Chapter 5: [Secrets and Lies: Annie, Popclaw, and a Full Meter]
[System Message: Congratulations! Compound V acquired. Blood Meter: 40/100. Progress towards power acquisition is underway. Remember: the path to greatness is paved with questionable choices and a healthy dose of self-deception.]
"Gee, thanks for the ringing endorsement, System. You're really selling this 'path to greatness' thing. More like 'path to crippling moral ambiguity and a severe lack of sleep.'"
The ride back from the supe fight club was a lot less chaotic than the ride to it, mostly because I was nursing a rather impressive black eye and a throbbing headache. Butcher, however, seemed annoyingly invigorated.
"Told you you had it in ya, didn't I, Hughie?" he said, a smug grin on his face as he drove. "Got those vials, didn't you? See? You're a natural."
"A natural at getting my ass kicked, maybe," I muttered, carefully touching my eye. "And I think I dislocated something. Is that 'mettle,' Butcher? Because it feels a lot like pain."
"Pain builds character, mate," he retorted. "And character builds… well, it builds something. Now, about those vials…"
I clutched the two vials tighter. My V. My precious. This was the truly dangerous part. Using them. I knew the risks. The potential side effects, the addiction, the inherent instability. But the System's promise of power, of survival, was a siren song I was finding increasingly hard to resist.
"I, uh, I'll hold onto them for now," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "For… safekeeping. You know. Until we figure out what to do with them. Scientifically."
Butcher just grunted, but I could feel his gaze on me in the rearview mirror. He was suspicious. Always suspicious. He just didn't know what to be suspicious of. Not yet.
The next few days were a strange blend of clandestine operations with the Boys and increasingly awkward dates with Annie. The contrast was jarring. One minute, I was discussing the optimal way to surveil a Vought executive; the next, I was trying to pretend I didn't see the giant, blood-splattered ghost of Robin hovering over our milkshakes.
Annie. Starlight. She was the one true ray of sunshine in this perpetually overcast, morally bankrupt world. Her genuine goodness, her unwavering optimism, was a stark contrast to the cynical rot that was starting to fester inside me. And that made the lies I was telling her, the secrets I was keeping, feel like a lead weight in my gut.
"So, what exactly do you do, Hughie?" she asked one evening, over surprisingly good pizza in a non-descript Italian place. Her eyes, still wide and earnest, gazed at me with a trusting innocence that made me want to confess everything and then immediately run away to a remote cabin in the woods.
"Oh, you know," I said, trying for casual. "Consulting. Risk assessment. For… a very niche market. Lots of paperwork. And occasionally, I help my, uh, 'clients' retrieve certain… proprietary items."
She tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Is that what you call it? Because Billy Butcher doesn't exactly strike me as the 'paperwork' type."
My stomach dropped. She knew. Or she suspected. "Butcher? Oh, him! He's just… a casual acquaintance. We, uh, we play chess sometimes. He's very… intense about chess." Nice, Hughie. Real believable. Everyone knows Butcher's preferred board game is 'smash your face into a wall repeatedly.'
[System Message: Deception detected. Moral decay in progress. Keep up the good work! Your ability to maintain a facade of normalcy while pursuing power is commendable. Or terrifying. Hard to tell.]
"Oh, just shut up, System. You're not helping my existential crisis."
My internal conflict was a constant hum. The fan part of me adored Annie, wanted to protect her, wanted to see her happy. The Hughie-Prime part felt a deep, genuine connection, a longing for something pure in a world of corruption. But the New-Hue, the power-hungry monster the System was trying to create, saw her as both a moral anchor and a massive vulnerability. She was the one person I genuinely felt bad about lying to. And that, in itself, was a problem. Guilt was inefficient.
The investigation into Popclaw and A-Train's Compound V addiction was next on Butcher's agenda. For him, it was about exposing Vought's hypocrisy, proving that even their golden boys were junkies. For me, it was about one thing: the V. Popclaw's stash. The sweet, sweet nectar that would fill my meter.
