"You're wrong, my friend!"
Whatever he truly thought, Little Superman reined in his smile and stood tall in the air. He swept back his cloak and declared righteously:
"I believe in hope. I believe everything will get better. People may misunderstand me, but the facts will prove that I have never harmed anyone. In time, they will understand that, like their friends, neighbors, and family, I am someone who can love and be loved."
Thank goodness he had lines prompting him in his head. The Adjutant's script was like a tongue twister—really hard to recite.
"You're deceiving yourself! Superman, everyone in this world hates you. They hate you for no reason, yet you insist on lying to yourself."
The flying enemy wore a black bodysuit. Let's call him Little White for now. His eye mask covered only the upper half of his face, leaving the cameras around them free to capture the twisted curl of his mouth clearly.
"You're too extreme, my friend. I can only defeat you first, then slowly reform you." Having said that, Little Superman could finally make his move. He now deeply understood how difficult acting was, and swore that he would never again envy Hollywood stars for making so much money.
Acting was troublesome, but there were simply too many people willing to lose themselves in the performance.
Their clash differed from the battle atop the World Trade Center Twin Towers. More people were watching this one than any other.
Everyone wanted to know whether Little Superman, a local, had any connection to the Superhuman who had suddenly appeared.
So when the surrounding cameras, reporters, and bloggers broadcast everything here to the public—though even if they had not, the Adjutant's Split Program would have spread it anyway—people fell into deep thought after seeing Little Superman's