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Hughie leaves the meeting room in much higher spirits than he entered with. To be fair, upon entering, he was only imagining all the gruesome and awful ways A-Train could kill him, or Homelander, or any of the Seven for that matter. With the bug secured under the table, and a newfound confidence after staring A-Train in the eye, he is grinning as he makes his way to the exit.
His cheery mood is explainable enough. After all, he acquired $45,000 with one simple signature, not that he intends to use it. It’s blood money, but the check in his possession is a perfect excuse for his mood considering there’s only one person he can tell the truth to – Butcher, the FBI agent that’s waiting for him to signal his success.
Pulling his phone out, he sends a quick text to the older man: It’s done.
The read receipts show that Butcher read it, but there’s no response. Hughie’s alright with that. There doesn’t need to be. Before he locks his phone, suddenly it’s torn from his hands, seemingly floating in mid-air. He can’t help but flinch, a muttered “what the fuck?” as it dangles, swings, and navigates all on its own.
Hughie looks around, curious if anyone else has noticed the display, before turning to see his phone go around a corner. “Wait!” he calls, quickly following the trail. It isn’t lost on him that there’s an obvious reason this is occurring. Translucent, a superhero famous for his invisibility, has seemingly yanked the possession from his grip, but his stomach churns as he begins to wonder why.
Did Translucent see him plant the bug under the table?
Luckily, nothing on his phone incriminates him. The text he sent was the first one between him and Butcher, and the vagueness of the text allows for freedom of explanation. Hughie turns another corner, moving at a light jog, before seeing the object float its way into a seemingly empty room.
Hughie’s pace slows as he enters, heart pounding in his ears, and he suddenly realises that he didn’t have to chase Translucent through twisting halls. As the door slams behind him, he wishes he had let the superhero have it. “Uh, Translucent?” he calls, swallowing, spotting his phone abandoned on a table.
This room, too, looks like a meeting room but much less grand than the one he was in before. There’s a long table, comfortable chairs spotted around it, a small water cooler next to the door. Slowly, he takes a couple steps towards the table, squeaking when he runs into something solid – Translucent makes himself visible.
“Oh, Jesus,” Hughie exhales, looking away as he processes the naked form of the hero.
“Missing something?” Translucent asks, and Hughie doesn’t look, simply nods.
“Yeah, my – my phone,” he answers, stepping to the side so he can grab it. Translucent takes a step, as well, blocking his path.
“I thought this might be important, too.” Translucent holds out a hand, and Hughie – chest rising, falling, rising, falling – turns towards the man. Unmistakeningly, the bug he just placed is now sitting in the superhero’s hand. Shit. Shit, shit, shit –
“Wha- what’s that?” he tries. He’s so fucked. He is beyond fucked. He’s deep within Vought Tower, currently being cornered for his attempted and failed espionage, with no escape plan. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. He thought he was being sneaky. He thought no one saw, but Translucent is invisible. Who knows when he was watching?
“Don’t play dumb,” Translucent sighs, tossing the broken piece of tech between his hands, unbothered by his nudity. Hughie supposes with a power like his, he’s gotten used to it. “I saw you – you dropped it in the bathroom.”
Hughie’s mouth opens, closes, opens, closes, and then his jaw works. “I don’t – I don’t know what you’re –” Translucent interrupts him with a hard shove, sending him stumbling towards the closed door. His hands fly up, a submissive gesture. “I came here to sign a – a document, a – see! Look!” A hand digs through his pocket for the carefully folded check.
Translucent’s composure doesn’t shift. Calmly, he turns, grabs Hughie’s phone and tosses it back. Hughie fumbles with it, the device slipping between his hands and clattering on the ground. “It’s done,” he recites, referencing the text that was sent. Hughie swallows, trying his best to look innocent, but he feels like he’s about to throw up. He feels frozen, unable to grab his phone at his feet. “What’s done, Hughie?” Translucent asks, eyes narrowing, striding towards him.
Panicked, he tries to keep the space between them, ending up doing some odd sort of circle. Somehow, the door is no longer to his back but his front. He’s gripping onto a meeting chair, a wheeled boundary between them. “The – the check. Signing the check, or for the check. I finished, and he – my friend – I needed a ride home. I don’t –”
With a glistening disappearance, Translucent fades from view. Hughie feels a stone drop in his stomach, eyes wide as he has no way of knowing where the man went. “Please –” he starts to beg, “please, I –” The wheeled chair is yanked from his grasp, rolling across the floor until it hits the wall with a thud. “Oh, fuck –”
It’s the last word out of his mouth before what he assumes is a fist collides with his jaw, sending him reeling. A couple of stumbled steps, a frantic grasp for another chair, something, anything to provide the illusion of protection, when a fist connects from the opposite direction. He gasps out in pain, head pounding. “Please, pl –” Another punch, this time from below, and he yelps out as his teeth bite his tongue, a copper taste spreading through his mouth.
