Clark has something to say

Clark stroked the needle in his hand.

fear?

Fear is the means by which Batman lives and deters criminals. Bruce Wayne lives himself as a symbol and dedicates himself to the shadow——

However, when Bruce Wayne is exposed to the sun, everyone will know that Batman is just a human being.

He looks at Bruce again...or Batman.

The man was wearing appropriate soft cloth, his face was pale, and his body was covered with injuries. Even after sleeping, the fatigue still weighed heavily on him.

He could dim those blue eyes anytime he wanted, leaving Bruce lying lifeless and motionless on the bed.

What is there to be afraid of such a person?

Bruce asked sharply: "You want to remove my bionic device because the Supreme Head of State is worried that an unarmed human being can threaten your great rule?"

He desperately put all his chips on the arrogance of the rulers. Too much power will make them unconsciously look down on human beings.

Bruce stared at the god in front of him without hesitation. Although he was absolutely weak, he looked extremely calm.

Clark hasn't changed much from before.

Or rather, exactly the same.

In just a few years, he has noticed that his energy has declined significantly, but time has given special preferential treatment to this group of high gods, leaving no trace.

It's just that the blue eyes that could be seen clearly at a glance before became more and more unpredictable.

Then, he felt the fingers pressing on his back began to exert pressure slowly, the bone was already too fragile, in a trance, he seemed to hear that crisp sound again.

He forced himself to concentrate.

Now, the bone is still fine.

Bruce didn't give up hope, he kept his voice calm and mean: "Clark, I thought you were at least a little bit better, but now, the ruler above—"

— creaking.

The man's eyelashes trembled suddenly, and the well-organized sentence suddenly got stuck.

Clark smiled slightly: "What's wrong?"

Bruce's body froze, like a rabbit being held in the mouth by a beast, the overwhelming chill hit him from all directions.

The arc of the God of the World's lips deepened a bit, and he ordered peacefully: "Speak."

The smile that originally symbolized warmth and hope made Bruce's heart convulse and freeze into a stone.

The sixth sense frantically screamed for him to escape, his eyes were firmly glued into Superman's cold blue eyes, and the severe pain from his back made him on the verge of collapse.

He really couldn't afford to have his spine broken for the third time, and it was all up to his luck to stand up again with the bionic device, but it was unknown whether this precision instrument would be able to function normally if it was completely broken and reinstalled.

What's more, in the Hall of Justice, there is no bionic device to replace it.

If he becomes useless...

Clark said softly, "Bruce, what do you want to say?"

Bruce closed his eyes and tried his best to suppress the trembling of his body. He had a wooden face, paused every word, and his voice was clear.

"...just a terrified little boy."

Every second seems to be extended infinitely, part of the soul is withdrawn, waiting for the ending in fear——

After a long time, the god on earth asked playfully, "Really?"

He withdrew his hand, with a deep smile in his voice: "I thought you wouldn't be afraid."

**

Bruce leaned against the head of the bed expressionlessly, his arm was held by Clark, and the sharp needle pierced the skin bit by bit.

Although the process was not smooth, his spine was preserved.

The cold liquid was pushed into his body, and he didn't bother to continue to control his heartbeat, so the heart was happily jumping in shock.

The cold sweat oozing from the back was cold and sticky.

He knew that this matter was a turnaround.

Clark glanced at him, and after a while, glanced at him again,

Bruce was tired of being watched, and wanted to get angry, but the previous incident still left a lot of shadows on him, and he didn't dare to continue provoking for a while, he turned his face and looked at the white wall opposite.

...Is it necessary to push this crap so slowly?

He looked at the needle again, watching the liquid disappear at a snail's pace unbearably. After a while, he stretched out his hand and pressed it on Clark's wrist.

"I will do it myself."

Without waiting for Clark's consent, Bruce used a little trick to grab the syringe and push it in.

After the injection, there was no place to put the empty syringes. This room was really cleaned up by Clark. Bruce paused, his eyes fell on his pillow.

... Out of sight, out of mind, just stuff it under the pillow.

A powerful hand appeared in his vision, and Bruce pressed his tongue against the deep teeth: "Here you are."

The Kryptonian took it, turned and walked out the door.

