Marvel’s Superman

If we say the main universe time and space, all the undercurrents are hidden on the calm surface, gradually showing the omen of crisis that is about to come.

Luke's world, then, is like the retirement life of a retired worker, slow and monotonous.

"Work harder, haven't you eaten?"

"Think of me as Lana's quarterback boyfriend, yes, that's it, punch me hard!"

"Too weak, too weak... Kakarot! Now you are not even qualified to be my opponent!"

"..."

Change to the previous one and face such a boring world.

Luke might choose to pass the time with philatelist Hollywood actresses and non-stop car repairs.

But now, he has found more interesting entertainment.

That is to tune Krypton's little cousin!

Under the private mansion, there is a wide training ground.

Bang bang!

Bang bang bang!

The muffled thunderous sounds came together in a series, like firecrackers.

The fist, like a fast, rhythmic drumbeat, kept falling on Clark.

Like a human flesh bag, he can only hold his head in his hands, passively endure the violent offensive of his elder cousin, and there is no room for a counterattack.

The training process these days is like that.

He was beaten repeatedly until he could not stand up.

"I, I admit defeat, big cousin!"

Feeling exhausted, Clark gasped violently and even spoke intermittently.

"Clark, your will is not strong enough, you should say, 'I can still play with you all day'!"

Luke withdrew his fist and said with a little disgust, "It's too unmanly to admit defeat so quickly!"

Clark took off his tattered gloves, as if his body had been hollowed out.

The whole person sits on the hard ground with potholes, and his chest rises and falls like a pulling bellows.

He looked up and saw his big cousin's heavy fists, which were enough to hammer him to death, and felt the sore muscles again.

If this fights with the big cousin all day, I am afraid that he will die on the spot and everyone will be gone.

"I still can't learn to fight..."

Clark shook his head, a little frustrated.

In front of Luke, he looked extremely clumsy.

The speed of punching is not fast enough, and the response is also very slow, and every time I can only be beaten.

The only difference is how long it lasts.

"Fighting takes a long time, Clark."

Luke waved his hand, this amount of exercise is at best a warm-up, not to mention breathing, not even sweating.

"I just want you to learn first, how to control power."

At the beginning, every time Clark punched, he did his best to blow the air.

Every step you take, you can step out cracks and potholes on the solid ground.

If there is no Luke's biological force field covering the surrounding, I am afraid that this house will be demolished.

"At least you have now learned how to control the power of your punches, and you will no longer lose control."

Luke smiled slightly and threw a hot towel to his little cousin.

The Kryptonian's physique is strong, even if he is used as a sandbag for two hours in a row.

Clark was still alive and well, just a little sore.

A few minutes in the sun will probably be fine.

That's why Luke is so eager to train his little cousin.

Since he became stronger and stronger, he couldn't even find a suitable sandbag.

And now, Clark is undoubtedly a good choice.

Who's more resistant to beatings than Kryptonians?

"Then when will I learn to fly?"

Clark always remembers the good feeling of looking down at the planet from above.

"When you can resist the gravity of the earth, you can fly."

For true Kryptonians, flying is not an ability.

They can completely get rid of the pull of gravity with their tyrannical bodies and biological force fields.

Zod, for example, was born with the genetic template of General Krypton.

The talent for fighting and the leadership ability of the team are directly full.

So when he came to Earth, he quickly got used to the atmosphere and gravity.

Things like flying, thermal sight, can be mastered very quickly.

"Big cousin, I still have something to do."

Clark rested for a while, wiped the sweat from his body, then got up and said.

He recently joined the school's football team and gets up close and personal with his crush, Lana, every day.

Coupled with the daily special training of the eldest cousin, although the back is sore, he is indeed able to control his body better than before, and he no longer has to worry about hurting others.

All in all, life is like entering the fast lane.

Everything is so satisfying.

"There may be a lot of strange things happening in the town recently. If there is danger, remember to call for help."

Luke smiled meaningfully. He understood very well that kryptonite was a threat to Superman, but he didn't say it directly.

Because telling Clark doesn't make any sense, it just raises more questions.

This town is Superman's novice village.

He needs to constantly complete tasks and accumulate experience in order to become a beacon of hope for the future metropolis.

...

...

Time passed silently like this. Between the school and the daily special training of his eldest cousin, Clark felt that his life was full.

