Chapter 31: Is He My Son?
"Victoria Neuman." Butcher hit a name. "Her people have been very active lately. I suspect she's building her own team of Supes."
Lu Ren looked at this reply, recalling the way Victoria Neuman had smiled at him in the conference room.
A cross inside a circle.
"I'll be waiting for you here."
---
9:00 AM, Queens hideout.
When Lu Ren pushed the door open, the room was already full of people.
Butcher sat at one end of the long table, a city map of Miami spread out before him, with several circles drawn in red marker. MM stood next to him, holding a tablet displaying a floor plan of a hotel. Kimiko sat in the corner, the antique rifle resting on her lap as she pressed bullets into the magazine. Frenchie had finally appeared—he was crouched in front of an open laptop, typing away as lines of code scrolled across the screen, a cup of now-cold coffee sitting beside him.
Hughie was there too.
He sat opposite Butcher, his hands on his knees, fingers constantly intertwining, separating, intertwining, separating. He wore that green plaid shirt and a baseball cap, the brim pulled low, but it couldn't hide the dark circles under his eyes.
Soldier Boy sat in the chair in the furthest corner, wearing Mikhail's old army coat, holding a beer in his hand, and watching TV. The TV was playing the morning news—a blonde anchorwoman reporting on a festival parade somewhere.
No one spoke.
Butcher was the first to see Lu Ren walk in; he nodded at him, then went back to studying the map.
"Translucent's last known stop in Miami was the 'Governor's Hotel' on South Beach, room 1228." He pointed to a circle on the map. "Hotel security footage captured him entering the room, but never leaving. His luggage in the room hadn't been moved, the bed was made, and the towel in the bathroom was damp—he'd taken a shower."
"And then?" Lu Ren approached.
"Then he vanished." MM took over. "There's a three-minute gap in the hotel hallway surveillance. It wasn't a malfunction; someone manually deleted the footage. We had someone recover part of the data and saw a blurry figure leaving via the fire exit."
"What kind of figure?"
"Wearing a uniform." MM handed the tablet to Lu Ren. "Not a Vought International uniform, it's another kind. Dark, no insignia."
Lu Ren looked at the blurry screenshot on the tablet screen—a human silhouette, walking quickly down the stairs, shoulders broad, posture stiff, like a walking statue.
"The Cleaner?" he blurted out.
Butcher's eyebrows arched. "You know this guy?"
"I've seen him. He's the warden of the tenth level underground in the North Wing of Vought International. Codename 'The Cleaner'. He's a clone of Black Noir—or rather, an early version of the Black Noir project. No emotions, only missions."
Butcher was silent for a few seconds, then turned to Frenchie.
"Look into the background of this 'The Cleaner'. His files at Vought International, where he's been seen, mission records—everything."
"Already on it." Frenchie didn't even look up. "There's a firewall on Vought International's HR database. I need about... two hours."
"You have forty minutes." Butcher finished, then turned back to Lu Ren. "That mental patient of yours—Abigail. Can she help us find Translucent?"
"She is not my 'mental patient'." Lu Ren frowned. "And her ability isn't location tracking. She can hear brainwaves, but Translucent's body is invisible, and his brainwaves are much weaker than a normal person's, making it very hard to lock onto."
"Then make her try."
"I said, she is not my tool."
Butcher stared at Lu Ren for two seconds, then smiled. That kind of smile with no warmth, only threat.
"Everyone here is a tool." He said, "You, me, that old man—everyone. The difference is, some tools know what they are, and some don't."
"Who the fuck are you calling an old man?" Soldier Boy's voice came from the corner.
He didn't turn his head, still watching the TV, but his fingers tightened around the beer bottle.
Butcher didn't respond.
Kimiko stood up, leaned the rifle against the wall, walked over to Soldier Boy, and handed him a sandwich.
"Eat." She said.
Soldier Boy looked down at the sandwich, then at Kimiko, and took it. He took a bite, chewed twice, and went back to watching TV. The news had changed—a Vought International PR event, with Ashley on camera announcing that "Silver Lightning" merchandise sales had broken the record for a new member of The Seven.
"That's you." Soldier Boy pointed at the TV with his chin.
"Yeah."
"What rank are you in The Seven?"
"Reserve. Not an official member."
