Chapter 116: What It's Like to Convince a Superhero to Star in a Movie

Michael stared at the grilled meat in front of him, utterly speechless. How to put it? It was just... ordinary. A typical fast-food chain, with only a few tables inside. At this hour, besides the staff, they were the only customers.

“So this is the barbecue place you mentioned?” Michael voiced his doubt.

Tony looked a bit embarrassed. “It’s my first time here too.”

“Dude, this is obviously a fast-food joint,” Michael said with a sigh.

He wasn’t a fan of such places—too little meat, too many buns, meager portions, all under the guise of specialty dishes but overpriced. Most importantly, the taste was nothing special; if you wanted more meat, it was just a waste of money.

Only Thor nonchalantly stuffed another bun into his mouth.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

But after surviving so much, no one really cared to nitpick. As long as they could fill their stomachs, it was enough.

Michael turned to Rhodey. “Pass along a message for me. If any soldiers came with you today and their superiors want to dismiss them, they can come work at our company.”

“Got it, I’ll relay that,” Rhodey nodded.

Tony then suggested, “How about we head over to my place to sit down and discuss the Avengers?”

“Sounds good.”

They all made their way to Tony’s office. While watching the latest news reports, they began organizing their thoughts.

“First, how many of you are committed to joining? Keep in mind, if we go independent, the government might not be on our side,” Michael said, looking around.

No one backed out; everyone quietly met his gaze.

After a moment of silence, Banner spoke up, “I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I desperately need a job to put food on the table. Do I have any other choice?”

“Okay,” Michael continued, “I’ll have everyone sign a contract later. The Avengers is everyone’s organization, but it still needs money to operate.”

Tony poured everyone a glass of red wine and added, “No need to worry about that. With you and me around, funds won’t be a problem.”

Michael nodded. How to put it? Having Tony on the team meant not only no salaries but also Tony footing the bill to build the base, later even offering Stark Tower as a headquarters for free. It was pure passion driving the effort.

Michael said, “I plan to turn a profit.”

“What?” Everyone thought they misheard.

“Profit?”

Tony looked puzzled.

“Comics, animations, movies, figurines, toys, models, decorations, stickers, graffiti, advertisements, games…” Michael listed.

“From the reports, we’re already becoming popular. With everyone’s reputation, we can easily convert that into gold.”

“Wait,” Steve interrupted, halting Michael’s speech.

Michael looked at Steve, curious about his point.

“Aren’t we a team of heroes? Heroes don’t exist for profit. We’re not businessmen. We’re united by justice and ideals.”

Michael smiled. “Do ideals come without money? Famous singers always say their dream is to sing and bring happiness to people, but every concert ticket, every album costs money. Happiness comes with money.”

“Actually, money and justice aren’t in conflict. If we earn money the right way—cleanly and properly—why shouldn’t we make a profit?”

“Are you worried that money will corrupt your ideals? Or taint your soul? There’s no need for that. We have to live too.”

Steve opened his mouth to say more, but Michael didn’t give him a chance and pressed on.

“Running an organization costs money every moment. We need to build a base—land, construction, materials, workers—and after that, chefs, security, cleaning staff.”

“All of that costs money. Of course, we can work for justice and protection without taking a cent, but we still need money to live.”

Tony nodded in agreement. “Even if those costs vanish, there are still water bills, food, internet fees. And sometimes you want to buy new clothes, travel, get a car…”

“Planning finances early on is better than scrambling later. Although we’re both wealthy and can support the organization indefinitely, that doesn’t mean only we should bear the financial responsibility.”

Steve pondered and finally said, “Alright, but I hope our organization won’t engage in arms dealing, drugs, or other shady businesses.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t,” Michael assured him.

Suddenly, the elevator doors slid open, and a familiar figure stepped in.

Everyone stared, frozen. A question lingered in their hearts: weren’t you dead?

Agent Coulson smiled, “Am I not coming at the right time? Oh, I’m here to deliver Director Fury’s orders.”

“You rascal,” Tony’s eyes reddened, his body trembling involuntarily.

He walked over to Coulson, raised his arm—Coulson braced for a hit but was surprised when Tony just lightly tapped his shoulder.

“Next time you fake your death, I’m never talking to you again.”

Coulson chuckled. “Won’t happen again.”

“Honestly, it wasn’t on purpose. I was seriously injured. It was all Director Fury’s idea.”

Black Widow rolled her eyes. “I think you’re all accomplices at best. Stop trying to shirk responsibility.”

Steve approached Coulson, pulling out a stack of cards and tossing them his way. “You old fanboy, don’t come asking me for autographs anymore.”

Coulson looked at the cards, all signed, and smiled as he pocketed them.

He turned to Michael. “Michael, you’re in trouble. This is from Director Fury.”

“Who?”

“The government and military. They’re furious about you secretly keeping troops and dangerous weapons and have decided to sue you.”

“Let them,” Michael said indifferently.

Coulson warned, “Suit yourself, but watch out for their dirty tricks.”

Michael nodded, acknowledging the warning.

“Once you’ve made your decision, notify Director Fury. See you later.”

“See you.”

Coulson left, waving his sleeve as if taking nothing with him.

After Coulson’s departure, Michael continued, “I know many of you still doubt the idea of turning a profit, but what I want everyone to understand is that we’re not just doing business—we’re spreading positive energy.”

“Positive energy?” Everyone mulled over the phrase, finding it increasingly intriguing.

“Everyone’s watched movies, right? What do their stories ultimately teach us? What lessons do they leave behind?”

Gwen answered, “Movies nowadays are pretty dull. Mostly romance, especially vampire stories that twist morals, focusing on decadent, materialistic aristocracies, or horror flicks that only rely on screams. Very boring. Only detective stories are somewhat watchable.”

Michael nodded. “So our movie’s theme is heroes. A well-crafted hero figure can inspire children properly, guide them in the right direction, and establish correct values—a concept I call positive energy.”

“We need to convey the right ideas and life philosophies to the world. The more good people there are, the less room for bad ones. Our society becomes more stable. That’s why I believe the film industry is so crucial.”

Everyone pondered Michael’s words, finding more and more truth in them.

Suddenly, Gwen said, “I get it now. Fighting for justice can save one person, but ideas can change many.”

“Exactly. Kindness and justice are contagious, but we need channels to spread that contagion. This isn’t the age of speeches anymore—we need better channels, like film and television.”