Tinkerer raised his hand.
"Friendly reminder: I repaired the shell."
Doctor Octopus said, "I wrote the control program."
Smithson's face went pale again.
Chen Mo added, "They added the damage restrictions, too. It only hits roads, empty cars, riot shields, and advertising screens, steering clear of crowds. It automatically reduces power near children, school buses, and ambulances. If anyone actually dies, I'll dock their pay."
Vulture laughed behind him.
"Do we get paid?"
Chen Mo said, "You will, trust me. Though right now, all you really have are explosive collars... This really makes me look like an evil capitalist withholding workers' wages, but trust me, these aren't empty promises."
Vulture shut up.
On television, the green armor raised its hand and blasted an enormous electronic billboard beside Times Square to pieces.
Fragments scattered.
The next second, Iron Man descended from the sky, blocking the glass hurtling toward the crowd.
People screamed.
The news anchor started shouting that Iron Man had arrived.
Smithson watched the screen, his pupils slowly dilating.
He understood.
Fear.
Rescue.
Cheers.
Order was needed once again.
The government needed to institutionalize this.
Registered heroes needed to be "put to more reasonable use."
The public would actively demand someone to protect them.
And once the public started demanding it, fees, funds, dispatching, authorization, outsourcing, budgets-all of it would become perfectly natural.
Smithson slowly turned to Chen Mo.
This time, deep within the fear in his eyes, there was a trace of genuine horror.
Because he realized that this boy in the black Spider-Suit knew exactly how people like them thought.
He was even better at it than they were.
Chen Mo said with a beaming smile:
"Bad news: I really am on your side."
He bent down, leaning close to Smithson.
"Worse news: I'm more creative than you."