The next day.
The Deep patted the young woman’s soft cheek.
“Starlight, wake up.
Today is the race between A-Train and Shockwave.
We need to go show our support for A-Train.”
“Mmh…” she groaned sleepily, letting out a soft nasal whine.
Her brain was slowly booting up, but her eyes were still too lazy to open.
Reaching back, she wrapped her arms around him, seeking his embrace.
He really had no defense against this clingy, spoiled girl.
***
“Starlight.”
“Maeve.”
The two women greeted each other and climbed into The Deep’s Camaro.
Joining them was Black Noir, the hulking figure who spent his life sealed in a leather bodysuit.
If you were talking about the most invisible member of The Seven, it wasn’t actually Translucent—it was Black Noir.
His tenure at Vought International was even longer than Homelander’s.
He was a relic of the previous generation of The Seven, a man who had once partnered with Soldier Boy.
Supposedly, during a disastrous mission, that older generation of heroes had suffered horrific casualties.
Even their leader, Soldier Boy, had died, while Black Noir was gravely injured—losing his ability to speak and leaving his face horribly disfigured.
Ever since, he had hidden himself away inside this full-body suit.
The Deep looked at the muscular behemoth.
Noir’s tactical suit was clearly inspired by Batman, but it was so tight his balls were practically bulging out.
He couldn’t help but complain, “Noir, can you loosen up that bodysuit a bit?
That way, I could imagine you’re a hot chick squeezed into that black leather, and I could do whatever I want with you.”
With his face completely concealed by the mask, Black Noir’s expression remained a mystery, but he furiously clicked his text-to-speech device.
“F-F-F-Fuck!”
“B-B-B-Bitch!”
Starlight and Maeve exchanged a look, both reading the sheer exasperation in each other’s eyes.
The Deep was an absolute degenerate.
***
The race between A-Train and Shockwave was held at the Queens Stadium in New York.
With a capacity of thirty thousand, the event was hyped under one major gimmick: Who is the fastest man on Earth?
Oh, what a terrible title.
The Deep would rather forfeit on the spot.
Once the tickets went on sale, they were snapped up instantly.
Even the cheapest standing-room tickets in the nosebleeds cost a whopping $100, while front-row trackside seats were being scalped for nearly $10,000.
And even then, demand far stripped supply.
From ticket sales alone, Vought International raked in nearly ten million dollars.
Add to that various sponsorships and broadcasting rights, and at least fifty million dollars was securely lined in their pockets.
This was Vought International, a company capable of turning absolutely anything into a spectacle.
The executives didn’t care who got into The Seven; they only cared about who brought Vought the most profit.
The four drove to the stadium and made their way to the backstage locker room.
A-Train stood there wearing an open blue boxing robe, showing off his perfectly defined physique.
Truth be told, Black athletes often possessed flawless muscle definition.
This was especially true for leaner, taller guys like A-Train.
His muscle mass wasn’t overwhelming, so the initial visual impact wasn’t massive, but when you actually looked closer, his lines were sharp, fluid, clean, and highly toned, resembling a classical Greek sculpture.
It was practically art.
“Go get ’em, A-Train!”
“Good luck!”
Starlight, Maeve, and Black Noir cheered their teammate on.
Then came a bizarre, flippant, and grating cheer: “Come on, you little bitch!
Grab your gear and tear Shockwave’s fucking ass apart!
I’ll be watching from behind to make sure you do!”
Starlight and Maeve buried their faces in their hands, speechless, while even Black Noir quietly turned away, ashamed to be associated with him.
The veins on A-Train’s brother’s forehead, who also served as his coach, throbbed violently.
A-Train stared at the degenerate with a long face, his features contorted in sheer disbelief and incomprehension.
“Deep!
What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Bro, your words hurt me.
I’m gonna deeply fuck your mother’s—” The Deep busted out a classic, stereotypical rap flow.
A-Train had finally had enough.
He swung a fist at The Deep.
Black Noir and A-Train’s brother quickly held him back.
“A-Train, calm down!” his brother urged.
“Calm down?!” A-Train roared in fury.
“How can I calm down, bro?
Look at what this piece of shit is wearing!”
A-Train’s brother looked at The Deep’s attire.
A white robe and a pointed hood with only two eyeholes cut out.
It was the infamous outfit of the Ku Klux Klan.
The KKK’s core tenet was white supremacy—exterminating Black people and carrying out that violent ideology.
Wearing this outfit and claiming he would “supervise from behind” was about as tasteful as Hitler inviting Jews to take a shower.
“Deep!
I am going to fucking kill you one of these days!” A-Train shrieked in absolute rage.
Starlight and Maeve hung their heads in shame.
Just when they thought they had grown accustomed to The Deep’s degenerate behavior, he managed to sink to a brand-new low.
The Deep pulled off the pointed hood.
Completely unfazed by A-Train’s fury, he was even more arrogant than the speedster.
“Listen here, you black bastard!” he bellowed.
“I put my entire net worth of 5.31 million dollars on you!
If you dare lose today, I swear to God I’ll punch you so hard your asshole prolapses!
Then I’ll sell you to India so you can bend over and serve those smelly dicks!”
Uh…
The furious A-Train fell silent instantly.
Even after being yelled at like that by The Deep, he didn’t offer a single word of rebuttal.
His brother’s eyes even welled with tears.
When it came to friendship with these brothers, it didn’t matter how harshly you swore at them; only your actions counted.
The Deep was willing to bet his entire life savings on A-Train, which earned him the ultimate respect.
A-Train stepped forward and, completely ignoring that The Deep was still wearing a KKK robe, pulled him into a tight, emotional embrace.
Tearing up slightly, he said, “Bro!
I won’t let you lose.”
The Deep still looked unimpressed.
“You’d better win!
Because if I go broke, you’re going down with me.
I’ll eat your food, live in your house, drink your booze, and sleep with your girl!”
Without a second thought, A-Train said, “No problem, brother.”
Starlight and Maeve watched the two men in absolute silence, completely baffled by the dynamics of male friendship.
“Get off me!” The Deep shoved A-Train aside in disgust.
“You stink like a damn black guy.”
Despite the constant stream of casual racism pouring from The Deep’s mouth, A-Train and his brother just smiled.
He truly had A-Train wrapped around his finger.
“Starlight, you and Noir are up.
Maeve, you’ve got that interview.
And I’ve got to go have an intimate interaction with my female fans.” The Deep outlined their respective schedules, then waved at A-Train.
“We’re out.”
A-Train waved back with a smile, watching as The Deep pulled the pointed hood back over his head.
On the way to the fan meet-and-greet, The Deep struck up a conversation with Starlight, trying to salvage his image in her eyes.
“Starlight, you know I’m not a racist.
I literally wash my white socks and black socks together.”
Black Noir’s device clicked furiously again: “F-F-F…”
The Deep gasped in disbelief.
“Fuck!
Noir, you’re a black bastard too?”