American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 205 Humorous Martian.

The smoke from the expo had not completely dissipated, and the pungent smell of gunpowder mixed with the acrid smell of molten metal filled the air.

The sounds of sirens, the shouts of rescue workers, and the clamor of the crowd blended together.

Louise, on the other hand, is like a fixed anchor thrown into a raging torrent, firmly rooted in the center of the chaos.

She rolled up her shirt sleeves to her elbows, her face smeared with what looked like sweat or cigarette ash, and quickly weaved through the still-shaken crowd, her recording pen almost touching the interviewee's mouth.

"Could you describe that golden-red figure again? What kind of person do you think he was?"

How would you evaluate him?

"What would you think if he replaced the aging Justice Society members to protect us?"

She speaks very quickly and asks precise questions, while also using the professional camera hanging around her neck to capture every noteworthy detail of the scene.

For example, the melted steel frame, the charred impact crater on the ground, and Raz, who was surrounded by special police and unconscious in the distance.

Not long after, she found a relatively quiet corner, leaned against a food cart overturned by the shockwave, took out her notebook, and the pencil moved quickly across the paper, making a soft rustling sound.

[Exclusive Coverage: A 'Destroyer' Appears at the Expo, a 'Mysterious Flyer' Saves the Day!]

The information collected on-site was then quickly compiled into a document.

Raz's destruction, the panic of the crowd, the golden-red figure that appeared like a god descending to earth at the crucial moment, and the thrilling aerial battle and the final decisive blow that followed.

The words are concise yet powerful.

But as she wrote, her pen gradually slowed down.

Her delicate brows furrowed slightly, revealing a look of dissatisfaction.

"Mysterious Flyer"

She murmured the temporary code name, then shook her head. "Too ordinary, not powerful enough, not worthy of him."

"And there's nothing gimmicky about it."

As she pondered, Louise's gaze involuntarily drifted to the last captured backlit silhouette on the camera screen.

A flowing red cape, an upright posture, and…

The most striking symbol in the very center of his chest, seemingly imbued with some kind of power.

S.

That simple, elegant letter, whose meaning I don't know.

Unconsciously, he traced the S-shaped curve on the screen with a pencil.

Louise's eyes gradually brightened, and a thought flashed through her mind.

“S…”

She murmured to herself.
"Does it symbolize salvation? Or..."

"Does it symbolize some kind of superpower?"

The more she thought about it, the more she felt that the letter perfectly matched the ability that guy had demonstrated and the feeling it gave off.

He transcended the limits of ordinary people, as if he came from a higher level.

Since that's the case...
Then a word naturally came to mind.

"Superman!"

Yes, this is it!

She immediately pulled out her notebook and crossed out "mysterious flyer" from the title without hesitation.

[Exclusive Coverage: A "Destroyer" Appears at the Expo, "Superman" Saves the Day!]

Looking at the new title, she nodded in satisfaction.

The name is concise and catchy.

It also perfectly complements the logo on his chest.

She had a premonition that this name, along with everything that had happened today, would spread throughout the metropolis and even further afield at a speed far beyond her imagination.

I casually took a photo with my phone and submitted this first draft, which was destined to cause a sensation, to the editorial department of Planet Daily.

Louise breathed a sigh of relief the moment she pressed the send button.

If Planet Daily can publish her articles directly, what's the point of the school's science and technology journalism awards?
A college student who can publish an exclusive report in Planet Daily at the age of twenty has the qualifications to knock on the door of any top media outlet in the future.

"Superman."

Louise's lips curved into a slight smile as she chuckled:
"Whoever you are, thank you so much."

at the same time.

The hustle and bustle of the expo site was completely isolated at a certain height.

The cold, metallic surface of the technological dome reflected the chaotic light spots from the still-unresolved city below.

A more austere figure stood at the highest point of the dome, almost blending into the futuristic building below.

He was covered in matte gray streamlined steel armor, with intricate hydraulic structures at the joints, and his face was covered by an emotionless mask.

"...Boss, I'm a step too late."

His voice, processed and transmitted through an encrypted line, read, "Target Raze has been defeated, chest armor completely destroyed, experimental data... cannot be recovered."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, followed by a cold, specially processed voice.

“An expected variable. Insignificant.” The voice was completely flat, as if what had been lost was not an important experimental data point, but a worthless piece of paper. “Come back immediately, Mr. Albert, before you have a seizure.”

“We have more urgent matters to attend to now.”

"clear."

The call ended abruptly.

As for the man known as Albert, he stood atop the dome.

The eyes burning with purple flames beneath the visor swept across the gradually brought under control expo site below, focusing on the area marked as Raze's crash site.

Finally, his massive steel body slightly adjusted its direction.

Laser beams shot out from his hands, propelling him into the sky where he disappeared.
-
The setting sun bathed the barn at Kent Farm in a warm orange-red hue.

Locke had just changed Dante and Virgil's diapers in the crib. The two little ones clenched their chubby little fists and babbled as they fought off the overwhelming sleepiness, like two young animals unwilling to return to their nest.

"Go to sleep!" Locke ordered.

“Waaah!” Dante wailed.

