The Viltrumite Across the Worlds Chapter 39: The Unlucky Ones

"My head’s... ssed up..."

The Deep was in agony. He rubbed his forehead. Jovian showing up had already made him miserable, so to cope, he’d gone to vent to his fish friends in the ocean.

And sohow, after venting, he felt even worse.

A dolphin that had crossed the ocean told him that sowhere overseas, people slaughtered more than a thousand dolphins every year.

What the fuck?!

Those dolphins were his friends! What were those idiots even doing?!

"Don’t spiral. Think about who you are," the therapist sitting across from him said, frowning slightly, his voice calm and strangely magnetic. "You’re a mber of The Seven. So think carefully—what can you actually do?"

"You’re right. I’m a superhero. I should do what I’m supposed to do. If I decide to do it, everything will get better."

Hearing that, The Deep regained his confidence. He told himself he was going to be a good person—do the things a superhero should do.

Elsewhere, at Vought Tower.

Hughie walked in under the guidance of Vought’s lawyer, tense from head to toe. He stared at all the people he’d only ever seen on TV.

All the admiration he used to feel for superheroes had evaporated.

All that was left was pain and anger.

"Mr. Hughie, please co this way," the Vought lawyer said gently, dressed in a sharp black suit as he watched Hughie hesitate in place.

"Uh... okay..."

The lawyer’s voice snapped Hughie out of his spiraling. Hughie shook his head, hurried after him into the elevator, and entered The Seven’s eting room.

"Mr. Hughie, A-Train will be back shortly. Please sign here," the lawyer said with a smile, producing the sa confidentiality agreent worth forty-five thousand dollars.

"Okay. Okay."

Hughie nodded. He picked up the pen and tried to focus—yet the pain inside him made his hand freeze above the paper.

"Excuse ... are you Mr. Hughie?"

Right as Hughie sat there gripping the pen, unable to decide, a voice cut into his thoughts.

Hughie looked up.

His pupils trembled.

The person who’d walked in was his enemy—soone he swore he’d never forget, especially that dark skin.

"Hahaha..."

"A-Train from The Seven is here."

The lawyer chuckled lightly, sounding almost cheerful.

"Mr. Hughie, about what happened to your girlfriend... I’m sorry," A-Train said, smug as hell, not a trace of real regret on him. "You know, I was chasing a robber. I couldn’t stop."

"A-Train..."

Hughie stood up. His head roared with noise. He wanted—so badly—to punch this bastard right in the face.

But his rationality... or maybe his cowardice... locked him in place.

"What’s wrong?" A-Train asked, eyeing Hughie’s silence. "You want an autograph?"

He genuinely thought Hughie was just like the fans he usually t—so excited he couldn’t talk.

"I..."

Hughie’s eyes sharpened. His heart hamred.

"Mr. A-Train, you’ve already apologized," the assistant beside A-Train said quickly, stepping in at the perfect mont. "You still have a lot to do."

"Fine!"

A-Train humd to himself and swaggered out of the room. In his mind, Vought had handled it—just like always.

"Hah... hah... hah..."

Hughie stood there, breathing hard, his thoughts a complete ss.

"Mr. Hughie?" The lawyer raised an eyebrow, unsure what Hughie’s condition was. To be honest, he’d seen diehard fans pass out in front of The Seven before. If Hughie collapsed here, it would beco his problem.

"I need the bathroom," Hughie said, face red, neck tight, looking at the lawyer. "I need— I need to cool off."

"Of course. But the agreent—"

The lawyer would’ve loved nothing more than for Hughie to cool off, as long as it didn’t interfere with his work.

"I’ll sign as soon as I’m back," Hughie said with a nod. He understood what the lawyer ant. The guy ate by this paperwork—Hughie wasn’t going to make it harder.

"Good."

The lawyer got what he wanted and shut up.

Hughie sucked in a sharp breath and hurried out of The Seven’s eting room, head down, heading for the restroom.

Smack—

He was moving too fast, too frantic, and he slamd into soone coming the other way.

"Whoa there, sir," the man said, voice amused. "Watch where you’re going. If I hadn’t reacted in ti, you’d have ended up as sothing you never, ever want to be."

Hughie stumbled back. Just as he was about to fall, a powerful grip caught his arm and yanked him upright.

"S-sorry. And... thanks."

Hughie lifted his head.

Right in front of him was a giant F—and an incredibly handso face.

"Sir," the man said politely, "you look like you’ve got the weight of the world in your eyes. Is there anything I can help you with?"

It was Jovian.