And the first task he has to face will happen in a week.

On this day, he accompanied his mother to the town bank to withdraw money.

Thanks to the secret help of the eldest cousin, the size of the Kent farm has been about doubled.

Adoptive father Jonathan began to get busy, taking out his savings and preparing to buy a new batch of farm implements and machines.

"Seventeen years ago, the meteorite shower hit the town, causing a lot of casualties."

Mrs. Kent smiled and talked about the past. It was when she and her husband were driving home that they picked up Clark who fell from the sky.

Because of that disaster, many families were broken and innocent people lost their lives, and the registration status later became much simpler.

Jonathan took a lot of effort to successfully file with the Population Administration and the Social Security Administration.

As a result, Clark Kent turned from an alien to an American citizen.

"Mom, thank you for adopting me."

Clark often wonders, what if he didn't fall on the farm in Kansas, but somewhere else?

"You gave us hope, Clark."

Mrs. Kent took her son's arm and walked into the bank together.

But not long after, two gangsters wearing presidential masks broke in.

"President Kennedy" with a double-barreled shotgun took the lead.

They seemed to be well prepared, and first sent a person in to step on the spot.

After observing for a while, the gangster wearing the mask of "President Roosevelt" quickly brought down the security inside.

Then standing at the door, the two security guards who were attracted by the attention made the remaining accomplices fall to the ground.

"Don't move! All squat down!"

"President Kennedy" fired a shot in the sky and was not worried about attracting the police.

Small towns are not like big cities, with strict security measures.

Even if the police station rushes over immediately after receiving the alarm bell from the bank, it will take seven or eight minutes.

That's enough time for them to fill two travel bags with banknotes.

In reality, robbery is an illegal job with a strong focus on efficiency.

The goal is to get the most harvest in the shortest time.

Those gangsters who broke into the bank and then caused an accident and were quickly blocked by the police.

In a way, they are not professional enough.

"Open the vault and put the money in! Be quick, if anyone delays time, I'll shoot him in the head."

The three gangsters quickly controlled the scene, facing a double-barreled shotgun, the staff in the bank and the residents of the town obediently put their heads in their hands and squatted on the ground.

It's like encountering a road robbery, just hand over the wallet honestly, don't try to resist, or you may get a bullet.

"President Jefferson" used a Colt pistol and led a bank manager and an employee to open the vault to store money.

The other is at the door, is he going out to scan the situation with his probe.

They have a clear division of labor, without the slightest panic, and they are not newbies.

"It's okay, Mom, it'll be over soon."

Clark stared at the gunmen, out of his inner sense of justice, he wanted to jump out immediately and stop these bad guys from committing crimes.

But considering the safety of his mother and the need to hide his identity, Clark could only temporarily suppress the complicated mood that was eager to try.

When life is under the control of others, every second is so torturous.

The "President Kennedy" with a double-barreled shotgun seemed to enjoy the feeling of having the power to kill.

The muzzle swept incessantly, each movement causing a whimper of terror.

"Boss, it's alright."

The long few minutes finally passed, and "President Roosevelt" threw two full travel bags on the ground.

The "President Kennedy" headed by kicked the bag to the accomplice at the door and let him throw it into the trunk of the car.

Not sure if the town police were still on their way, he raised his hand to check the time.

Only eight minutes have passed.

"Pick a hostage and get in the car."

The leader, "President Kennedy," carried a bag of money and said to the other accomplices.

"President Roosevelt", holding a Colt pistol, took a quick glance and chose Mrs. Kent, who was trembling and looked scared.

Female, middle age, possibly housewife...

Such a label will make those police officers feel afraid and dare not do it directly.

The bandits roughly grabbed Mrs Kent and tried to take her away.

This brother did not know that his path was narrowed.

Even General Zod was rubbed on the ground for trying to hurt Superman's mother.

Others do this, and the fate can be imagined.

"Clark!"

Just when Mrs. Kent was screaming, Superman, who couldn't bear it any longer, like an angry bull, suddenly pounced with red eyes.

Bang!

Thanks to his big cousin's recent daily training, Clark didn't crash the gangster into a puddle of ketchup.

Unpredictable, he turned his head over the other side, and the Colt pistol, which might have caused a "threat", slipped out.

"Fake! You little brat!"

