Location: Vought Tower – Markus' Personal Suite
Time: 12:43 AM
Markus sat in a minimalist lounge chair, dressed in a sleeveless thermal and black sweatpants. The room around him was dimly lit, filled with glowing screens and floating holos. Red strings stretched between data points pinned on a virtual map projected across one wall — names, photos, locations — fragments of Radiant Dawn's shattered network.
He sat forward, scrolling through decrypted texts, notes from Weller's confession, and newly surfaced surveillance clips pulled from a burnt safehouse in Kansas. Each click moved him closer. He was building a pattern. One cell leader had survived multiple facility purges — the same face kept appearing in blurry backfoot footage.
'Someone's always a step ahead.'
Knock. Knock.
He paused, brows raising. Only one person would show up this late without calling first.
He stood, walked across the suite, and opened the door.
Madelyn Stillwell stood there, tousled hair cascading over a deep wine-colored robe that clung to her frame. There was a subtle smirk on her lips — the confident, practiced one she wore in the boardroom — but her eyes were soft.
"Burning the midnight oil again, Mr Drake?"
"Some of us don't have the luxury of a boardroom nap schedule."
Madelyn chuckled. "I see sarcasm levels are healthy. That's good."
He stepped aside, and she glided in like she belonged there.
"Drink?"
"Maybe later."
She walked toward the map wall, eyeing the scattered intel. "You're close, aren't you?"
Markus sighed in response, "Close enough to know they're getting smarter. Desperation sharpens the fangs."
She turned, meeting his eyes — then loosened the tie of her robe.
"Well... for the next few minutes, how about we both stop thinking about desperate terrorists?"
The robe dropped in a fluid motion, revealing a lace and silk set beneath — deep red and dangerously fitted.
Markus smiled calmly and warmly. "And here I thought you came to talk about budget proposals."
He stepped forward, fingers brushing against her waist as their lips met. The data faded into the background.
---
Location: Undisclosed Radiant Dawn Bunker – "The Hollow"
Time: 1:07 AM
Cracked screens and flickering lights filled the underground chamber. Men and women paced anxiously as the hum of servers echoed. A digital board showed red X's over multiple bases — Miami, Detroit, Austin. Vought's wrath had been surgical.
Wendell Shaw, one of the last known active cell leaders, stood at the head of the war table, clutching a data slate. His left arm was wrapped in a compression brace — a souvenir from one of Black Noir's incursions.
"Vought took out three more bunkers in the last week. Frost and Noir aren't just tracking us — they're dissecting us."
The room murmured in tense frustration.
"Two more supply depots got burned. We can't keep producing vials at this rate."
"Encrypted chatter suggests they tapped one of our own senators. Weller's gone dark."
Wendell looked toward a younger man with shaved sides and glowing irises — "Spectre," one of their enhanced tacticians.
"They're pruning our tree before it bears fruit. But they missed something. The Sinaloa route's still untouched. We can relocate manufacturing to our Mexico pipeline."
Wendell nodded slowly. "Good. And the next operation?"
A woman with cold gray eyes and facial scarring — Riza, another handler — stepped forward.
"We go loud. Hit one of Vought's clean facilities in Europe. France or Belgium. Cause panic. Steal PR oxygen. Make them bleed in front of their shareholders."
Wendell growled. "Then we double blind the next strike. They'll think it's chaos. But we control the storm."
The lights flickered.
"They want war? Let's start one they can't finish."
---
Location: Vought Tower – Executive Conference Room 12B
Time: 10:00 AM
The chrome-and-glass walls shimmered as sunlight poured into the high-rise boardroom. At the center of the room, a long, immaculate table stretched under sleek ceiling lights. Holo-screens floated above the polished wood, flashing analytics, PR metrics, and social media sentiment graphs. Every seat at the table was occupied.
Stan Edgar sat at the head, suit immaculate, fingers steepled, eyes like steel.
Madelyn Stillwell sat to his right, composed with a subtle glow about her — her lipstick a little richer, her posture relaxed but attentive. She sipped her coffee, stolen glances flicking briefly toward the blank screen that listed ratings for The Seven.