"Then what are you? An intern?" Soldier Boy finally turned his head to look at Lu Ren. "An intern, running off to Russia to fish me out of a freezer. When did Vought Internationalget so casual?"
"It wasn't Vought International that sent me." Lu Ren said. "It was someone who wants to destroy Vought International."
Soldier Boy placed the sandwich on the armrest of his chair and took a sip of beer.
"That person who wants to destroy Vought International," he glanced at Butcher, "is it him?"
"Yeah."
Soldier Boy looked Butcher up and down.
"He looks like a mad dog."
"Thanks." Butcher said.
"Wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
The two men stared at each other for a few seconds. Soldier Boy looked away first, continuing to watch the TV.
Lu Ren walked to the long table.
"What are you planning to do about Translucent?"
"Find him, catch him, make him admit he killed Robin." Hughie suddenly spoke up. His voice was loud, loud enough that everyone looked at him. He realized his volume and shrank his neck, but his gaze didn't back down. "I don't want him dead. I just want him to give Robinjustice."
"Justice?" Butcher sneered. "There is no justice in this world. Translucent killed your girlfriend, Vought International paid money, and that was the end of it. If you want justice, you have to do it yourself."
Hughie's lips were trembling.
"I don't kill people."
"Then watch him die at someone else's hands."
"Butcher." MM spoke up, his tone carrying a warning.
Butcher raised his hands in a "I'm done talking" gesture, then turned and walked to the coffee machine to pour himself a cup of black coffee.
Lu Ren walked to Hughie's side and sat down next to him.
"You don't have to kill anyone." He said, his voice only audible to the two of them. "But you need to make a choice—stand far away and watch, or get a little closer."
Hughie looked at him, his eyes red.
"I choose to get closer." He said.
"Then be prepared to get closer. Getting closer doesn't necessarily mean you'll see what you want to see."
Lu Ren stood up and walked toward Soldier Boy.
"We need to talk."
Soldier Boy finished the last of his beer, crushed the can, and tossed it into the trash can in the corner—the beer can traced an arc in the air and landed precisely in the bin.
"Talk about what?"
"Talk about your son."
Soldier Boy's expression didn't change, but he put down the sandwich.
"He is not my son." He said. "A cell. A strand of genetic sequence. An experiment. That is not a'son'. I haven't even met him."
"Then do you want to meet him now?"
Soldier Boy was silent for a long time.
On TV, the news changed again. The screen cut to the Capitol building, with Victoria Neuman standing at the podium, speaking. The caption read: "Superhuman Regulation Bill to be voted on next week."
"Who is that woman?" Soldier Boy pointed at the TV.
"Victoria Neuman. Member of the Congressional Committee on Superhuman Affairs. On the surface, she's a proponent of regulating Supes, but in reality, she's with Vought International. She can make people's heads explode with her eyes."
Soldier Boy stared at Neuman's face for a few seconds.
"The world is really complicated now." He said. "In my day, the bad guys at least wore a black mask so you could tell who the bad guy was at a glance."
He stood up and walked to the window. The curtains were drawn, and he used his fingers to pry open a slit, looking at the street scene in Queens outside—dilapidated factories, empty lots with parked trucks, and the skyline of Manhattan in the distance.
"You rescued me," he didn't look back, "not just so I could see my son, right?"
"I want you to help us kill him."
"Kill Homelander?"
"Yes."
Chapter 32: Crimson Countess
Soldier Boy turned around and looked at Lu Ren.
"Do you think I can kill him?"
"Not sure. But you understand the source of his power better than anyone—because your cells are the foundation of his. You know where his weakness lies."
"His weakness is me," Soldier Boy said in a calm voice. "Because he is a part of me. I am his weakness."
Butcher walked over from the coffee machine, holding a coffee cup in his hand.
"So when do you plan to make your move?"
"When I've thought it through," Soldier Boy sat back down in his chair and picked up the unfinished sandwich. "I've killed many people, but I've never killed my own flesh and blood. Whether he's my son or not, he has my blood flowing in him. To kill him is to kill a part of myself."
He took a bite of the sandwich and chewed slowly.
"I need to see someone," he said.
"Who?" Butcher asked.
"Crimson Countess," Soldier Boy swallowed the sandwich. "She owes me an explanation. Back then, when I was sold to the Soviet Union, if she hadn't signed, the deal wouldn't have gone through. She signed. I want to know why."
