Mod Superhero (Book 6 STUBBING on Oct 27th)

Chapter 7.4 - Propaganda

Mod flew low through the Belport skyline. He burned hard. Nanites shifted around his body, funneling fusion power through his legs and adjusting his cloaking. Wind roared around him, but Mod barely noticed. He was heading north toward downtown. Buildings grew steadily taller, rising quickly around him as he passed, like he was a fly and the city was a giant trying in vain to swat him.

He saw a world that was half real and half digital. To Mod, Belport appeared as a forest of glass, steel, and information. Buildings, cars, people, biomechs, and drones all appeared in two layers—the physical world and the digital world. The flow of signals and information appeared partially like a glowing spiderweb connecting all things. These data streams coalesced into thick streams and rivers.

Very few beings saw the world the way he did now—only TINA and Icarus. But druidic mages were close. They could sense the flow of life energy through a forest. If Mod wanted, he could've watched information trickle from cellphone to tower, like dew drops along a strand of spider silk, and then followed it along progressively thicker streams until it reached broadband lines and finally flowed out of Belport.

At the moment, Mod's new senses served a much more practical purpose.

He knew where every drone and camera and adjusted his cloaking to match. Knew exactly how fast he could fly, so he'd still blend into the city's thermal background. He could chart the floors on every skyscraper and how many people were in the vicinity. But right now, he was only interested in one building.

Ersconn Tower.

In the physical world, it was one of a dozen skyscrapers clustered together. But in the digital world, the flow of incoming and outgoing information was especially strong there—the floors between the 70th through 80th floors practically glowing like jewels.

Those ten floors were the headquarters of the Belport Bulletin. Most of their offices and broadcast teams were there and currently broadcasting the morning news. The same broadcast teams who'd spent the last year airing Summit-friendly propaganda, calling Resistance fighters "masked insurgents" and "urban threats." The same broadcast teams who wrote puff pieces for Midas and the rest of his sycophants.

Mod sighed. He couldn't let emotion get in the way of what he needed to do.

TINA spoke to him through their direct connection. "Your trajectory is a little high."

Mod replied wordlessly. "Change of plans. If I'm going to make a statement, I might as well start with an entrance."

He surged higher and began scanning the 75th floor. Blueprints unfolded in his mind, lit up with digital signals from cameras, terminals, and cellphones. Studio booths lined the outer edge. A central control station flanked the elevator shaft. Side offices. And a break room.

There.

A corner of the building was clear—no staff, no interns, just unused equipment and exposed glass.

At the last second, Mod fired a spread of nanites and reversed thrust. So when he burst through the window, shards scattered across the floor instead of being thrown with explosive force. Still, the impact toppled nearby equipment and kicked up a cyclone of paper, coffee cups, and surprised shouts.

Mod hit the studio floor in a crouch, his boots gouging the polished tile as he skidded to a halt.

A dozen cameras and twice as many faces whipped toward him.

Bethany Wonder sat alone at the anchor desk in a bright red suit. She stopped mid sentence and wide-eyed. The screen behind her glowed with a sunny animation: This Week in Heroic Justice!