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"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to—Vought's New Era!"
The colossal stage slowly split apart. Dry ice gushed skyward, while several drones swooped overhead, scattering golden confetti.
It was the official debut of The Seven.
"First, let's welcome—"
"He's faster than a silver bolt of lightning! The speed demon from Eastern Europe!"
"—Quicksilver!!"
A silver blur whipped around the arena three times; the wind it kicked up flipped every front-row girl's skirt.
Pietro Maximoff skidded to a halt just beside dead-center stage.
He wore Vought's new design: sleek silver-gray fabric, an abstract lightning bolt across the chest, hair styled roguishly, and a pair of slick goggles perched on his forehead.
"Hoo—" Pietro whistled at the camera, eyes playful.
Backstage, during makeup, he'd argued with Anthony for a full ten minutes over the name "Quicksilver."
"Bullet-head? Seriously?" Pietro had flailed at Anthony's back. "Sounds like a condom brand, and bullets can't even catch my shadow!"
"No way! I'm not Bullet-head! I'm… Quicksilver. Got it? Quicksilver!"
"Quicksilver?" Anthony raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like some washed-up surf label."
"Silver's my main color," Pietro insisted. "Either Quicksilver or I streak onstage—nobody'll see a thing at my speed."
"…" Anthony stared for three seconds, then snorted. "Whatever—just don't go with 'Quick-Shot.' That'd torpedo your female fanbase. And stay away from Wade."
Now, onstage, hearing the thunderous chants of "Quicksilver! Quicksilver!", Pietro felt his blood ignite.
He gazed at the ocean of lights, the waving glow sticks, the placards bearing his name.
"Maybe…" he thought, "…Baron Strucker's mission can wait. This place… feels pretty good."
The host pressed on.
"She's living flame, the star of the darkest night! She wields Prometheus' gift like no other—Fire-Red Lady Angela!!"
Angela rose on a platform, blazing fire swirling round her crimson leather that gleamed in the flames. She blew a kiss; the flare burst into a heart of fire.
Next, Fastball Robbie bounded out in his custom elastic-ball armor—goofy moves, but that honest grin won the crowd.
Then came Invisible in the lights—nobody visible, just a mic floating mid-air—yet the audience still cheered politely.
"Hi, I'm Shabby… you can't see me, but I'm always watching you—uh, does that sound creepy?"
"Shut it, Shabby." Anthony, smile fixed, hissed through his teeth. "You stay away from Wade too!"
Everything stayed perfect—until Wade Wilson in red-and-black spandex appeared, pedaling a pink Hello Kitty kids' tricycle slowly, laboriously onto the stage.
The arena froze for a second.
Then burst into roaring laughter.
"Hey, folks! I'm Deadpool!" Wade waved while pumping the tiny pedals. "I picked the name myself: I might die, but I'll die serving you—romantic, right? I wanted 'Wolverine's Big Cousin,' but the licensing fee was murder!"
He rolled center-stage, reached under himself, and yanked out a bag of Skittles, flinging the candy like confetti.
"Eat up, sweethearts! That's Deadpool-love raining down!"
Ashley backstage buried her face: "Dear God… why did we sign him?"
The finale, naturally, was the King and Queen.
Anthony descended hand-in-hand with Jessica.
Jessica's icy glamour beside Anthony's solar grin became a perfect contrast.
"Homelander!!"
"Jewel!!"
At last the puzzle of The Seven was complete… upstate New York.
The former reality-show training center had been rebuilt.
A brand-new sign now stood at the gate.
Vought Global Defense & Hero Operations
Abbreviation: VGD
It would be America's—perhaps the world's—biggest superhero dispatch hub.
More than a department, it was a signal.
Vought's heroes were ready to enter the global security system.
The moment the plaque went up, the system prompt rang again.
"Host's organization detected as formally established and scaled!"
"Popularity-Squad module now online!"
"Rule summary:"
"1. Tribute mechanism: every registered hero inside the Host's organization (VGD) will automatically surrender 10% of their personal popularity to the Host."
"2. Joint liability: if a member's popularity drops below zero or the member dies, the system will deduct 30% of the total popularity ever harvested from that member as penalty from the Host."
Anthony's champagne hand paused mid-air.
"It's all extra anyway—no loss. Still, I'll have to keep these brats on a tighter leash."
…Next day.
Inside the vast command hall, hundreds of operators bustled while holographic maps flashed real-time emergencies city by city.
On the second-floor glass wall, Anthony sipped milk, surveying the hive of activity below.
Steve Rogers stood beside him in civvies, an instructor contract in hand.
"Looks professional," Steve admitted; Vought's efficiency put S.H.I.E.L.D. to shame.
"Of course." Anthony drank, a milk mustache circling his lip before his tongue swept it away. "We're private, Steve. Private firms don't keep slackers or red tape."
"So, Captain—have you thought it through?"
"V.G.D…" Steve frowned. "Sounds like an insurance company."
"Names are noise—function matters. Steve, there are too many heroes now. We signed hundreds from the tryouts, scattered them across the country."
"I can teach them how to win, how to smile for the cameras—but I can't teach them how to live like decent people."
"But you, Captain…" Anthony clapped Steve's shoulder, "…will tell them when to sheath their fists and when to help grandmas cross the street."
"That's why I need you as chief instructor."
"Any hero who fails your test doesn't get a license—doesn't go on duty."
Steve fell silent.
He studied Anthony; the man talked pure sales pitch.
Yet those words struck home.
In S.H.I.E.L.D., super-humans would be locked in the 'Icebox' or tagged for surveillance.
At Vought, for all its commercial gloss, they lived in the sunlight.
If he could shape their values… "Fine." Steve sighed, offering his hand. "I'll take the job—but the moment I deem someone unfit, even if he's your bastard, he's out."
"Absolutely." Anthony shook it. "You're the instructor—you call the shots. Salary will more than satisfy!"
"I don't need that much money."
"Then donate it to the Veterans' Fund."