Under Jovian's coaching, the handful of hardened-criminal extras instantly became professional. It was like they'd brought their "nobody" roles to life—every expression, every unconscious twitch, made them look exactly like "patients" who'd just escaped Arkham Asylum.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat—
The assault rifles roared like they were venting, shredding everything in front of them.
"Hahahaha—!"
That shrill, manic laughter howled out madness, howled out power…
"Help! Somebody help us—!"
Amid the wailing of countless employees, a figure smashed through the ceiling above their heads. Dust billowed as he landed right in the middle of the criminals.
"Looks like you could use a little help."
He was tall, broad-shouldered, handsome—white skintight suit, a huge F on his chest, radiating pure freedom.
"Don't ruin our fun, you freak," the lead gunman snapped, glaring at the musclebound man who'd dropped from the sky as he raised his weapon.
Pop.
Before the gunman could even pull the trigger, the white-suited superhero blurred forward. In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of him—then casually bent the barrel of the gun with his bare hand.
"Shoot the hostages!"
Seeing his ruined barrel, the leader's eyes bulged. He roared the order at his men, ready to go down swinging and take everyone with him.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat—
The moment the command came, seven masked gunmen leveled their assault rifles at the counter and unleashed a crazed spray at the employees crouched behind it.
"Oh my God…"
"Someone save us!"
"I don't want to die…"
"Ahhh!!!"
One unarmed clerk after another stared at the gunmen's fingers squeezing the triggers. They covered their heads, faces drained of color—some screaming, some praying.
Boom!
And in that instant, time seemed to stop. The terror on every bank worker's face turned into frame-by-frame freeze-frames—
While the white-suited superhero who'd been facing the leader flickered again. In less than a heartbeat, he slipped through the gunmen and appeared in front of the employees, pulling every last one of them into his arms.
The next second, the storm of bullets slammed into his back.
Clink-clink-clink—
As the gunfire poured in, each round struck his back and kicked off a chain of sparks.
"Oh my God?!"
When the firing finally died down, every gunman just stood there, eyes blown wide. Their shock wasn't acting—this time they were genuinely stunned. In the past, when they "worked" with A-Train or The Deep, everything was special effects. This? This was a real body tanking bullets.
"Are you all okay?"
The white-suited superhero straightened up and flashed the employees a sunlight-bright smile.
"We're okay…"
The clerks nodded. Somehow, with Jovian here, they felt completely safe.
"Now it's your turn…"
The white-suited superhero turned back to the gunmen and smiled faintly.
Whoosh!
He became a streaking afterimage—then, in a single instant, every last gunman was hurled up into the air.
Thud-thud-thud—
A heartbeat later, they crashed down like dumplings dropped into a pot, twitching nonstop, faces twisted with pain and ugliness.
"Looks like the threat's been dealt with…"
The white-suited superhero glanced at the writhing gunmen on the floor, then turned his body as if preparing to leave.
"P-please… tell us your name?"
Right as he was about to go, the employees all looked at his back and called out.
"Heh…"
He paused and smiled.
"Call me Freeman!"
And with that, the white-suited superhero shot upward like a bolt of lightning.
Click!
After the director caught one last heroic flying close-up, he loudly announced the take was finished.
"How'd it look?!"
The white-suited superhero—Jovian—flew back down, walked up beside the director, and asked.
"Perfect! Jovian, I swear you're the most naturally gifted superhero I've ever seen. With my experience? You're going to be huge."
The director thumped his chest. He'd never seen a superhero with better camera presence than Jovian. If someone like this didn't blow up, then the universe wasn't fair.
"Listen to the tagline they wrote for you: faster than A-Train, tougher skin than Translucent— the superhero who surpasses everyone… tsk, tsk…"
"The last superhero who got hype like that was Homelander. I can't wait to see the day you light up America!"
The director rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing as he studied the promo copy in his hand. On the surface it sounded ordinary, but it was a signal: faster than A-Train, tougher than Translucent—meaning Jovian was stepping on two superheroes' shoulders to climb higher.
And that line about "surpassing everyone"… was that hinting he surpassed Homelander? It didn't say it outright—yet it also kind of said everything.
Clearly, Vought was planning to use Jovian's momentum to crack the old, rigid Seven hierarchy where Homelander was the absolute core. They wanted to reshape "Homelander and his six sidekicks" into "Homelander and Freeman Jovian—plus their five sidekicks."
Unprecedented. Innovative. And it also sent a message:
Pick the right side… and you might just be on the winning team.
Yeah—the director could already picture the future: fan camps led by Jovian and Homelander ripping each other apart online…
Of course, whether it was Jovian's fans who won or Homelander's fans who won, the winner would always be Vought.
Let the marks tear each other to pieces—Vought would just laugh all the way to the bank.
That was Vought. That was the company. That was America.
"No. I'm not going to 'light up America.' My brilliance is going to spill across the entire world."
Jovian patted the director on the shoulder, smiling as he spoke.
"…"
The director's pupils trembled. Purely in terms of ambition and worldview, Homelander and Jovian weren't even playing in the same league.
If Homelander was a boy who happened to get superpowers, then Jovian was a calculating, seasoned schemer…
"Looks like there's nothing to fight over…"
The director lowered his head. He understood it now. This "Top of The Seven" power struggle might end even faster than he'd imagined.
"Lights. Screens. And you need an audience…"
Jovian stared at everything in front of him, thinking quietly. Maybe his plan needed a slight adjustment. Sure, he could eliminate Homelander in secret—but it wouldn't have enough impact.
Under the lights. In front of the cameras. With the whole world watching. Right at the moment Homelander finally snapped and started slaughtering people—
Jovian would descend like a god, saving those brain-dead American civilians Vought had used and abused. With the suspension bridge effect doing the rest, he could destroy Homelander openly and cleanly—while harvesting a massive following that worshipped him as an all-powerful living deity.
That would rocket Jovian a huge step closer to his ultimate goal.
"Admiration is the emotion farthest from understanding…"
"No one cares what I truly look like. They only want the perfect version of me that exists in their fantasies…"
Once he'd thought it through, Jovian smiled and headed toward Vought Tower. He was going to have a little talk with Homelander—give him a nice, generous round of praise.
Yes—Jovian wasn't going there to start trouble.
He was going there to kill Homelander with compliments.
When you run into an idiot, don't try to stop him. Indulge him. Encourage him. Keep building him up—until he becomes an absolute, monumental idiot.
You don't fear a Freeborn with godlike power.
You don't fear a Freeborn charging around headfirst.
The only thing to fear… is a Freeborn who's actually read the villain's handbook.
And by coincidence—
Jovian had skimmed a bit of it.
Meanwhile, Starlight—newly chosen to replace Lamplighter in The Seven—had already arrived outside Vought Tower.
A welcome event celebrating Starlight joining The Seven was in full swing, louder by the minute.