Vought Tower, the eighty-second floor—the level reserved for the board of directors...
A man stood with his hands behind his back, facing the wall of glass, quietly looking down at the streets below. He savored the sensation of standing high above everyone else—of occupying the peak of power and watching the world crawl beneath him.
"Mr. Edgar..."
As the man enjoyed himself, an older woman—still tall and striking—pushed the door open and walked in.
"Stillwell."
"I need an explanation. That man—Jovian Grayson—isn’t in our Compound V usage records."
"In other words, despite repeatedly emphasizing secure storage, Compound V still leaked out of this company in large quantities."
The man didn’t turn around. He kept his hands clasped behind his back as if the woman didn’t exist. But his raspy voice dropped the temperature of the entire office by several degrees.
In his eyes, every single person with powers in this world was created with Compound V. If soone existed without a record, there were only two possibilities: they stole Compound V from Vought... or soone inside Vought was selling it under the table.
"Mr. Edgar, this is an accident. We’ve always maintained strict control over Compound V. People outside the approved channels shouldn’t be able to access it at all."
"Which ans Mr. Grayson is likely connected to one of our sanctioned test groups... or possibly he changed his na and our files weren’t updated in ti..."
Sweat poured down Stillwell’s forehead as she scrambled for explanations. No matter what, she couldn’t allow Edgar to feel disappointed in her—couldn’t let him question her competence.
"None of that matters."
"I will not allow this situation to happen again."
Edgar rapped his knuckles against the desk beside him, each strike broadcasting his irritation.
"I understand. There won’t be a next ti."
Stillwell imdiately nodded, swearing it wouldn’t happen again.
"Good."
"Now tell Jovian’s comrcial value."
"That bastard walked in and got one of my cash cows killed. If he can’t generate profits worthy of his na, I won’t let this go."
Edgar was furious. It was the first ti he’d ever seen soone dare to kill in his building—especially soone who’d been one of his top earners. If he couldn’t squeeze even more money out of Jovian than he’d lost, then this deal was a loss.
And Edgar didn’t tolerate losses.
"He’s perfect. Perfect across the board—looks, abilities, and the way he carries himself."
"And most importantly, he’s marketable in a way we can scale."
"We can use him to make more money than ever."
"Our next movie won’t just dominate the U.S. box office—it’ll crush the global market too."
"That ans I can bring in double."
"Let repeat that: double."
Stillwell was practically vibrating with excitent as she stared at the numbers in her hands and spoke.
"Fuck. That’s the best news I’ve heard in years."
"Clean up what’s left of Translucent, then stage a retirent event. Make it pretty."
Once Edgar confird Jovian’s value, his mood instantly lifted. As for the "cash cow" he’d just ntioned—Translucent—now reduced to mush?
A hero who couldn’t make Vought money anymore could go straight into a drain.
"Understood, Mr. Edgar."
"Also... Mr. Edgar. There’s a small issue with Mr. Grayson’s identity."
Stillwell hesitated, as if she’d rembered sothing at the last second.
"You handle it. Make it disappear."
"Rember: what I want to see is a perfect Jovian."
Edgar didn’t care what was "wrong" with Jovian’s identity. He only cared whether it could be cleaned up. A product needed flawless packaging—no defects allowed.
"No problem. I’ll deliver the most perfect Jovian possible."
"Then I won’t disturb you any further, Mr. Edgar."
Stillwell smiled and backed out of the office.
"Hm."
After she left, Edgar humd a little tune under his breath.
In his eyes, there was only dollars.
"Move faster!"
"Here—here too! Rinse it again!"
Inside The Seven’s hall, cleaning crews worked quickly, scrubbing the bloodstained floor until it glead. Their eyes were dead, like machines built for Vought: Vought told them what to do, and they did it—no questions, no curiosity.
"Congratulations, Mr. Grayson. Starting today, you’re officially a mber of The Seven."
Ashley—finally recovered from witnessing Jovian’s brutal solution to the Translucent problem—forced a smile as she spoke.
"Mm."
Jovian remained seated in Holander’s chair, as if he were thinking about sothing else entirely. When Ashley spoke, he rely nodded once, like acknowledging background noise.
"You don’t seem happy?"
Ashley asked carefully, watching him like a person handling a live wire.
"This isn’t sothing to be happy about."
"It’s sothing that was always going to happen."
Jovian answered without hesitation.
"Uh..."
Ashley went quiet, unsure what to say.
"Well, Mr. Grayson... in a mont we’ll have the other five mbers of The Seven co et you."
"As for Starlight, she’s still on her way. Tomorrow, after her public intro event, we’ll arrange a proper eting between the two of you."
Ashley smiled politely as she explained.
"Oh."
Jovian’s reply stayed flat and indifferent.
"Then I’ll head downstairs..."
Ashley felt irritation rising in her chest. She’d wanted to remind Jovian to get out of the chair—because it was Holander’s seat—but she couldn’t be bothered anymore.
Maybe letting this arrogant, self-important bastard learn a painful lesson would be good for him.
"Superhero Idol Project..."
"Turning superheroes into flawless idols."
"A superhero idol running for President of the United States..."
"Isn’t that the most ’freedom’ thing imaginable?"
Jovian kept thinking, and the more he thought about it, the more this world started to feel like one giant experint.
If his plan worked here, he could copy it all back into his ho world.
"If everything goes smoothly... what would my approval rating look like if I ran for President of the United States?"
Jovian stood up, hands behind his back, watching the traffic crawl past the windows.
If this worked, he could replicate everything in his ho world—build his dad, Nolan, into a perfect national heartthrob, manufacture overwhelming public support, and push him into the presidency.
Control Earth perfectly—without hurting Debbie.
Wouldn’t that be the ideal outco?
As for what would happen to this world if Jovian’s sudden idea turned everything into chaos?
Fuck. Not his problem.
TN: As a thank you for this first week’s Power Stones, I’ll be uploading a bunch of Chapters today. Thank you so much!
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