In the brightly lit bedroom with the desk lamp.
Ian was still deep in thought after hanging up the phone.
"Experimental physicist... I need to find a way to scam—no, lure him and his friends over to be my Pals." Ian dug into his pants pocket.
He pulled out a thumb-sized micro-reactor. This was the device that powered the stitched-up Homelander corpse, and it would surely have extremely broad applications in many fields.
"Next time, I need to beg the Almighty Machine God Tony once more to print me some complete blueprints for this kind of invention. I hope he likes Jordan's treasured magazines."
Ian understood the concept of reciprocity. He gets to maintain a network, and his second brother gets better physical and mental health. How is that not a win-win?
"Knock knock knock~"
Sometimes, people just can't stand not being talked about.
"Ian."
Jordan's voice and a knocking sound came from outside the door.
"It's not locked."
Ian replied.
The sound of the door opening followed.
However.
Jordan still couldn't successfully enter the room.
"What's with this cabinet? I know you might have found some new toy, but you don't have to be so careful, right..." Jordan mused to himself while forcefully moving the wardrobe.
"It, and the door lock, were part of a huge gamble of mine. Clearly, I won, but not completely." Ian flipped the not-so-heavy micro-reactor in his hand.
"What on earth are you talking about?"
Jordan was utterly confused by Ian's statement.
"Never mind that. Anyway, I won. You're coming to see me this late, you aren't thinking about any of my toys, are you?" Ian looked at his second brother with vigilance.
"..."
Jordan's expression was a little embarrassed.
"Of course not!"
He hesitated for a long time, finally stammering, "Can I borrow some money? I have a small... unspeakable problem that might require a doctor visit."
His words were shocking.
Ian's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"You bought a used Noble Phantasm?"
He truly found it hard to imagine such an item circulating in the second-hand market.
"What? No! Of course not!"
Jordan's entire face flushed red.
"My eyes are just uncomfortable!" He started trying hard to defend himself. "What I... what I was doing in the dorm earlier isn't really important."
"The important thing is that my eyes might have a problem. Sometimes they turn red, just like ten minutes ago. While I was busy, I saw in the mirror that my eyes were red again."
Jordan looked incredibly flustered in his attempt to cover up the truth.
"Huh?"
Ian noticed something was wrong.
Meanwhile, Jordan was still deeply worried, his voice filled with doomsday-like despair. "I checked online. The mildest case for my symptoms is definitely cancer starting, plus zombie mutation."
His voice was tearful, not like he was acting. Perhaps because he didn't know how to explain the situation to his parents, the high school boy chose to seek help from the wealthiest man in the family.
"..."
This time, Ian was truly rendered speechless.
The room was utterly silent.
One could only feel the sorrow of a Kryptonian who had experienced a bedroom surge and, during his moment of clarity, was filled with reluctance to leave the mortal world. Ian couldn't stand his second brother's pathetic gaze anymore.
He opened his drawer, pulling out a tin box painted with the dragon Smaug. It was reasonable for a giant dragon to guard treasure, and inside was all of Ian's hard-earned wealth.
"One, two, three, four, five..." Ian counted out a thousand dollars and handed it to his desperate second brother. "Don't bother paying it back. This is your prepaid acting fee."
The boy's tone was firm.
"Acting fee?"
His second brother, Jordan, was quite confused.
"My comic will definitely be adapted into a movie, and if you don't play the absolute main character, I definitely won't sell the rights." Ian felt genuine admiration for his second brother. If he weren't pressed for time, he would definitely write a book called The Teenage Kryptonian Brother Who Didn't Rub Himself Until He Got a Superpower Diagnosis.
"Huh? Acting?"
Jordan's expression grew more bewildered.
"I haven't studied acting. Besides, aren't you just writing novels?" His understanding of Ian clearly hadn't kept up with the version iteration, but Ian didn't intend to blame him.
"You need to keep up with the times, big bro."
Ian forcefully slapped the thousand dollars into his second brother's hand.
Money had warmth.