Vought Department Heads Present:
Donna Reinhold, Marketing Director
Evan Prendergast, Analytics
Harrison Wu, PR Strategy Lead
Maya Sandoval, Talent Scouting Division
The current ratings board flickered to life on the center holo-projector:
THE SEVEN - CURRENT PUBLIC FAVORABILITY RATINGS (Q3):
1. Homelander – 92% Approval
2. Glacius – 89% Approval
3. Black Noir – 74% Approval
4. Queen Maeve – 68% Approval
5. A-Train – 47% Approval
6. The Deep – 39% Approval
7. Translucent – 32% Approval
Stan glanced at the data before speaking. "Translucent is still coasting on the novelty of full-body invisibility… despite a complete lack of mission highlights in the last year."
Donna, scrolling through her table,t responded. "Focus groups describe him as 'creepy,' 'irrelevant,' and in one case, quote — 'like a peeping tom who got a Netflix deal.'"
Laughter bubbles around the table.
Madelyn was lightly smiling into her cup. "Well, maybe we shouldn't have let him narrate that one docuseries."
Evan added, "His net contribution to positive engagement is trending negative. If we're being honest, the porn site leak didn't help."
Stan gave an order calmly. "He's out next cycle. No debate."
Donna nodded. Then, added "We've already been trial-ballooning replacements on socials. Starlight's name is polling favorably, particularly among female Gen Z and religious subgroups."
Maya joined in. "She's photogenic, controlled, and plays well in the 'small town girl makes it big' narrative. Her Q&A with Christian Values Weekly got 3.2 million impressions in a day."
Madelyn, delighted by that suggestion, gave her two cents. "She'll need refining, but she listens. I've had my eye on her since last year."
Stan nodded. "Good. Groom her. Prep her for rollout. We'll soft-launch her during VoughtCon, and officially induct her when Translucent retires.'"
Evan sighed and paused before speaking. "That leaves The Deep."
Harrison, grimacing, spoke up. "We gave him the Save the Dolphins PR tour. Instead, he's been caught groping interns and doing cameos for crypto scams."
"Still better than his movie career," added Madelyn dryly
Stan scoffed "We'll keep him another quarter. Then reassign him to the San Diego Initiative and spin it as 'ocean conservation partnership.' Quiet exile."
Donna continued scrolling and then brought up another name. "A-Train's approval is also falling. Overexposed. Substance rumors are circling again."
Stan barely though about it before responding dryly "Find a replacement. One with speed, charisma, and a clean background. I want prospects on my desk next week."
Evan, glancing up at the numbers, spoke with a smile. "Glacius' numbers have surged. Post-Radiant Dawn operations, the freeze clip from Detroit alone hit 76 million views on VoughtTube. He's become the 'tactical brilliance meets unstoppable power' brand we wanted Black Noir to be."
Harrison nodded in agreement. "He's the only one whose Q&A segments beat Homelander's last month."
Stan nodded, pleased. "He's effective. And frightening in the right ways. Keep his exposure balanced — just enough mystery."
The public loves him. He gets results. Internally, he's stable," said Madelyn with faint satisfaction
Stan eyed her, curious.
"You sound unusually relaxed, Madelyn."
"Just enjoying seeing competence rise to the top, for once," she said, not missing a beat, still smiling faintly.
Stan raised a brow. "Indeed."
Donna changed the topic.
"What about Maeve?"
Harrison adjusted his glasses before speaking.
"Flatlining. Not declining, not rising. Still has her loyal base. She's become… the familiar presence in the background."
Stan paused for a moment then responded.
"She stays. Stability matters. Besides… Homelander likes her around."
"And speaking of Homelander… Still unmatched in approval."
Stan scoffed the replied firmly. "Which means we tolerate his 'quirks.' For now."
A moment of silence followed — the weight of that sentence well understood.
Stan rose from his seat.
"Wrap up your suggestions. Send me dossiers on every viable candidate. I want at least three replacements lined up by next quarter. And keep monitoring Radiant Dawn's public sentiment. If they start gaining sympathy, we launch another media offensive."
The meeting began to adjourn. Madelyn stood with the others, but before leaving, she leaned over to Stan quietly:
"Glacius is meeting with R&D tomorrow about a specialized suit. If that's approved, he may be able to push Noir down the board too."
Stan glanced at her and nodded. "Let him rise. It's good for morale when the right kind of soldier gets recognized."
She walked out — her heels clicking, her smile unreadable.