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

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It is impossible for human society to be harmonious even at one point.

The specter of the "doomsday party" resurfaced at this moment. Those extremists who had been hoarding canned goods and studying survival manuals for years trembled with excitement, like sharks smelling blood. They sprang from their beds, grabbed their pre-prepared backpacks, their eyes gleaming with a morbid light mixed with fear and ecstasy, and frantically rushed to their garages, ready to drive their modified doomsday vehicles to "meet" the end they had predicted countless times.

However, before they could even touch their car keys, the garage door lock clicked open automatically. At the door, a police tactical squad, already on high alert, appeared like ghosts.

Riot shields reflected a cold glint in the stark white light, and stun guns crackled. The lead officer was expressionless, his voice booming through a megaphone, his calmness bordering on cruel.

"Stop all activity! Put down your backpacks immediately! All non-essential outings and gatherings are prohibited! Your actions are suspected of creating panic and endangering public safety!"

Without any hesitation, the well-trained police officers swarmed forward, their movements clean and swift, as if they had practiced a thousand times. The so-called "doomsday warriors" didn't even have time to think of resisting before they were pinned to the ground, their wrists locked in cold handcuffs, giving a live performance of an America-style "dying before even starting."

The riots haven't even started yet.

He was quickly arrested by the experienced police officers.

Police forces worldwide have long had well-established emergency plans and arrest procedures to deal with these "doomsday prophet" groups. In a sense, these police officers may not have done nothing when the disaster struck; they at least efficiently maintained social order and prevented the panic stemming from within humanity from escalating further.

It can be considered as providing support for the superheroes.

of course.

The police officers were also worried.

Ordinary citizens, governments around the world, and even the various organizations operating behind the scenes are all on edge. There is a general consensus at this moment: based on extensive past experience, regardless of the origin of this sudden light, it undoubtedly signifies another major crisis is about to unfold.

People have developed a true "sixth sense" from various crises. The Justice League's alarm system is already lit up like a Christmas tree, and even those minor superheroes who usually only fight petty thieves on the streets are subconsciously looking up at the sky and gripping their weapons tightly.

They were only thinking about which direction to run in this time.

It's fair to say that every superhero who has survived to this day knows their own limitations and what level of disaster they are capable of participating in.

The only place that remained relatively calm was probably Ian's new, new home. The television, which was turned on immediately, was broadcasting emergency news from various TV stations.

Almost all mainstream channels, from serious news channels to reality TV channels that are entertaining to the death, are broadcasting the same carefully orchestrated "appeasement" show.

A female news anchor with impeccable makeup and a perfectly standard smile stands against a backdrop of constantly scrolling "scientific analysis charts" filled with complex mathematical formulas.

"Dear viewers, the unusual light phenomenon you are seeing is a rare high-energy ice crystal resonance event that occurred in the Kuiper Belt at the outer edge of the solar system!"

"Yes, you heard right! A distant, tiny celestial body composed of methane and ammonia ice, under the stimulation of specific gravitational tides and cosmic rays, experienced a chain reaction of mirror-like collective reflections!"

The news anchor delivered her "scientific" explanation in her cloyingly sweet, emotionless voice. Louise rolled her eyes, grabbed the remote, and was about to change the channel.

Switching to another channel, an "expert" wearing a white lab coat and a "NASA Special Advisor" badge is pointing at a star map that is clearly at the level of a child's doodle, and is analyzing it with great seriousness: "...Preliminary research shows that this is related to the periodic 'sneezing' of the Earth's magnetic field!"

"Yes, our Mother Earth, the magnetic field strength experienced a tiny, harmless 'sneeze spike' tonight! This 'sneeze' disturbed the ionosphere in the upper atmosphere, causing it to amplify the background cosmic microwave radiation by a million times!"

"So what you see as 'daylight' is essentially an amplified echo of the 'baby's cry' from the Big Bang! What poetic science!"

“I’m a genius… I mean, our scientists are all geniuses.”

……

Almost every television station had experts on-site to provide scientific explanations, reassuring the public and easing panic. Although the experts' explanations varied slightly from channel to channel, this did not prevent the program from being effective. After all, very few people actually absorbed the information from the books.

There are all sorts of different interpretations.

Believe whichever one you want to believe.

There's even the ancient Mayan prophecy about the "baptism of light" during the "Fifth Sun Age," which many young people on the internet still believe in.

"Enough!" Louise, who had truly read books, finally lost her temper and slammed down the mute button. The living room instantly fell silent, leaving only the deathly, unsettling white light from outside the window.

