Night fell unexpectedly.
Clark roared down the street in a black Pagani.
The engine's unrestrained roar drew the attention of pedestrians on the street.
Clark enjoyed this feeling of unrestrained indulgence.
Any young person would likely enjoy such a feeling.
Driving a sports car that perfectly combined speed and passion, attracting everyone's attention on the road, and basking in their admiring and envious gazes.
"This is the extravagant life of neon lights and champagne; I like this kind of life," Clark murmured, watching the street view flash by outside.
Twenty minutes later, the car stopped at the Carol Hotel in Metropolis's uptown district.
The Carol Hotel, one of Metropolis's most expensive hotels, was brilliantly lit with its magnificent architecture.
Before even stepping through the main entrance, Clark saw the towering archways, ornate fountains, and gas-lamp-lined walkways.
The Carol Hotel was hosting an auction.
The auction primarily featured art pieces, such as works by Picasso and Mark Rothko.
Mark Rothko's "Untitled"—a bafflingly strange work consisting of only a few different colors: deep red and maroon rectangles against a dull blue-purple background—had a final transaction price of 41.5 million dollars at the last art fair.
Clark could only attribute such perplexing behavior to mental illness.
Luxury cars filled the hotel entrance, and guests, like a rain of people, gathered, conversing and laughing heartily from time to time when discussing pleasant topics.
All the invited guests were high-ranking officials and dignitaries from Metropolis, each impeccably dressed and elegantly poised.
Clark felt a bit out of place in this environment.
Although he didn't have an invitation, he used his super speed to easily acquire one with a little trickery, then handed it to the security guard checking admissions.
After entering the lobby, a waiter led Clark to the bustling banquet hall.
He didn't know anyone here and was only there to make money, so he had no intention of speaking to anyone.
He stood to the side, sipping the champagne offered by a waiter, and observing the dignitaries in the hall.
His gaze suddenly caught a familiar figure!
Lionel, Lex's father, stood nearby in a suit, conversing with acquaintances.
Upon seeing Lionel, Clark immediately turned away, not wanting to be discovered.
He had met Lionel before and worried that he might be recognized.
Lionel was speaking with a friend when he saw a woman he truly did not wish to see walking into the lobby entrance.
After excusing himself to his friend, Lionel walked up to Dr. Helen.
"Hmm, our high-society lady is here to make a spectacle again! This must be your first public appearance, right?"
Helen, dressed in an evening gown with light makeup, looking like a noblewoman, offered Lionel a polite smile.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you do. We're family, so don't play games with me. I know Lex's death has something to do with you, and your constant talk of your tragic love story only makes me laugh."
"I didn't murder Lex."
"Really?"
Lionel took a step closer to her, "Let me hear your version of that tragedy again. You woke up, were hijacked, the pilot jumped out, leaving only one parachute, and then Lex selflessly gave it to you, crashing with the plane himself. What a fantastic plot, even novels couldn't concoct such a story!"
Facing Lionel's aggressive questioning, Dr. Helen replied with a smile, "If you feel it's full of doubts and misunderstandings, you can call the police."
"No need for the police. I will find my son and expose you!"
Lionel warned her with a grim expression, then turned and walked away.
After taking two steps, he stopped, turned back, and said, "You know what, Helen? Although a Black Widow is skilled at hunting and is a very formidable hunter, every predator can also be someone else's prey."
Helen still smiled as she watched Lionel warn her, seemingly unfazed by his words.
Lionel walked past Clark without noticing him.
Clark, holding a champagne glass and having overheard their entire conversation, his expression grew a bit solemn.
After having a few glasses of champagne and passing some time in the hall, the auction finally officially began.
Clark found a random seat and watched the host on stage introduce the history and value of the auctioned items, feeling a bit bored.
His interest only piqued slightly when he saw the dignitaries below begin to raise their paddles and call out bids.
Getting up and walking to an empty corner, Clark put on his mask, then instantly moved to the auction stage.
Everyone was busy watching the excitement and bidding on art when they suddenly saw a masked figure, with only his mouth and nose visible, appear on the auction stage.
"Now, I declare… all the artworks here are mine!"