Butcher glanced at Lu Ren.
"She lives in Maine," Lu Ren said. "Dr. Vogelbaum gave me the address."
"Then go take a trip," Butcher put down his coffee cup. "You take him."
"By myself?"
"Take Kimiko with you. She's been free lately."
Kimiko raised her hand from the corner and made an OK gesture.
Soldier Boy stood up and brushed the breadcrumbs off his military coat.
"When do we leave?"
"Now," Butcher glanced at his watch. "It's a five-hour drive. You'll be there before dark."
Soldier Boy walked toward the door and paused when he passed by Lu Ren.
"What was your name again?"
"Lu Ren."
"Lu Ren," Soldier Boy repeated, his pronunciation slightly awkward. "I don't like you. But you saved me from the freezer, so I'll go with you. Once I've repaid this favor, we'll talk about other things."
He pushed the door open and walked out.
Kimiko picked up her rifle, put on her backpack, and followed behind.
Lu Ren glanced at Butcher.
"Your judgment of people isn't very good," Butcher said. "He says he doesn't like you, but I think he quite likes you. The way he looks at you is different from how he looks at others."
"How is it different?"
"When he looks at others, it's like he's looking at objects. When he looks at you, it's like he's looking at a person."
Butcher picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, and frowned—the coffee had gone cold.
"Go on. Maine isn't close. Don't let that old man wait too long."
---
Maine, evening.
The car had been driving for four and a half hours. They took I-95 from Queens, passed through Connecticut and Rhode Island, entered Massachusetts, and then turned onto I-295 near Boston, heading all the way north. Mainein autumn was beautiful; the leaves on both sides of the highway had turned orange and red, like a long, burning tunnel.
Soldier Boy sat in the back seat, watching out the window the whole time. He watched for a long time, then said something.
"The trees have grown taller."
Lu Ren turned his head from the passenger seat.
"What?"
"The last time I was in Maine, these trees weren't this tall," Soldier Boy's gaze landed on a maple forest. "Probably around 1948. On a mission, killed someone... never mind, it's not important."
Kimiko was driving and didn't speak.
As the sky gradually darkened, they drove off the main road and onto a narrow country road. On both sides of the road were farmland and scattered farmhouses. In the distance, there was a barn with a crow standing on its roof.
The destination on the GPS was getting closer and closer.
"This is it," Kimiko stopped the car at the entrance of a gravel road.
At the end of the gravel road was a two-story white wooden house. Several pots of withered flowers hung on the porch, and warm yellow lights shone through the windows. An old Ford pickup truck was parked in the yard; the body was rusty, but the tires were new.
The three of them got out of the car. Soldier Boy walked in front, his pace fast, not like an old man who had just come out of a freezer. Lu Ren followed behind, and Kimikowalked last, carrying a rifle in her hand—the muzzle pointed down, but her finger rested on the trigger guard.
The doorbell was broken. Soldier Boy knocked three times directly.
The door opened.
An old woman opened the door. Her hair was completely white, tied into a low bun. She was wearing a dark blue sweater and a plaid scarf. Her face had many wrinkles, but her eyes were very bright—not the kind of brightness extinguished by life, but a sharp, scrutinizing brightness.
She looked at Soldier Boy for about five seconds.
Then she signed: "You're not dead."
"Not dead," Soldier Boy said. "You're not dead either."
"I'm tough."
"I know."
The two of them were silent for a few seconds.
"Come in," Crimson Countess stepped back, clearing the doorway. "It's cold outside."
The temperature inside was twenty degrees higher than outside. The firewood in the stove was burning vigorously, making the whole living room warm and cozy. The living room wasn't large, but it was very tidy—the cushions on the sofa were arranged neatly, an open book was on the coffee table, and a pair of reading glasses was next to a coffee cup. The walls were covered with photos, mostly black and white, some already yellowed.
Crimson Countess gestured for them to sit. Soldier Boydidn't sit; he stood in the center of the living room, looking at the photos on the wall.
In one of the photos, a young woman was wearing a military uniform, standing next to a man also wearing a military uniform. The man's face had been blacked out—not from wear and tear over time, but someone had deliberately crossed it out with a black marker.
"That's you," Soldier Boy pointed at the photo. "And that's me next to you. You painted over my face."
