The Good Life: Sales Pitch (ch. 14) (Patreon)

"Are you sure it's a good idea to turn them loose like that?" Yoruichi remarked as I took measure of my payday. The second one since the Eight was founded and, boy, I think I got somewhere in the ballpark of a 500% raise in my paycheck. Was this what it felt like to be a CEO? Because all of a sudden, making pay cuts so the board can get some fat bonuses made a lot more sense. This was a pretty great feeling.

I had more money than one man could spend in a lifetime. Enough to kick my feet up for life, let my kids go buck wild, and their kids would still never see a hard day's work in their lives. And I was going to get another kick up in a couple of weeks. Whoever said crime didn't pay clearly never saw the receipts -- it paid damn good, and my mind was alight with ideas.

"It's a terrible idea, but better to have them do the shit where I can see them than to have them sneak off. They aren't in the mood for listening. They want blood and payback. When they get it out of their system, maybe they'll want to listen to what I have to say," I said, popping another band off a bundle and tossing the bills into a steadily filling jacuzzi.

Yoruichi watched me, laying lazily in a patch of sun while I popped another band. "Even if the blood spilled is completely unrelated to the ones that experimented on them?" He questioned, watching me grab another bundle from a fat fucking pile of fat fucking stacks. Millions of dollars took up a lot more room than I had expected. Hollywood had conditioned me to think a million could fit in a briefcase or something. "You do know you can just use your power for that, right?"

"More fun this way," I answered, popping another band. "Doesn't matter if they're connected or not. They want to feel progress, even if their dumb asses are still at the starting line." Robin was helping Alex and the other supe we picked up, watching over them like a mother hen as they went about their business. Kimiko was being left to me to help her sort her shit out. Lucy was surprisingly focused -- there was only one person that she wanted to kill. The supe that worked at Sage Grove.

"When they calm down, we hand them a gang to oversee. Give them a little responsibility, something to tie them down. Get them invested. Sell it to them as a resource to get their payback, drum up some gratitude and some such. They'll always have blinders on when it comes to the folks that put them in that asylum, but we can widen them up to everything else." Tossing the last bundle, I smiled to myself and stripped down to my boxers before sliding into the jacuzzi.

I felt like Scrooge McDuck, I decided, leaning my arms back over the edge of the jacuzzi that was filled with so much money, yet I hadn't even bothered to count it out. Letting out a sigh, I settled in.

"Everything you thought it'd be?" Yoruichi asked, a chuckle in his voice.

"So much better," I sighed, leaning my head back. "Kimiko is the worst off. Physically, she's fine, but the fact that she has that sign language stuff tells me that she was mute before the Grove got their hands on her. I'll be helping her kill some human traffickers today for a little bonding. Should be fun." Kimiko was the most volatile -- I would be too if someone used me as an organ harvesting farm. Completely conscious and no pain killers because of the regeneration? Fuck me.

Then, as if to ruin the moment, my phone rang. Yoruichi pawed the phone down to me, and I swapped it with a hundred that flew off the balcony, letting it fall into my hands. "That one was… 3365… fucking…" I tried -- another exercise that I was trying out. I was trying to become aware of the serial numbers on every single Benjamin that I was soaking with. I was annoyed until I saw the caller ID. "Asami Sato. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"The hundred million that I found in an account," Asami's voice filtered through the speaker. Oh. Did Robin take care of that already? Shit, how much money was I making? Did Robin take that out of the kick up or was that a business expense? I was fine with it either way, but it was a real testament to how much I was making. “Did that come from you? I just found an envelope on my desk with some banking information for an offshore account.”

“That’s probably me,” I agreed. “Unless you can think of someone else that would be dropping a hundred million on you, of course.” I said, and there was a pause on the other end.

“Why so much?” Asami questioned, her tone guarded and suspicious. I guess I would have to kick up that question to Robin. "What are you hoping to gain from this?"

"I feel like we already had this conversation, so for the sake of brevity -- I just want to ruin Stan Edgar's day. And maybe if you have a killer robot, you throw one of them my way. Not going to use it on anything but, you know… robots are cool," I said, shrugging my shoulders as I sank chin deep into the money while Yoruichi hopped to the edge of the jacuzzi, idly swatting some bills. Every single one of them was crisp and clean. The only reason I wasn't naked was because the idea of getting a paper cut on my dick terrified me more than the Seven ever could.

"That's it?" I could tell that Asami didn't buy it. I guess seeing was believing.

"Yup. I'm just the bagman. You're the shot caller. I can have another hundred million next month. Maybe more. Maybe less. It all depends on how you spend it on fucking with Vought. So, you tell me -- what does Stan Edgar care about?" I asked her, kicking my feet up and wiggling my toes.

