"Uncle, I'm really sorry..." Little Clark looked miserable after accidentally injuring Bruce. "Do you want my Ultraman? You can have it."
"It's fine..." Bruce, already healed, looked at Clark and the toy. His eye twitched as he forced a smile. "Keep it. And call me Big Brother."
For some reason, Bruce reached out and ruffled Clark's hair.
...That actually feels pretty good. No wonder Morin likes doing this to me.
"Okay!" Clark immediately pulled the toy back, clearly unwilling to part with it. He didn't seem to mind the hair-ruffling. Morin did it all the time.
Bruce: "..."
"What exactly is he?" Bruce turned to Morin. "Don't lie to me. He's not human."
With Bruce's current physical condition, he could defeat any MMA champion in his weight class without taking a single hit.
Yet a five- or six-year-old child had sent him flying with one punch.
If that was human...
Then everyone else was a ghost.
"Of course he isn't," Morin said casually. "He's an alien."
"...Seriously?" Bruce frowned. Even though that was the answer he'd expected, Morin's track record made skepticism mandatory.
"Seriously. Why would I lie about that?" Morin said. "Clark's going to be terrifyingly strong in the future. If you don't keep training your magic, you won't even be able to take a punch from him."
"Humanity rules this planet because of tools, not physical strength," Bruce said coldly. "I have other advantages. And why would I ever fight him?"
Spoken like the man who never wins a fair fight but never loses a prepared one, Morin thought.
In the original timeline, Bruce distrusted Clark because he was a powerful alien and picked a fight.
But now...
After watching Clark grow up, the Uncle Bruce persona alone probably wouldn't allow that.
The Kents' upbringing had worked far too well.
Clark was a good kid. Exactly what Morin wanted.
The complete opposite of the brooding, isolated version from the original story.
It probably helped that Morin and Bruce occasionally picked him up from school in a convoy of luxury SUVs.
Or a private jet.
Probably.
"By the way," Morin said, changing the subject, "you look stressed lately. Gotham again?"
"...None of your business," Bruce snapped. "I can handle it."
"If you ever need help, just ask," Morin said with a smile. "I've got solutions. And evidence. Plenty of it."
"...How much?" Bruce asked quietly.
"Free."
"Then I don't want it."
Bruce's instincts screamed that free from Morin meant disaster.
"Hey, I'm actually trying to be a good person this time," Morin said sincerely.
"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Bruce replied flatly.
"Fine. Suit yourself." Morin shrugged.
He really was trying to help.
The criminals in this Gotham followed the same patterns as the ones he knew. Different faces, same crimes.
He could've saved Bruce years of work.
But paranoia was Bruce's default state.
"Anyway," Morin continued, "Clark's on summer break. I was going to look after him, but Diana and I are taking a trip. Mind watching him for a while?"
"It'd be good for him to learn combat and control. You can practice your magic too."
"No. I have-" Bruce paused. "Actually... fine."
Morin narrowed his eyes. "You planning something?"
"Me?" Bruce replied coolly. "Do I look like that kind of person?"
Morin nodded thoughtfully. "True. You're not as handsome as me. He's all yours."
Bruce watched Morin leave, then turned to Clark playing in the garden.
If he's already this strong...
Maybe I can convince him to help me get those photos back.
Yes.
That was the plan.
But first, trust.
Bruce nodded and called Alfred.
"Alfred. I need books."
"Yes, Master Bruce. What kind?"
"Child psychology. Specifically how to build bonds with children Clark's age. Bring them to my room. Now."
"At once, sir."
"Heh..." Bruce watched Clark pretend to fly. "Human wisdom is infinite. Just you wait, Morin."
Morin, already far away, heard every word.
"Why are you smiling like that?" Diana asked.
"Just remembered something funny," Morin replied. "Looks like we finally get some time alone."
An unexpected bonus.
He'd brought Clark along for fun, but a Kryptonian kid had too much energy.
X-ray vision. Super hearing.
Zero privacy.
Sending him back to the Kents wasn't an option. He'd promised them a fun summer.
And he didn't want Clark turning into a saint.
Leaving him with Bruce was perfect.
They'd bond.
And it neatly prevented any Batman versus Superman nonsense.
As for Bruce trying to use Clark against him?
Pure icing on the cake.
Morin wasn't worried.
Clark's loyalty wasn't that fragile.
And he still had all those photos.
Bruce wouldn't dare.
Unless he wanted to go viral.
-
Fifteen years later.
Bruce was still Bruce.
And Clark...
Bruce, the overachiever, had maxed out his relationship bar.
They were close.
Uncle Bruce stuck.
One morning, the Kents were driving.
"I just want to do something meaningful," teenage Clark said, frustrated.
"Are you saying farming isn't meaningful?" Jonathan asked. "Clark, I know your uncles are... impressive. But your powers are different. What if someone sees you? What if the government finds out?"
