What's wrong with Superman's son wanting to be Superman?

Page 451

The "hymn," amplified by the headphones to be clearer, more immersive, and more ear-piercing, exploded directly on Injustice Superman's eardrums, which were already filled with rejection!

"this!!!!"

Injustice Superman was struck dumb, frozen in place!

His face, already haggard from various blows, instantly lost all color, leaving only an extreme despair and a sense of hopelessness, as if he had seen the ultimate truth of the universe.

Then, this Superman from a parallel universe stiffly, like a rusty robot, turned his head inch by inch, his empty eyes fixed on Clark Kent beside him.

For the first time, Clark in this universe, when faced with the gaze of another version of himself, dared not meet it. He subconsciously looked away, feeling guilty.

It's as if the father has to bear half the blame for the sins committed by his son.

"This won't do!" Injustice Superman's voice was dry, like sandpaper scraping, every word filled with a tearful accusation, "This absolutely won't do!!!"

He ripped off his headphones as if throwing away a red-hot iron, and roared at Batman.

"Get this thing out of my belly! Get it out! Bruce! Wayne! By any means necessary! Get it out of my belly! I'll do anything!"

Perhaps Bruce Wayne from the Injustice Superman world is long gone, but Superman's instinct to find Batman when faced with problems is an instinct etched into the DNA of every Superman.

His voice was almost broken, filled with a desperate madness. For a former iron-fisted ruler to utter such pleading words speaks volumes about the mental anguish he had suffered.

“Batman can’t solve everything…” Bruce Wayne’s voice was unusually lacking in confidence, and he at least appeared expressionless as he stared at the scrolling data stream on the main control screen.

"According to the scan results, the twelve energy aggregates have begun to take shape. They are deeply bound to your vital signs, and..."

Bruce Wayne paused for a moment.

His tone became heavier, even carrying a hint of helplessness that he himself was unaware of.

"It has been implanted with an extremely powerful [anti-removal protocol]. This protocol is not simply a technical gene lock, but more like a conceptual protection based on a mixture of higher heavenly laws and some kind of chaotic logic. In the name of justice and benevolence, it is difficult to break, and the consequence of forcibly removing it is to suffer the punishment of justice."

Bruce didn't specify what kind of righteous punishment he would face, perhaps because he didn't dare to speculate too much for fear of losing sleep at night; his words carried a slightly ambiguous tone.

He once again felt an unparalleled sense of difficulty.

"Really not? I don't believe you can't do it." Injustice Superman still had a lot of faith in Batmen from various universes, especially the Batman from this particular universe in front of him, who was sure to be quite capable.

"Don't ask me. The embryo is already formed, and I have a no-kill policy." Batman's tone returned to absolute rationality, as if stating a physical law. He was now even more determined in his "no-kill policy," and now it was paying off. He had long known that this policy would definitely be useful in crucial moments.

"..."

Even Injustice Superman is numb.

He collapsed completely onto the testing bed.

His eyes were dim.

It was as if I could already see my unspeakable future.

Seeing Injustice Superman looking utterly hopeless, Batman remained silent for a moment before turning his white glasses to Clark, who was also looking ashamed.

“This is your family matter, Clark.”

Batman's voice was devoid of emotion, but his intention to shift blame couldn't be clearer: "The 'bond' your son created is your responsibility to communicate and resolve."

This was truly the only solution he could think of.

"??????" Clark looked at Bruce in disbelief, as if to say, "You actually threw such a hot potato at me?!"

Let him go and talk to Ian. He believed that Ian would definitely teach him a lesson. Just thinking about that scene made Clark feel like his super brain was about to overheat and crash!

"Well, well..."

Clark opened his mouth, only to find that any words were inadequate at that moment. He instinctively turned his head, his gaze seemingly piercing through layers of reinforced concrete towards the metropolis.

The father's incredible eyesight instantly locked onto a middle school.

In the classroom, Ian Kent sat obediently in his seat, and for a moment, there was no reason for him to cause trouble. Reflected in his father's eyes, Ian looked considerably younger.

This is the parental filter.

In Clark's mind.

Ian seemed to still be that little boy, wearing open-crotch pants, toddling around the house, swaying back and forth, each step cautious yet full of longing to explore the world.