There was a small breath of disbelief on the other end. "Vought's stock price," Asami answered. "He doesn't have a family -- no wife, no kids. No brothers, sisters, parents or grandparents. As far as I can tell, he lives and dies for the company. So, if you want to hurt him? Hit him in prices per share." Asami sighed, making it sound like it was hopeless or something. "Good luck on that. Ever since… Heartless started going around, their stock has been up massively. Fifteen percent last quarter, and they're already up another five for this one."

As she spoke, I looked it up, and sure enough -- a whole lot of green and a massive spike in the stock price. Seemed like it only went up. Six months ago? I would have been up a hundred and thirty per share. It was like that GameStop shit all over again.

"I have a couple dozen silver bullets that can take care of that," I responded. I had kept the superhero sex club under my hat for too long as it was, and I think it was the perfect time to play that card. First, Lamplighter's death. Then the Seven's inability to capture me at his eulogy. The latest? New York's best and brightest were going to be in wheelchairs for at least six months. People were scared. I had cultivated that terror and now people were looking to their heroes more than ever.

I wonder what reaction people would have when they learned what fuck ups their heroes really were?

"You… want me to short Vought's stock," Asami realized. And I'm guessing that's what this was called because I had no idea what that meant. "That's insane. That could put my whole company at risk. They'll try to buy me out, and even if they can't, they'll become a major shareholder." More words that I knew existed but didn't have any particular meaning to me.

"You own fifty one percent of the company, right?" I questioned, getting a hesitant confirmation. "Do your board of directors or major shareholders have any major say in the company as it is?"

"Enough that they could cause problems. Especially if Vought buys them out," Asami pointed out. She was worried for her company. I felt that. I didn't much care for the idea of someone trying to take what was mine either. Still, she sounded rattled. She had been quietly hoping to take the money and do some light pushback, collecting a check to do something that she was already planning to do. I genuinely had no idea how big of an ask I was making, but I also didn't particularly care enough to learn. She thought that this is where it would hurt Vought? Then this was where I was going to hit them.

"I'll make sure that they don't," I reassured her. I would just take their hearts, simple enough. "And I'll have them buy out enough of the free range stock to prevent Vought from becoming a major shareholder. Don't even worry about that -- it's done and done," I reassured her, but I don't think that it had the effect I wanted it to. Oh well. "You can make whatever preparations that you feel you need but I want to start fucking with the price by the end of the week. It's currently sitting at a… three thirty-five. I really want to ruin Stan's day. I wanna hammer it down to two hundred at the very least." There was even talks of a stock split -- still had no idea what that was, but it sounded like a good thing, thus I didn't want it to happen.

"That's… that's doable," Asami decided, sounding like she'd rather not do it, but she was willing to anyway. She saw an opportunity. "Just give me a warning when you do… whatever you're going to do." She said, and in lieu of a goodbye, she simply hung up. That was a little rude, but whatever.

"Not everyone has a crusade that they're willing to fight for," Yoruichi reminded me.

I pursed my lips, looking at my phone for a moment. "Except she does," I returned, setting the phone to the side. "She's desperate for money but it doesn't feel like greed. She's using it for something." I was certain of it. How aggressive she was with marketing and developing tech? How she was throwing down with every major corporation? I recognized that kind of desperation.

"Can you really say that when you're half naked in a tub of money?" Yoruichi asked, making a solid enough point. I reached down to grab a Benjamin, smiling lightly when I managed to grab the correct one with the serial number I was looking for.

"I know desperation," I told him. "Way back in the day, it was just after my parents kicked me out of the trailer. I was on the streets, hadn't eaten in a week, was too scared to sleep and every time I did, I found my shit jacked or woke up in the middle of an ass beating. It was bad. But, then one day this rich fucker comes strolling by with another half starved kid. Pulled out one of these and told us to fight over it for him and his friends." I smiled lightly at the memory, "I remember thinking it was fake. I didn't know dollars went up that high -- I only saw ones and fives my whole life."

I dropped the hundred, "We both wanted it. Bad enough that only one of us got to walk away. I was getting my ass beat until I lucked out and grabbed a rock, ended up bashing the other kids head open. The rich fuckers weren't expecting that. Was a whole lot less laughing then, except for the one that made the bet in the first place," I said, running my hands through the money. "I didn't get it then, but I get it now. That hundred was worth killing over for us. For him, though? It was worthless. He could lose millions the same way normal folk lose loose change between the seat cushions. And damn, if that ain't something."

"... Asami is you in this story?" Yoruichi questioned, earning a nod.

"She's got that hunger in her. A hundred dollars is worth killing over for her. If that wasn’t the case, then she’d be doing this smart. How everyone else does it -- instead of massive jumps in capability for her tech, she’d do incremental to sell as many models as possible. Maybe with a different charger for each one,” I said, feeling it in my gut. “Instead, she’s coming out the gate swinging at everyone with tech that puts them to shame -- a good way to make waves, but that kind of business model isn’t sustainable. She’s smart enough to know that.”

