"Mom—Selina—are you both alright?" Bruce asked, slightly out of breath.
"I'm fine," Martha replied quickly, gripping both of their hands tightly. "Are you two alright?"
"I'm okay," Selina said, though her eyes still flicked toward the building, lingering fear in them.
They had been escorted out of the hotel along with the other VIPs. Normally, everyone would have been directed toward private exits, cars, or even helicopters on the terrace—but after watching a plane nearly crash into the building, no one wanted to remain inside.
Now the entire crowd had gathered in front of the hotel. Some people were visibly shaken, while others were already on their phones, calling authorities or contacts, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
"Has anyone seen Clark?" Martha asked, scanning the crowd, worry creeping back into her voice. "He must have come out with the others… wait, I'll call him."
She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone.
"Mom, wait," Bruce said quietly, stopping her. He had a feeling Clark wasn't exactly available right now.
"Clark!"
Selina's voice cut through the noise as she suddenly broke away, running toward a familiar figure emerging from behind the crowd. She wrapped her arms around him without hesitation.
"I'm glad you're okay," she muttered, visibly shaken.
Martha followed right behind her, pulling Clark into a tight embrace.
"I was worried," she said softly.
"I'm fine," Clark replied, letting out a small breath. "I'm just glad all of you are safe."
He glanced at Bruce.
Bruce gave a small nod in return, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.
"Alfred's gone to bring the car around," Martha said, regaining some composure. "As soon as he's here, we're leaving. Honestly, maybe we should go straight back to Gotham—"
"We should go to the hotel first," Clark said, meeting her eyes.
Martha studied him for a second—
then nodded.
"…Alright."
"Selina, can you call Ma?" Clark added, glancing at her as she clung to his arm. "If she sees the news without hearing from us first, she'll worry."
"Can't you do that yourself?" Selina muttered, though she was already pulling out her phone, still holding onto him.
"I just need to check on someone," Clark said, gently easing himself out of her grip. "I'll be right back."
"Clark—" Martha called after him.
"I'm nearby," he assured her before slipping into the crowd.
—
I focused, letting my X-ray vision cut through the mass of people until I found who I was looking for.
A group of military personnel stood clustered together, tension thick around them as they spoke urgently into their phones.
Beyond them—
"Lois!" I called, moving toward her.
"Clark!" Lois turned immediately, then glanced back at the woman beside her. "Mom—he's a friend."
"Oh?" Lucy, her little sister, piped up with a giggle. "You mean your boyfriend?"
Lois shot her a sharp look. "Don't start."
Her mother briefly covered the receiver of her phone, giving Lois a firm glance. "Stay where I can see you."
"I will," Lois replied quickly before walking over.
The moment she reached me, I pulled her into a hug.
"I heard what happened," I said quietly. "Are you alright?"
She stiffened slightly—more from being hugged in front of everyone than anything else—then relaxed.
"I'm fine," she said, her cheeks faintly reddening as she stepped back, clearly aware of her mom and sister watching.
"So what exactly happened?" I asked, still holding her lightly by the arms. "Bruce said you fell out of the window… and someone caught you?"
Lying and feigning ignorance came too easily to me now.
"Not here," Lois said, glancing around at the crowd. "Come with me."
She led me a little away from the others—not far, but just enough to have some privacy while still within her mother's line of sight.
"Why are we being so secretive?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Because of this," she said, pulling out her camera.
She switched it on and brought up the footage, quickly playing both recordings. Lois spoke fast—almost tripping over her own words—as she pointed things out, explaining what she had seen and trying to convince me she wasn't imagining any of it.
"You—you could've died, Lois," I said, pulling her into another hug, tighter this time. "And… obviously I believe you."
"Th-thanks… it was pretty scary," she admitted, her voice wavering for a second before she forced a small grin. "But hey—at least now I know I don't like bungee jumping."
I let out a quiet breath.
"I'm just glad you're okay," I said, looking into her eyes. "I would've… really hated it if something happened to you."
"Yeah…" she muttered, her expression softening. "If it wasn't for that guy, sigh… I didn't even get to ask his name."
"Yes, I'd like to thank him too," I said. "Who do you think he was?"
"I don't know…" she frowned slightly, rubbing her forehead. "Everything happened so fast. I saw his face, but… I can't remember it properly. Just the blue suit… and that big red 'S' on his chest."
