The Good Life: Resolve (ch. 10) (Patreon)

"God damn," I breathed, blinking at the photo that Cinder had just forwarded to me. It was a picture of Starlight, standing before a mirror with a smile on her face. Which would make it a normal enough selfie, except for the fact that she was completely nude, showing off her modest bust. She didn't have any tan lines, I noticed, her lightly bronzed breasts capped with rosy pink nipples. What was more attention-grabbing was what was written on them in black sharpie -- 'Pinch Me' on the left boob while 'Hurt Me' was written on the right.

Her flat stomach gave way to her pussy which was marked with a thin landing strip of blonde pubes. Most shocking of all was what was written above her pussy -- a small cleft between her legs.

"Heartless' cum slut?" I questioned, tilting my head as I stared at the photo, feeling too confused to be aroused. My feet were kicked up on the coffee table, the news playing in the background while Black was curled up on my chest. He pawed at the phone, wanting to play or something so I scratched behind his ear. The more I looked at the picture, the odder it became. And to make things even more confusing, it wasn't just a single photo. It was a whole album.

The next photo was a picture of her on her bed, snapping a photo with the reflection of the mirror -- 'Heartless' property' was written on her ass. Sloppily. Telling me that she wrote it herself. The next photo was her spreading her pussy, revealing her slick pink passage, and spreading her asshole. There were a full dozen in total, each one in a model pose that showed off her body.

And I was more confused than anything. Black pawed at my hand, trying to turn the phone around. When I ignored him to continue flipping through, idly noting that Starlight wore the same exact smile in each photo, Black got up from my lap, jumped to the top of the couch, and peered down at my phone screen. A curious cat. He mewled and I sighed. “Yeah, I don’t get it. I’m not sure I want to know how Cinder got these either,” I added, tossing my phone to the side.

It was amusing that the newest member of the Seven turned out to be a degenerate. However, it was far more disappointing. The entire thing was just… so disappointing.

“I would have thought you would be more pleased with yourself,” I heard Robin comment from somewhere behind me. Black jumped to my phone, trying to turn it on but the touch screen didn’t register his paws. “Despite the inane and unnecessary risk that you took, things have progressed rather well. The story has taken hold. People believe it, regardless of the evidence shoved in their faces. A minority, true, but it has proven to be a rather vocal one.”

I was pleased with myself about that. It was nothing short of hilarious to see Vought doing everything that it could to do damage control -- releasing photos of Lamplighter’s corpse and death certificate, making statements, and so on and so on. It was enough for most people. And not a lot of people believed me in the first place. However, those that had their doubts had bit into the lies like a bloodhound and they weren’t letting go. It was absolutely hilarious.

I pursed my lips. “Are you a fan of heroes, Robin?” I asked her, switching the channel. Another commercial for Future Industries. Ohhh… was that a car/airplane hybrid? What? That was awesome! Robin didn’t reply to my question for a long minute, letting the commercial play out.

“I can’t say that I am,” Robin said after that long minute, her tone cautious. As if there was a wrong answer. I reached out and started petting Black, who was still playing with my phone. “You seem to be, however. Despite your determination to be their enemy.” It sounded like she really didn’t get it either. Which made it a question of why she was willing to indulge my whims like this. “You started sulking when you sent Cinder that video of Starlight’s sexual assault,” she added, sounding ambivalent about that fact.

I scratched at Black’s ears, looking for the words to phrase it. “I always looked up to heroes. Ever since I was a kid. I spent my childhood praying to god that a superhero would come and rescue me. I dreamed about it. I used to break into comic stores in the dead of night to get my hands on the latest issue of their comics and sneak into theaters to see their movies. They were my entire world,” I started, Black leaning into my hand.

He crawled into my lap and started purring while I continued, “None of them ever showed up, naturally. I lived in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Didn’t really resent them for that, though. Some people get saved and others get left out to dry. Such is the way of things. What I do resent them for is peddling false hope. There is nothing in this world crueler than making some punk kid believe that someone is going to save him. Because when that false hope is ripped away? Well… you end up with assholes like me.”