"I didn't want to remember you," Crimson Countess sat on the sofa and placed her reading glasses on the coffee table. "But I couldn't bear to throw away the photo. Contradictory, isn't it?"
"Why did you sign back then?"
Crimson Countess didn't answer. She glanced at Lu Renand Kimiko.
"Who are these two?"
"The people who fished me out of the freezer."
Crimson Countess looked at Lu Ren again, this time for longer.
"What's your name?"
"Lu Ren."
"Chinese?"
"Yes."
"Thank you," Crimson Countess said. "Although I've known him long enough and didn't really want to see him again. But thank you."
She turned to Soldier Boy and took a deep breath.
"I signed because they threatened to kill my family," her voice was calm, so calm it was as if she were talking about something she had already processed long ago. "It wasn't Vought International—it was the government. The CIA. They said if I didn't sign, they would prosecute me for treason. The sentence for treason is life imprisonment. My parents, my sister, my nephew—all of them would be implicated."
"You're lying," Soldier Boy said.
"I'm not."
"You were never afraid of threats."
"I wasn't. But my family was," Crimson Countess's voice finally had a hint of fluctuation. "You don't understand. You don't have a family. You never know what it feels like to betray someone for your family."
"You betrayed me."
Chapter 33: Finding Translucent
"Yes." Crimson Countess stood up and walked over to Soldier Boy. "I betrayed you. I signed the papers. You were sent to the Soviet Union. Then you disappeared for forty years. For forty years, every single night, I've thought about the same question—if I hadn't signed, would things have been different?"
"No." Soldier Boy said. "If you hadn't signed, they would have found someone else to do it. Someone always would have signed."
"Then why did you come to ask me?"
Soldier Boy was silent for a moment.
"Because I wanted to hear you say it."
Crimson Countess looked at him, her eyes turning red, but she didn't cry.
"I'm sorry." She said. "Three words, forty years too late. I'm sorry."
Soldier Boy reached out and touched her hair. The movement was very light, like an old man touching the hair of an old friend.
"You've gotten old." He said.
"You've gotten old too." Crimson Countess said, "But you're still alive."
"Alive." Soldier Boy pulled his hand back. "But I don't know what for."
The firewood in the stove crackled, the flames flickered, casting a dancing shadow on the wall.
Crimson Countess sat back on the sofa and picked up her reading glasses, but didn't put them on.
"You're here to ask about Homelander, aren't you?" She said.
"How did you know?"
"That young man named Lu Ren was watching your reactions the whole time." Crimson Countess smiled. "He isn't the type of person who would just 'pull you out of the freezer' for no reason. He has an agenda. You want to help him achieve that agenda. That's why you came."
"You're very sharp." Soldier Boy said.
"It's not sharpness, it's just getting old. When you get old, you see everything clearly."
Crimson Countess stood up, walked over to a cabinet, took an envelope out of a drawer, and handed it to Lu Ren.
"Inside are the files I've collected about Homelander over the years." She said. "Not the ones Vought Internationalreleased to the public, but internal files—his birth records, test data, and psychological evaluation reports. Some I brought out of Vought International myself, and some were sent to me anonymously later."
Lu Ren took the envelope but didn't open it.
"Why did you collect these?"
"Because I wanted to know what that 'experiment' I signed away for eventually turned into." Crimson Countess looked at Soldier Boy. "I wanted to know if what I bought with the price of my conscience was worth it."
"Was it?" Soldier Boy asked.
Crimson Countess shook her head.
"No. It never was."
Lu Ren opened the envelope and pulled out the documents inside. On top was a photo—a baby, lying in an incubator, covered in tubes and electrodes. On the back of the photo was a line of text: "Subject One, 6 hours after birth, compound v purified version injection complete, all vital signs normal."
The baby's face was wrinkled, and no distinguishing features could be seen.
But Lu Ren knew who this baby would become when it grew up.
He put the photo back into the envelope.
"Thank you." He said.
"Don't thank me." Crimson Countess put on her reading glasses and picked up the book on the coffee table. "I did this for myself, not for you. I owed myself an answer."
She opened the book and stopped looking at them.
Soldier Boy stood in place, looked at her for a few seconds, then turned and walked toward the door.
"Let's go." He said.
The three of them walked out of the cabin and returned to the gravel road. Twilight had completely settled in, and only a sliver of dark red light remained on the horizon. The crows on the roof of the barn in the distance were gone; they had probably returned to their nests.
