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Actually, Dangerman gave up on that idea a long time ago. There was just too much of a grey area when it comes to fighting crime, at least, fighting crime directly. And really, what does it really do? What does it contribute? Crime fighting in the sense of going out on the streets and beating up thugs? Vigilantism is the nicest thing you could say about that. Assault, endangerment and unnecessary brutality would be more accurate in describing the traditions of freelance pugilistic community service.
No, beating the bejeebus outta people, and really, they're people, not "thugs" or "scumbags". Sure, some ain't nice, not even when they're off the clock, but only a fraction are probably genuinely "evil". But anyway, digression aside, violence turned out to not solve very many problems. It solved some, but at the end of the day, all it really did was reduce the quality of life for everyone involved.
And that's when it hit him. Quality of life. Fighting crime. Being a hero.
Think about it, a punch to the face, WHAM! BAM! and a "Thank you ma'am, here's your purse back" and everything may seem settled, but when that punch to the face turned out to cause a detachment of the retina on the "thug", who can't afford the medical treatment and has to go right back out there and mug someone else? Where's the service to the community in that?
No, that's when Dangerman realized something. That's when he realized the TRUE superpower he's been given. It wasn't the apparent immortality, which had its uses. It wasn't the suit, that's just his true appearance after all. Or even any of the other pseudo-mythical abilities he's discovered since the incident at the dock with Ken.
No, Dangerman's real superpower, is MONEY.
Money he's got in spades. Money he uses to improve the prospects of those who are most at risk to become a burden and even a threat to the community. Money he uses not just to give to the needy, but to open up new businesses, to begin development projects, to invest in medical research and educational development, and so forth and such forth. All of which, aside from providing employment for the unemployed, reducing the crime rate and improving the lot of everyone in general, also serves to simply make him more powerful, to make him RICHER. Which in turn, allows him to continue the cycle.
Was it his luck or his "Danger Sense" that allowed most of his ventures to succeed? Who knows. It could be he's simply been chosen by God, or the Devil. The point is, Dangerman does what Dangerman set out to do. Fight crime!
DON'T make it voluntary. DO make it mandatory... or you're fired!
That's right. Make do-gooding PROFITABLE. Make do-gooding... a JOB.
Pay people not to work, but to directly serve the community. Engage in a CAREER of fulfilling service to those around you. Attractive remunerations and benefits as you rise up the ladder. Learn valuable administrative skills, how to parley with organizers, survey areas for development and much more! We offer not just a job, but a career!
*fresh graduates encouraged to apply.
Yup. That's it. That's the solution. PAY people to do a job well done. Have performance evaluations based on contributions to the community. Offer attractive pay rises. Let people do good full time, rather than whenever time and will permits. In one fell swoop, this helps alleviate unemployment as well as provide the manpower Dangerman requires to, say it with me now, "FIGHT CRIME (indirectly but far more effectively than directly)!"
It also turned out to be good business, as aside from being a major tax write off, under proper management, it managed to turn a good profit. Go figure.
That's the theory of it at least. The practice is that it's a logistical nightmare to coordinate all these aforementioned doodads, much better to just buy big boomsticky guns and blow things up dead.
But Dangerman don't work like that. There's always a solution. Always an alternative to the "dark side". And lo and behold, enter Sandy.
Avery Sandy Whitmore, or more widely known by his true identity, *****, would enter Dangerman's employ, and eventually handle all the administrative nitpicks that Dangerman is eminently unsuited for. He is trusted implicitly by the pointy horned boss and he'd be effectively the most powerful individual in Nakamura Zaibatsu if he would just flaunt it from time to time, which he doesn't.
They say that you need to have one thing you do better than everyone else in order to stand out. Not so with Sandy, who has no one exceptional skill, but his willingness to work, learn and observe and exercise common sense and make logical conclusions, make him more effective than any superman. And despite never seeming to leave the office, he's not only able to keep abreast of what's going on, but seems to have an abnormal amount of contacts and pull. His secret? That's a secret.
It all began with the rise of a beautiful morning sun, beautiful because he in a highrise penthouse. The dregs down on ground level only got an eye full of skyscrappers and multi-storey buildings one storey short of being legally required to install elevators and therefore increase cost. But anyways...
Dangerman! Yeah, he woke up one morning after a night of boffing hot chicks and playing Katamari, to the face of evil incarnate. Who happened to be a pretty cute chick Dangey wouldn't mind having a deep meaningful nookie with, but something told him, this is one chick he really ought not to be disrespectin' yo.
"Yo baby, Heaven must be missing an angel, 'cause you're here right now.", primal instinct warning him otherwise aside, Dangerman couldn't resist hitting on her anyway, it was a matter of principle.
"That's Samael Dangerman, I was never an angel.", she corrected. "In any case, there's something you need to know that will play a big part in one of your ultimate destinies."
"You're cursed to suck with machines."
"...I guess I can learn to dig th-"
"It's not a fetish you pervert. It simply means that you couldn't use a pair of pliers without probably breaking it. It's technically a curse, it's one of the prices you have to pay in being the avatar of evil."
"Which would be you of course."
"Of course. So yeah, you break stuff. That's actually going to be vitally important, aside from being just plain inconvenient. Anyway, you've been forewarned and I've got golf in half an hour. So I'm off."
"Golf huh?" Dangerman mused, "always knew that was the pastime of evil..."
Men are angels without wings; demons without horns.
Next time on Dangerman: The Devil Wears A Crown