Robin didn’t apologize, thankfully. “How could you admire heroes then?” She asked, her tone guarded. She didn’t get it.

“Because it’s not really their fault, Robin. There just aren’t enough heroes in the world to save everyone. Statistically speaking, most people don’t get saved. Vought can throw all the numbers about arrests and whatever out that they like, but most people are left holding out for a hero that never comes. That’s what I can’t forgive.” I wasn’t special. I was just lucky enough to get singled out. Everything that happened to me happened to thousands and thousands of kids all across the globe. Every single one of them hoped and prayed that Homelander would descend from the sky, scope them up in their arms, and rescue them from their shitty life.

“Then you learned that heroes aren’t what you believed them to be,” Robin stated. That, she sounded familiar with. There was a bitter edge to her voice that couldn’t be mistaken as anything other than disillusionment. Resentment.

I nodded, still watching the TV. “I was a bit disappointed when I learned about the sex clubs,” I admitted, letting out a small sigh. “But I get it. Even if there’s not some rational explanation for them -- I still get it. I’m not gonna judge someone for what they do in their free time. If they want to have an orgy or some freaky sex, then all the power to them. It was unreasonable of me to expect the heroes to be buttoned-up and straight-laced all hours of the day.”

That was an unreasonable expectation. Heroes were still people at the end of the day. They got frustrated or stressed out. They had good days and bad days. The novelty hadn’t worn off with me yet, but I’m sure that spending all hours of the day in the spotlight had to get tedious. Annoying. Every single action being scrutinized and judged by the entire world that was chomping at the bit for the opportunity to drag them down. If a sex club and a shit ton of drugs were the answer to dealing with that stress?

Fair enough. I saw the appeal. Wasn’t like they were out there raping people or committing murder for kicks.

“I didn’t expect it, but I don’t hold it against them. Then the Deep started acting like a neckbeard incel with Cinder,” I said with a scowl. That was very disappointing. “It… A-Train is an idiot that has no idea how to use his powers. He should have been able to stop me the instant he saw me. Instead, he sat with his thumbs up his ass, looking at everyone else to do something. And the Deep. He’s just a piece of shit. Straight up. I honestly wouldn’t have a problem with that but he’s a hero. He’s the good guy. I’m the villain in this story,” I stated with annoyance, clenching my jaw.

The heroes weren’t who I thought they were. I’m not sure why I had to state this but doing drugs and going to sex clubs didn’t make someone a bad person. Sexual assault did. Complete incompetence when people's lives were on the line did.

I didn’t expect the heroes to be saints or the second coming of Jesus. I did, however, expect them to not be pieces of garbage.

“It feels like… I don’t even know. What was the point of all of this? The heroes that I wanted to beat aren’t actually heroes. This is lame. What the fuck am I supposed to do with this information?” I continued to grumble, sinking deeper into my seat as another sigh escaped me.

This was worse than learning Bill Cosby was a serial rapist simply because I actually looked up to the heroes. I admired them. Respected them. I believed in them. I sincerely believed that even if they were propagating this lie of safety and that people would be rescued in their hour of need, that the heroes were good people doing what they could to make a better world.

"What you need to ask yourself, Law, is what does this information change?" It was a very good question. However, it didn't come from Robin. Every thought in my head ground to a halt as I registered the deep male voice from right next to me. Slowly, almost in disbelief, I looked over at the source.

Black was seated next to me, looking right back at me. "That surprised that I can speak?" Black asked, and my jaw dropped. What? No, seriously, what?

What was happening right now? Did I do drugs? Was I having a seizure or something right now?

"Law. Your cat seems to be speaking," Robin voiced, sounding quietly shocked as well. At least that proved this wasn't a drug-induced hallucination if Robin could hear it too. My cat was speaking. My cat was talking to me. That was… this was…

"Cool," I muttered, shifting to look directly at Black. "So, what's up? How long have you been able to speak?"

