Underground

A dull boom echoed through the room.

Translucent did not even get out his last words before he ceased to be whole.

Ryan turned his head away, unable to bear the sight. In the dim light of the basement,

red splashes covered everything, from floor to wall, from wall to Hughie's face.

A man who had once sat at the same conference table as Ryan now lay scattered in pieces.

After a long moment,

Ryan wiped the red splatter from his face. It was warm and smelled of iron.

He stepped through the basement doorway and descended the stairs, his footfalls crisp and clear.

Each step seemed to echo inside Hughie, who looked up in a daze.

Ryan reached Hughie and took the detonator from his hand.

It came away easily. Hughie had not been gripping it tightly at all.

Hughie had not listened to Ryan's warning, either. Now Translucent was in pieces, and there was no taking it back.

Ryan threw the detonator away, his heart heavy.

"Translucent's the one who died. Why do you look scared out of your mind?"

"It's terrifying. The first time always is."

"Were you planning to get used to it?"

"..."

Hughie said nothing, but a smile spread across his bloodstained face, so twisted it reminded Ryan of what he had seen at a wildlife park.

The lions had pinned down a fawn that could not escape and eaten it bite by bite, scraps of meat caught between their teeth.

Hughie broke the silence.

"Maybe I stopped being normal the day A-Train ran down my girlfriend."

"Not normal enough to kill Translucent? He never did anything to you."

"If he got out, he'd come after us."

"He didn't get out. But neither the courts nor the Supes will forgive you for this."

"Don't give me that, Ryan. I did the right thing. Those shiny heroes are the ones in the wrong."

He railed against A-Train, a man hailed as a hero who had smashed his girlfriend to pieces, then gone out partying at night.

A man like that deserved to die.

Ryan shook his head. The sunny store clerk who had once tried to sell him a videotape was nowhere to be seen.

In the basement light, Ryan could see Hughie's expression clearly.

Excitement, turmoil, a sense of accomplishment—they were all mixed together. It was a sorry sight.

Ryan had seen it, though, and he was going to act.

"Hughie, I'm giving you two choices. Turn yourself in, or I'll turn you in."

"There's no third option?"

"You didn't seem this nervous when you pressed the detonator."

From Hughie's uneasy expression, Ryan knew he did not want to turn himself in. He felt no guilt over Translucent's death.

All he felt was the rush of letting out years of resentment.

As for turning himself in, Ryan had spent a long time at the Seven Tower.

He knew that if Hughie confessed to killing a Supe, it would shake everyone.

But Vought International would bury the news. If an ordinary person killed a Supe who had been placed on a pedestal, that hero would come crashing down.

Besides, Vought International did not get along with the authorities Hughie would have to face if he turned himself in.

They would use him as a pawn in their struggle, dragging him into the fight.

None of that was what Ryan had wanted.

All he had wanted was to train his powers and live peaceful days as a Supe.

But the world kept following its old course, breeding tragedy after tragedy.

Hughie shook his head, plainly refusing. Ryan was about to force the issue when someone kicked open the basement door.

The crash drew both their attention.

A sharp-eyed man with a black beard stood there.

Ryan remembered his name: Billy.

Billy looked relieved.

"The explosion made Homelander want to come check it out. Good thing I set off the charges somewhere else in time. Got him to fly away."

"He'll come back when he realizes he's been fooled."

"That's a problem for later."

Billy waved it off and entered the basement. Ryan glanced around. Tin Foil covered the red-stained walls, blocking Homelander's X-Ray Vision.

Billy looked around and sniffed.

"Smells like a bastard died in here. Lovely."

Like a child reporting a good deed to his teacher, Hughie raised his hand.

"I pressed the detonator."

"So Translucent's the red splatter on the walls."

"On the floor too."

At Hughie's reminder, Billy looked down. He bent and picked something up.

"Supe Translucent. Even with the man gone, his Carbon Skin's still tough."

Only then did he notice Ryan. He said, "Welcome," while picking up the Sniper Rifle he had assembled earlier.

"I heard what you said, Ryan."

"Guess this basement isn't very soundproof."

"You were going to make Hughie turn himself in? He'd give all of us up."

"Then turn yourselves in together."

"I will, someday. But I've got unfinished business right now."

"Save it for your next life."

After that brief exchange, Billy still could not pull the trigger. Hughie had wrapped both arms around him.

"Ryan isn't like Translucent. Why do you want to shoot everyone you meet?"

"Because I've got a gun."

Cursing, Billy shoved Hughie away but did not raise the rifle again.

Partly, he had noticed how calm Ryan looked with a gun aimed at his head. And partly, Ryan did not seem all that bitter.

Deciding they could talk, Billy tossed the rifle aside.

"Give me a little more time. Once I've done what I need to do, I'll turn myself in."

"What are you doing? Taking out Supes like this?"

"No. I'm looking for my wife."

His face softened in a way that seemed out of place on such a burly man as he spoke of her.

"She disappeared. I've been looking for her for years and years. My only lead is Homelander, at Vought International."

"..."

His words stirred Ryan's memories of the original story. He knew a little about Billy's past.

Ryan was about to reply when the basement door was kicked open again.

This time, the newcomer was someone Ryan did not recognize.

He was short and squat, with eyes that flashed with depravity and a deathly madness.

He looked like a man with a story, but Ryan had no interest in him. He turned to Billy.

"Don't know him. Shoot him."

"You were just telling me to turn myself in."

"..."

Ryan calmed down and realized he had been rash. He asked who the newcomer was.

The man seemed to know Billy.

And Billy knew him.

"This is Frenchie. His family's especially good at waving white flags."

"And?"

"I owe him forty grand. He's my creditor, and I'm his daddy."

"So you're not paying him back?"

"Depends on my mood."

Ryan looked at the thin Frenchie. He was rubbing his fists as though he wanted to punch Billy, but he never quite dared to do it.