“This might not be such a bad thing, after all, no one has been hurt.” Bruce Wayne stroked his chin and spoke in a deep voice.

"No one was hurt???"

Injustice Superman knows he's in Gotham.

But he didn't come to Gotham to be the new Joker!

……

Metropolitan High School.

Ian sat very obediently.

However, this only applies to the sitting posture.

In other aspects, he's not so well-behaved, especially his mouth. Ian's mouth is the kind that never stops, so his mouth might be Ian's true nature.

“Student! I know your club is the Knockout Prey Club, with all sorts of uniform fetishes, European and American selections, and Japanese and Korean styles, but your understanding of Batman is seriously flawed!” Ian Kent sat at his desk, his knuckles tapping the surface with a slightly aggressive sound, exuding the air of a seasoned mentor.

He was giving his classmates a pep talk, looking utterly heartbroken.

A skinny boy was shivering, wearing a "Batman" suit cobbled together from cheap black shiny fabric and cardboard. His hood was even more rudimentary—a black corrugated cardboard hood with two eye holes cut out, covering his entire head completely, making him look like an amateur robber preparing to rob a bank.

“I admire your passion for nighttime security in Gotham City, but your completely black-painted outfit shows you've fundamentally misunderstood the situation! Completely misunderstood!”

No one knows how to play Batman better than Ian McKellen, because to this day, few people question whether the Batman he portrayed, crawling in the shadows on the ground, was the real Batman.

"But Batman... isn't he all black?" the boy retorted timidly, showing a slight awe towards the school's supreme tyrant, even from his classmates.

"Superficial! Seemingly shallow!" Ian slammed his hand on the table, startling the boy. "Can you really understand Batman's uniform aesthetics and survival philosophy at a glance? I'm asking you, why does he only cover half his face? Why does he insist on showing that angular chin and sexy lips? Hmm?"

"answer me?"

Ian spoke with great enthusiasm.

The boy was stumped by the question and shook his head blankly.

“I knew you couldn’t answer any of this, it’s a hint! This is a high-level hint!” Ian held up a finger, as if imparting a little-known truth from the DC universe.

“Cover your eyes to maintain an air of mystery and intimidation, so the criminal can’t guess who you are or where you came from. But show your chin—especially that obviously white, well-maintained, even a bit punchable chin.”

"Who do you think this is sending a signal to?" Ian had long since learned how to teach others, so he was now using a patient and persuasive approach to imparting life experience.

"Is it for those 'Nantong' types in Gotham who like that chin?" The boy did try his best to think, but he was, after all, just an ordinary student in a public school.

Limited imagination.

Fortunately, Batman doesn't have Superman's hearing, otherwise, while he was giving this answer, his parents might have already started packing to be fired from their jobs.

"That's just an alternative answer. No wonder you're sixth in the grade. But your maturity level is still a bit behind mine, the top student in the grade. —Hey, don't block the sunlight, I'm about to give you a crooked smile." Ian glanced around at the students who were eavesdropping and gave the truly reasonable answer that no one could refute.

"The reason Batman doesn't dare cover his entire face is simply because bats are black, but Batman can't actually be black, otherwise the Gotham police might be more enthusiastic about shooting you than the villains." Even in this place where the teachers were declaring gender freedom, Ian didn't dare reveal too many secrets to his classmates.

"So, my friend, take my advice and change that lousy wig. At least show your chin and mouth, and maybe put on some foundation to make yourself look even whiter and more purebred."

It wasn't that Ian didn't want to give the male classmate a name, but he genuinely didn't remember it, so he could only reluctantly leave him at the level of "male classmate."

In his concluding remarks, he patted the boy on the shoulder. The boy, clutching his headdress that had been criticized as utterly worthless, was completely lost in deep self-doubt and confusion.

Young students who have never been out in society are indeed inexperienced.

After delivering his "survival philosophy," Ian clapped his hands with satisfaction, watching the boy clutching the hood, lost in thought and questioning his existence, as if he had just completed a public service lesson. He stood up and walked naturally toward the classroom door with a confident stride, even displaying a bit of a runway model's poise.