"Since the very beginning," Black confessed.

"And you never bothered to say anything until now?" I asked, the shock wearing off and now I was wondering what Black was. Clearly, he wasn't a normal cat. And, suddenly, a lot of weird things that I had dismissed as weird cat behavior stood out a lot more. Following me home, the TV being on when I hadn't left it on, and so on. Little things that I easily dismissed. "What changed?"

To that, Black chuckled. "I simply had no reason to speak. That, and I kept imagining your expression when I did reveal that I could talk. You didn't disappoint." Did my cat just fucking troll me? "I suppose now that the cat is out of the bag, introductions are in order. My name is Yoruichi."

Did my cat just make a cat pun?

Wait- Yoruichi? Was my cat a fucking weeb?!

"... I'm Nico Robin. A pleasure to meet you, Yoruichi," Robin replied, the surprise wearing off and being replaced with faint amusement.

"Law," I introduced myself, while also starting to think back to all the questionable things I had been doing in front of an apparently sapient cat.

"The pleasure is all mine," Yoruichi- well, purred. "Revelations aside, Law -- you seem to be focusing on the wrong issue. What does it matter if the heroes didn't live up to your expectations? Those in power rarely do." And now I was getting a pep talk from my talking weeb cat. Who sounded like he had experience with this? "Does it change what you have set out to do?"

I pursed my lips, hearing what Yoruichi was saying. I heard it. I did. "No," I decided after a brief moment of thought, already knowing the truth of the matter. "It doesn't really change anything." I was already committed to this path. I was Heartless. I was going to see if through to the bitter end -- victory or defeat. It was all the same to me. "I just don't think it's going to be as satisfying to beat them anymore. I had so many cringe worthy speeches planned…"

Some teenagers wrote bad poetry. Or fanfiction. I wrote 'you suck' speeches in case I was ever in a position to say them. I brushed them off in my head -- it was one of the few things that I took from home. Most of them were bad, but angry teenager me did raise a couple of good points. It was such a shame that I wouldn't get to use them.

Yoruichi chuckled, "Truly? As I can see it, the only thing that has changed for you… is your enemy. Instead of the Seven, it's Vought. They're the ones that peddle this lie, as you call it, aren't they?" She asked me, making me tilt my head in thought. My weeb talking cat did make a very good point.

"I agree with Yoruichi, Law. Vought has always been in your sights. This merely reveals the order of priorities," Robin voiced her opinion. She, I would have thought, would caution… well, caution. She was careful. To this day, all these weeks and months later, I still haven't seen her face or stood in the same room with her, as far as I knew. Her encouraging me to go after Vought… that felt like something personal. Maybe it tied in why she was helping me with this in the first place?

I turned it over in my head. Homelander was my goal. My hero. The man that I looked up to. The man that I wanted to beat. What I felt about him didn't change at all, but what I felt about heroes did. Or, at least the Seven. A-Train had no idea how to use his powers. The Deep was a rapist. Starlight… she seemed like she had some issues she needed to work out, but that was hardly the worst thing in the world.

"Target Vought directly, huh?" I muttered, thinking about it for a good long minute. How would I go about doing that? No, actually… wasn't I already doing that? I had heard something about their stock prices falling or something. Still, that hardly seemed like the end of their company.

Almost as if to answer me, another commercial came on. Future Industries. This time, they were showing off a cellphone that was more of a handheld computer. As in, a high end one that could fit in your pocket. They did it by showing off a Playstation playing Call of Duty, and the phone was getting better FPS. The conversation that I overheard came back to me -- Vought was trying to fuck Future Industries into the dirt. They saw them -- Asami Sato -- as competition.

"You're both right," I decided, standing up. "There's no time for moping! I've got shit to do!" I said, feeling like my usual self again. I needed to practice with my powers -- they got a lot stronger during that fight. My range nearly doubled, and I hadn't even tested my fine control yet because I was so bothered about the Deep. I was about to let a golden opportunity slip right by me because I was disappointed with my heroes. "You're the best, Robin. Yoruichi," I added, scratching behind his ears and he leaned into my touch.

