Lynn gave a quiet, inner chuckle.
This guy hadn’t even bothered to change his script.
Startups.
Market trends.
Returns on investment.
Just hold out a little longer.
It wasn’t that scammers couldn’t innovate.
They just knew that the old pitch still worked well enough.
Because the victims rarely believed in the project itself.
They just wanted to believe they wouldn’t fall for a scam a second time.
“Just cover things on your end for now,” Daniel continued.
“You work at Vought, your credit’s decent, and your salary is steady.
The banks won’t actually do anything drastic to you.” “And what if I don’t?” Lynn asked.
The smile on Daniel’s face finally faded a bit.
A car passed by along the street, splashing water.
The two men smoking off to the side looked over at the same time.
Daniel sighed.
“Lynn, don’t make this ugly.
You signed the contract yourself.
Legally speaking, it’s almost impossible for you to walk away clean.” He paused, then added, “Besides, a corporate giant like Vought probably wouldn’t appreciate an employee getting mixed up in debt disputes, right?” Silence fell over the air.
The sound of rain suddenly grew sharp and clear—pattering against umbrella tops, car roofs, and roadside trash cans.
Lynn looked at Daniel.
Daniel looked back at him.
The face that the original host had once trusted looked somewhat unfamiliar under the streetlights and through the falling rain.
No.
Not unfamiliar.
Finally clear.
Lynn didn’t shout in anger, nor did he charge forward to grab Daniel by the collar.
That would be a waste of effort.
He simply gave a slight nod.
“You’re right.” The tension in Daniel’s eyes relaxed slightly.
He thought he had won again.
“I knew you’d see reason,” he smiled again.
“After all, we’ve been friends for so many years.” Lynn asked, “What is this ‘new opportunity’ you just mentioned, exactly?” A glint flashed in Daniel’s eyes—the unmistakable look of a hunter watching his prey step back toward the trap.
“Not a good place to talk about it here.” He pointed toward the car parked at the street corner.
“Another day.
I’ll introduce you to a few people.
Friends with real resources—much more reliable than those banks and lawyers.” Lynn followed the gesture and glanced at the two men.
The tall, thin man flicked his cigarette butt into a puddle.
The man in the baseball cap flashed an unfriendly grin.
Lynn withdrew his gaze.
“Fine.” Daniel’s smile deepened.
“That’s the spirit.
Don’t worry, I wouldn’t screw you over.” The moment those words left his mouth, Lynn almost laughed out loud.
*Wouldn’t screw you over.* Some people lied for so long that they didn’t even feel the need to change their wording anymore.
Lynn simply asked, “When?” “How about Friday night?” Daniel said.
“There’s a place over in Brooklyn.
Quiet.
Good for talking business.” Friday.
The debt collection agency’s deadline was also 5:00 PM on Friday.
The timing was impeccable.
Lynn almost appreciated Daniel’s sense of rhythm.
It was a play designed to push him into making the worst possible decision at his point of highest anxiety.
“Send me the address.” “No problem.” Daniel reached out and patted his shoulder again.
This time, Lynn still didn’t dodge.
He merely committed to memory the spot where Daniel’s fingers landed, the force of the pat, and the scent of coffee, rain, and cologne clinging to him.
Some things stuck in the memory.
Not necessarily because they were important, but perhaps just to verify later: *So this guy really did stand this close to me once, treating me like an idiot.* Daniel turned and walked away.
Reaching the car, he turned back and waved at Lynn.
“Don’t stress too much, brother.
Life’s gonna get better.” The door shut.
The gray sedan pulled into the sheet of rain.
Its taillights dragged two red streaks across the wet asphalt before disappearing around the corner.
Lynn stood where he was, not moving right away.
A corner of his shopping bag had been soaked by the rain.
The cheapest frozen pizza inside was probably enduring the heaviest downpour of its entire pizza lifetime.
He glanced down at his shoulder—the spot Daniel had just touched.
Then he brushed it lightly.
The movement was faint, like dusting off a speck of dirt.
A few minutes later.
On the other side of town.
Vought Headquarters, Manhattan.
Warm light filled the executive lounge, champagne flutes reflecting gold in the servers’ hands.
Starlight stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the city beneath her feet.
She had just finished a round of promotional shoots.
Her cheeks were still stiff from the heavy lighting and prolonged smiling.
The staff had told her that tomorrow she would officially meet the members of The Seven.
