mtl008 Chapter 4330 Body of Steel (35)
Chapter 4330 Body of Steel (35)
Chapter 4330 Body of Steel (Thirty-Five)
"Hey? Louise? Did you see the email I sent you? What do you think of this topic?"
Sitting at his desk in his hotel room, Clark adjusted his glasses, switched the phone to his earpiece, and continued writing on his computer.
"You think it's pretty good too? That's great! Yes, that's what I was thinking too. It would be even better if it could help someone along the way."
"Really? Go ahead, I'm listening... Now that you mention it, it does seem true. Just asking questions isn't enough; you have to experience it for yourself. But, with my appearance..."
Clark looked troubled and said, "I'm not bragging, but it seems a bit far-fetched to say I'm an illegal immigrant. Besides, I don't speak Spanish."
"Finding an undercover agent? That's a good idea. You know what, I actually left my business card with two illegal immigrants... Really?" Clark frowned, switched the phone, and said, "They can't possibly hold me responsible just because they were undercover once, can they?"
"Okay, you're right. I really can't contact them directly. What if they try to blackmail me or frame me?"
"What?! That dangerous? Three people have already gone missing? My God. Okay, you're right. I'll think about it carefully."
After hanging up the phone, Clark sighed deeply. This matter was indeed not as simple as he had thought. He had just shared his draft with Louise. Louise expressed her approval of his topic but also pointed out that his investigation was not in-depth enough.
Clark agreed. Investigative journalists, by definition, have to investigate firsthand. Just asking a few questions is something an interviewing journalist can do too.
But with his appearance, there's no way he could get a job as an undocumented worker. As mentioned before, because of his superhuman defenses, even after working on the Kent family farm for over a decade, his skin remained smooth and delicate, without a single trace of labor. Someone like that looks like he's traveling incognito; no employer would hire him.
Therefore, the best way is to find undercover agents: find two people who are working illegally, give them some money, and then have them record some videos to document some real events.
But Louise specifically told him not to show himself, because it could be very dangerous.
Leaving aside the issue of these people demanding exorbitant prices, many investigative journalists who disappear every year do so while going undercover. Every region has its local bullies, and there are definitely undocumented workers among them. If someone targets you, it could be a real problem.
Clark wasn't worried about them launching a physical attack, but what was infuriating was that if these people were truly determined to harm him, they could easily turn the tables on him in the media, accusing him of making false reports, fabricating evidence, or spreading rumors.
Therefore, Clark felt that it was best if he didn't get involved. But finding a middleman was also troublesome. The most ridiculous thing was that while there were professional middlemen to sign contracts with Sugar Daddy, there were no undercover agents.
Clark racked his brains but couldn't think of anyone to turn to. People like Diana were novices, let alone capable of dealing with those local bullies. Colonel Jones might be able to handle it, but that would be overkill, and it wouldn't be good to bother him.
Unable to figure it out, and too lazy to think about it anymore, and it was sunset anyway. Clark changed into his sports jacket, ready to go out for a few more laps.
As he ran, he approached the beach. The sunset on the beach was even more beautiful, and Clark stopped to watch. Even though he had disguised his appearance with glasses and other items, in less than 10 minutes, probably more than 100 people had approached him. Clark couldn't take it anymore, so he found a bar nearby, ordered a drink, and sat down.
Clark took a sip of the drink, then sighed again. This drink didn't have the same warm feeling he'd had before. So, he was drunk because of the green gemstone powder.
He couldn't come up with a solution, and the wine was becoming increasingly tasteless. Clark was extremely bored and prepared to go back to rest. Just then, a figure sat down next to him and placed a small bag of powder beside him.
"Would you like some of this?"
“No,” Clark replied with a hint of disdain. He was extremely averse to drugs. He could consume these human drugs by the pound without any effect.
Just as he was about to get up and leave, Clark caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye that the small bag of powder was actually green.
He looked up and saw Schiller smiling at him.
Clark jumped up and down, nearly getting stuck in the ceiling. When he landed, he said irritably, "What are you doing here?!"
“I own the bar,” Schiller said.
"You put gemstone powder in my drink that day?!"
Schiller nodded.
"When...when did you release it?"
Schiller patted him on the shoulder, then pointed in a direction. Clark looked in that direction, but saw nothing.
"I own this entire street."
Clark's eyes widened.
“I told you before, I run a small business,” Schiller said with a shrug.
Clark was speechless. He sighed and sat down anyway. His main concern was that if he didn't stay, Schiller would come to his house and tell him that he also owned the hotel. This was unbearable.
“However, I didn’t really have any businesses in the US before,” Schiller said with a smile. “I owe my success to you.”
"What do you mean?"
"I bought the dip when Luther Group's stock plummeted."
Clark's fists clenched tightly. Fortunately, he had made great progress in controlling his emotions. He patiently forced a smile and said, "This isn't thanks to me, it's thanks to you."
