Which one is better if the officials are forced to die together [Comprehensive British and American]

Connor leaned over the window and looked out.

This is the headquarters of the Ayer Group. Alexander told him that this is Karl's office. Although Karl has stepped into this room a handful of times, it is actually Karl's office. Many of the records need to be signed by Karl—but of course he did not Signed - document.

And what Karl had given Alexander.

"I've never heard daddy mention this place." Connor said, "I didn't know daddy had a company either."

"I guess it's because he doesn't think it's important. He prioritizes telling you what he thinks is important and has to tell you," Alexander said.

He opened the drawer.

Connor turned to Alexander: "Is there something important he didn't tell me that I didn't have to know?"

"..."

"That seems like a lot." Connor shook his head decently, "That's how it is, my lord."

"You don't seem to have that many problems in front of Karl."

"I don't want to ask him questions," Connor replied quickly. "I want to be with him. What are you doing?"

"This is a gift from Karl for you."

Connor immediately jumped from the window and rushed to Alexander's side.His speed was already very fast, but his control of power was not yet in place, and he couldn't stop the car at the end of the rush. It was Alexander who stretched out his hand to block Connor, so that he avoided the end of the wall being smashed through by the little boy.

"What is it?" Connor asked impatiently, staring at the box in Alexander's hand.

He was disappointed to find that the gift box had a lead compartment.

"I don't know." Alexander handed the box to Connor, "Take your gift, let's go."

"Where are you going?" Connor happily began to pull the bow on the box.

"Go to the funeral."

In the Rex Building, after taking a deep breath, Moxi rang the boss's office.

The door opened.

Lex was standing just behind the door, and Mercy only glanced at it briefly before looking down, not looking at the boss's expression.

They walked into the elevator silently.

As the elevator descended, Lex suddenly asked, "Do you think I did something wrong, Mercy?"

Mercy's heart skipped a beat, but fortunately, working for Lex all year round allowed her to understand her boss not only very well, but also to a point.

"...I think you know what you're doing and don't need anyone else to judge," she whispered. "My opinion doesn't matter, Boss."

After saying this, she held her breath and waited for a long time, not knowing what she was expecting.

But whatever it was she wanted, her expectations were undoubtedly thwarted.

Lex didn't say a word.

The Goddess of Death talks a lot—Carl thinks that the Goddess might be too boring, although the words "Death" would feel boring sounds very strange, after all, people step into her world every moment.

"Not everyone can talk to me," said Death, "and not everyone can see me many times: except Wade."

"You like him?" Carl heard something.

"He has an immortal body, but he loves death itself madly, and I am an aggregation of the concept of death, so yes, he loves me." Death said, "He should belong to me, but always from my Run away. Do I like him? Why don't you tell me."

"I don't know," Carl said honestly.

Talking to death made him feel peaceful, so strange, the more he realized his own death, the more relaxed and drowsy, but at the same time, another inexplicable, rootless premonition flooded him. Tensioned, and the more he became aware of his own mortality, the more he longed for life.

His memories were still fragmented, and when he put them together, he was surprised to find that part of the memory was not his own.

Although the person in the memory has almost exactly the same face as him, the memory of the other party is from the perspective of a bystander... It's like watching the life of a brother.

"Do I still have an older brother?" Karl asked uncertainly, "or a younger brother?" Since the memories related to the other party started from the time when he was just a baby.

"No." Death gave a negative reply, "You are the only son."

"I saw another person. His whole life. He was all I could think about," Carr said. "He looked like me."

"his name is?"

"Kal. El... Clark Kent."

"Oh." Death's voice was smiling, "Can you see him? So many things have been explained."

Carl noticed changes around him. He saw an endless cornfield, a country house, a pair of kind parents and a little boy cared for by them.

He saw everything that happened to the little boy.

Five or six years old.Run and laugh in the farmland, and play games with small animals.

Eleven or twelve years old.Help parents with the tricky job of masking their cleverness in the classroom.

20s.Leaving the small town, studying for further studies, and then came to the metropolis.

30s.Use your own abilities to help others, experience confusion and confusion, think about yourself, and finally become a superman.

What a great life.

"He deserves respect," Carr said.

"You agree with him?"

"No." Carl shook his head, "He's too pure."

He looked at Clark as if he were looking at another person, but also as if he was looking at himself.He had a lot to say—he had a lot to say, and these words didn't seem to come to him at all, they had been stored in his heart for a long time.

