Chapter 9: "Truth in the Light"


New York City – Vought Plaza

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the streets of Manhattan. People hustled about, weaving through the foot traffic of tourists and workers, but their pace slowed as they approached Vought Plaza. The massive screen that dominated the front of the towering Vought International building was broadcasting live footage of an upcoming event—one that had taken the city, and the country, by surprise.

Superman was scheduled to give a public address.

News had spread like wildfire the day before. Superman had chosen the heart of the city—the very streets where his battle with the asset had unfolded—to make his stand. This wasn't some brief press conference or a quiet interview with a reporter. It was a nationwide event, a speech that would be broadcast live to every corner of the country, streamed across televisions, phones, and computer screens. Every major network had been preempted to air it.

For the past few days, Vought had used every tool in their arsenal to paint Superman as a threat. They showed footage of the destruction in Midtown, twisted clips that painted his heroic rescue as reckless violence. Talking heads on TV debated whether the world needed to fear Superman or whether he was just another unaccountable god.

The smear campaign was working—at least it had been. But now, Superman was taking control of the narrative.


Vought's War Room – 30 Minutes Before the Speech

Stan Edgar stood at the center of Vought's war room, his eyes cold as they scanned the monitors displaying live feeds of reporters and crowds gathering for Superman's speech. Around him, a team of analysts and PR experts worked furiously, trying to predict what Superman might say and how to spin it.

Ashley Barrett, Vought's head of PR, hovered near the back, biting her nails nervously. "This speech... it's everywhere. There's no way we can control the narrative if he says something that catches on. If he turns the public against us—"

Edgar raised a hand, silencing her. "Calm down, Ashley. Superman may have the microphone today, but Vought controls the media. Our campaigns are already seeded into the public consciousness. A single speech won't undo everything."

Ashley nodded, though her anxiety didn't ease. "But what if he sways them? What if he manages to—"

Edgar's gaze flicked to her, sharp as a knife. "If Superman thinks a heartfelt speech can destroy Vought, he's more naive than I thought. Let him have his moment. We have far more than just public opinion on our side."


Vought Plaza – Moments Before the Speech

The plaza in front of Vought Tower was filled with people—civilians, reporters, police, all waiting in tense anticipation. At the center of the commotion, a large stage had been erected, with a simple podium bearing no logos or corporate branding. This was Superman's stage, and it stood in stark contrast to the world of PR and manipulation that Vought represented.

Behind the scenes, security was tight. Vought had insisted on controlling the event, offering their own guards, but Superman had declined. Instead, a few police officers from the city stood at the ready, watching nervously as the crowds gathered.

The air buzzed with excitement, but there was also tension. Everyone knew what was at stake. This wasn't just a speech—this was Superman's attempt to speak directly to the people, bypassing the corporate machine that had turned him into a target.

As the clock ticked down, the cameras rolled, capturing every angle. Reporters murmured into their microphones, some with skepticism, others with hope. Would Superman turn the tide, or would Vought's narrative hold?

Then, with no fanfare, no announcement, Superman appeared.

He descended from the sky, landing gracefully on the stage in front of the crowd. His iconic cape fluttered in the wind, and the light of the setting sun cast a golden glow around him. He stood there for a moment, taking in the sea of faces before him—some curious, some apprehensive, some filled with awe.

The cameras zoomed in, capturing his every move. Across the country, millions of people sat glued to their screens, waiting to hear what he had to say.

Superman approached the podium, his blue eyes calm but filled with purpose. He took a deep breath, then leaned into the microphone.

"Good evening," he began, his voice steady, but carrying the weight of someone who had seen the best and worst the world had to offer. "I want to thank you all for being here today, whether in person or watching from home. I understand that some of you may have doubts about me. You've seen the headlines, the debates, and the questions about whether I'm a threat to your safety."

He paused, letting the weight of those words settle over the crowd.

"I know why those questions are being asked. And I know who's behind them."

There was a murmur through the crowd, but Superman didn't flinch.

"Since I arrived in this world, I've tried to be as open and transparent as possible. I've tried to help, to protect, to be a force for good. But there are powerful people—people who don't want that. They don't want someone who can't be bought, someone who can't be controlled."

The cameras panned to the crowd, capturing the faces of ordinary citizens, many of whom had been swept up in the fearmongering.

Superman continued, his voice growing more passionate, more sincere. "Vought International—an organization that you've trusted for years to provide heroes, to protect you—has been spreading lies about me. They've shown you images of destruction, of chaos, and they've told you that I am to blame."

His eyes swept over the audience, his gaze filled with compassion. "But what they didn't tell you is the truth. They didn't tell you that it was one of their creations, an engineered weapon, that caused the destruction you saw in Midtown. They didn't tell you that Vought was responsible for unleashing that weapon in the middle of this city—endangering innocent lives—just to test me."

