Headlong rushing is not random rushing.
Headlong rushing is certainly not a blind sprint.
It is running with direction, rhythm, and purpose.
It requires a deep insight into the current running situation, strategic calibration of the path ahead, and also an understanding of the dialectical relationship between "headlong rushing" and "random rushing."
In any case, in Ian's opinion, who no longer needed to pass civil service exams, controlling his running rhythm was not easy. The main reason was that the externally attached Speed Force legs ran too fast.
Ian's reaction speed simply couldn't keep up with the running speed of the Speed Force legs. So, several times, he had to rely on pre-judgment and use Instant Transmission to forcibly change direction to avoid obstacles.
Everything around him seemed to have frozen.
Due to not having a speedster's eyeballs, Ian's vision wasn't sharp. The buildings on both sides were blurred into color blocks, and the oncoming car headlights merged into a single blinding river of light.
With just a slight distraction, a crossroads filled with drunken men and women suddenly appeared before him.
"Contemptuous Leap!"
Fortunately, Ian's reaction ability wasn't weak, just not up to the standard of a speedster. He immediately used the Instant Transmission skill to leap to the front of the obstacle.
The drunken men and women were spared from becoming scattered pieces of flesh—and Ian was also spared from becoming the Homelander from the The Boys world, the train that hit the male protagonist's girlfriend.
"This speed is a bit over my estimate."
Ian continued to charge forward, driven by the Speed Force legs.
"PFFT~"
Behind him, when he used Instant Transmission, he left a residual image in his original spot.
The residual image fiercely farted at the group of drunken men and women who were wildly partying in the middle of the road.
This was one of the uses of Ian's newly developed [Tyrant Residual Image]: it could convert the energy left at the original spot into an explosion... or not just a conventional explosion.
Shit, piss, or flatulence.
He could choose one of the three.
How could this not be considered a good deed?
The drunken men and women who suffered the "biochemical attack" scattered, wildly gagging. They sobered up considerably, and Metropolis would clearly have a few fewer infected with [Amebic Warts] tonight.
"HONK HONK~"
A large truck whose driver was dozing off in the back was also spared the fate of needing to live hard.
Of course, Ian was unaware of all this.
Because the second sharp turn was already right in front of his eyes. This time, it was an alley piled high with garbage cans. Ian dodged sideways at the critical moment.
His back scraped past rusty iron garbage cans.
The takeout boxes discarded in the garbage cans were flipped over by the air current. The fried chicken pieces within arced through the air and landed directly into the mouth of a homeless man sleeping nearby on the ground.
The aroma of the food caused the homeless man to instinctively offer praise.
"Oh, my favorite fried chicken. Much better than donuts."
The homeless man mumbled in his sleep.
"My American stuff is the best. This must be a gift from God." The homeless man was awakened by the food aroma and the strong wind. When he found fried chicken in his mouth, he began frantically chewing.
He completely failed to notice that it was stuff splashed out of a garbage can. In fact, he didn't even see Ian's shadow. By the time the homeless man woke up, Ian had already sprinted several more blocks.
There were several close calls along the way, but Ian easily dealt with them.
"Thanks to the Asgardian's shared brain... I didn't expect Thor's brain to be so useful." Ian was using the brains of his believers as a biological computer.
This allowed him, even in his extreme speed state where his nervous reflexes couldn't provide timely and effective responses, to still maximize the certainty that he wouldn't crash into anything.
Thor himself might not have realized that his Asgardian brain possessed such computational power. Ian hadn't expected it either, nor had he anticipated that the Speed Force legs would be so unruly.
Ian tried to adjust the direction.
But they only wanted to drag Ian on a chaotic city-wide rampage—the two Time Wraith legs were like wild horses confined for years, pulling Ian to wildly utilize the Speed Force in the Metropolis night.
Ian couldn't be fooled about what they wanted to do, because Ian had already seen the gradually forming Speed Force tunnel. These two legs clearly wanted to return to the Speed Force.
