Clark has something to say

Clark was speechless.

What is your own choice - what if your father finds out and tries to restore you to your original appearance?

Who knows what weird places Bruce can go to find weird acquaintances-in short, Batman is very unscientific, can another beating of Darkseid turn Damian back?

He stared at Damian's face.

It has to be said that Damian's appearance is very superior, he is very similar to Bruce, and has inherited Thalia's beauty to sharpness.

No one would confuse him with a young Bruce because of his temperament.

Bruce is committed to being a bastard at this age, the real one, his rebellious period was once taught by the elders of all rich families as a negative example to educate their children, and Gotham's largest serious media is heartbroken to use him as an example to appeal to the whole society When caring about the healthy growth of minors——

Bruce drove his own luxury sports car, smashed the door of this media with precision, then put his arms around a group of underage girls, and sprayed the head and face of the person in charge with champagne.

The reason why the Gotham media has always accepted Baby Bruce's absurd deeds well is because they have experienced a thousand times more absurdity than this.

Damian is different, he looks like a sharp knife, it is better that he is a weapon, seeing him absolutely cannot think of anything soft.

Clark thought about it carefully, and found that Damian had always had this kind of temperament, but he was a little restrained when he was Robin, but now he is sharper than when he was sent to Gotham by Thalia, as if he lost himself scabbard.

Clark hesitated: "Damian, I know we're not familiar yet, but..."

Damian didn't let him continue to be polite: "What do you want to know?"

Clark snapped his shell.

The green-eyed youth unscrewed the Coke and took a sip, frowned briefly, screwed back the lid, and stuffed the Coke back into Clark's hand very smoothly: "I want coffee."

The whole movement was completely unconscious.

Clark blinked, a little confused.

He didn't remember being on good terms with Damian enough that he could... ask him for coffee?

But he honestly took out another coin, and when he was choosing coffee from the vending machine, Damian said again: "Don't □□."

Clark looked back at him, his eyes full of "why do you have so many troubles" in his eyes.

But he thoughtfully opened the can ring for Damian, and then handed it to him. After such a small episode, he felt that the atmosphere became more natural, so he tried to bring the topic back.

He considered the language for a while, but felt that no euphemism was appropriate.

And Damian's indifferent expression was scary.

"So, what's the reason?" In the end, he gave up detours and got straight to the point: "It stands to reason that nothing bad has happened recently that requires you to elevate yourself a lot."

Damian hooked his lips coldly: "Maybe."

Clark: "..."

Whoever came to save him would have known that he would not have stopped Bruce and let the father and son resolve their conflicts by themselves. His eyes wandered for a while, while Damian silently raised his hand and put the coffee to his mouth.

This action of his made the large sleeve robe fall a little.

Clark's eyes focused sharply, and the other party's graceful forearm was stained with dried blood.

"On you..." Clark felt a strong premonition in his heart. He took a step forward and picked up the other party's burqa. Only then did he realize why Damian was wearing a large black robe with a hood ——

The clothes inside him were covered with large patches of dark red, and the back of his neck was covered by hair, but somehow, Clark didn't smell the unique rusty smell of blood.

"I didn't kill anyone." Damian pulled back his clothes in displeasure, and asked peacefully, "It's not blood either. You look very frightened."

Clark opened his mouth: "Sorry, I thought..."

"I lied to you." The other party answered, his voice still flat and straight.

Because of Clark's indescribable expression, Damian showed a half-smile expression, somewhere between a kind of depraved pleasure and eagerness, Clark had seen the kind of drug addicts who were addicted to drugs, and they gave him the feeling It's about the same as Damian at this time.

Clark wiped his face: "It's not funny at all."

He knew now what a huge mess he had inherited.

"Of course I can't accept it, because we abide by...principles." He paused, looking for some more precise words.

Damian crossed his arms and looked up with strange green eyes: "Continue."

This is not a good place to talk, Clark thought. He looked outside and at the same time pulled Damian's forearm to signal them to change places, but the other party was staggered by him.

Clark let go with a blank face.

He made sure that he didn't use much strength, even if he pulled it normally, Louise would not be staggered by him wearing high heels.

Holding the back of Damian's head, he forcefully forced him to raise his head, and found that the calmness of those green eyes was just an appearance—the brat acted like he was on high.

"Let go!" Damian forcefully opened his hand, and put the hood back on his head again: "I inhaled some medicine, and it will take a while to completely metabolize it."