"Don't push yourself," I said, gently stopping her hand. "You've been through a lot. You should probably go home and rest."
"No way," Lois said immediately, clutching the camera to her chest, her energy snapping right back. "Do you even realize what this means?"
I raised a brow.
"This," she said, lifting the camera, "is my first real story."
"You mean you're going to write about this for your blog?" I asked.
"Yes—but not just the blog," she said quickly, eyes lighting up. "I could send it to a real newspaper. Like the Daily Planet. If they publish it—with my name—and I have proof—"
Her voice rose with excitement.
"I could become famous overnight!"
She paused, cheeks turning red as the thought hit her.
"I-I might even become the youngest person to win a Pulitzer Prize," she added, almost whispering. "And then… Mom would have to take me seriously. She couldn't force me into the army if I'm already a reporter."
"That's actually a great idea, Lois," I said with a small smile. "If you want, I could help."
"How?" she asked immediately, curiosity lighting up her face.
"Do you know who owns the Daily Planet?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"The Waynes, of course!" she said quickly, grabbing my arms. "Wait—does that mean you can ask your godmother to talk to them for me?"
"I can try," I said, amused. "At the very least, I can make sure your article doesn't get ignored."
"Ah—thank you, thank you!" she said, practically bouncing as she threw her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek in excitement.
I blinked, then let out a small laugh, shaking my head at her enthusiasm.
After a moment, she pulled back, suddenly more self-conscious. We exchanged contact details—she didn't have a personal phone like I did, but she gave me her home number and email.
"Just focus on getting home, resting, and writing your article," I told her. "Leave the rest to me."
She nodded, clutching her camera like it was the most important thing in the world.
Before leaving, I gave a quick greeting to her family. Eleanor was still busy on a call, her expression tense, while Lucy was standing nearby, making exaggerated kissing noises and grinning at Lois.
"Looks like they really didn't recognize me," I muttered under my breath as I walked away.
"I told you not to worry, Kal," Lara's voice replied calmly in my ear. "The suit's adaptive camouflage, combined with cognitive dissonance, prevents accurate identification—even from those who interact with you directly."
I gave a small nod, though it still felt… quite surreal to me.
Alfred had already brought the car around, and the others were waiting for me. I slipped inside, and we quickly left the hotel behind.
The drive was quiet.
Alfred focused on the road, hands steady on the wheel. Martha and Bruce sat behind him, both unusually silent, while Selina stayed pressed close to me in the back.
She hadn't let go of my arm.
"Clark…" she said softly, looking up at me.
"I'll explain everything once we reach the hotel," I replied, loud enough for everyone to hear.
She nodded, accepting that without protest. Across from us, I could feel the tension in Martha and Bruce ease just slightly.
I leaned back and closed my eyes, replaying everything that had just happened.
The second plane had been far more difficult to handle.
The man in the cockpit had refused to let go of the controls until the very end. Even after I forced the landing, one engine was still running, pushing the aircraft forward, while the other burned furiously.
I had no choice but to act quickly. I entered the plane, pulled him away from the controls, dealt with the other hijackers, and forced the aircraft to a complete stop before it could cause any further damage.
By then, the airport had already descended into chaos.
A crowd had gathered around the first plane I had landed, and more people were rushing toward the second.
I still hadn't fully mastered my freeze breath, so putting out the fire directly wasn't an option. Instead, I tore the burning section of the wing free and dragged it away from the aircraft, making sure the flames wouldn't spread.
After that, I stepped inside and told the passengers they were safe.
I instructed them to help the injured out first, then left before anyone could stop me. The last thing I needed was a crowd asking questions—especially with everything still unfolding back at the hotel.
But as I flew away, I couldn't help glancing back.
The pilot.
The co-pilot.
Their bodies lay still in the cockpit.
I memorized their faces. Their names—printed on their tags.
I didn't know why.
It just felt wrong…
to forget them.
—
Even with my eyes closed, my vision stretched outward, taking in the city. Traffic had already begun to choke the roads—especially near the Twin Towers, where police and emergency responders were just arriving.
If we had stayed at the hotel any longer, we would have definitely been held back for questioning.
From what I could hear, confusion still dominated the streets. Eyewitnesses were trying to explain what they had seen—planes flying too low, almost hitting the buildings—but without clear proof, it all sounded too absurd for most people to believe.
Alfred drove us out quickly.