The moment the door closed, he threw off the quilt, but almost a second later, as soon as his feet touched the ground, the god on earth came back again.

Seeing the quilt thrown on the ground, he was not angry. He squatted down, picked it up, folded it neatly, and leaned against Bruce's back.

This quilt was originally there, but he seldom sleeps, and usually just lies on the bed and basks in the sun.

As he moved, Bruce said abruptly, "Can I get out?"

Of course, the dark knight didn't know anything about what happened to him, but he really hated this white and dazzling room.

The yellow sun device above the head is too bright, it's okay to stay for a while, but after a long time, the whole body becomes weak from the sun, and the surrounding walls are too white, and you will feel dizzy if you look at it for a long time.

Clark didn't mean to discuss at all: "No."

Bruce hummed with his nose, looked up at the top of his head, and explained slowly: "I mean, can I leave your room first, the Hall of Justice is so big, you can always give me a place to stay."

Clark nodded: "No."

Bruce was speechless.

Clark's room didn't look like this before, it was full of rags from small metropolitan apartments, and the social animal reporter couldn't understand the model house designed by Bruce, but he didn't have the money to buy new furniture, so he could only touch the soft furnishings.

I don't know if it's Krypton or Kansas.

Bruce pushed open the door once and walked in, stunned—every piece of furniture was clothed, and Superman held up two knitting needles, happily knitting lace on the knitting covers.

It's not what it looks like now.

He suspected that this was another way Kryptonians tortured people, and being locked up here was really not as good as being locked up in a dungeon—it was all the same to him, as long as it wasn't too bright.

Bruce hesitated for a moment, and asked in a good voice, "Then can you bring me something in?"

"You can check whatever you want, I swear it doesn't mean anything else, but Clark, I'm a human being who needs to maintain basic survival."

He pointed to the bedside: "Look, if I want to drink water, there's not even a place to put a cup."

Clark said flatly, "What do you want?"

Bruce really wanted to say that you just move the original things back. He was silent for a few seconds and began to make a list: "Tables, chairs, bedside tables, lamps..."

Clark's expression was subtle, and he listened to him, and went away inexplicably.

By the time he reacted, Bruce had already counted bits and pieces of small items: "Towels, toothbrushes..."

Seeing Clark looking at him again, the fear that had finally fallen was aroused again. He took a deep breath and said nonchalantly, "If possible, I would like a few more books."

Clark: "Yeah."

Unexpectedly, the other party agreed so happily, Bruce was stunned for a few seconds: "... fitness equipment?"

Clark: "..."

He could see that Bruce was quite frightened by his previous behavior—like a cat that was picked up by its tail and kicked hard, curled up tightly, and would run away as soon as he had the chance. open.

This look is much more pleasing to the eye, Clark thought.

Bruce really should learn how to show weakness, if he is not so stubborn, if he is not so unreasonable...

"...a cable TV missing from the wall."

Clark's thoughts were interrupted, he heard the expectation from Bruce's voice, lowered his head, and looked squarely with those blue eyes.

The face of the god on earth darkened a little: "Don't push yourself too far."

Bruce: "...oh."

He withdrew his gaze and slowly moved his body: "That's all."

Seeing those slightly dull blue eyes and the uneasiness that the other party thought he had hidden well, Clark felt something tickled his heart again.

Not too happy anyway.

Bruce: "..."

He no longer intends to irritate anyone, he just wants to show his harmlessness and fragility, and be an ordinary human being without any offensive power.

Fortunately, he wasn't taken away by Diana. If it was Clark, he could still make some extra demands. He had no doubt that if he had been replaced before, he would be lying on the bed in a miserable state.

Short-term tasks are expected to become long-term tasks.

Hope Luthor finds a chance to visit him.

Lex Luthor, who is deeply trusted by the Supreme Head of State, is actually a member of the Rebel Army.

Bruce's flow chart was originally to be thrown into a cell - tortured - get a ring from any lanternman - get DNA and leave.

As a result, he didn't follow the correct operation from the beginning. He had a headache to speculate on Clark's mind. It seemed that all his previous understanding had been wasted. At least for now, he didn't understand why the Kryptonian's mood changed so quickly——

...and, bending over Superman was harder than he'd imagined.