Clark threw his orange juice into the trash can with force, feeling that he should not overestimate his blood's and brain's resistance to Gotham's drugs. After all, this was Gotham and he needed to be careful.
Standing next to the trash can, Clark attached a small sports camera to his chest because going any further would take him into the actual slums of Gotham. He didn't believe that the people here would tolerate him arriving with big cameras, thus a small portable camera was the best choice.
The walls of Arkham City were part of a large construction site that had been abandoned halfway through so most of the equipment was still lying around.
Once Clark passed through the wall, he looked towards the other end to make sure there were no crocodiles, hippos, or seagulls before walking over.
As soon as he stepped out from the other side of the construction fence, he heard a burst of noise coming from his right.
Clark turned his head and found two people fighting. Instinctively, he shouted and rushed towards the two, who were pulling and tugging at each other.
Clark grabbed one person's sleeve and pulled them away, then hugged the other and pinned them to the ground. He then reached out a hand and pressed it on the first man's chest to stop him from diving back in.
"Wait! Wait! Stop fighting! What happened here?!" Clark spread his arms between the two, looking left and right.
To the left was a black man with earrings and sunglasses, and to the right was an old white man with a grey and white beard.
The black man was the first to speak, gesticulating wildly, "Hey, listen, you can't stop me, this guy stole my tires, leaving my car with only three wheels. Now my car can't move, I have to teach him a lesson!"
Clark immediately turned to look at the old white man.
"He's obviously lying!" The white man flexed his muscular chest, "Why would I steal his tires?! He's framing me and he even kidnapped my wife, saying he would take her as collateral!"
Clark widened his eyes and looked back at the black man who started rapping at a higher pitch, obscenities pouring into Clark's brain.
"Enough." Clark muttered.
"Tell me, where is the car?" Clark turned to look at both of them, "I will help you find the tires, stop fighting."
Of course, this wouldn't be difficult for him. Even though Clark wasn't a detective like Batman, his super vision and super hearing allowed him to track anything in this world– finding a tire would be a breeze.
However, two minutes later, he retracted his earlier statement because after turning the street corner, he saw a three-wheeled vehicle.
It wasn't a family car that had lost a wheel, but a three-wheeled cart that typically appeared on construction sites. Meanwhile, the two men were still arguing.
"Dude, I have to call you out, didn't we agree to work this job together? There's so much stuff here that no one wants. But now you're getting a bit greedy, I agreed to a a seventy-thirty cut, but now you want to take a car wheel as well?"
"What are you babbling about, you black devil? When did I agree to work a job with you? I said we'd go our separate ways as soon as we climbed over the wall, but then you ran back and said there was a nice car over there. Are you so stupid that you can't tell it's a three-wheeled cart?!"
"It was because you were afraid I would drive this car away by myself, so you removed one of its wheels! You're why we got caught!"
The white man made a speechless gesture and walked in front of Clark, pointing to the black man, "You see, he's so unreasonable, insisting I stole one tire from his car and now he can't sell it for a good price."
Clark was about to speak but then he saw the white man pull a cigarette from his vest pocket, light it, and take a drag while pointing the ground with one leg.
"Nowadays, any kid thinks they can come out and do this job. Ask around Gotham City, which junk car dealer dares to accept original tires? Do they think Batman's tracking devices on tire tracks are decorations?"
"The fool hasn't even driven a car, haha. Who says a car can't drive with three wheels? Those rich blokes change tires every day, they're just too rich and have nowhere to spend their money. What a greenhorn, am I right?"
Clark looked at the three-wheeled cart toppled on the ground, then back at the two men, then back at the cart.
He would definitely not admit that he was having a moment of self-doubt. Or were the Gothamites crafting an innovative way to let this hand-propelled cart "drive"?
A gust of wind brought the smell of smoke. Clark quickly understood what was going on, so he walked up and threw each of these fools to one side with one had holding their collars.
Clark was about to get the overturned cart back up when he heard the white man yell, "What are you doing?! Are you trying to kidnap my wife too? You fucking trafficker!"
Clark halted, glancing back at the old white man, then continued to walk towards the cart. When he circled around, he saw a white urinal next to the cart's front wheel.
Clark instinctively reached out, but pulled his hand back because if his super vision was correct, this urinal had only been taken off a wall about 10 minutes ago and had been used until 13 minutes ago.
The white man scrambled over, pushed past Clark and hugged the urinal. He even waved his hand at Clark and said, "Get out of the way, don't you metropolis people understand privacy? I just rescued her from Batman's watch…"
Then the old white man started unzipping his pants.
