Vought International Data and Technology Analysis Department.
This is one of the heart and blood vessels of the Vought International.
Everyone was immersed in the universe of code and diagrams before them.
But some people will always have inappropriate thoughts.
Leo was one of them.
As a recognized technical expert in the department, Leo has always been proud of his ability to bypass firewalls and crack encryption protocols.
He can find a competitor's backdoor in an hour and track down an anonymous hacker's physical address in five minutes.
In the world of data, he is king.
The internet is currently buzzing about the return of Soldier Boy. To Leo, the videos and interviews meticulously crafted by the PR department are like cartoons for children—vibrantly colored and with simple logic.
He knew that the truth was not like that; the real valuable documents were the original files.
It refers to data that is wrapped in layers of Ω-level encryption protocols and buried deep within the company's servers.
For example, what was the real reason the Soldier Boy was "shelved" for so many years?
The idea sprouted in his mind without warning.
Just one glance.
Just one glance.
He believed he had the ability.
During a system maintenance session, he stumbled upon a negligible redundant port—a forgotten backdoor.
All he needed to do was... quietly push open that door.
Leo forced himself to calm down.
He looked around; everything in the office was in perfect order, and his colleagues were still diligently working. Department head Tali Zola and her deputy Chloe O'Brien were discussing something in hushed tones, gesturing as they walked toward the break room.
Nobody noticed him.
very good.
Leo felt his blood begin to heat up, and his fingertips felt slightly hot.
His fingers flew across the keyboard like a blur.
He cleverly bypassed the three internal monitoring protocols using a self-made script, and they even returned a green signal indicating that "the system is working normally."
Finally, he arrived at his destination.
An encrypted data packet path, marked as Ω level, lay quietly on his terminal interface.
[File Number: SB-1945-Origin]
That's it.
Leo's heart began to race; it was the gambler's final burst of excitement before going all in.
He knew very well that he was playing with fire, standing on the edge of a cliff looking down.
But the allure of uncovering the ultimate secret, the thrill of challenging the company's most robust security system, had overwhelmed all reason.
He moved the cursor, hovered it over the "Access" button, and hesitated for less than half a second.
Then he pressed it.
The very moment he pressed the button.
The screen went black.
It's not just a regular black screen; it's a deep, unfathomable black.
Leo froze.
He instinctively pressed the restart button, but the computer did not respond.
The next second.
In the center of that completely black screen, an image silently appeared.
Short purple hair, delicate features, and eyes so calm they seemed devoid of any emotion.
Motoko Kusanagi.
The vice president of Vought International, the embodiment of the oversight center.
That was no simple picture; Leo seemed to sense that behind that image lay a consciousness as vast as the starry sky.
Leo felt as if his very soul was being nailed to the ground by that gaze.
All the scripts he kept in his terminal, the vulnerabilities he didn't report, and even his browser's browsing history were thoroughly discovered.
Two minutes later.
The office door was pushed open silently.
A figure stood in the doorway against the light of the corridor.
He wore a worn-out brown trench coat, dirty leather gloves, and a similarly filthy white cloth mask over his face.
On the mask, symmetrical black ink stains flowed and deformed silently as if they were alive.
Rorschach.
Deputy head of the Internal Security and Risk Control Department, a "scavenger" within Vought.
He went straight to Leo's workstation.
The office fell completely silent.
Rorschach walked up to Leo, lowered his head, and the ever-changing ink-stained mask was less than a meter away from him.
The surrounding colleagues finally couldn't help but cast curious yet frightened glances at them.
The ink on the mask wriggled, forming a smiley face before quickly spreading out.
"Crossing the boundary."
Leo felt his breathing become incredibly difficult.
He instinctively tried to stand up from the chair, but a gloved hand was already on his shoulder, the force of which rendered him unable to move an inch.
"You want to know the truth?"
Rorschach's head was tilted slightly, and the ink on his mask coalesced into two asymmetrical black spots, like a pair of mocking eyes.
"The truth... doesn't belong to someone like you."
Leo opened his mouth to defend himself, to say that he was just curious, to beg for forgiveness, but all the words stuck in his throat.
He could only stare in horror at the faceless mask.
Rorschach didn't give him another chance to speak. He grabbed his shoulder and pulled him up from his seat with a slight force.
Leo was dragged out of the office like a puppet being manipulated on strings.
He saw the horrified, pitying, and gloating looks in his colleagues' eyes, but they all quickly avoided his gaze.
After they completely disappeared at the end of the corridor, Leo's computer automatically restarted with a "beep," and the Vought International logo and login screen appeared.
Soon, the HR department staff will come over with expressionless faces and take away all of Leo's personal belongings in a cardboard box.
His access card, his accounts, and every trace of his existence at Vought International would be completely erased within minutes.
Vought International has its own "cleaners" within the company.
Its rules do not allow any form of curiosity.
This massive machine will mercilessly crush any screw that tries to go off track.
It's 11:30 PM.
Emily, a young employee in the public relations department, dragged her aching body out of the Vought Tower.
To promote the new hero, she and her team have been working overtime for three consecutive days.
She rubbed her sore neck and, as usual, looked up at the top of the towering skyscraper at the street corner.
The light in the CEO's office was on.
as always.
There's a legend circulating within the company.
Lynn Morris, the CEO who single-handedly created the Vought myth, never needs to sleep.
He is always working, always thinking, and always planning.
Emily had heard her senior colleagues in the department share those dubious secrets in the break room, in an almost reverent tone.
Some say that the head of the public relations department, the elegant yet aloof Minister Hans Landa, once received a phone call from the boss himself at four in the morning.
The phone call wasn't about any earth-shattering strategic decisions; it was about discussing the use of a punctuation mark in an advertisement for an upcoming hero figurine.
Some say that a cleaning worker once saw Hannibal Lecter from the Strategic Operations Department walk into the CEO's office at six in the morning, carrying a still-steaming breakfast.
These legends have shrouded the CEO, who has rarely appeared in public, in a mysterious aura.
That ever-burning light is the most direct proof of this halo, and the most steadfast belief in the hearts of all Vought employees.
Emily looked at the lamp, her weariness seemed to miraculously vanish.
She never considered her boss to be a capitalist who exploits his employees.
I am following a deity who walks among humans.
A god who is using unparalleled wisdom and will to reshape, mold, and polish this chaotic and filthy world according to his blueprint.
It is the highest honor for these people to contribute to God's great work and to be a part of this magnificent blueprint.
What has happened in the past few weeks has been seen by outsiders as a world-shaking upheaval.
But to the employees at Vought, it was just a perfectly normal move on the boss's chessboard.
As long as that light stays on, Vought is invincible.
Emily smiled at the distant light, then turned and disappeared into the New York night.
She felt a surge of energy returning to her apartment and couldn't wait to start brainstorming promotional material for another new hero's short film.