# Chapter 4: "Painted Smiles and Broken Masks: The Media Frenzy"

Sarah clicked through the channels on her office television, watching coverage of the same story play out across every major network. She paused on MBN—Meridian Broadcasting Network—where anchor Derek Holloway spoke with practiced gravity.

"The allegations against Centurion continue to mount as new evidence suggests the hero received substantial payments from Titan Industries in exchange for preferential protection of their properties," Derek said, his expression stern. "Sources close to the investigation claim bank records show multiple deposits totaling over five million dollars into offshore accounts linked to the hero's civilian identity."

Sarah frowned, making a note on her tablet. She typed: *How did these "sources" get access to offshore account information? Who leaked this?*

She continued watching as the screen split to show a panel discussion.

"Let's be honest, Derek," said Vivian Mills, a political commentator with a sleek bob and piercing eyes. "We've always placed these so-called heroes on pedestals, and now we're seeing the cracks in the facade. Centurion has been protecting corporate interests while ordinary citizens suffer."

"That's speculation, Vivian," countered James Warren, an older man with silver hair and conservative attire. "These are just allegations at this point. Centurion deserves due process like anyone else."

"Due process?" Vivian scoffed. "When did Centurion give 'due process' to the villains he apprehended? He enforced his own brand of justice for years. Now he's facing the consequences."

Sarah switched channels to CNM, where drone footage showed Centurion outside his penthouse apartment. The golden-armored hero pushed through a crowd of reporters, his face shield down, refusing to answer questions shouted at him from all directions.

"Centurion! Is it true you accepted bribes?"

"Did you know your actions led to increased crime in lower-income neighborhoods?"

"Are you planning to surrender your hero license?"

Centurion shouldered past them, entering the building as security guards held back the press. The helicopter camera zoomed in dramatically on his retreating figure.

"As you can see," the CNM reporter narrated, "Centurion continues to avoid answering the serious questions about these allegations. Sources within the Hero Regulatory Commission confirm they've opened a formal investigation into his activities over the past five years."

Sarah switched again, this time to the Entertainment Tonight channel, where the tone shifted dramatically despite covering the same story.

"Centurion's fall from grace has sent shockwaves through Meridian City's social scene," said Tiffany Blake, the glamorous host. "His annual charity gala, which was scheduled for next month, has been canceled as sponsors withdraw support. Fashion designer Leonardo Vinci has pulled the hero-inspired clothing line that was set to debut this season."

The screen showed images of merchandise being removed from store shelves—action figures, t-shirts, and posters featuring Centurion's iconic golden armor and red cape.

"Meanwhile," Tiffany continued with a conspiratorial smile, "rumors are swirling about Centurion's rival, Valiant. Sources close to the silver-clad hero say he's been 'deeply disturbed' by the allegations against his former colleague. The two have reportedly not spoken since the scandal broke."

Sarah shut off the television and leaned back in her chair, reviewing her notes. Something about the coverage felt orchestrated, too perfect in its timing and scope. Different networks emphasized different angles, but collectively they painted a comprehensive picture of corruption.

She opened her laptop and typed "Centurion scandal timeline" into the search bar. Dozens of articles appeared, each one building on the previous, creating a narrative of corruption that seemed irrefutable when viewed together.

Her phone buzzed with a notification from the news alert app she used. She opened it to find a breaking story about a successful heist at a government research facility. The headline read: "Tech Thief 'Shackles' Strikes Government Facility, Neural Interface Stolen."

Curious, she clicked on the article.

*In what authorities are calling one of the most sophisticated heists in recent memory, the villain known as 'Shackles' successfully breached a high-security government research facility last night, making off with an experimental neural interface device. The technology, reportedly worth millions, could potentially revolutionize human-computer interaction if it falls into the wrong hands.*

*"This wasn't just a smash-and-grab job," said Captain Roger Martinez of the Meridian City Police Department. "The perpetrator knew exactly what they were after and how to get it. We're dealing with a professional."*

*Security footage released to the media shows the villain efficiently navigating the facility's defenses, suggesting inside knowledge or extensive preparation.*

Sarah watched the attached video, showing a figure in dark clothing moving purposefully through corridors, disabling security systems with practiced ease. Despite the grainy quality, there was something compelling about the villain's movements—confident, deliberate, professional.

She pulled up additional articles about Shackles, finding a surprising amount of positive coverage. One headline from the Meridian City Tribune read: "Rise of Shackles: The Villain Meridian Didn't Know It Needed?"