"Oh~! Right there…~"

And he made it weird.

…

"I look swanky," I voiced, glancing at my reflection in a glass window. My usual threads were left behind and replaced with a tailored suit. A casual one because I didn't trust myself not to murder someone if I had to wear a tie. Bowties were fine -- they were funny looking and posh. A tie screamed corporate slave labor. The suit cost me a good ten thousand dollars, so it certainly looked the part. And it wasn't as uncomfortable as I feared it would be.

I even got a haircut for the first time in about a year. Gone was the shaggy and unkempt hair, as it was replaced with a haircut that screamed sophistication. And that I totally could tell the difference between wines or pronounce their stupid names. I mean… the French, right? The entire language sounded like they had a loogie in the back of their throat.

Throwing on a practiced retail smile, I continued down the way and headed to the lobby of a building. Signs of construction were apparent as the building itself was a recent acquisition by Future Industries, as far as I was aware. In downtown Manhattan, too. Asami was certainly doing very well for herself in the rather little time she and her company had been active.

Right down the road, a few blocks over, was Vought International. I'm pretty sure the choice in location was deliberate.

The receptionist greeted me with a smile, "Can I help you, Mr…?"

"Michaelangelo," I told her. "I don't have an appointment, I'm afraid. But, I was hoping to get in touch with Miss Sato about something that was discussed during Lamplighter's vigil," I remarked, seeing her expression tighten, then perk up when she realized that I wasn't some random creep. After all, I had to be someone if I was invited to the vigil.

“Oh- I can’t promise anything, Mr. Michaelangelo, but I can message her secretary?” Spencer -- based on her nameplate -- offered with a smile. I returned it, giving a nod, and watched her quickly type up a message. When she was done, her gaze flickered to me. I knew that look. Yeah, I was sexy as fuck and I knew it. No shame in looking. “I’m sorry for asking, but if you were at the vigil… did you see Heartless? Is he as scary as people say?” She asked me, fluttering her eyes at me.

"He was terrifying," I said, trying to at least appear nervous. It was difficult considering how my lips wanted to curl up into a smile. "But, luckily, Homelander and Mirko were there to save the day." Homelander had been more cautious than I expected, but I could understand that. Mirko, however… she had impressed me. I was gonna fall in love. Her entrance? Her style? Ripping her arm out of socket just to keep coming after me?

Perfection.

"Luckily, hm? Poor A-Train, though. He blew himself up. I heard that he was going to be taken off the Seven because of his injuries. I hope they replace him with a hero that we actually know -- I mean, Starlight?" Spencer scoffed, chatting away as she leaned forward to give me a peek down her shirt. Don't mind if I do.

The Seven were like sports. Or, honestly, sports like football or baseball were like talking about the Seven. Everyone had their favorite hero. The towns and cities that produced a hero, if you go up to any one from one of them and asked who their favorite was, they'd say whatever hero came out of their city. So, it was normal to make inane smalltalk about them. And it never failed to drive me up the wall.

"Supernova is a shoe in. Mirko is a solid pick too," I ventured, recalling the pictures of Starlight on my phone. That was some ammo that I genuinely had no idea what to do with. Leak it online? I was a murderer. Not a fucking creep. I had very vague and ill defined standards, thank you very much.

"I was hoping that Supernova would be joining -- I'm a total Novalite," Spencer admitted with a bashful smile. "I-" she started, but I was thankfully saved by the elevator. Glancing over, I saw that it was Asami. She wore dark black business attire -- business skirt, heels, blazer, while she wore a dark red button down underneath a vest. In short -- she looked sharp. She wore a practiced smile when our eyes met.

"Mr. Michaelangelo. Please, this way. It's good to see you again," Asami greeted me, and I saw Spencer seemed a bit disappointed when I walked away. So, I tossed a wink her way as I headed to Asami. Never leave a lady wanting. Pretty sure my dad was supposed to teach me something to that effect.