The crowd was silent now, hanging on his every word. Some looked confused, others angry, but all were listening.

"I don't want to be your enemy. I came here to help. And I still believe in this world's potential. I believe in the strength and the goodness of ordinary people. I've seen it, in the bravery of first responders, in the kindness of strangers, in the love that binds families and communities together. That's what I'm fighting for."

Superman stepped away from the podium, walking closer to the edge of the stage. His voice became softer, but no less powerful. "I don't ask for your trust blindly. I know it must be earned. But I ask you to look beyond the headlines, beyond the fear that Vought has been feeding you. Ask yourselves—who stands to gain from making me out to be the enemy?"

He gestured toward Vought Tower, towering ominously in the background. "It's not the people who want a better world. It's the people who profit from chaos, from fear, from control."

Superman's voice swelled with emotion, his sincerity cutting through the tension in the air. "I don't believe in ruling through fear. I believe in truth, in justice, in using my power to protect—not to control. And I believe in you—the people. You don't need to be protected from the truth. You deserve to hear it."

He paused, letting his words sink in before delivering his final message. "I stand for a world where power is not in the hands of the few, but in the hands of the people. I stand for a world where heroes aren't owned by corporations, where lives aren't collateral for profit. I stand for a world where doing what's right comes before doing what's easy."

The crowd, once quiet and uncertain, began to murmur again—but this time, the mood had shifted. Superman's words were resonating.

"I'm not perfect," Superman admitted, stepping back toward the podium. "But I will never stop fighting for what's right. I don't want your fear. I don't want your worship. I want your trust—and I'll earn it by my actions, not by someone else's lies."

He looked directly into one of the cameras, speaking not just to the people in the plaza, but to everyone watching across the country. "The next time Vought shows you something, ask yourself: why? Who stands to gain? And who's really looking out for you?"

Superman's gaze softened as he concluded his speech. "I came to this world because I believe in it. I believe in the good that exists in all of you. Don't let fear blind you to that. Don't let anyone tell you that hope is a weakness. Hope is what makes us strong."

With that, Superman stepped back from the podium, his final words hanging in the air.

The crowd was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, applause began to spread through the plaza, growing louder and louder until it became a wave of cheers.

Superman gave a small, grateful nod before turning and walking off the stage, his cape billowing behind him. The speech had been given, and the battle for the truth had begun.


Back in Vought's War Room

Stan Edgar watched the speech play out in real time, his expression unreadable. Around him, his team of PR strategists looked nervous. They could see the reactions from the crowd, from the online commentary flooding in. Superman's words were taking hold.

Ashley Barrett cleared her throat. "Sir... what do we do now?"

Edgar didn't respond for a moment, his eyes still fixed on the screen showing Superman walking off the stage. The sound of the cheering crowd filled the war room, but Edgar's face remained impassive. Around him, the team of analysts and PR experts scrambled to process the fallout of Superman's speech, the live reactions pouring in from all corners of the country.

Finally, Edgar turned away from the screen, his expression calm and calculated. "We stick to the plan," he said simply, as though Superman's speech had been nothing more than a minor disruption. "Superman may have won some people over today, but this is a marathon, not a sprint. We've been laying the groundwork for months. One speech won't undo everything we've built."

Ashley, still visibly shaken by the intensity of the public's reaction, looked doubtful. "But the people, sir... they're rallying behind him. It's all over social media. He's swaying public opinion, and fast. What if we—"

Edgar cut her off, his voice firm but calm. "We have contingencies in place, Ashley. Superman made a mistake today. He showed his hand too early. We'll use that to our advantage."

He turned to the wall of screens, each showing different news anchors dissecting Superman's speech. Some were praising his sincerity and courage, while others—particularly the ones funded by Vought—were already trying to spin it as a dangerous appeal to emotion.

"Double down on the fear campaign," Edgar ordered, his tone cold and precise. "Leak stories about his arrival from another dimension—make people question where he really comes from, what his true agenda is. Stir up doubt about his power. Push the narrative that no one, not even Superman, should have that much unchecked authority."

"But, sir," one of the PR specialists interjected nervously, "the speech was direct. People are responding positively, and the media coverage is turning in his favor. If we push too hard now, it could backfire—"

"It won't backfire," Edgar snapped, his patience thinning. "People are afraid of what they don't understand. And what they fear, they will eventually want controlled."

He paused, looking out at his team with steely resolve. "Superman thinks he's won a battle. But we control the war. Start the next phase of the campaign. Sow doubt. And, above all, prepare the asset for reactivation. We're not finished with him yet."