Kimiko started the car, the roar of the engine sounding especially abrupt in the quiet countryside.
Soldier Boy sat in the back seat and closed the door.
Lu Ren sat in the passenger seat and glanced back at him.
There was no expression on the old man's face.
But his hands were trembling. It wasn't the trembling of old age and frailty, but rather the kind—the kind where muscles start to spasm from clenching a fist too tightly.
The headlights turned on, illuminating the darkness ahead on the gravel road.
Kimiko shifted into reverse, backed the car from the gravel road onto the main road, then turned around and drove south.
The white cabin behind them grew more and more distant, the warm yellow light from the windows getting smaller and smaller, until it finally disappeared behind the dark hillside.
No one in the car spoke.
Soldier Boy's hand was still trembling.
Lu Ren pulled the photo of the baby out of the envelope, took one more look at it, and then put it back.
On the distant horizon, the last sliver of dark red light also vanished.
---
After returning from Maine, Lu Ren had been at the base for less than an hour when Butcher called everyone together.
"Translucent has been found." He stood before the long table, hands pressed against the surface, his eyes bloodshot, but his tone was unusually calm. "Miami. Not South Beach, North Miami, an industrial district. He's hiding in an abandoned plastic manufacturing plant."
"Who told you?" Lu Ren asked.
"Victoria Neuman." Butcher said a name that made everyone go quiet.
"Victoria Neuman? That congresswoman?" MM frowned. "Why would she tell you?"
"Because she wants us to do something for her that she doesn't want to do herself." Butcher took a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket with an address written on it. "Translucent didn't just run off on his own. He stole something from Vought International and hid it in that factory. Victoria Neuman wants that thing."
"What thing?"
"She didn't say."
Soldier Boy, sitting in the corner, put down his beer bottle upon hearing this.
"You're talking about a woman who can make people's heads explode and has ties to Vought International. Now she wants you to go find something for her. And then what? You find the thing, give it to her, and what does she do for you?"
"She's helping us—" Butcher paused, "—deal with Vought International in Congress."
"You believe her?"
"I don't. But the information she gave is real. Translucent is definitely at that factory."
Butcher turned to Hughie. Hughie was standing in the corner, hands in his hoodie pockets, his face pale.
"Do you still want to go?" Butcher asked.
Hughie nodded.
"People will die."
Hughie didn't nod, nor did he shake his head. He just looked at Butcher, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"We move tonight." Butcher glanced at his watch. "Leaving at nine, operation at one in the morning. The plane is already arranged."
He walked over to Soldier Boy and looked down at the old man sitting in the chair.
"You're coming too."
"Why?"
"Because you're just sitting around anyway."
Soldier Boy glanced at Lu Ren, and Lu Ren gave a slight nod. Soldier Boy stood up and placed the beer bottle on the table.
"Fine. I don't want to stay in this dump anyway."
Chapter 34: Killing Translucent
Miami, 1:00 AM.
The industrial district in North Miami was like a dead city at night.
The wide streets were deserted, flanked by low-rise factories and warehouses, the graffiti on the walls appearing jarring under the streetlights.
A truck would occasionally drive along the distant highway, the roar of its engine amplified by the vast, empty space before fading away quickly.
The abandoned plastic factory stood at the end of a dead-end alley.
Most of the factory's sign had fallen off, leaving only the letters "Miami PLAST—", which looked like some indecipherable code under the streetlights.
Butcher parked the car two blocks away.
Six people got out of the car—Butcher, MM, Kimiko, Frenchie, Hughie, and Lu Ren.
Soldier Boy walked at the very back, his pace unhurried, like an old man out for a post-dinner stroll.
"Kimiko, you go in through the back door."
Butcher commanded in a low voice over the headset, "Frenchie, you're on surveillance and comms.
MM, you're with me at the front door.
Hughie, you stay behind us, don't get too close.
Lu Ren, you're in charge—if any Supes show up, that's on you."
"Translucent is a Supe himself," Lu Ren said.
"So you're his match."
Soldier Boy coughed.
"And what about me?"
"You watch. I'll tell you when you're needed."
Soldier Boy huffed, not arguing.
The inside of the factory was bigger than it looked from the outside.
