In a room completely covered with metal foil, a place where no detector could find anything, was where Translucent was being held.
While not all of them, the vast majority of people with superpowers usually possessed far superior physical qualities—strength, agility, and durability alike.
Translucent was one of the best among them. He might not have the raw power of Homelander or Queen Maeve, but his carbon-based skin could still be called completely impervious to blades and bullets.
Frenchie and Butcher had tried everything—knives, guns, swords, axes, hooks, spears; armor-piercing rounds, electromagnetic projectiles, lasers, electricity, high temperatures, poison. Every single method had been useless.
If there were a discipline in this world called "how to deal with supes in a cost-effective and scientific way," then Frenchie would unquestionably be an expert in the field.
Finding a supe's weakness under limited conditions and then subduing or killing them was already second nature to him.
But as he stared at Translucent locked inside an electrified cage, even Frenchie found himself at a loss.
Electricity could hurt Translucent —but only to a certain extent. It couldn't truly kill him.
That bastard's carbon skin was as tough as a centuries-old turtle shell. With the crude tools the three of them had, there was no way to pierce it, let alone kill him.
Wait… a turtle?
A bold idea suddenly formed in Frenchie's mind.
Ignoring Hughie and Butcher, who were both at their wits' end, Frenchie walked into the chamber where Translucent was being held.
At this point, Translucent had already realized that they couldn't really do anything to him. He shouted abuse at anyone he saw—after all, it was only a matter of time before Vought found him.
Rather than being imprisoned by these people, it was more like these thugs had trapped themselves and were waiting to die.
With that realization, Translucent 's mouth became even harder than his skin. He had no idea that disaster was already looming:
"Look at you idiots, completely out of options! You should just let me go now. I promise I'll give you a quick death—and I won't even go after your families… AHHHH!"
Frenchie knocked him unconscious with a stun baton, then called in a confused-looking Butcher. They opened the cage door and began performing some very localized work on Translucent .
When Translucent slowly came to again, the only thing he saw was the three of them squatting in front of him, grinning maliciously.
"You're awake!"
If you can't break a turtle's shell, how do you kill a turtle?
Obviously, you avoid the shell and attack the soft parts inside.
So if Translucent 's outer skin was the shell, then where were his soft internal parts?
Butcher thought that only someone as deranged as Frenchie could come up with something like this.
With a reminder from Frenchie, the only idea Butcher himself had managed to think of was stuffing explosives into the Translucent 's mouth.
Frenchie immediately rejected that and suggested working from another angle, arguing that it would prevent the explosives from being vomited out.
When Translucent realized that several blocks of plastic C4 had been placed inside his body, the man who had always talked tough finally began to feel real fear.
At that moment, the balance of power shifted.
"So that's the situation. As for how it'll turn out, that depends on the situation," Butcher said, gripping the C4 detonator. He felt happier than he ever had before.
For the first time, he truly held the power of life and death over one of the strongest supes in the world.
"Now you tell us everything we want to know. If you don't talk, your ass explodes. If you lie, your ass explodes."
"I was wrong! Please! Don't kill me!"
Translucent had never thought this fast in his entire life. He suddenly remembered that Hughie had previously asked him about A-Train:
"I know A-Train killed your girlfriend! I also know some of his dirty secrets! Don't kill me—I can tell you everything… everything you want to know!"
Butcher's interest was immediately piqued. "Talk."
For him, it felt like a return to the good old days—back when he led a professional team dedicated to collecting dirt on superheroes and bringing them down.
If that team had to have a name, it would probably be called "The Boys."
"A-Train has a secret lover—it's that girl Popclaw! He thinks nobody knows, but I do! He goes to that bitch's place almost every day!"
As for how Translucent knew this, the answer was obvious. Anyone with invisibility powers would find it hard to resist snooping on other people's private lives.
And Translucent dared to spy on everyone except Homelander—including his own teammates. If he hadn't heard that the new guy also had super vision and hearing, he would have paid him a visit long ago.
"I know almost all the Seven's dirty secrets and private affairs! Don't kill me—I'll tell you everything!"
To be honest, Butcher was genuinely tempted.
Anything that came out of this guy's mouth was guaranteed to be authentic. All they needed to do was take notes, follow the trail, find solid evidence, and throw it out into the open.
At the very least, it would be enough to make Vought's stock price drop by 50 percent.
But Butcher knew they didn't have much time left.
---
"Does anyone know where Translucent went?"
Homelander, who had been about to say a few words, noticed that Translucent was absent from the morning meeting yet again. When he asked his teammates, all he got were variations of "no idea."
In everyone else's eyes, Translucent had probably gone off on another binge of sex, gambling, and drugs. What was there to worry about?
Unlike the other seasoned slackers in the Seven, Homelander didn't treat his superhero career as something to half-ass. He genuinely wanted to be a superhero.
At least in the public eye and under the spotlight.
Just look at these veteran teammates of his—alcoholics, addicts, shut-ins, a guy running an aquarium, and someone who skipped work regularly. At least the new kid seemed serious, sitting there with a notebook and carefully taking notes.
Or maybe not—
Through his super vision, Homelander realized that the kid was just drawing turtles in the notebook.
Homelander felt heartbroken. Just last night, he had worked overtime, sinking the entire family of the Baltimore mayor who threatened Madelyn over Compound V into the Atlantic Ocean. And now he still had to manage these salary thieves.
At this point, he finally understood that Vought's real internal threat wasn't outside the company—it was within the Seven themselves.
Still, the new recruit slacking off was actually a good thing. Homelander wasn't stupid; he knew exactly what the people on the top floor meant by planting someone with abilities similar to his own into the team.
But this newcomer was clearly too young. Just yesterday, he had publicly argued with Homelander's core fanbase during a live event. Someone filmed it and posted it on TikTok, and his already low approval rating dropped by another eighteen points.
If they really wanted to use this kid to challenge him, Homelander was confident that with decades of cultivated fan loyalty, he could crush the newcomer without breaking a sweat.
Meanwhile, Joey—busy drawing circles in his notebook—was thinking about where to even begin investigating Vought's filthy secrets.
It wasn't like before, when he struggled with having no leads. Now, there were simply too many places to start. After all, he was already inside Vought itself.
What was harder to guard against than an insider?
At this very moment, as Joey contemplated how to surgically eliminate the remaining remnants of the corrupt faction, even if you gave him ten times Superman's intelligence, there was no way he could have guessed the bizarre train of thought running through Homelander's mind.