Capítulo 225: Chapter 222: With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility
Gordon's unwavering determination made Martin sigh deeply.
He suddenly muttered, "Then I'm sorry, Gordon!"
"What?"
Before Gordon could fully react, Martin delivered a swift karate chop to the back of his neck, causing him to pass out instantly.
"This way, you won't get fired," Martin said with a wry smile, glancing at the camera.
This moment was broadcast live on Fox News, catching the attention of countless viewers. Even more people began switching their channels to Fox News, captivated by the unfolding drama.
In Los Angeles, for instance, Grant and Linda were glued to their TV.
"My God, what is Martin doing? Oh Lord, don't let him do something foolish!" Linda exclaimed, her hands covering her mouth in shock and worry.
Grant, mouth agape, could only think, Has my son lost his mind?
Trying to regain his composure, Grant picked up the phone and called Martin.
On screen, Martin glanced at his phone's display before hanging up. Turning to the live camera, he said, "Sorry, Dad, I have to go. Maybe this isn't the best choice, but it's one I have to make. Just think of it as me being too immersed in my Spider-Man role—'With great power comes great responsibility!'"
Meanwhile, in a room where the Spider-Man crew had gathered, director Sam Raimi was watching the live broadcast with the team.
Hearing Martin's line, Raimi slapped his thigh in excitement. That quote is going to be phenomenal for the film's promotion!
But then another thought crossed his mind: If something happens to Martin, it could backfire terribly.
"Damn it, Martin, you'd better come back safe!" Raimi yelled, a sentiment echoed by everyone in the room.
"God bless Martin."
"He'll be okay."
"It's not the smartest move, but I admire Martin's courage!"
In a corner, Scarlett stood silently, her heart pounding as she watched Martin secure one end of a steel cable to the helicopter.
Just then, Jessica's call came through.
"Martin, it's Jessica. We're—"
Jessica barely started before Martin interrupted her. "Jessica, I know you can't talk freely right now, and I understand your situation. Don't worry—I'm coming down to rescue you."
Before she could respond, he hung up.
Having confirmed Jessica and the others were safe, Martin's thoughts shifted slightly. It wasn't just about rescuing them anymore—it was about making an impression.
Saving hostages from armed criminals would instantly make him a national hero. The fame and reputation this act would bring weren't just for show; they would also shield him in the future, crafting a public image as untouchable as armor.
As for the risks? For an ordinary person, this would be incredibly dangerous. But for Martin?
Heh. He had faced much worse, more terrifying situations.
"Are you really going down there?" the news anchor, Kyla, asked. Her initial shock had turned into a strange calmness.
"Of course. I told you, my friends are in there," Martin replied, still angling himself perfectly for the camera.
He had deliberately chosen this angle. The dim, flickering helicopter lights combined with his steady voice and a touch of magic made his demeanor exude unwavering resolve. It carried an air of tragic valor, something akin to the mood of the ancient phrase, "The winds blow cold across the Yi River."
Viewers at home watching the live broadcast were deeply moved. Some shed tears for Martin's loyalty to his friends.
Even if many still didn't think Martin's actions were smart or rational, they couldn't help but admire, respect, and feel touched by him.
Self-sacrifice—risking one's life for others—is one of humanity's most primal and stirring acts, etched into our DNA.
The helicopter descended to about ten meters above the bank's rooftop.
Martin threw the steel cable down.
The camera zoomed in on him.
The cameraman's hands trembled slightly, overwhelmed by emotion.
"I'm going down," Martin said simply before sliding down the cable without hesitation.
"He's a hero," the cameraman murmured, speaking what was in the hearts of many.
Suddenly, Kyla turned to the cameraman. "Jet, do you have that portable camera with you?"
"Uh?" Jet, momentarily stunned, instinctively answered, "Yes, it's in my bag."
"Great. Connect it to the signal. I want to capture Martin's entire rescue."
"What?" Jet exclaimed, his voice trembling. "You… you want me to take the portable camera and go down there?"
His face was full of disbelief.
Kyla's reply shocked him even more. "No. I am going down."
Her words left viewers across the nation stunned.
In truth, Kyla was just as terrified. She kept mentally encouraging herself: Come on, Kyla. For the Pulitzer Prize. You can do this!
Jet pulled out the portable camera and connected it to the live feed, his mind repeating one phrase: Maybe I should go instead…
But he couldn't bring himself to say it.
Even as Kyla strapped on the camera, wrapped her hands in her sleeves, and began shakily sliding down the cable, he still couldn't voice the thought.
Humans instinctively fear death. Only the brave can overcome such terror.
Inside the VIP room of the Manhattan Second Bank:
"What did Martin say?"
"He said he's coming to rescue us!" Jessica's fear had vanished, replaced by starry-eyed admiration.
"What?!" Lindsay and Dorothy gasped in unison, lowering their voices.
"That's too dangerous!"
"He can't do this!"
"Someone stop him!"
Jessica, suddenly dejected, said, "I… I tried calling him back, but he already turned off his phone."
"Does he know where we are?" Lindsay asked.
Dorothy hesitated. "Did I mention to Martin that we're in the VIP room when I called earlier?"
The three girls exchanged uncertain glances, unable to remember.
Of course, Martin knew their exact location—Love Tracker worked as a homing beacon.
Not only that, Martin had expended a significant amount of magic to scan the entire bank, ensuring his rescue plan would go off without a hitch.
He didn't mind the cost. As he descended from the helicopter, an overwhelming surge of emotions flowed into him, all inspired by his "heroic" act.
He was confident that as this event continued to "ferment," even more emotions would pour into his magical reservoir.
"Four hostiles, decent weapons. Tough for regular cops, but for me…"
As he mused, Martin suddenly looked up. A skirt-clad figure, descending awkwardly, came straight at him.
What the…?
Martin twisted midair, catching the person instinctively.
"Kyla? What are you doing here?"
"I…" Kyla hesitated, then steadied herself and said resolutely, "I have my duty. I'm not a hero, but I'm a journalist! I can't save lives, but I can document them!"
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