Late Night

Metropolis, nearing midnight.

At this hour, ordinary souls had counted sheep and slipped into slumber, even in the ever-luminous city of Metropolis. The streets fell into a sleepy hush, the streetlights casting their lonely amber glow, and the traffic lights flickering in solitude, as not a single car passed in the distance.

This quiet was partly due to the street's distance from the main thoroughfares, and it wasn't entirely deserted. Beneath the dim glow, a man in a crumpled jacket sat on a bench, a cigarette dangling from his lips, the light casting a tawny hue over his silhouette and elongating the shadow of both man and bench on the pavement.

As he flicked his umpteenth cigarette butt into the nearby trash can, Mr. Charles Reynolds turned the corner into view. Clad in his brown trench coat with the collar high enough to obscure half his face, he approached quickly and sat back-to-back with the jacketed man.

"You're late today," the man remarked, producing a manila envelope from his jacket. "Everything you asked for is here."

Mr. Reynolds took the envelope, unwound the string, checked the contents briefly, and retied it. He handed over a wad of bills without a word and stood to leave.

"Charles," the man called out, stopping him in his tracks. Reynolds half-turned, a silent prompt hanging in his gaze.

After a brief pause, the man continued, "I know business is business, but now that we're square, let me give you a friendly warning. We've been at this a long time—I provide the leads, you skewer those you can't stomach with your pen."

Mr. Reynolds crossed his arms, waiting.

"It's not that I'm unhappy to do business with you again, as it's been a while. But think it over carefully. What you're digging into is dangerous; the people involved are no ordinary foes. I heard about that plane incident; do you truly believe that was a coincidence?"

Mr. Reynolds remained silent, tucking the envelope close and walking out of the lamplight's reach, heading down the desolate street.

It would take over twenty minutes to walk home at this dead hour, with not even a taxi's shadow in sight. His phone, tucked in his coat pocket, broke the silence—an old tune cutting sharply through the quiet streets.

Mrs. Reynolds was on the line: "Where are you? Why haven't you come home yet?"

"I, uh... got held up with something."

"Jay hasn't come home yet either," Mrs. Reynolds said with worry. "I'm getting anxious."

"Ha, don't worry. He's a big kid, and you know what he's capable of," Mr. Reynolds chuckled. "He's finally found some enthusiasm; let him be."

"I know. I just can't help but worry."

"No need for that. He's bound to fly from the nest we built for him one day, and he's not like the rest. You'll have to get used to it," Mr. Reynolds assured her. "Anyway, I'm on my way back now. I'll be home soon."

He pocketed his phone, but as he looked up, he froze.

Not five paces ahead, a man with chiseled features leaned against a lamppost. Dressed in a black suit, his shiny shoes reflected the light, conjuring the image of a classic spy.

Instinctively sensing danger, Mr. Reynolds stepped back and turned, only to find his retreat blocked by another man in black, mirroring the first. The two formed a pincer, like wolves cornering their prey.

Metropolis, 2 AM.

Though the Reynolds never set a curfew, Jay rarely stayed out this late, mainly for lack of compelling company—until now.

Kara was an impeccable partner, and not just because they might be the last of an endangered species. She carried an interest in everything as if the world was still fresh to her, and like Jay, she possessed boundless energy, courtesy of the generous sun.

They sang in a karaoke booth, discovering a shared musical talent. They flew half the city under the night sky before settling beneath the Daily Planet's golden globe, sharing stories. Jay recounted the trivialities of his life post-adoption—Kara laughed at every mundane detail. Her tales, however, were far more thrilling: her arrival on Earth, meeting Superman, her illustrious cousin, their battles against supervillains, and her interactions with the Justice League. Her life seemed an endless epic of adventures, too vast to be told in mere days.

She recalled once accidentally blowing up Batman's prized Batcomputer with her heat vision. Batman was irate, but Superman graciously offered to cover for her.

"Superman said that?" Jay asked, surprised. "Did he end up buying a new one for Batman?"

"No, he's still in debt," Kara laughed. "Going on seven or eight years now. With Clark's salary, I doubt he'll ever pay it off."

Their laughter echoed into the vast night sky, light and uplifting.

"I was still a little girl when I first arrived on Earth, not even speaking the language. Kal took care of me in every way," she said, her tone turning somber. Jay, sensing her longing for her late cousin, shared the silence.

"Alright," she shook off the mood. "It's getting late, and I should prepare for what Ms. Grant tasked me with, lest she unleashes her fury on me tomorrow. I fear her more than an intercontinental missile on my head."

"Ha, understandable."

"You should head back too. Don't worry your parents," she floated up, bidding goodbye. "It was great talking to you."

"Me too," Jay replied, then remembering something, asked, "You're heading back to Nairomi soon, right?"

"Yes," Kara nodded. "Tomorrow night, the Kord Industries private jet should pick us up."

"So, we'll see each other again?"

Kara chuckled, "I'm free most weekends. Look, Nairomi isn't far from Metropolis."

"Right, not far at all."

Parting with Kara left Jay elated, as if even the moon shone brighter. Well, it was the middle of the night, but that was how jubilant he felt.

Until Mrs. Reynolds' call came through.

Jay answered, "Hello? Sorry, Mom, I did stay out too late. I'm coming back now. Just wait a bit longer. What? Dad's missing?!"