"I'm not worried," Clark said confidently. "Even if they do, Uncle Morin and Uncle Bruce can handle it."
"Why would they keep helping you?" Jonathan pressed.
"Because they're my uncles."
"They're not family. You don't share blood."
"So?" Clark replied. "I don't share blood with you either. And I still call you Dad."
He'd known he was different since childhood.
But thanks to Morin and Bruce, he'd accepted it.
Controlled it.
He was popular.
Nothing like the loner he'd once been meant to be.
"That's different!" Jonathan snapped, then stalled. "We love you. They-"
"Jonathan," Martha cut in sharply. "That's enough."
Jonathan couldn't shake the feeling that Morin and Bruce weren't good people.
Not in the same selfless way.
And... he wasn't entirely wrong.
"Just think about it," Jonathan said quietly.
"I-wait. Stop the car."
Clark's head snapped up.
A massive roar echoed in the distance.
A dark cloud twisted, a funnel reaching down.
A tornado.
Straight toward them.
Jonathan slammed the brakes. People abandoned their cars, running.
"Take your mother to the bridge!" Jonathan shouted. "Now!"
"It won't hold," Clark said calmly. "Dad, let me handle it."
"No! You can't let them see you!"
"God gave me these powers for a reason," Clark said. "I can't hide forever."
He smiled.
"As for the consequences... Uncle Morin and Uncle Bruce might not love me the same way you do. But like Uncle Morin said-selfless love is for family. Everything else is mutual interest."
"I trust them because I trust myself."
"I know where their lines are."
"I'm going to show my value."
Before Jonathan could stop him, Clark took off.
Straight into the storm.
Freeze breath.
Clark looked tiny against the massive tornado.
But size meant nothing.
The temperature imbalance collapsed.
The storm unraveled.
By the time it reached the road, it was nothing more than a breeze.
People stared as Clark descended, sunlight breaking through the clouds around him.
Jonathan and Martha stood frozen.
"You..." Jonathan whispered.
"I'm still your son," Clark said gently. "But I have my own path."
"I wasn't born to be ordinary."
"Your life will change," Jonathan said hoarsely. "The military-"
"Don't worry." Clark pulled out his phone.
Two calls.
One to Morin.
One to Bruce.
"Mutual interest," Clark said, winking.
A beam of light struck the ground.
Morin appeared in flip-flops, a tank top, and sunglasses.
"Not bad, kid!" He ruffled Clark's hair.
Proud.
Jonathan's death had been tragic in the original story.
Morin had no intention of letting that happen.
"Long time no see, Jonathan. Martha."
"Hello..." Jonathan stared at the man who hadn't aged a day.
"So," Morin snapped his fingers, "these are the witnesses."
Memories vanished.
Rewritten.
A tornado that dissipated naturally.
Another beam of light.
Bruce appeared, looking pale.
"Feel like throwing up?" Morin asked. "I won't laugh. Promise."
Blargh.
Bruce failed.
Click. Click.
"I'm not laughing," Morin said cheerfully. "I'm documenting history. Relax. First time's rough."
Bruce wiped his mouth and glared. Then turned to Clark.
"Handled?"
"I wiped memories," Morin said. "You clean the rest."
"Hmph."
Bruce pulled out his phone. "Dashcams. Phones. Alfred, prepare accounts. I'm buying used cars and devices."
"Already done, sir."
"I'm leaving," Morin said. "I rented a beach. Flew halfway across the world for this."
"So did I," Bruce said. "Billion-dollar deal. Interrupted."
"Enough mana?" Morin asked.
Bruce smirked and produced a pill. "Ten billion in R&D. Instant restoration."
"Show-off."
They left.
But before they did-
They said the same thing.
"Next time, wear a mask! Is that so hard?!"
Clark: "..."
Right.
Why didn't he?
-
Clark went to Gotham to learn how to be a masked hero.
Bruce didn't hide the Batman thing.
Gotham gained a second protector.
One Batman was already a nightmare.
Now there was a Kryptonian intern.
The only reason Gotham still stood was because Bruce had taught Clark exactly how hard to hit.
-
Ten years later.
Morning.
Sunlight crossed 149 million kilometers and slid through a window.
First, boxers.
Then lace lingerie.
The sunlight paused.
"...?"
The room was a battlefield.
Morin stretched, his hand wandering.
"Stop..." Diana murmured, half-asleep, swatting him-then letting it stay.
They rarely got this tired.
But last night, Diana wanted to know what it felt like to go all out as a human.
So they sealed everything.
Morin groaned and unsealed his powers.
Instant relief.
As they got dressed, Diana turned on the TV.
"...At 10:10 AM, Ferris Aircraft's Saber Three crashed during a test flight. Pilot Hal Jordan's reckless maneuvers caused the loss. No casualties were reported..."
Morin froze.
"What?" Diana asked. "You're never this focused on the news."
"Another key player," Morin said slowly.
"And a lot of trouble."
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