"That's it. Let's see what this thing can do at full power," Ivan said, clamping his hand around the rubber dummy's head. A blinding burst of deep blue light exploded from his palm.
The dummy's skull melted instantly, dripping down in thick, gooey strands while black smoke curled upward.
The destructive force had more than doubled.
The price? The eyeball he'd spent four straight days crafting was completely fried.
"Looks like I need to stockpile a fresh batch of eyes before I dive into the next fantasy world," Ivan muttered.
"Fusion's still only at three percent anyway." The ruined eyeball popped out of his palm on its own. The raw wound sealed shut in a couple of breaths.
...
Meanwhile, The Deep's ocean documentary had wrapped without a hitch.
The second it dropped, the thing detonated across the internet. Vought poured gasoline on the fire, and the results blew even Madeline's expectations out of the water.
In just two days The Deep's popularity shot straight up, rocketing past A-Train and Starlight to snag third place in The Seven.
The numbers kept climbing with zero signs of slowing down. At this rate he looked ready to overtake Queen Maeve and Homelander themselves.
Maeve and Homelander were still bleeding support after that plane crash fiasco. Their approval ratings had taken a massive shit, and nothing they did could match the sudden rocket fuel under The Deep.
On top of that, word on the street was that the Academy was seriously considering his documentary for the Oscar shortlist.
Reason?
It actually felt raw and real, and it hammered the ocean pollution angle hard enough to make people uncomfortable.
These days if your movie didn't have some preachy, finger-wagging "think about the planet" bullshit, the Oscars wouldn't even wipe their asses with it.
...
Vought Tower. Vice President's office.
Madeline's phone wouldn't stop ringing.
"Yes, what is it… You want The Deep to appear in your film? For the environmental message? Hold on—you're making a goddamn mecha-monster movie, right?"
"Monsters can be the result of environmental pollution too. Yeah, that actually makes sense. Talk it over with Vought's operations team. As long as the appearance fee is right, we've got no problem with it."
Dozens of those calls had already flooded in since early morning. Madeline's old face was practically split open from grinning so hard.
Ever since the plane crash, Vought had been treated like a plague rat. Everyone crossed the street to avoid them, terrified of catching the stink.
But the world runs on money, especially in the US of A. Suddenly everyone wanted a piece of the action again.
While Madeline was over the moon, Homelander sat in The Seven's conference room looking like he wanted to murder someone.
The Compound V mess on top of his popularity nosedive had him in a foul fucking mood.
...
"Ashley's gone too far this time," Baruch said, fuming. "The Deep project was yours from the jump. Everyone in the company knows it. And what does she do? Swoops in the second it starts paying off and steals it. If it was me, I'd lose my shit."
He expected Ivan to join in and rip Ashley a new one. Instead Ivan just sat there sipping his coffee like the guy who'd had the win ripped out of his hands wasn't him.
"You know who gets fucked hardest at Vought, mate?" Baruch kept going before Ivan could answer. "The nice guys. You play too clean and everyone walks all over you."
"I'm not mad. Why the hell are you?" Ivan replied with a lazy smile, his French accent curling around the words.
He knew exactly what was happening. Ashley wouldn't have dared snatch the project without Madeline pulling the strings. Last time he got Edgar involved, Madeline must've decided Ivan was the CEO's guy. Now she was squeezing him hard.
If he worked in any other department, she couldn't fuck with him so openly. Problem was, Public Relations answered straight to her. Even the President of Vought couldn't stick his nose in too deep.
"Man, I don't know how you do it," Baruch said, shaking his head as he headed for the door. "Your balls must be the size of the seven seas."
Once Baruch was gone, Ivan spun his chair toward the computer screen.
He stared at the upcoming All-Star promo event, the corner of his mouth curling into a sly little smirk.
The real fun was only getting started. No one was stealing his credit that easily. Greedy fucks always choke in the end.
[Congratulations, player. You have slightly altered the original plot and earned 410 Fantasy Points.]
Evening rolled around.
A light rain was falling over New York.
Inside an upscale restaurant on a Manhattan main street, Starlight sat by the window, staring out through the glass like she was waiting for someone.
Truth was, The Deep's sudden explosion in popularity made her sick to her stomach.
A sexual-harassing piece of shit like him didn't deserve any of the praise he was getting. Global Environmental Ambassador? Most loving superhero in history? The irony was thick enough to chew.
If she hadn't learned from Ivan that he was the one who actually ran the project, she would've gone public and ripped the mask off that creep herself.
Roughly three minutes later, a man in a sharp suit stepped into view on the rainy Manhattan sidewalk, umbrella in his right hand.
He walked straight into the restaurant.
"Hope I'm not late," Ivan said, shaking the umbrella closed and handing it off to a waiting server.
"No, you're perfectly on time."
Starlight smiled and glanced at her phone. The clock showed exactly the minute they'd agreed on.
"I heard Ashley stole your Deep project," she said once Ivan had sat down and ordered. "You want me to step in and do something about it?"
"You trying to comfort me?" Ivan asked with a playful smirk, his playful tone wrapping around the words like smoke.
Starlight shrugged. "Doesn't look like you need it."
"Yup. I didn't lose shit. The game's barely started," Ivan said, giving a gentlemanly nod as he accepted the drink from the waiter.
"What are you planning?" Starlight frowned. She could already smell something nasty coming.
"Simple," Ivan replied after taking a slow sip of the honeydew juice. "At tomorrow afternoon's All-Star promo event, I need you to blow the lid off The Deep's sexual harassment bullshit."
Starlight stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief. "Oh my God, you're fucking crazy. You really want to personally destroy a supe? If Vought finds out, Madeline will bury you alive. And The Deep? He'll straight-up kill you."
Ivan lifted his head and locked eyes with her. His gaze was sharp, cutting straight through. He leaned back, arms folded, fingers laced together, and just watched her in silence.
For a second Starlight felt naked, like every dirty little secret inside her was laid bare for him to see.
"So tell me," Ivan said with a smile, "how does it feel getting your ass kicked in popularity by the same piece of shit who pulled his pants in front of you? Pissed off? Or just plain fucking humiliated?"
___
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Read 12 Advance Chapters—P@t- Captain69