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

Chapter 238 Superman Descends from the Sky, Furious and Ferocious

Curiosity is a child's nature.

Older children are no exception.

Jordan is a seasoned master of the art of physics, Damian is a rebellious rich kid who doesn't know whether women are pretty or not, and Jonathan, who should be very popular with the school cheerleading team, is a fitness tech enthusiast who values ​​muscles more than beauty. Manually releasing cortisol requires choosing a good day to regulate it when it is too high.

woman?

Women can affect Jonathan's muscle synthesis and may even cause him to lose muscle. His orientation in this area has shifted, and who knows if it's influenced by such thoughts.

The three young Chu Nans huddled together, filled with curiosity about the "female angel" statue. Little did they know that this seemingly abandoned "angel," with its bulging pectoral muscles, was about to drag them into another unexpected trouble far beyond their comprehension.

"This statue is so perfectly round... I mean, so exquisite." Jordan, after all, was a player who had suppressed his emotions for many years, and his words flowed naturally. Even after correcting himself, he couldn't help but reach out and touch it.

As for where to touch, it was naturally the spot on many scenic statues that gets rubbed raw by people. Jordan even felt a slight warmth, though he wasn't sure if it was just his imagination.

However, knowing he might be ridiculed, he didn't dare reveal his discovery. As for Jordan's eccentricities, neither Jonathan nor Damian had yet noticed.

The two of them were looking around in astonishment at the statue that had suddenly raised its head.

"Was that statue just now with its head down?"

"Yes, I also remember that the statue was covering its face and crying just now, how come it suddenly raised its head?"

"Could it be that we remembered it wrong... What's that called when collective memory shifts? The Saddam effect?" Damian looked like a "knowledgeable" person.

"It's called the Dracula effect, I think." Jonathan, a sports student preparing to pursue a special football recruitment route, is about the same level of cultural literacy as Damian.

Three mediocre minds put together, and none of them could pronounce the Mandela Effect correctly. Of course, when academic underachievers hang out together, nobody really cares about such things.

"Regardless, this statue is indeed very artistic and looks very valuable. If we can find a way to sell it, it might fetch a high price." Jonathan stroked his chin as he commented, glancing subconsciously at Damian, the Gotham heir, who must know many wealthy people who like to collect this kind of art.

"I understand."

Damian seemed unusually "on the right track" at this moment. His face, which was usually full of rebellion and disobedience in the Batcave, actually showed a bit of the seriousness of a "reliable partner".

“Brother Jonathan, leave this to me. I’ll definitely sell it.” Damian’s emotional intelligence was off the charts; his rebellious nature seemed to only exist in his hometown of Gotham.

Once you leave that environment.

Instead, he demonstrated an exceptional ability to handle interpersonal relationships, a skill honed by his family's traditions.

"..."

Jonathan wasn't thinking of reselling something that belonged to someone else; he just wanted to know the approximate value from Damian. Damian's shrewdness left him speechless.

Damian was completely unaware of this.

He was still demonstrating his social skills. Seeing that Jordan was fascinated by the statue, admiring it with awe and even reaching out to touch its cool, smooth stone surface, the Gotham young master leaned closer, lowered his voice, and spoke in a tone as if sharing a secret.

"Jordan, I heard... that madman Joker somehow got his hands on a real angel! He's keeping it locked up in one of his safe houses and causing trouble every day!"

"How about it? Let's find a chance to steal it! Stealing from the clown, that's not a crime, right? It's called... eliminating a scourge for the people and seizing spoils of war!"

Damian's face revealed a cunning look that shouldn't belong to a legitimate descendant.

"Isn't that a crime?"

Listening to the increasingly absurd conversation, Jonathan couldn't help but interject. His simple, Kansas-farm mentality made him believe that even stealing from a criminal like the Joker was essentially a crime. After all, just because someone is a criminal doesn't mean their human rights can be ignored.

Jonathan's values ​​are the closest to Clark's.

British fruit super.

Gotham's young master Damian had a different opinion. He glanced at Jonathan with a "you're still too young" look, then patted his chest and made a confident guarantee.

"Don't worry! Just like every state has its own laws, Gotham is pretty much the same! Gotham has its own laws!" He said with certainty, as if stating a fact.

Perhaps it really is true.

"I was watching my evil tycoon father amend the relevant legal provisions! One provision clearly states that seizing dangerous or high-value items illegally held by a confirmed supervillain for 'proper safekeeping' or 'resource reuse' is a legal act!"

Good guy.

Watching his father draft laws at home.

What a niche form of entertainment!

Hearing this "Gotham Prince" say that "Gotham has its own constitution" and that he had witnessed his father amending the law, Jonathan opened his mouth, feeling his worldview being greatly shaken. He had a lot to say about the authority of the law and procedural justice.

What could they possibly say?

This is what America is like. This is America's freedom and democracy. How can it be called a democratic society if the people are not boiled down?

Jonathan, who had a clearer understanding of America's society, swallowed back the complaints that were about to spill out, ultimately turning them into a complex look and a silent resignation.

This country shouldn't be like this.