"ZZZZ—"
The vortex of the Speed Force tunnel spun unstable. However, before Ian could clearly see the scene inside, the rift collapsed, as if an invisible hand had "CLAP" shut it.
It disallowed passage.
The unwilling legs continued to drag Ian, attempting to open the tunnel again and again, but each time ended in failure. Gradually, even that rift vortex no longer appeared.
[Berserker EXP +2]
[Berserker EXP +1]
[Berserker EXP +1]
...
Ian's own legs developed tears from being dragged, but for him, this was actually a reward. He was gradually trying to use his body to twist and control the running direction of the external "skeleton" lower legs.
The external "skeleton" lower legs ultimately had no brain.
And Ian, on the other hand, had more than one brain.
He also had the brains of his followers.
Because of this, the two Speed Force legs were naturally no match for the cheating Ian—gradually, Ian was able to fully control the running direction. He transformed into a red streak of lightning on the city's roads.
Under the Metropolis night sky, the red speedster kicked up a gust of wind in the curtain of rain.
Perhaps due to some characteristic inherent to the Time Wraiths, red electric arcs leaped on the asphalt like living things. Transformers on the utility poles exploded in dazzling sparks as he passed.
Amidst the sounds of "BOOM BOOM BOOM" explosions, the lights on the entire street went out one after another.
Nighttime businesses along the road suffered varying degrees of damage.
"Look! It's The Flash!" a drunk man shouted, pointing at the electrical trail left in the air. "The Flash is in Metropolis! I saw him! That must be The Flash from TV!"
On the dark street, several flashlight beams swayed wildly.
A well-dressed urban elite pushed open a glass door.
His face was gloomy.
"Running to Metropolis in the middle of the night, The Flash must be up to no good!" The urban elite seemed to see through everything. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and continued speaking with absolute certainty.
"Metropolis and Central City are competing for the title of 'Advanced City,' so Central City sent The Flash to ruin Metropolis's image, trying to make us look like a city that can't even afford electricity."
The urban elite was indeed an elite, having been tempered by society's darkest sides. His words made many people suddenly feel clear-headed, as if they had glimpsed a super-hero conspiracy.
"I didn't expect city rivalry to be as simple and unadorned as corporate warfare... even more malicious! I can't even drink coffee and work overtime now!" A female office worker clutching a file bag gasped.
She felt she had found an excuse to take tomorrow off.
Blame The Flash.
Many people felt similarly to the female office worker and agreed with the urban elite's speculation—such is human nature, they are more willing to believe conspiracy theories that super-heroes collude with bureaucrats.
Just then, at the convenience store entrance, a reporter with a stubbled face walked out, biting a hot dog sausage—he had received a special bonus from the editor for his previous report on the *Batman Night Raid on Metropolis Widow* incident.
So, he could eat four or five hot dog sausages at once.
"It might not be city rivalry. This kind of topic doesn't easily gain traction in the news." The reporter squinted. His professional instinct smelled a bigger story.
"Have you considered this? The Flash leaves electricity everywhere he goes. Where does his electricity come from?" This was indeed a tricky angle. The reporter's soul-searching question immediately startled the onlookers on the street.
Of course, ordinary people wouldn't know about the Speed Force.
They were more willing to believe in modern science that they had learned or simply heard about.
"Is he... stealing electricity?"
A young man wearing a baseball cap widened his eyes in shock.
The reporter paused for a moment.
Then, "Although I believe, given The Flash's status, the government would definitely cover this portion of the electricity bill, your statement also works. Your statement will definitely generate high heat."
The reporter immediately pulled out his notebook and began editing the news.
[SHOCKING! The Flash's Mystery! Superhero or Electricity Thief?]
He truly had a knack for naming.
It instantly maximized the topic's appeal.
