Chapter 9: Journey to Gotham
Luka neither nodded immediately nor refused outright. Instead, his fingertips unconsciously rubbed against the lingering fish scale slime on his palm.
Every sudden proposal concealed hidden considerations, even one from Tom, who had been relatively kind to him over the past week.
"Why are you asking this so suddenly?" Luka's voice remained calm, revealing no emotional fluctuation.
"Superheroes... to me, they're just labels Earthlings use to categorize 'special groups.'"
Tom set down his fishing rod, turned, and retrieved a clean rag from the cabin. He methodically wiped the water stains from the ship's railing.
He didn't rush to answer. Only after the railing was spotless did he turn back to face Luka.
"You want to live on Earth long-term, right?" Tom's tone remained gentle.
Luka gave a slight nod.
His initial reason for fleeing Viltrum was to escape the endless slaughter and find a place where he could live peacefully.
Though Earth's situation remained unclear, it was ultimately his spiritual "homeland" and currently his best option.
"If you want to stay here long term, you need a legitimate identity," Tom continued, his tone growing heavier.
"Without an identity, you can't work or travel normally. But even more problematic than lacking an identity is your origin."
He paused, his gaze lingering on the faint scars on Luka's chest, before continuing.
"Your civilization's values are almost completely antithetical to Earth's."
"Right now, only a few people know you exist. But once your true origins become widely known, how do you think Earthlings will react?"
Luka's eyelids lowered slightly. He was well aware that if the Viltrumites' reputation for brutality spread, Earthlings would likely find it difficult to accept him.
"Think about Superman," Tom said.
"As you know, he's never shied away from discussing his origins in interviews. His home planet was destroyed long ago, posing no threat whatsoever."
"Moreover, he grew up on Earth, with a deep-seated goodwill toward humanity. Yet even with all that, how many people have truly accepted him?"
In news reports, the red-and-blue-clad Superman always rushed to the front lines to save people.
But the comment sections were rife with skepticism. Some called him an alien spy, others worried about him losing control and bringing disaster to Earth, and some even urged the government to monitor him.
Luka frowned. He couldn't entirely blame them. If he were an Earthling with no understanding of Superman's true nature, he would be worried too.
But given his current position, the native Earthlings would likely classify him as even worse than Superman.
"He's powerful enough to easily override any law or rule on Earth," Tom said.
"It's like when you were catching fish in the sea earlier. Whether you meant to catch a few fish for lunch or just wanted to experience fishing, those fish would panic the moment you approached. Some would even be crushed by accident."
"That's the nature of your and Superman's power."
Tom pointed to the calm sea in the distance.
"Unless you never use your abilities again, perhaps you could live like me, working at sunrise and resting at sunset. But can you really do that?"
Luka looked down at his unconsciously clenched fist.
This power had been forged in the blood and fire of Viltrum, the very foundation of his survival.
For Luka as he was now, abandoning this power would be as difficult as giving up breathing.
Moreover, if Viltrum's pursuers ever caught up to him, without his strength, he would be completely defenseless.
"When you were soaring high above the ocean, those fish had no idea what you were about to do, but their fates were already shifting because of your mere presence."
"Using your superpowers is like placing yourself in that high-altitude position. To ensure ordinary people don't fear or reject you, you must give them a reason to accept you."
"Superheroes are that reason."
Tom finally revealed the core of his argument.
He meant showing ordinary people through actions that this power wasn't a threat, but a guardian.
"Of course, this path will be difficult. You'll face countless doubts and attacks. But it's currently the most suitable path for you."
Luka stood on the fishing boat, gazing at the boundless sea, lost in thought.
Tom's words made perfect sense.
If he wanted a stable life on Earth, he had to cross the two chasms of being an "alien" and coming from "Viltrum."
But the thought of being like Superman on TV, making it his duty to protect others at all times, triggered an instinctive resistance in Luka.
His escape from Viltrum had been precisely to break free from a predetermined fate, to avoid being a pawn for anyone or anything.
The sea wind blew for a long time, but Luka remained silent.
Tom didn't press him. He simply picked up his fishing rod again and resumed fishing in silence, as if his earlier suggestion had been nothing more than casual conversation.
It wasn't until the setting sun had painted the sea crimson and gold that Luka finally spoke, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
"I need more time to think about it."
"No problem. You have plenty of time to consider it."
