The Underground Mall

Jay was munching on toast for breakfast, the crunching sound mingling with the morning news blaring from the television. His father was still sound asleep, while Mrs. Reynolds busied herself with loading the dryer with freshly washed clothes.

The reporter on the TV was lavishing praise on the Naxino City police, lauding their efficiency in dealing with the bank robbery. They had arrived on the scene swiftly, giving the criminals no chance to escape. Their tactical approach was flawless, apprehending the felons with minimal fuss.

The camera panned to the leader of the police operation, a dashing middle-aged man with blond hair. When he smiled, revealing eight perfectly aligned teeth, it seemed as if the gesture had been practiced a thousand times.

The reporter asked Detective Cortes how he managed to lead his team to such a near-perfect victory.

Cortes, puffing out his chest, arrogantly claimed it was all thanks to his superb command and the well-trained officers. To them, arresting a bunch of amateurs with guns was a piece of cake.

The reporter gave a thumbs-up, echoing his sentiment that taxpayers' money was well-spent. With such a professional police force, the public's safety was assured. Cortes laughed heartily, saying they were just doing their job.

As the two continued their mutual admiration, Curtis Hawkins, the officer who had been trapped in the bank with the hostages, burst into the frame, ignoring attempts to hold him back. He loudly insisted that the police hadn't arrived in time and that it was Supergirl who had saved everyone. He even claimed that she took bullets for him, and the public deserved to know the truth.

Cortes was visibly displeased, waving for someone to pull the officer away. He then assured the reporter not to mind him, claiming the young officer had been suffering from delusions for a long time—a fact well known in the department. The reporter did not pursue this glaring inconsistency, choosing instead to skip over the interruption and continue praising the police force's efficiency.

Supergirl, huh?

Jay pondered thoughtfully. His instincts told him that the version of events blurted out by the eager young officer was probably closer to the truth.

Ever since the Doomsday Invasion ended and the World Federal Government was established, it seemed the media had collectively decided to keep their mouths shut regarding any government criticism, especially when it involved superpowered individuals. Two years prior, an unexplained disaster in Gotham resulted in triple-digit casualties. The media claimed it was due to an unexpected earthquake, while rumors insisted it was a supernatural incident involving magic—truth or fiction was anyone's guess.

But such cover-ups weren't entirely surprising. After such a catastrophic disaster, social stability and development were deemed more important than anything else.

Jay finished his toast and drained his cup of warm milk. He got up to rinse his cup when the television introduced another so-called expert. The portly, bald man was using statistics from various industries to prove humanity's tremendous progress in the post-hero era. Jay thought to himself that perhaps the expert had conveniently overlooked the soaring crime rates.

But this was the status quo and the reason Jay felt no need to use his abilities for anything more. Lex Luthor had spent years convincing the world that superhumans were a burden to human progress, that humanity was better off without them.

And what was so bad about that? Jay was perfectly content with his life—a loving, ordinary family, a new start, and extraordinary abilities that no one knew about. The future looked bright.

"Jay!" Mrs. Reynolds called from the bathroom. "Get your dad up and dressed. We're heading to the underground mall today; you need some new clothes for winter."

"Again?" Jay asked, surprised. "Didn't we just buy some clothes?"

"That was for summer. Your winter clothes are too small now," she replied, adding with a hint of complaint, "It's all because you grow too fast. I just bought you clothes, and now they're already small again, you need to learn to conserve..."

Jay wanted to say that he didn't need winter clothes—that he wouldn't feel the cold even in short sleeves in Antarctica—but he kept it to himself. After all, it was important to maintain normal appearances.

After dragging a highly reluctant Mr. Reynolds out of bed for a quick breakfast, the three of them followed Mrs. Reynolds to the bustling underground mall in the city's commercial district.

The holiday crowds were immense, flooding the mall entrances like a surging tide. Mr. Reynolds grumbled something about not being allowed to sleep in as they were swept along with the flow of people into the underground.

When it came to selecting clothes, Mrs. Reynolds displayed an uncanny professional rigor. She never blindly followed the salespeople's recommendations, always carefully considering color, material, quality, and price before making a decision. While this seemed like an appropriate approach, it usually meant spending an excessive amount of time shopping. Plus, with her penchant for haggling over prices, a shopping trip with her often meant clearing your entire day's schedule.

Although Mrs. Reynolds claimed the trip was for Jay's winter clothing, by day's end, the packages Jay carried contained only one outfit for him, with the majority being selections she made for herself. It wasn't that she planned this, but she had a habit of becoming immobile at the sight of appealing clothes and would snap back to reality only after buying a heap more.

Mr. Reynolds, seizing a moment while she was engrossed in the crowd, whispered to Jay, "Your mom buying so much is unnecessary. At the rate she's going, none of it will fit by next year."

Jay couldn't help but chuckle. His father's courage only extended to hushed complaints behind her back. But Mrs. Reynolds had sharp hearing when it came to certain topics. She whirled around, her voice icy, "What did you just say?"

Mr. Reynolds jolted, "I said... I said you'll look great in those clothes."

"Oh, really?"

Mrs. Reynolds advanced with a dark aura, sensing trouble, Mr. Reynolds abandoned any hope of escape and tried to slip away, but it was too late to evade her grasp. He looked at Jay for help, but Jay could only offer a sympathetic shrug, his arms full of shopping bags.

As Jay watched the comic squabble unfold, a subtle disturbance caught his heightened senses. He turned his head toward a commotion on the far left. The crowd there was acting strangely, moving in a panicked surge toward them, like birds startled into flight.

Suddenly, an ominous premonition crept over him, a sense that their peaceful life was about to be shattered. Instinctively, he took a step back and said, "Dad, Mom? I think... maybe we should leave now."