Virgil had his eyes tightly shut and was trying to sleep, but Dante's wailing annoyed him so much that he slapped him.

The crying stopped suddenly.

Dante was actually put to sleep by that slap?!

Forget it
Locke breathed a sigh of relief; it was good that he could fall asleep.

After all, these two little devils have really been getting more and more troublesome lately.
"Ok?"

Suddenly, Locke paused slightly, as if he had sensed something.

The next moment, the air around him began to distort slightly, and fine silver arcs of electricity appeared like swimming fish. His figure blurred suddenly in the lightning and disappeared from the bedroom in an instant.

In the center of the sparse woodland on the edge of the farm, beams of electricity converged, and Locke's figure solidified once more.

Almost at the same time he appeared, the shadow of an oak tree next to him seemed to move as if it were alive, outlining a bald man with a khaki trench coat, a thin figure, and a resolute face.

“Locke,” the man nodded.

“Seriously,” Locke said, crossing his arms and looking the other person up and down, “do you change your look every time you come here? This bald look makes you look like a secret agent who just escaped from a sci-fi movie set.”

"Really?" The man touched his smooth head shyly. "I just visited a laboratory, and I think this image fits their aesthetic standards quite well."

As he spoke, the man's body began to twist, revealing the familiar black appearance that Locke knew.

— Calvin Swanwick.

“Much better looking.” Locke nodded in response, then cut to the chase, “What matter requires you to come all this way in person, and so…secretly?”

Ron didn't answer immediately, but instead looked at Locke meaningfully.

Locke understood, raised his hand and grasped it, and the long sword that exuded a profound aura appeared in his hand.

He casually made a horizontal sweep across the air beside him.

"His!"

A narrow crack with shimmering starlight appeared out of nowhere, revealing the interior of Merlin, or rather, the Kent Museum, on the other side.

"Let's go inside and talk."

Locke stepped in first.

Ron followed closely behind, and the rift silently closed behind them.

“This place is quite nice.” Rong En surveyed the surrounding weathered stone pillars. “Perfect as a secret base. Should we consider installing a vending machine? I know a supplier.”

"What are you talking about?" Locke sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Don't treat this place like one of your safe houses."

"I was just kidding." Seeing that it worked well, Rong En's lips curled up slightly. "It's said that humor can ease tension."

"."

"Ron, have you been possessed by something unclean lately?" Locke asked, puzzled. "Where do you get so much of a sense of humor?"

"Really?" Martian Manhunter touched his face, his expression returning to its usual calm. "I thought you'd like American humor. As a friend, I feel obligated to adapt to your tastes."

“No need, Ron, just be yourself.” “And how did you come up with all this?” Locke asked, puzzled.

"Someone criticized me the other day for not being a good fit, so on Mr. Scott's recommendation, I watched three whole seasons of Friends to learn American humor. But it seems you don't really like it?"

Where's the humor?

Locke was about to complain when he saw Ron suddenly pull out a beautifully designed portable terminal from the inside pocket of his trench coat. His finger slid rapidly across the screen, projecting a beam of pale blue light into the air, creating a clear projection.

The background of the video is a live feed of the entrance plaza to the Tomorrow Expo, with bustling crowds moving about in the spring sunshine.

"The Tomorrow Expo?" Locke raised an eyebrow, his tone knowing. "You came all this way just so I could see this? I know Clark took the gods there."

Rong En didn't explain, but simply gestured for him to continue watching.

But in the very next second, the tranquility of the scene was abruptly shattered!
A figure wearing a golden breastplate floated up, radiating laser beams.

"?"

Locke had a guess in his mind, and his eyes sharpened.

as expected
A golden-red figure slammed into Raz at an astonishing speed, and then engaged in a fierce battle with the crazed Raz in mid-air.

The figure wore an unfamiliar gold and red battle suit with a prominent S symbol on the chest. Although the fighting style was still somewhat immature, it was full of power, especially the signature heat vision...

“This is…” Locke leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowed. “Clark?”

"boom--!"

The final frame of the scene shows Clark punching through the golden breastplate, shattering it instantly.

Rong En turned off the projector, and the museum returned to silence.

He turned to Locke, nodded, and his voice remained steady:

“Mr. Kent. He did a very good job.”

“Yes,” he added, “like a newly sprouted sunflower seed.”

“Ron.” Locke sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I beg you to stop studying Earthling metaphors.”

"But."

“I’ve really watched a lot of sitcoms.” Ron seemed eager to continue reporting on his learning, “Yesterday I told a criminal, ‘You have the right to remain silent, but you don’t have the right to make me laugh,’ and then I waited for him to laugh for a full two minutes.”

Did he smile?

“He wet his pants,” Ron said calmly. “But I think it’s a normal physiological reaction.”

"What exactly are you studying?"

Locke couldn't help but chuckle: "Human humor isn't something you can master by just memorizing lines."

“I understand,” Ron nodded. “So I’ve prepared an original joke: Do you know why I don’t go to parties much?”

"why?"

"Because I'll destroy all the potato chips into Martian chips."

As soon as he finished speaking, Ron looked at Locke expectantly.

