Night Market

The night market was bustling.

These days, the lights at night always outshone the stars.

Neon lights flashed across the city. High above it, Ryan watched from the shadows.

His telescopic vision swept over every corner in sight like radar.

After a while,

he spotted something that looked out of place.

Near the harbor, under cover of darkness, a group of people were carefully unloading cargo from a ship.

The goods were packed in wooden crates. Ryan could not tell exactly what was inside.

But the porters all wore expressions that practically said I'm up to no good. Ryan knew he had found a place to fight crime.

He did not hesitate.

He flew straight there. Above the calm waves, no one noticed him approaching from the sky.

Ryan landed on the dock and considered how best to make an entrance.

The pose mattered.

It could intimidate the enemy and make him look cool.

As he thought it over, Ryan watched the ship in the distance. Crate after crate came ashore.

Someone stood beside the ship, counting them.

And someone else was filming.

Filming?

Sensing something was off, Ryan looked toward the cameraman near the cargo.

A makeup artist was touching up a man in a skintight suit. A woman who seemed to be a copywriter held a script and coached him on his lines.

The scene was nothing like Ryan had imagined.

"Are they shooting a show?"

He pricked up his ears to listen more closely and caught their conversation.

It was the man talking to the copywriter.

From what he heard, the operation would be broadcast live, and they needed to make sure the Supe looked cool.

That told Ryan enough.

They were from Vought International, putting on a show for one of its Supes.

The villains were not really villains. The script was already written.

All the Supe had to do was follow it.

The camera would capture his heroic figure and put it on screens for everyone to see.

People loved watching criminals get brought to justice, so the segment would boost the Supe's popularity.

Ryan focused on the Supe.

He wore a dark green jacket, had black hair, and had bulging muscles in his arms.

Ryan remembered him from what he knew of this world's story in his previous life.

He recognized the Supe.

"The Deep."

The Deep.

His name made his power easy enough to guess.

He could communicate with sea creatures. That was it.

Ryan stayed where he was and watched carefully.

He wanted to see how Vought International presented its Supes.

They had to look noble and righteous.

As the dockworkers unloaded the last crate, The Deep appeared.

He delivered his stern line.

"Smugglers like you deserve to spend the rest of your lives behind bars."

Then a spotlight snapped on. Its harsh beam picked out The Deep, making him look imposing even against the lovely night sky.

Tall,

and heroic.

The Deep slowly approached the villains, who put on frightened faces, and opened a crate.

It contained white powder.

He touched it and flew into a rage.

"You disguised this as white sugar? Do you have no conscience as merchants?"

"But these are crystals."

One of the villains finally talked back.

That was more than The Deep could bear.

"Enough. Your crimes are unforgivable. Face the judgment you deserve."

Ryan had no idea which copywriter had come up with lines so embarrassingly dramatic. The Deep's face twitched as he read them woodenly.

Then The Deep clapped his hands. Fish leaped from the water near the shore.

They splashed the villains.

Their acting turned especially overblown. They fell to their knees, crying out that he was too powerful and begging for mercy.

The Deep struck a merciful pose.

But he showed them none. He called the police and watched them get hauled into a vehicle to be rehabilitated.

The scene ended with a shot of his heroic back.

The Deep gazed out to sea and murmured,

"Who kept the seas safe? Was it me?"

He sounded hesitant and unsure.

Ryan could not take it anymore. He walked over.

"That was all acting. There wasn't a shred of feeling in it."

"Huh?"

The Deep had spoken.

He turned around. Filming was over and the crew had already left, so the sudden appearance of a child caught him off guard.

A kid wandering around this late?

He probably was not up to any good.

The Deep had his own way of dealing with people like that.

"A fan? Forgive me, but I can't give you an autograph right now."

"Nobody wants your autograph."

"Then you have no idea what you're missing."

"I know exactly what I'm missing. That's why I want to miss it."

Ryan was a little baffled too.

Every Supe seemed to assume anyone they met was a fan.

In truth, Ryan barely knew them.

"Were you shooting a show just now?"

"You saw that? Then I guess I'll have to throw you in the sea and feed you to the fish."

Beside the dock, cold waves rolled across the water, where schools of fish had gathered.

The atmosphere had been calm,

but one sentence from The Deep made it tense.

Even Ryan was thoroughly confused.

"One second you're a Supe, and the next you're threatening to kill a witness?"

"If you go around talking, The Deep's reputation will suffer."

"No one would believe me without proof. Even if I posted online that this was staged, the truth would get buried under doubt and abuse."

"That's true."

The Deep nodded. If he could avoid it, he did not want to watch someone get dragged to the bottom of the sea by fish tonight.

The night breeze was chilly. He hugged himself.

"It's cold. You should hurry home."

With that, he turned to leave. He had barely taken a few steps when the child grabbed him and pulled him back.

"I didn't say you could go."

"So now I need permission to leave?"

"Yeah."

Ryan nodded as if it were obvious.

After watching that whole contrived performance, he was in a bad mood.

"Putting on a show like that shatters people's dreams and hopes about heroes."

"But people pay to see it."

"That's a separate issue."

Ryan kept the two matters apart. He turned to gaze at the dark sea.

Under the bright moonlight, fish frolicked in the water.

"I suddenly feel like eating fish."

"What?"

The Deep stared blankly at the child.

"If you want fish, jump in and catch one."

"As a Supe, you should help people in need. For example, I want fish."

"..."

While The Deep was still trying to work out how that followed, he saw the child reach for him.

The strength in that hand was terrifying.

Despite being a muscular, well-built adult, he was flung through the air.

Splash!

He hit the water, then surfaced.

In the icy sea, The Deep glared at the child lounging on the dock.

The child crouched down and spoke with perfect kindness.

"I want that croaker."

"You want me to catch it?"

"Aren't you The Deep? Catching one fish should be easy for a hero of the sea."

"..."

Anger built inside The Deep. He wanted to climb out and punch the kid, but the boy's strength and the feeling he gave off

reminded him of someone else.

The same utter disregard for everyone around him.

The leader of the Supes, Homelander.

Homelander inspired more fear than admiration. The Deep fell silent, not daring to defy Ryan.

In the quiet night, Ryan watched The Deep struggle through the water, catching fish for him.

But Ryan's thoughts were elsewhere.

He was thinking about Vought International.

Most Metahumans worked for Vought International, and The Deep was no exception.

That meant The Deep might one day be ordered to confront Ryan. After all, Ryan knew he was a Metahuman too.

A Metahuman beyond Vought International's control.

There were generally two ways to handle someone like him.

Recruit him or destroy him.