The Superhero Deep

The Deep wore the friendly expression of someone meeting a new colleague.

He spoke gently, acting every bit the considerate senior colleague.

"Remember me, Ryan? We met at the beach."

"Who?"

"I even caught fish for you."

"Oh, right. The fisherman."

"Enough."

The Deep could no longer keep up his kindly expression. He slammed a fist onto the conference table, and the crack echoed through the room.

"You want to join The Seven, right?"

"I never said that."

"Let's pretend you did. Ryan, you know who calls the shots in The Seven."

"People make their own decisions."

"Not if they want to work in The Seven. Homelander's gone, so I'm in charge here now."

"Really?"

Puzzled, Ryan looked past The Deep at A-Train.

A-Train was looking at The Deep too, his face practically asking, What's this guy talking about?

The Deep alone failed to notice. He moved closer to Ryan.

"Bottom line: if you want to stay, get on my good side first."

"The Deep, I'm a fan. I've always thought you were cool."

Ryan's delivery was flat, his praise perfunctory, but The Deep seemed to eat it up.

"Really? I knew I was cool."

"Don't you own a mirror?"

"Ryan!"

The Deep's voice rose again. He could no longer contain himself.

Fruit had always made for a vitamin-rich snack, and bananas had a distinctive texture.

They helped digestion and relieved internal heat.

Out of the goodness of his heart, The Deep offered Ryan a banana. Ryan did not like fruit.

Bang.

A crash rang out, louder than The Deep's shout.

Ryan had flipped over the conference table The Seven used for meetings—a heavy table that normally took several people to dismantle and move.

With one hand, Ryan had overturned it and pinned The Deep underneath. He struggled like a dead fish on a cutting board.

Only The Deep's eyes could move. He glared hard at Ryan.

Unfortunately, he did not have the nerve to spit at him.

He could only let Ryan grab him by the head.

"Who runs Seven Tower?"

"You do. You do now."

"But I only just got here. How could it be me?"

Ryan looked genuinely confused. The Deep wanted to cry. He was a burly man, but tears were threatening to come.

"Whatever you say goes."

"Who just threatened to keep me out of The Seven?"

"Who could it have been?"

The Deep put on an equally blank I don't know a thing expression and pretended to think.

He looked toward A-Train, hoping for help, only to find a look in A-Train's eyes that said, Don't look at me.

The man in the blue track jacket quietly backed away from him.

At that moment, The Deep understood just how unreliable teammates could be.

He gritted his teeth. He would have to save himself. Resolve returned to his eyes as he looked at Ryan.

"Please forgive me."

"Did you do something wrong?"

"My very existence was a mistake. I'm already reflecting on it."

The sudden plea amazed Ryan. The Deep certainly had thick skin. He had not become a Supe without a few tricks up his sleeve.

But as for forgiveness and a villain's remorse—

Those were only words.

When a villain said he regretted what he had done, he really meant he regretted being unable to beat you right then. Once he could—

You would be the first to learn what hell felt like.

So Ryan paid no mind to The Deep's repentance. It was only his first day here, and he did not want ketchup splattered everywhere.

Kindly, he dragged The Deep out. The heavy conference table finally settled fully onto the floor.

The Deep looked miserable. His back had been crushed inward, and his furrowed brow showed how much pain he was in.

Ryan felt no sympathy. Only a Supe's inhuman physique could get away with injuries this minor. An ordinary person—

Would have died on the spot.

The Deep wanted to scream as Ryan hauled him out, but he did not dare. He never wanted to provoke Ryan again.

In his mind, Ryan had become even more terrifying than Homelander.

So when Ryan questioned him, The Deep answered without holding anything back.

Ryan glanced regretfully at the table.

"The table's okay, right? You broke it."

"It's fine. I broke it, so I'll have a new one custom-made later."

The Deep was much more obedient now.

Even A-Train found it hard to watch.

Never one to mince words, A-Train spoke up.

"Ryan, you don't have a chair yet. Why not take mine? I can stand during meetings."

"Oh."

Ryan nodded in acknowledgment, then went back to talking to The Deep.

"I know The Seven doesn't keep dead weight around."

"Of course. The Seven brings together Vought International's finest superpowered people."

"If someone got crushed under the table again and ended up half-paralyzed, he couldn't stay in The Seven, could he?"

"Please, anything but that."

"Then behave, The Deep."

The Deep nodded over and over, emphatically agreeing.

The room was a mess, and the conference table still lay overturned. Ryan had no desire to stay.

If The Deep had not provoked him, things would not have come to this.

If you encounter an ad asking, "Are you a real person?" ignore it and close it. Do not scan any codes or send text messages!

It had been a brash, reckless thing to do, but Ryan could hardly have politely obeyed The Deep—

And eaten that damn banana.

