mtl008 Chapter 4307 Body of Steel (2)
Chapter 4307 Body of Steel (2)
Chapter 4307 Body of Steel (Part Twelve)
Another dizzying sensation followed. When Clark regained his senses, he was standing in front of the Kent family farm again, exactly the same place he had seen when he flew over the farm and landed.
Clark stood still, took a deep breath, then exhaled, and stepped inside. But in his view, everything was different.
He first looked at the scattered bundles of straw. If he remembered correctly, they should have been piled up at the far right of the yard, stacked one on top of the other, reaching a height of three or four meters. To scatter these things around the yard, one would have to go around to the outside of the yard and push them over from mid-air to achieve the current effect.
Simply pushing them over won't work; these bundles are tied very tightly, so even if they fall, they'll just roll away as a whole. To completely untangle these straw bales, you have to cut the ropes binding them one by one with a knife.
Then he looked at the tire tracks. Clark didn't recognize many types of cars, and he didn't drive often, but he knew that not all cars could turn in place.
To be precise, most commercial or private vehicles do not have such strong drifting ability that they can drift back seven or eight times in a small yard, leaving so many charred brake marks.
Then look at the collapsed half of the house. It was a warehouse built of stones, quite old. And the last skid mark pointed in the direction of the load-bearing wall of the warehouse; the warehouse had been collapsed by the impact.
Despite being built of stone and over so many years old, the stone houses built by hand in those days were actually quite sturdy, even more so than the wooden houses built later. It would have been difficult to dig them up with a tractor, yet they collapsed after being hit by a single vehicle – and that vehicle couldn't possibly have been an ordinary family car.
Although he didn't know much about cars, Clark knew that while sports cars were expensive, they were designed for speed, not impact power. To achieve that kind of impact effect, you'd need either an armored vehicle or a tank.
He then went inside the house. The overturned dining table was nothing unusual, but the chairs that had been dismantled on the floor were quite bizarre.
If the chair were violently struck, its four legs should have splayed outwards, and even if the center of gravity wasn't in the center, it should have tipped to one side. But what kind of impact would cause the chair's four legs to detach and fly off its sides?
Clark turned to look at the completely destroyed island platform. It was made of bricks; he had helped build it when he was a child, and had even jumped on it. Bricks and slabs—it couldn't have been kicked down with a single kick; it would have taken at least a hammer to smash it down like this.
All of the above inconsistencies point to one answer—this couldn't have been done by those terrorists.
First of all, it's impossible for terrorists to get their hands on armored vehicles. If they had that capability, they wouldn't have been arrested by the police and had to rely on Luther to bail them out.
Even if they could get their hands on a modified car, there was no need for them to circle around the yard. It would only waste time and scare their target.
Untying the straw bundles could be interpreted as an attempt to set the house on fire. However, how much time would it take to leave a lighter after taking the person away? Since the straw had already been untied, there was no reason it wouldn't burn. But the house remained intact and wasn't destroyed, making the untying of the straw a completely futile effort.
The same applies to crashing into a warehouse. The warehouse contained nothing of importance, at most some miscellaneous items and tools, and it was an exceptionally difficult stone structure to navigate. Aside from causing some damage to the vehicle, it served no purpose.
Smashing tables and chairs is completely unnecessary. It's not like a gang is demonstrating; a good kidnapper would arrive silently and leave without a trace. Demolishing homes shouldn't be part of their business, let alone dismantling old wooden furniture—it wouldn't even cause much financial loss.
Destroying the kitchen island was completely unnecessary. A kitchen island can neither hide a person nor pose any threat to intruders. The effort of smashing it down would only create a more visually striking effect; otherwise, it was pointless.
Clark also realized that everything the other party had done was to present a more shocking visual effect, so that when he saw it, he would subconsciously feel that everything had been destroyed, greatly overestimating the seriousness of the matter.
When he flew here with the idea that "some kind of disaster might have happened," seeing this scene felt like a nightmare coming true. This would be extremely stimulating, making him angry and causing him to lose his mind.
But quite counterintuitively, the kidnapping scene shouldn't have been like this at all. His mother, Martha Kent, was just an ordinary human woman, not Wonder Woman. Even if she tried to resist, it's impossible for her to have joined the kidnappers in tearing the house apart like this.
If he had possessed even a sliver of rationality, if he had used his brain even a little bit to think, instead of being completely swayed by emotions, he would have immediately realized something was wrong. Because to a normal person, this scene seemed ridiculously fake.
It's as if the person who did all this was afraid of being too subtle and causing the other person to not be able to react later, so they wanted to do everything they could, including the superfluous and unreasonable things, in an attempt to make him realize something was wrong through exhaustive methods.
However, if he had to pinpoint the most important clue—Clark went back and picked up the pot. He remembered very clearly that his mother, Martha Kent, was someone who vehemently abhorred wasting food.
With a start, Clark woke up. Thankfully, the ceiling wasn't unfamiliar this time; he was still in a military cell. Having figured some things out, he finally began to calm down.
Now, all he has to do is get out of here.
This is no easy feat. His injuries haven't healed; he can't fly, nor can he smash through the ceiling like before. He still possesses considerable superhuman strength, but it would be difficult to directly breach the military base's defenses. Not to mention, this is his second imprisonment, meaning the authorities will be keeping a close eye on him.
