No tough leather jacket wearing beast straddling a Harley, no black belt with a kick that would send the biggest guy tumbling back like a little girl, would want to get into it with the sixteen year old son of Superman. Chris’ punch would do a lot more than break a jaw or leave the recipient with a black eye. Taking a full on hit from him could knock a head clean off the shoulders, and that was one of the reasons he only hit when he was supposed to hit. He could restrain himself enough to not do the sort of damage that would be deadly, but it was difficult for him to do and if anybody was going to teach him how to control it, it would have to be someone with as much resistance to damage as he had claim over.
“It sounds like a reasonable motto,” he commented, taking himself to stand close enough to the edge that giving Lois a heart attack if she were around to see him would be a must. Taking a dive off a building wasn’t life threatening for him. Being able to fly made it so that it was no more dangerous than stepping off of a curb. Even so, no mother could keep her heart calm when her kid was lingering too close to a long drop down.
Chris shrugged, placed his sights to the rising smoke in the distance and looked through the buildings that stood in his way. “I’m okay. He hasn’t done anything major yet. I’m sort of surprised.” Zod didn’t enjoy waiting. Placing himself right into everything was more his style and his silence got him worrying about what he had in mind for all of them.
Smiling over at his new friend, Chris reverted his eyesight back to normal. “There’s a fire out there. It’s a building.”
Surely somebody was taking care of it. That’s what the fire department was for, and if there were people trapped, he was sure that Superman would get them out in time. He blinked at the red light, more surprised than bothered. The transformation was impressive. “Yeah, I guess. My dad’s good at the whole hero thing.”