American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 228 The Hero Wearing the Golden Fleece.

metropolis.
International Airport.

The bustling departure hall was filled with people, the sounds of announcements, suitcase wheels scraping against the floor, and conversations in various languages, all blending together to create a vibrant, everyday atmosphere.

Locke was dressed in an ordinary khaki work jacket and dark trousers, carrying a travel bag that looked a bit old.

Standing amidst the bustling crowd, he looked at Rong En beside him with a complicated expression. Rong En had also changed into a slightly tight gray suit, 'when in Rome, do as the Romans do'.

"so."

Locke couldn't help but facepalm and mutter in a low voice, "Since you, the Minister of Defense, are coming along too, why don't we just use your department's private jet? Wouldn't that be faster and quieter?"

He imagined sitting in a luxurious and secure cabin, instead of smelling the mixture of disinfectant and fast food here.

Ron maintained Swanwick's composed expression, calmly turning his head and replying in his flat tone:
“But you said before that you wanted to ‘measure things in the way ordinary people do’ and ‘experience airplane food.’”

He repeated what Locke had said in the kitchen, a hint of pure bewilderment in his eyes, "I thought it was part of the plan."

"Where did this part of the plan come from?"

Locke was taken aback, opened his mouth, and finally let out a helpless sigh: "That was just an excuse I made up so as not to reveal what we were actually going to do..."

"you"

"never mind."

Looking at Ron's serious face, Locke felt like he was talking to a brick wall.

Rong En shrugged and nodded understandingly.

Then he did something that made Locke's eyelids twitch.
He very naturally began to turn around, seemingly intending to leave the airport immediately to arrange his flight.

"Etc., etc!"

Locke quickly reached out to stop him, feeling his blood pressure rise slightly. "We're already here, so why not..."

"what happened?"

Looking back at Locke with a puzzled expression, Ron casually squatted down, opened the black backpack at his feet that clashed with his suit, and carefully pulled out a bag...

Oreo Cookies - Family Sharing Pack - Raspberry Matcha.

He tore open the packaging, took out a piece, twisted it open skillfully, first licked the red and green cream in the middle, and then bit off the black biscuit with a 'crunch'.

After completing this series of actions, Ron seemed to suddenly remember that there was someone else beside him, so he very naturally handed the bag of Oreos to Locke and asked in his signature calm voice:

"How about a bag of Oreos first? Would you like some, Locke?"

Locke: “…”

"Get lost! No decent person would eat raspberry matcha flavor!"

Locke tried to push him away in an annoyed manner.
But looking at Rong En's serious face, then at the bag of Oreos reflecting the airport lights, and then at the curious glances cast around at the hurried passersby...
—Is this person being racist?

That seems to be how the passengers viewed the two of them.

Resignedly accepting an Oreo, Locke twisted it open like Ron and mechanically licked the cream.

Hmm, it's half sour and half cool, which makes it a bit cloying.

The spacious and comfortable Boeing passenger plane flew smoothly at an altitude of 10,000 meters.

The first-class cabin was quiet, with soft lighting illuminating the beige leather seats.

Locke stretched and leaned back in the window seat he had bought with Ron’s 'Special Allowance for the Ministry of Defense', his gaze sweeping across the boundless sea of ​​clouds outside the window, which looked like a fluffy wool blanket in the sunlight.

My mood can only be described as very good.

After all, he hadn't taken a long vacation for many years.
"Hello, sir."

A gentle voice sounded from the side, and an elegant flight attendant was providing post-takeoff service with a sweet smile.

But when she walked to Locke's row, her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than usual.

Although the man was dressed as simply as a country farmer, he possessed an indescribable air of composure, and his gentle eyes held a sharpness born of experience.

Would you like something to drink?

Her voice was softer than usual.

Locke looked up and gave her a hearty smile:

"Do you have corn juice made in Kansas? I'm a little homesick."

"I'm sorry, sir, we don't have any corn juice on hand, let alone Kansas corn juice," the flight attendant said, her cheeks slightly flushed. "You see..."

"Just kidding, a glass of water will do, thank you."

Locke blinked, his tone relaxed.

"Ok."

Amused by the little joke, the flight attendant deftly poured water and handed it to him.

