The Normal Life Of The Other Demon

A Visit and Tied

Bruce's P.O.V.:

"You're overreacting, Bruce. They couldn't have possibly done that."

"I may not have known my kids for that long, Clark. But when I tell you they're trouble, they're trouble."

Clark and I are sitting in my car as I drive us back to his house in Smallville. The sun is beginning to set, causing the once blue sky to turn into a vibrant orange and yellow.

"I'm just saying," he says, putting his hands up in defense, "they're not that bad."

I take my eyes off of the road and stare at him, cocking an eyebrow. "What about them screams nice, normal, and well-behaved children?"

"I'm pretty sure they know better than to destroy a house that's not theirs," he says. "Right?"

I hum, turning my attention back to the road in front of me. "Did I ever tell you what those two did on the second day living at the manor?"

"No," Clark answers wearily. "Why?"

"They snuck out of the house to go trash someone else's house in an attempt to kill them."

Clark stares at me wide-eyed, taken aback from the information. "Just some random civilian."

"No," I answer. "Ubu."

"Wait. Isn't that guy like ten times their size?"

"No matter how big or strong someone is, they always find a way to take them down."

"They sound a lot like you," he says, leaning back into his seat.

"I don't go around trashing people's houses and putting them on life support," I argue.

Clark stays silent, cocking an eyebrow at me. "That's the sole purpose as to why you're feared, Bruce," he deadpans. "You do exactly that."

"I don't," I growl.

"Tell that to the mob bosses who fear you."

I roll my eyes at his comment. "As if any one of them would stay still and be quiet."

We continue to drive in silence, not a word spoken between us. We're currently in Smallville, a few more minutes, and we'll be at his house.

"You know Bruce," Clark says, breaking the silence. "I seriously doubt that anything bad has happened with the twins and Lois."

"Can't be so sure about that, Clark. They just recently went out shopping for food."

"For food?" he asks. "That's what you're worried about? Afraid that Lois is asking them to buy poison for the dinner than she's making?"

"They bought ice-cream," I add.

"And?" Clark says. "They bought stuff that Lois asked them to."

"They bought almost $400 worth of ice-cream," I deadpan.

"For who?!"

"For Jon."

"What the—my god, Jon," he says, running his hands down his face. "I'll pay you back, Bruce."

"The money isn't what I'm worried about," I answer. "It's the fact that Demetria constantly steals the money without me knowing and proceeds to purchase anything to her heart's desire."

"She was able to steal money from you?" he asks, surprised from the information. "Wow."

"A strange piece of work she is," I admit, pressing on the gas.

A few minutes in the drive and the small blue house appears into view. In front of the house, there are now three bikes up against the white porch. I park the car right behind Clark's red truck, climbing out of the vehicle.