However, after taking a few steps, he suddenly stopped, somewhat confused as to why he was walking out of the classroom. Perhaps it was because this kind of showing off was so cool that he naturally started going through the motions.

"Hmm, probably because my speech was so cool, I need some space for that cool aura to flow." To avoid seeming abrupt, he casually turned into the restroom at the end of the corridor, pretended to use the toilet, and then slowly strolled back to the classroom. Actually, he wanted to go, but there was a classmate who thought he was a boy standing there urinating.

"Oh, my beloved Amelika." When Ian returned to his seat, he found that the "cardboard Batman" was gone, probably hiding in some corner to modify his uniform.

"Family members, send some gifts."

"Wow, it's Dream Castle! This move was amazing! Everyone, let's push the phrase 'Good brother for life' to the top of the chat!"

"This gift is so expensive, I'm almost embarrassed, but I'm really touched! It's so impressive! As long as you're not Lucifer, I'll love you!"

……

Someone in the classroom was watching a live stream on their phone. Ian had just sat down when his gaze was drawn to the phone screen of the girl in front of him. On the screen was a wildly popular live stream.

The streamer has long, dazzling hair that seems to flow with molten gold, and her face is so exquisitely perfect that she seems otherworldly. She sings and dances, and her attire makes it clear that she doesn't treat her viewers like outsiders at all.

This is precisely the live-streaming career that Archangel Michael, now known as Mi Jiale, has recently become obsessed with. Her impeccable looks, divine aura, and precise "borderline" artistry, achieved after identifying herself as a girl, have quickly propelled her to top-tier online fame. The Archangel has finally proven herself to excel at whatever she does.

"Oh ho~" Ian whistled silently, stretching his neck so that he almost rested his chin on the back of the chair of the girl in front of him.

"What a great anchor, such a great anchor... She really knows how to push the boundaries, no, she really knows how to push the boundaries very hard, she has a perfect grasp of the line between sacredness and desire!"

He noticed that on the live stream interface, Mi Jiale was using an innocent expression to commit live stream fraud.

"Look, she's crying! So pitiful! You feel sorry for her! Send her some gifts! Quick, send her some gifts to comfort her!" Ian immediately nudged the girl in front of him in the back with his elbow.

He knew that this female classmate, who wished to remain anonymous, was not only a female classmate, but also a contemporary, not uncommon, type of person who was attracted to the same sexual orientation as the other female classmate.

"Oh dear, I don't have much pocket money left. I don't know what's wrong with me lately, I can't keep up with everything. There are so many beautiful young ladies emerging in the live streaming industry."

Lena blushed, clearly realizing her thoughts had been exposed, and hesitated for a moment. Looking at Mi Jiale's "fragile" yet "strong" image on the screen, she finally couldn't resist and tapped the screen—[User "Lena_L" has gifted "Angel Jiale" a $50 "Holy Light Shining" gift!]

The live stream was instantly filled with dazzling special effects, and Mi Jiale went from tears to laughter. Her angelic acting was flawless, and she even sent a flying kiss, which was equivalent to earning Ian another $49.

Ian felt better.

He pressed his buttocks back against his cold student chair. Platform and union cuts? No way. Ian is the biggest union, and the platform was created by Ian.

This is what the entire industry chain looks like.

Ian's butt had barely touched the seat again, and before he was even settled, he was about to take out his phone to check his balance, wondering when he would have a social security number as long as most people's.

suddenly.

A cool hand reached out from behind and gently covered Ian's eyes. Then, a voice that was deliberately high-pitched and tried to sound sweet but sounded a bit artificial rang in his ear.

Guess who I am?

Ian didn't even bother to identify the owner of the voice. He had always had a mature and efficient procedure for dealing with such sudden attacks, from childhood to adulthood.

“Unless you’re a Pokémon, I’m not surprised at all.” Ian didn’t even hesitate for a moment. With lightning speed, he pulled a dusty, dirty-looking burlap sack from some dimensional pocket, and with practiced ease, he covered the back of his head without even looking!

"Well?!"

A short, startled cry rang out as the sack precisely covered the head of the person behind them, and due to inertia, pulled the person's upper body forward, causing them to stumble.