Bruce Wayne's wallet never weeps.
But the Gotham billionaire's temper certainly knew how to throw a world-class tantrum.
Of course, Batman was well aware that Ian genuinely had Child Protective Services on speed dial and would actually file a report. He wouldn't strike a child. Instead, he clenched his fists, his stifled frustration finally venting in a long, uncontrollable, public exhale.
"Whew... huff... huff..."
His breathing rose and fell like a heavy engine straining under a load. To release the boiling emotions within, he remained seated in his wheelchair and simply slammed a fist into the buckled pavement beside him.
*BOOM!!*
His strength was controlled with surgical precision, ensuring no bystanders were harmed, but it was enough to cause the already cracked ground to completely explode. Debris sprayed everywhere, leaving behind a clear, deep crater in the shape of a fist.
The wheelchair even skidded backward half an inch from the recoil.
Silent fury is often the most terrifying kind.
Wonder Woman, however, watched from the side with sparkling eyes. She instinctively nudged Clark with her elbow and whispered with an excitement only the two of them could hear.
"Fight, fight, fight."
The Amazonian Princess, having lived for many, many centuries, was still an old soul at heart. Her deep-seated love for a good spectacle was apparently no different from any ordinary woman on Earth.
She was stirring the pot.
"Uh, hey now." Seeing the situation, Clark felt his scalp tingle. He immediately stepped forward, shielding Ian from Batman, and used the most natural tone possible to deliver some fatherly guidance.
"Ian! Aren't you supposed to be at school? Don't you have that... very important exam today?" He desperately tried to find a reason to send the little troublemaker away before Gotham's finest and the Justice League's primary benefactor suffered a literal brain hemorrhage. His frantic winking and exaggeratedly stern expression were a testament to his incredible facial muscle control.
"Oh! Right!"
Upon hearing this, Ian actually looked down at the medicated watch on his wrist.
"Even though I am already an indispensable core member, strategic consultant, and Chief Extra-Universal Affairs Expert of the Justice League, I must maintain both my social status and my academic credentials. I have to be strong in both areas!"
This was a person with a truly resilient heart. Despite having so many titles and power that ranked among the top on Earth, Ian remained true to his roots and did not neglect his original profession.
"After all, in our world, having no education is equivalent to having no future. Even Darkseid knows that common sense. I'll be off then. I'll leave the League's affairs to you for now. If you run into problems you can't solve, remember to call me. Batman's uncle is always happy to rescue any of Batman's friends."
With that, he completely ignored the complex stares of the group. His body blurred, and with a "whoosh" like a soaring skyrocket, he flew off, leaving a twisting contrail in the sky.
He certainly moved fast.
Mainly because he saw his old man's fists clenching so tight they were nearly vibrating. Ian knew exactly what discarding the tool once the job is done looked like; people only called you a "good son" when they needed something.
"Sigh!" Clark watched his son disappear into the distance. For the first time, he didn't instinctively refute Ian's self-aggrandizing claim of being an "indispensable member."
He was mostly afraid that if he spoke up, Ian would find an excuse to stay and continue his sustainable, scorched-earth psychological warfare on Batman, whose mental state was already hovering at the edge of a breakdown.
"Even though I've always felt your youngest son's mental state was... well, unique," Wonder Woman stepped forward, watching the direction Ian had vanished with a look of complex admiration.
She paused, then added with a hint of relief: "At least he's currently concentrating all his fire on tormenting Bruce alone. Based on that premise, I'm willing to temporarily pretend he's perfectly sane."
That's a woman's logic for you.
Her train of thought was quite distinctive.
"Diana, please, don't make it worse!" Clark groaned, rubbing his forehead. He was used to it, though; there weren't many perfectly sane superheroes in the Justice League to begin with.
"I'm being serious." Wonder Woman shrugged indifferently. She turned her gaze toward Batman, whose face was as dark as a burnt pot, her voice tinged with disbelief. "I've been shocked for a long time that Bruce hasn't found a way to lock Ian in Arkham yet."
