Hidden Secrets

—S.H.I.E.L.D. had always been a semi-secret organization.

Most ordinary people didn't know about it, but if you looked into it, you could find some information.

Soren nearly exposed how much he really knew about S.H.I.E.L.D. in front of Clark.

Clark nodded, "Alright, I'll take him to S.H.I.E.L.D. soon."

Clark was well aware of the existence of S.H.I.E.L.D.

His super hearing now covered all of North America, and if he wanted, no sound, no matter how small, could escape him.

He knew S.H.I.E.L.D. handled security issues caused by superpowered individuals, but he wasn't particularly interested in them and didn't want to get too involved.

However, since Soren thought handing Captain America over to S.H.I.E.L.D. was the best idea, Clark wasn't going to argue.

Captain America showed no signs of waking up yet, likely due to being frozen for so long.

Clark suddenly remembered something and asked Soren to wait in the medical room while he went to grab something.

Soren didn't think much of it and stayed behind, he was curious about Superman's legendary secret base.

Just imagine—a building made of ice crystals, packed with Kryptonian tech—it was like Clark's version of a Barbie Dreamhouse!

He wandered around the medical room, checking out the advanced alien tech, even poking a small robot in the head just for fun.

The medical robot, with its oval-shaped head, wobbled under Soren's pokes, its display flashing confused characters before making a clanking sound: "Please do not disturb Robot 9-9's balance, Master Soren. Robot 9-9 is currently working."

Soren laughed, amused by the little robot, "Master? You're calling me Master? Why? And why are you named 9-9? Did Clark name you?"

The robot's screen glitched for a moment before responding, "Master Kal-El has programmed your biological data as having the highest access rights here. Therefore, you are also Master of Robot 9-9. Master Kal-El gave 9-9 its name. 9-9 does not know why it is called 9-9."

So cute and obedient.

Soren couldn't help but laugh, patting its round head.

Just as he was about to say something else, he heard a faint sound in the quiet medical room.

He turned toward the exam table.

Captain America was still lying there, his eyes were closed, with a peaceful expression.

"...Is he waking up?" Soren whispered to himself, walking closer to the table.

He reached out and touched Captain America's fingers.

They were still ice-cold, stiff like the frozen ground beneath the Arctic.

No signs of waking up at all.

Soren figured he must have imagined the sound.

He pulled his hand back and called over to 9-9, "9-9, check when he'll wake up."

9-9 rolled over on its tracks, opening a small door on its cylindrical body, extending medical tools: "Okay, Master Soren."

Soren didn't have to wait long in the medical room before Clark returned, holding a small box.

"What's that, Clark?" Soren asked.

Clark placed the box on the exam table, his eyes gentle, "Actually, the reason I brought you here was for this. Remember the time you fell off a horse and hurt your neck? You still have a metal plate holding it in place. This is a Kryptonian restoration device. I can perform a small procedure to fix the injury, and you won't need that metal plate anymore."

The moment Clark mentioned "horse riding," Soren's alarm bells went off.

Before Clark could finish, Soren had already covered the back of his neck in panic, "No—I don't need it—"

He vividly remembered the year he had a gene suppressor implanted, which led to severe rejection symptoms.

Even though Batman had later built and improved the device based on Soren's designs, using Earth materials instead of the special materials from New Earth meant the gene suppressor still caused him a lot of suffering.

The rejection was so severe that Soren almost ended up in the hospital.

That summer, he returned to New York City alone, barely able to move.

He spending most of his time lying in bed, in unbearable pain.

He had almost thought he'd die from the rejection symptoms—the gene suppressor system running in his body made him tremble in agony, as if his very bones were being whipped.

Batman hadn't anticipated just how bad the rejection would be.

One night, while Soren silently endured the pain, Batman appeared in his room and, without a word, took him from New York to Gotham, back to the Batcave.

In the Batcave, Soren underwent more than half a month of medical observation.

During that time, Batman hardly slept, tirelessly working to stabilize the rejection while also redesigning the suppressor.

That was the only summer Soren hadn't spent with Clark.

Soren never told Clark about any of this.

In the letters he wrote to Clark, he happily said he was vacationing in Hawaii with friends, spending his days surfing, diving, and fishing.

He even "accidentally" injured his neck and had a harmless little surgery.

After Batman improved his suppressor, he coated the outside with a thin layer of lead, so Clark's X-ray vision couldn't see through it.

Clark genuinely believed Soren's lie, thinking the device was just a plate to stabilize his neck injury.

When Clark saw how strongly Soren reacted, he frowned in confusion, "What's wrong?"

Soren kept his hand on the back of his neck, looking uneasy.

He couldn't tell Clark about the suppressor or anything about his true identity.

If Clark knew about it, he would quickly figure out that Soren had come into his life with a hidden agenda.

Soren was terrified that knowing the truth would change Clark's attitude toward him.

He couldn't bear the thought of anything that might cause Clark to pull away from him.

Just the idea of Clark looking at him like a stranger made Soren's heart race with panic.

As he became more anxious, he could feel Clark's gaze growing more curious, almost suspicious.