Clark has something to say
Chapter 12
Buying a pizza is not difficult, but out of resistance to the rich man's stickers, Clark wasted time and dawdled outside for a while.
During this period, he sneaked out three thieves' wallets and stuffed them back into the owner, extinguished a potential fire, stopped two more robberies, and tied them up at the gate of the police station.
The GCPD police were taken aback. They carefully compared the database before they suspiciously stuffed the robber into the police car. Before leaving, Clark heard several police officers muttering quietly that old buildings in Gotham contain lead. , he didn't hear some words clearly.
"... my first... criminal sent by Batman... complete... and able to talk..."
Clark: ...
Batman is really a criminal, right?
When he slowly flew over the pizzeria, he suddenly remembered Damian's surname—a very Arabic pronunciation, which reminded him of the honey-colored skin of a little boy. After thinking about it, he decided to please his future boss.
After all, he will also act as a temporary housekeeper for a period of time.
Clark used super speed, flew to Arabia, picked a restaurant within the budget, and packed the vegetarian food prepared by the boss.
The Kryptonian's biological force field has a strong protective effect. When he returned to Gotham, the heat was still bubbling out round and round, and the unique smell of spices was not diminished by half, and it was no different from when it was just out of the pot.
Considering that Damian may not like this taste, Clark bought another vegan pizza according to Damian's request to be on the safe side.
Perfect, Clark thought solemnly.
Now he needs to find a hidden place to change into Clark Kent's clothes. Fortunately, there are many old buildings in Gotham that look dilapidated. The En Building is very close, and walking out of the alley is the underground warehouse of the Wayne Building.
The window sill outside the attic was already covered with dust, and Clark reckoned that no one had been there for at least a year.
It's a nice hideaway.
He didn't use any force at all, just tried to unscrew the window, but the broken wooden board fell off with a bang, and the iron sheet at the connection had long been corroded by the rain.
Clark shook his head, slanted in through the window, put the board aside, took off the red cloak, and took out the shirt he had prepared a long time ago and put it on.
Glasses, shirts, ties, suit pants... Every time I put on a piece of clothing, my expression will drop a bit.
I don't know how long he will work in this job. Is Bruce Wayne willing to pay him some salary first?At least let him pay the rent first—
Clark slowly tucked one leg into his suit pants, so engrossed in his thoughts that when the door lock clicked, the whole Ultra nearly flew away.
He really can’t be blamed for this, as long as he enters Gotham, his super hearing is semi-ineffective, and in this dilapidated old building, his hearing has been weakened to be no different from that of a human being. For Clark, who always controls the super hearing It is no less than suddenly becoming disabled.
...Without thinking at all, and relying entirely on instinct, Clark squeezed himself into the window, even crushing a few bricks, and the stone powder fell down. He bent his elbows, intending to use the brutal Smash that window.
The orange-brown plaid shirt pierced right under his eyes.
Clark: "..."
Oh, he forgot to change his outfit with one click.
In desperation, he could only pull himself back stiffly. The originally square and narrow window was stretched out into an ellipse, and the lock cylinder popped out lightly, and then fell back down again.
— creaking.
The iron door, which had been in disrepair, made a toothache sound, and then it was suddenly stuck on the floor.
Clark was covered in ashes, his fingers tightly pinching his belt, and at the last moment, he tucked both of his legs into his suit pants in time to avoid the embarrassing scene of exposing the tights.
A hand in a mitt closed the door behind it.
"Hello, door."
Who will greet the door?
Clark swallowed cautiously, for fear that he would meet a Gotham specialty: "Is this where you live, sorry—"
"...Thinking." He paused, uttering the last syllable with difficulty.
This is definitely not a Gotham specialty.
A red head suddenly squeezed through the crack of the door. Clark thought he had seen a mutated Martian. Really, this head looked exactly like the Martian Manhunter, and his facial features were also extremely similar.
No, that looks like a hood.
"Hi, a guest at my house."
——Why can the hood make expressions?
Clark looked at the eyes of the hood in bewilderment, and moved his hands that had no place to rest: "...Hi?"
The person who came had a nice voice and a very polite tone. Maybe he met a Gotham person who could communicate well, Clark thought happily.
...The next second, his jaw froze suddenly, and the black muzzle of the gun hit his mandible without hesitation. The iron door was kicked in two, and he lay on the ground tragically.
"If you don't mind, just tell me why you showed up at my house? Or would you rather have a gun?" The visitor's tone was cold.
Clark: "..."
Okay, this is Gotham.