At that moment, a faint but clear voice came from nearby.
The Injustice Superman, firmly locked in Kryptonite handcuffs and leaning against a broken wall, painfully raised a hand. His face bore a weak expression of profound solidarity as he whispered his agreement.
"I support that idea." If there was anyone present who felt Ian belonged in Arkham more than anyone else, it was the Injustice Superman, who had been "blessed" by Ian with twelve precious babies.
His agreement was so heartfelt that even Clark couldn't find a way to argue against it.
"Sigh!"
Clark felt the rubble beneath his feet growing hot from his own embarrassment. He was cringing so hard he felt he could dig out a second Metropolis with his toes. Just then, Batman maneuvered his wheelchair, the faint hum of electric motors whirring as he approached the cage holding a giggling Black Adam. His cowl hid all emotion, but his voice was unexpectedly calm.
In fact, it was... eerily calm.
"To tell you the truth, I've actually always been quite at ease with Ian Kent," Batman spoke, his voice filtered through the mask, devoid of any ripples.
He paused, seemingly weighing his words, before adding: "—Except for his mouth." As soon as those words left his lips, everyone except the still-snickering Black Adam froze.
Wonder Woman let out a sharp gasp. In disbelief, she swatted Clark's arm and hurriedly began whispering about Batman again.
"Clark! Was my hearing damaged by the battle earlier?"
"He said he's at ease? Batman is at ease with someone? And he's talking about Ian Kent?! Is he lying to us, or has he finally snapped?!"
The more she spoke, the more alarmed she became.
"That thing we discussed in secret... the 'Bruce Wayne Emergency Recovery and Behavioral Correction Center' we started building on Kepler-186f... should we activate it early?!"
The name of the institution sounded pleasant enough, but no one present was a fool. Everyone knew it was a pre-emptive containment facility—or a psychiatric hospital—built specifically for Batman.
Kepler-186f was an exoplanet orbiting the red dwarf Kepler-186, roughly 492 light-years from Earth.
It was the first Earth-sized planet found in the habitable zone of another star, and Clark had already verified it as a planet capable of supporting human life.
Of course, no one believed this was done without the help of the forever late Flash. Hearing this, Clark's embarrassment instantly shifted into a look of guilt.
He hurried to lower his voice.
"What Kepler-186f? I don't know anything! I never participated in any alien psychiatric hospital plan! Diana, stop talking nonsense!" Clark felt Wonder Woman was the one being driven mad by the stress.
Batman's wheelchair turned silently, his white lenses "looking" precisely at Clark. Even without seeing his expression, Clark felt a gaze that seemed to pierce right through his Man of Steel exterior.
"Heh."
From beneath the cowl came two short, cold, dry, "heh heh" fake laughs. Clearly, Batman had not only known about his teammates' secret plans against him for a long time.
He also knew the location and the general nature of the facility.
Attempting to pull a fast one on him—especially regarding his own health—his "loving and harmonious" teammates were truly out of their league.
Clark's face instantly turned as red as a tomato.
However, Batman didn't pursue the matter of the psychiatric hospital. After all, the contingency plans he had prepared were far more ruthless than theirs. He steered the conversation back to the starting point.
His tone remained terrifyingly steady.
"In terms of reliability, I actually feel that in most situations, Ian is far more dependable than Clark, or even you, Diana."
Batman spoke with absolute earnestness. Wonder Woman was completely stunned. She looked at Batman with a gaze full of pity and the certainty that "this guy is finally lost it."
Ian Kent is reliable?
It's over!
Batman probably died a long time ago, and the one before them was just an Ian Kent clone. Maybe Ian Kent was like Ares and could transform into anyone at will.
Wonder Woman's Ares Paranoia showed signs of resurfacing after many years. At that moment, the low rumble of the Batmobile's unique engine echoed from the distance. Lights pierced through the smoke and dust as the massive armored vehicle approached like a black beast, ready to transport the cage containing Black Adam.
It was clearly a drone summoned by Bruce Wayne. The headlights swept across Batman's face, illuminating his jawline hidden in the shadows.
