"And you?" Clark asked. "You're working alone on the outside. Is that enough?"
"You don't know what I'm capable of yet," Jude said. "Between the two of us working from different angles, we're going to cause significantly more trouble than either of us could alone. I've been through enough universes to know how to survive on my own, and how to find the right people when I can't. You don't need to worry about me."
"I want you to call me immediately if something goes wrong. Immediately." Clark placed a hand on Jude's shoulder and held it there. "I'm not at full strength right now. My range is limited. I can't hear the whole city the way I normally could. Phone contact is the most reliable. But if you're close, a few blocks at most, you can call out directly and I'll come."
"Understood."
"I mean it, Jude."
"I know." Jude patted Clark's arm. "And I mean this. If I ever face something big enough that the sky is actually falling, I'm not going to try to hold it up by myself. That's what tall people are for."
Clark looked at him. "I am quite tall," he said.
"Exactly," Jude said. "See you on the other side."
The following morning, Superman signed the formal invitation to join The Seven and left for Vought International headquarters in a company car.
Douglas did not follow him. He detoured to a bank, returned to the hotel, knocked on Jude's door, and set a briefcase on the table.
"Mr. Jude. A hundred thousand dollars."
Jude looked at the briefcase. He opened it, did not bother to count the stacks of bills, and snapped it shut.
"I didn't sign a confidentiality agreement," he said.
"This has nothing to do with the agreement." Douglas kept his expression level. "This is a separate thank-you from Vought International. You were instrumental in convincing Superman to join. Consider it a finder's fee."
Jude fell silent, his eyes fixed on the leather case for several seconds. A quick, bright smile broke across his face, slightly too eager to remain dignified. He held it for two seconds before catching himself and smoothing his features back to a neutral mask.
Greedy, Douglas thought. And not quite smart enough to hide it. Good.
"Does Clark know about this?" Jude asked.
The question seemed obvious on its surface. Douglas's reading of it stemmed from his briefing, a night of background research, and the professional instinct of a man who moved money in exchange for loyalty. It was a tell. A greedy man asked that question to determine whether he needed to share, not out of moral concern.
"This was delivered to you specifically," Douglas said. "Superman will be amply compensated through his standard Seven contract and the associated commercial arrangements. Endorsements, productions, personal appearances. He will earn considerably more than this over time." He paused. "This sum is for you, Mr. Jude. It was meant for you."
Jude nodded slowly. He kept his lips pressed together, the corners twitching upward as he stared at the briefcase.
Douglas left the room satisfied.
Vought International's work the previous night had been thorough. Their background team had worked until morning, pulling every available thread on Clark Kent and his companion. What they found was unnervingly sparse. No extended family. Parents deceased on both sides, years ago. Social networks of striking narrowness. Neither man had close friends, ongoing relationships with colleagues or classmates, or professional associations of any significance. The two of them existed almost entirely in relation to each other, sharing a deep reliance formed in the absence of anyone else.
Recent powers, recent heroism. No prior footprint in any metahuman community.
The emerging picture was clean and simple. Superman was powerful, flagged by the technical team as potentially in Homelander's class. The only person capable of influencing him was the man who had just accepted the briefcase.
Madeline Stillwell's strategy was elegant. In most cases, it would have worked perfectly.
A hundred thousand dollars splits cleanly in half. If Jude concealed the money, if Clark never knew it had been offered or learned about it later, the seed of doubt was planted. Back then, you were the one pushing me to join. Turns out you took a hundred thousand to sell me. The sting of a quiet betrayal acted as a reliable solvent. It did not need to destroy the relationship immediately. It only needed to introduce the first fracture. In Stillwell's experience, fractures propagated on their own.
It was good work. It would have served its purpose.
It failed to account for a basic truth. Clark and Jude knew their time in this universe was finite. They would finish the task and return home. Every dollar in every account was a number on a screen they would leave behind. Greed requires a future where the money retains its value.
More than that, Clark's nature rendered the strategy useless. A hundred thousand dollars, concealed or revealed, would never produce resentment in him. Jude trusted Clark completely, a dynamic Vought's behavioral models lacked the capacity to measure because it did not rely on calculation.
Douglas reached his car in high spirits. Jude set the briefcase in the corner of his room, neither opened nor hidden, and went downstairs to find something to eat.
He spent the afternoon in ordinary ways: a walk, a meal, and eventually a chair in front of the television. He watched the screen, leaning forward slightly, waiting.
"—welcoming you to the red carpet outside the Vought International Convention Centre, where today's annual shareholders' meeting will be held—"
Reporter voice, Jude noted. Universally identical across all media. Whoever trains these people deserves significant credit.
"—in conjunction with the shareholder event, Vought International has confirmed the introduction of a new member to The Seven today. The company has announced that the new hero is a young woman whose hero name is Starlight—"
Jude watched the screen, keeping his expression neutral.
Vought is moving fast. The shareholders' meeting is too good an opportunity to waste.
The reporter's voice sharpened thirty seconds later, pausing briefly as she touched her earpiece.
"—we're now receiving breaking news from Vought International. I'm told... yes, we're confirming. Vought has just announced that in addition to Starlight, a second new hero will be joining The Seven today. This is an unprecedented development, ladies and gentlemen. The Seven will become permanently The Eight. We have no information yet on the second hero, but both will be arriving at the red carpet together—"
A murmur ran through the crowd on the screen.
"—wait, there it is. A Vought vehicle is pulling in—"
The camera found a black sedan at the far end of the carpet, moving slowly through the crowd. The car door opened.
Starlight stepped out.
She wore a white uniform trimmed with gold stars, cut with clean simplicity. Her blonde hair caught the bright afternoon sun, pulled back with a small white clip. Her eyes widened as she looked over the shouting crowd, her shoulders tensing slightly under the sheer volume of the enthusiasm. She waved. She smiled.
Pure. Unguarded. Entirely real.
Her name suits her, Jude thought.
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