"Thank you." Locke took the water glass, his smile unchanged. "Perhaps next time I should bring my own pot and invite you to try the flavors of our farm."

His tone was natural, as if he were genuinely considering the suggestion.

The flight attendant couldn't help but laugh again, this time with a clearer laugh: "You're so funny."

Shrugging, Locke smiled and chatted with her for a bit more about flying and the interesting things about different places and cultures.

He was witty and knowledgeable, yet showed no signs of being pretentious, which made the flight attendant cover her mouth and laugh, her eyes full of affection.

She only left reluctantly, her steps light and quick.

As he watched the flight attendant leave, Locke still had a smile on his face. He turned his gaze away from the magnificent cloudscape outside the window and subconsciously turned his head, only to meet a pair of calm, unwavering eyes staring at him.

Rong En had taken off his sunglasses at some point and was staring intently at him.

"Ahem." Locke felt a flush rise to his face from the intense gaze and cleared his throat somewhat uncomfortably: "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Rong En's expression remained unchanged.

“I’m studying your humor,” he explained very seriously. “I’m observing your language patterns, micro-expressions, and tone of voice when you’re having a pleasant social interaction with that lady.”

“Locke, Kara is right, you are indeed a humorous and witty man.”

Locke: “…”

He felt black lines sliding down his forehead.

Immediately afterwards, as if to show off his 'learning results', Rong En strained his facial muscles and forced a 'smile'.

Then he said, slowly and deliberately:

"Locke, do you know why Kryptonians don't have to go to school?"

"Because they always 'stone' away their power in the 'Krypton' Hall."

"."

An invisible chill swept over Locke.

"Rong En, do you think the son of a multi-millionaire can become a billionaire?"

Locke opened his mouth.

“Yes, there are such cases,” Rong En said.

“No, because billionaires also have sons.” Locke shrugged.

"."

Rong En seemed to understand.

"Locke, do you know why elephants don't use computers?"

After hesitating for a moment, Locke asked, "Why?"

"Haha, because elephants are afraid of mice."

"..."

Locke paused for two seconds, then reached out and pressed the call button above his head without hesitation.

Soon, the flight attendant from before hurried over and leaned down with concern to ask:
"Sir, would you like a blanket?"

Locke took the soft blanket offered to him and quickly wrapped it tightly around himself from his shoulders to his waist, as if to ward off some kind of spiritual cold, before replying solemnly, "Thank you, after all..."

He paused, glancing meaningfully at Rong En, who was sitting upright beside him, "...It's a bit cold to have an ice block constantly radiating cold air sitting next to you."

Following his gaze, the flight attendant glanced at the expressionless Rong En. She was taken aback for a moment, then immediately understood. She couldn't help but smile again, gave Locke a knowing look, and then tactfully turned and left.

Ron looked at Locke, who was wrapped tightly in the blanket, tilted his head, and seemed to be taking notes seriously: "Is this also part of the humor?"

"Ha ha."

Locke pulled the blanket up higher and closed his eyes completely.

"I choose to sleep."

Locke slept quite soundly, and when he slowly opened his eyes...

The cabin was still brightly lit, and outside the window was still that seemingly unchanging, dazzling and vast sea of ​​clouds and blue sky.

He rubbed his sleepy eyes and subconsciously glanced to his side.

Rong En maintained his standard sitting posture, as if he hadn't moved an inch in the past dozen hours, and even the wrinkles on his suit seemed exactly the same as when he boarded the plane. His gaze was fixed straight ahead, like the most dutiful sentry in the cabin.

"Rong En, what time is it?"

Locke stretched.

"8:30."

Rong En answered instantly.

Upon hearing this, Locke was taken aback at first, and subconsciously wanted to say, "Why is it still morning?", but before he could say it, he remembered the time difference.
Metropolitan time is 7 hours behind Greece in the summer, plus the flight time is about 12 hours…

He did a quick mental calculation and realized that, according to the destination time, it should indeed be afternoon there.

Judging by the time, it’s almost time.

He adjusted his seat and focused more intently on looking out the window.

