Juárez, Mexico.
The scorching sun baked the earth, the air thick with the stench of burning metal.
"Damn it! What the hell are those things? Laser cannons?!"
The city-level hero Bulletproof crouched behind a pickup truck riddled with holes, his face smeared with dust and soot.
Despite his name, those Chitauri-modified weapons hurt like hell—and worse, they were burning straight through his outrageously expensive custom suit.
Beside him, another hero— Nature Girl, capable of controlling plant life—pressed her palms to the ground, trying to summon vegetation from below.
The soil was far too dry.
Only a few withered yellow roots poked out before dying again.
Across from them stood a fortified concrete stronghold.
Dozens of armed militants wielding illegally modified alien weapons had formed a deadly crossfire, pinning the Vought hero squad so tightly they couldn't even lift their heads.
"Should we call for backup?!" Nature Girl shouted.
"V.G.D.'s rapid response team needs at least twenty minutes!"
"Twenty minutes?!" Bulletproof barked.
"By then we'll be taco filling!"
He grit his teeth and slammed his thumb onto a red button on his tactical wristband.
"This is Bulletproof, callsign V-172. We're under heavy fire. Coordinates uploaded. Requesting… 'Divine Punishment' strike."
A gentle female voice responded in his earpiece.
"Identity confirmed, Bulletproof. Based on your location and threat level, we recommend Orbital Kinetic Strike service.
Single-use cost: two million dollars. Please confirm payer."
"Bill Juárez City Hall! Or charge my mission allowance! Just do it—now!"
"Payment confirmed. Target locked. Impact in five seconds.
Have a pleasant day."
Five.
Four.
Three.
Bulletproof grabbed Nature Girl's head and shoved it down.
"Down! Cover your ears!"
Two.
One.
High above, aboard a hovering Helicarrier, several barrels in the antimatter cannon array adjusted their angles.
Hexagonal muzzles glowed an eerie blue.
Subsonic vibrations and high-frequency shrieks ripped through the clouds—
And then—
"HUMMMMMMMMM—!!!"
Sound vanished.
The reinforced concrete bunker—and the dozens of militants inside—were erased in an instant.
Reduced to dust.
The ground convulsed.
The shockwave tore every cactus from the soil.
When the light faded, all that remained was a twenty-meter-wide crater, molten magma still flowing along its edges.
Bulletproof brushed dust off his shoulders, stood up, and whistled.
"Damn. That's satisfying."
He flipped the smoking ruins the middle finger, then turned to the arriving drone camera and flashed a professional smile.
"As you can see, criminal activity has been neutralized.
Vought—making the world safer."
"This operation was proudly sponsored by Osborn Biotech."
"Osborn Technology. Evolution is a choice."
One post-mission tagline.
Value: one million dollars.
…
And this—
Was just a single snapshot of what was happening worldwide.
Since Vought took control of the Insight system, the mass-kill machine originally designed for global purges had transformed into the most efficient—and most popular—commercial security service on Earth.
Vought struck while the iron was hot and launched a revolutionary app:
Ding-Dong Rescue.
Clean interface.
Idiot-proof operation.
One tap, and you could choose:
Standard Hero Dispatch — catch a thief, rescue a cat.
Elite Hero Strike Team — deal with terrorists or armed militants.
Even if you were in Antarctica facing a penguin uprising—as long as you could pay, a supersonic Quinjet carrying fully armed superheroes would arrive within thirty minutes.
And if the situation was really urgent?
After a rapid backend review, the Helicarrier's antimatter cannons would arrive first—
To deliver physical salvation.
"Justice from the skies!"
TIME Magazine ran Antony on its cover, standing on a Helicarrier deck with Earth behind him.
That was the headline.
Under this brutally efficient saturation-strike model, even Gotham's Joker would need to apply for a driver's license before daring to commit a crime.
…
Ironically, the Super Seven became the laziest heroes on the planet.
Because they were no longer needed.
Any criminal who dared pop up barely had time to finish a villain monologue before being vaporized from orbit or subdued by second-tier heroes on the ground.
So to maintain the Super Seven's popularity, Ashley went all-in.
Movies.
Variety shows.
Commercials.
In short—
Full-time celebrities.
-----
Hollywood. Vought Studios.
In front of a green screen, Jewel floated in midair wearing her purple battle armor, her face screaming existential despair.
"Great! Jewel! More pain!" the director yelled through a megaphone.
"You've lost the love of your life—but you must live on for the world! I need that broken, resilient look!"
"Broken my ass…" Jessica muttered under her breath.
"Cut! Perfect!" the director shouted, ecstatic.
"That disdain for fate—chef's kiss! Next scene, prepare for the kiss!"
"What?!" Jessica's eyes went wide.
"There's no kissing scene in the script!"
"Oh, that was added just now," the director said with a greasy grin.
"Sponsors feel you and Homelander have amazing chemistry. The audience wants it. Don't worry—Homelander isn't here, we'll use a stand-in and composite it later—"
"Composite your mother!" Jessica snapped.
"I'm not kissing a stand-in!"
She slammed down onto the floor.
"I'm done! I'm going drinking!"
She stormed off set, leaving a crew of stunned staff behind.
-----
In another studio—
Angelica lazily juggled a fireball while watching the makeup artist retouch Pietro.
"We're superheroes, not supermodels," she complained.
"I've shot shampoo commercials for three straight weeks. My hair smells like perfume marinade."
"Be grateful, hot stuff," Pietro smirked at his reflection.
"I filmed a running-shoe ad yesterday. Two laps, one line—'Fast as lightning.' Two million dollars. Easiest money ever."
"You've changed, Pietro," Angelica sighed.
"You used to have that… rebellious streak."
"Rebel against who? Franklin?" Pietro laughed.
"Come on—he's adorable."
He glanced at the Patek Philippe on his wrist.
"And besides—I've got more important things now."
"Like what?"
"Tony invited me to Monaco to watch F1."
Pietro stood, patted Angelica on the shoulder, and grinned.
"This is life, Angelica."
"Enjoy it."
--------------
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