“Oh no, why do it again?” Louise Lane had just returned home less than two hours after a reporting mission in the Arctic, and hadn’t even fully unpacked her suitcase.

She was trying to hang a coat that was frozen stiff in the Arctic and not yet fully thawed on the hanger when she was blinded by the eerie light coming from the window.

“For God’s sake… well, it’s probably unlikely that our family’s prayers to God will do any good now.” Louise sighed and grabbed her still-frozen coat again.

She rubbed her temples, her face etched with exhaustion. However, given what had happened, she didn't even need to think; her body acted instinctively.

I have to go work overtime.

"Being a journalist is no job for humans..." Poor Ian's mother grabbed her handbag and car keys from the table, complaining as she walked out the door.

Sure enough, the moment she stepped out of her room, her phone rang like a death knell. The caller ID showed Perry White, editor-in-chief of the Daily Planet.

Louise took a deep breath, answered the phone, and said without even waiting for the other person to speak, "I understand, Perry. Abnormal celestial phenomena, global panic, unknown cause, it's big news, a major breaking news story. We all have to work until the earth is destroyed, right? I'm going to the newspaper office to work overtime to finish the article."

She had no choice but to take the initiative.

Perry on the other end of the phone seemed taken aback by her preemptive strike, pausing for a few seconds before yelling, "That's right! Lois! I need to see the first draft in half an hour! I need to know what the hell is going on! Is some alien bastard trying to cause trouble again?! Go interview Superman!"

Leaders become leaders not just because of good luck, but also because they know how to use the right people in the right places. Louise's superiors had fully learned how to manage their subordinates.

“Okay, I’ll go check if Superman is out and about.” Louise replied curtly and hung up. Looking at her buzzing phone, she couldn’t help but complain to the empty yard, “From now on, if anyone writes any propaganda articles about ‘Americans refusing to work overtime’ or ‘Americans have complete private time after get off work, and nobody dares to intrude,’ I’m going to dump that cactus on my balcony on their head!”

This is resentment towards colleagues.

"Meow~"

A lazy meow came from her handbag. The Super Cat poked its little head out of the warm bag, its bright green eyes narrowed into slits in the bright light. It yawned, seemingly unconcerned about its owner's anger and the apocalyptic scene outside. It rolled over and buried its head back into its fur, continuing its sweet dream.

Louise looked at the carefree little one in the bag, then at her own dripping coat on her shoulder and the buzzing phone in her pocket, and a deep sense of envy welled up in her heart.

"These days, I really want to be a cat... No need to write articles, no need to work overtime, even if the sky falls, the owner will hold it up, and someone will feed me dried fish when I wake up..."

She glanced around the courtyard but couldn't find Ian's illegally modified "Hellcat" muscle car, whose engine sounded like Cerberus roaring.

Staying out all night wasn't considered bad behavior by Ian, but this scene made Louise worry about something else.

"Could this be another one of Ian's crazy antics?" She wasn't afraid that Ian would get a girl pregnant; she was afraid that Ian would want to cause trouble again when he had nothing better to do.

At the same time, the second-floor window was flung open with a bang, and the eldest son, Jonathan Kent, peeked out with his sleepy head. Rubbing his eyes, his hair a mess like a bird's nest, he mumbled towards the next room, "Ian! Ian! Did you blow something up again?! This time it was way too loud!"

Indeed, it's not just Mom who thinks this way; the whole family thinks so. So it's definitely not prejudice, but rather Ian's reputation is something everyone in the family knows.

Ian Kent, the explosives genius, has an unshakeable reputation within his family and is considered quite "reliable".

"Be a good boy and guard the house! I have to go to the newspaper office! Just don't let the house explode again!" Louise opened the car door and got into her Mercedes, which wasn't very nice anymore.

As the engine started, she noticed Jonathan was still staring at her, so she could only stick her head out again to explain, "At least Ian knows to go outside and blow things up."

“She’s not blowing up the house anymore, that’s a kind of growth, right?” Louise paused, trying to defend her youngest son, though the explanation sounded incredibly weak.

After saying that, without waiting for Jonathan's reaction, she stepped on the gas, and the Mercedes drove off the road, leaving the taillights shining into the still exceptionally bright night.

"?????"

Jonathan stood dumbfounded at the window, his mouth agape for a long time. Aside from a few unusual traits, he was arguably the most normal member of the family.