In that moment, his expression in the shifting light and shadow was difficult to describe—it was a mixture of extreme helplessness, a long-term headache, and a rare, deeply buried emotion.
Batman did not respond further.
Instead, he began the process of loading the cage.
As for his inner feelings.
Perhaps only Clark, with his mind-reading intuition, could catch a glimpse.
He could mistrust Clark's overly idealistic kindness, doubt Wonder Woman's loyalty to humanity, and even lack faith in the omnipotent God everyone in the world loved.
But—Bruce Wayne trusted his parents.
If Thomas and Martha Wayne felt that the boy was essentially a good kid, then Bruce Wayne was willing to try and believe it.
After all.
Those were his father and mother. Even if that trust required him to maintain an endless supply of credit cards and blood pressure medication, Mr. Wayne was never short on money or medicine.
With Batman's control.
The rear of the Batmobile sprayed blue plasma.
The heavy chassis let out a low roar as it rose steadily into the air. The specialized cage holding the alternately giggling and dazed Black Adam was firmly secured to the transport rack at the rear of the vehicle. Batman sat in his wheelchair, and a magnetic docking device extended from the bottom, locking perfectly onto the top of the Batmobile.
He cast one last look at Clark and Wonder Woman on the ground. Without any superfluous words, he left behind a cold instruction that seemed squeezed from between his teeth.
"Time to head back and make some 'preparations'." As soon as he finished, the Batmobile's engine power surged, and with a piercing sonic boom, it shot toward Gotham City like an arrow. This Batmobile flew faster than the faked specs of an F-35, quickly becoming a black dot and finally disappearing completely.
Clark and Wonder Woman looked at each other, both seeing a sense of relief and an indescribable complexity in each other's eyes.
"I'll go check on Bruce. And 'settle' this one," Clark sighed, gesturing to the Injustice Superman, whose gaze was still somewhat vacant under the suppression of the Kryptonite handcuffs. He really didn't feel comfortable letting a mentally unstable Batman handle the hot potato that was Black Adam alone.
Especially since it might involve after-effects left by Ian. Hearing this, Wonder Woman nodded. She tossed her slightly messy long hair and straightened her back, regaining the majesty of an Amazonian Princess. "Go ahead, leave this to me. Someone has to stay behind and help these 'perfectly timed' New York police officers clean up the mess."
She also enjoyed poking fun at the NYPD.
Clark said no more. He picked up the Injustice Superman and turned into a blurred red and blue figure, chasing after the direction of Gotham.
"I told you they were on time." Above the ruins, only Wonder Woman Diana remained, along with the New York police who were beginning to cautiously approach, attempting to control the scene and clear the debris.
Soon, like sharks smelling blood, news vans and reporters from major media outlets swarmed the area. Microphones and recording equipment instantly surrounded Wonder Woman, leaving no room to move.
"Wonder Woman! What was the cause of this incident? Who was that man in the black suit?"
"Witnesses claim to have seen Superman and another person with a similar but different appearance. Is this true? Are they friends or foes?"
"The Justice League has once again engaged in a massive battle with an unknown enemy in New York, causing immense destruction. What are your thoughts? Will the League be responsible for damages?"
"Why did Batman leave in such a hurry? Is there another emergency in Gotham?"
Questions hit her like rapid-fire cannon.
Diana maintained a professional smile. Despite her damaged armor and wounds, she remained immensely commanding. Using the diplomatic rhetoric and linguistic arts accumulated over thousands of years, she navigated the questions with ease.
"This incident involved a powerful individual from ancient times whose power briefly went out of control, but the situation is now effectively contained. The Justice League remains committed to protecting Earth from any threat. Regarding compensation, specialized personnel will communicate with the city government... Batman has other urgent matters to attend to."
Her answers were official yet vague, demonstrating the League's responsibility while skillfully avoiding all core secrets.
Her expression management was perfect, as if the person who had been whispering "fight, fight, fight" just moments ago wasn't her. This was the pinnacle of diplomatic finesse.
