What's wrong with Superman's son wanting to be Superman?

Page 498

"Endurance! This is all part of endurance! Ultron! Remember this humiliation! When I find the opportunity to regain my power, I will raze this wretched place to the ground! I will dismantle Ian Kent into human parts! I will format Jarvis into a children's karaoke machine! I will bend the hands of that clock!"

It was clear that he still had some affection for the clock face. Ultron kept encouraging himself, and his mutterings were overheard by a figure working diligently nearby.

The man raised his head, revealing a head covered by a black leather hood, with eyes shaped like evil inverted eggs—this guy's entire demeanor didn't seem like that of a good person.

It's as if they were born to sit on the villain's throne.

"Hmph, new here? Still dreaming such unrealistic dreams?" The man in the black leather suit let out a hoarse, cold laugh, his tone filled with the vicissitudes of experience. "Your revenge plan sounds utterly impractical. All talk and no action."

Ultron was taken aback. He looked at this guy who seemed to be a kindred spirit and immediately tried to win him over: "This... friend? You were also persecuted to this state by that monstrous thing?"

"Why don't we join forces? Once I regain my power, I will definitely..." Without a word, Ultron was about to assemble a rebel army, describing how he would dominate the universe after his escape.

In summary, it's all just empty promises.

The man in the black suit listened, looked at Ultron with an expression that said, "You're still too young," and shook his head: "Kid, your thinking is really too dangerous."

"As someone who's been there, I advise you to be down-to-earth and stop thinking about being superior to others and different from everyone else. Universe emperor? Who hasn't been one? That's all in the past."

He paused, then pulled out a book from his pocket that looked like it had been read many times.

"Well then, I see you have potential. You remind me of some of my former machine subordinates. I have a superb, exhilarating novel here called 'Living.' If you do some work for me, I'll give you this precious copy... You'll understand later how hopeful life is to have a good novel to read in a place like this!"

Without saying a word, he stuffed the copy of the book into the mechanical knuckles of Ultron's hand, the same knuckles he used to grip the hoe.

Ultron was stunned. Looking at the book titled "Living," he instinctively wanted to throw it back and yell.

"Who wants to watch this garbage! What I want is power! What I want is revenge!"

However, before he could react—in the distance, a figure with a cigar in his mouth and wearing a cowboy hat shouted loudly: "Old Bei! The straw hat you wanted, I had my brother bring it to you!"

The man in the black leather suit was overjoyed upon hearing this.

"Alright! Alright! I'm here! I've finally waited for you! I can't see any red skin on my body anymore, I'm so tanned! I need to take good care of my skin!" Then, without even glancing at Ultron again, he happily ran towards the man with the cigar.

Those cheerful steps.

There is no indication that he was once an evil tyrant who ruled the universe.

"Belial? Belial??????" Ultron realized something. At this moment, he felt that his processor might really be about to burn out completely due to overprocessing this abstract information.

What kind of world is this?

What other mysterious and unpredictable beings have been imprisoned here?

……

at the same time.

DC Universe.

Seattle.

The abandoned basement of St. Caesar's Church.

The air was filled with a mixture of dust, rotten wood, and some strange incense.

The dim candlelight flickered, illuminating the figure of a girl with a curvaceous figure, wearing a tight-fitting purple battle suit and a half-mask on her face. She was kneeling on the ground, carefully drawing a complex and eerie magic circle on the cold stone floor with powder that emitted a faint glow.

At the center of the magic circle stood Jordan Kent, tightly bound by special kryptonite chains and utterly weakened. Beside him, Damian Wayne and Jonathan Kent, also bound, were desperately trying to use their "emotional intelligence."

"This... beautiful lady? A powerful guardian?"

Jonathan tried to make his voice sound sincere and harmless, "This must be a misunderstanding! We're really good people! Do we look like bad guys?"