With his extraordinary eyesight, he could already see through the thin clouds and vaguely capture the outline of the city below, bathed in the afternoon sun, and the Aegean Sea in the distance, like a shattered sapphire embedded in the earth.

Speaking of which…

Putting aside the time he flew directly to Antarctica in search of Clark, this was truly the first time in Locke Kent's life that he had actually gone abroad.

A feeling of novelty mixed with a touch of emotion quietly emerged.

Just as Locke was sighing, Ron's calm and even voice broke the silence once more:

"Locke, do you know?"

"?"

Locke turned his head in confusion to look at his companion, who never initiated small talk.

“In fact, the location of Paradise Island is not fixed; it has been constantly changing,” Rong En stated. “Based on limited historical records and energy traces, it was once located deep in the Bermuda Triangle and also appeared twice in the Pacific Ocean.”

"Once it was near the coast of California, and another time it was near Papua New Guinea. But for now, based on some unknown gravitational anchor or magical contract, it is temporarily located at our destination, the Aegean Sea."

Locke nodded as he listened to this unexpected piece of trivia.

This explains some of his previous questions, such as why legends about Paradise Island always appear in different seas of different cultures.

But he chuckled slightly, looking at Rong En's still expressionless face, and couldn't help but ask, "So why are you suddenly explaining this kind of... well, interesting but seemingly not very useful geographical and historical knowledge?"

Ron turned his head, stared at Locke, and explained very seriously:

"Based on my observations of human social patterns, if two acquaintances remain silent for a long time during a shared journey, especially after one of them wakes up, they will be judged as 'estranged' or 'strangers' by other individuals around them."

“This would clash with the identity we’re pretending to be. I think we need to create some interactions that fit the criteria of ‘acquaintances.’ For example, sharing little-known facts.”

Locke: “…”

Looking at Rong En's serious analysis of social etiquette, the poetic and sentimental feelings that had just arisen from seeing the foreign scenery were instantly shattered by a sense of absurd reality.

He took a deep breath and decided to give up on further discussion on this topic.

"Okay, thank you for your thoughtful social assistance."

Locke shrugged, turned his gaze back to the window, and decided to focus on appreciating the ancient land that was getting closer and closer.

The plane is falling.

Accompanied by the somewhat noisy announcements in Greek and English at Athens International Airport.

Locke and Ron, carrying their two simple travel bags, slowly walked towards the cabin door with the flow of people.

Locke glanced at Ron, who was still impeccably dressed in a suit, and casually remarked:

"So, Mr. Defense Minister, what's the next step? Shall we find a place to settle down, or...?"

“Don’t worry.” Rong En looked ahead and replied, “I’ve contacted our local… ‘partners’ in advance. They will take care of our transportation and accommodation during this period.”

"By the way, I also specifically instructed them to be more 'down-to-earth' in their actions to avoid unnecessary attention."

Locke nodded with satisfaction upon hearing this.

He felt that Ron had finally made some progress in 'integrating into ordinary human society'.

just
This sense of relief froze completely the moment he stepped out of the cabin.

The first thing that catches the eye is an enormous white banner.

It was held high by two long poles that appeared out of nowhere, hanging directly above the exit of the covered bridge.

The banner bore two large English words written in crooked handwriting—

"Rock and J'Onn"

Locke: “…”

He paused in his steps.

His gaze then moved downwards, and he saw a figure beneath the banner that looked as if it had stepped out of an ancient Greek pottery painting.
A muscular man nearly two meters tall.

He wore a bronze helmet decorated with curved ram's horns, a shimmering gold cloak over a set of polished bronze breastplates and a battle skirt, and even sandal-like bronze greaves!

It stands out completely from the surrounding modern airport environment.
But it was precisely behind this seemingly lost ancient Greek hero.
Yet there were still two neat rows of people, each numbering at least twenty or thirty.

They were all dressed in tight black suits and sunglasses; each of them was burly and had a grim expression.

The passengers who were originally passing through normally had already been politely but firmly diverted to both sides by airport ground staff and security personnel. Many people were holding up their phones, frantically taking pictures of this visually striking scene, and there was a constant stream of discussion and exclamations.

Locke was silent for a moment, then slowly turned his head to look at Ron, who was still silent beside him, and asked in as calm a tone as possible:
"Is this what you mean by 'being simple'?"

