I am preparing a team

Burbank, California.

The largest green screen studio in Hollywood.

This place has been transformed into a secret laboratory for the "Chaos" organization.

Azu was wearing a "battle-damaged" prop bodysuit and was tied to a cold metal laboratory table.

Surrounding them were "villain" actors dressed in white coats with ferocious expressions.

"OK! Anthony!"

The director shouted through a megaphone.

"We're going to...suffer! They're injecting you with synthetic chemicals! They're going to destroy your will! They're mocking you!"

"I want...rage! I want that look in your eyes, that...look of a beast that crawled back from hell! Understand?!"

"Action!!"

The clapperboard is struck.

The surrounding actors began reciting menacing lines: "Take a deep breath, Starr, dizziness is normal! You will be our strongest weapon!"

The prop telescopic syringe plunged deep into Azu's neck.

Azu's eyes closed.

next second.

He suddenly opened his eyes.

That wasn't the perfect smile of a homelander, nor was it Anthony's playboy face.

Those were... Wu Yanzu's eyes.

He remembered his past life.

He recalled being betrayed by the team he trusted most, and being framed by Liu Xingru, the very person he had made famous.

I remember his bankruptcy, his alcoholism, and his madness as he stood on the 44th-floor rooftop, unbuckling his belt in front of a shooting star!

I recall the extreme anger and resentment of being abandoned by the whole world and falling from the clouds into the mire!

"Uh...ah..."

He began to growl, his muscles trembling.

"Aa ...

A primal, violent roar erupted from his chest!

His eyes were bloodshot, and veins bulged from his neck to his forehead!

He frantically pretended to struggle, and the metal lab table creaked as he struggled!

The surrounding extras were so frightened that they took two steps back, and the actor holding the syringe was trembling.

The entire set was completely silent.

"...Cut!!"

The director's voice was trembling.

He stared intently at the monitor, forgetting to breathe.

"My God..." The director took off his headphones, letting out a sigh of relief. "This...this is fucking...this is...an Oscar-worthy performance!"

Azu slowly calmed his breathing, and the violent aura instantly subsided. He returned to being the "vulnerable" Anthony.

Acting... that's what I'm best at!

Ding! Popularity points gained +155! (From: Director)

Ding! You've gained +88 popularity points! (From: Extra A)

Ding! You've gained +120 popularity points! (From: Photographer)

Azu was overjoyed.

"Sorry, director..."

Ah Zu sat up, covered his face with his hands, and spoke in a hoarse voice, as if he hadn't yet come out of character.

"I'm sorry... I... I remembered some... unpleasant memories."

He looked up, his eyes red-rimmed, and the natural pain and vulnerability he revealed brought tears to the eyes of all the female staff members present.

...eye sockets.

"Did I...did I overact? Do we need another take?"

"No! No!" The director rushed over, grabbed his shoulders, and shouted excitedly, "No need! Anthony! This is perfect! This is exactly what I wanted! We've nailed it!"

Ah Zu lowered his head, a smile playing on his lips.

Damn it, I'm going to get that Oscar!

……

Hell's Kitchen.

Jessica Jones kicked the door open and threw a bottle of cheap whiskey on the table.

She turned on the old television that was almost smoking.

On television, Azu's handsome face is being interviewed by Time magazine.

"...Yes, I'm building a team. A team that's more efficient and more approachable than the Avengers. I'll call them...The Super Seven."

Jessica spat.

"More like a super circus..."

She picked up the black "V" card on the table.

"Queen Jones..." she chuckled self-deprecatingly, "What a stupid name."

But then she remembered that night, the kind of despair that went straight to her bones when that purple-clad bastard gave her the order.

She also recalled those two cruel yet pleasurable gazes.

"Fuck."

She grabbed her coat and stuffed the card into her pocket.

"...I'm just going to take a look. I'm not going to join that blond bastard's circus."

Editorial Department of The Bugle Daily

"Bang!"

Jonah Jameson slammed his fist on the table, his signature mustache trembling.

"A movie?! He dares to make a movie?!"

He grabbed the phone and roared at his subordinates:

"Front page! Get it on the front page! The headline is—'Narcissists Save the World? Homelander: A $200 Million Flattery Show!'"

"What?!" Jameson's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Walt Media... has acquired a majority stake in our newspaper and is going to hold a shareholders' meeting?!"

"When did this happen?! Yesterday?!"

"Fuck!!!"

Jameson angrily hung up the phone and slumped into his chair.

He looked out the window at Walter's huge logo, which resembled a mocking smile, overlooking the entire city of New York.

He grabbed a cigar, but couldn't light it no matter what he tried.

"Homelander...you win." He gritted his teeth, but also breathed a sigh of relief; the experience of skydiving was still fresh in his mind.

In that moment of frustration, a glimpse of green skin flashed by.

……

Inside the studio, Chaos's henchmen were firing wildly at Homelander—using their prop guns that made a "biu biu" sound.

Wu Yanzu, wearing the brand-new "Origin" version uniform, floated in mid-air.

The expression on his face? Pain, struggle, anger, and finally... determination.

"No—!!!" He roared to the sky, as if he were enduring the suffering of the world.

Then, he opened his eyes, which shone with a blazing light.

"Cut!!!"

The director rushed out, almost crying with excitement.

"My God! Anthony! Can you see that? You're on the monitor! You are Jesus! You are... America!"

"Ding! You have gained 120 popularity points!"

Wu Yanzu landed slowly, the pain on his face vanished instantly, and a smile appeared on his face.

"I just did what I was supposed to do, Martin." He patted the director on the shoulder. "For the fucking art."

Filming for Homelander: Origins is more than halfway complete.

Wotech's propaganda machine has already raised "expectations" to the stratosphere.

The trailer was released during the Super Bowl, and its thirty-second shot—an explosion, tears, and Wu Yanzu's handsome face tanned by war—caused the pre-sale system in theaters across the United States to crash three times.

"Ding! You have gained 150210 popularity points!"

"Ding! You have gained 205114 popularity points!"

"..."

"That's more like it." Wu Yanzu put on the silk bathrobe handed to him by his assistant and got into his private van.

"Sir," his chief assistant, Ashley, a shrewd blonde beauty with frameless glasses, was waiting for him with a tablet. "Both 'The Jimmy Show' and 'The Ellen Show' are vying for your movie premiere."

"Let them fight over it." Wu Yanzu took a glass of chilled soda water. "That's how you generate buzz."

"And another thing," Ashley's expression was somewhat subtle, "is a... woman waiting for you downstairs in the building. She said her name is Jessica Jones."

"She has your V card."

Wu Yanzu paused for a moment.

"Oh, yes, Jones... Queen." He smiled.