The gangster didn't expect that he would capsize in the gutter and knock a high school student to the ground.

However, before he could wait for him to do something, a powerful fist smashed the bridge of his nose.

Even his cheeks seemed to have been scraped by a steel knife, grinding away large pieces of skin.

This is still the consequence of Clark's holding back his strength.

Otherwise, the opponent's head may burst like a watermelon.

Warm blood splashed on his face.

Clark, who was fighting with someone for the first time and seeing blood, was a little overwhelmed.

He got up in a panic, and then saw two gangsters coming over outside the door.

The double-barreled shotgun was aimed at Clark's chest, and the gangster leader wearing a "President Kennedy" mask let out a cruel laugh.

boom!

A cloud of smoke dissipated.

Strong kinetic energy and shrapnel hit Superman.

Everyone in the bank covered their mouths one after another, as if they couldn't bear to look anymore.

Such a young life is about to die under the guns of gangsters... what a tragedy.

Especially Mrs. Kent, who almost fainted under her emotions.

But after a few seconds, the bloody scene they expected did not appear.

Clark subconsciously looked at the hit chest, only felt a slight tingling, and couldn't help but take a few steps back.

Other than that, there was no other reaction.

"What the hell are you?"

Now it was the turn of the bandit leader to be shocked.

In front of this young and innocent looking high school student, is he okay with a shotgun shot?

He doesn't believe in evil, pulls the bolt, and prepares to do it again.

But Clark didn't give "President Kennedy" this chance. He also learned a truth from his big cousin, not to let the enemy have any room for counterattack.

In a few steps, he crossed the distance between the two.

Raise your hand to hold that double-barreled shotgun and squeeze it hard!

Crunch!

Makes tooth-crushing metal deformation sounds.

The barrel of the gun was twisted into a twist in an instant.

Bang!

Clark easily snatched the scrapped gun from the bandit leader and threw it on the other side's head like a baseball bat.

This time, he controlled the force perfectly.

Severe concussion at most, but never life-threatening.

The only remaining gangster, "President Jefferson", saw this scene, and without looking back, he hurriedly climbed into the car, ignited the engine, and drove away.

Clark wanted to catch up, but then stopped abruptly.

He couldn't leave his mother alone in the bank, that could be dangerous.

After more than ten seconds, the bank clerk determined that the gangster had left, and gathered around Clark, looking at him with amazed eyes.

At this time, Superman realized one thing.

The secret that he is a Saiyan seems to be exposed?

In a hurry, Clark, who shot angrily, had long forgotten the reminder of his adoptive father Jonathan.

It was only after he had dealt with the bank robbers that he remembered that he shouldn't have done this.

"You saved us!"

"This kid is a hero!"

"He wasn't hurt..."

"..."

Various voices squeezed into Clark's ears, and he became a little at a loss, not knowing what to do.

For the first time in his life, he became the focus, and he was also called a "hero".

Clark is not used to it, and he carefully pushes away the people around him.

He picked up his frightened mother and prepared to leave.

At this time, a harsh siren sounded.

The police finally arrived.

But they only saw two fainted gangsters, and cheerful bank clerks.

How did this happen?

The policeman had question marks written all over his face.

The scene doesn't look like a bank robbery, but rather like a rave party of some sort.

"Officer, it's the kid in the school uniform."

Someone pointed to Clark and said.

"Everyone said, you brought down these two gunmen?"

The fat police officer with a beer belly came over and asked. He observed the scene for a while, intentionally or not, and found the double-barreled shotgun that was twisted into a twist.

"You did this too?"

Clark was a little restrained, and he scratched his head, not knowing how to explain it.

"Don't be nervous, kid, I'm just taking a statement. You stopped a bank robbery, saved everyone there, and they all appreciate you, and the police will give you a compliment."

The fat officer, who was experienced, slowed down, trying to dispel Clark's guard, and then began to talk.

"Tell me, how did you beat them?"

It sounds like a fantasy for a high school student to bring down two armed robbers.

Clark's throat rolled twice, remembering the words taught by his eldest cousin, and replied, "Officer, I, I am born with supernatural powers, and knocked them over just by swinging my fist."

The fat police officer's round face suddenly became serious.

"Then this is your natural power?"

He pointed to Clark's chest, a hole in the tattered clothes.

That's a trace from a shotgun.