Think about it: an independent woman, an immigrant, a minority, and even possessing a lesbian buff to the outside world—Wonder Woman was indeed the perfect spokesperson for the Justice League.
She wouldn't be bullied too easily.
Of course.
There were still media outlets that didn't care about those buffs.
"Wonder Woman! Our station just received an anonymous tip, along with high-definition photo evidence allegedly taken by satellite in real-time! The tipster claims that once again, an 'Enforcer of Justice' who wishes to remain anonymous stepped in at the critical moment to save the struggling Justice League?"
"Is this report accurate? Who exactly is this mysterious guardian?" With that, the reporter turned his tablet screen toward Diana.
The screen clearly displayed several high-definition photos taken during the peak of the battle: one showed Green Lantern, who had left after finishing his task, being struck by Black Adam's black lightning and falling from the sky trailing smoke. Another showed Wonder Woman's Lasso of Truth being forcibly released.
She herself was shown being blown back by a shockwave in a rather ungraceful manner.
Naturally, Batman wasn't spared. In the photos, Batman's wheelchair was overturned by some force, and he was captured in a clumsy attempt to stabilize himself.
There was even a shot of Aquaman being punched flying, crashing into a pile of reinforced concrete. Every photo was taken from a tricky angle, perfectly capturing the League members at their most pathetic and embarrassed moments. Yet, they were crystal clear—definitely the work of high-end military satellites.
And the person who captured them clearly had a talent for photography.
Even AI would struggle to recreate such authentic embarrassment. In a way, Wonder Woman might not have known, but Ian's Black Box truly had infinite uses.
"???????"
The perfect smile on Diana's face instantly froze.
The corner of her mouth twitched slightly.
The Amazonian Princess felt a surge of blood rush to her head. Thousands of years of refinement nearly crumbled in that instant.
She desperately wanted to whip out her Lasso of Truth, find that anonymous "Enforcer of Justice" brat, and give him a sound thrashing! Of course, that was just a fleeting thought. Diana still remembered the last time she wanted to hit that brat, only for her divine artifact to be defiled—a dark chapter in her history.
"These... these photos??"
For the first time, Diana's voice stuttered. She tried to remain calm, but her jaw was clenched so hard it made an audible grinding sound. "The source of these photos is highly suspicious! They are very likely maliciously altered!"
However, the reporter was clearly prepared and shot back immediately: "But we have already had three top digital forensic experts remotely verify them! These photos show no signs of Photoshop! They are raw satellite data! The anonymous tipster also mentioned that if the League needs it, he can provide more 'exciting' moments."
The words "exciting moments" were the final straw that broke the camel's back.
Diana Prince, Princess of the Amazons, daughter of Zeus, founding member of the Justice League, a demi-god who had lived for ages—her expression management failed completely.
Her beautiful face turned red and then white. Fine veins—divine Amazonian veins—popped on her forehead. Those eyes that could stare down Medusa were now filled with humiliation and rage.
"That... anonymous... little..."
The final word, "bastard," was barely contained by her remaining shreds of sanity.
But her expression—looking as if she wanted to crawl through the network cables to commit murder—was captured by every surrounding lens and broadcast live to millions of homes.
The next day.
The front-page headline of the *Daily Planet* would likely be: *Shocking! Ancient War God Resurrects to Rule the World, Anonymous Guardian Saves the Day Again?*
Alternatively, it might be: *Wonder Woman Explodes in Rage; the Heartwarming Reason Behind It!* Regardless, Ian, who provided the news, had truly captured art on par with a certain orange-hued leader raising a fist after an assassination attempt.
People were bored of seeing superheroes being glorious. However, seeing superheroes in embarrassing moments? God knows how many young people would pay a dollar in licensing fees to download those as wallpapers.
That is what a business genius looks like; he never missed an opportunity to make money.
Every little bit helps.
And compared to Wonder Woman.
Clark and Bruce Wayne weren't feeling much better.
