The Boys: I'm the New Hue, I Need More Power

Chapter 5: The Unseen Aftermath

" Okay, so, new development: I'm not dead. Which, honestly, is a minor miracle. My jaw feels like it went ten rounds with a particularly enthusiastic sledgehammer, and my head is doing a drum solo, but I'm definitely still in one piece. Mostly. And that hum. It's still there. A dull, persistent ache behind my eyes, a constant reminder of my very, very bad choices. I probably didn't even get the bug planted. So, I got punched by an invisible man, almost got caught by Vought, and achieved absolutely nothing. My life is officially a masterclass in failure. And I'm pretty sure Butcher's going to make me regret every single one of my life choices. Starting with the one where I decided to answer his damn phone call. "

Hughie woke up to the jarring sensation of cold water splashing on his face. He gasped, his eyes flying open, blinking against the harsh glare of a single, bare bulb. He was lying on a concrete floor, his head throbbing, his jaw aching. Above him, a scowling Billy Butcher stood, an empty bucket in his hand. Frenchie was hovering nearby, looking concerned, and M.M. was shaking his head, a look of weary disapproval etched on his face. They were back in the boiler room.

"Took you long enough to wake up, mate," Butcher grunted, dropping the bucket with a clatter. "Thought you were going to sleep through the bloody apocalypse."

Hughie pushed himself up, wincing. "What… what happened? How did I get here?"

"Translucent happened," M.M. said, his voice clipped. "He found you. And he gave you a good old-fashioned Supe beatdown. We had to pull you out before he turned you into a human pretzel."

" A human pretzel. Right. Because that's exactly how I wanted to spend my Tuesday. Getting twisted into a delicious, salty snack by an invisible sadist. And they had to 'pull me out.' So, I was a damsel in distress. Again. My heroics are really starting to impress. I'm like the anti-Batman. Instead of saving people, I just get myself into trouble and then need to be rescued. And I probably lost the bug. Oh, God, the bug. "

Hughie's hand instinctively went to his pocket. Empty. His heart sank. "The bug! Did I… did I plant it? Did I lose it?"

Butcher scoffed. "You were too busy getting your face rearranged, mate. Frenchie had to go back in and retrieve you. And the bug. It was still in your pocket. Unplanted. Useless."

" Useless. Yeah, that's me. My new middle name. Hughie 'Useless' Campbell. I can't even get myself caught properly, let alone plant a bug. And I got punched by Translucent. The guy who's supposed to be invulnerable. And I did nothing. I felt that hum, that jolt, that… whatever it is. And it did nothing. Absolutely nothing. So much for my terrifying, nascent potential. Turns out, it's just a symptom of severe anxiety. Great. Just great. "

Hughie groaned, running a hand over his aching jaw. The hum, which had been a dull ache, now pulsed with a frustrated intensity. He remembered the feeling, the strange resonance when he touched Translucent. It wasn't a power. It was just… a reaction. A violent, internal tremor that seemed to push against the very fabric of reality around him, but ultimately, did nothing.

"He knew," Hughie whispered, the memory of Translucent's voice, "Lost, little lamb," echoing in his ears. "He knew I was there. He knew… something was off."

Butcher narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, 'off'? Did you say something? Do something stupid?"

"No! I just… I don't know!" Hughie insisted, his voice rising in frustration. "He just… he seemed to sense me. And when I tried to run, when I touched him… I felt that hum, that jolt, it went wild. And he gasped. He said, 'What the…?' Like he felt something too. But then he just… punched me. And nothing happened. I didn't do anything."

Frenchie, who had been listening intently, stepped forward, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You say he sensed you? And he reacted when you touched him? Even though you did not… activate any power?"

"I don't have a power!" Hughie snapped, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "It's just… a feeling! A hum! It's probably just shock! Or a concussion! I'm just a civilian! I sell stereos!"

" I sell stereos. My mantra. My pathetic, desperate attempt to cling to normalcy. But normalcy is gone. It evaporated with Robin. And now I'm here, in a boiler room, being interrogated by a mad Frenchman and an angry Englishman about a 'hum' that probably means I'm going insane. This is my life now. And I'm still useless. "

M.M. sighed, rubbing his temples. "Look, Hughie, we don't know what that 'hum' is. Maybe it's just stress. Maybe it's residual energy from A-Train. But whatever it is, it didn't help you in there. You got lucky we were able to get you out."

Butcher, however, was watching Hughie with a strange, calculating glint in his eyes. He seemed to be processing something, turning it over in his mind. "He sensed you, eh? And he reacted when you touched him. Even without you doing anything. Interesting." He walked over to a grimy whiteboard, picking up a marker. He drew a crude stick figure, then a series of wavy lines emanating from it. "So, you're like a… a Supe-detector. A human tuning fork. You vibrate when they're near."

" A Supe-detector. A human tuning fork. Great. My new job title. 'Hughie Campbell: Official Supe-Sensing Civilian. Warning: May spontaneously panic.' This is not what I signed up for. I wanted justice. Not… whatever this is. This is like a really bad superpower, if it even is a superpower. It's like having a superpower that just tells you you're about to get punched. Not exactly a game-changer. "

Hughie stared at the whiteboard, then at Butcher. The idea was absurd. But the hum in his chest, that persistent, unsettling vibration, seemed to resonate with Butcher's words. It was like his body was trying to confirm it, even if his mind refused to accept it.

"So, what now?" Hughie asked, his voice flat. "I failed. The bug isn't planted. Vought knows we're poking around."

"We go again," Butcher said, his eyes hard. "We don't give up. Not now. Not ever. They think they've got us beat? They think they can just brush us aside? We'll show 'em. And you, mate," he pointed at Hughie, "you're coming with us. You're our… early warning system. Our human Geiger counter. You'll tell us when a Supe's near."

" My new role. A human Geiger counter. My resume is going to look amazing. 'Skills: Proficient in electronics repair, exceptional at panicking, surprisingly good at detecting invisible, homicidal superheroes.' This is fine. Everything is fine. I'm just going to be a walking, talking target. But at least I'm doing something. Something that might actually hurt them. Even if it hurts me more. This is going to be a long, painful, and probably very humiliating journey. "

Hughie felt a wave of despair wash over him. He was trapped. Trapped in this boiler room, trapped with these dangerous, insane people, and trapped in a world where superheroes were monsters. But beneath the despair, a flicker of something else. A grim determination. He hadn't gotten his justice yet. And he wasn't going to stop until he did. Even if it meant being a human tuning fork for the rest of his miserable life.

"Alright," Hughie said, pushing himself to his feet, wincing as his jaw protested. "What's the plan?"

Butcher grinned, a flash of predatory satisfaction. "That's the spirit, mate. Frenchie, M.M., get ready. We're going to try something… different. And Hughie, you're going to be our bait."

" Bait. Of course. Because that's exactly what I am. A worm on a hook. A very, very nervous worm. This is going to be fun. Not. But if it gets us closer to A-Train, closer to Vought, closer to making them pay… then maybe it's worth it. Maybe. God, I hope so. Because I'm pretty sure my sanity is on a very, very short leash right now. And it's getting shorter with every passing minute. "