The fluorescent lights of Bryman Audio buzzed softly overhead as Hughie restocked shelves, his movements mechanical and his mind elsewhere. It had been three weeks since Robin's death, and returning to work felt like a cruel joke. Every corner of the store held memories of her – browsing vinyl records together, laughing at the outdated technology, planning their future during quiet moments between customers.
The bell above the door chimed, startling Hughie from his reverie. He turned, plastering on the fake smile he'd perfected for customers. "Welcome to Bryman Audio, how can I–"
The words died in his throat as he took in the scene before him. Two men stood just inside the doorway, their faces obscured by ski masks. The taller one brandished a pistol, while his partner clutched a duffel bag.
"Nobody move!" the gunman shouted, his voice muffled but unmistakably tense. "This is a robbery!"
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Hughie's heart hammered in his chest as his eyes darted around the store. There were only two other people present – Mrs. Kowalski, a regular customer in her seventies, and his father, Hugh Sr., who had come by to check on him during his lunch break.
"You!" the gunman barked, gesturing at Hughie with his weapon. "Empty the register. Now!"
Hughie's legs felt like lead as he moved behind the counter, his hands shaking as he fumbled with the cash drawer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father inching closer to Mrs. Kowalski, positioning himself between her and the armed men.
"Hurry up!" the second robber hissed, tossing the duffel bag onto the counter.
As Hughie stuffed crumpled bills into the bag, his mind raced. Where were the police? Surely someone had seen the masked men enter the store. Where were the superheroes? Wasn't protecting innocent civilians their job?
The bitter thought brought Robin's face to mind, and with it, a surge of anger. These were the people the Seven were supposed to protect – ordinary folks just trying to live their lives. And where were they now?
"That's everything," Hughie said, pushing the bag across the counter. "Please, just take it and go."
The gunman snatched the bag, but his partner seemed agitated. "Check the safe!" he demanded. "There's gotta be more!"
"There is no safe," Hughie lied, praying they wouldn't call his bluff. "This is a small business, not a bank."
For a moment, it seemed like they might believe him. Then Mrs. Kowalski let out a frightened whimper, drawing the robbers' attention.
"You!" the gunman shouted, rounding on Hugh Sr. and Mrs. Kowalski. "Old lady! Where's the safe?"
Mrs. Kowalski trembled, her eyes wide with fear. Hugh Sr. stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly. "There's no need for that," he said, his voice steady despite the danger. "My son's telling the truth. There's no safe."
The gunman's posture changed, tension radiating from every line of his body. "Don't lie to me, old man!" he snarled, leveling the gun at Hugh Sr.'s chest.
What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Hugh Sr. lunged forward, trying to grab the gun. There was a struggle, a shout, and then–
BANG!
The sound of the gunshot was deafening in the small space. For a heartbeat, nobody moved. Then Hugh Sr. stumbled backward, a red stain blossoming on his shirt.
"DAD!" Hughie's scream tore from his throat as he vaulted over the counter. He caught his father as he fell, lowering him gently to the floor.
The robbers, panicked now, fled the store. The bell chimed again, a perverse counterpoint to the chaos they left behind.
"Dad, oh god, Dad," Hughie babbled, pressing his hands against the wound. Blood seeped between his fingers, warm and sticky. "Someone call an ambulance!"
Mrs. Kowalski fumbled with her phone, her hands shaking as she dialed 911.
Hugh Sr. coughed, a wet, rattling sound that chilled Hughie to his core. "It's okay, son," he wheezed, reaching up to touch Hughie's face. "It's okay."
"Don't talk, Dad," Hughie pleaded, tears streaming down his face. "Help is coming. You're going to be fine."
But even as he said the words, Hughie knew it was a lie. There was too much blood, spreading too quickly across the linoleum floor.
Hugh Sr.'s eyes, clouding with pain, locked onto Hughie's. "I'm proud of you, son," he managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "So proud. You're stronger than you know."
"Dad, please," Hughie sobbed, clutching his father's hand. "I can't lose you too. I can't–"
But Hugh Campbell Sr.'s eyes had already gone distant, fixed on a point Hughie couldn't see. With a final, shuddering breath, he went still.
"No," Hughie moaned, gathering his father's body close. "No, no, no..."
The wail of approaching sirens filled the air, but it was too late. Hugh Campbell Sr. was gone, another victim of senseless violence in a world that seemed increasingly devoid of heroes.
As paramedics rushed in, gently prying Hughie away from his father's body, a cold, hard knot formed in the pit of his stomach. First Robin, now his dad – both taken from him in the span of mere weeks. Both deaths preventable, if only...
The thought trailed off, but something shifted inside Hughie at that moment. The grief was still there, raw and all-consuming, but alongside it grew something else. A resolve, hard as diamond and twice as sharp.
The world needed heroes – real heroes, not the glossy, corporate-sponsored frauds that paraded across television screens. And if the likes of Homelander and A-Train wouldn't step up, then maybe...
Maybe it was time for someone else to take a stand.
As he watched the paramedics cover his father's body with a sheet, Hughie Campbell made a silent vow. He would find a way to make things right. For Robin. For his dad. For all the ordinary people failed by a system that valued image over substance.
He didn't know how, not yet. He stood there, hands still sticky with his father's blood.