**
Jason Todd, aka Red Hood, Batman's second Robin, the resurrected ghost, is in a bad mood right now.
He is here for revenge.
Jason Todd's life is a black comedy. On this never-ending train of life, he was first knocked down alive by a clown with a crowbar, but then climbed back by force.
Two hours ago, he had just returned to Gotham, knowing that Batman not only did not avenge him, but even found a new Robin, but the first thing he did after getting off the plane was to sneak into the Batcave.
It sucks.
His torn uniform was put into a glass display case and placed in the most conspicuous place of the Batcave. The cold Batcave had many more traces of life than when he left, and there was even an extra one in his favorite Batmobile. Coffee machine!
Jason took a deep breath, and left Wayne Manor resolutely, for fear that if he got agitated, he would abandon his original plan and go to Wayne Mansion to kidnap Bruce Wayne.
For reasons he didn't want to admit, anyway, instead of staying in a hotel or robbing an old acquaintance's safe house, he chose to go home.
Home, a place of warmth, a place of peace, a safe haven that belongs only to him and is absolutely warm, Jason deliberately stepped lightly, for fear that he would break the decayed wooden stairs.
He pushed open the door contentedly, ready to throw himself on the old mattress—
Ok?
and many more?
Jason stared blankly at the man in the room. He was a muscular man, his shirt was covered in dust, and a white circle mark that was hard to ignore rubbed against his chest, as if he had just been stuck in something.
One hand tugged at his trousers tightly.
pants.
Wrinkled pants.
And under his feet, there is a very divine red cape at first glance.
...The soft and smooth special fabric is the color that he can always see in various media. It is unique. There is only one person in the world whose cloak is made of this material.
—Superman.
Jason: "..."
No one knew how big a storm was in Red Hood's heart in an instant. Under the hood, he couldn't believe his eyes.
Shit, did Superman just fuck this man at his house?
The author has something to say:
Jason Todd, No.1 clay sculpture reporter.
Like him.
感谢在2021-01-2511:22:31~2021-01-2600:19:02期间为我投出霸王票或灌溉营养液的小天使哦~
Thanks to the little angel who threw the mine: 1 small animal of discipline;
Thanks to the little angels of the irrigation nutrient solution: 10 bottles of Ye Rongerbuer; 1 bottle of Songsong;
Thank you very much for your support, I will continue to work hard!
During this period, he sneaked out three thieves' wallets and stuffed them back into the owner, extinguished a potential fire, stopped two more robberies, and tied them up at the gate of the police station.
The GCPD police were taken aback. They carefully compared the database before they suspiciously stuffed the robber into the police car. Before leaving, Clark heard several police officers muttering quietly that old buildings in Gotham contain lead. , he didn't hear some words clearly.
"... my first... criminal sent by Batman... complete... and able to talk..."
Clark: ...
Batman is really a criminal, right?
When he slowly flew over the pizzeria, he suddenly remembered Damian's surname—a very Arabic pronunciation, which reminded him of the honey-colored skin of a little boy. After thinking about it, he decided to please his future boss.
After all, he will also act as a temporary housekeeper for a period of time.
Clark used super speed, flew to Arabia, picked a restaurant within the budget, and packed the vegetarian food prepared by the boss.
The Kryptonian's biological force field has a strong protective effect. When he returned to Gotham, the heat was still bubbling out round and round, and the unique smell of spices was not diminished by half, and it was no different from when it was just out of the pot.
Considering that Damian may not like this taste, Clark bought another vegan pizza according to Damian's request to be on the safe side.
Perfect, Clark thought solemnly.
Now he needs to find a hidden place to change into Clark Kent's clothes. Fortunately, there are many old buildings in Gotham that look dilapidated. The En Building is very close, and walking out of the alley is the underground warehouse of the Wayne Building.
The window sill outside the attic was already covered with dust, and Clark reckoned that no one had been there for at least a year.
It's a nice hideaway.
He didn't use any force at all, just tried to unscrew the window, but the broken wooden board fell off with a bang, and the iron sheet at the connection had long been corroded by the rain.
Clark shook his head, slanted in through the window, put the board aside, took off the red cloak, and took out the shirt he had prepared a long time ago and put it on.
Glasses, shirts, ties, suit pants... Every time I put on a piece of clothing, my expression will drop a bit.
I don't know how long he will work in this job. Is Bruce Wayne willing to pay him some salary first?At least let him pay the rent first—
Clark slowly tucked one leg into his suit pants, so engrossed in his thoughts that when the door lock clicked, the whole Ultra nearly flew away.
