Running from Himself 6 (Patreon)

"Man, this guy..." Reggie frowned at his own words, the speedster in the middle of taping up another box. "Old me had too much shit."

The apartment felt wrong, a cold museum for a life he never lived. Dozens of cardboard boxes sat in half-assembled super-stacks against that cold marble, brown squares holding someone else's highlight reel. Packing tape screeched off the roll, sound bouncing around the space loud enough to make him wince. Through those floor-to-ceiling windows, New York sprawled out below, indifferent as always.

He sealed another box labeled "Trophies," cheap gold awards clinking inside. His eyes looked over all them, not even a single twitch in his chest or brain as he looked at it all. Did A-Train not care about this shit that much? 

He definitely didn’t feel any of the same tension in his body as he put it away, not the way he had felt around his brother or Popclaw. He spent all his time running for it, but… 

Nothing.

No personal connection, not even a twitch.

Huh. Shaking his head, Reggie looked around the apartment, unable to help the fact that the place looked good. Can’t stay here after five, though.Which sucked.

He didn’t really mind that he had to be out of here today, not willing to deal with all the bullshit that came with it, but Reggie but could still appreciate the sheer luxury of the space. A universe away from that cramped first-year residency apartment he barely remembered from before.

All this, and he was still so desperate. A-Train clicked his tongue. So terrified of losing it he'd run himself into the ground. 

Something creaked near the entrance.

His head snapped up. Hearing was different now, a constant low-level superpower registering the subtle press of weight against the floor. His eyes narrowed as he looked over at it but the entryway sat empty, cavernous and echoing.

The frown on his face deepened, unease knotting in his gut. A near-silent rush of displaced air carried him thirty feet to the main door. Door’s closed… Reggie frowned, but these doors open super silent anyway. Leaning forward, the speedster scanned the hallway through the peephole. Empty.

"...huh."

He shrugged, unsure what exactly he was hearing then. Shaking his head, Reggie walked back to the mountain of boxes, just setting up a new one when a voice, casual and far too close, slid into the air right behind his ear.

"...What's goin' on with you?"

Every muscle tensed, fight-or-flight slamming through his system as he whipped around. No one there. Air shimmered for half a second, a heat-haze distortion that resolved into nothing. …fuck. 

Even if he didn’t know who it was, something inside of him recognized that voice, that same smug nasal edge with Jersey bleeding through.

Reggie relaxed his posture, the man letting out a slow, steady breath. "Translucent. What do you want?"

The air rippled again, and the man faded into existence, completely naked down to the asscheeks, leaning up against a stack of boxes like he'd been there all along. "Wan' to know what the hell is wrong with you?" 

Reggie snapped his eyes away, one hand over his line of sight. "Jesus, man! Put that thing the fuck away!"

Translucent gestured down at himself with a proud smirk that made Reggie want to take a shower. "What, not the firs' time you seen it?"

Oh, hell no. The implication hit him wrong, stomach churning at whatever history A-Train had with this walking locker room violation. Some memories he was grateful to be missing.

He bit back bile, hot and thick crawling up his throat. "Glad I don't remember any of those."

Reggie knew A-Train and Translucent had been friends before the Seven, close enough when they were younger from what he remembered Hughie mentioning in the show. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to know how close, still half-gagging as he pushed that whole tangent out of his head.

Nope. Not today. His eye twitched. Not ever.

Translucent pushed off the boxes, eyes narrowing. Lazy posture vanished, replaced by focused intensity that made the air feel thicker.

"So you're really stickin' with that story, huh? You lost your memories crackin' your skull on that fire hydrant?"

"Yes. Actually." He held the nude man’s gaze, keeping his own expression neutral. 

Translucent's voice pitched up slightly, cadence getting choppy. The friendly bro-tone evaporated, exposing something uglier underneath. "Fucking. Bullshit."

"I don't know what you want me to say, man." Reggie shrugged, turning back to his box with deliberate slowness. "The doctors said what they said. I'm just packin' my shit like I was told."

"I wan' you to stop fucking bullshitting me!" Translucent stepped closer, voice getting louder, P's and T's in his words hitting like elbows in a locker room. "People don't change like tha'. Losing your memory is one thing. Giving up forty million dollars a fucking year 'cause you all of a sudden grow a conscience? C'mon, Reggie. I ain't fucking retarded."

Yeah, but you are naked in my apartment, so...

The former pro-hero stopped taping, and turned around slow, as he tried to push as much bored, unbothered annoyance onto his face.. "Look, you want me to say I had a secret plan? That I was tryin' to blackmail Stillwell? That I'm fucking gay or something?”“I’ve seen you fuck,” Translucent interrupted with a frown. “You ain’t gay.”…ew. Reggie pulled a face, actual disgust forcing its way past the fake boredom. “J-just pick a fuckin’ theory, man, I'll say yes. Whatever gets you to put some damn pants on and get out of my apartment."

