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

Page 459

After all, it's tiring for him to repeat it himself.

IKEA Shark, A Walking Ball of Spaghetti, Apache Attack Helicopter, Cyberpunk Red Dead Redemption—he spoke with a strong voice, his expression aggrieved and angry, as if he had truly suffered a great injustice.

Ms. David was completely stunned, her face flushing red and then pale. She tried to explain, "Classmate... I didn't mean that, it's just that your gender..."

I was speechless.

Ms. David found herself unable to continue the conversation on this topic.

No matter how she responded, it would seem utterly absurd. All the rhetoric about inclusion and respect she had prepared throughout her teaching career seemed to turn into a joke at this moment.

"I...I need to calm down..." Ms. David finally gave in, her voice trembling as she leaned on the podium, "Students...study on your own..."

After saying that, she almost staggered out of the classroom, without even taking her lesson plan.

The classroom was deathly silent for a few seconds.

immediately--

"Pfft-hahaha!"

"Holy crap! An Apache helicopter!"

"There's also an IKEA shark and spaghetti, hahaha!"

"Ian is awesome!!"

A deafening burst of laughter and applause instantly filled the classroom! The students slapped their desks, laughing so hard they almost fell over, as if they had just watched a spectacular stand-up comedy show.

of course.

In this sea of ​​joy sparked by Ian's "Apache helicopter" theory, there are always a few discordant notes, standing alone and completely unaffected by the classroom atmosphere.

"I have a flush! What are you going to use to beat me? Pay up!" In the back corner of the classroom, Madison and three other girls who didn't look like easy targets were squatting on the floor in a circle. A small blanket they had somehow gotten their hands on was spread out between them, with playing cards and a few crumpled US dollars scattered on it.

"From 3 to 7!"

Madison shouted excitedly, grabbing all the loose change on the table and piling it in front of him, his face beaming with the pure joy of a winner.

The other three girls grumbled and sweared as they reluctantly took out their money, while giving Madison suspicious looks.

As the saying goes, if you're not a green tea b*tch, you can't get into a green tea b*tch's den.

Including Madison himself.

These girls were all quite "skilled" at cards, with a hint of Las Vegas casinos, but also a sense of fear that if they got caught, they would be subjected to the Myanmar "cutting law".

"What a clumsy use of witchcraft."

Ian glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and couldn't help but roll his eyes inwardly. He could clearly "see" the faint, almost imperceptible magical fluctuations between Madison's fingers—she was using extremely crude mental techniques to peek at other people's cards, and even occasionally using her mind to slightly rearrange the cards.

Among the girls' cheating techniques, Madison was slightly better, but not as good as Ian. Ian didn't like cheating, so if it were him, he would just accept the loss.

If you lose, just forget about the other students' memories and try again. It's not considered cheating, and you can always win eventually. That's the real way to win outside the gambling table.

"This is... such blatant cheating. I'm the real God of Gamblers." Ian muttered to himself, deciding to stop paying attention to this doomed game.

While the classroom was still in chaos and Mr. David had not yet returned, Ian quickly packed his bag and slipped out the back door without making a sound.

Allowing oneself to leave school early is also a freedom that American students have.

He walked with practiced ease to a quiet corner on the back street of the school, where his car was parked—a heavily modified Dodge Challenger Hellcat that looked only slightly exaggerated.

Thanks to the excellent food Ian provided, the vehicle's core has undergone a complete transformation. While it may not be as advanced as Rick's spaceship, it is still one of the top-tier black magic technologies on Earth.

This is what a hellcat looks like.

What roars beneath the hood is less a machine and more a bound demonic soul, possessing a completely independent AI autonomous driving system.

Navigation destinations can even be accurate down to dimensional coordinates.

"Go to Madison's neighborhood, and keep a low profile."

As Ian opened the car door and got in, he immediately gave instructions.

[Optical camouflage and acoustic filtering systems have been activated.] It's actually using magical methods; however, the Hellcat hasn't yet evolved its own mouth.