The front entrance was a rolling shutter door, already rusted, with a gap of about ten centimeters between the bottom and the ground, through which a faint glimmer of light could be seen.
Butcher crouched down and shone his flashlight inside—it was the warehouse area, piled high with discarded plastic molds and semi-finished parts.
"The lock is new," MM said, pointing to the side door next to the rolling shutter, "It's not the factory's original lock."
"Translucent changed it," Butcher said, pulling a master key from his pocket, "Which means he plans on staying a while."
It took him less than ten seconds to pick the lock.
The side door opened silently, and a mixture of mold and the acrid smell of burnt plastic rushed out to meet them.
The warehouse was huge, about the size of a basketball court, with a ceiling over ten meters high.
The shelves against the walls were piled high with dust-covered plastic products—car bumpers, children's toys, disposable tableware.
A space had been cleared in the center of the warehouse, where a cot, a portable gas stove, a laptop, and several large cardboard boxes filled with documents were placed.
There was no one on the cot. The bedding was pushed aside, and it still felt warm to the touch.
"He just left," MM whispered.
"Search."
The six of them spread out, searching every corner of the warehouse.
Lu Ren scanned the entire building with his electromagnetic field—the first-floor warehouse, the second-floor offices, and the basement.
There was only one life sign.
In the basement.
"Basement, one person," Lu Ren pressed his headset, "Behind the stairs."
Butcher walked toward the entrance to the basement, a half-open iron door.
Behind the door were stairs leading down; they were concrete, with no handrails, and the walls had water stains.
"Translucent," Butcher called down the stairs, "Come out. Let's talk."
There was no response.
Butcher walked down the stairs.
Lu Ren followed behind, a small arc of electricity lighting up at his fingertips, illuminating the steps.
Kimiko walked in third, holding the folding knife—not the one she had used before, but a kryptonite-coated knife found at Dr. Vogelbaum's stronghold, its blade glowing faintly green in the darkness.
There was a lamp in the basement, hanging in the center of the room; the bulb was low-wattage and could only illuminate a small area.
Translucent was standing directly under the lamp.
He was finally no longer transparent.
It wasn't because his power had failed, but because he was covered in some kind of liquid, the reflection of which outlined his silhouette—a man of medium build, shoulders not particularly broad, a roll of fat around his waist, hair very short, his facial features blurry but their positions discernible.
He was wearing dark shorts and a T-shirt with the Vought International logo printed on it.
He didn't look like a superhero.
He looked like an ordinary man who had gotten fat during a midlife crisis, who just happened to be able to turn invisible.
"Butcher." Translucent's voice came from the mouth area of his silhouette, "How did you find me?"
"Someone told me you were here."
"Who?"
"Doesn't matter." Butcher stepped closer, standing in the shadows where the light couldn't reach, "What did you steal from Vought International?"
Translucent was silent.
"They sent me to get it," Butcher said, "You hand it over, and I can let you go."
"You can let me go? You don't call the shots." Translucent's silhouette moved, as if shaking its head, "And I didn't steal anything. I just took back what belongs to me."
"What thing?"
Translucent took a silver briefcase from the shadows behind him, placed it on the ground, and pushed it to Butcher's feet.
"My medical records," he said, "Complete, unmodified medical records from Vought International."
Butcher bent down to pick up the briefcase and opened it. Inside was a thick stack of documents; the title on the top page read: "Subject TR-01, Annual Health Assessment (Non-Public Version)".
"This tells me how much longer I have to live," Translucent's voice dropped, "The version Vought International released publicly says my health is 'good,' but this version says my organs are failing. compound v has caused a toxic reaction in my body; my liver, kidneys, pancreas—they're all slowly necrotizing. They gave me new V to suppress the symptoms, but that's just kicking the can down the road."
"How much time do you have?"
"Two years. Maybe three." Translucent's silhouette wavered under the light, "I'm thirty-seven now. I can only live to be forty, for fuck's sake."
The basement went quiet.
Hughie walked down the stairs, his footsteps very light, but Translucent still heard him.
"Who else is there?" he asked.
"You killed someone," Hughie's voice was trembling, but his tone was hard, "A girl named Robin. When you were phasing through the wall on the street, you went right through her. She died on the spot."
Translucent was silent for a few seconds.
"I remember her," he said, "I was chasing a robber that day. I didn't see her."