Interesting. Very interesting. What could it be, I wondered? What could she possibly need so much money for? How much had she made by now? How many millions? Why exactly did she need more?

"Before you get distracted making another mess, you should clean up the one you've already made. The people that were arrested? A lot of them are talking. Especially the former members of the Eight," Yoruichi remarked, and almost as if to agree with her, I heard the sound of sirens reaching my penthouse apartment. I wasn't surprised by the news. I played hardball with them. They weren't ever going to like me or want to work for me -- no one likes finding themselves a blink lower in the chain of command, after all. So, I hadn't played nice.

So, it wasn't much of a shock that they were talking to save their own skins. They were probably trying to pin every single dirty deed that they had ever done on me at this very moment. "Is it going to cause a problem for Robin? She likes dealing with the day-to-day stuff, so I don't want to make work for her," I asked, reaching up and scratching underneath Yoruichi's chin.

I was currently lounging in her efforts and it seemed rather rude to dismiss that for my own entertainment.

"It was factored into the plans from the start, but I can't say it's not causing any headaches for her," Yoruichi said. "It's hard to recruit when your gang is public enemy number one, after all." He had a point there, I had to admit.

"Hm… well, I can make it up to her. Let's let them talk. After I wrap this thing up with Kimiko… I'll start a recruitment drive," I decided, thinking it through for a moment. Now that Vought and the government were hitting back, I think it was time to start taking a more active role. Claiming the hearts of some of the worst prisoners in the worst prisons would be a good way to make up for the losses in manpower, which should sooth Robin's woes. It'd be some more dirt in the eye for the government too. "They're going to make a big show of the Eight -- remind everyone that they're doing their jobs. I'll kill them then," I decided.

Yoruichi chuckled at that, but didn't elaborate when I tossed a look his way. Shrugging to myself, I closed my eyes and started practicing with my Room. Little by little, I was getting better.

And little by little, I was making my way to Homelander.

…

"I'm getting really fucking sick and tired of this. That fuck. That fucking fuck keeps fucking with me!" Homelander growled, pacing the HQ of the Seven. His hands were behind his back, the normal composed and friendly look on his face replaced with a scowl. It was the first time Cinder had seen him like this. In all honesty, she wasn't prepared to kill him yet, and she knew that there was precious little she could do if he really flew off the handle. And he was dangerously close to flying off the handle.

"No one is blaming you-" Madelyn Stillwell began, only to be silenced with a look.

"I'm down half a fucking point. I was promised I'd be up two!" He raged, smashing a fist into the table and ripping right through it. Cinder watched the rest of the Seven with curiosity, eager to see their reaction. Queen Maeve flinched ever so slightly, A-Train and the Deep flinched badly, while Black Noir was still. Translucent… well, he was still on his 'mission.'

"That was a return to your new baseline, but there are going to be more opportunities, Homelander. After this, there are going to be a lot more opportunities. The… unfortunate events at the award ceremony was enough to convince Congress to label the Eight as a terror organization," Madelyn said, trying to give the good news to a room filled with those that didn't care. Long term benefits.

It honestly felt like she alone knew what that meant.

"We'll be working in conjunction with the military?" Starlight questioned, proving that there was something between her ears. She was seated across from her, next to the Deep. Starlight had been enjoying her gift -- venting her frustration and stress upon him, and the Deep already looked worse for wear. It helped take Starlight out of her shell, too. Cinder recognized the signs all too easily and she was well prepared for Starlight's plan.

Madelyn seemed relieved that someone understood, "Exactly so. Which means that this isn't just a CIA case any longer. We'll have everything that the NSA has, and it's the first step forward in putting supes in the military-"

"I could give a fuck about Stan's wet dream," Homelander snapped, still frustrated. "Heartless. He made a fool of me for the last time. Where. The fuck. Is. He?" Homelander growled, the edges of the desk crumpling underneath his hands as he leaned forward.

Madelyn looked down at her notepad, though Cinder knew there was nothing in it. To protect her investment, she had been making friends in crime analytics -- a kind word there, a gift there. She even paid for a pizza party out of pocket to reward their efforts tracking down the gangs of the Eight. She had found the weak link in the department, and now she had a direct feed into Vought's side of the investigation. "We're narrowing down possible locations, but given his power is a limited form of teleportation…

"Find him," Homelander growled, the words unmistakably an order. "This here? It's gone on for long enough. I'm sick of him fucking with my ratings."

Madelyn seemed nervous. Even if she was the usual handler for Homelander, she wasn't used to seeing him this agitated. "It's our highest priority. If we find a lead, then you'll be the first to know. Until then, we have a number of soft headlines to make -- the members that you captured have confessed a lot of actionable information. We need to keep hitting back and soon enough, everyone will forget what happened at the award ceremony."

