American comics: Damn it, I’m surrounded by those who worry about their fathers!.

Chapter 986 Patrick's Farm Operation

The cold, hard touch was the first thing to awaken the Pharaoh's consciousness.

He opened his eyes, and what came into view was not the familiar metal dome of his meticulously crafted "Ark" spaceship, but an unfamiliar gray ceiling, with dust and some strange metallic smell filling the air.

A severe headache, as if pierced by steel needles, struck him.

He struggled to sit up and looked around.

A cramped cabin filled with unidentified pipes and flashing malfunction lights.

They didn't die, but they're definitely not in their original universe anymore.

Then the Pharaoh's gaze quickly settled on a corner of the cabin: pantomime and marionettes lay slumped on the ground, still unconscious.

The second-generation Rorschach leaned against the opposite bulkhead, his face, covered by the ink-stained mask, slightly lowered.

"Rorschach, are you alright?"

The Pharaoh called out to him in a hoarse voice.

Rorschach immediately raised his head, the "ink" on his mask seemed to freeze for a moment, and then he nodded to confirm that he was in good condition.

The Pharaoh's gaze returned to the pantomime and Erica.

They are the key, but also the potential trouble.

Without any hesitation, Pharaoh acted swiftly, finding two pairs of high-strength alloy handcuffs in the spaceship's emergency compartment.

With swift and decisive movements, he handcuffed Mimic's wrists behind his back to a thick hydraulic pipe, the cold metal pressed against his skin.

Erica was handcuffed to a metal ring welded to the bulkhead nearby, in a position slightly too high for her to sit comfortably.

Then, the pantomime suddenly awoke the moment the handcuffs were put on, letting out an angry growl from its throat, its body struggling violently, the alloy handcuffs rubbing against the pipes making a piercing noise.

Erica also woke up with a groan, her eyes filled with confusion and fear.

"Quiet."

The Pharaoh stared at the two men expressionlessly. “Your value has been realized for now, but for now, you’d better stay here and avoid trouble.”

He ignored the silent roar of the pantomime and Erica's pleading eyes, "Once we find our target, we might consider how to deal with you."

He turned to Rorschach, “We have to make sure they’re ‘safe’ in this iron coffin before we get back, so this is the only way.”

Then the heavy isolation door of the cabin slammed shut behind the Pharaoh, cutting off their shouts and curses.

Outside the hatch is a connecting passageway leading to the spacecraft's main exit.

Pharaoh and Rorschach pushed open the heavy hatch, and a gust of wind mixed with car exhaust, damp rain, and the decaying smell unique to the city rushed in.

The two stood in a narrow, dirty back alley, with rows of skyscrapers of mixed styles in front of them.

Many of the buildings, adorned with Gothic spires and gargoyles, appeared oppressive and eerie under the gloomy sky.

In the distance, huge neon signs flashed the words "ACE Chemical Plant" and "Criminal Bar".

The faint wail of sirens could be heard in the air.

The Pharaoh looked around at his surroundings with a slightly surprised expression.

Rorschach silently surveyed his surroundings, his sharp gaze beneath the mask sweeping over suspicious movements in the shadows and the bold, frenzied graffiti on the walls—a clown head with a wide, blood-red mouth standing out in particular.

"What the hell is this place?"

Rorschach asked the Pharaoh, puzzled.

"I don't know, but it's a world full of mystery."

The Pharaoh's goal was clear.

That means finding the nearest public information hub—the library.

He needs a coordinate system, he needs to understand the world more.

Afterwards, the two silently blended into the sparse crowd on the street, ignoring the strange looks from passersby.

Rorschach's mask clashed with the Pharaoh's own aura, thus attracting the attention of many passersby.

However, since it's Halloween tonight, no one came up to question them.

The city's architectural styles are mixed, with dilapidated and luxurious styles coexisting in a bizarre way, and a deep-rooted sense of tension permeates the air.

In addition, due to Halloween, the city was filled with a chaotic and eerie atmosphere.

With his instinctive understanding of urban layout, Pharaoh quickly found a large public library—Gotham City Library.

The museum is magnificent but somewhat old.

The Pharaoh went straight to the newspaper and local history/map section.

Rorschach, like a ghost, stood guard nearby, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings.

Finding a local newspaper—the Gotham Gazette—Pharaoh quickly flipped through the latest issues.

The front page was filled with sensational headlines:
"Blackgate Prison riot, multiple escapes!"