"Call me Leonardo, please," I said, stepping into an elevator with her. Her smile got a little sharper as she pressed a button on the elevator panel.

"Or should I call you Donatello? Or perhaps Raphael?" Asami remarked, her tone light as a feather. Ah. She got me there.

"I could also be Shredder. Or Master Splinter," I added. She knew her ninja turtles. My respect for her got bunched up a few notches. "When did you figure it out?" I asked, not at all bothered at being caught. Asami searched my face, looking for a more pronounced reaction than mild amusement. She was hoping to get me by the balls with that one. Hardly. I was more curious why she was willing to meet with me if she knew I gave a false name.

"Roughly around the time I looked up your name and got nothing but ninja turtles," Asami admitted.

"You googled me? I think I'm going to blush," I admitted, and Asami seemed embarrassed and annoyed in equal measures. However, she narrowed her eyes at me while we rose up. "So, you know that I gave a fake name, but you still decided to meet me?"

"Idle curiosity," Asami retorted, but that didn't line up. Idle curiosity could explain letting me make an appointment at her convenience, me coming up to her, then calling me out. Instead, she dropped whatever it was she had been doing to come down to meet me. "You have a paper thin identity, and you still decided to show up here. I'm curious as to why." Perhaps it wasn't invalid as a reason, but I didn't believe it.

Interesting. Very interesting. "In layman's terms, I suppose you could call it a business offer, if you tilt your head and squint a bit," I said, and I saw it. I had her full undivided attention in a second. I didn't even throw out a number or anything. The very moment that I mentioned money, I had her interest.

Something that didn't line up. I couldn't say that I knew Asami well, but actions did speak. The recycling and green initiatives, the benefits of working at her company, and so on and so on? If it was just about money, then she wouldn't need to go the extra mile. Make a token effort, offer some high-profile donations, and she'd be golden.

"In what capacity?" Asami questioned as the doors slid open, revealing the office. I didn't see any cubicles, at least. Most of the floor was open, and there were some rows of desks with people at them but I was immediately struck by the sense of… no. It was the lack of crushing despair. The worker drones seemed happy enough, some workers having personal offices, and so on. It rocked the modern office look, as far as I could tell.

I pursed my lips, "Investment, I suppose. I overheard the conversation you had with Stan Edgar." I didn't get so much as a blink in response. "Also heard what he said, so you can color me interested."

"You have an interest in the military sector?" Asami questioned lightly, leading me to her office. It was on the second floor directly above us that was connected by a staircase. Recalling what I knew -- Future Industries owned three floors of the building, as well as other real estate around New York. I was sure owning a building in Manhattan was a mark of prestige for the business types, but Future Industries simply wasn't big enough to need a full building.

"I have an interest in giant robots," I corrected, earning a questioning glance. Then a dull gaze when she saw that I was serious. She stepped past her secretary, who had her desk right outside, and I saw a pretty good view of the city from her corner office. It was sizable and richly decorated. However, looking it over… it felt completely devoid of personality. Kind of like when someone clearly hired an interior decorator that knew their aesthetics, but they didn't match who the owner was.

Asami slid behind her desk, taking a seat across from me, and gestured for me to sit down. Oh. This was a nice chair. I had to get one of these. "If you overheard the conversation then you should know that it's a financial dead end. Vought already has commercials being shot to smear the technology and a number of politicians that previously expressed support for the concept are suddenly silent." There was frustration leaking into her tone, her eyebrows drawing together while a frown tugged at her painted red lips.

"Thinking about taking him up on the offer?" I asked, and how her gaze hardened, I was going to take that as a no.

"I don't have the political capital necessary to force the technology through. Lockheed and other military companies likely will, so I intended to sell the patent to them," Asami admitted. "Unless I have a reason not to, Mr…?"

