SUP Chapter 10: Metropolis Daily Life

As always, those prepared for transmigration to the DC universe would understand.

What the Light Lounge in Los Angeles meant.

“Lucifer…” Ian swallowed, murmuring softly.

“Huh?”

Madison’s ears were sharp. “How’d you know that guy’s name? Yeah, so cheesy, someone actually named themselves Lucifer Morningstar.”

“Totally laughable, like a washed-up rock star. Such a waste of a handsome face. You’re way better than that dumb bar owner.”

Madison’s biting sarcasm was on point.

Ian glanced at her. The blonde girl was smugly critiquing the King of Hell’s taste, oblivious to who she was dissing.

“Little rebel.” He spoke up.

“Hm?”

Madison looked at her desk mate suspiciously.

“Hope you’ll be a good person and get to heaven.” Ian offered a sincere blessing, but Madison just rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“I don’t buy that heaven-hell nonsense. Besides, good people don’t make it in Hollywood.” Her dream was to become a big star.

Ian didn’t explain, just sighed softly. Then, a whiff of cheap perfume hit, far less refined than Madison’s.

A girl with wavy brown hair approached, holding a necklace, eyes expectant.

Emily.

The classmate who’d “tripped” into Ian’s arms over ten times.

“Ian, you missed school yesterday. Were you sick?” Emily’s concern was thick as she greeted him.

“Are you cursing me to be sick?”

Ian frowned, his focus quirky.

“…”

Emily froze, then forced a smile, holding up the necklace. “My bad. Can you help me put this on? It’s a birthday gift from my mom.” She stretched the word “birthday,” emphasizing it.

“My mom gets me birthday gifts too.” Ian gave her a clear-eyed glance, then returned to organizing his books.

The conversation died.

Embarrassment flashed across Emily’s face. A nearby male classmate eagerly stepped in, smiling. “I’ll help.”

A helpful kid, but his freckles crossed the line of “charming.” Likely why Emily recoiled, pulling her hands back.

“No thanks.”

She was polite but firm. The boy stood confused, unaware of why.

“Hilarious!”

Madison burst out laughing, collapsing onto her desk, shoulders shaking. “Hahaha! Emily, your acting’s awful!”

She didn’t miss a chance to jab.

“Mind your own business, Miss Montgomery!” Emily snapped, indignant. Madison shrugged off the warning.

She wasn’t done stirring the pot.

“Big sis is in a good mood today, so I’ll teach you how to handle Ian.” Madison unclasped her necklace.

“Tie it on, study freak.” She turned her back to Ian, slapping a ten-dollar bill onto his book.

Instantly, Ian sprang into action, deftly taking the necklace, weaving it through her blonde hair, and fastening it in under three seconds.

Pure skill.

Especially how fast he pocketed the ten bucks.

Madison was loaded, and for a middle schooler, that was serious cash. The bill trumped Ian’s laziness; book knowledge couldn’t beat Alexander Hamilton.

Only Franklin was nine-tenths stronger.

Impressive enough.

“See? That’s pro-level.” Madison smirked provocatively at Emily, taking back the five bucks Ian gave as change, Superman’s son had principles about earning his pay.

“Just you wait, b*tch! Don’t let me catch you after school!” Emily, already fuming, stomped off, teeth gritted.

Madison ignored the threat.

“Seriously, where’d you skip school to? Don’t say a bookstore.” Madison resumed chatting, pulling out nail polish.

“I didn’t skip.” Ian corrected her.

“I took sick leave.”

He was precise.

“Oh? Sick leave?” Madison held her shiny nails to the sunlight.

“Yeah, my parents took me to a psychologist.” Ian saw no need to hide it. Seeing a therapist wasn’t odd in the U.S.

After all, Americans weren’t made of steel. Therapy was routine here, though many didn’t get why it was so popular.

“A misery contest?”

Madison raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“Is there a prize?”

Ian’s focus was, as ever, unique. Madison pouted, unleashing a championship-level eye-roll.

“I see a shrink too. If there’s a prize, I’d win.” She flipped her hand, catching sunlight on her fresh polish.

“What’d your doctor say?” she asked casually.

Ian thought for a moment, “Said I’ve got some mental issues.”

He didn’t hide it.

Madison scoffed. “Therapists love scaring people to make bank. It’s about how you see yourself.”

Her words had a philosophical ring, surprising for a student with single-digit grades. Ian pondered.

“I think my shrink was too conservative. Honestly, my mental issues are probably top of our grade.”

His tone was earnest.

“What?”

Madison was stunned.

“You’re competing over that? More competitive than me?” She gaped at Ian like he was an incomprehensible creature.

Then, the first class began. As the teacher discussed “World War II’s turning point,” a deafening roar came from outside.

The ground shook.

Students screamed, diving under desks.

The history teacher glanced out the window, then returned to the board, calmly adjusting his glasses. “No need to panic.”

“Just another plane crash. Doesn’t affect class. In Metropolis, this is normal. Superman’s probably saved the passengers already.”

He spoke of the crash like it was small talk, utterly calm—a true Metropolis vibe, next to Gotham.

“Cool.” Madison whistled from her seat.

Classmates nodded, reassured, accepting the teacher’s comfort, and the classroom regained its harmony.

“…”

Ian’s expression was colorful. He glanced at the distant smoke outside, hesitating, then blended into the collective calm.

Moments ago, he’d been discussing his mental state.

Now, he felt like the only sane person in the room.

Didn’t anyone notice?

That the plane had already exploded.

[NEXT CHAPTER]