What's wrong with Superman's brother wanting to be Homelander?

Chapter 97 Batman, Aquaman, and the Justice Plane

"I've reminded Lana several times that Lex isn't as simple as he seems, but she doesn't seem to listen at all."

Clark plopped down, muttering to himself with a sullen expression.

For young people who think they're head over heels in love, nothing is more frustrating than the woman they like ignoring their opinions and insisting on getting closer to another dangerous man.

"Perhaps this is precisely the difference between you two."

Lucas said dismissively.

What's the big deal about casually getting to know someone? They'll be married in the future.

"What?"

Clark frowned and looked at his older brother.

"It's simple, Lana can experience feelings from Lex that you can't give her."

Lucas leaned against the headboard and turned to the last page of Nietzsche's autobiography.

The text above reads:

The greatest evil belongs to the highest creative good; to reshape value, one must first become a destroyer.

Clark scratched the back of his head, his face showing even more confusion.

"You have secrets that you can't tell anyone, and you're not good at hiding your emotions."

But Lex is different. You should know very well that he can perfectly disguise himself; everyone thinks he's a refined gentleman. Including you before.

Clark lowered his head: "I can't lie to Lana, but I don't know if I should tell her my secret."

"If that's what you think, I think it's better not to tell."

"When you feel comfortable telling your secrets to someone of the opposite sex without any reservations, that means you're likely to become a couple."

Clark paused for two seconds, then suddenly blushed and said, "Lucas, it seems like you've never been in a relationship, or even had a girl you liked, but what you're saying makes so much sense!"

He once again deeply felt the gap between himself and his older brother.

If I had my brother's emotional intelligence, perhaps my relationship with Lana would have already crossed that final line—we could call each other lovers.

Lucas remained silent.

I placed the book on the bedside table, closed my eyes to rest, and prepared to drift off to sleep.

A lot happened tonight, I need to relax my mind.

The next day.

Holiday.

As the rising sun slowly climbed over the low hills in the distance, golden morning light spilled onto the wooden barn walls, and the scent of damp earth wafted around the farm.

Instead of exercising, Lucas was assigned by Ms. Martha to pick up cow dung.

Clark, naturally, was not spared either.

As for Rachel, she was helping Martha clean the house.

In recent years, thanks to Lucas's behind-the-scenes intervention, the Kent family has long since been freed from the heavy financial burden of having to repay loans every quarter.

:

:

To increase the farm's economic benefits, the Kents purchased dozens of dairy cows a few months ago.

This greatly increased the farm's cow manure production.

The early morning is the main cleaning period.

In rural Kansas, cow dung is an absolute treasure.

Fermenting and composting mixed hay and straw can create highly nutritious natural feed, which is perfect for watering corn, vegetables, and fruits.

Kent Farm's recently popular organic produce is entirely due to the use of its own manure to nourish the soil.

In addition, dried cow dung cakes can also be used as firewood for heating in autumn and winter and for burning in stoves, achieving three benefits in one go.

Clark stood in a corner, holding an iron rake, gathering the cow dung together.

Jonathan saw this as a good opportunity to hone his character, so he specifically reminded him not to use his superpowers.

Despite his reluctance, Clark followed the advice.

"Kids, Dad and I are going to the city and won't be back until tomorrow. The pizza is in the fridge; you can heat it up if you get hungry."

Martha changed into a long purple jumpsuit and walked side by side with Jonathan toward the old-fashioned pickup truck that had been with the Kent family for over ten years.

"Don't worry, Mom, we're not children. Even if we're hungry, we can hold out until you get back."

Lucas shrugged.

Martha smiled and rolled her eyes at her eldest son, wanting to say something, but Jonathan grabbed her and said, "Alright, the kids are all grown up and can support themselves. We just need to remind them on a big level so they don't go astray."

Excessive concern can sometimes be a form of constraint.

"Bro, what do you think Mom and Dad are going to do? Why are they being so secretive?"

Clark removed the thickened rubber gloves, looking puzzled.

"Today is my parents' wedding anniversary. Obviously, they went on a romantic getaway."

Clark scratched his head. "But I don't know when my parents got married."

"Actually, I don't know either." Lucas waved his hand. "But if you look at the calendar, it's actually highlighted there."

"Shouldn't we prepare a small gift for Mom and Dad? After all, it's their anniversary!" Rachel couldn't help but say.