"Alright, Hughie, your turn to cozy up to the celebrity," Butcher said, dropping a file on Popclaw's address onto my lap. "She's hooked on the stuff. Probably got a private supply. Find it."
"Me? Why me?" I asked, feigning reluctance. "I'm not exactly known for my dazzling charm with the ladies. Unless they're into awkward stammering and accidental groin shots."
"You're the civilian, aren't you?" Butcher grunted. "She'll never suspect you. Besides, you're the only one who doesn't look like he's about to kick a puppy."
I sighed dramatically, internally fist-pumping. This was perfect. A direct path to more V.
Popclaw's apartment was exactly as messy and depressing as you'd expect from a washed-up D-list celebrity whose only claim to fame was an unfortunate incident involving a cat and an alleyway. She was a wreck, strung out and paranoid. She also had an impressive stash of Compound V.
My heart hammered as I "comforted" her, trying to elicit information about her supplier, while my eyes darted around, searching for the tell-tale vials. She was a tragic figure, a victim of Vought's greed just like so many others. And I was about to exploit her. The guilt gnawed at me, a sharp, unpleasant sensation. But the hunger, the need for power, was stronger.
"So, where do you… get the V, Popclaw?" I asked, trying to sound sympathetic. "Is it from Vought? Or someone else?"
She sobbed, clutching a half-empty vial. "They don't care about us! We're just… products! They gave it to me! They got me hooked!"
I nodded, pretending to be outraged, while my gaze landed on a hidden compartment behind a loose brick in her fireplace. Bingo. A small, insulated box. My personal treasure chest.
"I understand," I said, my voice as soothing as I could make it. "It's not fair. You deserve better."
While she continued her tearful confession, I subtly reached for the brick. My fingers brushed against the cool metal of the box. Almost there.
"Do you ever… wish you could just… stop?" I asked, genuinely curious. The addiction to V, even in this fictional world, seemed terrifyingly real.
She looked at me, her eyes bloodshot and haunted. "Every single day. But then… then I feel weak. And I can't be weak. Not in this world."
Her words hit me harder than any physical blow. Not in this world. That was it, wasn't it? The core of it all. Weakness was a death sentence. And I was so, so tired of being weak. The guilt from exploiting her was still there, a dull ache, but the conviction that I needed this, that it was for my survival, hardened in my resolve.
I managed to extract the box while she was distracted by another wave of self-pity. Inside, gleaming in the dim light, were several vials. More than I expected. A veritable goldmine.
"I think I need to… use the bathroom," I mumbled, clutching the box. "A very… urgent… bathroom situation."
She waved me off, still sobbing. I darted into the bathroom, locked the door, and almost wept with relief.
[System Message: Compound V secured. Blood Meter: 100/100. Initiating power upgrade protocol.]
My heart hammered with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. This was it. My first full meter. My first random power.
A new mental screen popped up, cleaner, more formal than the usual sarcastic banter.
BLOOD METER COMPLETE!
NEW POWER ACQUIRED:
Metabolic Acceleration (Lvl 1)
EXISTING POWER UPGRADED:
Carbon Skin (Lvl 2)
BLOOD METER RESET: 0/200
"Metabolic Acceleration?" I whispered, a strange tingling sensation spreading through my limbs. It felt like my body was suddenly running at a higher RPM, my thoughts sharper, my reflexes a fraction faster. And Carbon Skin was Lvl 2. It felt… marginally tougher. Still not bulletproof, but maybe a really angry squirrel with a tiny hammer wouldn't bother me now.
The sense of power, subtle as it was, was intoxicating. It was like a drug, a sweet rush that drowned out the gnawing guilt. The hunger for more intensified, the 0/200 on the meter a glaring reminder of the next milestone.
I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. I had to get out of here. And I had to figure out how to explain my sudden acquisition of V to Butcher.