"Hey? Lois? Did you see the email I sent you? What do you think of this topic?"
Clark sat at the hotel room's desk, pushed his glasses up, switched the phone to his other ear, and continued typing on the computer.
"You think it's good too? That's great! Yes, I think so too. It would be great if it could help someone at the same time."
"Really? You say, I'm listening... Now that you mention it, it does seem like that. Just asking questions isn't deep enough, I have to experience it myself. But, my appearance..."
Clark showed a troubled expression and said, "I'm not boasting or anything, but saying I'm an illegal immigrant is a bit far-fetched. Besides, I don't speak Spanish."
"Find undercover agents? That's actually a good idea. You know what, I did leave my business card with two illegal immigrants... No way?" Clark frowned, switched the phone to the other side, and said, "They aren't going to cling to me just because they went undercover, right?"
"Alright, you have a point, I really can't contact them directly. If they try to extort me or smear me, that'll be trouble..."
"What?! So dangerous? Three have already gone missing? My gosh. Alright, you have a point. I should think it over carefully."
After hanging up the phone, Clark sighed deeply, realizing this wasn't as simple as he thought. He had just shared his draft with Lois, who affirmed his choice of topic but also pointed out that his investigation wasn't deep enough.
Clark thought so too. Investigative journalism requires personal investigation. Simply asking a few questions could be done by an interview journalist.
But with his image, it was impossible to be hired for illegal labor. As mentioned before, his Man of Steel allowed him to farm for over a decade at Kent's Farm without leaving any marks; he looked fresh even after all the farming. Anyone could see that he was on a covert mission, and no employer would hire him.
So, the best way was to find undercover agents: hire two people working as illegal laborers, give them some money, and have them record real events.
However, Lois particularly emphasized that he should not reveal himself due to the potential danger.
Forget about these people extorting like lions, many investigative journalists go missing every year while undercover. Every area has its kingpins, and illegal labor groups surely do, too. If someone were to target him, it would be troublesome.
Clark wasn't worried about physical attacks, but it was frustrating that if these people wanted to mess with him, they could easily smear his reports, fabricate evidence, or spread false rumors in the media.
Therefore, Clark thought it best not to get involved directly. But finding a middleman was also troublesome. It's ridiculous: there's professional middlemen to sign contracts for finding sugar daddies, but none for undercover missions.
Clark pondered yet couldn't think of anyone to ask. Figures such as Diana are outsiders and can't handle these kingpins. Colonel Jones might be capable, but it's not fair to bother him for such trivial matters.
Unable to figure it out for now, Clark decided to let it go. It happened to be sunset, so he put on his track jacket and headed out for a run.
As he ran, he arrived at the beach. The sunset was even more beautiful here, and Clark stopped to admire it. Even though he had disguised his appearance with glasses and other items, within 10 minutes, about 100 people approached him for conversation. Feeling overwhelmed, he went to a nearby bar, ordered a drink, and sat down.
Clark sipped his drink and sighed again. The drink lacked the warm sensation he used to experience. Apparently, he only got drunk because of the green gemstone powder.
Having no ideas, and finding the drink increasingly tasteless, Clark felt utterly bored and intended to return. Just then, a figure sat next to him and placed a small bag of powder beside his hand.
"Want some of this?"
"No thanks," Clark refused disdainfully. He strongly despised drugs. Consuming human drugs by the pound wouldn't affect him.
Just as he was about to leave, Clark caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye — the small bag of powder was green.
Looking up, he saw Shiller smiling at him.
Clark jumped in place, almost getting stuck on the ceiling. When he landed, he said irritably, "What are you doing here?!!"
"I own the bar," Shiller replied.
"You mean you put gemstone powder in my drink that day?!"
Shiller nodded.
"When... when did you do it?"
Shiller patted Clark's shoulder, then pointed in a direction. Clark looked but saw nothing.
"This whole street is mine."
Clark widened his eyes.
"I told you before, I'm just doing some small business." Shiller shrugged.
Clark was speechless. He sighed, deciding to stay seated, mainly for fear that if he didn't stay, Shiller would track him to his house and then tell him, the hotel was his too. Life truly would be unbearable then.
"Though, I didn't have assets in America before." Shiller smiled, "I owe my successful development to you."
"What do you mean?"
"I bought stocks when Luther Group's shares plummeted."
Clark clenched his fist tightly. Thankfully, he'd made great progress in controlling his emotions. Restraining himself, he forced a smile and said, "It's not thanks to me, it's thanks to you."