He really can’t be blamed for this, as long as he enters Gotham, his super hearing is semi-ineffective, and in this dilapidated old building, his hearing has been weakened to be no different from that of a human being. For Clark, who always controls the super hearing It is no less than suddenly becoming disabled.
...Without thinking at all, and relying entirely on instinct, Clark squeezed himself into the window, even crushing a few bricks, and the stone powder fell down. He bent his elbows, intending to use the brutal Smash that window.
The orange-brown plaid shirt pierced right under his eyes.
Clark: "..."
Oh, he forgot to change his outfit with one click.
In desperation, he could only pull himself back stiffly. The originally square and narrow window was stretched out into an ellipse, and the lock cylinder popped out lightly, and then fell back down again.
— creaking.
The iron door, which had been in disrepair, made a toothache sound, and then it was suddenly stuck on the floor.
Clark was covered in ashes, his fingers tightly pinching his belt, and at the last moment, he tucked both of his legs into his suit pants in time to avoid the embarrassing scene of exposing the tights.
A hand in a mitt closed the door behind it.
"Hello, door."
Who will greet the door?
Clark swallowed cautiously, for fear that he would meet a Gotham specialty: "Is this where you live, sorry—"
"...Thinking." He paused, uttering the last syllable with difficulty.
This is definitely not a Gotham specialty.
A red head suddenly squeezed through the crack of the door. Clark thought he had seen a mutated Martian. Really, this head looked exactly like the Martian Manhunter, and his facial features were also extremely similar.
No, that looks like a hood.
"Hi, a guest at my house."
——Why can the hood make expressions?
Clark looked at the eyes of the hood in bewilderment, and moved his hands that had no place to rest: "...Hi?"
The person who came had a nice voice and a very polite tone. Maybe he met a Gotham person who could communicate well, Clark thought happily.
...The next second, his jaw froze suddenly, and the black muzzle of the gun hit his mandible without hesitation. The iron door was kicked in two, and he lay on the ground tragically.
"If you don't mind, just tell me why you showed up at my house? Or would you rather have a gun?" The visitor's tone was cold.
Clark: "..."
Okay, this is Gotham.
**
Jason Todd, aka Red Hood, Batman's second Robin, the resurrected ghost, is in a bad mood right now.
He is here for revenge.
Jason Todd's life is a black comedy. On this never-ending train of life, he was first knocked down alive by a clown with a crowbar, but then climbed back by force.
Two hours ago, he had just returned to Gotham, knowing that Batman not only did not avenge him, but even found a new Robin, but the first thing he did after getting off the plane was to sneak into the Batcave.
It sucks.
His torn uniform was put into a glass display case and placed in the most conspicuous place of the Batcave. The cold Batcave had many more traces of life than when he left, and there was even an extra one in his favorite Batmobile. Coffee machine!
Jason took a deep breath, and left Wayne Manor resolutely, for fear that if he got agitated, he would abandon his original plan and go to Wayne Mansion to kidnap Bruce Wayne.
For reasons he didn't want to admit, anyway, instead of staying in a hotel or robbing an old acquaintance's safe house, he chose to go home.
Home, a place of warmth, a place of peace, a safe haven that belongs only to him and is absolutely warm, Jason deliberately stepped lightly, for fear that he would break the decayed wooden stairs.
He pushed open the door contentedly, ready to throw himself on the old mattress—
Ok?
and many more?
Jason stared blankly at the man in the room. He was a muscular man, his shirt was covered in dust, and a white circle mark that was hard to ignore rubbed against his chest, as if he had just been stuck in something.
One hand tugged at his trousers tightly.
pants.
Wrinkled pants.
And under his feet, there is a very divine red cape at first glance.
...The soft and smooth special fabric is the color that he can always see in various media. It is unique. There is only one person in the world whose cloak is made of this material.
—Superman.
Jason: "..."
No one knew how big a storm was in Red Hood's heart in an instant. Under the hood, he couldn't believe his eyes.
Shit, did Superman just fuck this man at his house?
The author has something to say:
Jason Todd, No.1 clay sculpture reporter.
Like him.
感谢在2021-01-2511:22:31~2021-01-2600:19:02期间为我投出霸王票或灌溉营养液的小天使哦~
Thanks to the little angel who threw the mine: 1 small animal of discipline;
Thanks to the little angels of the irrigation nutrient solution: 10 bottles of Ye Rongerbuer; 1 bottle of Songsong;
Thank you very much for your support, I will continue to work hard!
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