Clark Is Taken
"I understand."
Having recovered some strength, Clark's expression was tinged with a hint of melancholy as he took two deep breaths.
He could somewhat guess why his brother hadn't told him.
It was probably because he wanted to show it off when he was confident he could stop him from doing something, making him fall to the ground in a sorry state, worse than an eighty-year-old grandpa, and be utterly humiliated.
However, perhaps his brother was also afraid he would change drastically if he encountered Red Meteorite again, and wanted to keep a trump card to control him?
"I'll be careful."
No matter what, Clark didn't want to think about it anymore, because he had also hidden his super hearing from his brother.
Seeing him nod in acknowledgment, the probability of an unexpected failure should be greatly reduced.
David turned and went downstairs, preparing to go to bed.
In truth, he felt Clark had one more major weakness, which made Kryptonite seem insignificant, but he doubted Clark would avoid it even if he told him.
...
Back at his long-unseen home.
David decided to rest at home for a few days.
He had spent a lot of energy attacking Themyscira near the North Sea and fighting Ares, God of War.
Especially over the next month, he would be supervising the Amazons in practicing their dance routines to cultivate the habit of dancing.
"Watching them dance is definitely not an enjoyment, let alone a rest."
As for Clark, he still had work to do, whether it was his part as Chloe's reporter assistant, or his part as Superman.
"Superman..."
Thinking of the nickname given to him by Chloe's cousin, the famous reporter Lois Lane, he couldn't help but think of Lana.
In Chloe's rented apartment, Clark was leaning over the desk by the window, helping to sort out interview audio recordings. He looked up at the distance, his eyes filled with a trace of memory.
He remembered how he had once been embarrassed in front of Lana because of a meteor necklace. Lana had helped him pick up his Nietzsche, and asked him if he was an ordinary person or Superman.
"I never thought I would become Superman now..."
Clark didn't reject the title; it seemed to have a strange connection with him.
He wondered if that rumored beautiful and generous female reporter had simply thought he was a super-human and given him that title, or if it was because of Nietzsche's theory of the Übermensch.
"Superman is a leader among the human race, an absolute spiritual strongman, one who transcends himself, Superman is the standard of truth and morality, the creator of norms and values..."
He murmured softly, feeling a heavy sense of responsibility upon him.
He didn't know if he could live up to the title of Superman and not disappoint the people who had given him that title and saw him as their hope.
Suddenly, Clark's ears twitched, and he frowned.
In the prison on the other side of the city.
"This city has failed me!
Those damned guys, daring to throw their Mr. Metropolis into prison.
Just because I'm involved in crime, murder, drug trafficking, and bribing officials?!
Don't they see the large sums of money I've thrown around? Do they know how much energy and money I spend on charity every year!"
Inside the prison, Glenmorgan was no longer as composed as before. He lowered his hoarse voice and spoke to the person on the other side who was visiting, like a king cobra about to strike, his voice full of unwillingness and venom.
"I will make this city know the price of betraying me, and I will make them taste a hundred times more pain than I have!"
"Is the plan ready, Olson?"
"Anytime, sir. At seven o'clock, the train will arrive on time."
"Good, when I get back, it will be mealtime. I want to see that news while enjoying my box of treasured top-grade caviar in prison, you understand..."
"Certainly, sir." Olson, Glenmorgan's top hitman, nodded emotionlessly.
After hanging up the visiting phone, Olson left the prison and began contacting his subordinates to start the plan.
Clark's attention followed Olson's phone call, and as he listened, his heart grew more alarmed. When he heard the insane plan, he suddenly stood up, his chair sliding back violently, making a sharp scraping sound against the floor.
"What's wrong, Clark?"
In the bedroom, Chloe, who had just returned from an interview outside and was resting, heard the commotion and sat up in confusion.
"I have an urgent matter. I need to go out."
Glancing at his watch, it was already 6:50. He grabbed his clothes and, without time for further explanation, Clark rushed out.
The lives of innocent citizens on a high-speed train, no, perhaps an entire city block, were waiting for him to save them.
It was urgent, with only ten minutes left!
But first, he needed to figure out which city high-speed train had been fitted with a proximity bomb!
Bang!
The King's Platform at dusk.
A sixteen-car, nearly mile-long high-speed urban rail train had just departed.
Clark, his red cape billowing, leaped across several blocks from the rooftops of distant skyscrapers. He descended onto the platform with the force of thunder, carrying a roaring wind and his own rage.
Gravel scattered, and the ground cracked in a spiderweb pattern, spreading several meters.
"It's Superman!"
The commuters, bored and scrolling on their phones while waiting for the train, were shocked. Some were so stunned by the sight of Superman descending like a god from the heavens that their mouths hung open, frozen in disbelief. Their phones slipped from their grasp and fell to the ground.
