I Did It

Jessica stared at him for a full minute.

The office was so quiet that only their breathing could be heard.

Jessica suddenly felt... a strange flutter in her heart.

Love... fuck love...

It was ridiculous. This blond bastard had actually made her feel... a flicker of safety.

"Fuck!"

Jessica drained the drink in her glass. "I did it!"

She pointed at Wu Yanzu. "But! I only listen to myself. Don't even think about controlling me, or else..."

"Or else?"

"Or else I'll tear this whole building down."

"Deal." Wu Yanzu smiled victoriously. "Welcome to... The Seven, Queen Jones."

"Ding! Special Popularity Points gained +15000!"

"Ashley!" Wu Yanzu pressed the speakerphone button, and Ashley immediately pushed open the door and entered.

"Take Ms. Jones to the styling department. She needs Vought's baptism."

"Yes, sir."

"Wait," Jessica said as Ashley dragged her toward the door. "Styling department? What baptism? I fucking don't need—"

"No, you do." Wu Yanzu's voice came from behind her. "You need to live up to that name, Queen."

"You blond bastard! Fuck—!!"

The door closed.

Jessica Jones was "put on ice" by Vought.

She was thrown into a devilish training camp. It did not train her strength; it trained her image.

"No, Ms. Jones! Smile! Show eight teeth! Like Mr. Homelander!"

"Ms. Jones! Your line is wrong! You can't tell the public, 'Get out of my sight'!"

"Ms. Jones! Put down that bottle of whiskey! Heroes only drink Vought energy drinks!"

Jessica felt like she was about to go insane, but it was not over yet.

Ashley ignored her mood and swiped across the screen. "Your Origin story... we're polishing that too."

"I fucking need an Origin story too?"

"Of course! You can't exactly tell the public that you spend every day hanging around Hell's Kitchen, brawling with street punks, can you?" Ashley looked at her as if she were unbearably naïve.

"Listen, this is the new script: you, Jessica Jones, a Columbia University dropout, gained superhuman strength in an... um... alien radiation incident! You were lost for a time, until... you met Homelander! He was like a beacon, guiding you and making you realize... with great power comes great responsibility!"

Jessica felt last night's whiskey rising in her throat.

Then the stylist brought over an outfit.

Jessica Jones turned to stone.

It was a white bodysuit.

Not pure white, but the sort laced with pearlescent powder—damn it, glittering white. A tacky purple-and-gold letter "Q" was emblazoned across the chest.

"...I'll kill you," Jessica growled.

"Oh, don't be like that!" the stylist shrieked excitedly. "You promised Mr. Starr! This... darling, this Queen Battle Suit uses Starr Group's latest memory fiber! It brings out every one of your best features!"

"Ashley!" Jessica turned to the beautiful assistant. "Fuck your mother!"

"Calm down, Jessica." Ashley took a step back. "This is your new image. You have to... accept it. We've already arranged six weeks of media training, expression management, and combat pose classes for you."

"I don't need combat poses! I fucking know how to fight!"

"You know how to fight, sweetheart." The bearded stylist raised his fingers delicately. "But you don't know how to battle. Your movements... are too dirty. What audiences want to see is... beauty! Ballet! Like... this!"

The stylist struck Homelander's classic hands-on-hips pose.

"Fuck off!"

"Listen." Ashley's expression turned serious. "Homelander's film, Homelander: Origins, will premiere worldwide in six weeks. And you, Queen Jones, will appear at the premiere as Vought's surprise trump card, alongside the plan for The Seven..."

"You'll be the brightest star that night... second only to him."

Jessica looked at the woman in the mirror, forced into a white battle suit, her hair styled by the stylist into "softer" waves.

It was as though she were meeting herself for the first time.

"This is so fucking..." she muttered with a sigh.

"Yes, that expression! Hold it!" The stylist excitedly pulled out his phone. "With just a little... brokenness! Audiences love that!"

Meanwhile, Vought Media's PR team had already erased "Jessica Jones" completely from Hell's Kitchen's records.

Before the film's release, she had to remain a "mystery."

On the other side, Wu Yanzu's Homelander: Origins had finally wrapped filming.

He returned to his penthouse apartment, poured himself a glass of 1982 happiness soda, and casually turned on the television.

On TV, another "major news story" was being reported.

"...Billionaire Iron Man Tony Stark's Malibu mansion was attacked by unidentified armed helicopters. The villa was completely destroyed and plunged into the sea..."

On the screen, the cliffside mansion became a blazing fireball.

"...Reports indicate that Mr. Stark has gone missing in the attack. His bodyguard, Happy Hogan, remains in intensive care. The White House..."

"...Earlier, Tony Stark publicly declared war on the terrorists through the media and revealed his home address!"

"Stupid."

Wu Yanzu shook his head.

"Tony... Tony... you were always like this."

He knew the plot. He knew better than anyone what had happened.

He then picked up his private phone, an encrypted internal line for Vought Group.

"Ashley, draft a statement for me immediately. Vought International and Homelander personally condemn in the strongest terms what has happened to our friend, Mr. Tony Stark."

"Homelander will mobilize every resource to assist in locating Mr. Stark. And against this cowardly terrorist attack... we declare war!"

He hung up.

The blood inside Wu Yanzu began to burn.

Another chance to farm popularity! And...

"Ring, ring... ring, ring..."

At that moment, Nick Fury's call suddenly came through on his phone.

He answered it.

"Director Fury." His voice instantly filled with "sorrow" and "rage."

"I just saw the news... Tony... I can hardly believe it!"

"I request S.H.I.E.L.D.'s authorization! I have to... I have to do something! Those damned terrorists... they have to pay!"

On the other end of the line, Nick Fury was silent for a moment.

"...Starr, calm down. We're assessing the situation..."

"Assessing it?! Director Fury! Tony is my friend!" Wu Yanzu's acting mode went into full swing, his voice even trembling. "I can't just stand by and watch him... You have to give me all the intelligence on the terrorists! Right now! Immediately!"

"...We'll share the intelligence with you. But be careful, Starr. This guy... is very dangerous."

"I was born for danger, Director."

Wu Yanzu hung up, and the "grief and indignation" vanished from his face at once.

He had acquired a legitimate reason to intervene.

"Very good."

"Dr. Killian... you'd better... not disappoint me."