Inside the luxury apartment, Yongye was going at full throttle.
The television in the living room was on.
The news footage showed an aerial view: the exhaust of a silver-gray shuttle had torn a scorched trail through the clouds above Metropolis, and its hatch was slowly closing.
Superman sat inside the cabin, his hands locked in cold white metal cuffs before him. Facing the camera, he looked drained of all color, his expression so empty and silent it was almost resignation.
His lips moved slightly, but no sound came out. It was as though he wanted to say something, then swallowed it.
The hatch closed from both sides, swallowing his blue-and-red figure behind the metal hull. Only two pale blue jets remained, shrinking in the shot until they became a blurred point of light.
The news anchor's voiceover came in right on cue:
"According to the latest report from our correspondent on the scene, Superman has officially been handed over to the Kryptonian representatives. General Mark Lonsdale signed the transfer agreement on Earth's behalf, and both sides have expressed optimism about the peace process ahead..."
The feed cut to a row of temporary microphone stands in the plaza below.
General Mark Lonsdale's silver hair was impeccably combed, and two ribbons hung from his collar. He wore the easy smile of a man fresh off the golf course as he addressed the camera:
"...Through friendly, candid discussions, we have reached a historic consensus with the Kryptonian representatives. Superman cooperated voluntarily, demonstrating an exceptional humanitarian spirit. The United States will not face any military strikes. Our cities are safe. This marks the first step toward peaceful coexistence between humanity and an alien civilization..."
The longer he spoke, the smugger he grew, his chin rising higher and higher like a quail that had