"Just like Batman was definitely bitten by a bat, The Flash was definitely bitten by a high-voltage wire—he's an electrician!" Following his previous discovery of Batman's origin.
The reporter felt he had found The Flash's origin story again.
Or his true identity.
Just when this reporter was feeling surging emotions, convinced that his news would win an award again, and his late-night hot dog sausages would upgrade from five to ten.
"ZZZZ~"
The four-legged Flash had already sprinted to the city's outskirts. Ian had almost mastered his external "skeleton" lower legs. His target was naturally LexCorp's factories outside the city.
Outside the city, there were no streetlights, but there were some car lights.
"My power is not just to protect myself, but to protect the people I love and this city." The grassroots superhero Black Lightning was stomping on a gang leader, living out his own story.
Electricity crackled around him.
Three trucks loaded with military arms were frozen in the air by his electromagnetic field.
Like beetles pinned in a specimen box.
As a man born and raised in Metropolis's "Suicide Slum," Black Lightning's background was very traditional. His father had been shot and killed in an accident.
So, Black Lightning struggled with his mother and hadn't felt fatherly love since he was very young—of course, unlike most single young men who might dabble in singing, dancing, and rapping.
Black Lightning chose to become a teacher and, driven by destiny, became a superhero. He could release and manipulate electrical energy and had the potential to control electromagnetic properties like Magneto.
Now, Black Lightning was an established, third-tier superhero, dedicated to solving problems that Superman didn't have time to handle, such as the extremely vicious smuggling case before him.
"Several truckloads of smuggled weapons, ready to be shipped to Mexico?" Black Lightning lightly tapped the foremost cargo container with the tip of his boot. The metal casing peeled open like a banana peel under electromagnetic force.
"This is enough to land you in prison for a lifetime—or perhaps several lifetimes." Black Lightning attempted to use his hoarse voice to intimidate others in the manner of Batman's low growl.
However, the gang leader he was stepping on seemed to be a tough guy. Facing Black Lightning's threat, his expression remained cold, showing no sign of despair or panic.
He was incredibly calm.
The other gang members were the same.
Of course, their calm demeanor and tough-guy image didn't last long—red lightning streaked from afar, crashing directly through the three large cargo containers at a speed difficult for the naked eye to catch.
"You're welcome."
Ian was only passing by, incidentally helping the wild, third-tier superhero destroy those dangerous goods. After all, those firearms clearly weren't legitimate and would definitely endanger his Metropolis if brought into the city.
"RUMBLE~"
The metal cargo containers twisted and burst open like soda cans crushed by a giant.
Hundreds of firearm parts sprayed into the night sky like falling flower petals.
They traced shining parabolas in the moonlight.
Then, they were all destroyed by the golden lightning Ian pretended to throw—it was actually heat vision, but Ian swiped his eyes and naturally made it look like The Flash's ability to throw lightning.
As long as he performed the throwing motion, everyone would believe Ian was the real Flash. Look, Black Lightning, as a nearly third-tier superhero, clearly didn't notice anything amiss.
"FLASH!"
Black Lightning roared loudly in the direction Ian disappeared. "This is my case! This is my business! Go back to your Central City! Did you ask Superman before coming to Metropolis?!"
"Uninvited Flash! Did you pay the 'Hero Residency Fee' to Superman's agent?!" His questioning was furious, carrying a sense of being personally offended.
"??????"
Ian, who had already run three kilometers away, suddenly stumbled.
"Hero Residency Fee?"
Ian felt someone was stealing his future ideas from the past again.
He was genuinely confused.
Black Lightning's words made him frequently look back, but his speed did not decrease.
The main reason was that the two heavy artillery pieces he had smoothly lifted from the cargo container were clearly surplus American military stock and couldn't be used to brake—of course, not being able to brake wasn't a big problem either.
Ian could instantly transport to the sky and then detach the external legs as a braking solution.