He took a deep breath and pointed at the banner and the group of people: "Tell me honestly, Ron, did you directly apply to the Greek government for a diplomatic and military visit using Calvin's identity?"

Rong En looked at the scene before him, seemingly unable to comprehend it either. He was about to speak when he heard...
"J'Onn!"

The ancient Greek hero had already noticed them and was striding towards them with a heroic grin, his golden cloak fluttering in the wind…

However, Rong En seized this brief moment and turned slightly to the side.

Turn on squad voice chat:

"Aristides Demetrios, a member of the United Nations Global Guardians organization, codenamed 'Olympia'."

"He was covered by the legendary Golden Fleece, which not only endowed him with an extraordinary physique but also allowed him to inherit the extraordinary abilities of legendary heroes."

"He greatly admired the spirit of ancient Greek warriors and was very happy to accept praise that matched his heroic status."

Locke's eyes flickered slightly as he quickly memorized the key information transmitted through telepathy, then he sized up the burly man before him.
With that physique, she would definitely be a great farmer on her own farm.
Thinking this, a hint of appreciation naturally appeared on Locke's face.

At the same time
The burly man draped in the Golden Fleece strode forward, and with a familiar air, he patted Rong En's shoulder forcefully: "Ha! My friend! You've finally arrived!"

His English wasn't fluent and had a heavy Greek accent.

But the voice was loud and clear, full of pride.

"Who is this"

But when his gaze turned to Locke, his voice suddenly stopped, and his eyes widened slightly, revealing undisguised amazement.

"By Zeus!"

He couldn't help but exclaim in disbelief, "My friend, was your body blessed by Aphrodite, or was it forged by Hephaestus himself?"

"Such a perfect physique, I've only ever seen it on statues on Mount Olympus!"

As he spoke, he solemnly extended his hand to Locke, "It's a pleasure to meet you, friend. I am Aristides Demetrius."

"My friends all call me Ali."

Rong En nodded slightly, thus introducing the two parties:

"Ali, this is my colleague and friend, Mr. Locke Kent. Locke, this is Aristides Demetrius, the guardian of Greece, a modern hero worthy of epic praise."

Locke calmly extended his hand and firmly grasped the other person's hand.

He could sense that the other person was deliberately controlling their strength, but the steady grip still far surpassed that of ordinary people.

Since the other party had shown goodwill, Locke smiled naturally, his gaze appreciatively sweeping over Ali's gleaming armor and the legendary Golden Fleece, his tone carrying just the right amount of admiration:
“Mr. Ali, this outfit is truly unforgettable. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would have almost thought I had traveled to the battlefield of Troy and was standing in front of Achilles.”

Upon hearing this, Ali's face lit up with a smile. He shook Locke's hand vigorously, clearly pleased with the perfectly timed praise.

"Haha! Mr. Locke, you possess not only the physique of a hero, but also the vision of a sage! Welcome to Greece, a land where even the air is filled with mythology!"

He warmly put his arms around Locke and Ron's shoulders, then turned and waved to the group of burly men in black suits behind him, signaling them to follow.

"Come on, my friends! The carriage is ready! Let me show you the real Greece!"

"It's not just about blue skies and seas, but also about the passion and legends flowing in our blood!"

His booming voice echoed through the airport jet bridge, attracting more passengers to stop and watch. The flashes of mobile phone cameras went off one after another, forever capturing this epic scene.
-
PS:

Aristides Demetrius.

Using the pseudonym Olympian, he is a Greek hero affiliated with the United Nations' Global Guardians organization.

He was draped in the mysterious Golden Fleece, a sacred relic that not only granted him Hercules-like divine power but also bestowed upon him various extraordinary abilities associated with the heroes of the Argonauts.

Note: In addition to granting superpowers, the Golden Fleece also endowed the Olympians with various Olympic-level skills from the Argonauts, such as archery, boxing, horsemanship, and medicine.

However, the prolonged use of the Golden Fleece had a negative impact on the Olympian's psychology. Through it, he was influenced by the personality of ancient warriors and inherited their penchant for boasting.

First appeared in 1982 – DC Comics Selection #46
(End of this chapter)