Within minutes, we reached the Wayne residence in Metropolis—a manor tucked away in a quiet, gated part of the city, far removed from the chaos unfolding elsewhere.
Inside, Martha dismissed the staff for the day, telling them to take leave, before asking Alfred to prepare some tea. Then she turned on the television.
Every major channel had already picked up the story.
Live reporters stood outside the Twin Towers, the hotel, and the airport, each trying to piece together what had happened. No one had a complete picture yet, and the anchors kept repeating the same message—
remain calm.
Then the broadcast shifted.
The President appeared on screen, addressing the nation from what looked like a school, children standing behind him.
He spoke of a terrorist attack.
Of planes hijacked.
Of a tragedy that had been prevented.
The attackers were in custody. The situation was under control.
But as a precaution, the country was now under emergency measures. People were advised to stay indoors—and not to panic.
When the address ended, the news resumed—this time showing grainy footage.
Clips of the planes.
Flying too close.
Too fast.
Almost hitting the towers.
As the footage was replayed and enhanced, more details began to emerge. Survivors from the airport and nearby buildings reported the same thing—
someone had stopped the plane.
The news channels immediately seized on it, arguing over what—or who—it could have been, while reporters scrambled to gather firsthand accounts.
"Clark… is that you under that plane?" Martha asked suddenly, her voice trembling as she gripped my arm, eyes fixed on the screen.
Even I felt a slight chill watching the footage.
Seeing it from the outside…
was different.
"Did you… already know this was going to happen?" Selina asked quietly, her expression unreadable.
She knew I had been prepared before—back when the Waynes were attacked. She had never pushed me about it then, but now… the questions were catching up.
"Is that why you came to Metropolis?" Bruce added, his gaze steady. "And why you visited the Twin Towers earlier this week?"
"Your tea, Madam."
Alfred's calm voice cut through the tension as he entered with a trolley.
"And milkshakes for the young masters," he added, as composed as ever.
It was almost unsettling how unshaken he seemed by all of this.
"Thank you, Alfred," Martha said, forcing a small smile as she gestured for us to sit.
We did.
I took the glass in my hand, but I could still feel their eyes on me.
Waiting.
So I exhaled slowly—and began.
"I had some information," I said carefully. "About a possible terrorist attack. Not exact details… just the timing and the method."
"And how exactly did you get that information?" Bruce asked, his tone calm but intent.
"It's… related to my Kryptonian side," I replied, keeping it vague.
Selina hesitated. "You mean… like your suit? I mean—your real mom?"
She still wasn't fully used to the idea of Lara. Even Martha had trouble wrapping her head around a sentient AI tied to Clark's heritage.
"Something like that," I said with a small smile. "It's advanced tech. Way beyond anything here."
I shrugged lightly.
"Maybe I'll show you someday. Though… it's not exactly nearby."
Bruce gave a small nod, filing that away without pressing further.
"You could have told me," Martha said, her voice tight with concern. "I would have contacted the authorities—the FBI, someone."
"They might not have believed us," Selina said immediately, crossing her arms.
"And if they did," Bruce added, "they would've asked how we knew. That kind of information doesn't come without consequences."
I nodded.
"That's exactly why I didn't say anything. And… I wasn't even sure it would happen."
Martha's expression didn't ease.
"Even so, Clark… you didn't have to take all that risk on your own. It's not your responsibility." Her voice softened, but the worry didn't leave her eyes. "Why would you put yourself in danger like that?"
I paused for a moment.
Then answered honestly.
"Because I can help," I said quietly. "And… I want to."
My hand tightened slightly in my lap.
"Just like I helped your family… there are others out there who need it too."
I lifted my gaze.
"I don't want to have these powers… and do nothing with them."
A brief silence followed.
"And if I don't… then who will?"
The room fell quiet.
Martha let out a slow breath before moving closer, pulling me gently into her arms.
"You… really are a good child," she murmured, running a hand through my hair. "But even saviours need support. Don't try to carry everything alone."
"I won't," I said softly, nodding against her shoulder.
Selina smiled faintly, her eyes a little misty.
Bruce, on the other hand, remained silent—his expression far more complicated.
For a brief moment, the tension eased..
But then—
"Kal."
Lara's voice cut through my thoughts.
Urgent.
"There are two more planes. One of them is heading straight towards the Pentagon… in Washington, D.C."
My eyes snapped open.
So this wasn't over yet.