The thought made her nervous, yet thrilled.
She had waited for this day for far too long.
To become a real hero.
To help people.
To stand in the light.
She looked down at her hands.
Her palms were slightly damp with sweat.
Not far away, a television screen was broadcasting an interview with Homelander.
He sat before the camera, his voice steady, his smile warm.
“We welcome every new hero who is ready to step up and take responsibility.” Starlight looked up, staring at Homelander on the screen.
There was still a light shining in her eyes.
At the very same time, inside an electronics shop elsewhere in Manhattan.
Hughie Campbell was leaning over, inspecting an audio system.
There were hardly any customers in the store.
Half a cup of soda sat on the counter.
His phone vibrated.
He picked it up and glanced at the screen.
A message from Robin: *Meet after work?* A small smile appeared on Hughie’s face—the ordinary, relaxed, unguarded kind of smile.
He texted back: *Of course.* Outside, traffic moved as usual.
Nobody knew that somewhere out of sight, the gears of fate had already shifted course.
Cut back to Queens.
By the time Lynn returned to his apartment, the rain had turned into a full downpour.
He placed the shopping bag on the dining table and checked the contents.
Bread was fine.
Eggs weren’t broken.
The lettuce had been half-wilted to begin with, so now it was merely obeying the laws of nature.
The frozen pizza’s packaging was damp, but no big deal—it didn’t look like the kind of food that surrendered easily anyway.
Lynn took off his coat and hung it up.
Washed his hands.
Boiled water.
Put the groceries in the fridge.
The entire process was methodical and orderly.
Only after taking care of every minor chore did he sit down in front of his computer.
The screen lit up.
He opened the folder labeled “Daniel.” Created a new document.
Title: [Daniel Reed — Contact Log 01] He began typing.
[Time: Wednesday, ~19:48] [Location: Street corner near Queens residence, outside supermarket.] [Weather: Light to moderate rain, average visibility.] [Contact Method: Initiated by subject.] [Appearance: Neat attire, trench coat, leather shoes, wristwatch.
Financial state clearly superior to claimed circumstances.] [Accompanying Personnel: Two males, suspected bodyguards or gray-market associates.
One tall and thin with neck tattoo; one stocky with baseball cap.
Alert behavior, not typical of casual friends.] [Key Dialogue Points:] 1.
Subject acknowledged debt validity, but attempted to shift financial pressure.
2.
Subject implied Vought employment background could be leveraged, carrying coercive undertones.
3.
Subject proposed “new opportunity,” pitch rhetoric highly consistent with prior fraud.
4.
Subject set meeting for Friday evening, location TBD.
5.
Subject maintains assumption that self remains susceptible to emotional, friendly, or psychological manipulation.
Here, Lynn paused.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Outside, the drumming rain grew dense, streaking the windowpanes into blurry grids.
He continued typing: [Preliminary Assessment:] “Daniel is not a mere absconder, but an active perpetrator of ongoing debt scams and fraud.” “Likely backed by a small-scale illicit syndicate.” “Friday meeting is highly unlikely to be a negotiation; high probability of secondary exploitation or extortion.” [Risk Level: Medium] [Action Priority: High] He looked at the text on the screen.
The sentences were calm, objective, structured like an internal corporate report.
No swearing.
No venting.
No emotional outbursts like “I’ll make him pay.” Yet the calmer it appeared, the more it signaled that something had settled deep beneath the surface—sinking to a much colder, darker depth.
His phone vibrated.
Daniel had sent the address.
Brooklyn.
Near the back door of a low-profile bar.
Accompanied by a message: *Don’t dress too formal, just relax.
We’re all friends here.* Lynn looked at the text and let out a faint chuckle.
*We’re all friends here.* He copied the address into the document, then created a new tag: [Trap Probability: High] Save.
Backup.
Close.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
Yet other faces floated into his mind.
Starlight standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Vought lounge, light still shining in her eyes.
Hughie looking down at his phone, smiling completely unguarded.
Daniel stepping into the car, waving and saying life would get better.
Homelander on screen talking about responsibility.
Everyone was moving along their own trajectory.
Some toward dreams.
Some toward disaster.
Some toward revenge.
While Lynn merely sat in a Queens apartment, methodically organizing their worlds into files, piece by piece.
He opened his eyes.
The document list sat quietly on the screen, like a row of drawers waiting to be unlocked.
Lynn whispered softly, “Starting with you.”