"Lock-on successful! Target locked!" the fighter pilot reported to his superior via radio.
"Confirmed—fire!" General Lane's expression was solemn as he gave the order to fire.
"Whoosh!" A missile slid out from the fighter's belly, trailing a long plume of fire as it shot towards Pyro!
With a loud "boom," the forest was quickly engulfed in thick smoke and scorching explosion flames.
The ground vibrated slightly from the impact, and the pungent smell of burning entered everyone's nostrils.
General Lane immediately picked up his binoculars to observe the situation in the bombarded area.
To his astonishment, not only was Pyro not eliminated, but another figure inexplicably appeared.
"Cough, cough, cough!" Pyro, clutching his chest and coughing, knelt on the ground, trembling violently.
Although the bombing hadn't killed him directly, it had caused severe damage to his body.
His entire body was in excruciating pain, his heart was pounding uncontrollably, and the flames burning on him rapidly dimmed.
Pyro recovered for a moment, then looked with terror at the fighter jets roaring overhead.
Just as he was about to flee, his peripheral vision suddenly caught sight of Peter walking step by step towards him from the sea of fire.
Pyro raised his head in shock, his eyes filled with disbelief.
He couldn't believe that a human could walk out of the explosion flames completely unharmed!
"Stop! Don't come any closer!"
Filled with fear, he shouted at Peter, "Please! Don't come any closer! I don't want to hurt you!"
Peter looked at the terrified and pained Pyro in front of him and stopped.
"You seem a little scared? Don't worry, I won't hurt you."
"And—you can't hurt me either."
Peter walked up to the burning Pyro, ignoring the raging flames on him, and extended his hand: "Do you mind if we get acquainted?"
Pyro stared in astonishment at Peter's outstretched hand, "Why can you...?"
"Perhaps I have some talent."
Peter calmly asked him, "Who are you? Why are you here?"
Pyro clutched his head and said painfully, "I don't know who I am, I don't know why I'm here, I don't even know what happened to me!"
Peter listened to him, noticing his accelerated pulse and the rapidly rising temperature around him, correlating with his heart rate.
He maintained the handshake posture, "I guess your temperature might be correlated with your psychological stress level, and the Fire on you might be from the pressure of the Military's attack on you."
He now suspected that the forest fire was entirely caused by Pyro in front of him.
To figure out what exactly happened, he tried to calm him down.
Pyro looked up helplessly, "I... I'm very scared."
"I know, close your eyes and take a deep breath!"
Facing Pyro, who seemed young, Peter reached out and patted his flame-covered shoulder, "Just breathe."
After being touched by Peter, Pyro's emotions seemed to stabilize, and the flames on him gradually calmed down.
A moment later, the flames on him completely extinguished, revealing a naked, bald teenager.
Peter took off his jacket and covered the teenager's body.
The bald teenager, whose emotions had calmed down, looked at Peter gratefully, "Thank you, sir."
He looked around at the burnt forest and apologized to Peter with guilt and self-reproach: "I... I'm very sorry, I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
Peter glanced at the soldiers not far away and said to the bald teenager, "Let's get out of here first."
On the other side, General Lane was observing the two with binoculars, but to his surprise, they suddenly disappeared the next second.
Stunned, he put down his binoculars, rubbed his eyes, and picked them up again.
There was still no trace of the two at the scene.
"Damn it! What happened?"
General Lane had a look of seeing a ghost.
After returning to Metropolis, Peter handed the bald teenager over to Martian Manhunter, who had already woken up.
After a conversation, Martian Manhunter roughly learned his identity.
"He doesn't know his name, he only remembers escaping from a laboratory."
Martian Manhunter said to Peter, "I traced back his chaotic memories and saw that the laboratory in his memory was located in Indian Hill, Gotham. This laboratory has been conducting illegal experiments, controlled by a mysterious organization behind it."
"I guess that organization is the Court of Owls, right?"
Peter looked at Martian Manhunter, who seemed to be in poor spirits, and asked, "Are you alright, Jones?"
"I'm fine, just a bit mentally drained from the Fire, maybe some cookies will help."
Martian Manhunter picked up a cookie and continued, "You guessed right, it's the Court of Owls controlling this laboratory. They're using this teenager's blood to try and develop some kind of serum virus and then release it."
"They want to destroy Gotham?"
Martian Manhunter shrugged, "There's a high possibility. This teenager is their weapon. He escaped from the laboratory, fled in terror to the uninhabited forest, and ended up causing a forest fire."
"Then the government discovered his existence and sent the Military to capture him."
Peter nodded, "Sounds logical, but why do they want to replace Bruce?"
Martian Manhunter said, "Maybe Bruce is very important to them."
Peter pondered for a moment, then didn't continue the topic of Bruce, but rather continued talking about the bald teenager.
"Perhaps, that teenager is also very important to us, and his emotions are very unstable. Your psychic abilities can calm him down, right?"
The bald teenager is not only a weapon of the Court of Owls but also possesses Fire control abilities, and can be used to counterbalance Martian Manhunter in the future.
Although he trusts Martian Manhunter now, he never believes that this trust will last forever.
Being prepared has always been his modus operandi.
"No problem, his emotions are very stable now."
Martian Manhunter said, savoring an Oreo.
"Hey, Bruce."
Mark called out to Bruce in the hallway.
"Is something wrong?"
Bruce looked displeased at the brat who had just beaten him up.
"Sorry I beat you up earlier."
Mark looked very sincere, "Dad scolded me, and I know I was wrong, cough cough... um, Dad said you used to be very rich in Gotham, is that true?"
"Yes."
Bruce looked at him suspiciously, wondering what this kid was up to.
"So that means you're not a poor boy, but a fallen young master?"
"I'm not a fallen young master."
Bruce was a bit annoyed. The labels he had in Mark's eyes were either "poor boy" or "fallen"; wasn't there anything positive?
"Anyway, you used to be very rich, right?"
Mark's lips curved into a familiar fake smile from Peter's previous life, and he said to Bruce, "I think maybe we can turn enemies into friends. I mean, you, Bruce, we can become true friends."
"Not interested."
Bruce shook his head with a stiff face and turned to leave.
Mark stared at Bruce's retreating back, the fake smile on his face quickly vanishing, replaced by a gritting-teeth expression.
"John?"
Upon hearing Peter calling his name from a distance, the negative expression on Mark's face quickly disappeared.
"Dad, I'm here!"
Bruce walked along the hallway and soon reached the common area.
Breaking news about Gotham on the common area's TV immediately caught his attention.