Watching these superhumans—once each nursing their own schemes—now trembling in their seats, every stray thought scared out of them, Fang Yuan finally studied them.
By any measure, none of them counted as real talent.
If Vought was willing to dump them, it meant not only were their powers mediocre, their brains weren't too bright either.
After all, anyone with even a shred of sense, anyone who understood even a hint of "Vought spirit," could still land a meal ticket there.
Still, Fang Yuan spotted a familiar face.
Not Heat-Wave Girl, but another woman with curves in all the right places.
Claw Woman.
One of The Seven—and A-Train's girlfriend, off the books.
As a member of The Seven, every detail of A-Train's love life had to pass Vought's audit; one wrong move could tank his market value.
Once a C-list starlet who'd shot a few films, Claw Woman had long since faded, living off dwindling savings; soon she'd be unable to pay rent.
So when she heard the MIB was paying, she jumped at the chance.
Right now she was swallowing hard; she'd come for cash, never expecting the MIB to demand lives.
Fang Yuan marked her as a priority target—not for her figure, but because through her he could reach A-Train and, by extension, all of The Seven.
Sensing their anxiety with Telepathy, Fang Yuan knew it was time to sell them the organization's creed.
"I know Vought paid each of you a visit."
His opener shocked them; they flinched, terrified he'd blow another head apart.
But Fang Yuan was only flexing to soften them up for indoctrination.
"What can Vought offer you… money? Fame?"
"The MIB can match it!"
He raised a finger. "But there's one thing Vought can never give."
Every eye snapped to him as he declared, "And that is—"
"Respect!"
Many Superhumans' expressions shifted.
"Plenty of you once worked for Vought, had your moment in the spotlight, but the second your popularity dipped they tossed you aside like dogs!"
Fang Yuan never used Telepathy to twist their minds, yet his words seemed alive, boring straight into their hearts.
Even Claw Woman's eyes glinted with rising anger.
People rarely blame themselves when down on their luck; it's far easier to pin their woes on someone else.
Right now, Vought fit that scapegoat role perfectly.
Normally the lifelong Vought brainwashing kept supes from fighting back—Fang Yuan was the exception.
Black Emperor Aura plus a little psychological nudge easily redirected their anger toward Vought.
"But the MIB can!" After crushing their reality, he painted a vision: "The MIB was founded by the Department of Defense; its subsidiary The Boys exists to Police superhumans—meaning you…"
He lifted a finger, sweeping it across the room.
"…will soon be the officials who regulate Vought, free to make their lives hell—out in the open!"
He turned to Kuchi. "Kuchi, didn't you gripe that Ezekiel stole your spot as religious mascot? From now on he'll tuck tail the moment he sees you."
Kuchi's eyes lit up, already picturing Ezekiel on his knees begging.
They all came from the same world; they knew most so-called Vought superheroes were far worse than outright villains—every audit hit pay dirt.
So every super in the room perked up; fear flipped into drive.
None wanted to miss this chance to grind Vought under their boots.
Fang Yuan nodded, sparing them another long speech.
That was enough; once they tasted the sweet kick of power, they'd become MIB loyalists by default.
Sure, some would skim and scam along the way—he didn't care.
The more perks The Boys handed out, the more supes would flock to join.
After all, from day one Fang Yuan never aimed to improve supe living standards or cut civilian casualties caused by Superhumans.
He only needed them to build hype for the MIB so he could advance his real agenda.
He folded every one of these supes into The Boys and unleashed them to harass Vought.
"Whoever nabs a target first becomes Captain of The Boys!" he promised.
The supes shot up like they'd mainlined adrenaline, tapping every contact to track Vought heroes.
They didn't even need to dig for dirt; as insiders they already knew plenty of dirty secrets.
The trick was figuring out who'd be easiest to catch.
Results came fast.
"Superhero Green Meanie Pursues Bank Robber, Leaves Seven Dead—MIB Takes Him In!"
"What Is The Boys?"
"MIB: Even Superheroes Need Oversight!"
"Vought Statement: Deeply Grieved by Casualties, Will Handle Properly!"
Kuchi and a squad cornered the emerald-clad hero "Green Meanie" in a bar; his whirlwind flight power tended to cause collateral damage.
News outlets exploded with stories about the MIB nabbing Green Meanie, igniting online frenzy.
Such incidents used to be common, but Vought PR always buried them—heroes on duty enjoyed immunity, even the Police looked away.
Yet Green Meanie had actually been arrested?
The MIB's name blew up overnight; netizens dove into the drama.
"We flooded the zone with bots but still couldn't kill the buzz—someone's pushing it behind the scenes!"
the PR chief reported to Madelyn.
Forewarned by Edgar, Madelyn wasn't surprised—just furious.
Entertainment was one of Vought's pillars; scandals hit revenue directly.
"What did The Boys say?" Madelyn asked.
"Oddly, they claim the case has been handed to the Black King—their boss—and none dared release Green Meanie."
"Damn it!" Madelyn cursed.
With official backing, the MIB tied Vought's hands.
But she had a move: "Find the victims' families—get them to exonerate Green Meanie!"
If the victims themselves saw no issue, the MIB could hardly keep hounding him.
What she didn't know: just outside her office, a Superhero in uniform draped in a star-spangled cape had overheard every word of her distress.
"Black King? Eliminate him and the problem's gone."
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