Beneath the Surface

"Was this photo taken by Mom?" Soren immediately raised his voice and asked Charlie.

"Yes," Charlie replied smoothly, "and this one too..."

Soren quickly typed to Tony: "Is everyone alright? Has no one from the Justice League tried to stop Clark? What about Bruce? Hasn't Bruce stepped in?"

"We've lost a lot of people."

Tony frowned as he typed the words.

Just then, Soren heard a knock at the door.

Clark had silently approached the doorway.

He knocked on the door with his knuckles, his expression calm, "Soren."

Soren decisively turned off the tablet's screen.

He put the tablet down, trying to steady his heartbeat, keeping his face neutral, "What's up, Clark?"

"I need to head to the Justice League to handle some things—you're coming with me. I don't feel comfortable leaving you here alone."

Soren frowned and protested, "But I'm at my own home… Can't I spend some time with Mom and Dad?" He gripped Charlie and Renee's hands, "I want to have dinner with them."

"I'm not comfortable with that, Soren," Clark said, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him, his eyes briefly flicking over the tablet, "I'm worried about you."

As he got closer, Charlie's breathing became more tense.

Soren squeezed Charlie's hand and gave him a quick glance before turning to Clark, saying, "…But this is my home. What danger could there possibly be?"

Clark gave a bitter smile.

Danger… there was plenty.

He knew the connection between Charlie Hargreaves and Tony Stark.

As long as Soren stayed here, there was always a chance he could contact Tony Stark.

And that was something Clark was not keen on allowing.

He stood before Soren and extended his broad, defined hand, "Let's go."

—He wasn't asking.

He was informing him.

Soren looked up at Clark, locking eyes with him in a tense standoff for a few moments before finally letting go of Charlie and Renee's hands.

He stood up, but Charlie immediately grabbed his wrist.

"Clark Kent," Charlie's tone carried the fury of a father.

Despite his obvious tension, he stood up, spreading his arms wide to shield Soren behind him, "I want to know, where exactly are you taking my child? Our son doesn't need to stay by your side, and he certainly doesn't need your protection."

"If he doesn't want to go with you, then he should stay here."

Charlie stared Clark down, unyielding, like an old lion protecting his cub.

Clark remained silent.

He glanced past Charlie's arms and looked directly at Soren.

"Do you want to come with me, Soren?" he asked, his voice lowered.

Soren's eyes reddened as he looked at Clark.

He exhaled slowly.

"…I'll go with you," Soren said.

He gently lowered Charlie's arm, shaking his head lightly at him, "Dad, it's okay. Clark and I—we grew up together. You know Clark has always been good to me, right?"

Soren forced a smile, putting every ounce of effort into it, but it still came out pale and strained.

"Clark, let's go," he said softly, taking Clark's hand.

For a moment, Clark's expression was filled with overwhelming sadness, but that fragility quickly disappeared, either pushed away or buried deep within him.

He glanced briefly at Charlie and Renee Hargreaves, nodded to them slightly without saying a word, and then led Soren out of the estate.

The new Justice League headquarters, built in its second year, was located in Washington.

Clark landed with Soren on the League's aerial platform.

As they walked through the corridors, they were heavily guarded on all sides.

The soldiers were dressed in full black uniforms, black helmets with red visors, and armbands featuring a circular black, yellow, and red emblem.

Each one carried a weapon.

Soren had seen these soldiers before on the battlefield in front of the Hydra base in Eastern Europe.

He glanced at them from the corner of his eye, but the soldiers remained motionless.

"Are these... new members of the League, Clark?" Soren asked.

Clark didn't respond, striding forward with long, purposeful steps.

Standing nearly six foot three, he had long legs and held Soren close as his white cape billowed behind him, resembling a rolling white ocean.

They entered the Justice League's main hall.

At the far end of the empty hall stood a tall, dark figure with his back to them.

Clark came to a stop.

"B."

His voice echoed in the hall, "Why did you call for me?"

As their footsteps ceased, the dark figure turned around, his steely blue eyes cutting through the vast space of the hall, landing directly on Soren.

Soren instinctively clenched his fists, his eyes filled with disbelief, as if struck by lightning.

Bruce's presence here confirmed an undeniable truth—

Bruce had chosen to side with Clark.

He was helping Clark build this world regime.

He was aiding Clark!

Bruce's gaze quickly shifted away from him.

Yet Clark continued toward Bruce, guiding Soren along, and placed him in the chair at the far end of the hall—the chair that symbolized absolute authority and rule.

Soren's black hair fell in fine, disordered strands over the back of his pale neck.

He lowered his eyelids slightly, his right hand struggling to relax, resting limply on his knee.

But the sweat in his palm made it warm and damp.

The high-backed chair made him appear small and solitary.

Batman stood not far away, watching him with an expressionless face.

Yet Soren couldn't shake the feeling that this tall, dark figure loomed over him like the shadow of a mountain.

The weight of that shadow was almost suffocating.

He clenched the edge of his clothing.

Clark seemed uninterested in explaining Soren's presence to Batman.

Instead, he asked again why Batman had summoned him.

Batman's voice was as cold and restrained as ever, deep and gravelly. "We're investigating the eastern coastline of Africa. It's highly likely that one of the Avengers' bases is hidden there."

"How is the takeover of Wakanda progressing?" Clark inquired.

Batman nodded, "It's going smoothly."

Soren watched them converse in silence.