An awkward silence began to fill the air.

"How was it?" Seeing that Locke didn't smile, Ron asked in confusion, "I even studied the puns."

Locke took a deep breath and patted him on the shoulder: "Promise me that next time you see Clark and Dio, you won't share your learning achievements with them."

"Why? Don't young people prefer humorous elders?"

"Because he's flying in the sky wearing a bodysuit," Locke said helplessly. "It's embarrassing enough already."

"Hahaha"

Ron laughed, then seemed thoughtful: "So you mean my jokes are just as uncomfortable as the bodysuit?"

“No,” Locke said sincerely, “it’s worse than that.”

"Really? Then you think I should watch it?"

Seeing that Ron still wanted to ask more questions, Locke quickly raised his hand and made a 'stop' gesture to prevent Ron from continuing to delve into his disastrous sense of humor.

"Stop, Ron, the seminar on jokes is now over."

He quickly took out his phone, found Shen Du's number, and dialed it.

The call was answered quickly, though there was some background noise.

Seemingly anticipating the purpose of this call, God simply handed the phone to Clark.

"Hello, Uncle?"

The young man's familiar voice came through, carrying an undisguised unease and anxiety.

"Clark," Locke's voice came through the receiver, steady and gentle, "I saw it."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, followed only by Clark's slightly rapid breathing, as if he were awaiting judgment.

“You did a great job,” Locke said with a smile, his tone as gentle as a warm breeze. “You protected those who were in danger and made the right choice.”

"And you've taken on the responsibility that comes with this choice. That's something to be proud of, child."

"Really? Uncle?"

Clark's voice instantly came alive, the unease replaced by immense surprise and relief.

Locke could almost picture him scratching his head on the other end of the phone, looking a little embarrassed but unable to suppress a grin, just like when he first successfully repaired a tractor as a child.

"of course."

He then gave a few more simple affirmations.

He told the two to be careful and to take Shendu back to the hotel to rest as soon as possible, then simply hung up the phone.

Then, he preemptively raised his hand, his expression suddenly turning serious, forcefully pulling the conversation back on track from its near-deviation:
"Alright, Rong En, let's get down to business."

He looked intently at Martian Hunter. "You came all this way today, and in such a mysterious way, it can't be just to let me see my nephew wearing... um... that outfit for a public performance, right?"

Rong En nodded, the lines on his dark face tightening again, regaining the seriousness befitting a Minister of National Defense.

Instead of answering directly, he started operating the portable terminal again.

This time, instead of a single video image, a slowly rotating map was projected.

Gotham, Star City, Central City, Metropolis, etc.
They were all marked with a striking dark red area.

“Look at these, Locke.”

Rong En's voice lowered as he pointed to the dark red areas, "In the past 72 hours, multiple major metropolitan areas around the world have almost simultaneously experienced an outbreak of..."

"Something we'll call a 'two-faced virus' for now."

As he spoke, several small monitoring windows popped up next to the map.

The image shows a chaotic scene on a city street:

It's raining in this city.

A well-dressed bank employee suddenly stopped and made a phone call with a blank expression.

His extremely calm, almost mechanical voice came through the wiretap as he and his accomplices calculated the best route and success rate for robbing the armored truck.

But the next second.
This calm analyst suddenly flew into a rage, overturning a roadside hot dog stand, splattering ketchup and mustard all over the ground. Then, like a hungry tiger pouncing on its prey, he lunged into the mud and began to devour the hot dogs scattered on the ground.

After finishing everything, he stood up blankly and continued making the call, completely unconcerned about his disheveled appearance.

Locke blinked.

“Isn’t this just typical Gotham daytime?” Ron preemptively uttered the joke Locke was about to blurt out, then sighed, “But Locke…”

He switched between different screens.

Arrived in the city center.

The young people, who had initially been arguing, suddenly found themselves in two states of extreme tension. One side became completely calm, calculating how to inflict maximum casualties with minimal losses, while the other side, with bloodshot eyes, began indiscriminately attacking everything around them like wild beasts…

"These patients exhibit extreme and rapidly switching dual personality states."

Rong En pointed to the images, his tone grave.

"On one hand, there is an almost inhuman, cold, logical way of thinking, extremely efficient and devoid of emotion; on the other hand, there is indiscriminate rage and destruction, filled with destructive impulses, and physiological indicators are abnormally high..."

"The most difficult thing is..."

The Mars hunter sighed, with a hint of helplessness, "We used all the most advanced equipment to test the air, water, food chain, and even the microscopic particle environment..."

"No known or unknown physical pathogens, viruses, bacteria, or chemical inducers were found."

He turned off the projector, looked at Locke, his gaze extremely heavy:

“We even think that this might not be a virus at all…”

"It is a kind of psychological implantation. A man-made, psychological epidemic spread through some unknown medium."

Locke was silent for a moment, then said, "Ron."

"You might as well just tell me who you suspect."
"."

"Luther Group".

He finally uttered a name, his voice soft, yet it sounded particularly heavy under Locke's increasingly somber gaze:

“Your friend, Lionel Luther.”

(End of this chapter)