Metropolis
On the top floor of a luxury skyscraper hotel
A wave of chatter rippled through the hall the moment the four of us stepped inside.
"Oh—look, it's the Waynes…"
Heads turned almost instantly.
Martha Wayne moved with effortless grace in a sleek black gown, commanding attention without even trying. Beside her, Selina matched the theme in a similar dress—though hers carried a sharper, more playful edge. On Martha's other side stood Bruce and me, both dressed in formal suits, though neither of us looked particularly thrilled about it.
"So, Martha," Selina said lightly as we entered the lavishly decorated hall, her eyes already scanning the room, "what exactly is this function again?"
"I told you, sweetheart," Martha replied with a warm smile, leaning in slightly, "this is the Metropolis Future Initiative Gala. The city's most… influential figures are here today—corporate leaders, philanthropists, military officials. Everyone eager to discuss the future of Metropolis."
Bruce let out a quiet scoff.
"Right. A room full of rich people competing over who's made more money and what new toys they can buy."
"Bruce."
Martha stopped, gently straightening his tie with practiced ease.
"Do try to behave," she said softly, though there was a firm edge beneath it. "I've been invited here as the guest of honor. The least you can do is mingle with people your age instead of silently judging everyone in the room."
Bruce averted his gaze for a moment… then gave a small, reluctant nod.
"Good," she said, satisfied.
She leaned in, kissing each of us on the cheek.
"I'll be nearby if you need anything."
The moment she stepped away, several well-dressed figures quickly approached her, drawing her into conversation.
Bruce watched them for a second before deadpanning:
"This is already unbearable."
"Well, I agree, little bro," Selina said with a wry smile. "I'd much rather be home watching a fashion channel. But no—someone just had to come to this oh-so-important event."
Her eyes slid toward me.
"I told both of you to stay back at the house," I said, loosening my collar slightly.
"Hm." Selina stepped closer, casually hooking her arm around mine. "And miss whatever you're clearly up to?"
Her eyes narrowed playfully.
"What are you hiding, Clark?"
"…Nothing," I sighed.
"There's definitely something," Bruce muttered, his sharp gaze sweeping across the crowd before settling back on me. "First, you asked Mom if you could stay in the Metropolis house for a month. She agreed—and even turned it into a little 'family holiday' by bringing all of us along."
"And then," Selina continued smoothly, "she starts getting invited to all these events—which, fine, that's normal for her…"
"But she usually ignores most of them," Bruce cut in. "Yet this time, she attended every single one. Because you showed interest."
"And you went along to all of them," Selina added, tilting her head. "Every. Single. Time."
Bruce's eyes narrowed slightly.
"This is the fifth function this month. Even Selina gets bored after one or two."
"Hey!" Selina protested.
He ignored her.
"And you," he continued, looking straight at me, "are one of the least patient people I know. So stop dodging the question. What are you doing here?"
He paused briefly.
"Are you looking for someone?" he pressed. "Or waiting for something?"
Selina leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper near my ear.
"Yeah… tell us. Is this some big secret? Because now I really want to know."
I couldn't help but groan under the coordinated assault. Bruce usually kept to himself, but clearly even he found this too suspicious to ignore.
"I… sigh. You'll know when it's time," I said, shaking my head.
"Tch. That's such a boring answer," Selina huffed, letting go of my arm. "Come on, Bruce—let's leave Mr. Mysterious to his secrets and go raid the desserts."
"I don't like sweets," Bruce said flatly.
"Then you can carry plates for me," she shot back with a grin, already dragging him along.
I watched them go, feeling a small twinge of guilt.
I wasn't lying… not exactly.
But even I didn't know for sure if what I was expecting would actually happen.
All I was doing was preparing for the worst.
"I hope I am wrong," I muttered under my breath.
With Bruce and Selina already making their way toward the food tables, and Martha fully occupied with the city's elite, I exhaled quietly.
Might as well use the time productively.
I stopped a passing waiter and asked for a glass of juice. He returned almost immediately.
As I took a sip, my X-ray vision swept across the hall while my hearing sharpened, filtering through layers of conversation. Over the past ten days, I had picked up more than a few useful things this way.
The hall was lined with polished banners, each one stamped with grand declarations:
"The Future of Metahumans, Technology, and Global Security."
Most of the conversations were predictable.
Boring.
But then—
A name caught my attention.
My gaze shifted toward the far end of the hall.
A woman in an army uniform stood there, posture rigid, voice low but firm as she scolded a younger girl beside her.
"…watch your tone. This isn't the place for it."
"As you say, Mom," the girl replied, her voice dripping with just enough sarcasm to be noticeable.
The woman pinched the bridge of her nose.
"If you keep this up, you'll be grounded the moment we get home."
With that, she turned and walked off toward a cluster of military officials, leaving the girl alone.
I took another sip of my drink before walking over.
"Your mom seems… intense," I said casually.
The girl glanced at me, unimpressed.
"You should see her at home," she scoffed.
