The official press release from Vought regarding the Mayor of Baltimore’s plane crash was “a tragic accident caused by engine failure.” As the hero who “discovered the wreckage in the nearby waters,” The Deep was pushed out to face the first wave of media bombardment.
To put it bluntly, the company needed him to use his handsome face and his usual goofy, lovable image to shut the mouths of those sharp-nosed reporters.
The elevator descended, arriving directly at the media briefing room on the first floor of Vought Tower.
Before he even stepped out of the hallway, Chen Mo could already hear the clamor of voices and the rapid clicking of camera shutters outside.
The white glare of flashbulbs flickered through the glass doors, resembling a tumultuous sea of silver.
Ashley had been waiting outside the door for a while.
She had already put on her perfect PR smile, but when she saw Chen Mo walk out, a flicker of relief still flashed in her eyes.
She hurried over in her high heels, lowered her voice, and spoke rapidly: “Listen, The Deep.
There are a few troublemakers from Fox and CNN among the reporters out there, and they will definitely ask you why The Seven didn’t intercept the plane beforehand.
You just need to stick to the line: ‘It was a sudden tragedy that occurred in the deep sea, and we did our utmost to rescue them.’ Understand?
Read from the script, and for heaven’s sake, don’t try to use any of your damn humor!” “Don’t worry, Ashley, I’m in perfect shape right now.” Chen Mo winked at her.
“God help us.” Ashley patted her chest and stepped aside.
Two tall Vought security guards pulled open the doors.
In an instant, blinding camera flashes flooded the area.
Chen Mo narrowed his eyes slightly, but his footsteps didn’t falter in the slightest.
He took a deep breath, and a complex expression of grief, exhaustion, and soldier-like determination appeared perfectly on his face.
Acting, well, since he was playing The Deep, he might as well put on a big show.
He strode to the podium and placed both hands on its sides.
Facing the countless microphones and camera lenses extended toward him, Chen Mo didn’t speak immediately.
Instead, he remained silent for a full three seconds, then said in a voice tinged with hoarseness and grief: “Ladies and gentlemen.
Today is a sorrowful day for all of Baltimore, for Vought, and indeed for the entire nation…” The reporters below instantly grew excited, the sound of shutters merging into an impenetrable roar.
In the eyes of this crowd, the person standing on stage wasn’t a superhuman, but a Vought scapegoat about to be torn apart by their questions to appease public outrage.
Yet as Chen Mo looked at the fanatical media below, a strange sense of amusement rose in his heart.
The script was written by Vought, the lines were edited by Ashley, and the plane was shot down by Homelander.
And he, Chen Mo, was standing at the center of this stage, watched by the entire nation, preparing to use the perfect lie to cover up a murder committed by a god.
This feeling of holding the entire world in the palm of his hand, honestly, was far more satisfying than just blasting each other with superpowers.
“Mr.
The Deep!
Mr.
The Deep!” As soon as Chen Mo finished speaking, the sea of media below instantly erupted like a disturbed hornet’s nest.
Countless arms were raised high, and microphones bearing station logos were practically shoved right up to the podium.
“How long after the plane crash did Vought receive the news?
Why, given the efficiency of The Seven, were you unable to launch a rescue before the crash?!” “There are rumors that the Mayor of Baltimore had questioned Vought’s Superhero Access Act before his death; was this crash really just a simple engine failure?!” The questions were increasingly tricky, even subtly edged like knives.
Ashley, standing in the shadows of the side door, turned pale, her hands gripping her clothes tightly.
She knew the old The Deep all too well; once that idiot was pressed by reporters, he would either start talking about dolphins or make confusing statements that would cause the entire Vought PR department to have a collective brain hemorrhage.
However, Chen Mo on stage was exceptionally calm.
He didn’t rush to refute them; instead, he lowered his head slightly, letting a few strands of damp hair fall over his forehead to hide the mockery in his eyes.
He adjusted the microphone, letting out a heavy sigh that was amplified throughout the room via the speakers.
“I understand everyone’s grief and anger, because a few hours ago, when I dove into that cold, dark, thousands-of-meters-deep Hudson underwater canyon, my feelings were the same as yours.” Chen Mo raised his head, his deep eyes looking directly into the camera, his gaze a mixture of exhaustion, pain, and helpless self-reproach.
“When I pried open the deformed cabin with my own hands and saw those…
those lives that had been working for the country just a second before, losing their warmth in the cold seawater, I even hated myself for not being able to swim faster, hated myself for not having wings that could tear through storms!” His voice began to tremble slightly, even carrying the choked-up sound of a man trying to hold back tears.
The sound of shutters below suddenly slowed by half a beat.
Those reporters who had prepared their long lenses and microphones, eager to see Vought humiliated, were momentarily stunned by this highly infectious display of emotion.
“It was the great power of nature, and a tragedy of force majeure caused by mechanical failure.” Chen Mo braced his hands on the podium, leaning forward, his expression incomparably solemn.
“The Mayor of Baltimore was a great public servant.
I swear in the name of The Deep that Vought has cordoned off the relevant waters, and we will spare no cost to recover all the remains to give the families and the American public an answer.
Now, please allow us to give the deceased their final dignity.” Perfect.
The PR team sitting in front of the backstage monitors couldn’t even help but want to applaud him.
With acting like this, it would be a shame if he didn’t win an Oscar.
If it had ended there, the support PR team, who frequently had to clean up after The Deep, would have given him full marks.
“But.” It wasn’t over yet; The Deep was still talking.
“They were not doomed to die.” As soon as these words were spoken, the reporters below, who had been preparing to disperse, froze in unison.
Their sharp professional instincts caught the scent of a more shocking scoop, and the frequency of the flashbulbs soared crazily once again.
Ashley’s fingers, which had just loosened in the shadows of the side door, instantly clenched tight, and the backstage PR department collectively groaned in dismay.
“In fact, we only received the news a full three minutes after the plane crashed.” Chen Mo let out a self-deprecating laugh, his smile filled with helpless sorrow.
He looked directly into the front-row camera and lamented: “Three minutes!
For people like us, what does three minutes mean?
It means a fate that should have been rewritten, it means the chasm between life and death!” “But why was there a delay of these crucial three minutes?” “Because we, The Seven, and indeed all of Vought’s superheroes, are not part of the nation’s official command system at all!” “We are like exhibits locked in a glass case, only allowed to enter to clean up the mess after a disaster has occurred and the alarm has been passed through countless departments!” The room below was deathly silent, with only the sound of breathing and the mechanical clicks of shutters remaining.
“If we could have received this news immediately, if the alarm system could have been directly connected to The Seven, we could have saved them!” “We have Homelander, we have Starlight, we could have saved these lives that died in vain!” Chen Mo’s voice trembled even more violently.
He pointed to the Vought logo on his uniform, his eyes reddening, tears swirling in his sockets, yet he stubbornly restrained them from falling.
“That was a great life, working for the country…
The Mayor of Baltimore, he trusted this country so much.” “And his child, my God, so small, so cute—just a few hours ago, I personally carried him out from the cold ocean floor.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Noct_Veyr Enjoying the story?