Marvel: Father of Superheroes

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Seeing his father and two younger brothers all trying to persuade him, Clark hesitated for a moment before saying, "I'll think about it."

With that, he quickly finished his dinner and headed upstairs.

Watching him leave, the three remaining family members sighed.

Mike placed a piece of meat onto Charles' plate and said, "Eat up. I'll go talk to him later. If he really doesn't want to go, I won't force him."

Charles muttered, "I was hoping the three of us might get a chance to attend together this time."

"You three?" Mike raised an eyebrow. "Isn't this a graduation dance?"

"We got invited by others," Charles said, blinking mischievously. "A couple of senior girls who are graduating asked me and Erik to go."

Erik nodded, a bit excited. "I heard it's pretty fun."

Mike narrowed his eyes. "Cougars going after younger guys?"

"Cough, cough!" Charles' face flushed. "Dad, what are you even thinking? It's just food, music, and dancing. Nothing else."

Erik nodded in agreement. "If I wasn't curious about the dance itself, I wouldn't have accepted the invite."

Mike gave them both a skeptical look. After a long pause, he smirked and said, "No funny business. I don't want to be a grandpa by next year."

"Dad!" Charles widened his eyes in disbelief. "What kind of thoughts are going through your head? You seriously need to cleanse your mind."

Smack!

Mike tapped Charles on the head with his chopsticks. "Watch your mouth, kid."

"Ow!"

Charles rubbed his head, still grinning, and took another bite of food.

"Dad, if we're going to the dance, we'll need outfits," Erik said.

He added, "Something formal."

"No problem. When's the dance?"

"The day after tomorrow."

Mike considered for a moment before saying, "Alright, tomorrow we'll go into the city and buy some clothes."

"Dad! I love you!"

Charles grinned and threw Mike a playful wink.

Mike shuddered. "Don't try that on me—I'm not some giggling schoolgirl."

"Hahaha!"

Erik laughed and slapped the table. "Dad, how do you even know Charles uses that trick on people?"

Mike shrugged. "Don't forget, I raised you boys. I know what you're up to before you even open your mouths."

"Ha!"

The two laughed—then suddenly froze.

Wait… something about that sentence didn't sound right.

"Ahem, hurry up and eat!" Mike knocked on the table. "You two clean up after dinner."

They nodded.

A few moments later, after finishing his meal, Mike headed upstairs. He stopped outside Clark's door, raised his hand to knock—then hesitated. He took a moment to organize his thoughts before finally rapping on the door.

Clark opened it and sighed. "Dad, you…"

Mike stepped inside with a smile. Seeing books scattered across the bed, he sighed. "You're all grown up now. Have you decided on a university yet?"

Clark was an outstanding student with many options, having received acceptance letters from several schools.

"I chose one that's closer to home."

"Harvard?"

"Yeah."

Clark nodded. "It's a good school."

Mike smiled, looking at the young man in front of him with satisfaction.

Tall and well-built, handsome features, blue eyes, and thick black hair—not only did he have the looks, but he excelled academically, was polite, and had a gentle personality.

Damn, I really did a great job raising this kid.

"Dad, what's on your mind?"

Clark waved a hand in front of Mike's face.

Mike snapped out of his thoughts and said, "Tomorrow, Charles and Erik are coming with me to buy outfits for the dance. You should come too."

Clark hesitated and said, "Dad, I've thought about it… I don't think I'll go."

"That's fine, but think carefully. There's only one senior prom—you won't get a second chance."

"I…"

"Didn't you say you wanted to experience the life of an ordinary high school student?"

Clark faltered. He thought about how he had barely interacted with his classmates and braced himself before saying, "Dad, finding a dance partner now is tough. Most of them made plans weeks ago."

Mike chuckled and patted Clark's shoulder. "Relax. I bet there's a girl out there in the same situation as you. You might just find the perfect match that night."

Seeing Clark still looking uncertain, Mike cleared his throat and leaned in, lowering his voice. "Or… are you afraid of causing a scene?"

Clark's eye twitched, and the corner of his mouth jerked uncontrollably. "Dad!" he snapped.

Mike let out an awkward laugh. "Don't worry, there'll be—"

Clark's face turned red. "I already took care of it!" he blurted out.

Mike froze for a second before clapping Clark on the shoulder. "Atta boy!"

Clark: "…"

"Alright, then it's settled. Tomorrow, you're coming with us."

Before Clark could protest, Mike stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Then, noticing the door to the opposite room was slightly ajar, he crooked a finger.

Charles and Erik sheepishly pushed the door open and walked out.

"Dad, how'd it go?"

"Mission accomplished. He's coming with us tomorrow."

"Yeah!"

The two brothers cheered.

Erik grinned. "Come prom night, we'll own the dance floor!"

Charles smirked. "Just so you know, I'm not giving up the King title."

Every year, the prom crowned a King and Queen.

Erik folded his arms and gave Charles a sidelong glance. "You? Really?"

After sizing him up, he scoffed. "You're too short."

Due to differences in their growth spurts, even though they were twins, there was now a noticeable height gap between them.

Charles gritted his teeth. "We'll see on prom night!"

He had a strong fan club, after all.

"Hmph!"

"Hmph!"

The two huffed at each other before turning and heading back to their rooms.

A year ago, after much pleading, the twins—who had shared a room for fourteen years—had finally started sleeping separately.

Mike watched them go, shaking his head.

Just a second ago, they were hyped about ruling the dance floor together. Now they were ready for war?

With a sigh, he went downstairs, brewed himself a cup of coffee, and returned to his room.

Sitting at his desk, he focused, and an empty card appeared in his hand. He held it tightly, channeling his energy into it.

Two hours later, a new card was formed.

The image on the card depicted an endless frozen landscape, with a figure standing atop it, an air of lazy indifference on his face.

Mike carefully stored the card before taking a long-overdue look at his system interface.

After nearly being screwed over by the system once before, he had made a habit of checking it regularly—just in case something unexpected popped up.

After a thorough inspection, he confirmed that there was nothing new and finally relaxed.

(End of chapter.)