"I'm going to the Fortress of Solitude," he announced to Clark, repeating loudly: "I'm going to the Fortress of Solitude!"

Clark was taken aback.

He suspected that Damian had misidentified the person, or had hallucinated him as Bruce, and it was frightening for Damian to use Damian's intimacy: "Okay, okay."

Damian stared at him inexplicably for a few seconds, then jumped to another place: "What did you want to say just now?"

Clark: "I think I should take you home first."

A beam of cold light flashed across Clark's eyes, and the bright dagger directly poked Clark's chest, and he was knocked out.

The Man of Steel was unscathed, but Clark's plaid shirt was punctured. Damian's hand was numb from the reaction force. He simply let go of his fingers, and the dagger fell to the ground with a clang.

Damian's body swayed, his footsteps were a little unsteady, he stumbled a few steps back, leaned his back against the wall, and said calmly and concisely: "Shut up."

Clark: "..."

It turns out that peace is also false.

He didn't get angry because he was poked, so why bother with someone who is obviously not sober?But he couldn't understand that he just said "go home" and caused such a big reaction from the other party.

But after being treated like this, he was not as good-tempered as before. Clark stretched out his hand and waved it in front of Damian: "Two options."

"I'll take you to the Fortress of Solitude, let AI analyze your blood composition, or an apartment in a metropolis, and wait for your metabolism to end."

Damian ignored him.

"Another option." He took out his mobile phone: "I'll find someone to take you out of here."

Damian reflexively went to grab his phone, but Super was faster, and Clark was glared at him viciously.

"You're not allowed to go anywhere," he said haughtily.

Clark: "..."

He laughed at the other party's irrationality, and the sense of powerlessness he was familiar with when he got along with Damian reappeared. Because of the alliance affairs, he had dealt with Robin a lot.

"I'm leaving." Clark deliberately paused for a few seconds, and received a terrifying glance from the other party: "If you want me to stay, give me a reason."

Damian stared at him blankly.

"Then I'm leaving." Clark turned around, and before he could take a step, his neck collided with the metal again. He lowered his head, and Damian held a bat dart in his backhand and pressed it against his Adam's apple.

Clark: "..."

This person has to be replaced, and it is estimated that they have died countless times.

He sighed, took that hand, moved it a little farther away from him forcibly, then opened his fingers, took the batarang away, leaned down again, pushed Damian's burqa back, and put it back on again. camera bag.

Damian lowered his eyes and looked at the broad shoulders of the god on earth: "You are not allowed to go anywhere."

This time, Clark heard a strong sense of bewilderment and loss, but Clark's mood is the same now—why does Damian treat him like Bruce?

It's not exactly the same treatment as Bruce. Damian is different from the Dick that Clark is familiar with. Dick is good at using requests to achieve his own goals, while Damian is purely giving orders, although he sounds like a wet dog. Da's kitten doesn't change the fact that he actually gave orders.

"Okay." Clark spread his hands helplessly: "Listen to you."

Damian lowered his head and stared blankly for a while.

After a while, he asked abruptly, "Why did you let me stay?"

Clark: "Huh? Let you stay? If you mean me taking you back—because you don't want to go back to Wayne Manor?"

He purposely made the key words vague, but Damian raised his voice angrily: "Is there something wrong with your Pulitzer?"

Damian closed his eyes, he was so confused that he didn't even know where he was, it was not easy to maintain normal thinking, and it was almost impossible to be logical - he actually wanted to ask Kar-El why he allowed him to join alliance.

His father—no, he had been tamed by Batman to the point where he had to find a place to go back to, and he had believed in Batman, but they were completely torn apart after Grayson died.

And he still needed a place to go back to.

That's when Clark takes him in without hesitation, and in that memory, Clark tries to play the role of his father, silly but not obnoxious.

So the self added a few weights to the balance that belonged to Superman, but when Grayson reappeared, the weight of these weights was negligible-he stayed because other than Injustice nowhere to go.

But that doesn't mean Superman can leave.

Damian's chaotic thoughts left only one clear thought.

He can withdraw and leave, but with Clark he must have the right to go back at any time.

Clark was inexplicably attacked on the level of literature, he shrugged, still did not understand what Damian was tossing about, but following the logical chain of this question, there is only one answer.

Clark: "—because you're Bruce's son?"

In the next second, his sixth sense frantically called the police.