"You can start by getting familiar with your powers on your own," Morin said as they returned to Coast City. "And follow the fitness plan I gave you. When you've mostly got it down, I'll check your progress."
He paused.
"Slack off, and the consequences... you won't like them."
"I'll give it my all!" Hal replied instantly.
His scalp tingled as memories surfaced-Morin tearing through Green Lanterns like they were training dummies.
"But... how do I get familiar with my powers?"
"Do you know the Pythagorean theorem?"
"The Pythagorean theorem?"
"Right."
"I-I know it!"
"Good. It has nothing to do with this," Morin said, patting Hal on the shoulder. "Ever heard of Superman or Batman?"
"I know them!" Hal nodded hard.
"Then start there. Do what they do. Fight for justice-fine, fight crime. Be a hero," Morin said casually. "You'll get used to your powers that way. Once you're qualified, I'll introduce you. Or you can find them yourself."
"Alright. Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
Hal stood there, energized.
Morin knew Superman.
Thinking about it again, that made perfect sense.
Morin and Diana nodded once before boarding the Multitool Vehicle. It rose, cloaked, and vanished into the sky.
"Time to head home..." Hal changed into his uniform with a thought and shot off, already imagining how he'd show off to the person he admired most.
Gotham City.
The container district by the docks.
"Uncle Wayne," Clark asked, puzzled, "why can't I learn magic?"
"It's not that you can't. It's that I can't teach you," Bruce said calmly, long since accustomed to the way Clark addressed him. "First, I don't understand magic well enough to teach it. Second, the magic I use was passed down by Morin. Teaching it without his permission isn't appropriate."
"In that case, you might as well ask him yourself."
"Oh." Clark blinked. He genuinely hadn't known. Neither Morin nor Bruce had mentioned it before.
"Yes," Bruce continued. "Setting aside his personality, methods, and extreme pettiness, his mastery of magic is unquestionably top-tier."
"..."
Clark went quiet.
He couldn't tell if Bruce was praising Morin or insulting him.
He kind of agreed either way.
"I didn't know you admired me so much behind my back, Bruce," a voice drifted over.
Both of them stiffened.
Someone had gotten that close without being detected.
Then they relaxed.
Morin.
Who else?
They looked up at a nearby container. Morin was crouched on it, grinning down at them.
"Uncle Morin-Morin," Clark corrected himself under Morin's stare. "You're back? Where's Sister Diana?"
"You say 'Uncle' so naturally, but 'Sister Diana' comes out just as easy, huh?" Morin jumped down and ruffled Clark's hair, his expression darkening on purpose.
"..."
Clark stayed silent.
Hair ruffling didn't bother him anymore.
Talking back did.
"Diana went back to Paradise Island," Morin said after deciding Clark wasn't taking the bait. "Fear Energy. She had to warn her people. I came to check on Bruce."
He turned his gaze.
"Any results?"
"No matches," Bruce said, his voice filtered through the modulator. "No people or creatures fitting your criteria."
"Expected," Morin nodded. "Even if they exist, they wouldn't move this early."
He glanced around.
"So what are you two doing out here? Midnight stroll?"
"Yes," Bruce replied. "Clark wanted to observe my methods."
"So you brought Superman to deal with petty criminals," Morin mused. "Although... anyone still committing crimes here must be elite by now."
He thought about it.
"Why stay in Gotham? Anywhere else would be easier."
"It doesn't make sense," Bruce admitted. "They're terrified of us, but they keep coming back. Like weeds."
"That points to a deeper issue," Morin said. "Social culture. Education."
"Social culture?" Clark asked, confused.
"It's late," Morin waved it off. "Let's talk on the way back. History shouldn't record Gotham's turning point in a damp shipping yard."
"You're confident," Bruce noted.
"A little." Morin held his fingers close together. "Remember what I told you back then? I already had a way. You just wanted to find it yourself."
He sighed, shaking his head like a disappointed teacher.
Bruce: "..."
The one with the bigger fist won.
Bruce stayed quiet.
"Put simply," Morin said from the sofa at Wayne Manor, "a person's character, habits, and worldview are shaped by their environment."
"Family. Education. Social culture. Schools. Peers."
"There's a saying from China," he continued. "Touch vermilion, you turn red."
"And touch ink, you turn black," Bruce finished.
"Exactly."
Morin looked at Clark, who was listening intently despite being the youngest-and physically the biggest-in the room.
"Take you, Clark. Your parents shaped your kindness. Jonathan and Martha."
"Bruce and I aren't saints, but we have principles. That kept you from becoming kind to the point of stupidity."
He paused.
"Remember the tornado?"
Clark stiffened.
"If not for our influence, you'd have stood there and watched Jonathan die."
"...Yeah," Clark admitted quietly. "You're probably right."
"But what if you'd grown up somewhere else?" Morin asked, shifting his gaze to Bruce. "A city drowning in crime. No parents. Or parents in the underworld."
"What would you become?"
Bruce frowned. "Are you saying I'm wrong?"
"No," Morin said. "You're incomplete."
"That's why crime in Gotham regenerates endlessly."
"There's a saying," he continued. "'Gotham City-simple and honest people. Arkham Asylum-where talent gathers.'"
"...That's sarcasm," Bruce said flatly.
"Yes," Morin nodded. "And it highlights the real problem."
"Culture."
He tapped the table.
"Growing up here, how many stay clean? You fight evil. You turn fear into a symbol. Criminals tremble."
"But you missed one thing."
"When honest work can't guarantee a good life, survival becomes fear itself."
"People bow their heads to survive. And when they look down, they see the gutter."
"It's filthy," Morin said calmly. "But it feeds you."
Bruce lowered his gaze.
"You're right."
"You stand too high to see the foundation," Morin said. "But every structure depends on it."
"If you want real change, you start from the bottom."
He waved a hand in front of Clark's face.
"As for you-stop thinking so hard. This has nothing to do with you."
"Huh?" Clark blinked. "Why not?"
"You don't have ambitions. Just catch bad guys," Morin said. "That suits you."
"Wait-no!" Clark protested. "I grew up here too!"
"Do you have money?"
"...No."
"Connections?"
"...Enemies?"
"Be serious."
"...No."
"Planning to punch society into reform?"
"No!"
"Then this isn't your battlefield," Morin said. "It takes money and influence. You don't have the 'super-rich' ability yet."
"You have something more important."
Clark froze. "What?"
"Your origin," Morin said. "Arctic researchers found a ship. Your father left it for you."
"It's time."
Truthfully, Morin had only seen the news on the way back.
Man of Steel and Green Lantern overlapping was annoying.
But it was here.
He told Bruce to suit up.
Preferably without the underwear.
Clark had known for years.
Morin had planned to tell him later.
Then forgot.
"Is it finally time?" Clark asked, eyes bright. "Am I ready now?"
"Yeah," Morin nodded smoothly. "You are."
"You've got your values. External influence won't sway you."
"And it belongs to you. No one has the right to take it."
"Alright!" Clark ran out, excited.
Bruce spoke quietly.
"You forgot."
"You're mistaken."
"Then why is there a soundproofing spell?"
"...I was testing you."
"Violence after losing an argument is a bad habit."
"How about I upload the video of you getting knocked out by a kid?"
"...My mistake."
"Bruce," Morin sighed. "You've changed."
"He who touches vermilion becomes red," Bruce replied calmly. "Years with you will do that."
"Oh?" Morin narrowed his eyes. "You dare insult me?"
When did I?
I absolutely can't let this go.
"...On the subject of relinquishing humanity," Morin muttered, "I still have a lot to learn from you."
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