She was standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows, morning sunlight spilling in behind her. It caught in her long, dark hair, giving it a faint sheen, while her beautiful violet eyes flicked over me in an instant.
She stood out.
Not because she was trying to—but because she wasn't.
While everyone else was dressed to impress, she wore a simple purple t-shirt and pants. Like she didn't care what anyone here thought.
"Oh," she said suddenly, one eyebrow lifting slightly, "you're that kid, right?"
"That narrows it down," I replied dryly.
"The Wayne charity project," she continued, studying me like she was piecing something together. "Smallville. Supposedly brilliant. Definitely suspicious."
I took a slow sip of my drink.
"I didn't realize I had a reputation."
She let out a short laugh.
"Oh, please. It's not exactly a secret. The Waynes suddenly show up with two kids from nowhere—both 'gifted,' one of them sitting in on college lectures before he's even ten?"
Her lips curved into a knowing smirk.
"Yeah. People talk."
"Well, that does sound like me," I said with a small sigh, "but honestly, there are too many young geniuses in this world for me to be considered special."
I wasn't even being modest. Ever since I started accessing Kryptonian knowledge, I had realized just how limited my old understanding of the world had been.
"Oh, smart and humble?" she said with a light chuckle. "Is that the Smallville upbringing talking?"
She straightened slightly and extended her hand.
"Anyway, it's nice to finally meet you. Lois Lane."
"Clark Kent," I replied, shaking her hand, unable to stop a faint smile.
So this really was her.
The future reporter of the Daily Planet… and—my future wife.
Although right now, she was coming off more like a sharp-tongued kid who was trying very hard to be taken seriously.
"I know your name already," she said easily, pulling her hand back. Her eyes flicked over me again, assessing. "But honestly? Looking at you, it's hard to believe we're the same age. What are they feeding you in Smallville—is there something special in the Smallville cows?"
"They're nice?" I offered with a small shrug.
She snorted.
"Okay, you're funny too. That helps." She tilted her head slightly. "You know what? I'm calling you Smallville. Way better than something as generic as Clark."
I raised an eyebrow. Most people would have taken offense to that.
But there wasn't any real malice in her tone—just blunt curiosity.
"As you wish," I said, brushing it off. "I'll stick with Lois."
"So tell me," she said, stepping a little closer, lowering her voice just enough to sound conspiratorial. "You and that girl over there—"
She gestured toward the food tables.
"Selina," I added, taking another sip of my juice.
"Right, Selina," Lois continued, eyes glinting with interest. "Are you two Thomas Wayne's illegitimate children or something?"
"—Cough!"
I nearly choked on my drink.
"Obviously not," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Huh. You sure?" she asked, one eyebrow rising. "Maybe you just don't know it yet."
"I'm very sure our father isn't Thomas Wayne," I replied, a hint of irritation slipping through.
"Come on, think about it," she pressed, clearly enjoying herself now. "Martha Wayne suddenly becomes the godmother of two random kids from Smallville right after her husband dies. And the way she treats you in public? That's not just charity for show—there is personal love involved."
She crossed her arms, looking far too pleased with her own reasoning.
"Honestly? It makes perfect sense. Secret kids, tragic backstory, rich widow trying to fix things—it practically writes itself."
"That's… an impressively constructed theory," I admitted dryly. "Unfortunately, it's also completely wrong."
I gave her a small glance.
"You've got quite the imagination, though. Ever considered becoming a writer?"
"Hmph. I don't want to write fake stories," she said, looking away.
"Oh?" I tilted my head slightly, feigning curiosity. "So you're more interested in the truth, then? Something like… a reporter? A journalist?"
"Yes—exactly!" she said, her eyes lighting up. "What's the point of writing anything if it isn't real? People deserve the truth. Someone has to dig it up and show it to them."
There was a spark in her expression now—sharp, determined.
"Well," I said, lifting my now-empty glass slightly, "that's an admirable goal. I hope you make it."
"…Yeah," she sighed, the energy fading just a bit. "Me too."
I frowned slightly.
"Did I say something wrong?"
I gestured to a passing waiter for another glass of apple juice.
Lois hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"Do you know who my mom is?"
"That… scary lady?" I said, glancing back in her direction.
"Yeah," Lois muttered. "GeneralEleanor Lane. U.S. Army."
Across the hall, the woman in the high-ranking military uniform stood out effortlessly. With her short black hair and perfectly straight posture, she carried herself like someone who commanded the entire room without needing to raise her voice. There was a sharp, serious aura around her—but it didn't take away from how strikingly beautiful she looked.
"And she wants both her daughters to follow in her footsteps," Lois continued with a quiet sigh.
I couldn't help but let my X-ray vision flicker for a moment, appreciating just how incredible her physique was.
Lois suddenly grabbed my sleeve.
"Hey—don't stare too much," she whispered. "She'll think I'm badmouthing her again."
I looked away, suppressing a small smile.