"Wayne Charity Gala Receives 'Riddler' Bomb Threat!"

"Large numbers of 'scarecrows' have been found in the port area, raising fear of poisonous gas!"

These headlines not only reveal the high crime rate, but more importantly, they highlight the distinctive crime codenames in quotation marks—"The Riddler," "The Scarecrow."

In the Pharaoh's knowledge base, these names did not exist in reality, but were villains from a popular comic book in his world called "Batman".

Somewhat shocked, he put down the newspaper and then quickly found a detailed map of Gotham City and a city brochure.

The map clearly shows the unique city layout.

The main island divided by the river and the narrow "narrow island", the iconic location of the Wayne Tower, and other symbolic places such as the "ACE Chemical Plant".

The city profile prominently features "Gotham City".

The name perfectly matched the fictional city in the comic book he remembered.

The description also ironically mentions that Gotham has a "long history, diverse culture, and persistent security challenges," accompanied by a photo of the city's nighttime skyline with a giant bat-shaped light projected onto the clouds in the background.

Somewhat bewildered, the Pharaoh suppressed his shock and began to peruse Gotham's historical documents and clippings, including some microfilm and archives.

He consulted earlier archives, particularly reports about the city's "volunteer police."

A blurry but distinctive photograph caught his eye.

A figure dressed as a bat leaps between tall buildings.

There was also a person wearing a brightly colored bodysuit and surrounded by electric light.

In addition, there was a strong figure wearing a red cloak, floating in the air.

The report describes how these "vigilantes" or "superheroes" fight against criminals, and the ensuing massive destruction and controversy.

The names that appear repeatedly in the report—Batman, Flash, Superman—also come from fictional comic books in the Guardians universe.

After pondering for a moment, the Pharaoh continued his investigation into information about this world.

He began to look further into national news.

The report confirmed the existence and activities of other "superhumans": Superman and Homelander in Metropolis, The Flash in Central City, Green Lantern in Beach City, and so on.

At the same time, we also saw Lex Luthor—a business tycoon and tech giant who frequently appears in economic and political news.

Additionally, the Pharaoh discovered that Smallville, Kansas, was the area with the most superheroes.

It seems that there are more unexplained events recorded there than in Metropolis and Gotham.

"Smolwell?"

The Pharaoh repeated the place name in a low voice, his brow furrowed in thought.

A few hours later, Pharaoh and Rorschach left the library.

As he left the library, the Pharaoh had already pieced together a clear picture in his mind.

He walked to Rorschach, who was standing guard in the shadows by the door, his tone calm yet carrying an all-knowing understanding:

“I already know this city and the world, at least I’ve seen the surface of it.”

"is it?"

Luo Xia asked him in a slightly hoarse voice, "Can you tell me about this world?"

"Of course, the city is called Gotham."

He looked at Rorschach and pointed to the bat-shaped light projection that once again pierced the night sky in the distance. "Those aren't ordinary searchlights. Look at those water sprites, look at the news about the 'Riddler' and the 'Scarecrow' in the newspapers, and all the iconic buildings on the map... These are all elements from that comic book story, but here..."

He emphasized, "It's true."

"Don't be surprised by the chaos here."

The Pharaoh continued, with the detached perspective of a detached observer.

"According to records, this place is known for its 'simple and honest folk customs and the abundance of talented people'—literally speaking, but it is also known for its high-IQ criminals and madmen dressed in strange clothes."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the sky as if searching for more evidence. "And the biggest difference, Rorschach, lies in the 'vigilantes.' In our world, fictional characters in comic books—Batman, Superman, Flash, Green Lantern…—are real and active here. They are not isolated cases, but constitute a huge group with supernatural powers or peak human abilities."

"In addition, there are some heroes who do not exist in our world's literature, such as Homelander."

“I suspect,” the Pharaoh’s voice deepened, carrying an analytical tone.

"It was no accident that Dr. Manhattan chose this universe. It contains all the complex variables he needed for his 'experiment': extreme evil, rampant superpowers, and the mortal will to try to establish order... He may have reshaped his appearance and identity in order to run his program on 'salvation' or 'intervention' again on this larger and more chaotic sandbox."

“But the difficulty here,” the Pharaoh said gravely, “is more than a hundred times greater than in our world. Those in uniforms are almost all superhumans or monsters walking on the edge.”

"If we want to find him?"

