piratefiction Chapter 15 Not a single one of them is human.
Chapter 15 Not a single one of them is human.
"Take a look at this."
Madeline, the vice president of Water Corporation, is showing a photograph of a Black man to the mayor of Baltimore and then announcing her price:
"Three hundred million dollars, and he's yours."
Please don't misunderstand, this is not a triangular trade. It's just the annual hero signing adjustment by Vought International, just like the NBA transfer window.
"An exclusive three-year deal, $300 million a year, and Prince Nubia and his entire campaign team are yours, plus a share of the revenue from related IP merchandise."
Madeline's demands weren't exactly outrageous. A superhero is of great significance to a city, especially in a city like Baltimore where the proportion of people of color and the crime rate are rising year after year.
"Two hundred million US dollars to buy this 'Prince of Nubia'."
Every politician is a shrewd businessman, and the mayor of Baltimore is no exception: "This is how I can convince my city council and voters."
"Think about it carefully, Steve. Your city's crime rate is rising and your approval rating is falling. You have to do something to change voters' minds."
Madeline knows these Democrats all too well, so much so that manipulating them in every deal negotiation is utterly unpleasant:
"Do you think it's better to spend this money on an invincible superhero, packaged as a saint, or on a heavily armed police force that will indiscriminately shoot any suspect with even slightly darker skin?"
Baltimore Mayor Steve thought it was definitely better to spend money on the police force, because they were actually risking their lives to do real work and were under his command, while most superheroes were just putting on a show.
Of course, he could only say this in his heart, since the vast majority of his voters would choose the former.
Everyone wants an all-powerful superhero to help them change their miserable situation, but few people are willing to know that these so-called Vought International superheroes are also human, not the saints or messiahs portrayed in propaganda.
But the mayor happened to know.
"What if I said I knew about 'Compound Five'..."
The mayor glanced at Madeline, leaning forward in a threatening posture. Just as mentioned before, every politician is a shrewd businessman, and businessmen always have their own bargaining chips:
"Madeline, we're friends, aren't we? Friends can always help each other."
Although Madeleine was inwardly stirred upon hearing "Compound No. 5," her expression remained unchanged.
"Three hundred million dollars. If you don't buy it, we'll sell it to Atlanta."
~~~~
What an inefficient revenue model.
Stan Edgar couldn't help but think this as he looked at Walter's financial report for the previous quarter.
He has never liked the current core business of the Water Corporation.
Since the beginning of the 21st century, with the development of new media, Vought International has further expanded its influence to almost the entire entertainment industry. From Hollywood to San Fernando, people are proud to receive a contract with Vought International, and the company's stock price has soared. Everyone who sees this has to say that it is thriving.
By selling superheroes to various cities, Vought International achieved stable revenue, but this way of making money was ultimately just a process, not the result.
By deploying superheroes to various cities to maintain order, the superheroes' law enforcement powers were established in the open; at the same time, they were linked to politicians' election campaigns, thus achieving infiltration of both the House and Senate.
The next crucial step is to weaponize superheroes.
The superheroes we have are top-tier weapons of mass destruction. Using them to maintain city security or to act as celebrities and fool fans is like using a massive ship to go fishing – a huge waste of their potential.
Of course—this is also just to fool the public. The vast majority of Vought superheroes are neither disciplined nor courageous. Sending them to the battlefield is like sending a ship loaded with 10,000 tons of fuel to fight a war. Just looking at them will cause them to explode.
However, Vought has done enough publicity to convince people that superheroes can indeed make their mark in a wider world.
The next step is simply to push forward at the legislative level until Vought's ultimate goal is achieved: to formally transfer Vought's products, namely superheroes, from the entertainment field to the military field.
The five major Hollywood studios can only rake in tens of billions of dollars at the box office in a year, even if they work themselves to the bone, while the Department of Defense's annual budget is close to eight hundred billion dollars. It's obvious which side makes more money.
Why fight with film and television companies for a piece of a bigger cake when you can get a slice from a smaller one?
Moreover, joining the national military system can bring even more benefits, including things that are difficult to buy with money alone.
~~~~
After some back and forth, Hughie finally reached an agreement: he would go to Vought International alone to receive compensation, sign a confidentiality agreement, and have the Locomotive personally apologize to him.
