"I call it the Superman dilemma," I retorted, taking a step back. "It goes like this," I hummed as I moved my index fingers in lazy circles, forming up an illusion of towering towers with two small children atop them, "Superman can save everyone," a flying Superman appeared in-between the two buildings, "but he can't be everywhere, then how does he pick who to save and who not to? If in the world two children are about to die, which of the two does he save? Does he differentiate? If so, how? If not, then does he flip a coin? Does he go for the one on the right, since it's his dominant hand?" I gestured at the illusion, quite calm even though Fuuka's flames were progressing from her hands to her arms, her veins glowing a bright white light. "Who should he save? If one's a girl and one's a boy, does it change? Does he run cost-benefit analysis? Does he decide based on their blood type? Their skin color? How does a Superhero decides who lives and who dies when he's got no other choice?"
Fuuka growled, closing her eyes shut firmly, "They're here. Right now, they are here, and you are here, and so you can save them. You can, you just don't want to. You're a monster."
"Exactly," I said with a grin. "Why should I? Because there's an innocent child? Oh, cry me a river. You ever emptied your wallet to feed starving African kids? Yes? No? Hypocrite. You're a hypocrite. You dare call me a monster, but by the same token, the effort it would have taken you to give your money to a poor bloke by the corner of the street is identical. Why didn't you? Well, Miss Rabbit!? Why did you not do charity? Uh? You can rant and grumble and remark on how I can make the difference right here and now, but where were you? Where did you make a difference there and then?"