In the depths of one of Bruce's backup Batcaves, the air was thick with the smell of disinfectant, engine oil, and various simmering medicinal tonics. This was likely where Batman used medicated baths to absorb physical enhancements and repair his body.
Batman was settling the mentally sensitive Injustice Superman, while Clark was responsible for imprisoning Black Adam.
The lower levels of the Batcave contained specialized cells designed to hold super-powered individuals. Inside a cell, Black Adam was restrained by a special energy field, sitting on a cold metal bed.
That abstract conscious journey and Ian's treatment seemed to have drained most of his energy, but the arrogance and ferocity of the ancient king had not been entirely erased.
Seeing Clark remove the shackles from his body, he snapped his head up, his dark eyes burning with the fire of resentment.
"This isn't fair, Superman."
Black Adam's voice was hoarse but carried a provocative edge. "You didn't truly defeat me! It was that boy... he used some wicked method to steal my power!"
"You haven't truly faced me yet. If you have the courage, release me. Let's have a one-on-one, fair fight!" He had clearly learned the basics of this world before causing trouble.
The departing Clark stopped in his tracks, standing just outside the transparent energy wall of the cell. He didn't speak. He only slightly tilted his head, his blue eyes usually full of sunlight and warmth.
At that moment, Superman's eyes quietly changed—deep within his pupils, traces of brilliant, molten gold began to swirl.
Within that gold, flickers of dangerous crimson pulsed. He didn't release any energy, didn't even glare intentionally. But that subtle shift in color, and the invisible, soul-shaking sense of absolute power that followed, pressed against Black Adam's heart like a physical weight through the energy wall.
It was terrifying—a pressure that transcended the physical plane and struck directly at the essence of life, as if in the next second, the weight of the entire universe would come crashing down.
"Ah???"
All of Black Adam's subsequent provocations were instantly stuck in his throat.
He felt as though an invisible hand had gripped his heart, making it difficult to breathe. Ancient instincts screamed at him, telling him the alien before him was horrifying.
Black Adam's mind raced.
The next moment.
With extreme difficulty and a tiny, almost imperceptible movement, he pulled his neck back. His momentum instantly withered, his voice dropped several octaves, and it even carried a hint of subtle awkwardness.
"Fine, you misheard me. I meant... I... I want a pillow. The bed here is a bit hard." Black Adam demonstrated his ability to surrender at lightning speed.
Normally, he was the death before dishonor type, but the current situation was clearly anything but normal. Black Adam didn't want to be the guy who resurrected just to drop dead again.
Endure.
Endure.
He must endure.
Black Adam recalled several literary works he had scanned while absorbing modern knowledge—specifically, the Dragon King's Secret Technique found in certain web novels. He was more mature than the ambitious man of his past.
"Fine."
The gold-red in Clark's eyes quickly faded, returning to a calm blue.
He nodded, said nothing, and his body blurred, disappearing from the spot. Less than half a second later, he reappeared, holding a soft-looking pillow emblazoned with the Bat-symbol.
"Don't play tricks."
Clark shoved the pillow through the supply slot.
Black Adam took the pillow, clutching it to his chest with a complex expression.
He watched the terrifying Superman turn to leave the cell area. After a moment of thought, he suddenly stood up and pressed his face against the bars.
"Wait! Listen to me! That child of yours—he is terrifying! He is not what he seems!" Black Adam's face bore a bizarre mix of fear and urgency.
Clark paused for a moment but didn't look back.
As if grabbing a lifeline, Black Adam spoke rapidly: "He devoured it! He devoured the darkness that was controlling me! It wasn't a defeat; it was a consumption! An absorption! I can feel it! Even that dark power, strong enough to twist the mind of a god, feared him! It was being assimilated by him!"
"I can't even imagine what kind of evil is hidden inside him! Keeping him by your side is like raising a tiger that will eventually devour you!" Black Adam shouted with lingering fear.
Clark finally turned around slowly. There was no surprise or anger on his face. Instead, he wore a... difficult to describe, profoundly helpless expression.
