The Mermaid ( Jay Chou )
(The rule is that if I take a break from updating, I will make up for it with two chapters the next day. Brothers, please support me.)
These chapters transition very quickly, so please don't mind my slow pace. Once everyone's here, we can start fighting. Let's explain the world-building and setting first.
"Tap, tap."
Maeve walked into the lobby with her head down.
The fight had left her in a very disheveled state.
Not only was he soaked to the bone, but his combat suit also had a three-inch-long tear on the left shoulder, and several pieces of the insignia on his chest had fallen off, revealing his bare skin.
His blond hair was stuck to his scalp in strands by sweat and dust, making him look particularly disheveled.
So now she needs to change her clothes, pants, and undershirt.
As was her usual practice, she would personally report to Edgar in the top-floor office after completing each task.
But this mission was clearly a failure.
If you fail, you will be asked why.
So, what kind of reason should she come up with to fool the cunning Edgar?
While thinking this, Maeve had already changed her clothes.
She has three identical uniforms; she simply rinses herself off and then puts on a new one.
After all, even superheroes have dress codes for work.
Everyone is the same, including Homelander.
"Bite--"
The elevator's electronic announcement sounded, and Maeve arrived at the top floor.
The door to the CEO's office was ajar, and a tall, leggy female secretary in a business suit stood outside. Upon seeing her approach, she gave a slight bow.
"Good evening, Miss Maeve. Mr. Edgar is waiting for you."
Maeve nodded slightly, pushed open the door, and went inside.
In the office, a floor-to-ceiling glass window occupies the entire wall.
Outside the window, the overcast, gray light streamed in, making the atmosphere in the office feel particularly cold and desolate.
Edgar was standing by the window with his back to her, holding a wine glass in his hand, the amber liquid swirling gently on the glass.
Even when Maeve came in, he still didn't turn around.
"You're back."
"Um."
Maeve walked to the desk and stood there, her hands hanging naturally at her sides, but her fingertips unconsciously clenched the hem of her coat.
"Hmm... I lost track of my target."
"Oh?"
Upon hearing Maeve's words, Edgar turned around with some surprise and looked at her meaningfully.
But he did not choose to question or pursue the matter further.
He simply walked slowly back to his desk, sat down, and gently placed his wine glass on the solid wood table.
"Then tell me, how did you lose them?"
Edgar's tone was calm, without the slightest ripple.
"I don't know how they discovered the tracking chip inside my body."
Maeve, without batting an eye, recited the excuse she had just made up while changing clothes.
"They had set up an ambush in the abandoned factory beforehand. When I went in, I triggered some ammunition devices, and by the time I rushed out, they were gone."
Maeve's nonsense was coherent and barely held up to scrutiny.
If it were someone else, they probably would have foolishly believed it already.
But Edgar was a skeptic; he wouldn't readily believe anything.
So he simply gazed at her, his fingers slowly tapping the table, one tap after another.
At this moment, the atmosphere in the office gradually froze.
Maeve could even feel her heart pounding, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
(I almost wrote "egg")
No... it absolutely cannot be detected that something is wrong.
Thinking this, Maeve, feeling guilty, straightened her face, forcing herself to remain calm, and met Edgar's deep gaze.
To define something, you need evidence.
Without evidence, suspicion is merely inference, not a basis for judgment.
Maeve is gambling that Edgar can't find any evidence.
Sure enough, a few seconds later Edgar looked away, picked up his glass, and took a sip of whiskey.
" Maeve, how many years have you been by my side?"
At that moment, Edgar suddenly blurted out a sentence.
Did he discover something?
Upon hearing Edgar's words, Maeve, who was already feeling guilty, tensed up and her brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.
"Almost... twenty years."
"Yes, it's been twenty years."
Edgar sighed softly, his tone carrying a hint of wistfulness.
"Do you remember? You signed with Vought when you were seventeen. Back then, you were called Maggie, you had red hair, and you had a much more fiery temper than you do now."
I watched you fight your way out of the training camp, don Queen Maeve's armor, and then watched you rise step by step to your position on the Seven.
He looked up at her, his deep eyes holding a strange, unreadable expression.
