While Captain Arica graced the front page of newspapers, the explosion in New York the night before was barely ntioned, hidden like a small classified ad alongside detective agency listings and house rentals. To avoid causing public panic by making people think it was a German air raid, a gag order had been issued, with the official story being that a gas explosion occurred in the sewer.
But Dr. Holloway didn't buy it. When he drove to the scene, he saw with his own eyes a human-shaped fireball flying away into the sky.
So people in the city didn't believe it either, and so even knew more than the doctor.
But all of them, just like everyone else, saw Captain Arica on the front page, his face hidden by a blue helt emblazoned with an 'A,' standing boldly for all to see.
The governnt's intention was clear: Captain Arica's masked image was ant to represent the millions of Arican soldiers, to inspire their fighting spirit, to sell more war bonds, and to encourage them to fight bravely on the battlefield.
A masked figure with no distinct identity was perfect for becoming a symbol, a beacon, an icon.
But to certain individuals, it had a different impact.
Captain Arica's appearance reminded them how one could achieve great things while keeping their identity hidden.
So, almost imdiately after the newspaper was published, New York saw a sudden surge of masked figures.
They donned homade uniforms, wore crude masks, and set out to do their own thing.
So sought to fight evil, while others engaged in more dubious activities. But with a mask on, who could tell who they really were?
Most of these people had no superhuman abilities. Dr. Holloway, with his fighting skills and detective talents, was already one of the most capable among them.
He now went by the codena "Avenging Angel," fighting cri throughout the city day and night. Though it required constant back-and-forth between the nursing ho and his secret base, he enjoyed this lifestyle.
At this ti, society's attitude toward masked individuals was quite complex.
The ho front during warti was stifling. People had access to only limited news or the grim announcents of soldiers killed in action.
The arrival of these masked figures provided New Yorkers with sothing to talk about, allowing them to escape the harsh reality.
It was as though they had left the war behind and temporarily entered a world full of romanticism.
The masked figures each had their own codenas. So were heroes, so were villains. The lines were clear, and everything seed so simple.
It must be said that these early villains and heroes were quite inexperienced. Not only did they lack superpowers, but they were also rather naive when dealing with the dia.
For example, a man in a purple hood proudly told reporters that he planned to perform an evil ritual in the sewers near the docks. He claid to be very, very evil, though he couldn't quite explain how. But he made sure to emphasize that he was a truly bad villain.
He warned that if the ritual succeeded, he might turn all the people of New York into frogs.
The newspaper published the interview, and New Yorkers prayed for a hero to stop the evil plan.
And of course, there were heroes. These newly erged masked vigilantes were eager for action. They rushed to the docks, and soone found the purple-hooded man, beat him up, and left him at the police station.
The final outco?
The police released the purple-hooded man because, after all, no law specifically prohibited boiling frogs in a large pot in the sewer.
His "evil" ritual was nothing more than a prank, and in the end, the bored rich kid paid a bail fee. He just wanted to join in the masked madness.
It was all a big ga, like a theatrical production. He played the villain this ti, and next ti he wanted to try being a hero.
But newspaper editors didn't like this reality—it was too mundane, too real. It didn't help sell papers. New Yorkers wanted dramatic battles between good and evil, thrilling stories with satisfying conclusions!
It wasn't people who shaped the era, but the era that shaped people!
That's when the editors took the stage.
The next day, the newspapers delivered to the stands told a completely different story. What had been a small prank was now an epic battle, a tale straight out of a fantasy novel.
The fight was said to have been incredibly fierce, spanning from New York's sewers to the Atlantic Ocean, from the Atlantic to Mars, and finally back to Earth, where the hero defeated the evil sorcerer in Moscow's Red Square. Along the way, the hero even showed off in front of Stalin, making him tremble and admit, "Aricans are truly incredible."
Now that was a story! The public was thrilled, and they scoffed at the police's official statents.
People believe what they want to believe. They were convinced the governnt was covering up the truth, and that only the newspapers were telling it like it was.
During this ti, The Daily Bugle, once just a tabloid, saw its subscriptions skyrocket thanks to the fantastic stories crafted by its talented editors. The paper's business soared.
New Yorkers eagerly kept their eyes on the papers, waiting for the next villain or hero to make their appearance.
And with this, more and more masked individuals erged.
When people found that the new "actors" weren't enough or didn't suit their tastes, they took matters into their own hands, donning masks and ill-fitting costus, doing things they had never dared to do before.
Almost every newspaper declared that this was an era of heroes, and anyone could beco one.
Su Ming had been gathering intelligence lately, enjoying the spectacle. The recent stories in the papers were a real show.
If the Bugle stories were true, then even ten Thanos' with all the Infinity Stones wouldn't be a match for soone like "Rat Man."
In one black-and-white photo, a person wearing shabby fur, dirty from head to toe, with a large rat head for a helt, was supposedly Rat Man. Was this guy really a hero and not so villain?
He did look a bit shifty.
All the good codenas had already been taken by the early pioneers. New heroes were now forced to go by nas like Cockroach or Flea.
Stinkbug Man, B.O. Man, Snot Man—these nas had Su Ming laughing uncontrollably.
anwhile, Steve Rogers had embarked on a tour across Arica, promoting Wilson Enterprises' many products.
Every performance, he would go onstage with a group of dancing girls, recite the lines pasted on the back of his shield, and pretend to beat up an actor dressed as Hitler, earning thunderous applause.
Under the colorful lights and the roaring crowd, Steve felt like he was in a dream.
Then the girls would subtly promote Wilson Enterprises' products, and all Steve had to do was stand in the background in his Captain Arica costu, smiling and giving two thumbs up.
Instant noodles? Great!
Canned stew? Great!
Super-strength drink? Great!
Nylon stockings? Great—wait, what? I've never worn stockings!
In the audience, Vodka and Senator Brandt exchanged a satisfied smile. They liked this win-win situation.
Steve was relatively content with the arrangent too. After all, it was for the war effort—selling war bonds ant raising money to buy weapons, which would end the war. Nothing wrong with that.
Besides, he had never had so many fans asking for his autograph.
But who knew what the future would hold? He had only perford ten shows in New York and Washington so far, and there were at least 400 more scheduled across the country.
So far, everything seed fine. But deep in the ocean, a young man with a receding hairline had other thoughts.
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