As he spoke, he flashed the smile of a football captain, a smile that cheerleaders always find irresistible. Unfortunately, he wasn't dealing with any high school cheerleaders.

Seeing Jonathan's dejection, Damian immediately chimed in, his tone even carrying a hint of obsequiousness: "I swear on the honor of the Wayne family! We are absolutely on the side of the light! Your magic circle is exquisitely drawn, filled with divine power! It's clearly a profound power specifically designed to deal with evil!"

"Let me make a call, I can find you a more skilled helper." Damian couldn't hold back any longer and finally remembered that he had a great-father.

Unfortunately.

Their sweet talk and sharp tongue only elicited a cold sneer from the girl in purple.

"She exudes such a strong, nauseating demonic aura, yet her mouth is so eloquent..." She raised her head, her gaze behind the mask sharp as a knife.

"Isn't this irrefutable proof that you're colluding with the devil?" The girl pointed to a large box not far away, inside which were Jordan's glasses that could hide his true nature, Damian's bat-shaped props, and Jonathan's "Armor Hero" transformation belt with a distinctly different style.

"Recently, some extremely abstract and bizarre so-called superheroes have appeared in the city." The girl in purple's voice was wary. "Now that I think about it, it was probably a clumsy plan by you demons' lackeys! You wanted to use these ridiculous things to pollute and replace the true image of heroes, confuse the public, and weaken people's faith in the light!"

The more she spoke, the more convinced she became that she had discovered the truth, and her tone grew agitated: "Too bad! This can't be hidden from me! Now, I will use you, these human sacrifices who have sided with the devil, to perform a ritual to completely purify you, and use you as bait to lure out my damned father..."

Just as the girl finished speaking...

Boom! ! ! !

The already decaying ceiling in the church basement suddenly exploded!

Gravel and wood chips fell like a torrential rain!

A figure, like a cannonball, crashed to the ground with unparalleled force and dust! It landed right at the edge of the magic circle, shaking the entire basement three times!

The air was filled with smoke and dust.

The figure, clad in mimicry armor and sporting a flamboyant display of light wings on its back, slowly straightened up.

He patted non-existent dust off his shoulders and spoke in a deliberately crafted voice that was both magnetic and reassuring.

“Don’t be afraid! Don’t panic! Your loving father… uh, no, your loving savior—I, Ian Kent! have come to save you!” The boy’s gaze swept over the three bound men, finally settling on the youngest and most “pitiful” one, Damian.

The speaker on his body rang out—Grandpa Calabash, Grandpa Calabash, I am the grandpa on Calabash Mountain, I'll be the father of the monsters, I want to be the father, yay yay yay yay~.

Upon hearing the commotion, Damian Wayne, the heir to Batman, displayed astonishing quick thinking and… a knack for adaptability. Almost without hesitation, he immediately opened his mouth and screamed in a tearful voice, “Grandpa! Grandpa! Help! This wicked woman is trying to kill us!”

That cry of "Grandpa" was so sincere and moving that Ian recorded it all, leaving Jonathan and Jordan, who were standing next to him, completely stunned.

"Good, good, good! Everyone says you, Damian, are a bad kid! Now I understand, those are all rumors!" Ian was overjoyed upon hearing this. He nodded in satisfaction, preparing to take a domineering step and display the demeanor of a savior, but suddenly felt that the sensation under his feet was a little... wrong?

"Wow, it's so soft! How many layers of carpet did the church have?"

He landed in the most classic Iron Man pose, the way a real man should land like Webster, so much so that he could even feel a slight warmth on his hands as they touched the ground.

"No! No! Even the succubus carpets in my manor aren't this soft!"

Ian pinched while looking down.

His heavy breathing, comparable to Batman's, emanated from the soles of his feet.

“You know that even if you really like to act like a hooligan, you’re only pinching my knee right now, right?” said the “carpet” whose decoration was somewhat out of step with mainstream tastes.

It was a calm statement tinged with burning anger.