"Is this... growing up?" he muttered to himself, deeply shocked. "Expanding the scope of destruction from home to the whole world and even outer space, is that what it means to have learned to grow up? God, now I finally understand why my classmates all say that parents favor the youngest child the most!"

Jonathan could easily imagine that if he or his brother Jordan had caused such a commotion today, even just once, their backsides would probably have been spanked by their parents long ago.

It's not just ordinary blooming; under my father's iron fist, countless of the most magnificent butt flowers in the universe will definitely bloom, the kind that split into hundreds of petals when they open.

“Sigh, Ian is still young.”

Jonathan sighed, shook his head, and decided to stop thinking about this sad family hierarchy issue. He prepared to close the window and go back to check if Ian was hiding somewhere, planning to blow up the house.

So-called growth.

It's not impossible to learn how to use feints to attack from the east while striking from the west.

However, just as he turned around, he caught a glimpse of something unusual on the horizon out of the corner of his eye.

A... something flaming, crooked, and resembling two bowls stacked together, was falling from the sky, trailing black smoke. Was it a flying saucer?

Even more bizarrely, there seemed to be several figures standing or sitting on the UFO? Amidst the wind, the sounds of a heated argument could be faintly heard.

A little boy's voice shrieked, "Just because you couldn't buy the ice cream you wanted?! You're going to blow up that damn planet full of bastards?!"

"I haven't even had a chance to take my toys yet! You're a lunatic!!" This little boy is quite eccentric; he cares more about his reserve adult toys than a planet.

Another aged voice roared back, louder and louder, filled with frustration and a panicked attempt to cover it up: "Motty! Motty! Shut up! You have to forget about today, you hear me! Yes, completely forget it! We didn't buy insurance! We can't afford to pay for an entire planet! Damn it, this piece of junk is going to crash!"

"Now, shut up! Prepare for an emergency landing!"

Then, amidst the old man's incessant babbling of "Oh—oh oh oh oh—", the flaming flying saucer traced an extremely unstable trajectory and finally crashed with a "boom" a block away from where Jonathan's view was blocked by the roof of his neighbor's house.

"?????"

Jonathan froze completely at the window, rubbing his eyes hard, wondering if he was still half asleep or if he had gone crazy from worrying too much about his brother Ian's "explosive talent".

What was that? Humanoid aliens? Destroying a planet because of ice cream? Not having insurance? This series of absurdities almost caused his brain to shut down.

Before he could even sort out the slightest bit of his thoughts, the phone in his pajama pocket suddenly rang sharply, as if it had been timed perfectly.

The ringtone shattered the eerie silence of the early morning, startling Jonathan. He blankly pulled out his phone, the caller ID on the screen only adding to his confusion.

"Why is Jordan calling me? Shouldn't he be filming right now?"

The eerie white light in the early morning, coupled with witnessing what appeared to be an alien spacecraft crash, had already overloaded Jonathan's nerves. He took a deep breath and pressed the answer button.

"Jonathan?! Thank goodness you answered!"

Jordan's voice, low and filled with panic and urgency, came through the phone immediately. The background noise was unusually quiet, with even a hollow echo.

It was as if he were in a huge, enclosed space.

"Jordan? What's wrong? Something sounds off. Is the director trying to sexually harass you?" Jonathan's heart leaped. His brother's voice held a rare hint of embarrassment and...pain.

"Filming my ass! I'm in Seattle! Listen, Jonathan, I need help, right now! Come save me!" Jordan spoke very quickly.

He was almost rambling incoherently.

"Seattle?!" Jonathan was even more confused. "How did you end up in Seattle? And shouldn't Seattle be bright as day right now... in the middle of the night?"

He glanced subconsciously at the still unnaturally bright sky outside the window.

"I don't have time to explain!" Jordan's voice was filled with frustration and a hint of lingering fear. "I took on a side job... well, it was a commission Ian gave me."

"This place is indeed extraordinary, with many terrifying dark creatures, but I also displayed great power, eliminating many threats to this world in one fell swoop."

Jordan doesn't seem that dangerous, otherwise he wouldn't have time to boast about himself like this.

"And then?" Jonathan frowned. Although Jordan inherited his father's superpowers, he didn't have much experience handling this level of mission independently.

"Then I was hit on the head with a club, right when I let my guard down! It came from behind, and the force was ridiculously strong! I took more than twenty blows before I passed out."

Jordan's tone regained a hint of his former pride.

But it immediately went slump again.

"A knockout?" Jonathan almost thought he'd misheard. A Kryptonian with a body of steel, knocked out with a physical knockout?

"Yes! A sudden, fatal blow!"