Not likely, Cinder thought. She was something of an expert when it came to terrorizing others, so she knew the lasting effects that the award ceremony would have. It was the second incidence of violence committed by Heartless on national television, only this one was quick. There was no lead up, no grandstanding. Simply one moment everything was fine and the next, everything went to hell. It was highly effective, Cinder had to admit.

"Yeah? How are we supposed to do that? A-Train is a useless fucking cripple," Homelander snapped, not done venting.

A-Train started to get up, "I'm not-" he started to argue, only to swallow the words when Homelander leveled a look at him. "I… I just… I need to heal a bit. I'll be back on my feet by the end of the week," he continued in a far less argumentative tone, sounding utterly defeated.

"You're a fucking joke. If it wasn't for the optics, I'd throw you out of the Seven," Homelander returned, rounding on A-Train and placing a hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze that made A-Train squirm. Cinder watched the exchange carefully and with interest.

Homelander's mask was starting to slip. The frustration and anger that he carried himself was bleeding through. Up until now, Homelander was polite. Friendly, even. Cinder recognized his mask was every bit as fake as her own, but he was far less skilled at hiding his true nature. And based on the reactions from the veterans of the Seven, his true nature was well known to them.

It truly was delightful. Cinder didn't know what brought her to this world, but it had her gratitude.

"And you. Deep. What the fuck are you even good for? Useless outside of water," Homelander said with clenched teeth, rolling Deep's head around just rough enough for it to look painful. "Starlight, you haven't fucked up yet, but I don't have high hopes. Maeve -- you're making us look bad here. Noir -- excellent work as always. And you, Supernova -- are you even part of the Seven? Did you replace Translucent? Because I can't fucking find him so you might as well." Homelander said, going around everyone. Starlight seemed suitably devastated by the words to convince Cinder that she had no clue who Homelander really was.

Or, rather, what he really was.

"I was told that he was on a long-term infiltration mission and was offered an invitation to sit with you. As did Mirko, but it seems that she refused," Cinder remarked lightly, looking to Madelyn. A light stirring of the pot that had the exact reaction she sought.

"Bullshit. Bull fucking shit. Madelyn, you really want to look me in the eyes and tell me that? Me? Do you?" Homelander said, leaning forward, a low threat in his voice. One that was heard from everyone. And the greatest heroes in the world did nothing but sit and duck their heads.

The world's greatest heroes indeed.

Madelyn was saved from having to answer when her phone rang. She quickly pulled it out of her jacket pocket, visibly thankful that she didn't have to answer the question. Then, with a single look at the screen, the relief became pure horror. Cinder sat up a little straighter, curious about what could make a woman such be so open with her expressions. Mostly because Cinder knew it had to be something big for her to be so horrified, yet not hide it behind a casual smile.

Then her phone went off. Then Queen Maves. Then the Deep, A-Train, and lastly Homelander.

Cinder saw that it was a notification rather than a call, and she clicked on it, but even before she did, she knew exactly what she would see based on the headline.

'Superhero sex club? Are our heroes having orgies and drug parties while our streets need protecting?'

Cinder fought off a smile at the sight -- it would seem that Law decided to pull the trigger on the I formation she gave him some time ago. There were videos to be found, all blurred out except for the faces. And there was quite the roster of heroes incriminated. It was a stroke of brilliance. Vought had leaned into heroes protecting the public from Heartless… but now, who could they rely on? After all, there wasn't a timestamp on the videos. For all the public knew, they were taken today.

"Well, Supernova," Homelander began, rounding on her with slow deliberate steps, making her glance his way as he presented his phone to her. It would seem the alert that members of the Seven had gotten was different from the one she had just received.

Homelander clicked the unmute button, letting a familiar voice ring out. Translucent's voice.

"I- god, please don't kill me! Don't kill me! I've told you everything you wanted to know! Everything! You-you-" There was palpable fear in his voice and the video opened up to a tortured and naked Translucent sitting on a chair. He was bound in place, absolutely filthy, and clearly terrified. "You said if I told you everything you'd let me go!"

"I lied," came the modulated voice of Heartless. "I'm a villain. I tend to do that," he added, his voice coming off screen.

"Please… Please! Please, don-" Translucent began to beg before Cinder heard the pressing of a button. A split second later, Translucent… well… he exploded. Gore splashed outward, hitting a glass window that was dyed red in the aftermath -- shards of bone, organs, and a lot of blood now covering the entirety of the room he had been in. It could be a fake, but the fact that Homelander was showing her…

Translucent has just been murdered by Heartless. That was the second member of the Seven he had killed.

"This was posted on a snuff site and it looks like it's the real deal," Homelander informed, rage in his voice. "It's already gotten out. So… welcome to the Seven, Supernova."

Perhaps she had chosen the losing side, she mused, offering a polite smile.

"Thank you for having me."