DC: Starting With Homelander As My Child!

"If I were you, I'd leave this place for your own safety."

The Martian Manhunter spoke bluntly to the group.

"Damn it! Are you guys tired of living?"

One of the enraged thugs stepped forward, ready to attack Martian Manhunter and Peter.

As the thugs charged, Peter sighed, casually catching the outstretched hand of one of them.

Though he didn't want to interfere, now that Martian Manhunter had stepped in, he couldn't just stand aside.

Grabbing the thug's fingers, Peter twisted them like wringing a sparrow's neck.

The burly thug let out a sharp scream and swung his meaty hand at Peter, aiming for a slap.

Peter leaned slightly to the side, causing the thug's hand to slam into the wall instead.

"Ahhh!"

The thug's index and middle fingers bent backward at a grotesque angle. After the crisp sound of bones breaking, an agonized wail filled the air.

"Nice. Two fingers on the left hand to match the right. Perfect symmetry."

Peter nodded in satisfaction, then caught an incoming butterfly knife aimed at him. With his free hand, he delivered a lightning-fast punch to the attacker's face.

The punch was so quick, it left no visible trajectory.

The attacker's head buzzed, and blood gushed from his nose as the butterfly knife fell from his hand, embedding itself in the ground.

Meanwhile, Martian Manhunter's movements were equally efficient. In mere moments, he had the rest of the thugs groaning on the ground.

A young boy, lying among the defeated thugs, gaped at the two men who had so effortlessly dealt with the bullies.

After the thugs scurried away in disgrace, the boy staggered to his feet, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and glanced at the pair with labored breaths.

"Are you okay, kid?"

Martian Manhunter approached him, concern evident in his tone.

"I... I'm fine. Thank you."

The boy, with an air of quiet dignity, bit his lip and clutched his injured, bleeding arm, trying to hide any sign of weakness.

"You don't look fine. Do you need a doctor?" Martian Manhunter asked, studying the boy. "What's your name?"

The boy hesitated, glancing at Peter, before finally replying, "Thomas. My name is Thomas."

"Hmm, Thomas. Do you need us to take you home?"

"No, no need. Anyway, thank you for your help. I think I should leave now."

At the mention of being taken home, Thomas's expression became flustered. He clutched his arm and stumbled away.

But soon, he stopped, glancing at his dirty, tattered clothes. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to Martian Manhunter, suppressing the pain in his body.

"Sir, can I borrow some money from you?"

Martian Manhunter blinked in surprise, exchanging a glance with Peter before clearing his throat. "I'm just a butler. Perhaps you should ask my employer."

He deftly passed the responsibility to Peter, who had been silently observing.

Peter was caught off guard. This green-skinned guy is sneakier than he looks!

As Thomas turned his pleading gaze toward him, Peter was about to decline when the boy earnestly said, "Sir, I'd like to borrow $100. I'll repay you $1,000 in a month."

Peter: "?!"

Thinking Peter found the offer insufficient, Thomas quickly added, "How about $2,000?"

"Or $5,000?"

"$10,000?"

Hearing the boy's escalating promises, Peter and Martian Manhunter exchanged bewildered looks.

Is this kid joking?

"Sir, I'm not joking. I can really repay you $10,000," Thomas insisted earnestly.

Realizing his words sounded unconvincing, he took a deep breath and added firmly, "You can give me your address."

Initially, Peter had planned to refuse, but now the boy's audacity piqued his curiosity.

Stripped down to nothing but his clothes after being robbed, yet boldly offering $10,000 in return for $100? How intriguing.

Peter pulled out his wallet and handed Thomas a $100 bill.

"I look forward to your promise."

"Thank you. I promise, sir."

Thomas nodded solemnly, accepting the money. After giving them the name of his hotel in Metropolis, he staggered away.

In the car, Peter's adopted son, Azu, who had witnessed the entire scene from the backseat, confidently declared, "Dad, you've been scammed. Want me to chase him down and get your money back?"

To Azu, his father's money was as good as his inheritance, and someone daring to scam his dad was effectively scamming him—a crime he couldn't forgive.

Peter chuckled, brushing off Azu's indignant offer. Instead, he turned to Martian Manhunter. "Mr. Jones, what's your take?"

"I don't think he's a habitual liar," Martian Manhunter replied while driving.

"Really? If he's not a liar, why give us a fake name?" Peter asked skeptically.

"Perhaps he has his reasons."

Peter eyed Martian Manhunter suspiciously. "Mr. Jones, you can read minds. Did you peek into his thoughts?"

"No, I didn't," Martian Manhunter replied with a shake of his head. "Reading someone's mind is intrusive. I try to avoid it unless necessary."

Azu, overhearing this, rolled his eyes internally. Sure. You read me and Clark like an open book the first time we met. Who's buying that excuse?

Later that evening, after helping their friends settle into a hotel, Peter and Martian Manhunter prepared to visit a nearby bar.

But as soon as they stepped outside, a familiar voice called out.

"Mr. Podrick!"

Peter turned to see Thomas again—his face bruised, his clothes even more disheveled than before.

"Sir, can you lend me another $100?"