He laughed, softly. Like what Qubit proposed was honestly funny, and it was. He didn't want to rule the world, not really. He wanted to build the future he knew the world could become. He wanted the world to be remade, better, more beautiful, more intelligent. No more of those stupid fights the lessers tried to get into. People were greedy, foolish people. You give them something like extremis and they resort to violence.
So you watch them. See how they react. You keep watch until they're so afraid of acting out. People were funny, when they thought they could get caught. They'd behave, and then year after year, they'd learn. Slowly, but surely, you could prune those impulses free, and then you had nothing left but actual people. The kinds that could build a future to be proud of. Technocratic? Maybe. Certainly not harmful. Hell, he hadn't even killed the man who'd protested him on TV. Qubit had...interesting views, on what he suspected was a pretty stark picture of black and white.
"I don't know, being a god's not so hard. I know Thor, I'm sure by now, I'm an expert," he chided, that arrogance that lilted in his tone was overconfident, and airy. Like it really was nothing. He knew better than to just tell someone his plans. Or get them to understand -- even if he suspected that if he covered the truth, if he really thought about it, he'd see that Tony Stark was completely right. And he really did love being right. Every time.
"I don't know why people like you think you know better than me," he chided, another step forward. The suit's arms gripped tighter. "But for some reason, you all think that way. Do you know how hard it is to get anything done around peers? Good thing there are memory wipes," he said simply.
Ah yes, memory wipes. He leaned in close, fingers tight around the neck of the broken bottle. "Maybe I'll just skim a little bit off the top, when I wipe yours."
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So you watch them. See how they react. You keep watch until they're so afraid of acting out. People were funny, when they thought they could get caught. They'd behave, and then year after year, they'd learn. Slowly, but surely, you could prune those impulses free, and then you had nothing left but actual people. The kinds that could build a future to be proud of. Technocratic? Maybe. Certainly not harmful. Hell, he hadn't even killed the man who'd protested him on TV. Qubit had...interesting views, on what he suspected was a pretty stark picture of black and white.
"I don't know, being a god's not so hard. I know Thor, I'm sure by now, I'm an expert," he chided, that arrogance that lilted in his tone was overconfident, and airy. Like it really was nothing. He knew better than to just tell someone his plans. Or get them to understand -- even if he suspected that if he covered the truth, if he really thought about it, he'd see that Tony Stark was completely right. And he really did love being right. Every time.
"I don't know why people like you think you know better than me," he chided, another step forward. The suit's arms gripped tighter. "But for some reason, you all think that way. Do you know how hard it is to get anything done around peers? Good thing there are memory wipes," he said simply.
Ah yes, memory wipes. He leaned in close, fingers tight around the neck of the broken bottle. "Maybe I'll just skim a little bit off the top, when I wipe yours."