The soft glow of the laptop screen illuminated Hughie's haggard face, casting deep shadows under his bloodshot eyes. The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly, marking the passage of another sleepless night. Empty coffee cups and crumpled energy bar wrappers littered the desk, testament to his obsessive quest for... something.
Anything to fill the void left by Robin and his father.
For days now, Hughie had barely left his apartment, diving deep into news articles about superhero incidents, public records of Vought International, and countless social media posts from people claiming to have encountered the Seven. What had started as a grief-fueled search for answers had morphed into something else entirely – a growing realization of his own powerlessness in the face of a system that seemed designed to crush ordinary people.
Hughie leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. The more he dug, the more he saw a pattern emerging. Incidents swept under the rug, settlements paid out to victims' families, a carefully cultivated public image that never quite matched the reality on the ground. But it was all circumstantial, nothing concrete enough to build a case on.
Frustration bubbled up inside him, threatening to spill over into rage. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. As he paced the small confines of his apartment, Hughie caught sight of his reflection in the window. He barely recognized the man staring back at him – unshaven, hair wild, dark circles under his eyes. But there was something else there too, a hardness that hadn't existed before. The soft edges of the old Hughie had been burned away, leaving behind... what?
His gaze fell on a framed photo of his father, taken at Hughie's college graduation. Hugh Campbell Sr.'s proud smile seemed to bore into him, challenging him to be more, to do more.
"I'm trying, Dad," Hughie whispered, his voice hoarse from disuse. "But I don't know how. I'm not... I'm not strong enough."
And there it was. The truth that had been gnawing at him since that fateful day at Bryman Audio. He hadn't been strong enough to save Robin. He hadn't been strong enough to protect his father. He wasn't strong enough now to do anything but rage impotently at his computer screen.
Hughie's hand clenched into a fist. This... this weakness, this helplessness, it couldn't continue. If he was going to find justice – no, vengeance – for Robin and his father, he needed to become more than he was.
With a newfound sense of purpose, Hughie returned to his desk. But instead of diving back into his fruitless research, he opened a new document. At the top, he typed: "Weaknesses to Overcome."
His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before he began to type, brutally honest with himself in a way he'd never been before:
Physical weakness - inability to defend myself or others Lack of combat skills
Limited knowledge of investigation techniques No resources or connections
Emotional vulnerability - prone to breakdown under stress Naivety about how the world really works
The list grew longer, each point a reminder of how ill-equipped he was to take on a corporation like Vought or heroes like the Seven. But instead of discouraging him, Hughie felt a strange sense of clarity. These were problems with solutions. Weaknesses that could be turned into strengths.
He opened a new tab and began to research. Self-defense classes in the area. Online courses in criminology and forensic science. Books on strategy and psychological resilience. With each search, each plan formed, Hughie felt something shift inside him, a spark igniting into a steady flame.
As the first rays of dawn began to peek through his window, Hughie stood and stretched. His body ached from sitting for so long, but his mind felt clearer than it had in weeks. Per usual, he walked to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face before looking up at his reflection.
"No more weakness," Hughie said to his reflection, his voice low but firm. "No more being a victim."
He didn't know exactly what he would become. Didn't know where this path would lead him. But as Hughie Campbell stood there, hands gripping the edges of the sink, he felt a change taking root deep inside. And one that was needed.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, its light spilling across the cluttered apartment. Hughie moved with purpose, clearing away the debris of his obsessive research binge. His mind raced with plans, each step forward feeling like a small act of defiance against the helplessness that had consumed him.
As he pulled on running shoes for the first time in months, Hughie paused at the door. He glanced back at the photo of his father, then at the empty space where Robin's picture used to sit. The pain of their loss was still there, a dull ache in his chest. But now it was joined by something else – a determination that burned steady and bright.
Hughie stepped out of his apartment, squinting in the morning light. The city stretched before him, vast and indifferent.
Hughie Campbell was moving forward. And that, he realized as he picked up his pace, was a start.