"No, I swear, this really has nothing to do with me." Since Ian had run too far, his defense of his reputation couldn't be heard by Black Lightning, who had been left far behind.
Black Lightning was still fiercely shouting insults at The Flash—the vocabulary was certainly rich. However, there was someone whose emotional turmoil was even greater than his.
The previously tough gang leader was clearly more devastated.
"NO!!!"
The gang leader screamed hysterically, looking at the wreckage on the ground. His subordinates also cried out, asking what to do. Their voices carried an unusual panic.
"Hmm?"
Black Lightning was greatly puzzled by this.
"Someone destroyed your evidence for you. Why are you so unhappy?" Black Lightning frowned, suppressing his dissatisfaction with The Flash.
The gang leader struggled to remove the belt used to tie him up.
"Unhappy? Am I just unhappy?" The gang leader and his subordinates rushed towards the debris on the ground. The components had all been reduced to charred ashes.
"I'm about to be fired! Damn Flash! Look what he's done!" The gang leader wailed, rolling on the ground covered in ashes, his face full of rage.
"Fired? What do you mean? You have a superior?"
Black Lightning sensed something was wrong. Electricity began to surge in his hands. He was about to threaten the gang leader to uncover the larger criminal organization he hadn't discovered.
Perhaps he would enter the Justice League because of this?
While imagining this, Black Lightning's fantasy was quickly shattered.
"Superior? I'm CIA! We're all hired by the CIA! Jefferson Pierce! You're screwed just like me! This cargo was ordered by the President to be shipped to Mexico!"
The gang leader's angry response directly burned out Black Lightning's CPU.
"??????"
His face was blank, and the current in his hands became unstable.
"No! According to my intelligence, you are clearly operatives of the Mexican super-drug cartel planted here in America!" Black Lightning questioned, his eyes shaking violently.
The gang leader just cursed wildly in response.
"You have sh*t for intelligence! Dammit! Use your pig brain to think! If we're CIA, then the super-drug cartel is naturally just a bunch of wolf cubs we, the CIA, are raising externally!"
"This is national strategy—Jefferson Pierce!"
"If you can't return my weapons, you'll be the one going to jail. I guarantee you won't have a lifetime there."
The gang leader retaliated by threatening Black Lightning.
He didn't look like he was lying.
Because he was genuinely panicked and angry.
"..."
Black Lightning found it hard to accept this absurd reality. He thought the evil he had stopped was, at most, a large criminal organization. Who would have thought he'd run into a state apparatus?
Weapons officially smuggled by America.
Was that still evil?
For a moment, Black Lightning fell into a brief confusion about his career.
"But... the one who destroyed your weapons was The Flash..." He knew he couldn't figure out the answer right away, but he felt he should emphasize certain points.
The previously cold and ruthless Black Lightning now seemed slightly timid. No choice, the other party even called out his real name.
He had two daughters.
He didn't want his daughters to be legally sent back to the ancestral land where their forebears lived.
"Huh? You were the one who caught us, and you were the one who put the stuff there. Who else could be the culprit?" The gang leader's twisted logic deeply shocked Black Lightning.
Of course, he understood.
This was about pinning the blame on the easier target. The CIA might not be able to deal with The Flash, but the CIA could certainly deal with Black Lightning. There was indeed a difference between third-tier and first-tier superheroes.
"..."
Black Lightning fell into silence.
He felt his career had encountered an unprecedented challenge.
Blame The Flash?
Heh.
Could he afford to provoke the person the CIA couldn't? The Flash was from the Justice League. According to Superman's agent, the Justice League was a unionized organization.
"That's right! I paid the money! They can't not help me with this!" Black Lightning wasn't timid by nature, but facing a state apparatus, he genuinely didn't know how to respond.
"I paid the residency fee! I'm a reserve member! I must seek help from the organization when something happens!" After a sudden flash of insight, Black Lightning quickly pulled out an encrypted phone and walked to a corner.