The Pharaoh's gaze sharpened like that of a hawk. "Like searching for a specific drop of water in a boiling ocean, we need a magnet. Rorschach, on this planet, there are only a handful of people with the wisdom to touch the edge of godhood."

“Bruce Wayne—Gotham’s Batman, his lair is here. He’s a smart guy who can help us.” “Go to Wayne Manor, Rorschach.”

The Pharaoh gave the order: "Find Bruce Wayne, observe him, test him. He is the embodiment of order and darkness. His perspective may be unique, but be careful not to disturb the bats."

He straightened his collar. "And I'm going to Smallville. I have a feeling that the most mysterious forces in the world exist there, and that I can find what I'm looking for there."

Rorschach nodded silently, and the Ink Mask took one last look at the words "Gotham City Library" carved in stone above the library's entrance before disappearing into the darker alleyway beside him, his figure as black as ink, heading towards Wayne Manor.

Pharaoh then turned and walked into the chaotic streets of Gotham, his target being the transportation hub connecting him to the outside world.

He needs to travel to Smallville to find the mysterious figures or superheroes hidden there.

The battle for Metropolis and the Parademon invasion—these news reports all confirm the power of the mysterious forces there.

He knew that there must be someone there who was no weaker than Batman.

The next day, early in the morning.

Padrick Farm.

The morning sunlight, carrying a hangover-like weariness, lazily crept across the windows of the farmhouse at Tranquil Valley, illuminating the burnt smell of bacon wafting from the kitchen.

Around the long dining table, the "fathers of sorrow" were undergoing "rehabilitation therapy" after Halloween in various listless postures.

Ah Zu sat in the main seat, his back ramrod straight like a javelin, but his clothes were stained with suspicious purple syrup, and a rare strand of his flawless blond hair was sticking up unruly.

A perfectly fried egg and bacon sat before him, but he mechanically poked at it with his fork, his sharp eyes scanning the table as if inspecting a group of unqualified soldiers.

Simply place a large plate of toasted bread with slightly charred edges in the center of the table.

Hiri and Persephone helped from the side.

As for the fathers sitting at the table, they were all in different poses.

Loki, dressed in a velvet robe, sipped his black tea elegantly, but his pale face showed obvious fatigue, and there were barely perceptible dark circles under his eyes.

Clearly, cleaning last night consumed a lot of magic power.

Tom huddled in his oversized hoodie, only half his face showing, silently eating his oatmeal porridge, radiating a "leave me alone" aura.

Star-Lord, wearing sunglasses (to hide his bloodshot eyes), was nodding off, his milk and cereal in front of him a mushy mess.

Horus, looking radiant with golden eyes, was fiddling with a fried egg.

Loli Ceresa and Loli Mordred sat together, both little ones wearing fluffy pajamas.

Ceresia used her small silver fork to pick at the sliced ​​sausage on her plate, pouting, "Aren't there any strawberries?"

Mordred, meanwhile, was holding a mug bigger than her face in both hands, gulping down hot chocolate. A ring of brown foam clung to the corners of her mouth, but her eyes held a fierce look that belied her appearance—a look that suggested she had just woken up—as she stared at the perfectly shaped fried eggs on Horus's plate.

With her messy blue pigtails, Bao Bao was so excited that she seemed out of place with her surroundings.

She was trying to bury a few of the magical "bouncing beans" (which Tom had bought for her from Hogwarts) that she hadn't finished setting off last night in the porridge.

Peter had just sat down and poured himself a cup of black coffee when Azu spoke.

"I think everyone needs to follow the rules!"

Ah Zu's deep voice cracked through the heavy air like a whip.

He felt that as the eldest son, he had to help his father rectify the atmosphere on the farm.

My father didn't say anything, so he made me play the bad guy.

"You guys were too reckless last night, you almost ruined the farm! You need to reflect on your actions!"

Upon hearing this, Bao Bao didn't tolerate him and said to A Zu, "I think the fire you started almost destroyed the farm, so you should reflect on your actions!"

Azu's face instantly darkened, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the fork: "Jinx, watch your words! And take those dangerous ingredients out of your porridge! Now!"

"No!"

Bao Bao made a face, which only made her press the beans even deeper.

Wei sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Bao Bao! Be good!"

She reached out to grab her sister's wrist. Bao Bao screamed and jerked her hand away, knocking over the large bowl of pumpkin porridge.

The sticky, orange-yellow porridge poured down like a mudslide, heading straight for Loki.

"My new bathrobe!"

