Eddie Brock fully agreed with his boss's demand.
After all, they were building a superhero squad, not a league of supervillains.
"Boss, rest assured. Anyone with a stained record won't make it through the final cut. If their crimes are serious, they'll become our targets for elimination."
Smith Dole nodded.
"Good. Begin the Black Robe Squad initiative."
······
With approval granted, the plan soon swept across the internet and mainstream media. The notion of a superhero team instantly exploded into the public eye—launched under none other than the Red Ribbon Group.
On YouTube, comments surged.
"Damn, are superheroes forming a team now?"
"Think God, Iron Man, and Whiplash will join?"
Replies came fast.
"Are you kidding? Those three run their own companies. No way they'd join another's."
"But still… a superhero team-up? That's insanely cool!"
While netizens cheered, underground gangs cursed. Smith Dole, Tony Stark, and Ivan Vanko had already made life hell for criminals. Worse, random superpowered individuals had begun donning masks, playing street hero for fun. With Venom also prowling the streets, the dark underworld found itself hunted on every corner.
Many gangs shrank back, retreating from New York. Those who stayed operated at a fraction of their size. The city had simply become too full of caped predators.
The Red Ribbon Group fanned the flames further. Their campaign sold the superhero squad as saviors of the people, urging powered individuals everywhere to upload applications, audition for glory, and—if chosen—stand beside legends.
Meanwhile, their corporate strategy spread deeper. Smith, Stark, and Vanko had introduced Superhero Property Insurance, now expanded with other insurers piling in. Civilian damages caused by super-battles were minimal, but the premiums? A goldmine. With compensation guaranteed, the public adored heroes even more. Some opportunists even drove their old cars into battle zones, hoping to get them totaled for payout.
The hype caught attention higher up.
······
Triskelion Headquarters — Director Fury's Office.
Coulson stood at attention.
"Sir, about the phenomenon we've called the Veil—still no leads. It's been a year since the last occurrence. Half the Earth fell into instant night, but satellites captured nothing."
Fury grunted.
"Fine. What about this Red Ribbon business?"
Coulson flipped through his file.
"Red Ribbon Group—originally Capsule Media, rebranded under Eddie Brock. He brought in two new partners: Ivan Vanko and Tony Stark."
Fury scowled.
"So this is Smith Dole, Stark, and Vanko's little project."
"Correct," Coulson said. "Stark and Vanko have injected their identities—Iron Man, Whiplash—as official intellectual properties. They've already begun lawsuits against bootleg manufacturers, and even purchased a toy company for official merch. Clothes, posters, masks—they're cracking down on all of it. Dedicated websites have gone live, selling authorized gear."
Fury's expression hardened.
"And this so-called superhero team?"
Coulson continued:
"I spoke with Brock myself. He admitted he's Venom—his power stems from a symbiote. His plan is to form a seven-member superhero squad, launch them as public idols, and build an empire of IP: merch, endorsements, movies, everything."
Fury raised an eyebrow.
"So he wants to turn capes into celebrities?"
"That's the idea," Coulson confirmed. "Red Ribbon will function as a normal business enterprise."
Fury chuckled dryly.
"Seven superhumans under one roof, and they call it business."
Coulson added:
"From all appearances, Brock answers directly to Smith Dole. This Seven is clearly inspired by our Avengers Initiative."
Fury leaned back.
"So. Our overseer isn't content with just Avengers. He wants his own private army of supers."
"Have we told Brock that superhuman affairs fall under S.H.I.E.L.D. authority?"
Coulson's lips twitched.
"We did. He showed us this."
He laid a document on the desk.
"White House authorization, sir. Officially approving Red Ribbon's project as a commercial initiative. Pentagon signatures as well—declaring the group non-threatening."
Fury's face darkened. Of course. Smith, Stark, and Vanko had pulled strings in both the Oval Office and the Pentagon. With that backing, S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't touch them.
The director sighed. Ever since the battle power scanners had revealed humanity's upper limits, the categories of enhanced, superhuman, and transcendent could no longer be hidden. S.H.I.E.L.D. had lost the luxury of secrecy. No more quietly bagging powered individuals and dumping them in ice cells.
The game had changed.
······
(End of Chapter)
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