Chapter 120: The Farm of Justice (Part 1)_2

Bruce put his hand to his forehead, saying, "I am not frail and sick."

"Yes, you are," Clark declared confidently. "you have broken three ribs, your lungs and shoulders are injured, and you have knife wounds on your stomach and neck. If that's not frail and sick, who is? Surely it's not me?"

Bruce was left speechless, but a scream came from the kitchen doorway. Clark turned his head and asked, "What's wrong? Mom?"

Clark's mother Martha quickly walked over, softly touched her earlobe and said, "I must have misheard. What kind of injuries did you say he has? He was stabbed?"

"More than once," Clark said, hands on his hips, and pointing at Bruce, "he was stabbed at least four or five times within a week, and one wound was on an artery."

Jonathan, standing nearby, rushed over. The three of them plus the cat, lined up behind the couch, staring at Bruce as if he were an alien.

Martha quickly tied back her apron that she had untied, and in a rush, returned to the kitchen. "Oh God, I thought one appetizer, two main courses, soup, and dessert would suffice. But that is for regular people. Sick ones need extra nutrients. Let me see, I'll make some fish and meat stuffing, and then prepare a roast chicken…"

"Clark, why didn't you say something sooner? I thought Bruce was just here to visit. You should have told me about his heavy injuries earlier. That way, I could have prepared a nutritious and abundant meal, rather than today's home-style dishes."

"...Oh my! Where is the fish from the fridge?" Martha screamed, then the next second, she yelled, "Little Bruce! Little Bruce!...Bruce…I'm not calling you, I'm calling our cat, Little Bruce! Did you eat the fish again?!"

Clark pried open Bat Cat's mouth and checked, "I'm afraid so, Mom. And it seems the crime happened last night."

Martha's arms dropped, and she sighed with sadness, "It's always like this, whenever I want to prepare something, I always seem to be missing one thing or the other..."

"Stop complaining, Martha, we still have a son. Clark, drive and compensate for your beloved mother's regret." Jonathan waved, "And put down the cat, I hope the fish is still alive before it goes in the pot."

As Clark took the car keys from Jonathan, holding Bat Cat, he said, "I'll keep an eye on it. Let me take it along."

Bruce stood up from the couch and said, "I'll come too."

"Oh Lord!"

"Oh God!"

"Jesus Christ!"

Three shocked exclamations rang out, leaving Bruce standing in place, unsure of what he had said wrong.

Jonathan held Bruce's shoulder, pushing him back down on the couch, and then said, "Stop talking nonsense, kid. You're covered in wounds and now you're telling me you want to ride in a car to a place four miles away to shop? That's too dangerous!"

"Four miles? Why so far?" Bruce asked.

"Because that's where the only place selling fish is," Clark shrugged and said. "We are in the suburbs, on a farm. Four miles is already quite close. If we lived where the dairy cows are, we'd have to drive ten miles."

"I just wanted to get some fresh air." Bruce seemed very uncomfortable in this environment, as if he wanted to run away."

Clark scratched his head and said, "Well, that makes sense. Dr. Veer did say that patients should get more sunlight and fresh air. The road is pretty smooth, so let's go together"

Relieved, Bruce was already outside the door before Clark could react. Clark looked at him, puzzled, and said, "Why are you in such a hurry? I still have to get the shopping bags and hats."

"You go ahead." Bruce stood outside the door, showing no intention of going inside.

"He's shy," Bat Cat said in Clark's arms.

"I am not," denied Bruce.

"Yes, you are. After all, I'm Batman too."

Clark held Bat Cat's mouth shut, gave a fake smile at Bruce, and quickly rushed inside the house to get the hats.

After a while, he came out with two straw sun hats. Bruce put one on his head, found it obstructing his view, and handed it back to Clark, saying, "Never mind, you wear it."

Clark narrowed his eyes slightly and said, "Are you sure?"

Bruce nodded nonchalantly. Thinking for a while, Clark didn't force him, but instead put the oversized hat on Bat Cat, covering the entire cat.

The three of them went to the garage together. Bruce could only stare in amazement at the old pickup truck in the garage, which was so aged he couldn't even identify its model or year of production with his knowledge of modern machinery.

Bruce pursed his lips, swallowed, and looked at Clark. "You're planning to drive this thing to buy groceries?"

"Yep." Clark opened the car door and climbed into the driver's seat.

Bruce hesitated. He had no idea how much force he should use to open the car door without causing it to fall off this old pickup, which might be older even than Alfred.

Unexpectedly, Clark had already turned sideways, reached out his arm, and pushed open the door on the other side. He gave the hesitating Bruce a warm smile and said, "I know you can't lift your arm, come on, I'll pull you up."

Looking at Clark's outstretched arm, Bruce hesitated, then slowly climbed into the passenger seat by grabbing the edge of the car door. Just as he got into the car, he heard Bat Cat in the back seat make a snickering sound that was a mixture of a cat's meow and a human's laugh.

Bruce was about to turn his head for a look, but at that moment, Clark turned the keys twice and sighed. He gestured to Bruce saying, "It won't start, get off the car."

Bruce looked a bit dazed staring at Clark. Clark shrugged and said, "You can't expect my grandfather's pickup to function well every single day. We're just not lucky today, the old guy might be a bit tired."

With that, Clark got out of the car. Bruce was about to slowly get out, but Clark simply held onto his waist and brought him to the ground as smoothly as if he were carrying a bag of straw.

Before Bruce could react to the sudden change of location, Clark had strides away toward the other garage.

When Bruce followed, Clark rubbed his hands and said, "Luckily, we have a backup option, otherwise, there'd be no fish for dinner tonight."

"Backup opt…"

Before Bruce could finish his sentence, the big garage door slowly opened.

And there, parked in the garage, was a tall, mighty, colorful farming vehicle with an ultra-modern aesthetic … a tractor.