"If you had bought the shares too, you could say that. Sadly, you didn't. Actually, I'm quite curious, why didn't you buy any?"
"I... I..."
Clark suddenly remembered that he had seen the news about the Luther Group's stock plummeting. Why hadn't he bought it?!
"Alright, it's all in the past." Shiller said, "Want some of this?"
"Where did you get so many gemstones???"
"These aren't gemstones." Shiller shook his head and said, "This thing is called Kryptonite, specifically against Kryptonians."
"What?!"
"You need to ask Batman for the details, I can't explain it to you. Alright, let's talk about business, I heard you're in some trouble."
Clark had a lot to ask, but considering the problem he was facing, he decided to address the current issue first. He took a sip of his drink and said, "To be honest, I want to investigate illegal immigration. But the situation is complex here, and I don't know what to do."
"That's easy, how do you want to investigate?"
"Well... I want to find two undercover agents. Actually, I've already got people lined up, but I think it's better not to handle it myself. I want to find a middleman."
"I can help you," Shiller said, "but you have to promise to cooperate with experts for desensitization training."
"Why do you insist on..."
"I told you, this thing restrains you."
"So it can't help me increase strength?"
"Yes, as long as you're not restrained by it, isn't that an increase in strength?"
Clark was almost dizzy from his words. He wanted to ask further, but then heard Shiller say, "Most Supermen are restrained by it."
Clark opened his mouth wide, looking at Shiller in surprise. Shiller nodded and said, "I told you, this thing specializes in restraining Kryptonians, aren't you all Kryptonians?"
"To be frank, the Multiverse may face a dark crisis. This is not like the small skirmishes before; it's a real confrontation. Superheroes will gather for this. The opponent may be very cunning, using everything to defeat you, including this thing."
Shiller took out another piece of Kryptonite. Clark hesitated for a long time and then asked, "So, you want me to..."
"A Superman must stand out in critical moments. I think you can," Shiller looked at him and said, "because you're the Batman among Supermen."
"What?"
"Perhaps you've noticed that your counterparts are not quite like you. They trust and rely on Batman very much. But you can't leave everything to Batman to solve, right?"
Clark nodded frequently. Actually, he has already admitted that Bruce is indeed very charming, but he still doesn't agree with the other Supermen's attitude: ask Batman for anything, go to Batman for anything, listen to what wonderful Batman has to say.
Pushing all responsibilities onto one person is irresponsible. Furthermore, no matter how smart or charismatic Bruce is, he can't solve all problems. Superman has to be self-reliant.
Thinking this way, he felt Shiller made sense. If he, such an independent Superman, is a minority in the Multiverse, what if something happens later, someone brings that green gemstone to persecute Supermen, and everyone cries and screams for Batman, is that sensible?
The more he thought, the more ridiculous it seemed, Clark said, "They're a bit unreasonable, I definitely need to talk to them. You can't rely on Batman for everything, we're no less than them."
"That's the spirit." Shiller praised. He brought over the drink mixed by the bartender, added that kind of powder, and handed it to Clark. Clark glanced at it, somewhat disdainful, but still took it and sipped.
It was that familiar warm feeling again. But this time, there wasn't as much dizziness. He drank two more sips. Clark took a deep breath and then said, "I think you're right. I... I really need to practice this. If something happens later, I can save them..."
"You just cooperate with the training with peace of mind. Leave the matter of finding a middleman to me. After all, I'm in business, I've got connections everywhere. Leave it to me and you're assured."
"Okay... okay..."
When Clark woke up again, he found himself in a hotel. He looked at the clock, it was already noon the next day. He couldn't remember how much he drank yesterday.
His head still hurts a bit now, but it's definitely much better than the first day. He felt a bit dizzy when he stood up, but he could move freely. Clark felt he was close to desensitization.
He wobbled to the computer and found an email from Shiller, inviting him to meet at a café at two in the afternoon. Clark hummed inwardly: it's good Shiller is efficient, thought he was just going to scam him.
As a result, when he arrived at the café they arranged, he found Shiller sitting there again. Clark also sat down, the two of them stared at each other. Clark looked at him and said, "Where's the intermediary?"
"Isn't he already sitting here?" Shiller sipped his coffee.
"You're not going to say it's you?"
"What's the problem?" Shiller spread his hands and said, "I'm a businessman. I know how to deal with those tricky opponents. It's most suitable for me to be the middleman, isn't it?"
"Let's not talk about anything else, how do you charge?" Clark was very cautious.
"Don't worry, I'm not the kind who greedily asks for money." Shiller smiled at him.
"Yeah, you just nearly took all of our lives."