DC: I am Superman's NPC son?!

Stay away from Gotham.

It brings misfortune.

This had been a rule in Ian's DC Universe Survival Guide book since his transmigration.

"Even dogs wouldn't drink this, so you can have it, Auntie."

After taking one sip of the soda, Ian pulled out the straw, flipped it upside down, put it back in, and shoved it back into Kara's hand. Kara's eyebrows wrinkled so tightly they nearly formed hooks, her expression disturbingly complex.

She just stared at Ian.

"Crunch, crunch—"

Food, especially fried chicken always tasted better when someone else paid for it. Ian peeked into the bag to check how many pieces were left, his slightly disheveled bangs revealing a fair, rosy forehead.

Yes, fair white with a hint of red, truly unique.

"Your forehead... has a bullet in it." Before Kara could process Ian's strange form of address for her, she noticed the abnormality on the strange boy's face.

Truthfully, she should have spotted it earlier.

But Kara had been too distracted by Ian's good looks(retarded actions). Now that she looked properly, good lord, the handsome kid had a large-caliber pistol bullet embedded in his forehead!

"Bullet? Ridiculous!"

"Absolutely impossible. I run fast. No way those guards could hit me." Ian greedily devoured the fried chicken, his hungry body finally getting some satisfaction.

What a terrible aunt.

Trying to interrupt his meal with these lies.

How bad, really bad.

"Does your head hurt?"

Kara's eye twitched, her expression was beyond strange.

"Nope."

Ian shook his head. Taking advantage of Kara's distraction, he didn't just take one bite—he took bite after bite, performing a spectacular demonstration of how to chew and swallow fried chicken, bones and all.

He had learned this from a black friend in school, teaching him the redneck ways of barbeque in return.

"..."

Kara really failed to notice her food supply rapidly disappearing.

She just kept staring at Ian's forehead.

Finally,

The Supergirl who couldn't stand it any longer silently extended her lightning-fast hand.

Her speed was truly remarkable, before the greedily eating Ian could react, she plucked the metal bullet from his forehead with two fingers.

"You should feel pain... that would be normal."

Kara suspected this might be some elaborate prank, but after looking around and finding no cameras, she hesitantly handed the bullet to Ian.

"Huh?!"

Ian stopped eating in shock.

Just as Kara expected him to panic or even faint on the spot—

"Fake. All your imagination, Auntie. You must've eaten poisonous mushrooms this morning." Ian promptly pocketed the bullet, performing the classic "if I can't see it, it didn't happen."

"??????"

Kara squatted down to pick up the bullet that had fallen through the hole in Ian's pocket.

Seeing this,

"Alright, you win. Exposed me as a noob." Ian recalled that when he'd run further away, he had indeed turned back to look at the shooting guards.

Who knew minimum-wage security included sharpshooters?

The grind!

America's work ethic is insane!

"This really isn't some prank?"

Kara still maintained her deeply conflicted expression.

She suspected Ian might be carrying special cameras even her super-vision couldn't detect. Well, this explanation still made more sense than encountering someone completely unfazed after being shot with a large-caliber pistol.

"It's not a prank, just bioscience. Iron Head Kung Fu definitely involves some science—my forehead really harder than my skull." Ian stuffed the last piece of fried chicken into his mouth.

His absurd focus nearly made Kara lose her composure.

Seriously!

Is this how normal people react?

"If you're just looking for attention, I can recommend my therapist to you. Don't get me wrong... I just think everyone's under a lot of pressure these days."

Kara couldn't hold back anymore, though she maintained basic decorum. Before she finished speaking, Ian quitely handed over a doctor's note.

"Actually, I've stopped putting on hypocritical masks lately and feel like I'm almost cured." Ian spoke earnestly but received no response from Kara.

"..."

"..."

An awkward silence went on.

In the eerie quiet, only the sounds of Ian devouring Kara's food remained. After the chicken came the fries, one bite, two bites, three-four bites, wolfing it down like a beast.

The $100+ premium fast-food meal vanished into Ian's stomach.

"Ian Kent?"

Staring at the name on the medical form, the usually carefree Kara's eyes widened dramatically. She seemed to finally understand why he kept calling her "auntie."

Surviving a headshot suddenly made sense, truth be told, when she'd left Krypton, her escape pod had been blasted into the temporally static Phantom Zone by the planet's explosion, where space-time were relatively still. Trapped there for 24 years, she arrived on Earth still physically 13 while her "younger" cousin had already become Earth's superhero.

The full-grown adult kind.

Thus, the elder cousin became the younger.

The now-grown Clark had rescued her from the pod and entrusted her to the loving Danvers family. She'd lived in National City ever since.

As for Clark's family... well, Kara only remembered attending his wedding and hearing about his three lively, adorable children later.

Not that they were distant, in fact, Kara felt she communicated frequently with her "younger" cousin. She just hadn't interacted much with his family.

There were reasons for this- just as Kara, who'd seemed normal moments ago, suddenly clutched her head with a pained groan, bending over slightly.

"Auntie, what's wrong?"

Ian quickly steadied the slightly taller woman. Her arms felt surprisingly soft, lacking noticeable muscle, just like a normal woman. Kryptonian physiology truly was a cosmic marvel.

"Don't call me auntie... I'm not much older than you." Kara suddenly straightened up as if nothing had happened, seemingly forgetting the previous moment.

"Got it, auntie."

Ian nodded.

His was filled with confusion.

Something felt off.

But he couldn't pinpoint what.

"..."

Faced with Ian's stubbornness to not call her auntie, a frustrated Kara could only attribute it to Clark's excellent parenting. He must have emphasized respecting elders, hence Ian's deliberate "mistakes."

She was about to sigh when-

Abruptly, she froze. Even her golden locks hung motionless mid-air, no longer fluttering. The surroundings began losing color, the beige walls, gray corridors, brown floorboards, all fading like water-diluted paint, peeling away until only pale outlines remained.

A familiar fragrance tickled Ian's nose.

"Big sister."

Turning, he saw the familiar figure and had to put up the fake smiling kid act he hated the most. Still wearing Tessa's appearance, the woman in a black dress leaned against the wall.

Her eyes burned with intensity, expression slightly displeased.

Ian's heart skipped a beat.

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