Something made Jonathan feel uneasy, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it—he suddenly remembered Ian's suggestion to try and fool him after failing to convince Louise.

Whether it's enough time to change everything depends on who's sitting in the White House. Recalling Ian's persuasive words, Jonathan had to admit that there might be some truth to them.

"If there were a president who could make America truly great just once..." Jonathan felt a mix of emotions, but compared to Jonathan, who was concerned about the authority of the law...

Jordan's attention was clearly focused on something more "practical".

"The Joker keeps angels?" he muttered to himself, then his eyes lit up as if he had just realized something, and he said in a tone of sudden realization, "Ian keeps a lot of angels too! In his factory! I bet the Joker gets his supplies from Ian! They might even have some kind of long-term cooperation agreement!"

In his sometimes even more imaginative understanding than Ian's, "angels" were something else entirely, seemingly no different from broiler chickens in a chicken farm.

"?????"

Jonathan was so shocked by these words that he just wanted to facepalm.

"Satan will definitely like you."

He offered his sincere comments on Jordan.

The eldest son of the Kent family thought that if his younger brother had lived during the Age of Exploration, he would have made great achievements in colonial trade and might have become a renowned nobleman.

What are these things?

Why did I have to stay with these two people so late at night?!

Damian and Jordan, one openly discussing "Gotham-style laws" and the other treating angels as commodities to be traded, are both incredibly ruthless, giving Jonathan, who adheres to relatively traditional moral values, a real headache. So, he tries to bring the two back on "the right track."

“I think we are all descendants of Justice League members, and we…” Jonathan began to patiently guide them to establish correct moral values, legal views, and a sense of justice.

However, Damian simply scoffed at Jonathan's "earnest advice".

"law?"

Damian's young face revealed a mockery and maturity that were completely out of character for his age.

“Brother Jonathan, I must say, you are too naive. America’s laws are themselves a form of power that serves the rich and powerful.”

He spoke eloquently, his tone so realistic it was chilling.

"Those people sitting on Capitol Hill making laws, talking about fairness and justice and prohibiting insider trading, but who among them dares to say they haven't engaged in insider trading themselves?"

"In fact, even the White House janitors are making a fortune in the stock market! Do you think Buffett would dare to call himself a stock market guru in front of those old men in Congress?"

His blunt critique of society, based on the perspectives of Gotham and the Wayne family, was like a cold needle, piercing Jonathan's relatively idealistic notions.

There is no way to defend oneself.

Because what Damian said was, to a large extent, a bloody reality. Jonathan opened his mouth, only to find that he was utterly unable to refute it from any angle.

Helpless, he could only pat his forehead listlessly, feeling a deep weariness wash over him. All he wanted now was to go home and lie in bed alone in peace. "Does anyone still remember..."

Jonathan tried listlessly to steer the conversation back to the original, relatively normal goal, "...Are we here to find old sofas that other people don't want anymore?"

They also had to transport young Master Damian back 'comfortably'.

In this regard.

Jordan, who made the suggestion, did not agree at this point.

"Wait a minute, bro." Jordan waved his hand, his attention still firmly drawn to the angel statue. His eyes darted around, as if he was plotting something.

"I want to... confirm first whether the homeowner really doesn't want this anymore."

As Jordan spoke, his gaze swept over the exquisite statue, “Even if… even if I can’t sell it, I can move it to my dorm room… as a decoration, it would be perfect.”

His tone carried a hint of barely perceptible guilt.

Jonathan looked at his younger brother's expression and a sense of foreboding washed over him. Had this kid evolved to the point where he'd use any cup that wasn't soft enough?

"Hiss~ Kryptonian~"

With Damian around, Jonathan couldn't expose Jordan's outrageous brain.

Seeing that no one objected, Jordan no longer hesitated and strode towards the gate of the magnificent villa. He raised his hand and knocked hard on the heavy solid wood door.

"Boom boom boom!"

The knocking sound carried far in the quiet night.

However, there was complete silence inside the door, with no response whatsoever.

There were no footsteps, no questions, and not even the lights were on.

“Maybe no one’s home?” Jonathan walked over, listened for a moment, and said to Jordan.

However, Jordan frowned. His eyes, which inherited Kryptonian blood, easily pierced through the heavy door and saw the scene inside.

“No…” he said in a low voice, only Jonathan could hear, his tone tinged with confusion, “I saw him… he was right there.”

"There's a woman, right behind the door... crouching, huddled in the corner... her face... her face is full of guilt!" Jordan's X-ray vision had been awakened for several days.

He could see the scene inside the house very clearly.

"Is that right?"

Jonathan was taken aback upon hearing this.

Is anyone home?

Are you still hiding behind the door, feeling guilty?
It sounds rather eerie.

"I understand!"

Damian, who had been idly kicking pebbles to the side, jumped over excitedly as soon as he heard Jordan's words, like a shark smelling blood!
"The homeowner is hiding behind the door because he feels guilty? Impossible! A normal wealthy person would have already taken out a hunting rifle by now and either chased us away or looked for an opportunity to hunt us down."

Damian's little face instantly lit up with an "I understand" expression. He clapped his hands sharply, his voice rising eight octaves: "There's only one truth to what you're saying!"