It uses a recording of a game played on the radio.

The car glided silently into the lane, blending into the traffic like a ghost, its presence even unconsciously ignored by the surrounding vehicles and pedestrians.

Ian leaned back in the comfortable leather seat, his fingers tapping on the armrest. He wasn't going to Madison's neighborhood to spy on Madison's mother's private life, of course.

Ian was still wondering why the great scientist Rick had given him that large stone chair.

A conceptual character who might take the universe apart and play with it at any time is indeed causing Ian's paranoia, which he has inherited from Batman, to flare up slightly.

"He didn't beat God, so he resents God and wants to see God make a fool of himself?"

As Ian made his guesses, he was slightly taken aback by the sight before him when his Hellcat silently glided to the vicinity of Madison's neighborhood.

He had only been gone for a few days, and suddenly a huge, seemingly very professional training center appeared out of nowhere in this otherwise quiet community.

It was a huge building that looked like a converted warehouse, with its exterior painted a somber dark blue and a huge neon sign hanging on it.

The signboard flashed with several large characters.

[Sanchez's Exceptional Life Shortcut Planning and Skills Training Center]

There's a line of smaller text below the sign.

[Guaranteed to teach and learn, money back guarantee if you don't (only for surviving students)].

Ian's curiosity was completely ignited.

He maneuvered the Hellcat to silently stop at the street corner, while he himself, like a shadow blending into the night, leaped a few times and climbed to the roof of an office building across the street.

"What the hell?"

Ian pulled a strangely shaped telescope from his mimicry tactical belt—the telescope tube was covered with tiny, constantly rotating gears and flashing runes.

He turned his attention to that eerie "academy".

The field of vision became clear instantly.

Through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows made of some kind of reinforced crystal, Ian saw a breathtaking scene: a spacious hall, as large as a hangar, filled with various facilities. He could see that it was brightly lit, with many desks and chairs neatly arranged, and currently occupied by adults.

These people were dressed in strange clothes, covered in tattoos, and some had fierce eyes while others had lewd eyes. In any case, they were obviously not respectable people, but they all sat there obediently like primary school students.

Everyone was holding a notebook and a pen!

There were even a few magic apprentices dressed in tattered robes and wielding twisted staffs. They formed a semicircle, their eyes fixed fervently on the central platform.

"So listen up, you bunch of incompletely evolved carbon-based idiots!"

A figure was spitting as he spoke.

His graying, messy hair resembled a bird's nest, thick stubble covered his chin, and a dirty white lab coat, stained with unknown chemicals, hung loosely on his body.

It was Rick Sanchez.

He held a laser pointer in his hand, the beam randomly pointing at the huge holographic projection screen, which displayed several three-dimensional city models with different styles.

"Metropolis? Ha! With Superman, that muscle-bound, simple-minded alien, flying around all day long, how could you possibly put your enthusiasm into practice?"

"While Superman is rescuing a drowning kitten, he can also conveniently weld the vault door you just pried open back to its original state!" Rick's voice blared through the loudspeakers that filled the hall.

With a heavy nasal tone and undisguised disappointment.

"A waste of effort! Zero efficiency! Even crime requires skill! You have to use your brain!"

He took a large gulp of liquid from a brown bottle with the label torn off, which he had taken from under the podium, and then began to sway and pound the whiteboard with his pointer.

It's covered with all sorts of complex roadmaps, timelines, and... cost-benefit analyses?

"All you do is rob convenience stores, steal cars, and collect protection money! Low-class! No future! The profit margin is pitifully low! If Superman catches you, he'll throw you straight into jail."

"Look at this! The perfect bank vault robbery plan! It's not about how good you are at fighting! It's about the redundancy backup time of the surveillance system, the security guards' shift changes and urination patterns, the GPS signal delay of the armored truck, and how to short gold futures and cash out before the Federal Reserve can react!"

“This is what crime looks like! This is fucking financial art!” He suddenly raised his voice, and the laser pointer’s spot “snap” fixed on the Gotham City model.