"If you had also bought at the bottom, then you could say that. Unfortunately, you didn't. Actually, I'm quite curious why you didn't buy."
"me……"
Clark suddenly remembered seeing the news about the sharp drop in Luther Group's stock. Why didn't he buy any?!
“Alright, that’s all in the past,” Schiller said. “Would you like something of this?”
"Where did you get so many gems???"
“This isn’t a gemstone,” Schiller said, shaking his head. “This is called Kryptonite, and it’s specifically designed to kill Kryptonians.”
"what?!"
"You'll have to ask Batman for the specifics; I can't explain it to you. Okay, let's get down to business. I heard you've run into some trouble."
Clark had a lot of questions he wanted to ask, but considering the difficulties he faced, he decided to address the immediate problem first. He took a sip of his drink and said, "To be honest, I want to investigate illegal immigration. But the waters here are very deep, and I don't know what to do."
"That's easy. How do you want to investigate?"
"Hmm... I'd like to find two undercover agents. Actually, I've already contacted people, but I think it's better not to do it myself. I'd like to find a middleman."
“I can help you,” Schiller said, “but you have to promise me you’ll cooperate with the experts for desensitization training.”
"Why do you insist on having me..."
"I told you, this thing is your nemesis."
"So, it doesn't help me increase my strength?"
"Sure, as long as you don't let it control you, isn't that increasing your power?"
Clark was getting confused. He was about to press for more information when he heard Schiller say, "Most Supermen are countered by it."
Clark's mouth dropped open, and he looked at Schiller in surprise. Schiller nodded and said, "I told you, this thing is specifically designed to counter Kryptonians. Aren't you all Kryptonians?"
"To be honest, the multiverse may be facing a dark crisis. This isn't some small-scale skirmish like before; it's a real battle. Superheroes will all be mobilized for this. The enemy may be very cunning and will use everything to defeat you, including this thing."
Schiller then produced another piece of kryptonite. Clark hesitated for a long time before asking, "So, you want me to..."
“There needs to be a Superman who can step up in crucial moments. I think you can,” Schiller said, looking at him. “Because you’re the Batman of Supermen.”
"what?"
"Perhaps you've already noticed that your counterparts are quite different from you in personality. They trust and rely on Batman a lot. But you can't leave everything to Batman to solve, can you?"
Clark nodded repeatedly. In fact, he now admitted that Bruce was indeed very charismatic, but he still disagreed with the attitude of other Supermen: if there was anything, go ask Batman, go find Batman, and listen to what the amazing Batman has to say.
It's irresponsible to place all the blame on one person. Besides, no matter how smart or charismatic Bruce is, he can't solve every problem. Superman has to be strong.
Upon reflection, he realized Schiller's point was valid. If an independent superhero like himself was a minority in the multiverse, what if something happened in the future, and someone came with this green gem to persecute Superman? Would everyone be crying and begging Batman for help? That seemed unreasonable.
The more Clark thought about it, the more outrageous it seemed. He said, "They're going a bit too far. I have to talk to them. We can't rely on Batman for everything. We're no worse than them."
“That’s ambitious,” Schiller praised. He brought over the drink the bartender had mixed, added the powder to it, and handed it to Clark. Clark glanced at it, a little disgusted, but still took a sip.
It was that familiar warm feeling again. But this time, he didn't feel as dizzy. He took two more sips. Clark took a deep breath and said, "I think you're right. I... I really need to practice this. Just in case something happens, I can still save them..."
"Just focus on cooperating with the training. Leave the middleman to me. After all, I'm in business, and I have connections with all sorts of people. You can rest assured that I'll handle things."
"well……"
When Clark woke up again, he found himself in a hotel. He checked the time and realized it was already noon the next day. He couldn't even remember how much he had drunk the day before.
My head still hurts a little, but it's definitely much better than the first day. I feel a bit dizzy when I stand up, but I can move around freely. Clark feels like he's not far from desensitization.
He strolled leisurely to his computer and found an email from Schiller, inviting him to meet at a coffee shop at 2 PM. Clark scoffed inwardly: Schiller's efficiency has its advantages; he thought Schiller was only good at tricking him.
When they arrived at the agreed-upon coffee shop, they found Schiller sitting there again. Clark sat down as well, and the two stared at each other. Clark looked at him and said, "Where's the agent?"
“Isn’t this what it means to be sitting here?” Schiller took a sip of coffee.
"You're not talking about yourself, are you?"
"What's the problem?" Schiller spread his hands and said, "I'm a businessman, I know how to deal with those tough opponents. Isn't it most suitable for me to be the middleman?"
"Putting everything else aside, how much will you charge?" Clark asked warily.
"Don't worry, I'm not the kind of person who's obsessed with money." Schiller smiled at him.
"Yes, you just almost killed all of us."
(End of this chapter)