He threatened the CIA agents before dialing a number. The phone rang for twelve full rings before being answered. A deliberately hoarse whisper came from the other side.
"Speak. What is it?"
The voice was concise and clear.
"It's like this..."
Black Lightning explained the tricky situation he was facing, trying to seek a solution from the "Agent" on the other end of the line. The person on the phone then fell into a long silence.
"Hmm?"
Black Lightning immediately felt something was wrong.
"You promised me that joining the reserve, getting a license, would grant me a series of benefits!" He lowered his voice, but there was still a hint of accusation in his tone.
"Uh... but my brother's comic book, no, I mean, my brother who's responsible for making those detailed rules, didn't mention how to handle this kind of situation."
The voice on the other end was very helpless, as if hitting a knowledge blind spot.
"If you can't fix it, then refund the money! Damn you! Refund the money!" Black Lightning was so angry that electricity surged around him. He seemed about to awaken a new ability. He was truly furious, feeling he had been scammed.
At the mention of a refund, the other side instantly panicked.
After all, the money had been spent, and the purchased goods had been destroyed.
"I didn't say I wouldn't help you find a solution. Oh, come on, when the strategist of our management department returns, he'll definitely come up with a perfect solution for you."
"You have to trust his wisdom. He's the smartest person in our family... in our department." The voice on the other end could no longer maintain its hoarseness, sounding anxious to explain.
It was also lowered, as if the speaker was hiding in a corner.
"Can you really solve it? I don't think your organization is a legitimate one." Black Lightning didn't actually believe the half-grown boy, but he did believe the heat vision that shot out of the boy's eyes.
"Of course, it's a legitimate organization. Don't doubt our organization's background—in fact, if you pay enough money, I can even get you Superman's underwear."
"Unwashed ones cost extra."
The person on the other end seemed to perk up instantly when mentioning selling merchandise.
However, Black Lightning was silent.
"I don't need that. I just need to solve the trouble I have now." He spoke helplessly, increasingly feeling the other party was unreliable, but he genuinely couldn't find connections in any other high-level hero circles.
"Understood!"
The person suddenly lowered his voice.
"Gotta go. I have to go serve The Flash. He's too difficult to handle." With that, the mysterious person hung up the phone, leaving Black Lightning bewildered with the dial tone in his ear.
"The Flash really is in Metropolis! And he must be attending a high-end superhero gathering!" Thinking this, Black Lightning looked with envy in the direction The Flash had left.
He wanted to analyze the location of the gathering from that—of course, regardless of whether Black Lightning was smart or not, there could be no result, as the Flash he saw was actually someone else.
In the distance, in the suburbs,
[Savage Tyrant Experience +13]
[Savage Tyrant Experience +12]
[Savage Tyrant Experience +14]
...
The True, Genuine Flash searched three of LexCorp's factories. His luck was a bit bad, but he wasn't without rewards. He casually grabbed some select beverages from the LexCorp factories and guzzled them down fiercely.
Along the way to the next factory,
[Savage Tyrant Experience +11]
[Savage Tyrant Experience +14]
[Savage Tyrant Experience +11]
In just a few minutes of travel, Ian had completely filled his stomach.
[Savage Tyrant Lv7 (22/640)]
[Strength: 62 ---> 76]
[Constitution: 80 ---> 90]
[Intelligence: 4.8 ---> 5.1]
[Spirit: 36 ---> 39]
[Upgrade Reward: Job Skill Point +1]
Ian was now adept at controlling his external "skeleton" lower legs. Maintaining his unmatched speed, he started sprinting toward another one of LexCorp's suburban factories.
This couldn't be considered a waste of time.
After all, it had the Speed Force boost from the external "skeleton" lower legs.
Everything happened in a flash of lightning.
And gaining some strength improvement always gave Ian a bit more confidence. He still hadn't figured out what the Reverse-Flash meant by "the beginning of the Justice League's downfall."
