The faces in the crowd still bore a look of half-belief, yet no one spoke up to question him again.
Local rescue teams and police soon arrived on the scene to take the passengers away, while Superman once again flew into the sky under the watchful eyes of the crowd.
Soren silently walked back to his seat amidst the taco shop customers and employees who were all looking up in awe. His good mood had vanished completely.
He took out his phone and opened Twitter and Facebook, scrolling for a while. News about the events in Manhattan from yesterday had flooded social media, with everyone discussing Superman's changes. Various conspiracy theories filled the air, almost sentencing Superman in the court of public opinion.
Soren frowned, growing increasingly frustrated as he scrolled. Just as he was about to retaliate against someone trending wildly on Twitter, a large hand covered his screen.
—It was Clark, now in his regular clothes and wearing black-framed glasses, standing to his left and looking down at him.
Without thinking, Soren instinctively turned off his phone screen.
Clark observed his actions silently, saying nothing, but he squatted down to Soren's level and patiently asked, "Why aren't you eating? Is it not to your taste?"
"I don't feel like eating anymore," Soren said with a sour expression, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Let's go back."
Clark gazed at him steadily, his eyes dimming slightly. "Alright."
...
1:45 AM, Gotham.
Walking deeper into this filthy, chaotic neighborhood, the alleyways grew narrower, the low apartment buildings on either side nearly pressing against each other, while crushed cans, faded plastic bags, and various unidentifiable needles littered the roadside.
Two figures, one tall and one short, walked along the alley to a rusty apartment entrance.
Soren looked around in surprise at the surroundings, asking, "You actually live here? This place seems like it would be easy to get robbed…"
The tall, muscular young man with dark hair in front of him chuckled, holding a plastic bag of fast food, and turned back to say, "The most dangerous places are often the safest."
Jason Todd furrowed his brows, signaling for Soren to follow him up a narrow staircase that barely allowed one person to pass. He led Soren through the old apartment, making several turns, before finally pulling out a key and unlocking one of the apartment doors.
With a creak, the security door swung open, and a pencil lead quietly snapped, falling silently from the top of the door.
Jason spread his fingers wide, and without needing to look up to see where the pencil lead fell, he accurately caught two leads in his gloved palm.
He had placed those leads in the door's gap just before they left.
—This indicated that no one had entered before their return.
The safe house remained secure for the time being.
He tossed the shopping bag aside, turned on the light, and called out to Soren, "Find a place to sit."
As the lights came on, the true appearance of the small apartment was fully revealed to Soren. To his surprise, the interior was quite tidy. The left half of the room was neatly arranged with a small bed, a coffee table, a single chair, and a large storage cabinet, while the right half was cluttered with various equipment and firearms, along with a dazzling array of electronic components, wires, assembly tools, and more.
Soren settled into the single chair as Jason removed his belt, sitting down on the bed while unfastening the tactical holster strapped to his thigh. He looked down and asked, "Why are you investigating that star-spangled idiot?"
"Don't you think he's abnormal?" Soren replied, hugging one knee. "He seems to have appeared out of nowhere. There's never been any news about him before, yet he's managed to gain the support of an entire agency, as if he were a commercial product created specifically by that company."
Jason scoffed, "So what? At least he's gained the recognition of most people now."
"That's the problem," Soren let go of his knee. "His current approval rating is already catching up to Superman's. The speed at which he's gaining followers is clearly suspicious. He's been promoting his abilities everywhere—especially online—claiming he possesses the exact same superpowers as Superman. He even imitates Superman's photos; he wants to replace him."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Replace Superman? I have no objections to that."
Soren shot him a glare. "Don't forget he destroyed your motorcycle! Have you gotten it back from the Metropolis police?"
"…" Jason's expression soured as Soren struck a nerve.
He rubbed his chin, remembering his unfortunate lost motorcycle, feeling a bit bitter. "Not yet, but I'll steal it back eventually—"
"In any case, I think he's problematic. Did you see the news about what happened in Manhattan? If it weren't for the Avengers showing up, Superman would have almost killed Homelander. I believe Superman wouldn't attack him without reason; there must be something behind it…"
Jason laughed mockingly, "What does that have to do with me?"
"Homelander is going to start operating in Gotham soon. He wants to win over the citizens here, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to see that day come," Soren warned.
The smile on Jason's face gradually faded.
"How do you know that?" he asked.
Soren glanced at him and said, "I have a friend who also lives in Gotham… he's a skilled hacker and helped me intercept an email from Vought International sent to Homelander. They're planning to hold a recruitment event in Gotham."
"In Gotham, a recruitment?" Jason asked uncertainly.
Soren nodded, saying, "Yes, this is their promotional plan document. I downloaded it; they're going to announce the news on their official website in seven days, looking to recruit individuals with special abilities across Gotham to train them as superheroes."
He pulled out a printed document from his bag and handed it to Jason.
Jason took the document and flipped through a few pages, his expression growing darker. "They're treating Gotham like a talent market? They want to recruit backup superheroes from Gotham? Am I crazy, or are they insane?"