" Maeve, over the years, Vought has never treated you unfairly..."
As long as you are genuinely dedicated to working for the company, the company will treat you the same way.
Maeve didn't know how to respond, and her unease grew stronger.
Having known Edgar for over twenty years, she understood his thought process all too well.
He's a businessman through and through, only interested in profit.
To the outside world, all his packaging can be a kind of test, an alternative, but necessary value.
Therefore, he would never say such tender words without a reason.
Maeve was right. Sure enough, the next second, Edgar changed the subject.
"You must remember that we never made public what happened back then."
Edgar's voice remained calm, devoid of any emotion.
"It's not that we can't disclose it, although it would result in some financial loss, but it wouldn't be a big deal... The reason we're not disclosing it is to protect you."
Maeve certainly knew what it was about.
Her inner conflict.
This statement, seemingly full of concern, actually carries a hidden threat.
Edgar's meaning is actually quite simple.
We will remain Hush as long as we are obedient.
Conversely, we can expose you at any time and ruin your reputation.
What kind of bullshit sentimentality is this? This is nothing but a blatant threat.
Maeve's lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but her throat seemed to be blocked, and she couldn't make a sound.
She still held onto a sliver of hope.
She had been in Vought for twenty years, and even though the environment here was rotten and smelly, it was still the place where she had spent most of her life.
Ever since that incident, she's been stuck in this mess, unable to extricate herself.
Thinking that as long as he could cooperate with the group and, within his capabilities, possibly salvage some things, that would be a form of atonement for his conscience.
Now it seems that this idea...
That's fucking naive.
In fact, from the day she signed with Vought, she entered a vicious cycle called "money-making" and "fame and fortune."
Despite her glamorous appearance, her superhero status is no longer relevant within the group.
In the face of absolute dictatorship and capitalism, heroes are nothing more than dogs kept by Vought.
Are Homelander an exception?
No, he's just a wolfhound at best.
Your master will reward you with bones and honors when you are obedient.
When you're no longer useful, they can kick you aside at any time, turning all your efforts into a handful of ashes, which will eventually dissipate with the smoke and dust.
Like the superhero predecessors of the past, they either died or survived by protecting themselves.
If she doesn't leave, she'll die here sooner or later.
Thinking of this, any hesitation she had was instantly melted away by the chill, leaving not a trace.
It's okay for her to die.
Where is her girlfriend? Where are her family and friends?
They will be liquidated, just like everyone else.
If that's the case, it's better to go down a dead end rather than follow a path that guarantees certain death.
It's better to gamble with danger and the unknown, like "seeking help from a tiger."
She had already made up her mind.
"Call..."
After a moment of reflection, Maeve took a deep breath and suppressed her surging emotions.
She forced a smile and smoothly changed the subject.
"The group has been making some big moves these past few days, what's going on?"
Upon hearing Maeve's words, Edgar gave her a deep look, somewhat pleased with her for being pragmatic.
He then followed her lead and offered a way to ease the tension.
"Perfect timing, there's something important that you should know about."
Edgar leaned forward slightly and tapped the table with his finger.
"Recently, the research department contacted some former researchers in Ohio and obtained a well-preserved vial of the original Compound V1 solution."
"V1?"
Maeve frowned.
She doesn't know much about scientific research and has only heard of Compound V.
This was the first time she had ever heard of V1.
"It's normal that you don't know; this is Vought's top-secret information."
Edgar said, leaning back in his chair, and slowly began to tell the origin story.
"As early as the 1950s, at the very beginning of the Cold War, the military began cooperating with Vought's predecessor laboratory."
Their goal was to create super soldiers to dominate the entire battlefield... The first prototype serum they developed was V1.
"We also call it Compound One."
Edgar paused, then continued reminiscing:
"The original V1 was extremely pure and had not been diluted in any way. The maximum potential it could unleash in its users was far beyond what the currently circulating Compound V could achieve."
The first batch of Superman who successfully injected V1 back then generally possessed abilities three to five times stronger than ordinary Superman today.
However, the risks of its injection are also very high, with a mortality rate of over 90%, and most of those who survive have mental instability issues.
