The Council's military had received its orders and begun dispersing the crowds in the streets. They had also started scrubbing the various videos circulating online, though progress was very slow.
Vulcan had ultimately noticed what was happening outside the palace, and just as Deathstroke had predicted, rage and humiliation drowned his reason.
This man who still wanted to become emperor had actually flown out of the palace himself like a lunatic, venting his fury on the giant screens and displays along the nearby streets.
And Deathstroke's group, hiding on the moon, saw all of it clearly through the ship's sensors.
"There's probably something wrong with this guy's brain." Peter tapped his temple. "Those fake videos are all stored in the planetary network. We proactively cut off the interstellar network beforehand to prevent them from spreading and causing trouble, but punching screens won't delete the data."
Just as Star-Lord had said, the observation display showed Vulcan floating in the street, his red cape draped over him.
He looked at the footage playing on a huge mall display, made a face like a screaming prairie dog, then punched straight through the massive screen.
Su Ming sighed and looked speechlessly at Gladiator. "You actually let a guy like this keep you tied up for so long. Fine. Do you see those ships?"
He pointed through the porthole at the Council's motley fleet in the distance.
"My mistake. Please continue."
Kallark generously accepted Deathstroke's criticism. Now that he saw it, Vulcan's weakness lay in his intellect and mental state. In the past, fighting him head-on had meant challenging the enemy where he was strongest.
That was a tactical error. When someone pointed out an error, one should humbly accept it.
"In thirty minutes, Earth time, break into that warship. Then use its broadcast system