Hm. Asami was chasing a payday. I had no idea what the designs for the robot would look like, but based on everything else she put out, I'm guessing it was pretty revolutionary and way ahead of its time. Meaning, for years -- decades, even -- she would have essentially a monopoly on robot soldiers. Given America was a big spender on the military, I imagine that payoff would be huge. But, she was willing to toss the potential payday of billions of dollars over the course of a decade in exchange for a couple hundred million today. Which still wasn't a small amount of money by any means.

It just told me that she needed money in the short term. For what, though? Rapid expansion? It took some companies a decade to reach the point she arrived at in a few months. I'm not sure how much faster she could expand.

Interesting. "If you're asking if I intend to buy the patents? I'm afraid not. I'm representing me, myself, and I -- and, rather unfortunately, I don't have the means to build the robots even if I had the patent. Sadly," I added. I watched her reaction, and just like that, her interest in the conversation took a very sharp downturn.

"I see. You mentioned that you were seeking to invest?" She quickly switched tracks, hearing what I didn't say. That I did have the means to purchase the patents. I just didn't have the ability to build them. "Before you begin -- allow me to state clearly that I am not looking for a partner. I will not surrender the controlling interest I have in the company." A total of 51%, if memory served. And the bylaws were so iron tight that her great-granddaughter was guaranteed to be CEO.

"Not really looking to buy stocks," I admitted. Didn't really have any interest in the stock market. Seemed tedious and annoying.

Now I saw the frustration starting to bleed through. "Then what do you intend?"

"I want to give you metric fuck tons of money, Miss Sato. Millions. Hundreds of millions. And I'll give it to you, all under the table and tax-free under one single condition -- you carve the profits out from Vought's bottom line." I told her, her eyebrows climbing high after a long moment. She didn't believe me at first. I could see the doubt in her eyes, but the longer the stunned silence stretched on, the more she realized that I was being serious.

Her lips parted, but words failed her before she managed to blurt one out. "What? You're serious? Why? Do you want to give them a bad quarter-"

"I want to drive Vought out of business," I told her outright. "I want to erode their bottom line. I want to kill their stock price. I want the executives tearing out their hair by the fist full because of all the bad press I give them. By the time we're done with them, I don't even want there to be bones left of that company," I told her with a smile on my face, picturing it now.

Stan Edgar. The CEO of Vought. He had impressed me. He really did. He had a spine that I hadn't expected, and it made this so much sweeter. I could only imagine what he would do in response or how he would react.

"What did they do to you?" Asami blurted out, looking like she regretted the words as soon as she said them.

"Nothing in particular. I just don't like them," I admitted with a small shrug. "Are you interested?"

She was. I saw it in her eyes. "Target Vought. That's the only string you have attached? No favors of any kind?" She asked, her tone wary.

"Wouldn't say no to a giant robot, but that's the only string. I can get you fifty million by the end of the day," I told her. Her eyes narrowed at the number. She was disappointed. She covered more zeroes. So, I gave them to her. "But, starting next week, I can forward you… an odd two hundred million." That caught her interest. Now for the kill shot. "A week."

My criminal alliance really was paying off. My first payout was a stupidly huge number, but since they started working together, this next kick up was absolutely massive. Robin admitted to having a small hand in it, but I didn't really care about that. I had conquered the gangs in New York for one purpose only.

It sounded cool and villainous.

"That's all you want? Just taking out Vought?" Asami stressed, looking for the other shoe, but she couldn't find it. It wasn't there. I didn't care about money. It was a tool to be used -- a means to an end, not the end itself.

"That's it. You can do whatever you want with the money. So long as you help me kill Vought with it," I said, standing up. "Are you interested?"

I already knew the answer. That was the expression of someone who knew they were making a deal with the devil. That knew there was going to be a catch. Asami already knew she was going to regret making the deal, but all the same, she offered a hand to shake. "I'm very interested, Mr…?"

"You're a smart woman, Miss Sato," I told her, shaking her hand. "You'll figure out who I am soon enough."

Based on how her eyes narrowed?

She already suspected.

This was going to be so much fun!