American comic book: My Father is Superman, am I just an NPC?

Chapter 20 Metropolis! Never Going Too Terrible!

Ian's college entrance exam scores in his previous life were very good.

However, his social experience, both in his past and present lives, was far from ideal. Nevertheless, Ian felt he deserved at least some respect from adults.

"Did someone forget to say thank you?" Seeing that both the cashier and the black robber looked confused, Ian spoke again in a slightly suggestive tone, trying to remind the black robber.

"What are you saying? Get out of here!" The robber snapped out of his daze and yelled angrily at Ian, brandishing his small-caliber pistol at Ian as if he were rapping.

"Don't delay me, kid. I still have three places to rob today!" It has to be said that this black robber is definitely a rare hard-working person among his own race.

I've set myself a very heavy workload.

Can also understand.

After all, the metropolis is right next to Gotham, a land of outstanding people and talents. People often overflow or are rejected by the metropolis. Some streets are even filled with ordinary people selling goods, taking customers, and disposing of corpses.

"Huh? Rude robber, sir? I thought you had great taste in choosing masks!" Ian remained standing still despite the robber's threat.

The black guy wearing meat stockings on his head was on the verge of a breakdown.

"Damn it! What do you want?" He kept his right hand holding the gun, two fingers pressed against his temple, looking as if he was speechless at Ian.

"Thank you! Thank you so much! Is this okay now?"

at last.

The black robbers were unable to win the standoff with Ian.

"Okay, you can continue your work, sir." Satisfied with the respect he wanted, Ian turned and left again. He knew he should try to blend into the world's atmosphere, and he also knew that as an [ordinary NPC], he shouldn't get too involved in various events.

Saving the world and maintaining peace is the job of superheroes. They are blessed by the will of the universe and can just go for it. But ordinary NPCs like Ian have much more to consider.

Same operation.

Superheroes might succeed in doing this, but if an ordinary NPC with little luck were to do it, they would likely only end up as heroes that superheroes would "remember" and reminisce about. That's why, while Blackie fulfilled the responsibility bestowed upon him by his black skin, Ian felt he should also respect the social norms of Metropolis.

That's all.

An ordinary NPC like him won't be dragged out for nostalgia or reminiscence someday. To be honest, Ian is very aware that an ordinary NPC should do what an ordinary NPC should do.

Eat, sleep, enjoy life, and secretly become stronger.

"Clap, clap."

Ian munched on a sandwich and drank Coca-Cola, working hard to build muscle as he walked out of the store. The robbers only turned away with relief after watching him completely leave.

“Listen, let’s continue… Don’t think I’m a good guy. If that kid were an adult, I would have shot him dead!” The robber began to get into character again.

He grinned menacingly and threatened the cashier again, "Give me all the money! And all the anonymous gift cards!"

"And a few Marlboro cigarettes over there! And a lighter too!" The robber's target was unusually clear, and he also pulled out a large black plastic bag from his waist.

They look very experienced.

Be well prepared.

And at this time.

Welcome!

The welcome bell at the door rang again.

"??????"

The robber's expression was priceless. He watched as that damned boy walked back, the stockings over his head almost being inhaled into his throat from the sudden gasp.

"What else do you want!?"

The distraught robbers were on the verge of screaming to the heavens.

"No, I'm not looking for you. I just used my financial acumen a few times." Ian walked to the cashier and looked at the cashier who was packing the robber's belongings.

He carefully considered his choice of words.

"Um... I wanted to ask, since this store is destined to be robbed of everything today anyway, could you give me back the thirty dollars and forty-five cents I just paid?"

Under the increasingly bewildered gaze of the robber, Ian remained polite, speaking with a slightly embarrassed tone. The cashier, in his twenty-odd years of life, had never encountered anything like this before.

"what?"

The cashier looked completely bewildered.

“Anyway, your shop has insurance, so you’ll get whatever compensation you’re owed. Giving me my money back would be a win-win-win situation, and everyone would have a good day.” Ian was demonstrating his naive negotiation skills. He felt his thinking was flawless, absolutely living up to his superhuman intelligence of 2.4.

Superman has a super brain, and Ian, as Superman's son, even if he's just an adopted son, certainly does! His super brain tells him that he can save a small expense here.

Think about it!

He got his expenses back, which also means that the circulation of contraband such as flour in the illegal market will save at least thirty and forty-five cents!
This is what I call macroeconomic control in economics, which I've never even studied! Besides, isn't this situation contributing to the stability and peace of the metropolis?

Ah!
He didn't embarrass himself by being the son of Superman!
"How about it?"

Ian's logic was consistent, and he looked at the cashier with expectant eyes.

"Um... what a wonderful day I had?" The cashier felt something was off, but for some reason, he thought the boy's story made a lot of sense.

He just doesn't understand where he went wrong.

“You could take a few days off because of this, maybe even pocket a few large sums of money, and claim workers’ compensation.” Ian’s answer was simply impeccable.

"Can this still happen?"

The cashier slapped his forehead, suddenly realizing what was going on. He looked at the silent robber with a questioning gaze. It took the black robber a long time to figure out Ian's thought process.

"Then wouldn't I be at a loss?"

The black robber frowned, his voice filled with displeasure. He finally understood completely that Ian's actions would reduce his earnings for the day by thirty dollars and forty-five cents.

"..."

The cashier looked at Ian again.

"Can you pretend I never came in to buy bread?" Ian suggested, blinking. His suggestion, which ignored the facts, silenced the black robber once again.

The cashier nervously swallowed.

Just when he thought the black robbers might be about to explode.

"This kid's right. Quick, give him back his thirty dollars, and then we'll all have a good day!" The black robber brandished his gun at the cashier, threatening him a few times.

"It's thirty dollars and forty-five cents."

Ian whispered a reminder.

The robber glanced at him, then at the cashier, and nodded to indicate that he would refund the amount.

"..."

The cashier was completely numb.

"Give."

He counted out thirty dollars and forty-five cents and handed them to Ian.

"You can do math, right? You look like a student, with that kind of... how should I describe it, you're bold." The robber's eyes actually darted around for a moment when he saw Ian accept the refund. Then, he suddenly asked a question that seemed completely unrelated to what was happening now.

It really did seem a bit abrupt.

However, Ian only felt that the other person's thought process was abnormal.

"You have such good eyesight? You're wasting your talents as a robber!"

Ian's response can be considered an admission.

After Ian nodded in slight surprise, the black robber immediately asked expectantly, "Great! Quick! Calculate how much tax I need to declare for this trip!"

This is definitely a case of revealing one's true intentions.

Good guy.

They're robbers, yet they're still tax-abiding citizens of America? This truly surprised Ian; he was utterly astonished, feeling like he'd learned something new in another day.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art was teaching him something new every day.

"Hmm? You don't want me to steal your thirty dollars again, do you?" The robber began to threaten. Clearly, this guy agreed to Ian's refund request with the intention of "using" Ian.

have to say.

Very strong, very rare.

There are even strategists among the lower-class Black people!
(End of this chapter)