At this moment, Clark took out the living room wall calendar: "It really does have markings! So what gift should we prepare?"

Rachel rested her chin on her hand, deep in thought: "Flowers are a must, and how about making a greeting card by hand as well?"

"But Mom and Dad have already left. Should we wait for them to come back and surprise them?"

Night fell over Gotham.

After a gloomy day, the drizzling rain finally began to fall.

As we all know, those who stay on the rooftop are either ordinary people, ordinary people who want to jump, heroes, or heroes who want to jump.

Of course, they could also be men in black trying to travel through time or assassins leaping out of faith.

:

:

But in Gotham, it can only be Batman.

"Bats once terrified me; now it's time for my enemies to experience that same fear."

A cool breeze was blowing on the top of Gotham Towers.

Bruce put on the custom-made bat helmet, which revealed his chin, with a serious expression, and looked firmly at the neon lights in the distance.

This moment.

He felt that he was the real Batman.

The sense of security provided by a helmet made of carbon fiber and hard synthetic graphite is far superior to that of a few pieces of black cloth.

If he were to be surrounded again, he was confident he wouldn't end up with a black eye and swollen face like the first time.

Of course, he still listened to Ah Fu's advice and stopped focusing solely on fighting the Penguin Gang.

But ordinary small gangs are not enough to instill fear of the bats in Gotham.

Therefore, Bruce ultimately changed the target of his second operation to Falcone, who had already retreated to the background.

The other party has spent decades painstakingly building up the current gangster landscape in Gotham.

Therefore, as Batman's claim to fame, the opponent is undoubtedly the most suitable choice besides the Penguin Gang.

After all, even though McCann is getting old, the significance of the title "Godfather" will not fade with time.

.

Gotham West Cargo Terminal.

Under the written agreement between McCann and Oswald, this area remains under the control of the Falcone family and is one of the few stable sources of income for the Falcone Mafia.

As night fell, the sea was pitch black.

It's like a boundless abyss, mercilessly swallowing every life that strays into it.

The dense raindrops pattered against it, making a continuous rustling sound.

"Waaah————"

At that moment, a deep, resonant ship horn swept across the sea, and a ferry bearing the Falcone family crest slowly approached the dock.

On the dock, a waiter held up a black umbrella, under which Falcone was directing his men to move the cargo containers that had been stockpiled there and needed to be smuggled out.

Today is different from the past.

In the past, McCann would not have needed to do this kind of thing himself.

But now the Mafia is declining, its members are running out of talent, and it can't compare to the Penguin Gang, which is at its peak. This is where the importance of this dock comes into play.

At the same time, a dark figure silently climbed up the steel frame of the container.

Using the height difference, Batman threw out several batarangs that had been specially blunted.

"Whoosh whoosh whoosh!"

"Ding ding ding".

Before Falcone's men, who were guarding the perimeter, could even realize what was happening, they immediately fainted.

Falcone, a cigar dangling from his lips, addressed the corrupt cop, Frass, beside him: "Is everything arranged? I don't want anything to go wrong tonight. This shipment is very important to me."

Frass chuckled, "Mr. Falcone, the patrolmen tonight have been taken care of; no one will come to bother us."

No sooner had he finished speaking than several muffled thuds came from outside the warehouse.

Dressed impeccably, Bruce strode into the center of the warehouse. Falcone gripped his cigar tightly, his eyes narrowing. "Who are you? How dare you trespass on my territory?"

Batman stood at the boundary between shadows, deliberately lowering his voice, and said, word by word, "I am Batman."

"Batman?"

McCann frowned.

I don't understand what's wrong with Gotham lately. First, some guy called the Joker suddenly appeared, saying that smiling is contagious, and now this lunatic who calls himself Batman has jumped out.

Batman?

He's also Owlman!

He's probably another mentally ill person who escaped from Arkham Asylum.

Falcone's face darkened, a sneer of arrogance creeping onto his lips. He raised his hand and gestured calmly to the group of thugs around him: "Listen, cripple him."

Upon hearing this, a group of armed bodyguards rushed forward and immediately opened fire.

A burst of gunfire erupted, and the blue and white flashes of gunfire instantly illuminated the area.

Bullets slammed into the walls and metal sheets, sending up sparks and debris, and the sound of spent cartridge cases clattering and rolling everywhere filled the air.

