Slumdog Hero

Passing through the security archway, the area's central zone was next. Its high ceiling and windows offered a view of the drizzling night sky beyond. Though the design seemed a bit ostentatious for her taste, Serena had to admit there was a certain flair to it.

Each floor Serena passed on their ascent brought back memories of her encounters with the strict Dr. Montoya Tanner and her husband. Those sessions had been a whirlwind of tests, evaluations, and a lot of scientific jargon that made Serena feel like she was part of an experiment rather than an individual seeking to do some good in the world.

The elevator dinged, and she stepped off at her destination. They marched past the central pit where clerks and analysts plowed through mountains of paperwork at their computer stations. Always so busy. On either side of the walkway, transparent dividers allowed visitors to peer into their diligent work.

They climbed a flight of stairs leading to the top floor, the hub of administrative offices, and their steps echoed in the hushed atmosphere.

Then, just like that, the looming meeting awaited. Time to face the music. Again.

"I'll do all the talking," said an authoritarian figure, joining their path.

His name was Vale—from her agency—and he looked the part. The man wore a black suit with a white dress shirt. No tie, though. Not today. Vale had this charming little tic of pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up, and Serena wondered how many pairs of glasses he'd broken while angry or in a hurry. Something to ask at a less formal occasion. One without a major PR disaster to deal with.

Another day, another public embarrassment to cover. But hey, that's what they paid him for, right?

Vale shot her a sidelong glance. "Don't speak unless spoken to. Nod if you understand."

She offered a brisk nod.

"Good," Vale turned his head away. "Let's get this over with."

With that, Vale led them into the meeting room, a place that seemed more like a war room than anything else, probably thanks to the massive conference table dominating the center. The surrounding viewscreens came alive with Paragon's board members' faces, staring down at Serena.

Uh oh.

Vale escorted Serena to a seat at the table, his voice carrying an unspoken order to sit, then took his position by her side.

"Chairman and board, we come here today to resolve the recent controversy surrounding Ms. Holt's confrontation with the wanted Super, Axion," he began, his tone neutral. "Paragon's strategy to entrap the fugitive via public appearances in the slums has proven effective, with incidents involving Ms. Holt and Axion on the rise. However, due to the limitations of Ms. Holt's powers and the inherent risks involved when engaging in combat with a much more powerful Super, we have yet to effect a successful capture."

"That is putting it lightly, Mr. Vale," a stern female voice echoed through the speakers. It was Valda Vix, one of Paragon Entertainment's directors. She had a knack for sounding like a teacher who had caught her students cheating.

"With every clash, our public image suffers. Brand confidence is falling. Investors are retracting their support. Can't you see our market values have reached a historic low? Your... strategies have been ineffective in mitigating our financial losses. Need I remind you that every one of these incidents continues to remind our constituents about Prime's demise?"

Dr. Tanner's hologram, also projected onto one of the viewscreens, spoke up, "By now, it's no secret that Prime's untimely demise was not at the hands of a maniacal villain, but a supposed nobody."

"Our name," Vix interrupted, "has become synonymous with fallen heroes. What were we thinking, parading Ms. Holt around the slums, taunting a notorious 'hero-killer'? Was anyone expecting a different outcome?"

"To clarify," Vale interjected, his tone slightly strained, "Glimmerstrike is not an enforcer—"

"Maybe she should be," Vix's retort was swift and sharp. "Ever since Glimmerstrike's public debut, she's ever only engaged in charity work, smile-and-wave sessions, and a few life-saving heroics here and there. Her only crime-fighting accolades to date have been a mere two hundred and fourteen arrests, with a paltry eighty-six percent conviction rate. A C-minus at best if we're going by school grades. Some rising star we've bet upon."

Ouch. Those were some sharp barbs. Serena bit the inside of her cheek. She really hated this board and all their money-driven talk. Every word hit like a shard of glass, especially when the woman suggested re-education. Back to school with the babies. Or, worse, joining those freakshows on the Wall.

