The jet-black Batplane landed vertically on the cracked asphalt road, the airflow dispersing all the surrounding dust and smoke.
A tall figure clad in black Kevlar armor stepped out.
Bruce looked past the flashy aliens and super-powered kids and focused his gaze precisely on the Asian youth.
He knew that his presence here was extremely dangerous; the young man before him possessed the power to flatten the earth with a mere gesture, a feat that even a true god might not be able to accomplish.
For such dangerous targets whose upper limits are completely unpredictable, the safest approach is, of course, to continue collecting behavioral data and profiling them using remote devices, rather than going directly to their location.
But he needed to obtain firsthand intelligence.
If we don't personally probe the other side's bottom line, behavioral logic, and alignment, even if we win this war, Earth could very well just slip from the hands of an alien warlord into the hands of another unspeakable demon.
Bruce chose what he considered the most respectful, yet still classy, posture.
He had no chance of winning through military confrontation, so he planned to use the classic rules of negotiation: first, throw out a slightly vague and accusatory statement to force the other party to reveal their true intentions.
"The aftermath of this disaster is far more devastating than the destruction caused by the disaster itself." Bruce spoke after a moment of contemplation, his deliberately lowered voice processed by a voice changer, giving it a frosted texture.
He stood there waiting for the other party's response, whether it was a defense, disdain, or rage, from which he could extract useful pieces of the profile.
But his plans completely collapsed the moment he encountered Chen Mo.
Chen Mo raised an eyebrow, his figure swaying as he covered a distance of more than ten meters, appearing half a step in front of Bruce in the blink of an eye.
Bruce's eyelids twitched, and he forcibly suppressed his instinctive reaction to back away, standing firmly in place.
"Oh my god, isn't this the urban legend 'Batman? I've always been curious, doesn't that big black bat costume make you hot? The temperature in Metropolis is at least thirty degrees Metropolis now!"
Chen Mo raised his hand and, with practiced ease, tapped the chest of the bat armor, making a few crisp sounds. "Also, could you demonstrate that?"
Chen Mo suddenly gave a look similar to that of the Riki-Oh, and solemnly muttered, "I admire Batman."
Bruce was completely stunned.
He had considered hundreds of possible scenarios when facing this guy, but he hadn't anticipated that this guy would spout such nonsense.
Before he could even reassemble his jumbled words, the red-clad boy, radiating electricity, darted over.
"Wow, you're actually real!" Barry craned his neck to examine the pointed ears on Batman's helmet. "Dude, I've heard about you for ages! Can I get your autograph? By the way, why are you wearing that outfit? Is there a reason?"
"Not only is his attire strange, but he even has a voice changer." Hal, glowing green, slowly floated over, pointing and gesturing with an air of importance. "He's probably afraid his enemies will recognize his voice and smash his windows in the middle of the night."
The atmosphere in the room suddenly became humorous, and the solemn feeling that the future of the earth was about to be decided vanished in an instant.
A rare crack appeared on Bruce's usually taut face.
Chen Mo looked at the group of rookies with their diverse personalities, then glanced at the devastated streets around him, and sighed.
"Alright, stop standing here like a row of wooden stakes, staring blankly. I've just wasted a lot of energy, and now I'm really hungry."
He pointed to the edge of a pile of ruins not far from the street corner.
There was an Arabian kebab shop there, its signboard mostly collapsed, and its metal roller shutter door riddled with holes from flying rubble, but the grill inside was miraculously still intact.
"To celebrate that you all survived this day filled with monsters, I suggest we go over there and get a giant barbecue platter." Chen Mo enthusiastically made the decision, completely disregarding whether the others agreed.
The group exchanged glances, all seeing deep astonishment in each other's eyes.
Clark stepped forward, his expression showing a hint of disapproval. "Mr. Chen, I understand that the biggest crisis has been averted, but there are certainly still many people in the city who need rescue. Shouldn't we rescue them first before discussing celebrations?"
Barry was originally planning to go out for a nice meal with Chen Mo, since he had been in the Speed Force state for a long time and his stomach had started to protest.
But after hearing Clark's words, he nodded repeatedly in agreement, " Clark is absolutely right. The impact of this incident is too widespread, and there are definitely many people who need help. We really need to get down to business first."
Chen Mo rolled his eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched involuntarily.
"That's so long-winded."
He pursed his lips, raised his right hand, and snapped his the Snap crisply.
Hundreds and thousands of slender tentacles surged from his fingertips, rapidly burrowing into the depths of the ruins in all directions.
Clark and the others instinctively took a step back, assuming a defensive stance.
The Power Ring on Hal's right hand lit up with a dazzling green light, ready to construct an energy shield at any moment.
"Relax, no need to be so alarmed. I'm just wrapping things up for this." Chen Mo lowered his hand and joked casually.
In the short span of a few dozen seconds he was speaking, the tentacles that had burrowed into the ruins through the cracks had already demonstrated incredible efficiency.
The heavy reinforced concrete walls, each weighing several tons, were easily pushed aside by the fleshy bearded man, and the civilians were carried out one by one, wrapped around their waists, and placed in a relatively flat and spacious safe open space.
Moreover, along the way, those tentacles swept aside all the huge boulders and broken tree trunks that were blocking traffic.
"Alright, the disaster relief mission has been taken over, and the site cleanup is finished too. Now let's go eat in peace." Chen Mo patted his sleeve, his tone exuding an air of undeniable entitlement.
Looking at the unharmed civilians being settled around him, even Clark, who had been on edge the whole time, couldn't find any reason to object.
Twenty minutes later.
Inside that Arabian kebab shop Metropolis the corner of the metropolis, barely managing to retain half its business.
The small, greasy square table, which normally could only accommodate four adults, was now crammed with six eye-catching individuals whose styles were completely out of sync.
The oven in the kitchen was reignited, and the owner was trembling as he brushed spicy sauce onto several skewers of lamb with alternating layers of fat and lean meat, the oil sizzling under the high temperature.
Barry was clutching a freshly baked hot flatbread in his left hand and two large handfuls of meat skewers in his right, his mouth stuffed full, too busy to even speak.
Hal didn't stand on ceremony at all, directly using the Green Lantern energy to materialize a huge, semi-transparent plate in mid-air, and was constantly using a fork to poke at the freshly fried onion rings in front of him.
Clark sat on the outermost plastic stool, looking somewhat cramped due to his tall stature, his long legs awkwardly tucked into the corner of the table.
Diana, holding a glass, silently observed the men at the table.
Bruce Wayne, however, stood out as an outsider to this mundane scene before him.
He held his arms tightly to his chest, still insisting on wearing the helmet with pointed ears, stubbornly maintaining his aloof, Dark Knights demeanor even in the smoky, cumin-scented environment.