The fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor buzzed overhead, casting a sickly pallor on Hughie's worried face. He and Robin had spent hours in uncomfortable plastic chairs, waiting for news about his father. Finally, around midnight, the doctor emerged with a reassuring smile. It was just a case of dehydration and overexertion - Hugh Campbell Sr. would be fine after a night's observation.
Relief washed over Hughie like a tidal wave. He turned to Robin, who had stayed by his side throughout the ordeal, her presence a steady anchor in the storm of worry. "You should go home," he said softly, squeezing her hand. "Get some rest. I'll stay here with Dad."
Robin shook her head, a stubborn set to her jaw that Hughie knew all too well. "Not a chance, Campbell. We're in this together, remember?"
A wave of affection surged through Hughie. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "What did I do to deserve you?"
Robin's reply was cut short by a nurse approaching them. "Mr. Campbell? Your father's asking for you."
Hughie turned to Robin, conflict clear in his eyes. She gave him a gentle push towards the room. "Go. I'll make a quick run to that 24-hour shop we passed. Your dad will probably want something other than hospital food when he wakes up properly."
Gratitude and love mingled in Hughie's chest. "You're amazing. I won't be long, I promise."
As Hughie disappeared into his father's room, Robin made her way out of the hospital. The New York night enveloped her, the city's ever-present hum a stark contrast to the sterile quiet of the hospital.
The convenience store was just a block away. Robin walked briskly, her mind already compiling a list of Hugh Sr.'s favorite snacks. The sidewalk was relatively empty at this hour, just a few late-night stragglers and the occasional rumble of passing cars.
She was so focused on her mission that she almost missed it - a low, building roar, like an oncoming train. But there were no train tracks nearby. Robin paused, confusion furrowing her brow as she turned towards the sound.
In that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl.
A blue and red blur streaked down the street, moving at impossible speed. Robin's eyes widened in recognition - A-Train, the fastest man alive, member of the Seven. For a split second, their eyes met. Robin saw the panic in A-Train's expression, saw his mouth open as if to shout a warning.
But it was too late.
The impact was catastrophic. One moment Robin was standing on the sidewalk, and the next - nothing. No scream, no dramatic flying through the air. Just a horrific, wet sound and a spray of red mist.
A-Train skidded to a stop several blocks away, his momentum carrying him far past the point of impact. He turned, his face a mask of shock and dawning horror at what he'd done.
Back on the sidewalk, all that remained of Robin was a pair of shoes, still standing upright, and Hughie, who had just exited the hospital in time to witness the unthinkable.
The world around Hughie faded away. The sounds of the city - car horns, distant sirens, the chatter of late-night revelers - all melted into a dull roar. His vision tunneled, focusing solely on those empty shoes and the red smear on the pavement.
"Robin?" His voice was barely a whisper, disbelief coloring every syllable. "ROBIN!" The second cry was a howl of anguish, tearing from his throat with primal force.
Hughie stumbled forward, his legs moving of their own accord. He fell to his knees beside the shoes, his hands hovering uselessly over them, afraid to touch, to make it real.
People were gathering now, drawn by the commotion. Gasps and cries of shock rippled through the growing crowd. Someone was on their phone, presumably calling 911, but it all felt distant and unimportant to Hughie.
A shadow fell over him, and Hughie looked up to see A-Train standing there, his expression a mixture of panic and something that might have been remorse.
"I... I didn't see her," A-Train stammered, his usual cocky demeanor nowhere to be seen. "She just stepped out... I couldn't stop in time."
Hughie stared at him, uncomprehending. This was A-Train. A hero. One of the Seven. He was supposed to save people, not... not...
The reality of the situation came crashing down on Hughie with the force of a collapsing building. Robin was gone. Obliterated. And standing before him was her killer, stammering excuses.
Something broke inside Hughie at that moment. The shock gave way to a rage so intense it frightened him. He lunged at A-Train, a wordless cry of grief and fury tearing from his throat.
But A-Train was gone in a burst of speed, leaving Hughie grasping at empty air. He collapsed again, sobs wracking his body as the full weight of his loss settled over him.
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. But for Hughie, the world had already ended. As he knelt on the blood-stained sidewalk, clutching Robin's shoes to his chest, Hughie Campbell's ordinary life shattered into a million irreparable pieces.
In the days to come, as shock gave way to grief and then to a smoldering anger, Hughie would replay this moment over and over. The sound of that approaching roar. The brief look of panic on A-Train's face. The horrible, wet impact.
This moment would become the catalyst, the point of no return. It would drive Hughie down a path he never could have imagined, transforming him from an ordinary man into something else entirely.
But for now, as the red and blue lights of approaching emergency vehicles bathed the scene in an eerie glow, Hughie Campbell was simply a man broken by loss, kneeling on a New York sidewalk, holding the last remnants of the woman he loved.