Oh God, I would rather eat mud.

Another of the board members, Arnold Reinhardt, cleared his throat and spoke, "You don't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, so the saying goes. Valda, the aim was never to apprehend Axion—not a single hero has managed that to date—but to vilify her.

"Not only do we need to sell Glimmerstrike to the public, we also need to sell the idea that Axion must be stopped. People needed a reason to hate her. All we've provided them with to date were words. What they needed were actions. Actions that show Axion is not your friendly next door neighbor. That she's a violent, sociopathic entity."

Serena could see the logic. Use her as bait, record Axion being Axion, and let the media turn her into the next big villain. The only problem with that? It hadn't gone down that way. Serena could have told them that plan had been stupid from the start, but no one asked her.

"Yes, and how did that turn out?" Dr. Tanner's hologram shrugged. "From what I've seen of her recent fights, the sentiment seems to be shifting the other way. All these incidents are reminding people how... ineffective our hero has been."

A man named Ketler spoke up next, "Serena's good, but she's no Prime."

Prime—the legendary Superhero with telekinetic powers. The one who put the 'Super' in Superheroes. The man who'd been a genuine inspiration for her. Sure, his power had been eerily similar to Axion's, but Serena couldn't imagine him as a heartless murderer. Or was he?

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Serena tried to look indifferent, but beneath her calm exterior, she felt a surge of irritation. Everything always circled back to Prime.

"I'm tired of hearing about Prime!" a board member snapped. "He's dead due to his own hubris. Don't pretend that man was some symbol of righteousness. Just admit that everyone can now breathe easier since Axion removed that scourge from our midst. It's hard to convince the public of how saintly his intentions were when half of them openly cheered for his demise."

Serena could hardly believe what she was hearing. They were actually bad-mouthing a Superhero—a dead one at that—someone she had aspired to emulate, sitting in the very same room as her! She'd had her own reservations about him, of course, but now her agency seemed to be openly disrespecting the deceased icon.

"You guys realize I'm sitting right here, right?" she finally spoke up.

Vale's face turned stern, and he extended a hand towards her, motioning her to be quiet. But Serena wasn't having any of it. All the discussions, the scornful comments—they weren't just going to get swept under the rug with another nod of her head.

"Why don't you drop the act and just tell me to my face how much of a disappointment I am to you?" she quipped, folding her arms across her chest.

Tanner and Vale both looked surprised.

"Glimmerstrike—"

But Serena wasn't done yet.

"Enough with the sweet-talk," she pressed, raising her voice a little. "I know you all think I'm a joke. But guess what? You picked me for this job, not the other way around. Maybe if you want me to improve, you should focus on training me better and pointing out the skills I need to work on instead of paying hundreds of people to write some long, thought-out hate comments. And believe me, the writing is always too similar for them not to be paid trolls.

"When was the last time any of you trained someone, or did something about this mess? Instead, you've been wasting your time worrying about a few critical posts from a bunch of teenagers whose opinions literally do not matter at all."

She knew she should have shut up after that, but somehow, once she started talking, the words kept flowing. Everything that had been bottled up for so long—she needed to say it now or risk exploding.

Vale leaned over, his voice dangerously low, "Glimmerstrike. Hold your tongue. Your tone—"

Serena turned to him, her anger flaring. "So what if my tone is disrespectful? Don't they deserve at least a little bit of what they're dishing out?"

"This meeting is intended for problem resolution, not whining. Behave, or you'll be escorted out," Vale threatened.

He then turned his attention back to the screens. "Ladies and gentlemen, let's keep our discussion focused on facts rather than conjecture. My team is working diligently on reputation management, and we've identified the most influential thought leaders shaping the prevailing narrative. Our top priority is to engage with these entities. We're striving to achieve a consensus on a unified message that aligns with our broader brand strategy."

Tanner interjected once more, her tone acerbic, "That sounds like another way of saying you're going to bribe them."