As for reasoning with people, if someone accepted another person's argument, chances were they had not been persuaded. They had simply decided, If that's what you think, what more can I say?

Now, after that commotion, the dismissive looks Ryan had received for being young had turned respectful.

He looked at A-Train.

"Clean this up and take him to the Infirmary."

"Okay."

With that, Ryan left the office. Part of him wanted to smash through the glass and fly away.

But today, he felt like taking the elevator.

Ryan rode down, left Vought International's building, and wandered along the street.

The bustling sidewalks were crowded with people.

He strolled past the shops, looking around. In his pocket was a card he could charge purchases to, given to him by Madelyn on the helicopter.

He did not know its limit. Whenever he saw something he liked, he bought it to try.

Before he knew it, his wandering brought him into a Video Store.

The clerk selling the tapes was an honest-looking young man.

The store was nearly empty, so Ryan browsed the tapes at his leisure.

They all looked ordinary.

Ordinary stories.

None caught his interest. He was still searching when the clerk left the counter and approached him.

"Looking for something? Can I help?"

Ryan turned his gaze from the tapes on the shelf to the clerk.

Before he could speak, the clerk went on.

"I'm Hughie. I'd be happy to help."

The clerk seemed mild-mannered, and Ryan still had not found a good movie.

So he asked where he could find one with a good story that would really draw him in.

Hughie thought for a moment.

"Kids your age like Supes, right?"

"Are you recommending me a Supe movie?"

"No. I want to recommend one about taking Supes down."

"Is there a movie like that?"

"Not yet. They might not even have started filming. But we can wait."

"Until the next generation burns you a copy to take to your grave?"

Ryan was still a man from another world, and the remark had a distinctly Chinese flavor.

He did not care whether Hughie understood it.

He studied Hughie's face. He could not tell whether Hughie had understood, but he could see the worry there.

And a grief beyond words.

"I don't think I have it in me to raise a next generation. My girlfriend Robin was killed by A-Train."

Ryan froze. He had thought he had saved Robin, but Hughie's words took him by surprise. He looked at the rows of tapes on the shelves.

"Is this what you tell customers?"

"What does it matter? You look like you've got time to spare."

"I ought to hit you."

Ryan voiced his displeasure but did not hit him. He was usually easygoing, and there was something about Hughie's face.

Besides, Ryan wanted to know something.

"Hughie, I've seen you before. You were at an intersection with a girl, and I stopped A-Train from running into you."

"You mean the time A-Train got hurt? I remember. The girl with me was just someone I was walking with."

"That wasn't Robin?"

"No. But I miss Robin so much."

Beside the shelves of tapes, Hughie stood in his store uniform and began to talk.

"Robin and I were together for so long. I always loved her. But when we parted at an intersection, A-Train ran into her at full speed and turned her into a smear of flesh."

"How did Vought International handle it afterward?"

"Vought International sent a lawyer with tens of thousands of dollars to buy my silence. I have to get justice for Robin. I don't want money."

Love was a powerful thing, but Ryan thought Hughie was being unrealistic.

For a video store clerk like Hughie, Vought International was a giant.

Even if he tried to shake it, there was only so much an ant could lift.

But Ryan had not suffered what Hughie had. He could not tell him to let it go.

So he asked instead.

"How are you going to get justice for your girlfriend?"

"Sue them."

"What are people online saying about you and your girlfriend?"

"Vought International put out a statement saying A-Train was chasing bank robbers and my girlfriend was tragically caught in the crossfire."

Hughie clutched his head. His eyes were bloodshot.

"Those keyboard warriors said it was a necessary sacrifice. I should understand, right? Well, I don't!"

He shouted the last words. Ryan stepped back to avoid getting sprayed with spit.

A-Train really did not watch where he was going. Ryan had no words.

They ought to require licenses for speedster Supes from now on.

No running under the influence.

No taking to the streets until they had passed every part of the test.

Unaware of Ryan's thoughts, Hughie recovered from his outburst.

His voice fell, heavy with dejection.

"Sorry. I'll find you a tape. Me, I lost all admiration for Supes after that."

Vought International had handled this badly, and Ryan could only offer Hughie a few words of comfort.

"A-Train killed someone because he failed to control his powers. That's incompetence. Vought International failed to lift the shadow hanging over you. That's heartlessness. A Supe can't be both incompetent and heartless."

"Right, right."

Hughie hadn't thought through exactly what Ryan meant. He only knew Ryan was criticizing A-Train, and right now, as far as he was concerned, if you had something bad to say about A-Train...

Then we were friends.

The look Hughie gave Ryan grew warmer and warmer, until it was almost flirtatious.

Ryan noticed the unusual stare and shuddered.

"Keep looking at me like that, and I'll shove whatever you're looking at me with into your cloaca."

"Sir, you should watch something gentle to dispel that anger. I recommend The Lion King."