While disoriented, Translucent makes his way behind Hughie, wrapping an arm around his throat. “Homelander is going to make a meal of you,” Translucent growls, arm tightening. “I don’t know who you think you are, but spying,” the hold tightens, Hughie desperately claws at the invisible arm, legs fruitlessly kicking behind him, “on us? That’s some bold shit.”
Hughie’s begs and pleas have turned into whimpers and whines, expression contorted in pain and fear, eyes glossy with forming tears. He’s going to die. His father is never going to know what happened to him. The same way Vought covered up Robin’s death, they’ll do the same to him. Gasps replace his rapid breaths, lungs burning. He needs to breathe –
Bulging eyes spot the door to the meeting room open and close just as quickly, a uniformed woman pressing her palms flat against the door, shoulders heaving with her own heavy breaths. Hughie kicks, foot hitting one of the wheeled chairs, causing a loud sound. The arm is released from his throat, and the uniformed hero spins.
Suddenly, Hughie realises – he probably just made the situation worse. Instead of having one superhero to handle, he now has two. Thick gulps of air fill his aching lungs, vision focusing, and the woman steps closer. “Hughie?” A blink, and he recognises the voice, the face –
“An-” he coughs. “Annie? Annie, oh my god, hi.”
“Jesus, Hughie, what are you – what happened?”
Hughie can feel the dull throbbing all throughout his face. He’s sure there are areas spotted red, slowly turning a deeper shade of blue or purple. The taste of blood still sits in his mouth. He’s at a loss for words, particularly because Translucent is still here. The door didn’t open again.
“You’re bleeding,” she states, looking incredibly confused. Hughie’s pulled back by that statement. He lets out a breathy laugh, paranoid glances taken around the room.
“I – yeah, and you’re..” Starlight, he wants to say, but he’s interrupted.
“He’s a spy,” says a voice. Translucent is visible again. Starlight turns, and Hughie feels his stomach churn. He wants this to be over. He needs this to be over. “He came here to plant a bug. I stopped him.” Starlight seems equally unimpressed by Translucent’s nudity, turning her head away, but what he says – it clearly catches her interest.
Hughie watches her try and process the scene around her, putting together that Hughie’s current state is a result of Translucent’s violence, although she can’t ignore what he’s saying. “A.. bug? Why were you planting a bug?” Both superheroes have their full attention trained on him.
In this moment, Hughie realises that he either has to spin the greatest, most convincing lie he’s ever told, or he’s dead. “A-Train killed my girlfriend,” he finds himself saying, deciding to begin with the truth. His voice shakes, heavy with emotion. Starlight’s expression pinches into one of concern, confusion, and empathy all at once. Translucent is less visibly emotive; he stays silent, allowing Hughie’s explanation.
“I – I was here to sign a deal. A.. I don’t talk about Robin’s death and allow Vought to continue saying it was an accident, and in return I – I would get this,” he holds up the check, wrinkled from the earlier fight. “It’s $45,000, but I –” Hughie finds himself digging into his real emotions, an unintentional tactic to make this more convincing. “I don’t – I don’t want it, I just want Robin back. I want A-Train to –” He falls silent, jaw tight. “I planted a bug, because I thought – I thought I could hear him say something while I was out of the room. Maybe some.. regret or – or guilt.”
Annie seems convinced of his story. Translucent is standing closer to them now, arms folded over his bare chest. “I’m sorry. I know this looks terrible, but – please. I just – I don’t believe that shit he says on tv. Or even to my face. I don’t know what I was going to do after that. I didn’t think that far ahead. I was.. I am..” Tongue sucks on his teeth, jaw aching. “Please, I swear it’s the truth.”
The silence in the room feels impossibly long, and Hughie fidgets, blood rushing in his ears. “I believe you,” Annie says. Hughie’s eyes find hers. “On the bench, the life thing – it was this?”
Slowly, Hughie nods. “Robin. I was – I was talking about Robin.”
“And this was you going into the middle of the ice.”
Hughie swallows, nods. He feels so close to getting out of this. He looks back towards Translucent only to find the space empty. Annie must have read the shifting expression on his face, because she looks around, too. The sound of the door closing causes them both to stare. He can’t tell if this development is positive or negative.
Clearly, Annie decides to ignore it – at least temporarily. “I’m sorry about Robin, Hughie,” Annie says, and Hughie looks back at her, constantly glancing back towards the doorway. “I can walk you out.”
The offer finally pulls Hughie out of his fog. “It’s – yeah, tha- thanks. Um, so.. do I still call you Annie? Or.. is it Starlight?”
Annie rolls her eyes, a gentle smile on her lips. “Annie’s fine, and I’ll make sure Translucent leaves you be. Come on, I can get you as far as the parking lot, and Hughie?” He hums. “Stay away from here.”
As they exit, Hughie grabs his phone off the floor but can’t help but notice the bug is missing. Maybe Translucent is showing it to Homelander as they speak. Maybe Hughie will wake tonight to a gun floating above his bed, the last sight he ever sees. He shivers at the dark direction of his thoughts. Hopefully, Butcher will have a plan for this. After all, he’s FBI. Maybe there’s a safe house he can hide out in until this all blows over.