Boom! Boom!!
A massive fireworks display lit up the New York night sky, bright and dazzling!
At the same time a black sedan rolled out of the underground garage of Vought Tower. The driver was Ashley, assistant to Vought's vice president.
For tonight's event she'd spent serious money on a custom blonde wig that looked completely natural. As long as nobody yanked hard it wouldn't come off easy.
"Ashley, left at the next intersection. I need to swing by home and grab something," Queen Maeve said from the passenger seat.
"How long will that take? We're cutting it close on time."
Ashley glanced at Ryan in the back through the rearview mirror. They were still trailing the Vought convoy. Turning left meant breaking off from the group. The Seven weren't scheduled to appear until the second half of the event, but they still needed to arrive twenty minutes early for prep work.
"About ten minutes," Maeve said.
"Alright, I'll speed it up a bit." Ashley hit the gas and peeled away from the convoy.
While they drove, a black truck quietly appeared behind them. Ashley didn't pay it any mind. Just as she was about to turn onto a side road the truck suddenly accelerated.
Bang!
The impact slammed Ashley's head into the steering wheel. The airbag exploded and swallowed her. She was out cold in an instant.
Faced with the sudden crash, Queen Maeve instinctively checked the back seat. When she saw Ryan was unhurt she let out a quiet breath of relief.
Moments later several figures jumped out of the truck and rushed the sedan. All of them wore black ski masks like bank robbers, only their eyes showing.
Once they confirmed this was the target vehicle, one of them didn't hesitate. He swung a window-breaker hammer and smashed the rear window.
The others tossed several gas canisters inside. The canisters were packed with high-concentration halothane.
That shit could knock someone out in seconds, supes included. Unless you held your breath immediately you were going down. Queen Maeve was no exception.
Not that she even tried to hold her breath.
"Go!" Frenchie leaned halfway through the broken window, grabbed Ryan by both arms, and hauled him out of the car.
"Get in!"
Their moves were sharp and fast. Even the pedestrians on the sidewalk didn't react until the truck had already vanished from the scene. Only then did anyone think to call the cops.
...
"Welcome, everyone, to the grand finals of tonight's Superhero Selection Tournament! Let's hear it for our forty-eight contestants!"
The entire stadium erupted in thunderous cheers!
Backstage in the Vought lounge, Stormfront and the others sat on the couches watching the live feed on the big HD screen in front of them.
"Evening, everyone." Ivan pushed the door open and walked in.
Only The Deep stood up right away to greet him. The rest completely ignored his arrival.
"You've been doing solid work lately. All your numbers are up. You haven't wasted the investment Vought put into you." Ivan smiled.
"If you hadn't pulled me up when I was at my lowest, Madelyn would've kicked me out of The Seven a long time ago. Please, have a seat, Mr. Greevs."
Unlike the other members, The Deep had almost never had a peak moment since joining Vought. His popularity had always sat in the middle-to-bottom of the team. The only reason he'd made it into The Seven in the first place was that pretty face of his.
On top of that his power wasn't anything special. Just some guy who could dive and boss fish around. Everyone treated him like a walking joke.
Even Starlight, who'd only been on the team a few days, started looking down on him the second she figured out where he ranked.
Without Mr. Greevs's help he'd still be stuck diving underwater all day, then shooting up to the surface to flex his biceps for clicks.
So whether it was pure gratitude or just wanting to keep the status quo, he had to show Mr. Greevs the proper respect.
"Not bad. Once your movie wraps I'll send you a box-office bonus contract." Ivan was clearly pleased with The Deep's attitude. He patted the man's shoulder and smiled.
"Mr. Greevs, I honestly don't know how to put into words what I'm feeling right now. Seriously."
The Deep looked flustered and thrilled at the same time.
"You earned it. Keep performing. I've got high hopes for you." Ivan settled into a chair and casually crossed one leg over the other.
"A movie?"
A-Train looked straight-up jealous.
"Greevs, I'm a member of The Seven too. I should get my own movie, right? I've even got the title ready: A-Train Out of Africa. Tell the whole story of how I clawed my way from Africa to America and into The Seven. Box office would be huge.
And while you're at it, build me a VR game. Call it Grand Line." A-Train kept talking like the deal was already done.
"Grand Line? You mean the triangle trade?" Ivan had professional training. No matter how funny something was he never laughed out loud… unless he couldn't hold it. "Hahaha, that's actually a fantastic idea!"
"So you approve?"
A-Train stared at Ivan, excited.
He could almost taste the comeback.
Ivan just shook his head. "Are you fucking kidding me? Do you have any idea how much it costs to make a game? Looking at your face I can tell you know jack shit. If you don't want pure garbage you're looking at least a hundred million. You really think you're worth that? What a joke!"
Ivan didn't bother softening the mockery one bit.
"Hah. A superhero who can't even run anymore actually thinks he can make demands of me. Peak ignorance. And who the hell gave you the balls to believe your movie would sell? Your brother? Or your drug buddies from the club? Laughable." Ivan let out a cold snort.
Hit right in the sore spot, A-Train shot to his feet in a rage. "That's anti-Black racism! I'm reporting you to Edgar! I'll get your ass kicked out of Vought!"
His voice boomed through the entire lounge.
"Oh? When did I spout racism? Is calling you out for fucking up your entire career and IP because of drugs racist?"
Every supe in the room, Homelander included, stared at him like he was a clown.
Those looks stabbed straight into A-Train's fragile, hypersensitive ego.
"Fuck you! Don't forget I've been at Vought a hell of a lot longer than you, you fucking French piece of shit! What are you even supposed to be? Just some lucky bastard who stumbled into the VP chair. Who the fuck are you to lecture me?" A-Train clenched his teeth and growled.
"Hmm.. All of you, out."
Ivan's face stayed completely blank as he waved the staff out of the lounge.
Once they were gone he stood up, took one step forward, and locked eyes with A-Train in a deep, steady stare.
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Read 12 Advance Chapters—P@t- Captain69