American comic book: My Father is Superman, am I just an NPC?

Chapter 19 You haven't said thank you yet.

It's raining.

The rain was spraying from the fire hydrant.

The atmosphere at the scene was quite subtle.

"You didn't engage the handbrake?"

The traffic police were completely dumbfounded.

"Forehead……"

Ian was somewhat reluctant to admit the elementary mistake he had made.

"This isn't the first time something like this has happened today?" The traffic policeman stared at the delinquent in front of him with an unusually serious expression, as if he had seen a real road hazard.

And at this time.

"How much compensation do you need to pay..."

Ian asked with an awkward smile.

The traffic police officer turned to look at the fire hydrant that was spraying water.

"This isn't under our police jurisdiction, but according to the road administration's standards, the repair cost would be at least $100,000." Goodness, that's why America has her own value system.

This wave of compensation is coming.

It's estimated that the omnipresent Commissioner Smith probably made a net profit of 99,000. Ian turned back to the taxi and pulled a toolbox from the side of the driver's seat.

"what are you up to!"

The traffic policeman reached for his gun.

Extremely vigilant.

Thankfully, Ian doesn't have the epic Nighttime limited edition skin, otherwise he would probably be emptying his magazine by now. He's just slightly worried that Ian will also pull out a Truth.

"Of course, it's to fix the fire hydrant!" Ian found a hammer, then forcefully pushed away the car blocking the fire hydrant, and turned around to smash the hydrant with his hammer.

"Handbrake!"

The traffic policeman saw the taxi sliding toward Ian's buttocks, so he quickly put down his gun, climbed into the taxi, and stopped the car just before it kissed Ian.

"How could someone get a driver's license like that?"

The traffic policeman wiped the sweat from his brow. He crawled out from the deformed car door and found that Ian had vanished, leaving only a fire hydrant that was no longer spraying water.

Although the fire hydrant looks terrible, at least it has been "repaired," and there is a broken-looking car key on it.

"Damn it! Where is everyone?"

The traffic police looked around.

All I saw was a figure that ran even faster than Bolt disappearing around the corner in the distance.

"Stan Lee, right!"

The traffic policeman gritted his teeth in anger. He felt that the subsequent car slippage was definitely a conspiracy by that despicable young man. He immediately picked up the walkie-talkie to start "wanting" Ian.

of course.

Since the name on the document was the pseudonym Ian wanted him to see, this "wanted" campaign was clearly not going to end well, but that didn't stop the traffic policeman from desperately seeking help from his colleagues.

above the sky.

In the clouds.

"Crack~"

Feeling somewhat exhausted, the elderly father couldn't help but slap his forehead hard. Having witnessed the whole process, he had to admit that Ian was not quite what he and Louise had previously thought.

how to say.

He has morality and conscience... but it seems like he doesn't have much of either. Clark felt immense pressure trying to raise this special child well.

"What a troublesome little guy!" Clark sighed heavily, recalling the night he found Ian. Perhaps he should have realized then that Ian's future would not be ordinary.

Now I realize it too late.

It's not too late.

Clark, now middle-aged, has three children, but compared to his eldest and second sons, he feels that Ian, his adopted son, is the one most similar to himself.

after all.

That day.

That night. And that meteor shower—it felt like a familiar cycle.

……

Because I missed the last train.

Taking a taxi was the only option that left Ian with a slight psychological shadow, but before that, his priority was to fill his stomach, which was growling from the "self-healing frenzy," as soon as possible.

The stomach is an organ of emotions.

Only after Ian had eaten his fill did he feel like going home to complain. He pushed open the door of the convenience store on the street, and a welcoming voice immediately rang out, but the word "Welcome" seemed utterly devoid of sincerity to him.

It's nowhere near as down-to-earth as "Hey bro, let's go!" Upon entering the convenience store, Ian headed straight for the "Quick Carbon" section, which contains cheap but high-calorie processed foods.

"This, this, this." Ian, through his own efforts, had more money than his two older brothers combined, so he didn't need to worry about being short of cash when shopping. The cashier was a young man with glasses; his clear eyes gave off the air of someone who worked hard to earn money.

"That's $29.45 in total."

The deliveryman scanned the barcodes of all the food items one by one.

"Ah."

As Ian stuffed something into his mouth, he took out three ten-dollar bills and counted out forty-five cents. He clearly saw the cashier suddenly freeze for a moment.

"You can just give me a dollar."

Ian gave the other person a reminder.

"oh oh."

The cashier suddenly realized what was going on, but not completely. He picked up a calculator and did some quick calculations before giving Ian a one-dollar bill in change.

"Thank you."

Ian turned to leave, munching on his hot dog.

At this moment.

Welcome!

The emotionless voice rang out again at the convenience store entrance, but the person who entered was full of emotion. Wearing a stocking over his head and holding a small-caliber pistol, he rushed towards the cashier.

"Robbery!!"

What a cliché plot.

People who don't know better might think this is Gotham City next door.

"No tricks allowed!"

The robber pointed his pistol at the terrified cashier, then glanced warily at Ian, who was standing nearby, and instinctively moved the pistol toward Ian as well.

Upon seeing the gun barrel pointed at him, Ian immediately raised his hands.

"Well, everyone has their own hardships, I understand you." Ian wasn't trying to get close to him or being sentimental; he just noticed the robber's dark wrist.

The boy knew.

The robbers were simply carrying out the meaning that their black skin gave them.

"Who's the devil? Who's suffering more?" The robber was clearly bewildered and didn't quite understand Ian's American-style poetry. He was furious, as if his intelligence had been insulted.

"Get out of here, you brat!"

obviously.

This was an ambitious robber, only interested in big business and looking down on the meager earnings of a high school student. So he brandished his pistol a few times, threatening Ian to leave quickly.

"Okay, I'll get out of here."

Ian ran quickly out of the convenience store.

Just as the robbers were preparing to focus on dealing with the deliveryman...

Welcome!

Ian came full circle again.

He certainly didn't want to be a superhero, defeating robbers and saving the store—that's the insurance company's job. The detail-oriented teenager simply realized a very important issue after stepping onto the street.

"Well, I respected America's street traditions, but did someone forget to thank me?" Soul pollution might not be entirely without its effects on Ian.

His perspective has become noticeably more unconventional than before.

[P.S.: Thank you so much to the three generous donors! Please add to your favorites, follow my story, vote with monthly tickets, and support me! I'm deeply grateful to you all! I have a backlog of chapters; if the sales are decent, I'll release it and update daily with 2 words!]

(End of this chapter)