"That's right, that officer," Clark thought. He didn't believe that what he had just experienced was a dream he had spontaneously created; the officer must have done something.
"Someone come here! Someone come here!!!" Clark shouted.
He was indeed under close surveillance; not long after he shouted, a soldier approached. Clark said to him, "I need to see your officer!"
After a while, a tall figure walked over. Clark opened his mouth to speak, but when the person got closer, Clark realized that it was a white man.
“No, not you,” he said instinctively. “What about the black man?”
"Black people? Where are there any black people?" The tall white officer frowned and said, "Don't try anything funny with me, you damn aliens. The scientists will be here soon, you won't be able to keep this up for long."
After saying that, he turned to leave, but Clark pounded on the railing and said, "No, wait! I need to find that black officer! I..."
Suddenly, the conversation between Schiller and the black officer that he had overheard flashed through Clark's mind. As if realizing something, he took two steps back and sat back on the bed.
No, everything is wrong, everything is incorrect. Clark thought, is he not here, or did he never exist? How could that be?
One puzzle after another, and Clark felt a splitting headache. That familiar anger was about to surge up again, so Clark quickly took a few breaths to suppress his emotions.
Clark realized he couldn't rely on anyone else; he had to rely on himself. But without his superpowers, how would he get out?
Clark sat there pondering, but before he could come up with anything, two soldiers walked in and gestured for him to stand up.
They were all heavily armed elite personnel; two stood in front, and two others stood behind with guns. Clark pursed his lips, stood up, and had them handcuff him.
Damn it, this thing actually hurts my wrists. Clark gritted his teeth; if he still had his superhuman strength, the handcuffs would be as brittle as paper.
He was led out and walked inside, the entire path consisting of identical corridors, making it almost impossible for Clark to tell which way was which. He then arrived at an observation room with one wall made of glass, and outside stood an elderly man with graying hair and beard—presumably the scientist they had mentioned.
Clark's eyes darted around, and suddenly an idea struck him. He took a deep breath, paying even closer attention to controlling his emotions—this plan could only succeed, not fail, otherwise he would have no chance of leaving.
He sat down at the table, and the officer came to sit opposite him. The officer still seemed a little nervous, but little did he know that Clark was even more nervous than him.
"name."
"Clark Kent".
"Human names?"
"if not?"
"Did you really grow up on Earth?"
“Of course.” Clark took a deep breath and said, “I came to Earth as a baby. My parents adopted me and named me Clark Kent.”
"What is your alien name?"
“I don’t know,” Clark lied. In truth, he did know. He had seen his father’s consciousness, he knew his name was Karl El, but he really didn’t like the name, and he could tell that the officer opposite him was trying to trick him into admitting that he was an alien monster.
How did you come to Earth?
Clark closed his eyes briefly, then said, "Do you know how your mother got pregnant?"
"answer my question!"
"I've already answered that. I was just a baby back then. How would I know how I came to be on Earth?"
"Is this some kind of alien experiment? Are they trying to use Earth as a petri dish?"
“I am not a virus,” Clark said, “otherwise you would all be dead by now.”
The officer was about to say something more when Clark, as if his patience had run out, said, "I don't have that much time to waste with your nonsense. I believe you've already discovered that there's a large spaceship orbiting in near-Earth orbit. The one I destroyed over Metropolis that day was just one of the main ship's smaller escorts, and even that small escort was enough to destroy Metropolis."
"They didn't attack Earth directly with their main ship, but instead sent a small escort ship because they also wanted to test Earth's strength. That's why I stepped forward and blew it up immediately. If it weren't for this making them wary, they would have opened fire on Earth long ago."
Clark placed his hand on the table and said, "Do you think you're capable of shooting that spaceship down? You can't even defend against its attack!"
Clark held up a finger, staring into the officer's eyes, and said, "One shot, just one main-ship cannon shot, and the Earth will be destroyed. They are afraid of my power now and dare not attack rashly, but they will not stay there forever."
Clark stood up, startling everyone. But he simply stood there and said, “I do have a way to deal with that ship, but I just need someone who can take responsibility for it to talk to me. You’d better not send some clueless idiot—becoming my enemy will only cost you your last hope.”
Everyone looked at each other. The officer wanted to say something, but he quickly heard the instructions in his headset and reluctantly turned and left.
Soon, protected by fully armed soldiers, the scientist entered. Before he could even stand still, Clark used all his strength to rush towards him, grabbing the scientist and putting a noose around his neck.
"Don't move!!! Or I'll kill him!!!" Clark shouted.
The dark muzzle of a gun was immediately aimed at him. Clark tried to calm himself down and said in an icy tone, "A spaceship capable of destroying the Earth is right above your heads. At this critical juncture, you can lose countless incompetent generals, but you absolutely cannot lose a truly knowledgeable expert. If you don't want him to die, let me leave."
When I watched Bvs., I don't know if it was Zack Snyder's request or what, but the two actors looked like:
angry.jpg
Super angry.jpg
Super super angry.jpg
Super super super super angry.jpg
(End of this chapter)