Translucent reached for his waist. Not for a gun—he rarely carried one, and it would be useless here. He pulled out his phone. He needed to see if Homelander had replied.
He watched Jude walk toward him, trying to make sense of the man. The thought had been bothering him since they entered the basement. Jude had manipulated a supe on Superman's level—someone who could threaten Vought's entire foundation—into infiltrating the company. He had convinced that supe to abandon public glory and a massive salary to work as a mole. Yet Jude's own record remained spotless. No prior incidents. No red flags. Nothing linking him to any covert operations.
That alone was a dangerous kind of power.
Jude knew he was being followed. He knew the exact mechanics of Translucent's abilities. He had dismissed Superman and intentionally led a Vought spy straight into the stronghold of a man trying to destroy the corporation.
Now Jude was approaching him, unhurried, unarmed, and completely ordinary. Translucent couldn't figure out his angle. Is he bluffing? Buying time? Or is his file wrong?
"Do I need power to beat you up?"
The words hit Translucent at the exact moment Jude did. Translucent had been tracking his steps, but suddenly a hand hovered inches from his face, fingers widened. It was as if the two meters between them had just vanished.
When—
Translucent lunged, grabbing blindly. His carbon skin absorbed all incoming force, and his raw strength meant he only needed to get his hands on an ordinary human once. He had just flattened Butcher. This would be over in seconds.
Jude shifted his footing. It wasn't raw speed. He simply relocated his weight. One clean change in direction, then another. His body slipped perfectly through the gap in Translucent's reach.
Translucent grabbed empty air.
Jude stepped inside his guard, eliminating any space to throw a punch. One hand clamped onto Translucent's shoulder. The other seized his wrist.
Translucent felt the pressure. It didn't bounce off his carbon skin like Butcher's bullets. Jude's fingers didn't strike the surface. They dug into the joints, wedging into the natural seams every body needs to bend and move. The leverage bypassed the hardened shell and targeted what lay underneath.
"The skin's defenses can't cover the bones," Jude said.
The snap was sharp and loud in the small room.
Translucent hadn't felt this in over a decade. His invulnerability had turned pain into a foreign concept—something that happened to regular people. He had forgotten what it felt like for his own body to break.
The memory returned in a rush.
His entire body locked up. The agony from his bone marrow spiked into his brain. His vision flashed white, faded to black, and slowly readjusted to the dim basement light. He was on his knees. His arm hung at a wrong angle.
"That hurts," Jude said from above. "Probably a lot."
Translucent looked up. The single bulb cast Jude in heavy silhouette, masking his face.
"When your skin stops taking damage, you forget what pain is. Your nervous system treats it like an abstract idea." Jude paused. "My guess is you haven't felt this in at least ten years."
The heat rising in Translucent's chest drowned out any remaining logic. The taunt amplified the pain and silenced the cautious instincts that had kept him alive this long. He abandoned the idea of retreating.
He lunged.
Jude felt a slight sting of hesitation.
He didn't usually fight like this. The psychological warfare—adjusting words to provoke a blind, irrational strike—wasn't his own invention. He had picked it up in Gotham. He had sought out the most experienced fighter in that city, knowing the best techniques belonged to the person who fought the widest variety of opponents. The answer had been entirely predictable.
Batman had a lot to teach. Jude was comfortable with most of it. Other methods he used sparingly, knowing they felt dirty.
Well, he thought, watching Translucent charge without a plan, they work.
"You have no real close-combat foundation," Jude said. He stepped offline, dodging the first grab, and drove an elbow down into Translucent's wrist. "Your invisibility is a reflex, not a tactic. You've never actually had to fight your way out of a corner." He slipped to the outside. "Your best skill is hiding. Everything else relies on the physical perks of being a supe."
Jude trapped the elbow joint. The joint popped.
"Your powers made you terrified of pain, instead of teaching you how to work through it. You've relied on them so long you stopped developing anything else."
Jude kicked out Translucent's knee.
Translucent stumbled, losing his balance. His joints were still intact—Jude was measuring his force to disable, not shatter—but the damage was severe enough to cripple him. Jude twisted the other wrist. Then the ankle.
Jude fell into a calculated rhythm. It mirrored what he had watched from a Gotham rooftop: a man in a cape dismantling a crowd with one priority. Maximum incapacitation. Minimum time. The exact strikes were different, but the philosophy was the same. Do exactly enough damage to end the threat, and no more.
The anger in Translucent's expression melted into panic.
He had watched Butcher fight earlier. Butcher was battered, broken, and completely outmatched, yet he still threw a headbutt and fought until he couldn't stand. Translucent didn't have that endurance. His powers had protected him for so long that the man beneath the skin had gone soft.
Jude noted the shift in demeanor. Translucent was a voyeur and a corporate spy, but he didn't require a permanent injury. A thorough demonstration was enough.
To Translucent, however, being systematically dismantled by an ordinary human who never once lost his composure was terrifying. There was nothing ordinary about it.
"Stop. Stop. I give up." Translucent curled on the floor, holding his arms to his chest.
Jude stepped back. He crossed the basement to Butcher, who was slumped against the wall, breathing shallowly. Jude pulled a small, wrapped candy from his pocket—Horn of Plenty produce—and crouched beside him.
Butcher stared at the candy. "Is this your superpower?" he asked. His voice was hoarse. "Kung fu. That's it."
"You're much easier to talk to when you stop trying to be intimidating."
Jude unwrapped the candy and pressed it into Butcher's palm. The Horn of Plenty produces accelerated biological healing in a way modern science couldn't replicate. It worked within certain limits, but Butcher's injuries fell safely inside them.
"Where did you learn that?" Butcher asked.
"It's a standard skill. Nothing powered about it." Jude stood up. "And that's a stereotype. Not everyone from my part of the world knows martial arts."
"Then what was that?"
"Something I picked up from someone. If you saw him fight, you'd understand what humans are actually capable of." Jude held out his hand. "Come on."
He pulled Butcher to his feet, turned, and walked toward the stairs.
When Jude returned, he held a phone. It wasn't his.
He tilted the screen so Translucent could see the messages app. Two outgoing texts sat on the screen, accompanied by the red icon indicating failure to send.
"The signal didn't go through," Jude said. "Homelander won't come."
Translucent stared at the screen. The last trace of defiance left his face.