The news of the establishment of S.H.I.E.L.D. did not occupy even a corner of the public newspapers.
It was like a ghost born in the shadows of the post-war era.
"Boss, according to the personnel transfer and budget approval documents stolen from The Pentagon, the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division officially opened its doors three days ago."
Motoko Kusanagi's voice rang out.
"Howard Stark, Peggy Carter, and Chester Phillips are the co-founders."
"They have launched a secret talent recruitment program called Operation Paperclip."
A familiar name.
"Arnim Zola has been arranged to enter the S.H.I.E.L.D. secret research Base in New Jersey under the guise of a post-war scientific consultant."
Motoko added.
"He took away a group of former HYDRA scientists, totaling 112 people."
HYDRA never died.
It simply changed its skin, chopped off its own rotten head, and then drove its poisonous roots deep into the heart of the very organization that aimed to destroy it.
A backdoor listing.
Zola is using their shell to complete a perfect rebirth for HYDRA.
Lynn tapped his fingers lightly on the desktop.
Howard and Peggy Carter are excellent warriors and geniuses.
But they do not understand politics.
And they understand human nature even less.
They think the end of the war was achieved through courage and sacrifice.
"Let them be."
Lynn waved his hand.
"An organization that is rotting from the inside is easier to control. Find a way to have Professor Pyg contact Zola; I need to know the frequency of every breath HYDRA takes."
"Understood."
"Now, let's talk about something more important."
Post-war New York is recovering its vitality at an astonishing speed.
People need entertainment, they need Tittytainment, and they need to forget the trauma of war.
They need a spiritual totem even more.
"Motoko, acquire a few Hollywood film studios that are on the verge of bankruptcy, as well as a national radio and television network."
"I want Vought International to control the voice of the future."
"Understood."
"Guns can win wars, but they cannot win peace."
Lynn looked out the window, his voice distant.
"What wins peace are stories."
"Whoever can tell stories, whoever can make everyone believe in their story, is the true king of this era."
"I want to make a few movies."
"A movie about war and superheroes."
He took a stack of manuscript paper and a fountain pen from his drawer; they were several scripts he had written by hand over the past few days.
"Stars and Stripes Fury: The Glory of Soldier Boy
"Burning Freedom: The Rise of Human Torch
Captain America: Vanguard of the Avengers.
Motoko took the scripts and began to scan them quickly.
"War reports are waste paper written for generals. But movies are the bible written for the people of the World."
Lynn wants to use movies to reshape a "correct" collective memory for the people of the World.
"I understand."
Motoko nodded.
"The publicity department will launch a pre-heating plan. 'The Hero Behind the Hero,' what do you think of this slogan?"
"Very good."
...
Motoko's efficiency is terrifying.
In just one week.
Three Hollywood film studios that were on the verge of bankruptcy during the war, but possessed complete production and distribution channels.
The ABC radio and television network, which covers 40% of households in the United States.
Were quietly and fully acquired by Vought International through a series of complex offshore company operations.
The prototype of a media empire was thus built.
Lynn is not interested in the process.
He only wants the results.
When the project officially launched and all of Hollywood was shaken by it, Lynn's attention had already shifted to another matter.
Heroes cannot just live in movies.
The South Pacific, a private island secretly purchased by Vought International.
The scenery here is beautiful and isolated from the rest of the World.
Soldier Boy was lying shirtless on the beach, enjoying a sunbath.
Beside him, several blonde women in bikinis were attentively handing him iced cocktails.
The smoke of war had long since left him behind.
Until a helicopter broke this tranquility.
A Vought International executive in a black suit, escorted by several heavily armed security personnel and carrying a silver briefcase, came before him.
"Mr. Morris asked me to bring you a message."
The executive opened the briefcase, which contained a carton of the latest "Marlboro" cigarettes.
"He said, in peacetime, wars must be fought in a different way."
Soldier Boy raised an eyebrow and sat up from the beach chair.
He took the cigarettes and pulled one out; the blonde woman beside him lit it for him.
He was very familiar with these things.
Half a month later.
A billboard stood in the most prominent position in Times Square, New York.
On the billboard, Soldier Boy was wearing that dark green uniform; his face showed post-war fatigue and vicissitudes, but his eyes were still sharp.
He was leaning against the wreckage of a military jeep, with a Marlboro cigarette in his mouth.
The ember flickered in the dim background.
At his feet was a powerful slogan:
"A real man smokes real cigarettes." — Soldier Boy's Choice.
As soon as this advertisement was launched, it immediately ignited the entire United States.
Countless veterans and factory workers regarded Marlboro as a symbol of a tough guy.
They imitated Soldier Boy's posture.
In bars and on the streets, they lit up the same cigarettes.
As if by doing so, they could share in a little of the glory of that god of war.
Marlboro's sales increased fivefold within a month.
In Lynn's office.
Motoko was reporting the results of another plan.
"Boss, for the Vought International proprietary clothing brand 'V-Style,' endorsed by Human Torch, the first 'Flame' collection saw crowds queuing overnight at all offline stores to snap them up."
The well-produced TV commercial was playing on the screen.
In the commercial, Human Torch was no longer that weapon of war that burned everything to ash.
He was wearing a well-tailored black trench coat, walking through the streets of the city on a rainy night.
During his journey, a layer of gentle and bright flames would ignite on Human Torch's clothes to dispel the darkness and illuminate his surroundings.
The flames extinguished, but the clothes remained undamaged.
At the end of the commercial was a close-up of his flawless face.
There was a divine compassion in his orange-red pupils.
The slogan then appeared:
"V-Style, ignite your inner fire."
This commercial struck a chord with those young people who pursue fashion and yearn to be different.
They were no longer satisfied with their fathers' jackets and work pants.
They wanted something cooler.
More avant-garde.
Something closer to "God."
And Vought International gave them this opportunity.
"Very good."
Lynn looked at the jaw-dropping financial report, his smile growing wider.
Soldier Boy represents tradition, strength, and masculinity.
He harvests the vast blue-collar class and conservatives.
Human Torch represents fashion, the future, and divinity.
He harvests the trendy young people and the elite class.
Two "products," two tracks, precisely covering the entire consumer market.
This was his plan.
In times of war, they were weapons.
In peacetime, they are money-printing machines.
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