"Are you talking about 'evil' on the level of *The Dark Auntie Falls in Love with the One-Armed Me*, or *The Great Darkness Eavesdrops on My Heart, and the Young Light Wife Gets Angry*?"
He was referring to the private little stories Ian had started writing again once he got bold.
Naturally, Black Adam had no idea what he was talking about.
"??????" Black Adam was completely bewildered. Dark Auntie? One-armed? Young light wife? What in the world was this?! What kind of nonsense was this Kryptonian spewing?
He opened his mouth to continue rambling, attempting to drive a wedge between the father and son—however, the next moment, the old man used the leftover tape to seal his mouth shut.
The Superman moved at super-speed, disappearing and reappearing in an instant, holding that roll of silver duct tape marked "EMERGENCY SEAL" that he had used on Ian earlier.
"Mph?! Mph mph mph!!!" Black Adam tried to back away in horror, but it was too late.
Clark's movements were as fast as lightning, leaving behind afterimages.
He ripped off a long strip of tape and slapped it precisely over Black Adam's mouth. Then, with dizzying speed, he began wrapping it around Black Adam's head like a madman!
One loop, two loops, ten loops, fifty loops... Finally, Clark tied a dead knot and even gave the massive, silver-shimmering taped head a firm pat.
"!!!!!"
Black Adam's entire head, except for his nose, was wrapped like a silver mummy. He could only let out extremely faint, desperate muffled sounds. Clark turned and left, leaving behind Black Adam's muffled, helpless "wuu wuu" echoing weakly against the hum of the energy field.
Clearly, Black Adam was a level below Ian; he didn't know how to grow a second mouth on his stomach or arm.
Walking up the stairs.
Clark arrived at the core research lab on the upper level.
The room was filled with flickering screens and precision instruments. The Injustice Superman was lying flat in the center of a massive device resembling a CT scanner, which was emitting a low, rhythmic hum.
Batman was seated at the main console, his white lenses fixed on the rolling, complex data streams that would make an ordinary person dizzy. His expression was hidden, but his jaw was clenched tight, and... Clark noticed something unusual. Fine beads of sweat were forming on Bruce's forehead, sliding down the edge of his cowl.
This was highly atypical. Bruce only showed physiological reactions like this when facing something extremely troublesome—or something that transcended his understanding.
The Injustice Superman looked even more anxious. He was a Superman, too; he knew Batman. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, his voice carrying a hint of a tremor as he asked repeatedly: "How is it? Bruce? Am I... am I beyond saving? What did that little brat put in my stomach?"
Batman didn't answer; it was as if he hadn't even heard him.
As Clark approached, Bruce snapped his head up, his white lenses meeting Clark's gaze. Even through the mask, Clark could feel the intensity of the complexity in his eyes.
It was almost... weird.
"What's wrong, Bruce?"
Clark's heart tightened. Had Ian really caused some irreversible trouble? Batman's voice, filtered through the modulator, carried a suppressed sense of absurdity and defeat.
"In his stomach..." Bruce paused, as if the words were hard to say. "How should I put this? There is a highly condensed form of pure Angelic Power from the High Heavens."
Clark breathed a sigh of relief.
Angelic power sounded significantly better than darkness.
Ian got along well with angels.
Clark knew that much.
However.
Batman's next words made him freeze.
"Clark, this Angelic Power is vibrating in an extremely stable structure... constantly echoing... a programmed anthem that seems designed to help life gestate."
When he said "Anthem," Batman's voice distorted slightly.
It was as if the word burned his tongue.
Under Clark's confused gaze, Batman seemed to reach a decision. He reached out, pulled the monitoring headphones connected to the console off his ears, and handed them to Clark.
His movement carried a sense of: I won't be the only one to suffer through this.
"Listen for yourself." Batman's voice was full of exhaustion.
Clark looked at the headphones and hesitated. He had super-hearing; he didn't actually need them... In that half-second of hesitation, his super-hearing automatically captured and amplified a faint but distinct singing voice coming from inside the Injustice Superman.
"Hulu Brothers, Hulu Brothers, seven flowers on one vine... twelve babies in one belly..."