Beyond everything else, another question detonated across the world:
What exactly was the drug the Avengers and the Vought heroes injected when they fought those terrifying alien warriors?
Vought answered with a straight face on every major network—
The answer was hidden inside "Vought Super Functional Energy Drink."
From there, rumors spiraled out of control.
Whispers spread through underground forums and late-night talk shows:
the so-called twenty-minute version wasn't the real thing at all—it was just a degraded copy.
If you obtained a Golden Ticket.
If you proved you had talent.
Then Vought would take out the real serum—and turn you into an undisputed superhero.
From that day on, New York's streets carried a permanent, cloying sweetness.
The smell of Vought Energy Drink.
…..
"This is insane…"
On the factory floor, Dr. Connor wiped sweat from his forehead, staring at endless bottles of blue liquid rolling off the assembly line.
"We diluted the original T-VEX serum by one hundred thousand times! A hundred thousand!" he said urgently to Ashley Barrett.
"At this concentration, it's weaker than Red Bull! This is sugar water! You might as well sell syrup!"
"They're still buying it, Doctor," Ashley replied calmly, eyes glued to the sales reports.
"And we're an honest company. The ingredient list does contain T-VEX concentrate."
She turned the tablet toward him.
"Last week's sales alone surpassed Coca-Cola's entire quarterly revenue."
On the screen, news footage showed chaos everywhere.
Supermarkets erupted into brawls over crates of Vought drinks.
Sewers overflowed with discarded blue liquid—people didn't care about the drink, only the Golden Ticket inside.
"Golden Ticket!!"
"I need the Golden Ticket! I'm going to Vought Tower! I'll be Superman—even if it's just twenty minutes!"
A bearded middle-aged man sobbed hysterically into the camera.
Vought's strategy was simple—and brutal.
At this scale, even a one-in-a-million chance was far too generous.
So Vought adjusted the odds.
Five Golden Tickets.
Hidden among one billion bottles.
On Thanksgiving, the five lucky winners would be invited to Vought Headquarters and receive a genuine T-VEX injection.
Twenty minutes of godhood.
A mortal brushing heaven's edge.
The temptation alone was enough to crush rational thought.
"We're selling hope, Doctor."
Antony's voice drifted down from above the production line. No one had noticed when he arrived.
He watched the mechanical arms work tirelessly.
"The world's boring," he continued. "Everyone wants to be the protagonist—even if it's just for a second."
He picked up a freshly sealed bottle, twisted it open, and took a sip.
"…Too sweet," he frowned. "Next batch—less sugar, more caffeine. Make them more excited."
"Yes, sir."
-----
Washington, D.C.
Inside the White House, the fireplace crackled warmly.
The atmosphere couldn't have been better.
President Matthew Ellis personally poured Antony a cup of black tea—a courtesy almost unheard of in White House history.
Antony lounged on the sofa, tea in hand, as relaxed as if he were in his own living room.
"Antony, do you know what the latest polls say?" Ellis laughed, pointing at the reports on his desk.
"My approval rating is thirty percent higher than that idiot Thomas! Voters love your 'Last Line of Defense' film. They think this administration is the toughest in history!"
The door opened.
Ashley stepped in, holding an encrypted satellite phone, her expression tight.
"Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen." She glanced at the President, then turned to Antony.
"Mr. Starr—this is General Ross."
"What do they want?" Antony asked, already knowing the answer.
"They submitted a procurement request," Ashley said quietly.
"The military wants five hundred units of T-VEX to form a special operations force. They're offering an enormous price—and regulatory exemptions."
Ellis's smile vanished.
If the military bypassed him and struck a direct deal with Vought, what leverage did the President still have?
He needed that power for political stability, not for generals itching to start new wars.
Antony glanced at Ellis, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
Instead of taking the call privately, he tapped the speaker button.
"I'm Homelander."
General Thaddeus Ross's gruff voice blasted through the room.
"Homelander! This is Thaddeus Ross. We need to talk about that serum. I know you have stock—don't play scarcity games with me. The military can give you anything you want, as long as you—"
"General Ross."
Antony cut him off, calm and unyielding.
"I think you're mistaken."
"There is no T-VEX stockpile."
"What?!" Ross barked. "Are you joking? We saw it on live—"
"That was the final batch," Antony said evenly, eyes on the President.
"And given T-VEX's strategic value, Vought has made a decision."
"All future T-VEX production is classified at the highest level."
"We will not sell it to the military. We will not release it to the market."
Ross went silent for a beat—then exploded.
"You're hoarding it?! Starr, this is a national security asset! I have the authority to requisition—"
"We have only one buyer."
Antony interrupted again.
"At present, Vought Labs can produce ten doses per month."
"Every single unit has been transferred to the White House."
"Under the sole authority of President Matthew Ellis."
"…What?"
Ross froze.
So did Ellis.
The President snapped his head up, shock instantly transforming into unrestrained elation.
"So, General," Antony continued calmly,
"if you want the serum, submit a request to the President."
"Once he signs, we ship."
Beep.
The line went dead.
The office was silent for two seconds—
Then Ellis burst out laughing.
"Hahahaha! I can practically see Ross's face turning purple!"
He turned to Antony, gratitude and intoxicated power blazing in his eyes.
Ten doses.
Not many—but it meant only he held the key to creating super-soldiers.
The military wanted it? Beg me.
Congress wanted it? Beg me.
Antony had just handed him a scepter.
"Antony," Ellis said, standing and gripping his hand tightly,
"you're not just a hero—you're a true patriot."
"I just want to make sure power stays in the right hands," Antony smiled.
"For example… yours."
Ellis nodded, immediately offering his return gift.
"About that Superhero Registration Act Vought submitted—I've reviewed it."
He walked back to his desk, flipping directly to the final page.
"Some clauses are… bold."
"Like granting Vought heroes Qualified Immunity."
Qualified immunity—
a legal shield granting Vought heroes exemption from criminal prosecution for collateral damage, even fatalities, incurred during missions.
"In Congress, this will face enormous resistance," Ellis said seriously.
"It effectively turns Vought into a legally sanctioned instrument of violence."
"Resistance exists to be broken," Antony replied flatly.
"Just like the Dark Elf fleet."
"Well said."
Ellis picked up his pen and signed his name.
"I'll invoke presidential authority and fast-track this bill."
"Next week, I'll address Congress."
"I want you standing beside me."
"My honor, Mr. President."
--------------
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