Loki screamed, his elegance instantly crumbling. He tried to block with magic, but he was a step too late.

The thick pumpkin porridge still splashed onto the hem of his expensive velvet robe.

Ah! My hot cocoa!

Mordred's face flushed red as she watched her beloved drink being splattered with porridge, her eyes flashing with malice, and she slammed her little hand on the table!

"Unforgivable!"

Her small hands were surprisingly strong, and the solid wood dining table groaned under the weight, with cups and plates clattering.

"Wow! A mudslide has occurred!"

Looking at his "masterpiece," Bao Bao clapped and laughed.

"Bang bang!"

Wei was both anxious and angry, and tried to grab her sister, but Bao Bao slipped off the chair like an eel and ran around the table, shouting as she ran, "Come and catch me, Iron Fist Girl!"

Star-Lord was completely awakened by the noise, his sunglasses slipped down his nose, revealing his bloodshot eyes.

"It's so noisy! Can't a person catch up on sleep?!"

He irritably pushed away the cereal bowl in front of him, which knocked over the fried eggs that Horus had carefully arranged.

Horus looked at the broken fried egg, a hint of displeasure flashing in his golden eyes, but he remained restrained and simply moved the plate aside silently.

Raven became even more agitated by the noise and chaos, and the light around her began to distort and fluctuate unnaturally, as if she might transform into something strange at any moment to escape reality.

She was processing the fragments of Peter's soul that he had left in her body and was quite annoyed at being disturbed.

Peter looked at the chaotic scene at the breakfast.

Ah Zu's face was ashen, and a dangerous red light flickered in his eyes.

Loki tenderly wiped his robe with a tissue.

Mordred glared at Boom, the "culprit" who had knocked over her Cocoa, like an enraged little lion.

Wei is chasing after Bao Bao, who is screaming and laughing.

Star-Lord is complaining.

Horus was quietly cleaning up the mess.

"enough!"

Peter stood up abruptly, his voice not loud, but carrying a rare weariness and toughness born of being driven to the brink.

I just wanted to have a quiet breakfast, and you bunch of brats are trying to rebel?

Can't a person even eat in peace?!

Peter took a deep breath and pointed to the spilled pumpkin porridge on the floor and the messy table: "Now, everyone! Either help clean up, or—get out of the kitchen! Immediately! Right now!"

He looked at Azu.

“John, discipline includes the dining environment, right? Why don’t you clean up the ‘battlefield’ first?”

Peter then shoved the rag into Loki's hands, who was closest to him, and handed the broom to Vi, who was still "racing" with Booboo: "Vi! Catch Booboo and make her mop the floor!"

Finally, Peter looked at Mordred, who was still sulking, and magically pulled a beautifully packaged chocolate from his pocket.

"Motty, here's your hot cocoa, double the usual amount. Now, can you help Daddy put the plate away?"

Perhaps it was Peter's unusual toughness, or perhaps everyone was taken aback by Peter's sudden "rage," but the chaotic noise in the kitchen eerily paused for a few seconds.

Looking at Peter's unfriendly gaze and then at the mess, Azu finally just nodded with a grim expression.

He picked up a napkin and vigorously wiped the tiny sugar stain off his uniform.

Loki disgustedly pinched the corner of the rag and began wiping the hem of his robe, while also giving the edge of the table a couple of rubs.

Wei finally caught Bao Bao, who was giggling, pressed her down into a chair, and handed her a rag: "Wipe! Clean it!"

Mordred stared at the chocolate, then at Peter, but jumped off the chair and began to clear the empty plates in front of her with a serious face.

Ceresia pouted, picked up her small napkin, and symbolically wiped away the few drops of porridge that had splashed onto the table.

Star-Lord grumbled, but resignedly stood up and helped pick up the overturned bowl.

Mark, on the other hand, was very perceptive and helped with the tidying up.

Tom, however, stared blankly at the chaotic crowd.

Horus quietly helped clean up the scattered dishes.

Raven also quietly began to clean the area in front of her.

A breakfast world war, sparked by Halloween aftermath and mischievous kids, has temporarily entered a truce and cleanup phase under Peter's "household chores reform order."

The only sounds in the air were the rustling of brooms, the wiping of rags, and the occasional grumbling.

Jane watched this scene and felt a pang of sympathy for Peter.

Peter doesn't know whether he's lucky or unlucky to have this group of unruly kids.

Just as Jane was lost in thought, the sound from the television caught her attention.

(End of this chapter)