What's wrong with Superman's son wanting to be Superman?

Page 164

Barry Allen, the Flash, didn't respond at all, but just looked at Clark with a pitiful expression.

"Go back to your dorms."

Clark opened his mouth.

Jordan and Jonathan did as instructed.

Ian is the same.

The three people moved in unison, as if they were experiencing military training.

however.

“You have to stay. You should know more about this than I do.” The old father stopped Ian, who was about to go upstairs to wash up and prepare to enter the Marvel world.

Looking at the time, there were still more than forty minutes left, and Ian could only nod helplessly.

"wait for me."

He found a sleeping bag in the locker, stuffed Madison into it, and sat back down on the sofa.

"Why don't you put your classmate in your bed and then you sleep in the living room tonight?" Clark noticed Madison seemed to be able to get off Ian's shoulder and be thrown onto the sofa.

"Madison and I are indeed friends, but that doesn't mean she can use my bed. That's a matter of principle." Ian actually wanted to be able to keep an eye on whether Death was coming or not.

Clark's temple throbbed.

Then he sighed.

"Your classmate's unusual behavior is probably related to what happened downtown this afternoon?" The father's super brain was actually still functioning properly most of the time.

The information was connected.

"I was brave and fearless back then, saving the world, and tonight I saved the Flash."

Ian nodded, still wanting to showcase his creative talent and boast a little about his achievements, but Clark had already seen through his little scheme.

I won't hit you tonight.

Clark did see through Ian's little scheme.

Ian was relieved.

Where is your boss?

Clark continued to ask questions.

He still remembers how he was rescued.

"The big boss isn't responding, she's acting aloof, maybe she doesn't like The Flash?" Ian asked uncertainly, as he hadn't received any response from Miss Death.

"What big shot? And... I haven't offended anyone, so why would anyone dislike me?" Barry was completely bewildered and still didn't quite understand the situation. So, Clark gave a brief explanation of his youngest son's situation, which was basically about Ian being favored by a legitimate goddess.

obviously.

The elderly father went to investigate the information Ian had given about "death".

"Hiss, no wonder he said he was omniscient." Barry looked at Ian with suspicion, since there had been demigods like Wonder Woman in the Justice League.

He's quite accepting of these kinds of things. The only thing that confuses this Flash is that he doesn't usually have the opportunity to offend such people, does he?

“That kind of existence is still too far away from us. We can’t pin our hopes on the will of the universe having mercy on us.” Clark sighed as he looked out the window at the starry sky.

Although he felt very uncomfortable, The Flash agreed with this statement.

“First it was me, then it was you. This is definitely not a coincidence.” With that, Clark took out his phone and dialed a number. “I have a very strong intuition.”

“This so-called extraterrestrial invasion is probably not such a simple problem.” Superman’s call was quickly connected, and Bruce Wayne’s deep voice came from the other end.

He hasn't even opened his mouth to explain the situation yet.

"I'll be there soon."

Bruce Wayne's deep voice seemed to indicate that he understood everything.

This didn't surprise anyone.

Everyone knows Batman's reputation. He can't monitor Superman, but he certainly can. In fact, some of the products on the Flash come from Wayne Enterprises' raw material supply.

“Uncle Bruce wasn’t corrupted in this situation, which I find rather strange. He should have been the first to suffer.” Ian was both polite and somewhat impolite.

His confusion, from his perspective, wasn't directed at Bruce.

however.

Bruce hung up the phone in a still very rude tone.

"dududu~"

A blind tone appears.

Clark was just about to put down his phone.

He seemed to have remembered something else.

“You need to call Dr. Hannibal back. He woke up this afternoon and found you were gone, so he asked me about it.” Clark handed his phone to Ian.

Ian took the phone and walked to the window.

He made the call using the half-cell phone Batman had given him. After all, using Clark's phone less often would save on phone bills and allow him to accumulate more wealth for his family.

"Hello~"

After the call is connected.

The background noise included the crisp sound of knives and forks clattering.

Hannibal looked like he was eating.

"You sound like you're having a big meal."

Ian twitched his nose, as if he could smell the scent through the phone.

"Beef liver with red wine, a classic that never goes out of style." Hannibal's voice remained elegant; he seemed to be listening to music. This man truly knew how to enjoy life after get off work.

"That's quite a feast."

Ian took the notebook.

Start querying the number of deaths due to missing livers.

"Ian, you woke up before me this afternoon, didn't you?" Hannibal asked again in a confused voice. What happened that afternoon had indeed caught everyone off guard.

"I don't know what happened. When I woke up, I was lying on the street. Maybe I was captured by aliens and then released?" Ian wasn't telling the truth.

Hannibal did not express any doubt.

“I imagine giving an interview must be exhausting,” he said softly to Ian, changing the subject before Ian could even respond.

"I will not charge for this treatment due to unforeseen circumstances."

have to say.

Professionalism might still be reflected in Hannibal's actions.

"Thank you, Dr. Lecter."

Ian quickly thanked him.

Maintain proper manners.

“I can sense in your voice some unspoken questions about me,” Hannibal continued, his sensitivity to his patients’ emotions indeed somewhat unusual.

"Forehead."

Ian's main problem was that he couldn't find any information about the deaths of the individuals in question.

"Actually, the thing is this," Ian said, choosing to change the subject. "I have a friend who has amnesia. Is there any way to help him remember our intimate relationship?"

He asked very sincerely.

But this was met with a long silence from Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

"Implanting false memories into someone is illegal," Dr. Hannibal cautioned after noticing Ian's apparent obsession with the issue.

"What if the law doesn't protect him?"

Ian, unwilling to give up, spoke up.

He felt that the Dream God was probably not a legal citizen of America.

Hear the words.

Hannibal remained silent for a moment.

“If it’s purely academic research, there’s a technique in psychology called ‘dream implantation.’” He ultimately chose to answer Ian’s question.

"Never mind then, I can't grow hedgehog quills on my face, so I lack confidence and can't pull off this trick." Ian said regretfully, he didn't want to try to show off his skills in front of the Dream God.

“I can hear a lot of metaphors in your words, which may be a sign that you are closing yourself off. If you need to talk about anything, you can come to me anytime.”

Hannibal was thoughtfully profiling Ian.

He's a nice person.

I just hope that children who don't have any worries don't have more tender livers.

"Good night, Dr. Hannibal. Since you've shown some concern for me, I should show some concern for you too. To be honest, you really should eat more vegetables."

Ian hung up the phone after he finished speaking.

On the other end of the dial tone.

"A very difficult patient."

Hannibal sat in his own dining room, elegantly enjoying foie gras with red wine.

The candlelight illuminated the blood-red sauce on the table.

He chewed the last piece of liver thoughtfully.

Then, the sound of a key turning rang out, and a young girl walked in humming a song. The few freckles on the tip of her nose made her look like the kind of girl next door that Europeans and Americans love.

"I'm back."

The girl's voice came from the entrance.

Accompanied by the crisp sound of high heels clicking on the floor.