[Simulated Date of Incident: Year XX, Month X, Day X]
That date was tomorrow.
Lynn did not sleep all night.
The next morning, shrill news alerts blared simultaneously from every screen in his apartment.
“Breaking news! At exactly 7:00 AM today, a violent explosion rocked Chemical Plant No. 13 in the New York Port District. Billowing flames are rising into the sky, and casualties remain unknown…”
On the television screen, the familiar factory area, the familiar billowing black smoke—everything was exactly identical to the mock-ups he had seen in the emergency response plan.
The disaster had arrived right on schedule.
At almost the exact same time, Ashley’s emergency call came through.
Her voice held no panic, but rather an irrepressible excitement and urgency.
“Dr. Lynn, get to the command center! Now! Our ‘show’ is about to begin!”
When Lynn walked into the Crisis PR Command Center on the seventieth floor, it had already been transformed into a fast-paced war room.
Dozens of staff members sat before their computers with frantic, intense expressions.
On the massive screen wall, one side showed hellish, fiery footage coming live from the scene, while the other side displayed real-time charts of Vought’s stock price and social media trending topics.
“Drone One is in position! Perfect angle!”
“The press release goes out in three minutes! Use the headline: ‘The Gods Descend, Banishing the Darkness’!”
“Have the ground camera crew find a few survivors with ash on their faces and despair in their eyes—but make sure they’re good-looking—and get ready for close-ups!”
No one here cared about the casualties.
No one cared about the truth.
They were like a flock of cold-blooded vultures, circling over the disaster, thinking only of how to tear away the bloodiest, most viral pieces of meat from this tragedy.
Ashley shoved a freshly printed, still-warm schedule into Lynn’s hands.
“This is the final script for the live broadcast,” she said rapidly, pointing to the text.
“Homelander will arrive at the scene in ten minutes, entering through the top floor of the main building on the west side to rescue three trapped engineers. The names are confirmed, and their families have signed non-disclosure agreements. They know exactly what to say to the media.”
The script was word-for-word identical to the one he had seen yesterday.
“Starlight is in charge of using light energy to illuminate the rescue path, creating a sense of divinity. A-Train is responsible for quickly transporting the ‘designated casualties’ to the safe zone. The Deep… The Deep is responsible for doing on-camera interviews, talking about how the marine life is grieving over this explosion.”
Ashley’s arrangements were seamless, like a stage play that had already been rehearsed a thousand times.
Lynn did not speak.
He closed his eyes and pushed his super-hearing to its absolute limit.
Instantly, countless sounds flooded his mind.
The clacking of keyboards in the command center, Ashley’s impatient prompting, the distant wailing of fire truck sirens…
And then, he caught a more distant, weaker channel.
It was the emergency radio of the first batch of firefighters on the scene.
A raspy, desperate voice was screaming:
“Command! This is Firebird Three! We have confirmed signs of life in the underground pipe corridor on the east side! At least five people! Repeat, at least five people are trapped inside! Requesting heavy extraction equipment!”
*Bzzz…*
Static crackled over the channel, and then a calmer, colder voice cut in.
“Firebird Three, this is Vought Security Dispatch. The eastern structure has been declared extremely hazardous. To avoid secondary collapse, all rescue units must evacuate immediately and assemble at the main building on the west side.”
“But there are still people inside!”
“Repeat order! All personnel evacuate the east side! This is for your safety and to ensure the smooth progress of the primary rescue mission!”
The transmission cut off.
Lynn opened his eyes, a look of absolute coldness in them.
He finally understood.
Vought hadn’t just abandoned those people; they had actually used their authority to stop the professional rescue team from saving them.
Because the explosion site in the eastern corridor was too chaotic, too bloody, and too “unseemly.”
It was not suited for the epic footage of the gods descending.
“Ashley,” Lynn said.
“There are still people alive in the eastern underground pipe corridor.”
The smile on Ashley’s face stiffened for a second before she regained her professional composure.
“Doctor, I know you’re an expert, but when it comes to assessments at a rescue scene, please trust our professional teams.” She pointed to the dangerous area highlighted in red on the screen.
“There’s no chance of survival there. Forcing a rescue would only put the heroes in unnecessary danger, which would be an even bigger tragedy.”
“Is that so?” Lynn looked directly into her eyes.
“Is there no chance of survival, or is there just no publicity value?”
Ashley’s face finally darkened.
“Dr. Lynn, I hope you understand your responsibilities,” she said coldly.
“Your job is to ensure that Mr. Homelander completes this rescue in the most flawless manner possible, boosting the confidence of New York and the entire United States. As for those unavoidable ‘losses’…”
She paused, uttering a phrase that made Lynn’s skin crawl.
“…They are just the necessary cost of publicity.”
Lynn fell silent.
He knew that arguing about morality with this cold-blooded machine, which had been running for decades, was the stupidest thing in the world.
He looked at the screen.
Homelander was already clad in his blue suit, standing on the helipad atop The Seven Tower.
His cape billowed in the wind, and a flawless smile was plastered on his face—like a superstar about to step onto a stage to accept the cheers of millions.
“Alright, everyone pay attention! Thirty-second countdown! Homelander, prepare to deploy!” Ashley picked up her walkie-talkie, throwing herself back into her role as the director.
Just then, a private communication request came through Lynn’s earpiece—one only he could hear.
It was Homelander.
Standing at the peak of New York, overlooking the black smoke billowing into the sky in the distance, his voice carried a hint of anticipation and arrogance.
“Doc.”
“It’s my turn to go on stage.”
“The lines they wrote are too boring. What do you think my first line should be to make sure everyone remembers today?”