"That guy behind the house is definitely a thief! Not the real homeowner!" He seemed to be possessed by a famous detective, starting to "deduce" with a strange confidence.

“That makes sense!” Damian pointed to the angel statue by the roadside behind him, his tone resolute. “This priceless work of art was stolen from the house by this thief beforehand, moved to the roadside, and was supposed to be transported away by truck to be sold later!”

"Right now, he's definitely still rummaging through the house looking for other valuables!" The more he spoke, the more confident he felt his reasoning was flawless, his face beaming with the smugness of discovering the truth.

"We must stop him! Find him!" Damian's sense of justice, or rather, his mischievousness, surged. He turned around abruptly, preparing to point at the angel statue again as key evidence for his reasoning—however, the moment he turned around, the smugness and excitement on his face froze!
Damian's mouth was half open, his expression frozen.

The words caught in his throat. All he could see was the angel statue that should have been standing quietly on the lawn a few meters behind them…

now!

They mysteriously appeared not far from them!
No, it's not just "not far"!
That statue!
It stood quietly on the sidewalk, less than three steps away from them! It was as if it had moved silently over on its own while they were focused on knocking and discussing.
The angel statue's white body emitted a faint glow under the dim streetlights.

The head that had been bowing seemed to have been raised a little bit more than before? The shadows between the fingers of the hands clasped in front of the chest also seemed to have deepened.

"How is this going!"

Jonathan and Jordan realized that what they had just experienced was not a memory illusion, but that the statue, which should have been an inanimate object, had actually changed its posture!
The statue can even move!

It was there, so close, silently "watching" the three boys who had met unexpectedly. Realizing something was wrong, even with Jordan's superhuman physique, he couldn't help but think of many horror movies, and a strange, indescribable chill, like a subtle electric current, instantly crept up the backs of the three.

"Hiss!" The streets were still silent in the dead of night, with only the rustling of the wind through the leaves and their own increasingly rapid heartbeats.

"We...we haven't encountered a ghost, have we?"

"Don't scare me, Jordan! Don't lean on me! You're the second Superman!"

"I'm the second-generation Superman... but... but I'm also afraid of ghosts! Ian said I don't have much magic resistance!"

Just as the three of them were stunned into a blank mind and their bodies stiffened as if frozen by the strange displacement of the statue, a rapid, hoarse male voice with a heavy smoky tone suddenly rang out from the other side of the street.

"Watch out! Don't move!"

The sound, like a thunderclap, instantly shattered the silence and forcibly pulled the three from their almost frozen thoughts. Almost instinctively, they jerked their heads toward the source of the sound!

Not far away, a man wearing a wrinkled beige trench coat, a crooked tie, and a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his mouth was frantically and carelessly vaulting over a low cast-iron railing. His face was filled with anxiety and a look of utter disbelief.

Constantine!

"Do you know what this is? I think I've seen Ian draw your sketchbook!" Although the three boys didn't know him, any outside intervention at this moment was like a lifeline.

however.

Just as their gaze shifted and focused on Constantine,

"Damn brats! Didn't I tell you not to move?!" Constantine's face turned deathly pale when he saw their movements, and he almost cursed them out.

His voice was filled with anger and panic!

His warning came too late! Or rather, from the moment the three teenagers were "watched" by the statue, certain rules had already been triggered.

Constantine's gaze merely shifted unconsciously for a moment!

In that instant when their eyes met and their attention was diverted!
The angel statue, which had been standing quietly behind the three boys and had its head slightly raised, underwent a terrifying and drastic change in posture!
It was no longer the serene figure of prayer or mourning; its entire body was like a ferocious beast awakened from its slumber, and it appeared as if it had teleported to the spot where the three people had originally been.

The hands that were clasped together in front of the chest suddenly separated, the arms stretched forward, the five fingers slightly spread, presenting an aggressive gesture as if about to touch or seize something!
As it raised its head and removed its hands from its face, Constantine saw in the dim light that the once exquisite and holy face was now grotesque! Its mouth was stretched into an inhuman arc, filled with countless sharp, shark-like fangs!
Where is even a trace of angelic love and compassion? It is clearly a monstrous demon from the abyss, devouring people at will!
As for the three teenagers—Jonathan, Jordan, and Damian—they vanished in an instant, as if they had been completely devoured by the demonic angel statue.

Only the statue, its posture drastically altered and its face contorted in horror, remained, along with the empty sidewalk in front of it. It was as if the three living boys had never existed there.

"No!"

Constantine let out a low growl that was almost one of fear, feeling a chill run from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, so much so that he didn't even notice the cigarette he was holding falling to the ground.

Cold sweat began to seep from his head.

This wasn't entirely due to guilt or anxiety about not being able to save the three children; it was more because I felt a pressure that made my very soul tremble.

boom! ! !
An indescribable, terrifying aura suddenly crashed down from the sky! The trees along the street swayed wildly, and dust and garbage were swirled into the air.

Even the ground seemed to be trembling slightly!
I saw.

Superman descended from the sky.

Angry and ferocious.

(End of this chapter)