Vought News Network Morning News.
"... Breaking news! General Joseph Kalombe, leader of the Democratic Republic of the Congo) rebels, died yesterday during a public speech in the capital Kinshasa due to an acute myocardial infarction..."
The image shows an obese man on a stage suddenly clutching his chest and collapsing in pain.
The scene was chaotic.
The female host wore a formulaic expression of pity.
"... It is reported that General Kalombe suffered from high blood pressure and heart disease for many years, and his personal physician stated that the general's passing was an unfortunate accident."
Below the news article, a scrolling text quietly appeared.
[ Titan Mining, a subsidiary of Vought Holdings, announced that it will temporarily take over the security and operations of all rare earth mines owned by General Kalombe in order to stabilize the regional situation.]
Strategic Operations Department.
Victoria Hand turned off the screen on the wall.
She picked up her coffee and took a small sip.
Perfect.
Next.
Her assistant quickly swiped on the tablet, and another news source was projected onto the screen.
This time it's a financial channel from Europe.
"... Russia energy oligarch Ivan Petrov died last night on his private yacht Siberia Queen, after accidentally ingesting improperly prepared pufferfish. His three bodyguards also succumbed to the poisoning..."
The footage shows a stretcher covered with a white sheet being carried off a luxury yacht.
The Flash went off everywhere.
"... As a result, Petrov's Siberia Energy Group's stock price plummeted by 42%."
Both "asset liquidation" tasks were 100% completed.
No trace was left behind.
Just then, the office door was gently pushed open.
A man with impeccable manners walked in.
Hannibal Lecter.
He's back.
" Victoria."
"PhD."
Victoria stood up and nodded slightly.
"I smell lemons."
Hannibal's gaze fell on the lemon tart carefully preserved under a glass dome on the conference table.
"I've saved one for you," Victoria said.
Hannibal smiled and nodded.
Instead of immediately tasting the dessert, he walked over to Victoria and looked at the news about Petrov on the screen.
"Pufferfish?" he asked softly.
"Yes."
Was it cleaned properly?
"The chef's brother is now our informant in Marseille. The chef himself is already on a plane back to France. He will receive a generous pension and a completely new identity."
"Very good."
Hannibal's face showed genuine approval.
That's not how a superior feels about their subordinate's completion of a task.
Rather, it was an artist appreciating the outstanding works of his students.
"The randomness of death is like seasoning in cooking. Too much and it's overcooked, too little and it's bland."
He stretched out his finger and gently brushed it across his spotless cuff.
"A heart attack, brutal, but effective. Like a pot of strong borscht."
"And pufferfish... ah, pufferfish."
"Precise, elegant, with an unpredictable sense of destiny."
"You did a great job, Victoria. You found the perfect balance between ruggedness and refinement."
He picked up a small silver box from the table and handed it to Victoria.
"A small gift I brought back from Florence."
Victoria opened the box.
Inside is a lifelike eye made of icing sugar and almond powder.
It is as exquisite as a work of art.
"Thank you, Doctor." She accepted the gift.
For the Strategic Operations Department, death is not the end.
It's a business.
An art that requires exquisite plating.
Three days later.
A grand funeral was held at the Washington National Cathedral.
The church was packed with people, both inside and out.
Countless people spontaneously came with flowers to bid farewell to this "heroic sacrifice."
The camera panned across a series of sorrowful faces.
Many of them were extras hired by Vought's public relations department.
Inside the church.
Hans Landa stepped onto the podium.
He personally wrote the eulogy for Quake Fist.
"Today, we gather here not to mourn the passing of a hero."
"We are here to remember. To remember a spirit."
"When the insane supervillain ' Nuclear Fusion ' attempted to detonate a chemical plant in Detroit, when the lives of hundreds of thousands hung in the balance, it was Mark Hansen, our Quake Fist, who was the first to step forward!"
Hans swept his gaze across the entire field.
He did not hesitate. He did not back down. He shook the earth with his fists and stopped the disaster. He gave his life to bring peace to the city!
Some say he's a B-class hero. But in my opinion, in the hearts of everyone he saved, he's S-class! The highest level!
He doesn't have the ability to fly, nor does he have an invulnerable body. But he has a heart of gold. A heart belonging to a true hero!
Inside the church, soft sobs could be heard.
The young "widow" of the Quake Fist, a woman played by an actress signed with Vought, nearly fainted from crying in her seat.
A perfectly timed close-up shot focused on her tear-streaked face.
"... Though his physical body has vanished, his spirit will become the cornerstone of this city, forever protecting us."
"Rest in peace, Quake Fist."
Rest in peace, Mark Hansen.
Hans bowed deeply.
The thunderous applause lasted for a long time.
The so-called supervillain " Nuclear Fusion " was just a pathetic wretch whom Vought had taken from a mental hospital and injected with an overdose of Compound V.
The so-called "chemical plant crisis" was, from beginning to end, a carefully orchestrated drama by the Strategic Operations Department.
A grand performance aimed at rationally "liquiding" the negative asset that is Quake Fist.
The funeral has ended.
Public opinion was completely ignited.
The hashtag # Quake Fist # trended on social media.
The Quake Fist figurine sold out overnight, and its price on the secondhand market skyrocketed.
Major film companies practically fought tooth and nail for the film adaptation rights to his biography.
His "widow" tearfully announced at a press conference that she would establish the " Shockwave Fist Children's Charitable Foundation " to help the families of the chemical plant workers "saved" by him.
Before the press conference even ended, donations from all over the world poured into the foundation's account like a tidal wave.
Public Relations Department.
Miranda Priestly placed a data report on Hans's desk.
"Minister, the brand value index of the Quake Fist surged by 730% within 24 hours of its death."
The foundation's account has received over ten million US dollars in donations.
"Very good."
Hans's face remained expressionless.
He was simply admiring his own work.
An alchemy that transforms "negative assets" into "gold".
Just then, Hannibal Lecter walked in.
He glanced at the numbers in the report and smiled at Hans.
"A magnificent eulogy, Minister Landa."
"You have imbued a necessary surgical procedure with a poetic beauty."
Hans raised his glass.
"I simply added suitable background music to the professor's masterpiece."
The two looked at each other and smiled.
Outside the window, the afterglow of the setting sun bathed the entire New York in a golden hue.
Like embers rising after a grand funeral.