"So," I said lightly, turning back to her, "future General Lane?"
"Hmph. I don't want to be called that," she said with a sigh. "But both me and my little sister are already being trained daily for it."
She crossed her arms, clearly annoyed.
"And the worst part? My little sister already agreed to join the army. Which makes me look bad for saying no."
"Is that her?" I asked, glancing back toward a blonde girl standing beside Eleanor. She wore a cute blue dress and was happily munching on cookies from an overfilled plate.
"Yes. Lucy," Lois said, her tone softening for a second before turning irritated again. "I love her to death, but she's such a manipulative brat. She does things just to make my life harder."
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.
"Like today—Mom asked us to wear dresses for this event. I said no, obviously. But Lucy agreed instantly. So guess who got a ten-minute lecture about how 'well-behaved' Lucy is and how I'm setting a bad example as the older sister!!"
"Hey, no need to get worked up," I said with a small wry smile, noticing how heated she was getting. "Here—have something cold."
I picked up the two glasses the waiter had just brought and handed one to her.
"Thanks," she muttered, taking it.
"You know… she was at work the whole day on my birthday last month," Lois added after a moment. "She did get me an expensive camera to make up for it, but still…"
She took a sip, her eyes drifting toward her mother across the hall.
"She wasn't always like this," she said quietly. "We moved around a lot because of her job, but… we were still happy."
Her grip on the glass tightened slightly.
"But after Dad died of cancer…" She let out a soft breath. "Yeah."
"Hey." I gently placed a hand on her back, rubbing it in a soothing motion.
"Huh—sorry," she said quickly, stepping back with a small, awkward laugh. "I just started rambling about my life."
"I lost my Pa recently too," I said quietly, my gaze drifting toward the window. "It hasn't been easy for my family either… so I get it."
I exhaled slowly.
"But I think the only way I can really honor him… is by living my life the way he would've wanted."
"That's…" she paused, then gave a small smile. "That's actually a really nice way to look at it."
"Yeah," I said, glancing back at her. "So don't give up on what you want. I'm sure your dad wouldn't want that."
For a second, her violet eyes just stared at me—caught off guard.
Then she quickly looked away, pretending to fix her hair.
"…Yeah. You're right," she muttered, taking another sip.
Silence settled between us for a moment.
But I could feel her glancing at me again… and again.
"Is there something on my face?" I asked, touching my cheek in mild confusion.
She raised an eyebrow, studying me openly this time.
"Has anyone ever told you, Smallville, that you're kind of handsome?"
"Uh…" I let out a small chuckle. "Ma says that pretty much every day."
"And you're deceptively easy to talk to," she added, swirling her drink lightly. "Definitely not like the rest of the rich kids in this room."
She gestured subtly toward the crowd.
"Just look at them. The Luthor siblings? So arrogant they barely acknowledge anyone. The Queen kids are here just to entertain themselves at other people's expense. And your so-called brother—Bruce? Not terrible, but way too gloomy."
She took a small sip.
"Honestly, I'd rather sit through one of my mom's lectures than try to hold a conversation with most of them."
"You know quite a lot," I said, raising an eyebrow.
Her observations weren't wrong. I had met the Luthors and the Queens at previous events—they fit her descriptions almost perfectly.
"Heh, that's because I've got sharp ears and a sharper mind," she said with a smug little grin. "I don't just listen—I pick up on what people try to hide."
"Oh? That does sound impressive," I said, humoring her.
"Hmph. You don't believe me?" she shot back, lifting her chin slightly. "Fine, let me prove it."
She leaned in a little, lowering her voice.
"Do you know why they're really hosting this Metahuman Gala in Metropolis? Why there are so many military officers, corporate big shots… even reporters from the Daily Planet and other outlets?"
I tilted my head slightly.
"Why?"
She glanced around, then gestured for me to lean closer. I did, and she whispered into my ear—
"Apparently, a single unregistered meta tore through a major gang in Southside." Her breath brushed lightly against my ear. "That scared the people at the top. Now they're pushing for stricter metahuman regulations."
I stayed silent, listening.
"At the same time," she continued, pulling back slightly, "some corporations—like the Luthors—are opposing that. They want to expand Hero Licensing instead… even integrate metas into the military."
Her eyes flicked toward the crowd.
"They've already started collaborating with companies like Queen Industries… and even Vought."
"Is that so?" I muttered, genuinely surprised.
"Yeah. It's a mess. Both sides are pulling strings," she said, straightening up. "And I'm pretty sure they're going to try and get your 'godmother' on their side to tip the balance."
She folded her arms, a smug smile returning.
"See? I do know what I'm talking about."
"Well… you certainly do," I said with a faint wry smile.
My gaze drifted across the room—the politicians, the executives, the officers… all gathered under one roof.
Because of me.
Because of what I had been doing in the Southside.
For the first time, I could feel it clearly—
My actions weren't just small, hidden ripples anymore.
They were starting to shape the world itself.
And that…
was a little terrifying.