The Demon God's body blotted out the sky. Anyone who wasn't blind could see it, and naturally, the entire Western Hemisphere saw a terrifyingly black silhouette from behind.
Daredevil: "..."
In the bar, Daredevil ordered a beer. Because they were too far away, his senses couldn't "see" what was happening, so Spider-Man narrated it for him.
As payment, Spider-Man got a glass of milk with no sugar.
There was no helping it. Minors were forbidden from drinking alcohol.
Daredevil's mask exposed his stubbly chin. He looked like a weathered middle-aged man, so all he had to do was jut out his chin to order a drink.
Spider-Man couldn't do that. His mask covered every angle without a blind spot, and he himself was unwilling to take it off, so he could only order nonalcoholic drinks and milk.
"So, did they start fighting?"
"Probably not."
"Probably?"
"The Sorcerer Supreme's back is too huge. The whole screen is black, so I can't see anything."
"..."
The two street-level heroes sat alone in a corner of the bar. Their way of gathering intelligence was extremely down-to-earth, relatable, and helpless. Most mutation-based superheroes were like this.
Thirty seconds later, pumping music began playing in the bar. Tony Stark entered in his gaudy outfit, with Steve beside him, covering his face in embarrassment.
These two superheroes were far more popular. One was a vintage-class superhero who had fought since World War II, with his versions constantly being upgraded—from running fast and jumping high at first, to running very fast and jumping very high now.
The other...
Was rich!
Being rich meant he could do whatever he wanted. After entering, Tony announced that all of tonight's expenses were on him and told the bar owner to take the bill to Stark Tower tomorrow. Using money to