Chapter 164 League.

Chapter 164: 164 League.

"I say we build a weather dominator," Rhea suggested effortlessly.

"Oh?" I said, looking over at her.

"Sure!" she said, her eyes lighting up with manic engineering inspiration. "It’d work out great! A massive, over-engineered chassis. Glowing plasma tubes, exposed Tesla coils, the works. Really flashy aesthetic. It could even be mounted on a mobile platform if we wanted to get genuinely crazy with the budget."

She gestured wildly with her hands, painting the picture. "We ’steal’—and I use that term with heavy corporate air-quotes—a few proprietary tech components, I construct the machine, and then we publicly threaten Metropolis with localized tornadoes and hurricanes. It’s a beautifully dramatic visual! The storm raging in the background while you beat the absolute tar out of whatever corporate cape comes to thwart you. Then they dramatically bust up the machine, and we flee into the night to fight another day!"

"You could actually build that?" I asked her.

"Oh, hell yeah, Miles! I’ve already got a dozen schematics forming in my head," she said, grinning with terrifying brilliance.

I quickly held up a hand to stop the mad science before it took root. "Okay, but it can’t be an actual apocalyptic machine. Right? We do not want to build a genuine, functional doomsday device that could level the eastern seaboard. Just something that generates localized atmospheric anomalies, menacing thunder, and high winds."

"Aw, you’re no fun," Rhea whined, pouting dramatically. "But yeah. I could throttle the output. I guess."

I nodded. "Alright. So," I said, tapping the dry-erase marker against the whiteboard. "Any other pitches?"

I gave one last look around the Big Table, but that seemed to be it. I capped the marker.

"Alright. Well, all the pitches were solid, but looking at the operational logistics, I think the Weather Dominator is probably our best bet for a debut."

"Yes!" Rhea cheered, pumping her fist in the air. "Fuck yeah! Science wins!"

Psyren groaned, folding her arms atop Nibbles’s fleshy head and pouting. "Fiiiine! But I still think my DJ mind-control idea was better."

"It was a highly marketable idea," I assured her. "And we can definitely file it away in the dossier for our next quarterly scenario."

"Yeah, yeah. But you’re gonna have to make this up to me, boss," Psyren said with a highly suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows.

I couldn’t help but smile. At least the league’s morale was still high.

"Good," I said, uncapping the marker again. "As for the tech components Rhea needs, we can make a highly publicized spectacle out of acquiring them. I’m sure there are a few R&D startups in the industry that would be more than willing to rent out their labs for us to ’break’ into."

"Really, sir?" Glacia asked, tilting her head.

"Absolutely," I said. "There is literally no better, cheaper way to advertise what your tech company is working on than to have a high-tier supervillain violently bust through the skylight to steal it. Their stock prices will jump fifteen percent by the morning bell."

"It’s totally true," Rhea agreed, nodding sagely. "I always monitor the financial news whenever an applied-sciences lab gets smashed up by a cape fight. You learn about so many fun, unregulated new projects that way."

"Exactly. I think we’ll go with a three-component heist structure," I outlined. "One targeted acquisition for each of you to headline. And then I’ll step in as the final boss to defend the Weather Dominator itself at the climax."

"Score!" Psyren shouted, throwing her hands up. "I’m going to make the absolute baddest entrance of them all!"

"Hold on there," I said, looking severely at the pink-haired psychic. "You’ll be scheduled for the last component. And you’re staying entirely off the board until then."

She gave me a blank look. "Huh?"

"Sorry," I said, shrugging unapologetically. "But that’s how it has to be operationally. I cannot put my primary VIP out there in the field doing standard heist work while the Brain Trust is still actively hunting you for the Override Array. So, you’re benched at the chalet until we permanently dismantle Doctor Green’s associates."

Psyren’s face instantly pinched with genuine anger. "Those lab-coat dicks!" she spat. "I’ll make them pay for ruining my debut!"

I nodded. Well, at least she was highly motivated.

"Good. Which brings me to the second major item on our agenda," I said. I grabbed an eraser, wiped out the heist notes, and wrote the word BRANDING in massive, black capital letters.

"Branding?" Glacia repeated softly.

Rhea gasped, sitting bolt upright in her chair. "Holy shit, Miles! Are you going to physically brand our asses?"

I gave her a deeply shocked look. "Wh-what? No!"

"Are you sure?" Rhea asked, grinning and wiggling teasingly in her seat. "Because I’ve gotta say, that would be super kinky. Really establish a firm chain of command so everyone in the industry knows who owns us."

"No one is branding anyone’s ass!" I said loudly, trying to steer the meeting back from the precipice. "That’s not what I meant. I mean, if we are going to officially debut as a premier evil organization, we need to actively build our brand identity."

I tapped the board. "And for that, we need a few things. Number one: a name. Something easily recognizable and legally distinct." I wrote NAME on the board. "Number two: a symbol. Something we can slap on a press release, project onto a cloud, or stamp on the tactical helmets of our future henchmen."

"Oh! Like Cobra!" Psyren gasped, entirely forgetting her anger. "I loved that snake symbol! G.I. Joe aesthetics all the way, baby! It was always so disappointing that the action figures didn’t have anything below the belt, though."

"I know, right?" Rhea gushed, instantly matching her energy. "I always genuinely wondered if Destro had his junk bronzed like his head."

I aggressively rubbed my brow. It was like herding heavily armed, incredibly lethal cats.

"Ladies? Can we please stay on topic?" I sighed. "Name, symbol, and theme! That’s what we’re currently lacking."

"The branding should reflect you as our supreme leader, sir," Glacia stated firmly, her tone bringing a sliver of aristocratic order back to the table. "It must be a monument to your greatness."

"Uh, I appreciate that, but—"

"Yeah!" Psyren interrupted, perking up visibly. "Like a giant, badass ’M’!"

"Right, but—"

"Oh, that’d be perfect! Bold, monolithic letters are always great for marketing. And an ’M’ has that awesome, sharp swoopiness to it," Rhea analyzed. "Super menacing geometry."

"But I’m not going out there as Miles!" I protested.

"Aw, fuck, that’s right," Psyren blinked, then shrugged. "Alright. So we use a giant, imposing capital ’P’. For Polaris."

"That could definitely work," Glacia agreed softly.

"Right, we could," I said, holding up a hand. "But the thing is, this league isn’t really just about me anymore."

"It’s not?" Rhea asked, tilting her head.

I shook my head. "No. See, stamping the boss’s first initial on everything is usually a branding strategy for a solo, megalomaniacal villain. The kind of guy who just has a giant lair, zero social life, and a legion of faceless, disposable goons. Maybe some evil robots."

I turned to the whiteboard and drew a large circle, then drew three smaller circles branching off beneath it.

"When you’re dealing with a league like ours, name punctuation is a lot less sustainable. The trick is," I explained, tapping the diagram, "we’re structuring this as an umbrella. A consortium. Which means the basic henchmen can be devoted to the core brand, but you girls aren’t just lackeys. You are ancillary, high-tier villains in your own right."

"What does that mean?" Rhea asked, squinting at the circles.

"It means that although we operate under his command," Glacia answered smoothly, understanding the corporate structure instantly, "we are also our own distinct brands."