"Leave here! There's a bomb! Get to safety!"
Clark shouted back.
Without waiting for their response, he forced open the locked security door.
The steel door buckled and bent under his immense strength as he pried it open.
He leaped into the tunnel and pursued the train along the tracks.
"A bomb?"
"Superman, danger!"
The crowd, after a moment of stunned silence, saw him jump onto the tracks and immediately yelled in alarm.
Whoosh!
In the next instant, the red and blue figure vanished from their sight.
A long, sleek steel train, with a body streamlined for technology, its front end like a fired round-head bullet, was speeding down the tracks at four hundred kilometers per hour.
Clark caught up to the train. Everything seemed to slow down. He tore open the car roof and entered the train's interior.
"Bomb, where's the bomb?!"
Before arriving here, he had found the gangster leader, Olson, and given him a taste of Metropolis's highest tower several times. The man, unable to bear the fear, finally confessed which train was their target.
But he didn't know the bomb's exact location. He tried calling the gang member who planted it, but the call wouldn't connect.
"There's no time!"
Clark carefully used his force field to move the people on the train aside, searching under their seats for the bomb, but it was too slow. There simply wasn't enough time.
"And the bomb might not be under someone's seat. It could be hidden elsewhere."
His voice was much slower than it was now. Even with his super-hearing, he couldn't detect it.
The plan was to plant a sensor at the next station. The moment the city's high-speed train passed, the bomb would activate and detonate, inflicting pain on the city through the deaths of thousands.
Swish!
"I can't find the bomb, and I don't know where the sensor is!"
Clark exited the train and, in a flash, appeared on the next platform. He swallowed hard, standing tens of meters from the very front of the platform. With an unwavering resolve, he turned to face the train, which was approaching like a steel serpent at four hundred kilometers per hour.
"Then I'll stop it before it reaches the platform."
It was because of him, because Glenmorgan's crimes were exposed and he was imprisoned, that the man sought revenge on the city!
It was all his fault.
"Here I come!
No one will get hurt because of this!"
Clang, clang, clang!
The wind howled in his ears, and the sound of the train rapidly approached. His sightless eyes saw only darkness. He gritted his teeth, his body tensing.
This wasn't just a collision with a behemoth weighing hundreds of tons moving at four hundred kilometers per hour!
He had to use his unique force field to protect the entire train, from front to back. Otherwise, if the train stopped abruptly, the unimaginable force would transfer from one car to the next.
The steel walls would crumple like paper, and with the cars derailing and colliding, who knew how many would die. The bomb might even detonate!
It's here, so fast, giving him no extra time to think!
Less than fifty meters away, the hundreds-of-meters-long high-speed train, carrying a force like a mountain's roar, shot along the tracks like a bullet.
Thump, thump, thump!
His heartbeat accelerated like a drum. Clark let out a low growl, pushed off the ground with his legs, and thrust his arms forward to embrace it!
Bang!
In the next second, a violent blast of air erupted, kicking up dust and obscuring all vision.
...
Before dinner, the aroma of food wafted through the house. Mother Martha was busy preparing dinner, a simple beef stew with potatoes.
In the living room, David and his son sat on the sofa, watching television, waiting for Clark to return so they could eat together.
Suddenly, after a brief moment of panic from the TV host, an emergency news report was broadcast.
David and his father Jonathan's expressions changed.
"An emergency news bulletin.
Just moments ago, Superman leaped onto the King's Platform, shouting a warning to the people waiting for the city's high-speed train that there was a bomb there.
He then caught up to the AZ187 High-Speed Train and stopped it with incredible strength in front of the train, but he collapsed from exhaustion.
Here's the live report."
Accompanying the anchor's shocked tone, the camera's view passed over soldiers armed and blocking the scene.
A high-speed train, forcibly stopped, its front end severely deformed. Wave-like distorted patterns extended backward from the steel front, clearly showing the transmission of that unimaginable force.
But the next scene, which defied physics, was that only the front was deformed; the hundreds of meters of high-speed train behind it stopped safely on the tracks, and hundreds of bewildered passengers disembarked.
At the front of the train, two footprints, having crushed the railway sleepers and sunk inches into the ground, indicated the astonishing impact force it had endured.
Several people in protective suits were collecting something near the footprints, seemingly sweat.
And the person who should have been there had vanished.
The anchor's voice continued to come from the television.
"Regardless of whether there was a bomb on the train, in the past month, Superman has saved the lives of hundreds of citizens in this city.
It is reported that the exhausted and unconscious Superman was taken away by a military helicopter earlier. We hope the military will release him after investigating the truth."
Fwoosh!
"Clark?"
Hearing this from the sofa, David shot up, took a step forward, his face grim as he stared intently at the blocked scene on the television.
A bit late, I added an extra thousand characters.
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