"Thank you, Ian. You truly have always been the superhero of our family." Jordan was incredibly moved, even quoting Ian's own catchphrase.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes! That's it! If you just act naturally, I believe you can do it!" Ian felt even more confident in his brother. He finally understood why drawing Homelander came so easily to him.
"Uh..."
Jordan was still puzzled, but he didn't press the issue. He just scratched his head and said solemnly, "If I die from this illness, all my treasures in my room will be yours."
This sounded very much like someone making final arrangements, his eyes filled with reluctance to leave this world.
"Don't worry. After you die, I promise I'll put all your treasures and information online." Ian patted his chest, giving Jordan his solemn assurance.
"?????"
Jordan instantly froze.
"Didn't you mean you'd promise not to put me online?"
He suspected he had misheard.
However.
"Of course, I have to put it online. We are brothers, and even at the very end, I have to gamble on the chance that you might rise from the dead because of it." Ian remembered that his father had 'resurrected' when he was younger.
If the situation was urgent enough.
A Kryptonian might just rise from the dead.
But this rigorous logic didn't seem to be understood by Jordan. The teenage Kryptonian felt a mix of gratitude and slight terror at Ian's words.
"Uh... anyway, thank you. If I'm lucky enough to survive and get cured, I promise I'll go out and wash cars to earn money to pay you back." Jordan made a serious vow.
"Acting fee! This is your acting fee!"
Ian didn't want his second brother to pay back the Franklins.
He didn't need the money.
Of course.
Seeing Jordan walk toward the door, Ian felt he should still take some precautions. "By the way, Jordan, this money can't be used for illegal aid activities, okay?"
"Our family only spreads positive energy; we don't have 'Mae' energy or 'Ai' energy. I'll be checking in with Ms. Susan, Aunt Mary, Aunt Lisa, and Grandma Grace."
Ian named the four newly added illegal practitioners near their house.
"?????"
Jordan stumbled, nearly hitting the door frame.
"Wait, you... even the police haven't done as thorough an investigation as you, have they?" He turned back to look at his youngest brother, his face displaying the brotherly suspicion often seen in eight o'clock soap operas.
Clearly.
He was projecting again.
Ian certainly wouldn't engage in such illegal activities.
"Please, we live in Metropolis. The police only need to worry about whether their pensions are high enough. But as ordinary citizens, we have way too much to worry about."
Ian spoke with righteous indignation and emotion. "If we don't even know the situation near our own house, we won't know how to escape when a major event happens."
"Forget about how quickly we'd die." Once upon a time, Ian wasn't sleeping as soundly as he was now. This level of vigilance could definitely be considered his fundamental guarantee of security.
"..."
Jordan didn't know how to respond.
"May God bless you, my brother..." He could only mentally wish for Ian's mental health issues to heal soon, leaving with three backward glances, full of reluctance and worry.
The door closed.
"My foolish brother! God is busy! Father God's blessing is the truly high-value choice of faith. When I become successful, I must establish the real Church of Superman."
"But I won't be the Pope. I'll let Jordan do it. He owes me." Ian put down the reactor he was fiddling with. He briefly recalled the origin of Sentry.
Then.
He started writing furiously again.
This time, it was quite serious. He roughly remembered the origin story of Sentry. Ian, whose mind was focused on Sentry's power, was clearly destined to pull an all-nighter.
"Sleep is for the Weak! Time to grind!"
Ian was writing with enthusiasm.
After all, being able to freely display one's talent was truly a great thing.
Time passed by second by second.
Effort sometimes truly yielded unexpected rewards.
[Author lv1 (1/10)]
There was no prerequisite quest.
There was no warning whatsoever.
A new job class silently appeared on Ian's panel. The image of Sentry was vividly rendered on the paper, and a faint light seemed to be quietly creeping onto the next blank sheet of paper.
Perhaps.
The boy himself could not have foreseen that the histories that had been destroyed and forgotten would one day quietly revive as his ink spread across the page.
Becoming fresh once more.
***
Read 20 Chapters early on P-atreon.com/Redestro666