The room fell silent as Edgar's orders settled over them. One by one, the team nodded, turning back to their workstations, ready to implement the next stage of Vought's master plan.


Superman's Safehouse – Later That Evening

Back in his quiet, isolated safehouse, Superman stood alone once again, gazing out the window at the city skyline. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the soft glow of New York's lights bathed the room in a muted warmth.

The speech had gone well. He had seen the crowd's reaction, heard the applause, and for the first time since arriving in this world, he felt like he had finally reached them. The people were listening. They were starting to see through the lies that Vought had spun.

But it wasn't enough—not yet.

Superman had no illusions about what would come next. Vought wouldn't take this loss lightly. He had exposed them, but they were powerful, deeply embedded in every facet of society, and they wouldn't stop their smear campaign. They'd fight back even harder now.

He couldn't do this alone.

Just then, a soft sound caught his attention. He turned, sensing a presence nearby, but it wasn't hostile.

Out of the shadows stepped Starlight, her face a mix of concern and admiration. She had been at the speech, standing in the crowd, watching as Superman made his stand. And now, she was here.

"You did it," she said quietly, her voice carrying a sense of awe. "You really got through to them. I could see it on their faces."

Superman offered a small smile, but there was a weariness in his eyes. "It's a start. But Vought won't let this go. They'll keep coming."

Starlight stepped closer, her expression resolute. "Then we keep fighting. I'm with you, and so are a lot of people out there. The truth is starting to come out, and Vought can't keep hiding behind their lies forever."

Superman nodded, but his thoughts were still troubled. "They control so much. The media, the government, the corporations. I can't just punch my way through this. It's going to take more than that."

"You're right," Starlight agreed. "But you're not alone. People are waking up. They're questioning Vought, questioning the Seven. We just have to keep pushing. Keep showing them what Vought really is."

Superman turned to her, his blue eyes filled with determination. "They'll try to turn this around. They'll dig up more lies, more fear. And they'll keep using their Supes to protect themselves."

"Let them try," Starlight said, her voice fierce. "The more they push, the more people will see through them. You've already shaken them. Now, we just need to keep up the pressure."

Superman was quiet for a moment, considering her words. He knew she was right. The fight against Vought wasn't just a battle of strength—it was a battle of ideas, of ideals. And it was a fight worth fighting.

"I'll need your help," he said finally, his voice steady. "Not just you, but The Boys. Butcher, Hughie, Frenchie, Mother's Milk... they know how Vought operates. They've been fighting them longer than I have. If we're going to take down Vought, we need to work together."

Starlight nodded, though her expression flickered with uncertainty at the mention of Butcher. "Butcher's... not exactly easy to work with. He doesn't trust you. He barely trusts anyone."

Superman smiled faintly. "I know. But he's driven. He wants Vought gone just as much as I do. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen."

Starlight's resolve returned as she placed a hand on Superman's arm. "Then we do it. Together. Vought won't know what hit them."


The Boys' Hideout – The Next Morning

Butcher stood at the head of the table, a fresh cup of coffee in hand, as the rest of The Boys gathered around. Hughie, Frenchie, and Mother's Milk sat silently, waiting for Butcher to speak.

"So," Butcher began, his tone casual but laced with that familiar edge, "the alien made his big speech, did his whole truth-and-justice routine. And now Vought's in a bit of a tizzy."

He glanced around the room, gauging their reactions. Hughie shifted uncomfortably, clearly still processing everything that had happened. Mother's Milk remained stoic, and Frenchie watched with quiet interest.

"Doesn't mean we're out of the woods," Butcher continued. "Vought's already plannin' their next move. They're gonna try to turn the tables again—make him look like the bad guy. But I reckon we can beat 'em to the punch."

Mother's Milk leaned forward. "What's the plan, Butcher? How do we hit Vought before they hit us?"

Before Butcher could respond, the door to the hideout opened, and in walked Starlight—followed closely by Superman.

The room fell silent, the tension palpable as Butcher locked eyes with the Man of Steel.

"Well, well," Butcher said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence."

Superman didn't flinch. "We need to work together, Butcher. You want to take down Vought, and so do I."

Butcher chuckled darkly. "Work together, eh? You really think we're on the same side?"

"We are," Superman said, stepping forward. "Because we both know what Vought really is. They're not heroes. They're a corporation built on lies, manipulation, and control. And it's time we took them down—for good."

Butcher stared at him for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Then, with a slow nod, he raised his cup of coffee in a mock toast.

"Alright, alien. You want to take on Vought? You're gonna need us. And trust me... you've just signed up for a bloody war."

Superman met Butcher's gaze, his expression unwavering. "I'm ready."