American reporters were said to "always arrive at the scene before the police," with only one exception: when the police had created the scene themselves.
The police shooting of a Black Air Force pilot in San Francisco was exactly such a case. By the time the reporters received the news and rushed over, the white officer, Jake Brian, had already slipped away. All they saw was the unconscious Black pilot being carried into an ambulance.
If Will Fortson had still had his eyes open, the reporters would have immediately swarmed him for interviews. They might even have bribed the medical staff to give them enough time to question him.
Would that delay treatment?
Who cared?
This was the world of capital, the world of money. As long as something generated economic profit, any maneuver was perfectly justified.
Besides, the injured man was Black.
The two Black men previously "kneeled to death" by white officers had lost their chance at rescue because reporters' vehicles had surrounded the scene, preventing the ambulance from getting through. Still, they had managed to spread the words, "I can't breathe."
In the end, the reporters put on mournful expressions before the cameras, denounced the harm caused by racial discrimination, squeezed out a few crocodile tears, and then enjoyed their station bonuses while watching the ratings soar.
The Black man died, the white people got rich, and everyone had a bright future.
Young Will Fortson had not seen through the vicious nature of these "news vultures." The reason he was pretending to be unconscious was because he wanted to make a big spectacle out of this.
Though the reporters who arrived at the scene failed to interview the person involved, they reconstructed the incident through nearby residents. The moment they heard that a white police officer had shot a Black man—and that the Black man was an Air Force pilot—they became excited!
Racial discrimination, excessive use of force, conflict between the police and military... every single one was explosive material!
There was no way this story would not go viral.
"Hey, boss, you need to give me authorization for an emergency broadcast right now!"
"Yes, it's huge news. Absolutely massive!"
The reporters at the scene contacted their stations one after another, asking their superiors to interrupt programming with the breaking story and seize the initiative.
In an era when superheroes had yet to emerge, this sort of major news was not easy to come by.
Thus, television stations in San Francisco, along with stations in other regions that received the news afterward, began interrupting their broadcasts to report on the incident.
It was now 2008. "Black Lives Matter" had already become a trend, and the Democratic Party was even planning to put forward a Black candidate for that year's election.
Naturally, this news quickly ignited public opinion across the United States. Ben Colson, a nationally renowned civil rights lawyer in New York, saw the report and immediately had his assistant investigate the Fortson family's contact information. He dropped everything else and drove straight to the airport.
He was determined to secure this case. No one was taking it from him.
He said so. Not even Jesus could stop him.
By the time Ben Colson obtained authorization from the family and hurried to the San Francisco hospital, he found the atmosphere in the intensive care unit strangely tense.
Will Fortson's family and the air force representative stood in the ward with constipated expressions. The man at the center of their circle had his upper body exposed, yet the wounds on him were shallow—nowhere near serious enough to require emergency treatment.
"What the fuck?" Ben Colson felt deceived.
How was he supposed to stir up public outrage with injuries like this? How was he supposed to build his reputation?
But after only a second of anger, he regained his grave expression and stepped forward.
"Mr. Fortson, I will fully represent you in holding the San Francisco Police Department accountable and seeking compensation. Whatever demands you have, tell me freely."
This golden opportunity could not be ruined in my hands!
The air force representative did not care about any of that. He stepped forward and carefully examined Will Fortson's wounds. The edges of the damaged muscles did indeed bear marks of scorching and abrasion from high-speed bullets.
Those in the military, especially the American military, were extremely familiar with gunshot wounds.
"Will, can you explain why your wounds are so shallow?" The air force representative knew exactly how powerful domestic police weapons were. Their pistols were no worse than military sidearms, and the well-funded New York police even had better small arms than the Army.
How else were they supposed to practice American-style quick-draw duels?
He had clearly been hit six times, yet his wounds were this shallow. The air force representative's gaze deepened.
"I... I..." Young Will Fortson was ultimately too inexperienced. He had only thought about making a big spectacle and had overlooked the issue with his wounds.
