Lynn picked up the phone and dialed Tom, the editor-in-chief of Stars and Stripes.
Tom picked up instantly.
"Lynn! My God, you finally called me! The story about Soldier Boy was... it was nothing short of a miracle!"
Tom's excitement practically poured through the phone.
"Tom, listen."
"I need you to prepare a front-page exclusive. Something explosive."
"Of course! Of course! What's it about? Has Soldier Boy pulled off another great feat? Did he burn off Hitler's mustache?"
Lynn's previous work had already sent Tom's imagination veering in a ridiculous direction.
"No."
Lynn walked over to the console, tapping his fingers lightly against its metal surface.
"This time, the star is a clown."
He recast Red Skull's attempt to recruit him in the most insulting terms.
A madman hiding in some dark, damp cellar in Germany.
A loser driven to perversion by his jealousy of the glory of our god of war.
He deluded himself into trying to imitate Soldier Boy's miracles, but his innate incompetence and acquired depravity meant he could only stitch together piles of revolting monsters called "puppets" from pieces of civilian corpses and rotting animal entrails.
These monsters were Professor Pyg Valentin's "masterpieces" in Puppet Town, the ones Lynn had Tom write about at length.
Now, they all had a new creator.
Red Skull.
"He doesn't even have a face of his own. He can only hide his ugliness and incompetence behind a ridiculous red mask."
Lynn's account was calm and cruel.
"Now this wretch, this pervert who can only play with corpses, has actually deluded himself into sending our god of war an invitation by despicable means."
"An invitation?"
Tom drew a sharp breath. His reporter's instincts had alerted him to the story's news value.
"That's right. An invitation."
Lynn chuckled softly.
"He wants our god to be a watchdog for his filthy cellar."
Tom fell silent for a moment on the other end of the line, then broke into uncontrollable gasps.
"Those... those damned German bastards! They're insulting God!"
"Make the story as dramatic as you can, Tom. Remember a few key words: imitation, jealousy, impotent rage, blasphemy."
Lynn guided him along like a whispering devil.
"I need every American who sees the paper to feel the injustice done to Soldier Boy and, at the same time, feel the utmost contempt and a visceral rage toward this so-called Red Skull. Living on the same planet as a thing like that is a disgrace."
"I understand!"
Tom's breathing grew heavy. He could already see how tomorrow's newspaper sales would explode; he could even see how enormous his year-end bonus would be.
After hanging up, the chill on Lynn's face did not fade in the slightest.
Strike first.
Before Johann Schmidt had a chance to present his "Hydra philosophy" to the world, Lynn would define him once and for all as "a freakish clown jealous of a hero."
On the battlefield of public opinion, first impressions were everything.
The next day, newsstands selling Stars and Stripes were mobbed.
The front-page headline was printed in enormous blood-red letters-
[The Joker's jealousy: the red mask from Germany's sewers seeks to recruit our god of war!]
The article was as inflammatory as it could possibly be.
Tom had carried out Lynn's instructions perfectly, portraying Red Skull as a perverted serial killer hiding in the shadows, his mind twisted by jealousy.
His "monsters" were accompanied by several blurry, processed photographs found in the ruins of Puppet Town. The limbs and stitch marks provoked visceral disgust among the public.
And a clown like that had dared to "desecrate" the god in their hearts.
Anger and contempt spread through the country like a virus.
People took to the streets, burning portraits bearing red skulls.
Before Red Skull had even formally stepped onto the stage of history, his name had already become firmly linked with words like "pervert," "incompetent," and "clown."
That was exactly the effect Lynn wanted.
Pressing his advantage, he announced through the Captain America Patriot Foundation that he would invest in an urgently produced wartime propaganda short.
Lynn employed several third-rate actors barely scraping by in Hollywood, but paired them with the finest editors in the country. The crew was assembled within twenty-four hours, and Lynn did not even visit the set; he arranged the entire shooting schedule down to the last detail through a few phone calls.
Footage of Soldier Boy fighting at the Giant base was intercut with the horrifying scenes Professor Pyg had created in Puppet Town.
On one side was Soldier Boy's majestic figure, bathed in "holy light," tearing steel apart with divine power and saving the people.
On camera, he was the embodiment of perfection, synonymous with strength and justice.
On the other side was a dark, damp basement, where a coward wearing an ugly red mask, played by an actor, stitched mutilated corpses together with needle and thread amid crazed laughter.
The stark visual contrast set the images of Soldier Boy and Red Skull in absolute opposition and fixed them in place.
"God" and "clown."
"Creation" and "mending."
"Light" and "filth."
The short, titled Wrath of God, played on a loop as an insert before the main feature at every movie theater nationwide and on television.
Washington, the Pentagon.
An officer with the rank of general personally called Lynn.
"Mr. Morris, on behalf of the Congressional Special Committee, I would like to express our highest respect for the glorious victory you have achieved on the battlefield of public opinion."
His wording was extremely formal, even reverential.
"General, I merely did what I had to do."
"No, you did far more than we imagined."
The general's sentiments came from the heart.
"Lynn, you can not only 'create heroes,' you can even 'define the enemy'!"
Those words made Lynn's true value clear.
The military's top brass had realized that this young man wielded a weapon more terrifying than artillery shells.
A power to shape thought, define good and evil, and manipulate the will of the people.
"After an emergency discussion, the committee reached a unanimous decision."
The general's tone grew serious.
"We need to systematize this power and make it a regular part of our operations."
"We will establish an entirely new secret department, provisionally named the Office of Strategic Psychological Warfare, and put you in full charge."
"The department will have its own budget and operational authority. You may draw on any resources, including military intelligence, to support your work. Your sole objective is to win this... war of ideas for us."
Lynn listened quietly.
He had leaped from being a "hero consultant," a collaborator operating outside the system, to a key cog controlling "ideology" in the war machine.
One of the core businesses of Vought, the commercial empire he had envisioned-"packaging hero and villain storylines"-had unexpectedly gained authorization and resources at the national level in this way.
"I accept."
After hanging up, Lynn looked out the window.
An authorization document representing supreme power would soon be in his hands.