Using his powerful leaps and the metal box, Bruce dodged a large number of bullets, and even the few that hit him were blocked by his carbon fiber armor.

However, the piercing sensation was not blocked out.

It's like being hit by a blank bullet; it's harmless, but it still hurts.

Bruce made up his mind that he must upgrade and modify the Bat Armor as soon as possible after returning.

"Batman, weren't you so tough? What are you hiding for?"

McCann shouted.

Sensing the firepower waning, Bruce immediately launched a counterattack.

Bat-shaped darts shot precisely from the gaps in the tin box, knocking all the pistols to the ground.

Then, he leaped up and pounced on them, taking down everyone in quick succession.

Compared to the top-notch bodyguards carefully selected by Oswald, McCann's entourage was clearly lacking.

soon.

McCann was left all alone.

McCann panicked and instinctively reached for his shotgun at his waist.

Bruce strode forward, grabbed his wrist holding the gun, and then slammed his head into Falcone's face. Falcone's vision went black, and he collapsed unconscious to the ground.

Immediately afterwards, Batman carried the unconscious Falcone to the giant flood control searchlight on the shore.

They tied Falcone tightly with thick ropes, binding him firmly in front of the searchlight head, and spread his long overcoat to block the light source.

The searchlight beam pierced through the gaps in the fabric, casting a huge, menacing bat-like shadow across the entire cloud layer, making the dock and the distant city clearly visible.

After silently counting the time, Bruce placed the paper evidence of Falcone's drug trafficking and bribery of officials on the base of the searchlight, then turned and left.

Soon, the piercing sirens of the police blared.

Jim Gordon drove to the dock, only to find Falcone tied up.

Gordon strode to the searchlight, looked up at the lingering bat-like shadows in the sky, then at the slowly waking McCann Falcone: "Be honest, you're finished."

In his second operation, Bruce successfully brought his bat phobia to Gotham.

That is today.

At the Meen Harbor Lighthouse in Maine.

An eight- or nine-year-old child is beginning to show a talent for communicating with marine life.

The child's name was Arthur Curry.

At the very moment that Falcone was completely subdued by the police and put into a police car, a luxury private jet was steadily descending and slowly approaching the city's airspace from the edge of the clouds above Gotham.

Although his headquarters were looted and even his personal British patrol ship was stolen, Hawkman still possessed wealth and resources accumulated over five thousand years, making him incredibly rich.

Private jets are as common as sports cars owned by wealthy people.

Inside the cabin, Hawkman sat upright in his seat, his gaze fixed on Gotham City shrouded in night below, peering through the porthole.

"Mr. Hall, this doesn't seem to be Kansas. I checked the weather forecast before I came, and it said there would be no rain in the metropolitan area tonight."

The Atom Crusher scratched his head, looking out the window at the raindrops that were steadily falling.

Upon hearing this, Hawkman didn't even turn his head, and said in a flat tone, "Albert, don't you know? Weather forecasts are meant to be used for reference only."

"9

"By the way, where did Mr. Nelson go? Why didn't he come with us?"

The whirlwind girl added a sentence.

"He has something to do—" Hawkman explained simply, his expression somewhat silent.

Lately, my old friend has been acting increasingly strangely, and it's obvious that he's hiding something from me.

This made him somewhat worried, wondering if the other party had gleaned something bad from the Helmet of Fate.

"Everyone, sit tight, we're about to land," Eagle Girl's voice rang out.

soon.

The private small plane landed steadily on a wide-open abandoned motorcycle runway.

Several people got off the plane.

"I feel that this place is completely different from the metropolis I imagined."

The Atom Crusher looked around with a strange expression: "Anyway, something feels off. Isn't Metropolis supposed to be the city of tomorrow? Why is it full of architecture from the last century?"

Meanwhile, Bruce had just finished his operation at the dock, got into the Batmobile, and was preparing to return to the Batcave.

Suddenly, the calm voice of Butler came through the car communicator.

"Young master, satellite radar has detected an unregistered private plane of unknown origin that has just landed on an abandoned helipad on the outskirts of the city."

The location is less than seven miles from your current coordinates. Should you go and investigate?

Batman replied without hesitation, "Of course, this is my territory. Alfred, sync the coordinates to the navigation system, I'm coming right now."