The article painted a portrait of a meticulous criminal mastermind who never harmed hostages, preferred technology to violence, and possessed an undeniable flair for dramatic heists. Comments beneath the article revealed an unsettling trend—people were impressed, even admiring of the villain's skills.

*ShadowWatcher92: At least Shackles is honest about who he is. Unlike certain "heroes" who pretend to be something they're not.*

*MeridianMom: My kids used to play Centurion vs. villains. Today they asked for Shackles action figures. What is happening to our city?*

*TruthSeeker2023: Anyone notice these Shackles heists started right when Centurion's reputation began tanking? Coincidence? I think not!*

Sarah created a new document and began charting the timelines of both stories—Centurion's scandal and Shackles' rise. The correlation was striking. As public opinion of Centurion declined, coverage of Shackles increased, gradually shifting from condemnation to fascination to something uncomfortably close to admiration.

She pulled at a loose thread of her sweater, deep in thought. Something larger was happening in Meridian City—a reshaping of the narrative around heroes and villains that felt artificial. But who would have the power or motivation to orchestrate such a media campaign?

---

Across town, in the gleaming headquarters of Meridian Media Corporation, Phillip Donovan watched six different news feeds simultaneously on the wall of screens in his office. The silver-haired executive sipped his espresso, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"How are the ratings?" he asked without looking away from the screens.

His assistant, Marcus, consulted his tablet. "Up thirty-two percent across all networks. The Centurion scandal is driving unprecedented engagement."

"And the social media campaign?"

"Exceeding expectations, sir. The hashtag #FallenHero is trending nationally. Our content farm is generating new angles every hour, and the engagement metrics are off the charts."

Phillip nodded, his brow furrowed with concern. "And this Shackles character? How's the public responding?"

"Mixed reactions, sir. Some admiration for his methods is emerging, especially with younger demographics. The contrast between him and Centurion's situation is creating interesting discussions online."

"Concerning," Phillip said, turning to face his assistant with a troubled expression. "Schedule a meeting with the editorial directors. We need to ensure our coverage remains balanced and responsible during this crisis of public trust."

"Yes, sir. There's also... this." Marcus handed over a printout. "It's from that reporter at The Meridian Voice, Sarah Chen. She's been sending information requests to our archives, asking for all footage and coverage of both Centurion and Shackles going back three years."

Phillip adjusted his glasses as he scanned the document. "The Voice? That small independent outlet?" He frowned slightly. "What's her angle?"

"She seems quite thorough, sir. Cross-referencing timelines, fact-checking sources, requesting interview transcripts."

"Interesting," Phillip said, setting down the paper. "Ensure she gets what she needs within our standard protocols. Good journalism matters in times like these, even from smaller outlets."

"I'll see to it according to company policy, sir."

After Marcus left, Phillip swiveled his chair to face the window, gazing out at the Meridian City skyline. The massive "MMC" logo atop his building stood as a symbol of journalistic responsibility. From this height, the city looked peaceful, belying the turmoil of trust unfolding in its streets.

He sighed heavily, the weight of public responsibility pressing on him. As the head of the city's largest media company, maintaining ethical standards during such volatile times was paramount. He straightened a framed journalism award on his desk—last year's Pulitzer for MMC's investigative team.

"Truth above all," he murmured to himself, the company motto that had guided his career.

---

Sarah entered the bustling newsroom of The Meridian Voice, a cramped space occupying the third floor of a repurposed warehouse in the East District. The independent news outlet operated on a shoestring budget, its dozen staff members working twice as hard for half the pay of their mainstream counterparts.

"Chen! In my office!" called the gruff voice of her editor, Ray Palmer.

Sarah wove between desks cluttered with coffee cups and stacks of paperwork, ignoring the sympathetic glances from colleagues. Ray's "office" was just a glass-walled corner of the room, offering the illusion of privacy while remaining fully visible to the newsroom.

"Close the door," Ray said without looking up from his computer. He was a barrel-chested man in his fifties with perpetually rolled-up sleeves and reading glasses perched on his nose.

Sarah closed the door and sat down. "If this is about the MMC information requests, I can explain—"

"It's not just about the requests," Ray interrupted, finally looking up. "Though I did get a very interesting call from their legal department this morning. Something about 'harassment' and 'frivolous demands'?"

"That's ridiculous," Sarah protested. "I'm doing legitimate research for a story."

"What story, exactly? Because last I checked, you were supposed to be covering the community response to the new zoning regulations in the South District."

Sarah pulled out her tablet, opening her notes. "Ray, there's something bigger happening. The Centurion scandal and the rise of this villain, Shackles—they're connected."

"Connected how?"