Clark swiftly pushed him aside, then looked at his hands with a complex expression.
At that moment, the black man rushed back in, and with a kick shattered the urinal. Then he began to laugh from deep within, "Hahaha! Look! This is what you get for stealing my tire! I will stuff a squirrel in your crotch!"
He then started to try and pull off the old white man's pants as well.
Clark hurriedly stepped in again and kicked him away. Looking at the scattered urinal ruins, coupled with the now loudly crying white man, Clark stood there helplessly.
His mouth dropped open, about to say something, when suddenly, the ground began to shake incessantly.
Clark turned towards the source of the shaking and saw someone driving a compacting machine rushing towards them at a speed no less than 80 mph.
"Move! I'm going to flatten those two!!!"
A black woman perched in the driver's seat howled, "They've stolen 12 urinals in three days! Who do they think they are, Urinal Superman?!!"
Clark's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't conceal his identity any longer. With a whoosh, he flew up and tugged at the rushing compacting machine from behind.
As a result, the weeping old white man suddenly stopped crying, wiped his tears away, and stood up. He rushed straight towards the compacting machine.
Perhaps some have seen a compactor. It's a tractor but the bucket has been replaced with a vertical cylindrical apparatus that repeatedly pounds the ground to compact the soil.
The old white man slid to a stop next to the compactor in a smooth, stylish kneel. Taking off his pants, he proceeded to stuff something into the bottom of the compactor.
Clark landed a flying kick, and at lightning-fast speed flung open the door to the compactor's control room. As his hand hovered above the control panel, he was surprised to find that the switch to halt the machine was missing, only a black hole with a few wires protruding from it remained.
He looked up to find the black woman clutching the switch as she climbed down from the machine. Clark lifted off again, dive-bombed, and smoothly landed in front of the black woman. He crossed his arms, squinted his eyes, and his gaze bounced between the switch and the woman's face.
The next moment, the black woman ripped off her pants and shoved the switch into her underwear.
Clark quickly turned around. When he turned back, the slightly overweight black woman had tripped over the rubble, and the control panel she had ripped off had fallen next to her, but Clark really didn't dare to pick it up.
"Hey! Hey! What the hell are you guys doing?!"
A burly white man donning a safety helmet and a fluorescent vest walked over. He pointed at the crowd and barked, "What are you doing on the construction site? Get out of here now!"
Clark, quite relieved, flew over to him and eagerly asked, "Are you the security guard here? They were trying to steal stuff from the site, and even broke the compactor..."
"What?"
"It's these two...and this one..."
"First question!"
Clark paused, instinctively replying, "Are you the security guard here?"
The white man took off his safety helmet, "No, I'm not. I'm just passing by. I thought shouting like this would be pretty cool."
Clark glanced at his uniform. The man did the same, then took two steps back and shook his head, "I took this off of a cleaner who fell into the trash can. The helmet, I just picked up. Carry on with your thing. I'm going home."
After saying that, he tossed down the helmet and turned to leave. Following this, a shrill female voice came from behind the fence, "What the fuck is going on?!"
Clark turned around and saw another woman in a black vest uniform stride over the pile of debris, "Who the fuck dares to cause a ruckus here?!"
She pulled out a rifle from behind her back, gripped it with both hands, and marched forward. After glancing around, she ordered, "What the hell are you doing? Get out of here now!"
"Um, are you the security guard here?" Clark asked, somewhat hesitantly, as he was worried that she, too, might just be passing by and had stolen the uniform and gun from someone else.
Who knew the woman would glare at him menacingly and flicked at her ID badge hanging on her chest. "I'm not a security guard. Are you? Move it!"
"Hey, you bitch... I'm going to..."
Bang!
The gunshot startled even Clark, but luckily the space within a few meters was enveloped under his biological field, and the bullet was swiftly halted.
Bang!
Seeing that the target didn't fall after the first shot, another bullet was fired without delay, but it was also stopped by Clark.
The black youngster who had tried to curse at the woman found that he wasn't hurt after the shots were fired. He patted himself down, then knelt on the spot and started praying.
Realizing that firing the gun had been ineffective, the female security guard used the rifle barrel to deliver a standard roundhouse swing to the black youngster's head.
"Wait, you can't just kill him like this." Clark hurriedly tried to stop the female security guard. The next moment, his arm received a roundhouse swing.
"Can't you understand? Get lost!"
"Okay, okay, just calm down. But there's so much damage here, we should call the police..."
"I am the fucking police!! Get out!!!"