"You didn't see her," Hughie repeated, his voice suddenly becoming very loud, "You're a fucking superhero, and you didn't see a woman standing in a crosswalk?"
"I was—my line of sight was blocked."
"Blocked by what?"
Translucent didn't speak.
Hughie pulled a phone from his pocket and played a recording. In the recording was Translucent's voice, clear, indifferent, like someone reading from a script.
"—I don't believe this incident is my responsibility. I was on duty at the time, and my attention was focused on the suspect. The victim was in my blind spot. It was an unfortunate accident, not a crime."
"This is your statement at the Vought International internal hearing," Hughie turned off the recording, "You called Robin a 'victim' and her death an 'accident.' You never said one word of apology."
"I did."
"When?"
"In private. To the Vought International lawyers."
Hughie laughed. It was an ugly smile—his lips were trembling, there were tears in his eyes, but the corners of his mouth were curving upward.
"You said sorry to the lawyers," he said, "You fucking said sorry to the lawyers."
Butcher closed the silver briefcase and held it in his hand.
"Got what we came for," he said, "Translucent, you can go."
Translucent's silhouette stirred.
"You're really letting me go?"
"I gave you my word."
Translucent stood where he was, not moving.
"Butcher." his voice changed, "If you don't kill me, she will."
"Who?"
"Victoria Neuman. She knows I have this report. She won't let me leave Miami alive."
Lu Ren suddenly felt something.
Above them, on the first floor of the factory, people were moving around. Not just one person. At least ten, no, more. The footsteps were light but dense, like a swarm of rats crawling on the ceiling.
"Someone's coming," he whispered.
Butcher pressed his headset: "Frenchie, what's the situation out there?"
Chapter 35: Becca
Frenchie's voice came through the earpiece, accompanied by the static of electrical interference: "There are many people... coming from all sides... wearing black uniforms... I can't see clearly... I have to retreat—"
The communication cut off.
The basement lights went out.
In the darkness, someone opened the basement's iron door, and footsteps flooded down the stairs like a torrent.
"Everyone, don't move." A woman's voice, calm, clear, and devoid of any emotion, spoke: "This is a federal law enforcement operation. You are surrounded."
The lights turned back on.
The stairs were packed with people, all dressed in black tactical uniforms, wearing night-vision goggles on their helmets, and holding kryptonite energy weapons. They formed two rows, leaving a path in the middle.
Victoria Neuman walked out from the path.
She wore a dark professional suit, her hair tied in a bun at the back of her head, with no expression on her face. She walked down the stairs and stood in the center of the basement, her gaze sweeping over everyone present—Butcher, MM, Hughie, Kimiko, Lu Ren, and finally, Translucent.
"Hello, Translucent," she said. "Long time no see."
"Victoria Neuman." Translucent's silhouette tilted in her direction. "You're here to kill me."
"I am here to recover Vought International assets," Victoria Neuman corrected. "Including the documents you stole, and you yourself."
"I am not an asset."
"On Vought International's ledgers, you are." Victoria Neuman turned to Butcher. "Mr. Butcher, thank you for helping me find him. You may leave now. Leave the case."
Butcher held the silver briefcase, not moving.
"This is a deal between Translucent and me. He gives me the case, I let him go."
"Your deal is illegal."
"The things your Vought International does aren't legal either."
Victoria Neuman looked at Butcher, the corners of her mouth curving slightly—it wasn't a smile, but more like a confirmation after an assessment.
"You are very stubborn," she said. "I like stubborn people. Stubborn people usually know what they want."
She took a step closer.
"Your wife, Becca. You want to find her. Right?"
Butcher's expression changed.
"Where is she?"
"I can tell you. But not now." Victoria Neuman reached out her hand. "Give me the case. Then you and your people leave. Translucent stays. I will tell you Becca's whereabouts at the appropriate time."
Butcher's fingers tightened around the case.
Lu Ren walked to Butcher's side and said in a voice only the two of them could hear: "Give it to her. Now is not the time to fall out with Victoria Neuman."
Butcher glanced at him, then handed the case to Victoria Neuman.
Victoria Neuman took the case and handed it to someone behind her.
"Very good," she said. "Now, please leave. Translucent and I still have some things to discuss."
Butcher turned and walked toward the stairs. MM and Hughie followed behind. Kimiko walked behind Lu Ren; when she passed by Victoria Neuman, her hand rested on her kryptonite knife, her eyes fixed on the back of Victoria Neuman's head.