"Also, the pain of losing family will make us grow... Is it another death of Superman? No, it's not like that, because Reverse-Flash said today is only the beginning of the Justice League's downfall." Ian, who maintained a state of shared brain, had astonishing computational abilities. He suddenly seemed to realize something, his expression drastically changing.
A terrifying thought flashed through the boy's mind, causing him to suddenly leap up, turn three hundred and sixty degrees, and rush toward the city center without hesitation.
The heavy rain continued.
Ian's figure was filled with anxiety.
At this moment, his original destination factory was actually within close proximity behind him.
It was a sewage treatment plant.
The interior was completely silent.
There were no employees, only two superheroes in the basement.
The basement was dimly lit.
The air was filled with a mixture of metal and chemical reagents.
"No wonder I couldn't find this place before." Superman touched the thick wall. The wall's interior was filled with a thick lead plate, which blocked his X-ray vision.
As for the innermost layer, it was inlaid with some unknown rare metal. Superman and Wonder Woman had tested it. This unknown metal could even shield his super-hearing.
"It seems Lex has figured out how to guard against you." Wonder Woman's Lasso of Truth glowed faintly in the darkness. She observed the surroundings, and a bad premonition arose in her heart.
"Whatever Lex doesn't want you to find is definitely not a good thing," Diana said firmly. After all, Lex's reputation was well known among all the world's superheroes.
"Yes, that's Lex."
Superman was also very certain of Diana's judgment.
The two continued down the steel stairs. Their footsteps were unusually clear in the confined space. As they went deeper, the air became permeated with a more concentrated and pungent chemical smell, mixed with a faint scent of blood.
"That's Kryptonian blood scent. Strictly speaking, it's my blood scent... but there's something else too." Superman's sense of smell was far superior to many people whose superpower was smell.
He wrinkled his nose.
His eyes became a little more serious.
"Your clone must be hidden by Lex in this place." Diana's nose wasn't as sensitive as Superman's, but she did sense that this underground base was unusual.
Such a massive investment in construction would certainly not be an ordinary research base.
The two continued down a narrow staircase. Footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. The air became increasingly oppressive further down. At the end of the stairs was a heavy metal door, stamped with the LexCorp logo. Just as Wonder Woman was about to step forward, Superman melted the lock with his heat vision.
"ZZZZ~"
The heat vision dissolved all the metal, revealing the room hidden behind the metal door.
It was a secret chamber.
In the center of the chamber stood a massive crucifix, to which a barely breathing person was bound with chains.
When they clearly saw the person's face, both Superman and Wonder Woman's expressions instantly froze—it was another Clark! Beneath the messy black hair was a face identical to Clark's!
Of course, there were subtle differences. The bound Clark's skin was pathologically gray-white, with purple veins, and a dark green substance flowed through those veins.
The "S" shield on this Superman's chest was badly corroded by some acidic substance and was completely blurred.
"Is this the clone you mentioned? He's quite frightening." Wonder Woman unconsciously took half a step back. The light of the Lasso of Truth illuminated her tense jawline.
She was genuinely nervous.
After all, most members of the Justice League had been beaten up by Superman.
Diana was no exception.
She truly knew how painful it was to be beaten by Superman.
"Lex... what is he doing?"
Superman didn't answer Wonder Woman's question.
His eyes were locked on the seemingly ordinary wall behind the crucifix. His pupils contracted violently, as if he saw something terrifying through that wall.
"Clark?"
Wonder Woman was worried her teammate was being mind-controlled.
She took a few more steps back.
Superman didn't complain about that. Clark's expression was unprecedentedly shocked. He slowly walked forward, circling past the bound version of himself on the crucifix.
"Here."
Clark's trembling hand pressed against the cold wall. With a groaning sound of twisting metal, he ripped the entire wall open. A blinding light instantly poured out from inside.
