I Downed It

Jessica glared at him for a full minute.

The office was so quiet that they could hear nothing but each other's breathing.

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

Love... fuck love...

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

"Fuck!"

Jessica drained the drink in her glass. "I downed 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 +15,000!

"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 pulled her toward the door. "Styling department? What baptism? I don't fucking 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 had been "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 going insane, but it was not over yet.

Ashley ignored her mood and swiped across her 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 in Hell's Kitchen brawling with little punks, can you?" Ashley looked at her as if she were saying, How naive can you be?

"Listen, here's the new script: you, Jessica Jones, a Columbia University dropout, gained divine powers in an... um... alien radiation incident! You were once lost, until... you met Homelander! He was like a beacon, guiding you and making you realize... with great power comes great responsibility!"

Jessica felt like she was about to throw up last night's whiskey.

Then the stylist brought over an outfit.

Jessica Jones turned to stone.

It was a white skintight suit.

Not pure white, but the kind mixed with pearlescent powder—damn it, sparkling 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 highlights every one of your best features!"

"Ashley!" Jessica turned toward the beautiful assistant. "I'll 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 held up a dainty finger. "But you don't know how to battle. Your movements... are too dirty. What audiences want to see is... beauty! Ballet! It's... this!"

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

"Get lost!"

"Listen," Ashley said, her expression turning serious. "Homelander's movie, 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 of that night... second only to him."

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

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

"This is so fucking..." she sighed softly.

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

Meanwhile, Vought Media's public relations team had thoroughly erased the person known as "Jessica Jones" from Hell's Kitchen's records.

Before the movie premiered, she had to be 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 '82 Happy Water, and casually turned on the television.

On the television, 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 fell into the sea..."

On the screen, the cliffside mansion turned into a ball of fire.

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

"...Earlier, Tony Stark had publicly declared war on terrorists through the media! He even revealed his own identity!"

"Stupid."

Wu Yanzu shook his head.

"Tony... Tony... you're always like this."

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

Then he picked up his private phone, an encrypted internal line of the Vought Group.

"Ashley, send out a statement immediately. Vought International and Homelander personally condemn in the strongest terms what 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 in Wu Yanzu's body 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 "grief" and "anger."

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

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

Nick Fury fell silent for a moment on the other end of the line.

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

"Assessing?! Director Fury! Tony is my friend!" Wu Yanzu's acting mode was in full swing, and even his voice trembled. "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 dangerous."

"I was born for danger, Director."

Wu Yanzu hung up, and the "grief and indignation" on his face vanished instantly.

He had obtained a legitimate excuse to intervene.

"Very good."

"Dr. Killian... don't you dare... disappoint me."