Hotel restaurant.
The TV was still broadcasting news about the wildfire.
"As of the evening of the 16th, only 2% of the 'Karl' wildfire is under control. The Kansas Fire Department stated that the hot environment, steep terrain, and gusts of wind have hindered firefighting efforts. More than 20,000 people have already evacuated their homes."
Jonathan looked at the raging wildfire on the TV screen, sighed, and said to his wife, "I hope the fire doesn't spread to Smallville."
He looked up towards Peter and saw a young man with an extraordinary temperament suddenly appear beside him.
"Who is that?"
Jonathan asked Martha in surprise.
"A homeless child Peter just met."
Martha looked at Bruce, who was slowly eating, and said, "Mr. Jones said he's very special."
"So, you don't have to go to school?"
At the dining table, Mark narrowed his eyes and asked Bruce.
Clark, beside him, looked curiously at the aristocratic Bruce.
He didn't quite understand why a stranger had suddenly appeared next to his godfather overnight.
"No, I have my own study plan."
Bruce put down the toast he was eating and said to Mark, "I also have professional teachers, I mean—"
He glanced at Peter, "I mean before, not now."
"Have you ever kissed a girl?"
"Hey, John!"
Hearing Mark's increasingly inappropriate questions, Peter immediately stopped him.
Was this brat itching for a beating?
"Sorry, Dad."
Mark immediately admitted his mistake, "But Bruce said he used to be very rich, and I think rich people should have done such things, things we can't do."
Bruce shook his head with an embarrassed expression, "No, I haven't."
"Then you're the strangest guy I've ever met."
Mark commented on Bruce.
Bruce rubbed his nose, thinking, 'I'll send the same words back to you; you're also the strangest brat I've ever met.'
Mark either called him a "poor boy" or said he "would still be a weirdo even if he was rich."
Anyway, in his eyes, whether he had money or not, he could never be a good person.
Peter said to Mark with a serious expression, "Whether you have money or not, John, kissing girls at your age is not allowed."
He suspected whether Mark had similar thoughts.
"I agree, Dad."
Mark turned his gaze to Clark and said earnestly, "Dad, you should keep an eye on Clark; he likes Lana."
Clark was a bit bewildered when Mark brought the topic to him.
He hadn't expected Mark to tell his godfather about this.
"No, I haven't—I mean, I've never had such thoughts."
Clark, facing Peter's suspicious gaze, explained, blushing, "Lana and I are just friends."
Glancing at Mark, who had betrayed him, Clark couldn't help but inwardly grumble about Mark, the "informer."
After breakfast, Mark and Clark stayed in the room, while Peter and Martian Manhunter went out to run errands.
"Clark, black, or Vampire red, choose one."
Clark looked at him in confusion, "Choose what?"
"Choose what? Choose the President and high officials on Mars!"
Clark was even more confused, staring blankly at Mark.
"Sunglasses, Dad bought us two small pairs of sunglasses."
Mark showed him the two children's sunglasses in his hand, "Do you prefer black lenses or Vampire red?"
"It doesn't matter; I can actually take either."
"Dad said you don't like making choices, Clark; that's not a good habit."
Mark put on the Vampire red sunglasses and said to him:
"How about we analyze it? Vampires are cool, right? At least modern Vampires are cool. They wear black, look imposing, and their skin is very pale. My skin is also very white, and we can all fly. But besides that, we don't have many similarities."
He then switched to the other pair of black sunglasses.
"As for black, the pitch-black color looks like a blackbird. Blackbirds are very cool-looking birds. Many myths use them to symbolize Death. People often say that blackbirds are the embodiment of the God of Death, like sparrows, responsible for taking the souls of the Dead to the underworld."
Saying this, Mark quickly stopped, "Of course, one bad thing is that blackbirds are completely black, and I often confuse them with rustic crows, so never mind."
After listening to him, Clark asked in surprise, "Where did you learn all this, John?"
"Dad told me."
Clark nodded as if enlightened.
Seeing that Clark still couldn't offer an opinion, Mark was a bit speechless.
He coughed and said in a serious tone:
"Clark, be serious. You now have a chance to change your fate. Choose a color of sunglasses for me. You are now in control, and whether you can rewrite fate, rewrite the course of human history, depends on you, here, right now."
Clark was silenced by Mark's "jokingly serious" remarks.
Why does it sound like we're deciding something big about the life and Death of Earth and humanity?
"Alright."
Clark blinked, "Alright, then Vampire red it is."
"Pfft!"
Mark puffed out his cheeks, making a mocking sound, "Vampire red is absolutely impossible."
Mark said in an annoying tone, "I had already decided in my heart; it's black, you idiot, Clark. You can't defy fate. Look, it seems you choose wrong every time."
Clark was frozen in place for two seconds.
He hadn't realized that Mark could be so boring and cunning.
Mark, wearing sunglasses, stood by the window looking at the scenery outside when a familiar figure flashed by.
Bruce Wayne?!
Mark's brows immediately furrowed when he saw Bruce "sneakily" leaving the hotel.
He always maintained a considerable degree of vigilance towards this "poor boy" who had cheated his father out of money.
Besides the fact that the other party borrowed money that should have belonged to him, it was also because he had a sense of crisis: it seemed that Dad attached unusual importance to the other party.
Realizing the danger, he subconsciously became wary of Bruce.
"I need to go out for a bit."
Mark immediately took off his sunglasses and walked out, "If Dad asks, just say I'll be right back."
Clark looked at Mark's back, sat on the sofa, and picked up the Vampire red sunglasses, "Well, actually, I quite like red."
On the other side.
Bruce left the hotel and took several turns, arriving at a secluded spot in the city.
The roads here crisscrossed like a web spun by a drunken spider, and they were full of potholes, vast and desolate.
Bruce quickly found the street children he had met yesterday.
He had just spoken a few words to the street children when he heard a "bang" of an air explosion.
The few of them turned their heads in surprise and saw Mark standing behind them, watching them with his arms crossed.
"Bruce, your lie has been exposed."
Mark took a triumphant step forward, "You said you were rich. Look, these must be your brothers and sisters, right? If Dad knew your identity as a liar, what do you think he would think?"
The few street children exchanged glances, looking at Mark, who had a villainous expression.
"You wouldn't want Dad to know your identity as a liar, would you, Bruce?"