"He acted more like a god than a man, and he did have the power to be called a 'god', but his heart was too weak. He was too obsessed with life, which is the reason for his greatness, but this That's why he's weak."

"He is not like a god," replied Death softly.

"Yes." Carl smiled.

He nodded and shook his head, silent and sighed:

"He's not like a god at all. He's not like a real god—a powerful, purely regular, conceptual creature like you. He's like a 'god' in the human eye."

Where does God have the distinction between "character" and "good or bad"?

Be it benevolence, justice, or morality, those good qualities endowed by gods are all man-made concepts, things imposed on "gods" by people.

Some weird emotions surged in Carl's heart. He looked at Clark, who was sitting on the top of a tall building and overlooking quietly, with his body relaxed and slightly tilted. A strand of disobedient curly hair.

The little curly hair shook.

Startled, Carl took a step back, meeting Clark's eyes.

Clark looked a little confused, as if surprised by what happened just now, and a little unsure.

"I just……"

"You can touch him," said Death.

Carl doesn't speak anymore, he looks at Clark, and Clark "looks" at him.

"I have a very unusual feeling," Carl said.

"I don't agree with him. He uses his excesses to highlight the ugliness, but I respect him; I don't worship him. On the contrary, I sympathize with him because he complicates things that can be solved easily, but I want to be he."

"Of course he can't be infallible, but I want to measure myself against him."

"He did a lot of things that were completely unrealistic, but those things just made me love him more."

"He's like... my father, my brother."

Carl paused for a moment.

"But he's not. I know," Carl said. "My father is Jor-El, and my brother is Brainiac."

He stopped looking at Clark and turned his head away.

After getting in the car, Connor couldn't wait to open his gift: it was a book, a picture book of fairy tales.

The picture book of "Nightingale".

He turned the first page, and the nightingale popped out of the book. He turned back, and the emperor's palace stood in the middle of the page—this is not only a picture book, but also a three-dimensional book.

"Wow." Connor became excited, "Daddy made this for me! I know his writing!"

Alexander did not speak.

"Is the painting also drawn by Daddy himself?" Connor turned to another page, and then he stopped turning, and happily closed the book, "I'll wait for Daddy to come back and read it together!"

Alexander still didn't speak.

Connor didn't think there was any problem either. Alexander was not as gentle and considerate in front of him as he was in front of Carl. The way he taught Connor was simple and rough, and that was his nature.

"Whose funeral are we going to?" Connor finally remembered this after singing, "There are so many people."

Indeed, there were few cars on this street, but the stream of people was converging in the direction they were going, and everyone wore black veils on their arms.

Alexander still didn't speak.

The car drove towards the deserted road blocked by the army. After seeing Alexander's license plate, they opened the roadblock and let the car pass.

"Put your hat on," Alexander said at last, explaining, "He'll make you look less like Superman."

The Flash storms the halls of the Justice League.

"What do you think I saw?" he exclaimed. "You can't imagine what I saw!"

Behind him, Alexander walked in with Connor.

Connor didn't like the way everyone looked at him, full of shock, astonishment, and disbelief, as well as pity and sympathy—he knew most of these people, and Papa showed him the information, but he didn't like them.

He was beginning to regret not putting on his hat as Alexander had said.

He found a familiar person.

"Sister Dale!" he called, running excitedly to Diana's side. "Are you coming to the funeral too?"

"..." Diana didn't know what to say.

Now, even if he was as insensitive as Connor, he could vaguely sense that something was wrong.

As soon as he looked away from Diana's face, he spotted Cal lying in front of him.

"Daddy's not breathing," he said.

He looked at Diana, but Diana didn't look at him.

"Daddy has no heartbeat either." He was puzzled, and looked at Alexander as if asking for help.

Alexander approached Connor slowly and said, "Because he's dead."

"...Oh." Connor frowned in confusion, "Then when will daddy wake up? He promised to read to me."

He put the handmade book he had just received on Carl's chest, then went to pull Carl's hand, and put Carl's hand on the writing to press it down.

The temperature of that hand surprised him: "Will Daddy be this cold after he dies?"

Alexander knelt down and asked him softly, "Do you know what 'dead' means, Connor?"

"No breathing, no heartbeat, and still very cold." Connor said immediately, he thought for a while, and added, "It's much more uncomfortable than I thought. I thought it was similar to falling."