the South Downs."

"Exactly, Watson. Here is the fruit of my leisured ease, the magnum opus of my latter years!" He picked up the volume from the table and read out the whole title, Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, with Some Observations upon the Segregation of the Queen. 

"Alone I did it. Behold the fruit of pensive nights and laborious days when I watched the little working gangs as once I watched the criminal world of London."

"But how did you get to work again?"

"Ah, I have often marvelled at it myself. The Foreign Minister alone I could have withstood, but when the Premier also deigned to visit my humble roof—! The fact is, Watson, that this gentleman upon the sofa was a bit too good for our people. He was in a class by himself. Things were going wrong, and no one could understand why they were going wrong. Agents were suspected or even caught, but there was evidence of some strong and secret central force. It was absolutely necessary to expose it. Strong pressure was brought upon me to look into the matter. It has cost me two years, Watson, but they have not been devoid of excitement. When I say that I started my pilgrimage at Chicago, graduated in an Irish secret society at Buffalo, gave serious trouble to the constabulary at Skibbareen, and so eventually caught the eye of a subordinate agent of Von Bork, who recommended me as a likely man, you will realise that the matter was complex. Since then I have been honoured by his confidence, which has not prevented most of his plans going subtly wrong and five of his best agents being in prison. I watched them, Watson, and I picked them as they ripened. Well, sir, I hope that you are none the worse!"

The last remark was addressed to Von Bork himself, who after much gasping and blinking had lain quietly listening to Holmes's statement. He broke out now into a furious stream of German invective, his face convulsed with passion. Holmes continued his swift investigation of documents while his prisoner cursed and swore.

"Though unmusical, German is the most expressive of all languages," he observed when Von Bork had stopped from pure exhaustion. "Hullo! Hullo!" he added as he looked hard at the corner of a tracing before putting it in the box. "This should put another bird in the cage. I had no idea that the paymaster was such a rascal, though I have long had an eye upon him. Mister Von Bork, you have a great deal to answer for."

The prisoner had raised himself with some difficulty upon the sofa and was staring with a strange mixture of amazement and hatred at his captor.

"I shall get level with you, Altamont," he said, speaking with slow deliberation. "If it takes me all my life I shall get level with you!"

"The old sweet song," said Holmes. "How often have I heard it in days gone by. It was a favourite ditty of the late lamented Professor Moriarty. Colonel Sebastian Moran has also been known to warble it. And yet I live and keep bees upon the South Downs."

" As I mentioned in my introduction to Frank's Dark Knight, one of the things that prevents superhero stories from ever attaining the status of true modern myths or legends is that they are open ended. 

An essential quality of a Legend is that the events in it are clearly defined in time; Robin Hood is driven to become an outlaw by the injustices of King John and his minions. That is his Origin. 

He meets Little John, Friar Tuck and all the rest and forms the merry men. He wins the tournament in disguise, he falls in love with Maid Marian and thwarts the Sheriff of Nottingham. That is his Career, including love interest, Major Villains and the formation of a superhero group that he is part of. 

He lives to see the return of Good King Richard and is finally killed by a woman, firing a last arrow to mark the place where he shall be buried. That is his Resolution --

you can apply the same paradigm to King Arthur, Davy Crockett or Sherlock Holmes with equal success. 

You cannot apply it to most comic book characters because, in order to meet the commercial demands of a continuing series, they can never have a resolution. Indeed, they find it difficult to embrace any of the changes in life that the passage of time brings about for these very same reasons, making them finally less than fully human as well as falling far short of True Myth. 

The reasons this all came up in the Dark Knight intro was that I felt that Frank had managed to fulfill that requirement in terms of Superman and Batman, giving us an image which, while perhaps not of their actual deaths, showed up how they were at their endings, in their final years. Whether this story will actually ever happen in terms of "real" continuity is irrelevant: by providing a fitting and affective capstone to the Batman legend it makes it just that... a legend rather than an endlessly meandering continuity. 

It does no damage to the current stories of Batman in the present, and indeed it does the opposite by lending them a certain weight and power by implication and association--every minor shift of attitude in the current Bruce Wayne's approach to life that might be seen in Batman or Detective over the next few years, whether intentionally or not, will provide twinges of excitement for the fans who can perceive their contemporary Batman inching ever closer to the intense and immortal giant portrayed in the Dark Knight chronicles. 

It also provides a special poignance... while I was doing some of the episodes of "Under the Hood" for the Watchmen text backup and especially upon seeing Dave's mock-up photographs of the Minutemen in their early, innocent days, I felt as if I'd touched upon that sense of "look at them all being happy. They didn't know how it would turn out" that one sometimes gets when looking at old photographs.  

Dark Knight does this for the Batman to some degree, and I'd like to try to do the same for the whole DC Cosmos in Twilight. I feel that by providing a capstone of the type mentioned above, but one which embraces the whole DC Universe rather than just a couple of its heroes, I can lend a coherence and emotional weight to the notion of a cohesive DC Universe, thus fulfilling the criteria set out in my ramblings about the effect of all this on the idea of DC continuity as mentioned above.  

Being set in a possible future, it does nothing that cannot be undone, and yet at the same time has a real and tangible effect upon the lives and activities of the various characters in their own books and their own current continuities. 

At the same time, by providing that capstone and setting the whole continuity into a framework of complete and whole legend, as Frank did in Dark Knight, we make the whole thing seem much more of a whole with a weight of circumstance and history that might help to cement over any shakiness left in the wake of Crisis and its ramifications. 

Even if we pull the threads of these various characters' circumstances together at some hypothetical point in the future, this does imply that there is a logical pattern or framework for the whole DC Universe, even if the resolution of the pattern is at a point thirty years in the hypothetical future.

 

Stan “The Legend” Lee

The Legend

First appearance is issue 7. An as-yet-unnamed elderly man who, while not an official member of the Boys, works as their informant.

He is a former comic editor/writer who worked for Vought-American’s Victory Comics subsidiary, writing all the comics based on Vought’s superheroes to “give people supes like they wanted supes to be”. 

His work on superhero comics gives him incredible knowledge of them and Vought-American.  

He hates “that comic-book crap”, though he lives under a comic store surrounded by his work.

The Legend has no family other than his two sons, both of whom are deceased. 

His elder son was killed in Vietnam as a result of faulty rifles produced by Vought-American (which ironically resemble the British Army’s SA80 bullpup rifles). 

His son’s death is the impetus for his association with Vought: to gather information in the hope he could one day assist in their destruction. 

It is also revealed in issue 54 that once Vought-American introduced The Homelander to the world in 1969, The Legend made a strategic move and got himself filmed at a memorial service for the air cav that his first son served in. 

Greg Mallory didn’t buy the fact that a Vought-American man felt guilty about what his company was doing. 

His second son is revealed in issue 22 to be the Teenage Kix member Blarney Cock, from whom he was estranged and was satisfied that Hughie killed him.

He was produced by The Legend and Queen Maeve during a relationship that the two had together, which was confirmed in issue #57 when Hughie discover surveillance photos and transcripts of The Legend having sex with Queen Maeve.

Unlike other heroes, the Legend has shown a certain fondness for Queen Maeve, serving as her confidant at times, and showing an almost fatherly approach during her encounter with the Boys after 9/11 and on Doc Peculiar’s transcripts. 

Butcher has accused The Legend of developing feelings for Queen Maeve, which could set up dire consequences for both The Boys and The Seven. 

 In issue 67, after informing Hughie of the death of Vas, he is confronted by Butcher and dies from a heart attack.