"You're really strange." Silver Sablinova raised an eyebrow. "The whole world loves superheroes—why don't you? And in a sense, someone who can cut through a heavy tank with a single sword could also be called a superhero. The whole world's seen what you can do. Are you denying your own identity?"
"Have you met those psionics? The ones with the black collars and cables."
"Of course. Their powers are a huge help in combat—especially when they predict where the enemy will show up." Silver Sablinova nodded. Though those people always made one's scalp prickle when they used their abilities, the Wild Warband still welcomed trained combat psionics. It was just that they all needed to consume large amounts of psychotropic drugs after fighting, and with early supply issues, the Warband reduced their deployment frequency until the next batch of psych meds arrived. Those psionics were the "unpromising" apprentices Solomon had found from Kamar-Taj—people who originally didn't even qualify to become Kamar-Taj apprentices because their talent didn't meet the entry threshold and who were usually picked up by other schools instead. But because Solomon needed to form the relevant departments, the Ancient One allowed him to choose from that list of short-term trained casters who carried significant mental risk.
To that end, Solomon specifically established a set of behavioral norms, oversight systems, and vetting measures to stabilize these people. Those casters whose minds had largely steadied and no longer posed much danger were assigned to various combat units, and quite a few distinguished themselves during the Latverian civil war, leaping into the ranks of higher-ups managing other casters and gaining access to knowledge within a limited scope.
"What does that have to do with superheroes?
"A psionic's abilities come from a hyperactive mind—one that can even break through the barrier of reality to draw power from another dimension. My power is the same. Every person has this potential, regardless of age, sex, skin color, language, or culture. Therefore, combat psionics are no different from ordinary people, and I am no different from them—it's just a matter of talent. The only problem is that their abilities might harm themselves and others; that's why strict control is necessary. The same goes for enhanced individuals. There's no need to treat them as some exalted special class. No one is nobler than anyone else. Worshiping superheroes is equivalent to believing you can't do certain things and need outside force to intervene."
Solomon slowed his cadence, giving "Silver Marten" Silver Sablinova time to think. In truth, he skipped many ancient secrets—like the blood of the Celestials and the extra-dimensional forces rooted in human bodies and souls that gave rise to enhanced individuals—because he didn't think Silver needed to know why Earth's biosphere and humanity were so special.
"I trust you've read the chapter on disenchanting religion in Unified Truth. Tell me—what's the difference between worshiping superheroes and worshiping God? Aren't superheroes just the saviors in the Bible before the Council of Nicaea, with a few more entertainment elements thrown in? Captain America can be Abraham, Iron Man can be Moses—anyone can be anyone, as long as you acknowledge the weakness of ordinary people, their helplessness, and their need for outside aid. Idol worship is, at its core, the admission of one's own incompetence—a plea for what does not belong to oneself. Superhero worship is essentially no different from religious superstition."
"I've never thought about it that way. And you haven't required the Wild Warband to abandon religion. I won't force my friends to do what they don't want to do—unless you can persuade them. Or force them—you know where I stand." Silver Sablinova shook her head. Solomon's words made her see the issue from a new angle, but compared to the grassroots movement to root out religious superstition, she also sensed a crisis. "We're fighting the new Nazis. That's our shared ideal—nothing more."
"I've got five minutes of office hours left. I can use that time to tell you why I promote materialism in Unified Truth." Solomon popped a sweet cream roll into his mouth and spoke breezily, as if he hadn't taken Silver Sablinova's threat (persuasion) to heart. He licked his fingers and slipped some secret diplomatic invitations from certain countries into a drawer, the very image of a lecturer about to begin. "In Latveria, we teach ordinary people how to gain power. We tell them there's nothing in this world they cannot accomplish with their own hands and intelligence. Superstitious people think our mutual unintelligibility is God's punishment for human arrogance—yet the translator issued to every resident has completely erased the language barrier. Timid people think humanity cannot challenge the sky—yet there's a starship floating right now in the void above Latveria, and the spaceport we're about to build is called the Tower of Babel. Latveria needs no gods and no superheroes. We ourselves are that. If the Superman from the comics landed in the Soviet Union, then Clark Kent would be nothing special—because there, everyone is a Superman. Read Nietzsche and Marx. It'll help you. I believe in people more than in gods. Even if humanity is weak now, I believe in its potential."
"Arrogance—that's the first sin."
"So what? You're going to condemn me with some idiot's ramblings—the umpteenth version of fanfiction?" Solomon snorted, the sound like a laugh. "I am the judge, the jury, and the executioner. Humanity does not need to heed the guidance of some void-born deity. At the end of the road I've laid out, humanity will be the gods. If beings calling themselves gods stand in our way, then kill them outright and burn every trace they ever existed. That is my attitude toward superheroes and religious superstition. Hold them in contempt. Destroy them. Whatever they can do, we can do as well—and we'll do it better."
Silver Sablinova blinked rapidly, like an onion slice had stung her eyes. "Wow. I knew you were a little crazy, but I didn't think you were this crazy. A starship? You could just fire a few missiles from orbit at Earth and rule the world. Why hole up in Eastern Europe—especially in poor Latveria?"
Solomon lifted his shoulders helplessly, not mentioning the destruction of the carrier battle groups. Silver Sablinova would see it in tomorrow's documents and briefings; the political communications department was polishing the perfect line. He didn't intend to bring it up—today's talk had a different focus.
"You're sitting right here across from me, and even you have trouble grasping the ideas in Unified Truth. If I did that, I'd face endless rebellions and waste population and resources for nothing. I came to Latveria precisely to stop that—to raise, from a blank slate, people who can understand me and share my dream. It's just that you'll be moving a bit faster. You and your Warband are about to face some very different enemies. You have one week to prepare. In a week, the Latverian regular army will go to the Transylvanian countryside to wipe out the local plutocrats' armed forces—but that's not their ultimate goal; that's just a side task. I need the Wild Warband to join this as the main assault force, coordinating with the gene-enhanced warriors and the Sisterhood."
"Transylvania?" Silver Sablinova frowned. "What threat would be big enough to require both the gene-enhanced warriors and the Sisterhood? Did some country secretly deploy troops to border cities? Or have separatists taken foreign aid and are preparing an uprising?"
"I never said the problem was people. I said the problem is vampires—and vampires who can use modern weapons." Solomon picked up another sweet cream roll and stuffed it into his mouth. The mercenary's face was full of surprise. The word "vampire" filled her thoughts so completely that she didn't even notice the TV news about 'Peggy Carter's death.' Solomon still remembered those vampires from the Devil's Son incident that attacked the S.H.I.E.L.D. airbus. In the past, he could only rely on Kamar-Taj's scant manpower to find ways to kill vampires; now he had artillery and missiles to resolve the issue faster and cleaner.
"Yes—vampires. Transylvania is the birthplace of those filthy creatures. I need a campaign to wipe out every vampire faction there and purge those parasites from the Balkans. The Eternal City will issue a dedicated manual, and the Wild Warband must learn that specialized knowledge as fast as possible. Silver, think carefully about the Warband's future. Those who can't keep up with the times are destined to be left behind."
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