Chapter 288 Merchandise.

Chapter 288: 288 Merchandise.

As I stepped through the polished glass doors of Firefly’s corporate headquarters and submitted to the invasive, multi-layered security check, I found myself actively wondering what exactly Lacey had queued up for me this time.

I genuinely hoped it was a premium contract. Ever since I successfully ascended to the top of the food chain as the head of my own independent evil league, she had been aggressively keen to book my services. But that was the tricky part about being the main villain in this market.

You had to severely pace your public appearances and carefully curate your defeats.

If you got beaten down too frequently, it absolutely wouldn’t matter how intimidating your custom armor was or how deeply tragic your backstory played on television.

The viewing public got bored fast, and they started thinking you were fundamentally weak. And when you are the big bad, brand dilution is a very bad thing.

Lacey’s executive suite sat like a vault at the end of a heavily guarded hallway. Her stony assistants buzzed me through the reinforced doors. I walked in warily.

Lacey always went out of her way to throw me completely off my game through sheer, calculated corporate weirdness.

Today was absolutely no exception.

Her office maintained a wildly open-concept layout, which was primarily because in the corporate world, your executive importance was strictly judged by how much expensive square footage of prime downtown real estate you could afford to leave conspicuously empty.

And she was currently sitting right in the middle of it, wearing absolutely nothing but a high-cut athletic leotard while she worked.

...Sure. Alright then.

I took a brief second to mentally orient myself to the absurdity of the situation, and also to grab an unavoidable eyeful of the CEO.

Her delicate hands and wrists were currently coated in thick, wet pottery mud, but somehow that specific mess only made her look more dangerous and attractive.

Her fingers glided smoothly up and down her current clay project, the motorized spinning wheel molding the damp earth into a rather... aggressively phallic shape.

Same old Lacey.

"Miles!" she chirped affably, not even breaking eye contact as she continued to aggressively work the clay. "So incredibly good to see you. Come in, sit down!"

"Lacey," I said, quickly running a magnetic sweep of the room just to check for any hidden surprises. "Picked up a new hobby?"

"I did! Pottery," she said brightly. "I had to take it as part of a court-mandated corporate stress management course, and I actually found I really liked it! You should absolutely try it. It just melts the executive stress right away."

"Is that right?"

"Of course. Come over here, I’ll show you. Just take off your clothes and we can get right into it."

"I think I’ll pass," I said smoothly, taking a seat in the plush leather chair across from her splash zone.

"That is the fundamental problem with you, Miles," Lacey sighed, tilting her head at me with a predatory smirk. "You don’t have any actual hobbies."

"I do so."

"Oh? Such as?"

"Well..."

I hesitated. It wasn’t that I didn’t have fun, recreational activities in my off hours. But I was fairly certain that ’sleeping with gorgeous, highly lethal villainesses’ didn’t formally count on a corporate wellness survey.

"Anyway, what exactly do you have for me today? Do you have some A-list heroes desperately needing to show off for the cameras?"

Lacey smiled, smoothly shrugging off my conversational deflection. Her mud-slicked hands began gliding rapidly up and down, shaping the damp clay into an even taller, thicker shape. "A little bit of that. A little bit of this. But I have some much more... immediate, lucrative ideas which I very much hope you will be a part of."

Uh oh. I instantly tensed up, eyeing her narrowly. I wasn’t entirely sure where this pitch was going, and when dealing with a shark like Lacey, ambiguity was a very bad sign. Not to say she was bad at her job. Far from it.

But when she was actively being good at her job, it almost always meant someone else in the room was going to get screwed over worse than an extra with a mohawk in a George Miller film. And I had absolutely no intention of letting that person be me.

"And what might that be?" I asked neutrally.

"I’ve been reliably informed, Miles, that you’ve been aggressively developing not only your own inner circle of ladies, but outside talent as well. Training up freelance villains to take on heroes and massively expand your league’s operating roster."

She tilted her head my way, the dark, expensive lenses of her designer glasses shining reflectively under the recessed lighting. "Am I correct in my intelligence?"

"You are," I said slowly, choosing my words. "No firm members officially signed to the ledger yet, but I’ve been actively working on it."

"Excellent," Lacey purred, her glossy grin growing to absolute Cheshire cat proportions. "In that case, we at Firefly were looking to formally consider a... partnership with you that might be of a tremendous financial benefit to both of our organizations."

"Oh?" I said, lifting a skeptical eyebrow. "Need some disposable villains for your heroes to violently beat up?"

"That. But so much more, Miles. So very, very much more."

Where the hell was she going with this? I tightly clasped my hands together in my lap to keep them from fidgeting, eyeing her closely. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

Lacey’s muddy fingers glided teasingly along the wet sculpture as the wheel spun. "Tell me, Miles. Have you given much strategic thought to... merchandising?"

I stared at her, utterly gobsmacked. "Sorry, what?"

"Merchandising," Lacey crooned softly. Her fingers playfully pinched around the peak of the sculpture, the wet clay lazily curving over to her gentle, deliberate touch. "Products. Long-term brand deals. Global licensing. All that fun, highly profitable stuff."

"Well," I said warily. "Psyren’s been doing some direct sponsorship things for various fashion brands on her streams..."

"Oh, Miles," Lacey laughed, shaking her head so her lush hair fluttered around her shoulders. "So painfully innocent. You’re simply not looking at the big macroeconomic picture. You’re still thinking small time. But you’re officially in the big leagues now! And that means hard products."

"No, I know all about corporate product placement," I said. "Half the time, that’s literally what I’m helping your heroes show off during the fights."

"Which is absolutely wonderful for them, of course," Lacey continued, effortlessly steamrolling the conversation as only she could. "But I’m not talking about those minor placements. I’m talking about you!

"Entire product lines based squarely around you and your league. Yes! We’re talking global franchising, Miles! We’re looking at premium action figures. Sugary cereal boxes. Six-season Netflix animated shows!

"The profit possibilities are literally endless. And we at Firefly would be absolutely delighted to be a fundamental part of that."

I stared at her, genuinely blindsided by the ambition of the idea. "You would?"