The security on the first floor of the Water Tower exceeded Hughie's expectations. Armed security personnel controlled all entrances from the second-floor balcony. Hughie felt that even a group of Navy SEALs would have a hard time breaching such a stronghold.
Hughie was still on edge when he went through security, because he had hidden the bugging device in the lining of his phone case. If the security personnel had been even slightly more careful, he would have been done for today.
"Thank you for your cooperation, sir."
Like most office workers, the security personnel chose the easiest way to work: they simply picked up their phones, glanced at them briefly, made a show of it, and then waved them through.
As Hughie approached the meeting room, the Seven's morning meeting had just ended. Hughie even met the new superhero "Superman," who had made his first public appearance a few days earlier. He was a rather young man, and judging from his appearance, Hughie thought he might not have even finished high school.
At this moment, the young man is arguing with another person beside him who seems to be an assistant:
"I'm not going. Don't try to pressure me with Madeline; I don't even know her!"
Go to the meeting room → make an excuse to go to the restroom → take out the bugging device → return to the meeting room → stick it in a hidden place → sign the documents and make a quick getaway.
Just as Hughie was mentally rehearsing the whole process, Superman walked over from a distance. Hughie's brain was severely overloaded at that moment, and he crashed straight into him.
The impact caused him to lose his balance, and he was about to fall flat on his face.
Joey caught the unfortunate man who had accidentally bumped into him. He had been arguing with the assistant Walter had just assigned to him and hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings at all.
"Sorry, are you alright?"
Hughie thought he might have PTSD related to superheroes because he felt a chill run down his spine when Superman touched him.
Fortunately, this inexplicable fear came and went quickly, disappearing once the other party stopped contacting him. Otherwise, Hughie felt he might not have been able to muster the courage to go to the conference room to install the bugging device again.
Just as Hughie was making his 007-esque journey and preparing to sabotage Vought International, Joey was also sabotaging the company in his own way:
"Which beach lad suddenly had the idea to get me to attend a church lecture?"
The assistant, who had been reprimanded, remained composed and showed no sign of fear or unease despite Joey's outburst.
"Our marketing department has conducted thorough research. Your target audience and religious believers highly overlap. Participating in missionary sermons is a win-win situation. You can gain followers from your existing followers, and the church can gain new followers from its existing followers..."
"Furthermore, as part of your persona, as a rural Kansas boy with a strong faith, isn't it reasonable for you to participate in religious sermons in the name of God?"
"My belief is that if the God you're talking about wants me to go, he'll send me a text message to let me know."
Joey pulled his phone out from the chest pocket of his crudely made Superman suit—there was simply nowhere else to put it.
Damn it, why didn't I think of having the clothing department make two pockets when I asked them to make the clothes?
Joey suddenly realized that there was some merit to Batman wearing a bat belt; with that thing, at least he wouldn't have to worry about not having a place to put his phone.
Ding-dong~ At that moment, Joey's phone inexplicably received a text message from an unknown number. The message read, "[You can go there.]"
Joey broke out in a cold sweat and typed "[Who are you?]" in response.
[Not God, but a raven.]
"WTF, you're still spying on me?!"
Joey immediately shouted angrily and looked at his own shadow, a move that startled his assistant beside him.
[Yes, but not in the shadows; a crystal ball was used.]
Joey could already picture the scene: a sinister black-robed witch lurking in a dark basement, her hands circling a crystal ball as she let out a sinister, cackling laugh.
At this moment, Raven was leisurely curled up on the hotel sofa, having taken off her black magic cloak and corset, and put on a loose black short-sleeved shirt that covered most of her body.
She was currently in one of the guest rooms at Trump Tower, where Superman was staying.
She was probably no more than 30 meters away from Superman's residence, which allowed her to perform divination on Superman with almost no pressure.
Raven scrolled through Douyin on her phone, her eyes occasionally glancing at the newly activated magic crystal ball on the coffee table, which was almost completely covered by various snack wrappers.
While texting Superman, she didn't forget to reach out and stuff all sorts of snacks from the coffee table into her mouth.
Raven knew all too well that using divination to spy on others was extremely immoral.
However, if Superman and those morally bankrupt individuals are allowed to continue living together, anything could happen under their influence.
After conducting its own investigation in and around New York, Raven felt it was still very necessary to make further efforts to intervene.
Otherwise, Earth in this world might not have been able to resist the Hell Dimension at all, because they would have been doomed before their father, the [Sangokuma], descended.