Lu Ren pulled her slightly.
They went up the stairs and walked out of the factory.
Victoria Neuman's people did not chase after them.
Outside the factory, Frenchie stood by the car, his face pale, a laptop tucked under his arm.
"Butcher," Frenchie said, "I just saw something on the monitor."
"What?"
"Victoria Neuman's people aren't all normal humans. There are a few—their movement speed is abnormal. They might be Supes."
"Victoria Neuman has her own team of Supes?" Butcherfrowned.
"Possibly."
Behind them, a dull thud came from inside the factory. Not an explosion, but that kind of—sound of a heavy object hitting the ground, or a body falling.
Hughie turned back, looking toward the factory.
"What about Translucent?" he asked.
No one answered.
A few seconds later, Victoria Neuman walked out of the factory alone, holding a tablet in her hand, and glanced in their direction.
Then she got into her car, and the motorcade disappeared into the night.
Lu Ren walked to the factory entrance and took a look inside.
The basement lights were still on.
Translucent lay under the stairs, motionless. His body was finally completely visible—not because he was covered in liquid, but because he was dead. After death, his ability seemed to fail as well; his body changed from invisible to visible, like a photograph slowly developing.
He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, face up, eyes open.
There was a very thin cut on his neck, almost invisible, but blood flowed out from there, pooling into a small, dark red puddle on the floor.
Victoria Neuman killed him.
Not with her head-popping ability—that would be too conspicuous. It was a knife, or some sharp object, clean, fast, and silent.
Hughie stood behind Lu Ren, seeing Translucent's corpse.
His face was very pale, his lips trembling, but he didn't cry.
"He's dead," he said.
"Dead," Lu Ren said.
"I don't know how I feel," Hughie's voice was very soft. "I thought I would be happy. But I'm not. I just feel empty."
Lu Ren patted his shoulder.
"Let's go."
They got into the car and left Miami.
Soldier Boy sat in the last row; throughout the whole process, he didn't say a word, nor did he ever get out of the car. He just sat there, watching the night outside the window, like a bystander unrelated to all of this.
When the car got onto the highway, Butcher's phone vibrated.
He glanced at it, then handed the phone to Lu Ren.
On the screen was a text message, sender number unknown.
"Becca Butcher, Virginia, Fairfax County, 1772 Maple Avenue. —Victoria Neuman."
Lu Ren returned the phone to Butcher.
Butcher read the text message three times, then put the phone back into his pocket, staring at the dark road ahead, silent for a long time.
Outside the car window, the lights of Miami gradually faded into the distance.
Some died, some survived, some found answers, and some began a new wait.
The sun wouldn't rise for a few more hours.
When they returned to New York, it was past 4:00 AM. The car had been driven all the way up from Miami, with two people taking turns driving, and they had only stopped once for gas along the way.
Butcher sat in the passenger seat, saying almost nothing the whole way, clutching his phone in his hand, the screen displaying the address sent by Victoria Neuman—Virginia, Fairfax, 1772 Maple Avenue.
Becca Butcher, his wife who had been missing for years, the victim of the Homelander rape case, Ryan's mother, lived at that address.
He had memorized that address. There was no need to look at the phone; it was already carved into his brain.
The car stopped at the entrance of the hideout, and the lights were turned off. Lu Ren pushed open the car door, and the cold wind rushed in, dissipating the stuffiness and silence that had accumulated in the car for over a dozen hours.
Kimiko jumped down from the back seat, stretched her shoulders, glanced at Lu Ren, raised her right hand, made a "I'm going to sleep" gesture, and then walked straight into the warehouse.
Soldier Boy was the last to get out of the car. He hadn't gotten out once during the entire trip from Miami, hadn't even opened the window, just sat in the last row with his eyes closed, not knowing whether he was sleeping or thinking about things.
When he got out, he glanced at Butcher, then walked to Lu Ren's side, lowered his voice, and said: "That mad dog wants to go find his woman. You'd better keep an eye on him."
After saying that, he also walked into the warehouse.
Butcher was still sitting in the car, having not turned off the engine. He rolled down the window and said to Lu Ren: "Get in, I have something to say to you."
Lu Ren walked around the front of the car, pulled open the passenger door, and sat inside.