"Alright everyone, please don't believe the rumors spreading online—"
Homelander didn't even finish the sentence before the crowd cut him off like a pack of starving dogs. Banners reading "Bring Out Translucent" and "Vought Lies" waved wildly under the gray New York sky.
The chant started low, then exploded in ugly unison:
"We don't want excuses! We want to see Translucent right now!"
"Yeah! We don't want excuses! We want to see Translucent right now!"
The roar bounced off Vought Tower's marble façade and rolled back at him like a physical slap. Phones were everywhere—hundreds of little black eyes recording every twitch of his face. Homelander's smile stayed locked in place, that perfect, toothpaste-commercial grin, but the muscles around his eyes had gone tight.
From the executive floor, Madeline watched the live feeds on her wall of monitors, arms crossed so hard her nails dug crescents into her biceps.
She'd seen that look in his eyes before.
She snatched her phone and hit Ashley's number. "Get down there. Now. Take over the mic."
Ashley's voice came back shaky. "Me? But he's already—"
"Tell them Translucent was on a classified mission. Deep cover. He just finished it today. He'll appear any minute. Sell it like your bonus depends on it—because it does."
"But how are we supposed to—"
"Don't waste my time with questions, Ashley. I'll handle the rest." Madeline hung up, already dialing another number. Her voice dropped to a cold whisper when the line picked up. "It's time. Get to my office. Quietly."
Thirty-five minutes later, Ivan stepped out of the private elevator into the Vice President's suite. The air smelled of expensive leather and Madeline's signature jasmine perfume.
"Please, sit," she told him, gesturing to the chair across from her massive desk without looking up from her tablet.
Ivan sat, legs crossed, the picture of relaxed confidence. He already knew why he was here. He'd been counting the minutes.
Madeline finally set the tablet down and studied him. "I liked all three of your plans, Mr. Greevs. Even though the first one backfired spectacularly, I know that wasn't on you. The internet's full of paranoid little shits with too much time. So I'm putting you in charge of executing the third option."
Ivan raised an eyebrow, playing his part perfectly. "You mean… find a shapeshifting supe?"
"No need." Madeline's lips curved. "I already have one."
The side door to her private lounge opened. Another Madeline—identical down to the sharp bob, the tailored skirt suit, even the tiny scar above her left eyebrow—stepped into the room.
Ivan widened his eyes as he leaned forward, gaze darting between the two women like a man watching a magic trick that had just gotten too real. "Holy shit. They're exactly the same. I couldn't tell which one is real even if my life depended on it."
"That's the point," the Madeline at the desk said, smiling with real satisfaction this time.
The other one began to change. It was grotesque and beautiful at once. Skin rippled like water disturbed by a stone. Cheekbones sank, jaw widened, shoulders broadened and softened with fat.
The expensive suit melted and reformed into a cheap off-the-rack button-down. In under ten seconds, a chubby, slightly overweight man with thinning hair and a sleazy, knowing grin stood where the duplicate had been.
"Nice to meet you, sir," Doppelganger said, voice thick with New Jersey street accent. He offered a pudgy hand.
"The rest is on you two. Make this mess disappear quickly. I don't want another trending topic by tonight."
She waved them off without another glance, like they were interns sent to fetch coffee.
Out in the corridor, Ivan clapped Doppelganger on the shoulder a little too hard. "Having you on board makes this easy as hell. I prefer talking business over dinner. There's a solid three-star place in Midtown. I can book a private room. My treat."
Doppelganger's grin turned flirty. He gave a little sway of his hips that was pure performance. "Don't worry, honey. I'll be there on time."
"..."
Watching the man walk away, Ivan felt that familiar itch under his skin—the urge to reach out and rip something apart. Just like that rubber-skinned freak Ezekiel, this one swung both ways and wasn't shy about it.
Ivan didn't give a fuck who people fucked. But the second they looked at him like a piece of meat, the switch in his head flipped. Still… useful was useful. He swallowed the disgust and smiled.
Evening came, wet and cold over the city. Ivan was already seated in the private dining room when Doppelganger walked in right on time, cheeks flushed from the wind.
"Sorry if I kept you waiting," he said, pushing the heavy door shut behind him.
"Right on schedule. Sit down."
Ivan glanced at his watch, then at the man across the table. They stayed quiet while the waiter brought wine, appetizers, and finally the main courses. Only after the server left and the door clicked shut did Ivan speak.
"For the PR plan, I need full details on your powers. How long can you hold a form? Is it permanent until you switch, or is there a time limit?"
"Maximum twenty-four hours," Doppelganger answered, mouth half-full of steak. "After that, if I don't change, I can still go back to the previous form. Pretty flexible."
"Decent ability." Ivan took a slow sip of wine. "Later I'll give you Translucent's login. You're going live to answer some fan questions. Keep the stream under three minutes. The more you talk, the higher the chance you slip up. You've been working for Madeline long enough. I assume you're good at pretending."
Doppelganger's relaxed face snapped into shock. "How the fuck do you know that?"
"I know a lot more than you think," Ivan said calmly. He set down his knife and fork with deliberate care and looked straight at him. "I want every piece of dirt Madeline has on people. Don't tell me you don't keep backups. Smart guys always leave themselves an exit."
"What the hell do you want?!" Doppelganger shot up from his chair so fast it scraped loudly against the floor. "Aren't you scared Madeline will have Homelander rip you apart?"
He looked ready to bolt for the door.
"Relax," Ivan said softly. "Check your pant leg."
Doppelganger froze. He glanced down. A thin, snake-like tendril—black and glistening—had already wrapped around his calf like a living vein. Before he could scream, it stabbed straight through his skin with a wet pop.
"Arrrrrggg!" The pain was immediate and vicious. He felt it burrowing deeper, slithering up through muscle and tissue, heading straight for his heart.
He ripped his shirt open in blind terror, staring at the grotesque two-centimeter-wide bulge moving under the skin of his stomach, inching higher.
"Stop! Stop it! I'll give you everything! All of Madeline's dirt, every last file!" His voice cracked, tears spilling down his cheeks. Nobody stays cool when death is crawling inside their chest like a living parasite.
Ivan took a slow, savoring sip of his pale gold wine, then drained the glass. He stood, walked around the table, and held the empty glass in front of Doppelganger's sweating face.
"Forgot to mention," he said pleasantly, "that thing inside you explodes. Just like this."
He let the glass drop.
It shattered on the hardwood with a loud crack.
At the exact same instant, several tiny steel needles punched outward from inside Doppelganger's gut. The man screamed, doubling over and dropping to one knee in front of Ivan like he was praying.
"Fuck you!" he gasped, blood already soaking through his shirt.
"Relax, I was just joking," Ivan said lightly. He pulled the steel spikes back in with a wet, sucking sound and helped the trembling man to his feet like a perfect gentleman. "Do what I say and I'll keep you safe. Your power's too useful. Perfect for gathering intel… or setting people up."
"I'll do it! Just get this fucking thing out of me!" Doppelganger wheezed, sweat pouring down his face. He knew Ivan wasn't bluffing. One wrong move and he'd be dead before he hit the floor.
"Sorry," Ivan replied, picking up the discarded shirt and handing it over. "It's already fused with your tissue. Even if you ran to every hospital in the city, they wouldn't find a trace of it."
___
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Read 12 Advance Chapters—P@t- Captain69