The space before them was immensely vast, like a giant underground hall. Countless automated machines were running, emitting a low humming sound. In the center of the hall were rows of neatly arranged dark green incubation pods.
Inside them were hundreds of sights that made Superman break out in a cold sweat, his voice hoarse, and his heart churn with turmoil—every incubation pod held a life form currently being cultured.
They were all him!
They were all Superman Clark!
Yes!
In this underground space the size of a football field, hundreds of three-meter-high dark green incubation pods were lined up. Each pod was connected to a complex network of tubes, and the bodies suspended in the malevolent nutritional fluid were one Superman clone after another! Every single one bore the marks of being corrupted and enhanced by malevolent energy!
"I know he's crazy, but I didn't expect him to be this crazy." Clark looked around at all the "himselves." He couldn't help but gasp.
To be fair, Superman's emotions were still relatively stable.
Wonder Woman, stepping forward, saw this sight, and her beautiful face turned several shades paler. Her eyes were practically bulging out. Her whole body looked abnormally stiff.
"Tell me this isn't real."
Diana swallowed, her hand gripping her weapon trembling.
And at that moment,
"BOOM BOOM BOOM~"
Perhaps someone was controlling them.
All the Supermen in the incubation pods opened their eyes. They simultaneously swung their fists. The glass of hundreds of incubation pods shattered at once, and the pale blue nutritional fluid spewed out like a tsunami.
"ZZZZ~"
Amidst a buzzing sound, the clones all slowly floated out.
They hovered in the middle of the room.
Hundreds of pairs of red-glowing eyes lit up under the illumination.
Their movements were chillingly uniform.
"Diana, go grab Lex."
Clark's voice was unusually calm.
"I'll handle this here."
He seemed not to fear the large number of clones in the slightest.
"Okay!"
Wonder Woman's fingertips dug into her palm.
She knew that if these clones possessed power comparable to Superman's, any help she provided here would be meaningless. Her greatest help to Clark was to quickly catch the culprit.
So, Diana immediately acted.
But when she couldn't help but look back at Clark, who had charged into the lab and was smashing several clones together, a hand suddenly shot up and grabbed her wrist.
The grip was immensely strong.
Even a demigod could hardly break free.
"Damn it!"
Wonder Woman was about to strike the clone who had suddenly awakened on the crucifix.
But the clone raised his head.
"Lex... wants Superman... to destroy this... world." This statement instantly made Wonder Woman turn pale with shock. The blade in her hand stopped mid-swing. Wonder Woman realized the other party might be able to communicate.
"What?"
Wonder Woman's pupils contracted.
"What benefit does Lex get from doing this? If Superman destroys the world, Lex won't survive either. What's his motive?"
She was utterly bewildered by the weak Superman's words.
Upon questioning, the "Zombie Superman" bound by chains weakly raised his head.
His cracked lips moved.
"He... is not your... Lex..." The zombie-like Superman suddenly roared. His fingers suddenly tightened, and the force was so great that Wonder Woman's wrist armor groaned under the strain.
However, Wonder Woman could no longer worry about her equipment.
She heard,
"They... are not..."
The Zombie Superman re-entered unconsciousness after expending his last strength.
However, the sentence struck Diana like a bolt of lightning.
"They?"
Which "They"?!
Just as Wonder Woman's mind buzzed, as if realizing something terrifying—on the other side of Metropolis, in a newspaper office that occupied an entire building, Lois Lane was petting a cat and working late on an article.
"What do you mean 'getting ready to go home and get beaten up'? Ian is really asking for a beating, isn't he!"
She was under pressure from her boss, writing a news piece about "Superman in Stockings."
Her head was throbbing.
"MEOW~"
Suddenly, the ginger cat, which had been purring, abruptly sat up on Lois's lap, its fur bristling. It raised its eyes and looked towards the distant elevator entrance.
"DING DONG~"
The elevator doors slowly opened.
A beautiful "Diana" stepped out from within.
***
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