"Such a crass oversimplification," Vale retorted with a sigh. "Influencer outreach, thought leader engagement, compensated product placement, strategic reputation enhancement—whatever terms you prefer. The nomenclature is hardly relevant here."

"It's bribing someone to shut up and say something nice," Serena quipped, drumming her fingers on the table.

That comment earned her a slap in the face, shocking her out of her righteous indignation. Her mouth fell open as she brought a hand to her cheek, an angry mark where Vale had hit her.

"Do not humiliate me," Vale hissed quietly, the ice in his glare promising dire consequences. "Ever."

The other board members just watched, no one making a move to intercede or comment on the abuse that had just transpired.

"This is a publicity meeting, not your personal bitching session," he added. Then, returning to the conference call and the viewscreens, Vale re-established his facade of composure, adjusting his glasses meticulously. "Now, if we could continue in a civilized manner, that would be appreciated."

Serena stewed in her chair, seething at the blatant double standard.

It was only at this point that she realized she might have gone a bit too far. Her gaze dropped to the table, and she leaned back in her chair, sulking.

Crap... This is probably where I get fired.

Tanner cleared her throat. "Mr. Vale, thank you. Your services for today will no longer be necessary."

What?

"You are hereby assigned to manage one of our newer talents," Dr. Tanner continued. "A young star by the name of Riley. Now, would you kindly see yourself out?"

What?

"But—" Vale stammered.

"Now, Vale," she stressed.

Vale couldn't find the words for his protest and eventually stumbled out of the room, seemingly crestfallen.

"What just happened?" Serena managed to ask after a bewildered moment.

"I apologize for Mr. Vale's lack of proper guidance. You see, it's hard to find quality managers nowadays; too many opportunists and not enough believers. He was better than some, but at the end of the day, a number on a paycheck matters more to him than a citizen's dream."

Tanner's hologram shifted as if to emulate a sigh. "However, you are not without blame yourself. As I recall, you were explicitly instructed not to speak, yet you allowed your emotions to dominate. You knew your words would offend and inflame, and you have to live with the consequences of those choices.

"On the other hand, I have to admit that it was refreshing to see a bit of fire from you. But keep in mind that being a Superhero isn't all glitz and glamour. There are contractual obligations. Responsibilities. Some of them might leave a sour taste in your mouth, but that's part of the job description, sweetheart.

"Now, let's start over. Hello, Ms. Holt, and thank you for attending today's meeting. Before we begin, I would like to apologize for what transpired earlier. That was not, to my knowledge, according to protocol. Furthermore, it does not reflect our values at Paragon Entertainment. Could we consider starting this conversation anew?"

Serena sat there, stunned for a moment. Then, she gathered her thoughts, her tone measured. "Sure."

"Wonderful," Tanner's holographic form seemed to lean forward, her body language suggesting the initiation of a private discussion between the two of them.

The other board members suddenly fell silent, some leaning back in their seats or shifting their gaze to the side. It gave the impression of a scene frozen in time, like a paused video.

"Let's set that unpleasantness aside and address the real issues. Serena, your public profile needs serious rehabilitation. We need a boost to your ratings, and you need some allies in this. If I leave your fate to the peanut gallery, who knows what absurdities they'll come up with next. So, listen carefully. Here's what we'll do."

A glimmer of hope flickered in Serena's eyes.

Was Dr. Tanner—her tormentor from the early days—really going to make an effort to help?

She quickly reminded herself who she was dealing with, and that hope withered away. Tanner hadn't earned her reputation for compassion; this sudden sympathy had to be fake.

"What are you... suggesting?"

"I am assigning you to work in tandem with another Superhero: Diamond Ace. The idea is for you two to work together to apprehend Axion. Your collaboration with Diamond Ace will serve two primary goals. Firstly, to improve your own capabilities. Secondly, to establish a unified front against Axion. And who better to join the campaign against our hero-killer than a prior associate of Prime himself. That should counter the negative optics."