It's 6:10 in the morning.
The kitchen was filled with the aroma of charred bacon and the subtle astringency of black coffee.
Old Joe stood in front of the sink, holding a scalding hot mug.
She changed out of her cotton pajamas into coarse cloth overalls stained with machine oil.
Just then, sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the brown spots on the old man's face clearly.
Where is that young man who did cosplay?
They left before dawn.
John pulled out a chair, sat down, picked up a slice of toast from the table, and took a big bite.
"Oh? Didn't they say we'd just dump him on the highway...? Is his flight device fixed?"
"It's barely fixed; at least I won't die from the fall."
As John spoke, the image of Sinestro awkwardly flying away from Earth suddenly flashed through his mind.
He added something to Sinestro's ring that could easily cause intermittent crashes.
I was inexplicably beaten up, even though it was Sinestro who got beaten up...
Consider it a "small" gift he gave to Sinestro.
"Smack!"
Just then, Old Joe placed a bowl of hot porridge in front of John, the spoon striking the rim of the porcelain bowl with a crisp sound.
Old Joe lowered his eyelids, his gaze lingering on John's clean knuckles for half a second.
He vaguely remembered that there should have been a ring here.
But in the end, he didn't ask anything.
After all... some secrets are like strata of rock buried deep underground; only by leaving them undisturbed can crops grow steadily.
"The water pump bearing in the west irrigation canal is stuck."
At this moment, the first rays of dawn rose from the eastern horizon, bathing the bricks and tiles in a pale gold hue.
Old Joe picked up his coffee, took a sip, and looked out the window.
Under the autumn sun, the boundless wheat fields rippled, filled with a faint earthy fragrance.
" John, we need to get a new set of brass sleeves today."
"Um."
"We'll go after we finish eating."
"Good."
John swallowed the dry, hard bread in a few bites, stood up, and put the plate in the sink.
As he walked to the back doorway, reaching for his work jacket hanging on a nail, he suddenly stopped.
"Dad."
Old Joe was wiping the stove when he turned his head:
"Um?"
"Thanks for last night."
Old Joe didn't turn around.
He simply took a rag and vigorously wiped the shiny stainless steel countertop a couple of times, then casually waved his hand.
"Stop talking nonsense, and remember to bring a wrench... I'm not as strong as you."
9:00 AM, Gotham City.
Beneath Wayne Manor.
On the screen in front of the control console, a satellite topology map located on the western edge of Kansas is progressing in a simulated three-dimensional grid.
Comparison and analysis.
The result, however, was suffocating.
Bruce was somewhat exasperated to discover that all the heat source signals tracked by satellite positioning were completely cut off after entering that agricultural area.
And the most outrageous thing is...
The spherical area completely disappeared within an hour.
To put it simply, it means they "mysteriously" disappeared from the satellite.
Subsequently, all the farmers were thoroughly investigated by the local police under the pretext of "risk assessment."
But there was no trace of it.
Thinking it over, Bruce's fingers typed a long string of encrypted commands on the keyboard.
The entire file has been temporarily archived and placed below the Newcastle Incident:
[File Number: K-001; Code Name: Newcastle; Threat Level: Neighborhood]
[File ID: K-002; Codename: Kansas Unknown Entity; Threat Level: City (Pending)]
"Young master, your oatmeal muffins are getting soggy."
At this moment, Alfred carried the silver tray down the escalator and placed the coffee cup on the edge of the counter.
"You've been staring at these few hundred pixels for a full three hours."
But Bruce didn't touch his coffee, his voice hoarse with a hint of weariness.
"No vehicles, no armor, a landing point on Earth, blending in with civilians..."
"Since Newcastle, there have been more and more anomalies on Earth... so I must eliminate all risks."
" Alf, I've now got the two radar satellites in orbit locked onto Kansas."
As he spoke, Bruce stood up, his cloak billowing slightly in the cold, damp cave.
I need to keep an eye on it.
I just wrote the abnormal energy threshold trigger protocol. As soon as there's even the slightest unusual activity above that wheat field...
So what do you plan to do?
Alfred watched Bruce's retreating figure.
Bruce didn't say anything, but walked to the armory and opened the cabinet door.
"Laugh--"
With a hiss of depressurization, a row of weapons was neatly arranged on the wall.
Anti-high-energy electromagnetic Pulse Negasonic Teenage Warhead, miniature high-explosive bombs, specially formulated liquid nitrogen solidification agents...
Under the rows of cold fluorescent lights, a dim, inverted glow emanated from them.
"I don't need to do anything, Alf..."
Bruce put on black composite Kevlar gloves, his knuckles clenching them, making a squeaking sound as the leather was squeezed.
(I looked up the setting of the Dark Knight trilogy, and the initial version of Batman's costume in this article was based on Kevlar-Nomex composite material.)
Material properties: Bulletproof, cut-resistant (Kevlar), fireproof, insulating, high-temperature resistant (NOMEX)
"But I must make sure of one thing... that the fate of humanity remains in our own hands."
Earth time.
Seven forty-seven in the morning.
The Black Zero, with its jagged, beast-like hull, hovered silently in the cold, desolate vacuum.
The dark red engine nozzles emitted a weak heat, making the surrounding floating stardust glow slightly.
Inside the bridge.
Lieutenant Faora stood in front of the control panel, her fingertips darting across the fluid sensing panel.
Display a set of rapidly approaching star chart beacons:
"General, the main engine is locked, at the current sub-light speed cruise thrust..."
We will reach near-Earth orbit of the target planet in ten Earth days.
"Um."
Zod stood before the circular porthole, his hands clasped behind his back, his somber face revealing a hint of anticipation.
Ten days.
More than 30 years of exile in deep space.
On the cold, macroscopic scale of the universe, this is almost Eternity.
From the moment a Krypton embryo detaches from its genetic mother, it loses the right to "choose".
Freedom is an uncalibrated weight.
Under the double helix, the base pairs prematurely weld off the Kryptonian ' lifelong career.
Scholars predict, politicians build walls.
Each performs their duties until death.
He was a general.
What is a general?
At his peak, he was a pioneer, gnawing at the skeletal remains of deep space.
To explore the depths of civilization and plunder the stars.
After the collapse, he had no choice but to go against the current.
Even if it means crushing all ethics and morality, we must still gather as fuel to continue the embers of civilization.
In life, he was armor; in death, he was a coffin.
He was not a martyr; he didn't even have the "choice" to despair or give up.
This body was designed from the outset to be a cog in the machine that would keep this vast civilization running.
Today, this gear is still turning, and it won't stop.
Zod's gaze pierced through the porthole and landed on that shadowy spot suspended in the boundless vacuum.
It is as insignificant as a speck of dust, drifting in silence.
Fragile, isolated.
But it won't be alone for long...
Zod then slowly raised his hand and placed his palm on the cool, transparent polymer surface.
The heat emanating from the palm quickly stirred up a layer of white mist on the cold inner wall.
However, under the onboard life support system, that meager amount of heat vanished without a trace in the blink of an eye.
The ultimate continuation of Krypton — the Codex of Life.
Right above that swirling dust.