Translucent scoffed, sound wet and dismissive. "See, that's what I'm talkin' about. The old Reggie would be yellin' right now. Throwin' shit. You're just... calm. Too calm. Too smart, too. Reggie was halfway to a fucking tard on a good day."

Wow. Okay. "Sucks to be him, I guess."

"Again, right fucking there.” Translucent pointed a finger towards Reggie, a frustrated look of raw confusion clear on the super-voyeur’s face. “It's weird. It's fuckin' creepy is what it is. You're really fucking different."

A pervert and a genius. "Almost dying will do that to you. Gives you perspective." He turned back to his box, forcing his hands steady as he folded the flaps. "It is what it is, man."

Translucent stared at him, something shifting behind those eyes. "...Doppelganger, that you?"

Doppelganger… the fat bastard Vought uses for blackmail. Reggie shot the naked man a flat stare. "Doppelganger copy powers now?"

"...he might. Never asked."

"He hold a form this long too?" Reggie raised an eyebrow, playing into the paranoia because why not? Let him think whatever kept him from digging deeper.

Translucent clicked his tongue with a dismissive wave. "Whatever."

Reggie rolled his eyes and continued packing, deliberately ignoring him. Silence stretched, broken only by the squeak of tape and his own heartbeat getting faster. Translucent prowled the room, still naked, bare feet half-audible on marble. A few seconds later, the man picked up a framed photo of A-Train's first magazine cover, studying it before looking back at Reggie.

He's not leaving. This isn't a social call. What does he want? Sweat dripped down his back, cold as ice. Does he know about the bug? Does he know abo-

“Ayyy, A-Train…” Before Reggie could finish that thought, Translucent's voice shifted, becoming smoother, slower, a classic interrogator voice that made Reggie's skin crawl. "What do you know about that kid?"

Shit. Reggie bit his tongue, tape dispenser half-slipping in his suddenly sweaty hands. "What kid?" He didn't turn around, voice still as flat as ever.

"C'mon, man, don't play dumb,” Translucent drawled. “That kid. The one whose girl you turned into fuckin' street pesto."

The words hit him wrong, shoulders tightening before he could stop them. Street pesto. Jesus Christ. Reggiee forced himself to turn around, shaking his head as he let out a sigh. "I... I dunno, man. Met him for the first time today. When I signed the papers."

Translucent put the photo down, eyes scanning Reggie's face like he was hunting for gold or treasure or anything he was looking for. "That's it? You just met him? 'Cause I saw you two in there. Looked pretty chummy for a guy who just met the dude who pureed his girlfriend."

"Chummy?” Reggie almost laughed, almost. “I gave the guy a hug 'cause my lawyer told me it would play well if he sued. It was a photo op, man. You know how this shit works." Please buy it. Please just buy it and leave.

Translucent hummed, low and skeptical, sucking his teeth. Those eyes kept scanning, looking for something that wasn't there. Or maybe it was there and Reggie just couldn't feel it anymore.

"...Alright."

"We good?" Reggie raised his eyebrows, picture of casual relief even though his heart was still hammering. "You need to borrow a towel or somethin' before you go?"

Another hum, noncommittal sound that could mean anything. Translucent started walking toward the door, bare feet silent on marble.

"Be seein' you, Reggie."

"Same." I really, really hope not.

Translucent vanished a few feet from the entrance, air shimmering where he'd been. Reggie listened, enhanced hearing picking up... nothing. The door opened and shut, then quiet. 

No footsteps, no breathing, just silence.

He didn't trust it for a second.

He turned his back, picked up a box, and blurred it to the already too-tall stack on the other side of the room. Still acting for the invisible asshole he was certain was still there, watching him pack A-Train's life into cardboard squares. He worked in silence for five full minutes, tension sitting heavy in the room like humidity before a storm. 

Then he heard it; a soft footstep near the couch with his back turned. Dickhead.

He let out an exaggerated, annoyed sigh, not bothering to turn around. "Look, man, I get it, you're invisible, it's a great party trick. But you gotta learn to walk quieter. I can hear you from a mile away."

"I'll make sure to let Translucent know."

Reggie felt his heart stop as time stretched and snapped back. The speedster spun around, eyes going wide with pure, primal terror that hit him like ice water in his chest. 

Standing in the center of his apartment, impossible splash of bright red, white, and blue against monochrome decor, was the man of his nightmares, smiling that placid, terrifying smile, American flag of his cape draped perfect over his shoulders.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

"Hello, Reggie."