Who Is the Next Superhero? was more than just a reality show—it was a money-printing machine running at full capacity.
Vought's New York headquarters, conference room.
Wu Yanzu sat at the head of the table, idly playing with a Montblanc pen, a genial smile of authority on his face.
Across from him sat mayoral representatives from Chicago, Detroit, Miami, Seattle, and other cities.
These politicians, who usually threw their weight around in city halls, now sat stiffly like elementary school students waiting for their teacher to grade their homework, beads of sweat covering their foreheads.
"Gentlemen," Wu Yanzu said softly, yet his voice was deafening, "I think you may have misunderstood something."
He pushed a thick stack of contracts back toward them. The papers fanned smoothly across the conference table.
"Vought does not sell mercenaries."
"What we provide is... a brand. A sense of security. A reason for your citizens to roll over and go back to sleep when they hear something moving in an alley in the middle of the night."
The Los Angeles mayoral representative wiped away his sweat, his voice trembling slightly. "But, Mr. Starr... the annual two hundred million dollar 'hero service fee' nearly accounts for ten percent of our police budget..."
"Last year alone, property damage caused by superhuman crime in Los Angeles reached three hundred and fifty million dollars." Wu Yanzu cut him off, a glint of coldness flashing in his eyes. "Not to mention the plunging approval ratings that cannot be measured in money. Mr. Mayor, I imagine your reelection campaign next year could use some... powerful endorsements?"
"Their value is far greater than you imagine!"
He pointed at the giant screen behind him.
On it, the profiles of heroes signed by Vought were scrolling past.
"Look at these kids." Wu Yanzu introduced