Chapter 78 A Hero.

Chapter 78: 78 A Hero.

I kept my hands working along her back and shoulders while I steered the conversation where it needed to go. "We were going to talk about your new hero group?" I reminded her.

"Of course. Of course..." she answered, stretching one arm across the desk and pressing a button.

Screens flickered to life all around the walls, filling the office with overlapping feeds of three women in bright, color-coded outfits that left very little to the imagination.

They moved across a stage in tight, synchronized choreography to music I could only half-hear through the speakers.

Whatever this was, it looked like someone had crossed an idol group with a demon-hunting anime and then turned the dial all the way up.

I recognized Mysteria right away—the one who had originally been slotted to share the spotlight with Glacia on the villain side.

The other two faces were new to me. Fresh heroes, from the look of it. That was usually a warning sign, but Lacey ran a tight operation, so the risk was probably contained.

Probably.

"We’re calling them Superstars," Lacey said, voice lazy while my fingers kept adjusting the line of her spine. "Small modeling gigs, a few public appearances, heavy push across the usual social channels. Building the brand before the real launch."

"Looks solid," I said. "Setup?"

"First public screening of their film, Superstardom. Firefly production, packed house, celebrities in the seats, cameras everywhere. They’re calling it a major event."

"And Psyren’s angle in all this?"

"That’s the clever part," Lacey hummed, rolling her shoulders under my hands. "She’s the singer who got passed over for the group. She shows up, loses it, and tries to take everything for herself."

I nodded as the pieces settled. "Failed dreamer who snaps and decides the stage belongs to her alone."

"I can work with that," Psyren said from beside us.

I didn’t doubt it. Psyren had more than enough unhinged energy for the role, and the dangerous edge underneath it only made her more convincing. I shot her a quick, cautious look.

Lacey gave a slow nod. "Rented an arena, full production already locked in." She fumbled across the desk, pulled a sheet free, and held it out. I took one hand off her long enough to scan the page.

"Consent forms?"

"For every celebrity in attendance," she confirmed.

Standard package. Allergens, noise levels, Firefly accepting no liability for theft, injury, or... I paused at the next line.

"Mind control?"

"Just a clean legal out in case anything slips," she said.

"You really did think of everything."

"When you told me about your new psychic songstress, the whole concept just..." She pushed her hips back harder against me and let out a soft breath. "...fell into place."

"You told her? Aw, boss, you’re all heart," Psyren laughed, giving me a look that was pure smoke.

"He did," Lacey agreed. "And I already like the way this is shaping up. Now, about the actual event..."

I glanced over at Psyren. She looked more entertained than anything else by the sight of me correcting Lacey’s posture in ways no ordinary trainer ever would.

"Here’s the angle," I said, working it out while my hands stayed busy. "Psyren arrives determined to be the center of attention. She starts twisting the crowd so the whole show becomes her private concert and the audience turns into her devoted following."

"Oooooh, I love it," Psyren giggled. "Playing straight to what I do best."

"Mmm. And the Superstars notice and confront her on stage," Lacey mused, voice low.

"Exactly." I tried not to focus on the way she arched her chest into the pressure of my hands.

"But she’s outnumbered, and we can’t expect the audience to jump in and help her," Lacey pointed out.

"Do any of the Superstars have powers that stay non-lethal?"

"All of them, to varying degrees."

"Then we use that. Psyren’s musicians and a handful of stage crew act as the first line of brainwashed muscle. The Superstars cut through them, chaos breaks out, and Psyren slips away in the confusion. I’ll handle the stage workers—guys who can pass as crew and still throw a punch when needed."

Steve would jump at the chance. Cloning yourself opened up a lot of short-term gigs, and he never complained about overtime.

"Solid idea," Lacey said, "but those extras won’t make for much of a fight."

"No," I agreed. "Psyren isn’t built for direct combat anyway. What we need is one more super on the field—a hero the Superstars can actually brawl with."

Lacey raised a brow and rolled her shoulders again under my grip. "A hero? Interesting. Keep talking."

I ignored the heat building lower and the way her tight top kept drawing my eyes. "Classic mind-control setup. One hero is ’under her influence.’ The Superstars have to break the hold. After that the hero can either step into a mentor role or simply get taken down cleanly while Psyren escapes to cause trouble another day."

Lacey’s moan was low and approving. "Oh I loooove it. That sounds just... perfect."

"Me too," Psyren cooed. "Finally I get to order a superslave around."

"You won’t actually be controlling them," I cut in quickly. "The hero will be in on the whole thing. Lacey, do you already have someone on the roster who can fill that spot?"

"Several, in fact."

"Even better if it’s one of yours. Cleaner exit afterward, especially if you’re thinking about a longer mentorship angle."

A professional on the inside kept the variables manageable. The last thing any of us needed was an untested hero improvising in the middle of a complicated public spectacle.

Danger was part of the product; uncontrolled risk was not. Heroes could take hits and look dramatic, but they had to walk away able to sell the next appearance. A hospital bed moved no merchandise.

Besides, a faded name getting a fresh spotlight never hurt. There were always more heroes than villains, and plenty of good ones went weeks without a proper stage. If I could open a door for one of them at no extra cost, I did it. Professionals looked after their own.

"I’ll handle Psyren’s prep myself," I finished. "No concerns there."

"I never have any," Lacey breathed, moving in a slow wave under my hands. "I know my girls are in very safe hands. Oh fuck—yes. Right there, Miles."