The area was shrouded in dark clouds, with towering buildings standing tall, and bats seemed to flit about in the shadows.

"You guys need to go to Gotham and get jobs after you graduate! Don't even think about staying in Metropolis. Metropolis is a dead-end place, a boring place that's been taken over by Superman!"

"Only Gotham, this is the paradise for you 'ambitious youths'! Batman? That mortal who relies on money and equipment? He has more psychological problems than the stolen goods you've stolen! The entire city's corrupt system is your natural shield! The police? Half of them are accomplices, and the other half are just for show!"

"Crime rate? That's GDP! Understand? A high crime rate means low law enforcement efficiency, which means huge room for manipulation and... freedom of artistic creation! Here, a successful bank robbery has an aesthetic value comparable to... uh, comparable to the instant noodles I cooked yesterday using the principle of quantum entanglement!"

The great scientist Rick's metaphors are mostly more abstract than Ian's.

A burst of enthusiastic applause and whistles erupted from the audience. The thugs and spies were flushed with excitement, as if they had found their direction in life. A sorcerer apprentice in a tattered robe raised his hand, his voice trembling: "Master Rick! What about... what about magical crimes? How about in Central City?"

“Central City?” Rick scoffed, as if he’d heard a low-brow joke. “The Flash? That ‘human electric donkey’ who maintains supersonic speed by eating carbohydrates? His speed perception? His timeline prediction? Before you can even finish the ‘Ka’ in your spell ‘Abracadabra,’ he can tie you up like dumplings and send you to Iron Mountain Prison a hundred times over!”

"Pure suicide! Unless..."

He paused deliberately, whetting everyone's appetite, before slowly saying, "Unless your magic can be precise enough to manipulate the flow of time itself, like... uh, an Iris Cheese Nude Trap that can create local time freeze? Unfortunately, the materials needed for that are extinct in Parallel Universe 33."

"otherwise……"

Rick started pouring himself a drink before he could finish his sentence.

This drew a sigh of regret from the audience.

"In short, Gotham! A land of talent, with a friendly and honest populace, and Arkham Academy offers room and board! Central City? The Flash is fast, but he's prone to mental lapses!"

“Star City? Green Arrow is a former terrorist himself, easy to communicate with! Seaside City? Lantern is alright, but the sector is too big for him to manage! These are all prime crime hotspots, you idiots! Market selection! Do you understand?!” Rick also listed several cities in the DC universe where crime is most likely to succeed for the students.

He was truly a mentor who taught me.

The trainees all looked enlightened, applauded enthusiastically, and praised him. Rick seemed very satisfied with the effect. He put his hands on his hips smugly, and then subconsciously looked up at the broken watch on his wrist... a watch that had obviously been broken for who knows how many years and whose hands were pointing haphazardly.

"Hmm...that's about it..." he muttered, then his expression changed instantly, switching from passionate lecturer mode to slacking off mode.

"Alright, alright! That concludes today's lesson on 'How to efficiently and safely commit serious crimes while evading superhero attacks'! get out of class dismissed!" He announced almost impatiently, then swiftly tossed the pointer and textbook behind him. The textbook arced through the air before landing precisely in a bin labeled "Hazardous Waste".

at the same time.

Rick ripped off his spiritual mentor's white coat, only to find an identical white coat underneath.

"Tomorrow at the same time, we'll explain how to use cross-dimensional methods to exploit tax loopholes for money laundering. Remember to bring a calculator." After saying that, he didn't wait for the students to react before dashing off the stage and rushing out of the training center's back door with an agility completely out of character for his age and drunken appearance.

Ian quickly adjusted the telescope's viewing angle to track the target.

Rick rushed out the back door, looked around, and then ran straight towards a... car? The "car" looked extremely bizarre.

Its chassis looks like a few steel pipes welded together haphazardly, and its body is made entirely of countless bright green cucumbers glued together with some kind of transparent slime!