Clark, standing on the stage, made a statement that shocked everyone.
Seeing a troublemaker, the security personnel responsible for on-site security immediately rushed forward with stun batons.
Facing the security guards rushing towards him with stun batons, Clark simply waved his hand forward, and their stun batons instantly landed in his hand.
"Uh-ah!"
The foremost security guard screamed as Clark electrocuted him with the stun baton.
Before the man could collapse from the shock, Clark grabbed his collar, lifted him, and hurled him towards the rushing crowd.
Like bowling pins struck, all the security guards fell to the ground.
After instantly dealing with all the security, Clark clapped his hands and asked the stunned crowd below:
"Does anyone still have questions about what I just said?"
No one dared to resist; everyone obediently cooperated, not daring to move.
After intimidating those present, Clark said to the auction host, "Now, bring out all the valuable paintings, or else, if I have to do it myself, I'll show you what happens when you anger me."
"Gulp!"
The host swallowed, nodding repeatedly, and backed away from Clark.
Just as he ran off the stage, a gunshot broke the silence of the auction.
Clark caught the incoming bullet with one hand, his expression turning somewhat grim.
Activating his super speed, he instantly moved near the backstage area, glaring at the security guard who had shot at him.
Clark grabbed the guard by the collar, lifted him, and slammed him hard into a trash can.
The metal trash can was deformed by the impact, and the security guard instantly passed out.
Other armed security immediately opened fire on Clark.
The bullets merely pinged off his body, causing no harm except for a few more holes in his clothes.
Whoosh!
The air vibrated, and accompanied by a blur imperceptible to the naked eye, Clark kicked the closest shooter flying.
The dignitaries attending the banquet at the front desk screamed upon hearing the gunshots, fleeing in terror from the hall.
Screams, cries, and curses intertwined within the crowd, turning the quiet hall into a chaotic escape scene, with some people even falling to the ground due to jostling and pushing.
The once crowded and splendid hall became an empty, deserted space in less than a minute.
Lionel glanced backstage, his gaze solemn.
He felt as if he knew the person inside.
Although he didn't recognize Clark's identity, he felt a sense of déjà vu about the masked man.
Though he wanted to stay, he was swept away by the flow of people and had no choice but to leave the hall.
Backstage.
After Clark dealt with all the guards, he walked to the front, only to find that all the wealthy bidders had already left.
Although everyone had fled, he didn't mind.
After all, his initial goal wasn't them, but the valuable paintings. If they ran, they ran.
Shaking his head, Clark walked back and grabbed the auction host, who was sprawled to the side.
"Tell me, where are the valuable paintings hidden?"
"In… in the safe in the back. I… I don't know the code, sir, please let me go!"
The host's eyes showed a thick, unyielding fear. He rushed forward, hugging Clark's leg and begging for mercy, but Clark threw him off.
"Just take me to the safe!"
Clark's muffled voice came from behind the mask.
After opening the safe and packing all the valuable paintings, Clark, carrying the large, heavy bag, had just walked out from backstage when he saw several familiar figures standing at the front: Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, and Supergirl, who had come to trouble him before, as well as Batman, whose ear he had broken a few days prior.
"What a grand lineup! Kara, Green Lantern, and Wonder Woman, plus Batman, whose ear I just broke the day before yesterday! So… are you planning to team up against me?"
Clark set down the bundle he was carrying on his back and asked, annoyed.
"Actually, if we consider you a criminal, then this is just a normal operation for us against robbery criminals."
Green Lantern floated in the air using the power of his ring and said to Clark, "Although a criminal like you isn't ordinary and requires all of us to be deployed. You should know that for regular criminals, we only need one superhero to show up."
"You are superheroes?"
Clark asked, frowning.
"Yes, but you can also call me a Cosmic Police! The Cosmic Police, specializing in dealing with superpowered robbers like you!"
Hal rushed forward, holding his Green Lantern.
He used the power of his ring to materialize a giant gauntlet and struck at Clark!
But the fastest to rush in was also the fastest to retreat.
Hal's body slammed heavily against the wall.
The wall cracked like a spiderweb from the impact.
Hal slowly slid down, accompanied by the dust generated by the impact.
.
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