Werewolves of London

Sol wondered what the purpose of this masked, would-be superhero "Firebomb Fritz" really was. 
He felt an urge to talk shit about him, yet neither Laika nor Gadsio were walking with him, giving him only one true option.
He raised the Omnitrix to his lips as if to cough, and let the shit flow from his mouth and into its auditory receptical. "Why the hell does this town need a local defender? Aren't wandering heroes like us enough to solve their issues?"
"Lots of places on your backwater planet have local defenses, Sol. For example, consider the police."
"Yeah, but the police don't do shit compared to what we manage to pull off! Besides, what's the National Guard for, then?"
Feeling eyes upon him, he blushed and vowed to lower his voice if he spoke to the Omnitrix again. He did not really need nor want to, though, at least not anymore.
"Sol, I entirely agree with you," the Omnitrix spoke back. "The system of democracy your silly little planet envisions as perfect slows down the effectiveness of your police force. The power should be concentrated, and none should question the path it decides for itself."