"Stop whining, hehe. You chose this plan because you intended to pull the old hero-saves-the-beauty routine, didn't you?"
As Little Superman complained with a mournful expression, Deathstroke cheerfully exposed him, pointing a finger at the young man from afar.
"Don't worry. Those Synthezoids will cooperate with you. Of course, the game zone won't expand here at first. After all, Kansas really isn't a strategically contested place."
"That's exactly the problem." The young man set down the Superman figurine in his hand. His brush was dipped in blue paint. "Summoners and Servants can't just show up in this little town for no reason. There are still smart people in my world."
He had chosen this Holy Vat Project himself. Really, it was quite simple: all he needed to do was protect his family through a series of minor disturbances, while playing the part of a Superhero well.
But people's fear and suspicion of him had seeped into their bones. Without a proper reason, joining a war himself would only make them more afraid.
"The Servants are all controlled by Adjutant. If they want to come to Kansas, they'll definitely find a suitable excuse, like craving fresh corn or something." Su Ming blew out a smoke ring, then produced two more bottles of beer, one for each of them. "And those people you mentioned aren't called smart people. They're called conspiracy theorists and Little Blackies."
Superboy-Prime was now in a position where everything he did was wrong. A whole bunch of people were watching him, looking for clout.
When war broke out, if he joined in, people would say he had ulterior motives. If he did not, people would say he was standing by and watching others die.
Conspiracy theorists did not care about facts or evidence. What they wanted was profit.