Suddenly, an ancient voice echoed in his mind.
"Confess." Lin Hao, watching everything from afar, imprinted his voice into the tool's consciousness.
Lin Hao had originally intended to discard him after using him, but he unexpectedly discovered that this fellow's transformation was highly complete. If one ignored the furless skin on his belly, he was practically a fully formed Black Panther.
Since that was the case, this tool had value for deeper development. He also happened to be an Air Force pilot, making it easy to infiltrate the American military.
In the world of One Piece, the SMILE Fruit was an inferior product developed by Caesar in imitation of Vegapunk's technology. Compared to Vegapunk's exacting standards, where he considered a fruit unsuccessful merely because its transformed color was wrong, Caesar's defective products were utter garbage.
Lin Hao had acquired Vegapunk's technology. He could even manufacture complete Devil Fruits, let alone these defective versions.
All he had to do was remove a certain segment.
Furthermore, to make trouble in America more conveniently, Lin Hao had retained the defective fruits' ability to transform freely. Unlike Caesar's creations, whose users all became malformed and could never return to human form.
Though they were defective products, their power was no weaker than complete Zoan Devil Fruits. This could be seen from Kaido's army of Gifted. Their only obvious weakness was that areas unable to transform did not receive the fruit's enhancement.
They were merely tools for making trouble. Why would Lin Hao give them anything without flaws?
Did he look like a charitable Great Demon Lord?
Inside the ward, having received the Demon Lord's command, Will Fortson glanced at the others around him.
The air force representative understood. He swept his gaze around the room and spoke with a smile. "Please go next door and rest for a moment."
His tone was gentle, but his attitude allowed no refusal.
A soldier who had come along personally escorted them out.
"Hal, warn the doctors not to speak carelessly. Otherwise, the Air Force will sue them for endangering national security."
Another soldier left as well.
Once no one else remained, Will Fortson flipped out of bed with agile movements.
Then, the air force representative stared in dumbfounded disbelief.
A living human being had transformed into a massive Black Panther right in front of him!
"Oh... my... God..."
Will Fortson had gotten his wish to create a grand spectacle. During the time spent preparing it, pressure from public opinion and the military came crashing down on the San Francisco Police Department.
"What the fuck!"
Jake Brian, who had been placed on "forced leave" at home, received a call from his superior. After hearing only one sentence, he flew into a rage. "Why the hell am I being fired?"
"Didn't this kind of thing always end with a week of leave before we got reinstated?"
"Because he didn't die. If he had died, the military would only have put on a show. Dead people have no value."
His superior on the other end was equally helpless. "The niggers killed before were all worthless trash from the bottom of society. This one is an Air Force pilot. Ignoring his skin color, he's a social elite with more value than us cops."
"The military and the media are both pressuring the chief now. I even heard that some congressman planning to run in the election is backing him. The lawyer he hired has submitted a massive compensation claim to the department..."
"What the hell? They want money too?" People in capitalist countries were extremely sensitive about money. The moment Jake Brian heard that the other side actually dared to demand compensation from the department, his entire worldview shattered. "Since when did killing a nigger during law enforcement require compensation?"
"I told you, he isn't an ordinary nigger!" His superior had had enough and delivered the ultimatum. "The department has decided to fire you. Also, if the court supports their compensation claim, they will seek reimbursement from you."
With that, he hung up.
"Fuck! Bitch! Son of a bitch!" Jake Brian smashed the telephone. His chest felt as though a ball of fire were constantly burning within it.
"A bunch of farm tools actually dare threaten white masters!"
At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to grab an assault rifle and slaughter every nigger on the street, so they would understand whose country America was.
"All niggers should die!"
Suddenly, a mass of darkness enveloped him, and Demon appeared before him.
"Do you want revenge? Do you want the power of a demon?"
"Hehehe, hand your soul over to me!"
What qualified arms dealer would not sell to both sides?
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