Later, a fire broke out in the laboratory, destroying most of the raw materials and research data, and the research team was almost entirely wiped out in the fire.
This also included Godolkin, one of the founders of Vought, who orchestrated all of this experiment.
"Later, we continued to dilute and improve upon the remaining data."
It took more than a decade to create the current Compound V.
Although Compound V has a lower power ceiling, its safety is much higher, and it can be mass-produced, thus enabling the mass production of Superman.
Edgar tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his tone carrying a rare air of seriousness.
"Over the years, we have never given up searching for the original stock solution, because V1 is the ultimate form of the compound, and it is Vought's true trump card."
Maeve's heart sank upon hearing this.
She knew exactly what that meant.
If the original V1 could truly be mass-produced, then Vought's control over Superman would reach an unprecedented level.
Those Superman injected with V1 will become extremely terrifying weapons of war.
Vought is far larger than it is now.
"Fortunately, this batch of recovered stock solution was preserved at low temperatures for nearly seventy years and still retains its complete activity."
Edgar's tone carried a hint of satisfaction.
"Right now, the Sister Sage are spending all their time in the 27th-floor lab doing reverse engineering with their core team."
By the way, even the rector's the Emissary from Godolkin University is in the team.
Their sole goal is to reconstruct the complete original equation and, while ensuring its biocompatibility, achieve mass production.
What happens after mass production?
Maeve asked.
"Naturally, it will start with you."
"Existing Superman have already adapted to the compound, so the risks of injecting V1 are much lower."
Once you complete the upgrade, we can gradually roll it out to other units. At that time, Vought's Superman forces will be the world's most elite armed force.
When Edgar said this, his eyes held the fervor for profit characteristic of a businessman.
In his eyes, all superheroes are "commodities".
If the value of a commodity increases, its liquidity will also increase.
"Does Homelander know about this?"
"Certainly."
Edgar smiled and took another sip of whiskey.
"He's been unusually well-behaved lately, neither causing trouble nor throwing tantrums, and he's been going to the lab every day, more proactive than anyone else."
"The so-called strongest Superman is actually nothing more than an optimized product of the first generation of Compound V, the most refined finished product on the assembly line."
Edgar picked up his glass and swirled it.
"Once we receive the V1 injection, our team will expand rapidly and our influence will grow exponentially."
We will move into the Department of Defense and officially become a member of the system.
At that time, any organization or force that overestimates its own strength and attempts to undermine our organization or power will suffer the consequences, without exception.
(Who are you referring to? You probably already know.)
"What about Stormfront, who recently joined the Seven?"
Maeve asked again.
"Her? She can't stay idle."
Edgar smiled, his tone slightly mocking.
"I've been battling Neuman lately, with all sorts of tactics: televised debates, street speeches, and social media campaigning."
She used the banner of ' Superman equality' to attract a large number of underprivileged Superman and radical supporters.
They're gaining momentum now, rivaling Neuman's official faction and embroiled in heated arguments."
"Are we just going to let her do whatever she wants?"
Maeve raised an eyebrow.
That's better.
Edgar said calmly.
"By restraining and weakening each other, both sides will avoid directing their attacks at Vought."
You should know that, as materialist dialectics states, although contradictions are opposing forces, they are also dialectically unified.
(A crash course in high school politics)
The fiercer the Stormfront, the more Neuman needed Vought's support.
The harder Neuman pressed, the more the Stormfront needed Vought's resources.
Therefore, they maintain the "snake and clam fight" dynamic, absorbing and transforming public attention, while we simply reap the benefits.
Just then, Edgar suddenly changed the subject and looked at Maeve:
"By the way, before you went out to investigate the Boys team members, did you see the Deep?"
Upon hearing the word " The Deep," Maeve paused almost imperceptibly, a flash of anger crossing her eyes.
Damn it... of course she's seen it before.
The one who made her look so miserable was that despicable beast from the Deep who only liked dried fish.
But what's most frustrating is that she hasn't figured out the secret to becoming stronger in the Deep, and she can't reveal any other information.
Therefore, she could only forcefully lower her eyelashes, suppressing the surging anger within her, and then slowly shook her head expressionlessly:
"No, what happened? He's gone missing again?"