"The timing is too perfect. The moment allegations against Centurion started gaining traction, Shackles appeared on the scene. The media coverage shifted almost overnight, painting Centurion as corrupt while simultaneously romanticizing Shackles as some kind of anti-hero."

Ray removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sarah, every editor in the city would love to find the next Pulitzer-winning conspiracy, but sometimes a coincidence is just a coincidence."

"It's not just timing," Sarah insisted, swiping through her notes. "Look at the sources cited in the initial Centurion exposé. They're all anonymous. The bank records that supposedly prove the bribes? No one has actually seen them, just 'sources familiar with the investigation.' And the investigation itself? No official statement from the Hero Regulatory Commission, just more anonymous sources."

Ray sighed. "And this connects to Shackles how?"

"The coverage feels orchestrated. While Centurion is being torn down, Shackles is being built up. Articles about his 'professional approach,' his 'code of ethics,' interviews with supposed hostages talking about how 'respectful' he was. It's as if someone is deliberately reshaping the narrative around heroes and villains."

"And who would have the power to do that?" Ray asked skeptically.

Sarah hesitated, then said, "I think it might be Meridian Media Corporation."

Ray laughed out loud. "MMC? The corporate conglomerate that owns half the media outlets in the country? You think they're engaged in some grand conspiracy to what? Make people like villains?"

"I don't know the endgame yet," Sarah admitted. "But MMC owns all five major networks running the Centurion story, plus the three largest news sites pushing the Shackles angle. They control the narrative."

"And what would Phillip Donovan gain from destroying Centurion's reputation?"

"I don't know yet. That's why I'm investigating."

Ray leaned back in his chair, studying her. "Sarah, you're one of my best reporters. You've got good instincts and you're thorough. But this... this is thin. Very thin."

"Just give me a week," she pleaded. "Let me follow this lead. If I can't find concrete evidence of a connection, I'll drop it and go back to zoning regulations."

Ray was silent for a long moment, then nodded reluctantly. "Three days. And I want daily updates. If this turns out to be nothing, we're going to have a serious conversation about resource allocation."

"Thank you, Ray!" Sarah stood up, eager to get back to work.

"And Sarah," Ray called as she reached for the door. "Be careful with MMC. They don't take kindly to scrutiny, and they have very deep pockets and very sharp lawyers."

Sarah nodded and returned to her desk, immediately opening her laptop. She created a new folder titled "Media Manipulation" and began organizing her research. First, she needed to track the ownership trails of every media outlet covering both stories. Then, she needed to analyze the language patterns in the coverage, looking for similarities that might suggest coordinated messaging.

As she worked, a notification popped up on her screen—an email from a contact at MMC, responding to one of her information requests:

*Ms. Chen,*

*I regret to inform you that your request for the raw footage of the Centurion interview from March 15th cannot be accommodated due to company policy regarding unreleased material. Furthermore, all future information requests must be processed through our legal department with appropriate documentation of journalistic purpose.*

*Regards,* *Marcus Wellington* *Executive Assistant to Phillip Donovan* *Meridian Media Corporation*

Sarah frowned. The interview in question had been critical—it contained the first public allegations against Centurion from an anonymous source whose face was blurred and voice disguised. She had hoped to analyze the unedited footage for clues about the informant's identity.

She opened a new browser tab and searched for "Marcus Wellington MMC." Several results appeared, including a corporate profile and social media accounts. She clicked on his professional networking page, scanning his job history.

Marcus Wellington had joined MMC just six months ago, after a brief stint at Titan Industries—the very corporation allegedly paying bribes to Centurion.

"Interesting coincidence," Sarah murmured, making a note of the connection.

She continued digging, searching for anything connecting MMC, Titan Industries, and the recent events involving Centurion and Shackles. As she worked, her office television continued to play in the background, the endless news cycle grinding on.

---

Across the city, in a luxury apartment overlooking Meridian Bay, Victor "Shackles" Morris watched the same news coverage with a mixture of amazement and unease. Seeing his villain persona discussed on major networks was surreal—especially the tone of the coverage. Rather than condemning his actions, commentators seemed almost impressed, analyzing his techniques with the respect usually reserved for skilled professionals.

"The security footage reveals a villain with extensive planning capabilities," said a retired security expert on MBN. "Notice the precision timing, the knowledge of blind spots in the surveillance system. Shackles isn't just another thug in a costume—he's elevating villainy to an art form."

Victor muted the television, unsure how to feel about this unexpected fame. He glanced at the neural interface device sitting on his coffee table, still sealed in its protective case. The Shadow Syndicate hadn't contacted him since the gas station meeting, leaving him in an anxious limbo, waiting for instructions.