Tom set down his fishing rod, a gentle smile spreading across his face, though there was a hint of cunning in his eyes.
"But there's something I need to be clear about. I'm just a small-time fisherman. I can't support you for the rest of your life."
Luka paused, then realized what Tom was implying.
This was Tom's subtle way of urging him to make a decision, a reminder that he couldn't hide in this safe haven forever.
He nodded without argument.
"I know someone who might be able to help you resolve your identity issues temporarily."
Tom began packing up his fishing gear and tidying the boat.
Luka's curiosity piqued.
"Who?"
"You'll find out when we get there."
Tom kept his answer vague as he carried the neatly packed gear into the cabin.
"Let's head back and pack our things. We'll set sail tonight."
Back at the cottage, Luka quickly gathered his belongings.
There wasn't much to pack, just a few sets of clothes Tom had bought him.
Tom, meanwhile, rummaged through the storage room and found a rusty car key. He then grabbed a rag and wiped down an old, beat-up pickup truck parked outside.
The truck's body was covered in scratches, and the tires were somewhat deflated, making it look at least a decade old.
Tom inserted the key and twisted it forcefully several times. The engine sputtered and rattled before finally roaring to life, belching out a cloud of black exhaust.
"Don't let its looks fool you," Tom said, patting the steering wheel. "It still runs steady as a rock."
Luka climbed into the passenger seat. As soon as he closed the door, he felt a layer of dust on the seat. He grabbed the rag from beside him and wiped it off before opening the navigation map spread across the dashboard.
To be honest, this whole setup felt rather old-fashioned.
After searching the map for a while and asking a few questions, Luka finally learned that Tom's seaside cabin was actually located in the suburbs of Metropolis.
Metropolis, the very city where Superman operated.
Luka's heart skipped a beat. He glanced at Tom, who was backing the truck out of the driveway. "Are you taking me to seek refuge with Superman?"
Tom paused mid maneuver, then shook his head.
"No."
Once the pickup truck was on the road, it headed straight toward the city center.
At a fork in the road, Tom didn't take the route to downtown Metropolis. Instead, he turned onto the highway leading to Gotham City.
"Gotham?" Luka frowned.
Even without watching the news, the scraps of memory from his previous life told him what kind of hellhole that place was.
A city with an infamously high crime rate, perpetually shrouded in darkness, stood in stark contrast to the sun-drenched metropolis of Metropolis.
Still, it did seem like the sort of place that could accommodate all kinds of unsavory figures.
The pickup truck drove through the night for nearly two hours before finally reaching downtown Gotham City.
The atmosphere here was completely different from Metropolis. The streets were thick with a suffocating tension, and the neon lights cast eerie reflections on the damp pavement.
Tom drove the pickup truck and eventually stopped in front of a towering skyscraper.
Wayne Enterprises.
Luka was stunned.
Tom brought him here?
"We're here," Tom said, turning off the engine.
"This is Wayne Enterprises. The person you recommended works here?" Luka asked, puzzled.
He already had a pretty good idea of what was going on, but what was Tom's background? How did he know Superman and Batman?
"I know Superman, and Superman knows Batman."
As Tom spoke, he rolled down the car window.
"What few people know is that Bruce Wayne, the big boss of Wayne Enterprises, secretly knows Batman. He can help you."
Luka's face remained expressionless, but inwardly he rolled his eyes. Tom's explanation was about as subtle as a brick to the face.
Before Luka could say anything, Tom was already ushering him out.
"Go on in. Bruce Wayne will be waiting for you inside. I have other business to attend to, so I won't accompany you."
After Luka reluctantly got out of the car, Tom waved goodbye and drove off in his beat-up pickup truck without looking back.
Luka watched the truck's taillights disappear into the night, sighing helplessly.
Turning to face the magnificent building before him, he felt momentarily at a loss.
Luka didn't really want to interact with that guy, whom he remembered as a gloomy, unsmiling, and utterly boring man.
Just as Luka was about to turn and leave, the building's revolving doors suddenly opened.
A tall, middle-aged man in a black suit strode out. His hair was meticulously combed, and a warm smile graced his face.
His demeanor was striking. There was the calm authority of a powerful capitalist, layered with a subtle, efficient sharpness beneath.
The man's gaze immediately locked onto Luka. He strode over and extended a hand first.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Bruce Wayne. I believe the person who sent you here has already told you a bit about me."
(End of chapter)