He’d tid it perfectly, colliding with this dazed little unlucky bastard at exactly the right mont.

"You’re..."

Hughie frowned, confused.

"The newest mber of The Seven—Freeman."

Jovian flashed that signature sunshine smile.

"Freeman..."

Hughie froze. He vaguely felt like he’d heard the na before.

"I... I need the bathroom."

Hughie shook his head. He didn’t trust Jovian at all. To be precise, right now he didn’t trust anyone in The Seven.

"Of course," Jovian said, raising an eyebrow as he pointed. "All the way down, then left."

"Thanks."

Hughie nodded and headed off.

Jovian stayed where he was, quietly watching Hughie’s back... and smiling.

Half an hour later, after a clumsy scramble of a ss, Hughie ca out, signed the papers, and left Vought Tower.

He felt strangely refreshed.

What Hughie didn’t notice—

Up in the sky, a man in white gear hovered among the clouds, holding a small round listening device between his fingers as he watched Hughie in silence.

Back at Vought Tower.

"I’m gonna save dolphins! I’m gonna save dolphins!"

Muttering nonstop, The Deep marched into Vought Tower.

"The Deep..."

Just as he was about to head upstairs, a voice stopped him.

"Huh?"

The Deep turned around—only to see the one person he least wanted to see.

"F-Freeman," The Deep said, forcing himself to speak. "Do you... need sothing?"

"I do," Jovian replied, hands behind his back as he stepped closer, looking down at The Deep from above.

"I— I have sothing I want to do," The Deep said, gathering courage. "I want to save the dolphins!"

"What the fuck?!" Jovian blurted, then imdiately corrected himself with an awkward pause. "Uh—sorry. I an... that’s a great idea. A really great idea."

He’d thought he misheard—then rembered this was The Deep, and suddenly it made perfect sense.

"But do you think the people upstairs," Jovian continued, pressing a hand onto The Deep’s shoulder with a smile, "I an Vice President Stillwell, or Mr. Edgar... do you think they’re going to care about ’saving dolphins’?"

"They..." The Deep hesitated.

Yeah. Saving dolphins didn’t generate a single penny for the company. Honestly, asking Vought to fund an aquarium and let him do dolphin shows every day would probably sound more "investnt-worthy" than flying overseas to rescue them.

"Look at you," Jovian said, studying The Deep’s troubled face like it was pathetic. "All stressed out."

As he spoke, he stuffed a small round listening device into The Deep’s hand.

"This is...?"

The Deep stared at it, confused.

"Just now," Jovian said quietly near The Deep’s ear, "that poor guy ca by—the one whose girlfriend A-Train ran straight through. He planted this damn thing in The Seven’s shared bathroom."

"You know how it is," Jovian continued, voice low and smooth. "Before you do anything, you need a little proof of loyalty. Bring the company sothing real, sothing useful—and then they’ll finally take you seriously."

"You’re sure you want to do this?!" The Deep’s breathing quickened as he stared at the bug in his palm. For the first ti, he felt... important.

"Of course," Jovian said, shaking his head like it was obvious. "Right now, in all of The Seven, who’s better suited than you?"

"Holander and Queen Maeve are too high-profile. Black Noir? He’s basically a super-agent. A-Train? Fuck, this whole thing is his ss—if you send him, he’ll probably screw up even worse. And Starlight’s still new. Not enough experience."

He made it sound like everyone in The Seven was the wrong choice... except The Deep.

"But..." The Deep still hesitated.

"Fine," Jovian sighed, looking disappointed as he reached toward the device. "If you don’t want it, I can just ask Black Noir."

"No!"

Before Jovian could take it, The Deep clamped his hand shut, gripping the round bug so tightly it hurt.

"Uh— I an, leave it to ," The Deep said quickly, emphasizing his status. "I’m a mber of The Seven too."

"Of course you are," Jovian said, smiling like sunlight. "Who says you aren’t?"

"Wait for my good news."

The Deep clenched the device, turned, and hurried out of Vought Tower.

"Good boy," Jovian murmured as he watched the sky darken—and watched that excited, washed-up, unlucky bastard disappear into the evening. "Don’t disappoint ."

As for whether The Deep could actually find Hughie?

Jovian didn’t even bother thinking about it.

The Deep had plenty of ways to find people—like asking goldfish in ho aquariums door-to-door.

Of course, that only worked if those adorable little seven-second-brain creatures still rembered Hughie.

Or, worst case, he could just rely on the universal law that unlucky bastards always seem to attract each other... and eventually stumble into Hughie that way.