His phone buzzed with a news alert: "Centurion Cancels Public Appearances Amid Growing Scandal."

Victor opened the article and read about the hero's rapid downfall—sponsors dropping him, public opinion turning against him, former allies distancing themselves. The golden hero who had humiliated him just weeks ago was now experiencing his own humiliation on a much grander scale.

He should have felt satisfaction, maybe even vindication. Instead, an unsettling feeling crept over him. The speed and totality of Centurion's fall seemed orchestrated, almost cruel in its efficiency. And the timing, coinciding perfectly with his own rise to prominence...

Victor picked up the small metal emblem given to him by the masked figure—the stylized "S" intersected by a broken chain. Was this all part of some larger plan? And if so, what role was he really playing?

---

The social media landscape buzzed with activity as thousands of Meridian City residents shared and commented on the dual narratives dominating the news cycle. Memes contrasting Centurion's fall with Shackles' rise spread like wildfire, along with conspiracy theories, hot takes, and increasingly partisan debates.

@HeroWatcher: Remember when we used to look up to people like #Centurion? Turns out they were looking down on us the whole time. #FallenHero

@MeridianMom: Had to explain to my 7-year-old why his Centurion toy was "bad" now. He cried for an hour. This scandal is breaking young hearts. 💔

@TruthSeekerX: Wake up people! The timing isn't coincidental. Centurion gets too close to something big, suddenly he's tanked by "anonymous sources" while this Shackles guy gets the spotlight. #ConnectTheDots

@RealNewsMeridian: EXCLUSIVE: Former intern at Centurion's hero agency claims toxic workplace environment, alleges hero "displayed elitist attitudes" toward support staff. Full story at link.

@VillainVanguard: Hot Take: Shackles represents the evolution of villainy. No unnecessary violence, clear objectives, professional execution. Almost makes you question which side is really "right." #GrayMorality

The algorithms promoted the most engaging content, regardless of accuracy or context, creating echo chambers where users consumed increasingly extreme perspectives. Fact-checking became nearly impossible as the sheer volume of content overwhelmed traditional verification methods.

In his downtown penthouse office, Phillip Donovan reviewed the social media analytics with concern. The increasingly polarized public opinions worried him—this wasn't healthy discourse but seemed more like mass hysteria taking hold.

He stood before a mirror in his private bathroom, adjusting his tie before an upcoming board meeting. Dark circles under his eyes betrayed sleepless nights spent worrying about responsible reporting during this crisis.

"We need to do better," he murmured, straightening his slightly crooked tie. "The public deserves better."

---

Sarah worked late into the evening, her desk lamp casting long shadows across her notes. The newsroom had emptied hours ago, leaving her alone with the hum of computers and the occasional distant siren from the streets below.

She had created a complex web of connections on her corkboard—media outlets, corporate entities, key individuals, timeline of events. Red string connected related elements, forming a pattern that was beginning to make a disturbing kind of sense.

What had started as a hunch was taking shape as a coordinated media campaign. The similarities in language across supposedly independent news sources were too consistent to be coincidental. The timing of revelations too perfect, the narrative shift too uniform.

But the motive remained elusive. If MMC was indeed orchestrating this campaign, what did they hope to gain? The corporation had no obvious connection to either Centurion or Shackles.

Unless...

Sarah pulled up Phillip Donovan's corporate biography. The media mogul had built MMC from a single radio station to a multi-billion-dollar empire spanning television, print, digital, and entertainment. His public persona was carefully crafted—philanthropist, visionary businessman, champion of journalistic integrity.

But people like that often had secrets. Weaknesses. Vulnerabilities.

Sarah searched for older articles about Donovan, digging past the polished corporate profiles to find anything personal. Most results showed the same narrative—self-made success story, brilliant strategist, intensely private about his personal life.

Then she found something interesting—a small article from fifteen years ago about a charity gala. The photograph showed a younger Donovan shaking hands with several prominent Meridian City residents, including a man identified as Michael Centurion, described as "son of defense contractor William Centurion and newly appointed CEO of Centurion Industries."

Sarah stared at the image. Michael Centurion. Could he be connected to the hero Centurion? The timing would make sense—Centurion had appeared on the scene around fourteen years ago, shortly after this photograph was taken.

She searched for more information about Michael Centurion but found surprisingly little. The man seemed to have all but disappeared from public life around the same time the hero Centurion emerged.

Sarah made a note of the connection, but it was thin—a single photograph from years ago. She needed more concrete evidence linking MMC to the current media manipulation.

