What does disillusionment feel like?
Starlight, Annie January, can tell you—
After everything she had been through.
After starting at age ten, spraying her hair with hairspray and traveling around to perform Britney Spears cover songs.
After sacrificing every personal hobby she had just to earn a chance at joining the Seven.
And then, damn Vought had the nerve to make her wait after she had already arrived in New York.
She had passed the final trial of America's Got Heroes. She was practically one step away from Vought Tower in the heart of the city!
But reality was like this: you could give a thousand efforts, and still lose to someone else's single whim.
The vacant seat in the Seven slipped right out of her reach—because it was filled by a complete newcomer. Someone she had never seen, who had never participated in the competition, never appeared in the media, and had zero public exposure.
So what, then, had all her striving been for?
The endless auditions.
The fake smiles.
Every sacrifice—
All of it, just to be someone else's warm-up act?
---
"No. Absolutely not!"
As the de facto power holder within Vought's executive leadership, Madelyn would not allow this to happen.
"Starlight was carefully selected by us. She stood out in a year-long talent competition. People love her! Hundreds of thousands are willing to open their wallets for her—voting, buying merch, buying albums!
"More importantly, I already informed the shareholders that we would announce her at the annual meeting. She was going to be the next America's sweetheart. How exactly am I supposed to explain this now? That the America's sweetheart has been replaced at the last minute by some nobody with a pretty face?"
She glanced at the stack of files on her desk. On top was a large photo labeled with the name "Joey Joseph Kent."
Madelyn had to admit that this guy—whose initials spelled "JoJo"—had a face that appealed to men and women alike. But she could not simply shelve the winner of America's Got Heroes and promote someone she knew nothing about.
That would seriously damage Vought's credibility and completely violate the company's long-standing principles.
Stan Edgar almost laughed when he heard the word 'principles.'
"Please, Madelyn. Vought's principle has always been that it has no principles. If we actually followed principles, the company would've gone bankrupt last century."
In Stan Edgar's eyes, Madelyn had misunderstood her role entirely.
"You're not responsible for Vought. You're responsible for Vought's shareholders. Stock price is one factor; shareholder intent is another.
"This time, it's the major shareholders calling the shots. If the stock drops, they can hedge losses through early selling and shorting, then buy back later. If the stock rises—which I personally think is more likely—then everyone is happy."
"What exactly is so special about him," Madelyn asked, scrutinizing the file, "that you're all so confident?"
The new member of the Seven looked painfully familiar—super vision, super hearing, super strength, near-invulnerability, and flight.
"Won't he overlap with Homelander's brand? Every decision we make for the Seven is about market differentiation and maximizing niche fan economies. Starlight perfectly fills our gap in female heroes—"
"Don't kid yourself, Madelyn," Stan interrupted. "Since Vought was founded, the annual 'Most Popular Superhero' rankings have only ever had one woman barely scrape into the top ten—Queen Maeve.
"The truth is, in the superhero market, most audiences don't like women who are neither sexy nor stoic, overly emotional, and self-focused. They prefer an alpha male with a compassionate heart and a body of steel—someone who abandons the self, bears everything, and saves the world."
Stan adjusted his tie, radiating elegance and authority, then turned to leave Madelyn's office, leaving behind an unquestionable directive.
"And most importantly—this is the board's decision. Your only job is to execute it. Don't worry about competing products. Homelander is just one relatively successful product among many.
"Heroes come and go. Only Vought stands forever."
---
"How about this suit? Or this one? And this one! I think you absolutely need a cape—just like Homelander..."
Stormfront was bustling around Joey, who stood bare-chested, surrounded by nearly every top makeup artist, stylist, and brand operations manager Vought had. She looked like a mother picking out clothes for her beloved son, shoving design sketches in front of him until his eyes blurred.
"Have you decided on a name yet? I can have marketing come up with something perfect—"
"No need. I've already decided," Joey said. As a Kryptonian, he didn't really have a choice when it came to names.
"It'll be 'Superman.'"
"Superman?" Stormfront froze for a moment, then a blush spread across her face. Her gaze grew even more infatuated as she placed her hand on Joey's chest, gently stroking it, her words slipping into a language he didn't fully understand.
"Yes! Superman—Übermensch! You truly are my Übermensch, little Joey!"
"Ahem—what about the suit, ma'am?" the brand operations manager awkwardly interrupted, cutting off Stormfront's near-ecstatic state.
"I've discussed it with Ashley from PR. What if we go with a gold-and-green color scheme? The chest emblem could resemble a sunflower disk, with a sun insignia on the mask.
"Of course, we'd include a cape—black-and-white stripes with a bald eagle in the center. That would symbolize Kansas's main agricultural products—wheat, corn, sunflowers—and cattle, while also expressing patriotism—"
"No. Absolutely not!"
Joey didn't even need to think to know how ridiculous that outfit would look. It was a walking collection of Kansas and American stereotypes. Wearing it would result in instant social death.
"First of all, I personally hate bald eagles. They're morally bankrupt birds—huge, lazy, and infamous for stealing food from other birds like ospreys! Second—"
He didn't need a brainstorming committee for his suit. In another universe, DC's editorial team had already perfected it.
"You absolutely cannot design your own suit! And bald eagles are our national bird! Never say something like that in front of a camera—"
The brand manager couldn't let Joey run wild. A sixteen-year-old kid couldn't possibly understand audience psychology better than a team of elite business and design graduates.
Thankfully, Stormfront cut in.
"Enough!"
The brand manager smirked and shot Joey a smug look.
"Exactly. Leave professional matters to professionals—"
"I said shut up."
Stormfront backhanded him without hesitation, slapping the dignity straight off the poor, chattering employee.
"Joey is a member of the Seven. One of the strongest superheroes in the world. He can do whatever he wants!"
---
Madelyn Stillwell, CEO assistant at Vought and the true executor of the company's decisions, now stood at the center of the grand auditorium, reporting this year's achievements to shareholders at Vought's annual meeting.
She spoke of G-Men's box office success, how Vought had transformed entertainment, soaring annual profits—and most importantly, Vought's superheroes.
With Lamplighter's unexpected retirement, the Seven needed a new member. At the same time, America's Got Heroes had crowned its winner: Iowa-born American sweetheart 'Starlight.'
Vought had poured enormous resources into the show and built Starlight a massive fanbase.
But the board had pulled a shadowy maneuver, parachuting in an unknown superhero with zero exposure, effortlessly replacing Starlight and rendering all of marketing's prior efforts meaningless.
It was too late now.
With resignation, Madelyn read from the hastily updated teleprompter and raised her voice.
"Now, allow me to introduce a special surprise—a brand-new member of the Seven."
The spotlight did not shine on the center of the stage as expected. Instead, it converged on the dome above the audience.
"Faster than a speeding bullet! Stronger than a locomotive! Able to leap over skyscrapers in a single bound! Look to the skies, ladies and gentlemen—and behold—Superman!"