"It wasn't my fault. They were bad people. They were doing bad things at the time. I just stopped them, right?"
Half an hour later, Steve was still a little dazed. Su Ming pulled the butt of the doctored cigar from his mouth and tossed it out the car window, watching it fall into the Potomac River, which flowed straight into the sea.
"Right, well said. If you can talk, talk some more."
Su Ming smiled at his handiwork. Hadn't he straightened out Steve, who had been brooding himself into a corner?
Though Steve wore the Stars and Stripes uniform, he preferred opposing the United States more often than not. He would not take part in wars he considered unjust, nor would he accept missions with obvious dark undertones. It could be said that he was an interventionist on a higher level.
With his simple moral values, he tried to make the world a better place. That was the fundamental reason he had become a Superhero.
He was subjective and stubborn, but as long as there was a way to "persuade" him, there was no need to worry about him causing any problems.
The good news now was—there were plenty of mushrooms.
Steve shook his head. He felt a little muddled, but much better inside. He knew he had done nothing wrong. He had merely killed some bad people.
What he did not know was whether the public would understand. But even if they did not, he could endure the accusations of thousands. That was what a hero should do.
"What was I going to say again?" Steve felt slightly lightheaded. Through the car window, he looked out at the snowy white world. They were driving along the riverside highway, and not far beneath the roadbed lay the increasingly broad