She turned her attention back to Marcus Wellington, Donovan's assistant who had previously worked at Titan Industries. His employment history might provide a connection.

As she dug deeper into Wellington's background, Sarah discovered something odd. Before working at Titan Industries, Marcus had been employed by Steller Media Group—a company that had been acquired by MMC three years ago. And before that, he had worked briefly for a private security firm that counted Centurion Industries among its clients.

The connections were tenuous but intriguing. People moving between these corporations, their careers intersecting in ways that seemed random but might not be.

Sarah yawned, glancing at her watch—nearly midnight. She needed sleep if she was going to make any progress tomorrow. As she began packing up her notes, her office phone rang.

She hesitated, then picked up. "Meridian Voice, Sarah Chen speaking."

There was silence on the line, then a digitally disguised voice spoke: "You're asking dangerous questions, Ms. Chen."

Sarah tensed. "Who is this?"

"Someone who appreciates thorough journalism. You've noticed the pattern in the coverage. Keep digging."

"Do you have information about MMC?" Sarah asked, quickly opening her recording app on her phone.

"MMC is just one piece of a larger puzzle. Look deeper into Phillip Donovan. His history before MMC. Before he was 'Phillip Donovan.'"

"What do you mean? Who was he before?"

"That's the question, isn't it? Who is anyone, beneath the face they show the world?" The voice paused. "The Centurion scandal isn't what it appears to be. Neither is Shackles' sudden rise. Two sides of the same coin, Ms. Chen."

"Who's behind it?" Sarah pressed. "What's the purpose?"

"You're a reporter. Find out." The line went dead.

Sarah stared at the phone, her heart racing. She played back the recording, listening to the distorted voice again. The caller had confirmed her suspicions about the media coverage but had raised more questions than answers.

Who was Phillip Donovan before he became Phillip Donovan? And how did that connect to the current situation?

She had three days to find out.

---

In his apartment across town, Ray Palmer received a phone call. He answered to find Phillip Donovan himself on the line.

"Mr. Palmer, I apologize for calling so late," Donovan said earnestly. "I recently learned one of your reporters has been researching our coverage patterns."

Ray tensed. "My reporters work on many stories, Mr. Donovan."

"Of course. Sarah Chen, I believe? Her information requests caught my attention."

"What's your interest in her work?" Ray asked cautiously.

"Professional admiration, actually. MMC has been discussing a grant program for independent journalism—outlets doing the difficult, thorough work that larger organizations sometimes miss. The Meridian Voice exemplifies that spirit."

Ray was silent for a moment. "We do take pride in our independence, Mr. Donovan."

"As you should. That's precisely what we'd want to support—no editorial influence, just financial resources to pursue important stories." Donovan's voice was sincere. "I'd love to discuss this initiative over lunch tomorrow. Perhaps noon at Le Blanc?"

Ray considered the offer. The Voice was struggling financially. Additional funding could strengthen their investigative capacity without compromising their integrity.

"I'll consider it," he said finally.

"I look forward to it," Donovan replied. "And please let Ms. Chen know I'm happy to speak with her directly about any questions regarding MMC's coverage. Transparency matters, especially in these troubling times."

After the call ended, Ray sat in his darkened living room, the implications of Donovan's words hanging in the air. The Meridian Voice prided itself on journalistic integrity, on being beholden to no corporate interests. But every month the finances grew tighter, the future more uncertain.

He opened his laptop and pulled up the folder containing the next day's stories, including Sarah's notes on her investigation. Her theory about media manipulation was compelling, but as yet unproven. Going up against MMC without ironclad evidence would be professionally suicidal.

Ray sipped his whiskey, contemplating his options. The ethical choice was clear. The practical choice was equally clear. Unfortunately, they weren't the same.

---

The next morning, screens across Meridian City displayed the latest development in the ongoing saga. News tickers announced: "BREAKING: Centurion Linked to Organized Crime, Money Laundering Investigation Underway."

In homes, offices, and public spaces, citizens absorbed the latest allegations against their former hero, opinions solidifying, perspectives narrowing. The narrative had taken on a life of its own, self-perpetuating, self-reinforcing.

In his penthouse office, Phillip Donovan reviewed the morning headlines with a troubled expression. The media frenzy had escalated beyond anyone's control. He reached for his coffee, accidentally knocking over a small hand mirror on his desk.

As he picked it up, he caught his own reflection. For just a fraction of a second—so brief he might have imagined it—his features seemed to waver, revealing something—or nothing—beneath.

The Faceless Face.