The Comprehensive Evolution of American Comics

On a seemingly endless expanse of ruins, two slender figures were cautiously making their way forward.

Their attire was peculiar, resembling desert travelers, cloaked to conceal their upper bodies, with their faces hidden under hoods, obscured by shadows, making it impossible to discern their features.

They moved slowly, pausing every few steps to sift through the rubble and debris underfoot, seemingly searching for something.

Despite the desolate appearance of the ruins, they managed to unearth some useful items, such as a broken tape recorder and a shattered cash register – mere trash that most people would overlook.

Judging by their straightened backs and cheerful movements, they were quite pleased with their finds, eagerly stowing the discovered treasures into the backpacks on their backs.

"It's time to go, Reed," the more slender figure suddenly spoke, revealing a woman's voice.

"It's almost afternoon, and those gang members will be out soon. The Supreme Alliance will also be here in a while. We need to reserve some time to find food."

"I know, Susan," Reed glanced at the children's digital watch on his wrist, sighing at the sight of the cute pony design. "My informant brought news that the Viper Gang will be out early today. They're planning to designate a day as their holiday, seems like it's today."

"Holiday? Sunday?" Susan frowned, unable to conceal her disgust.

"Yes, they even gave it a name, 'Crazy Sunday.'"

"Sounds like a membership day for some fast-food brand."

"You better not mention that in front of Johnny; he's been craving that junk food for a long time."

Susan sighed. Actually, she felt the same way. She used to always tell Johnny to eat less junk food, but now her words had become a reality – they might never eat it again. Even she was starting to crave those unhealthy flavors.

They took it for granted when it was easily available, but now that they were down on their luck, it was out of reach.

For some reason, Reed's mood also turned somber. The two, possibly disheartened because they couldn't get junk food, walked back to their base in silence, cautiously and erratically.

Reaching a place covered by a large stone slab, Reed crouched down and rhythmically tapped the slab a few times, then stepped back to wait.

They didn't have to wait long. After a few seconds, the stone slab lifted slightly, revealing a gap large enough for one person to pass through. Reed and Susan squeezed in one after the other.

Once both of them were under the slab, it slowly returned to its original position, blending seamlessly with the ground as if nothing had happened.

Susan and Reed landed steadily. After the sound of their shoes scraping the ground faded away, dim lights suddenly illuminated the dark space, and a large stone-carved face appeared before them.

"Welcome back, Reed, Susan."

"We're safely back, Ben," Susan tossed her backpack to Reed and stepped forward to gently hug the stone man's waist. "Have you grown taller again?"

"I don't think so?" Ben scratched his stone head. "Please don't grow any taller. If I keep growing, I'll have to walk hunched over."

"Don't listen to Susan, Ben," Reed chimed in. "She's just teasing you. I remember your height; it hasn't changed from two days ago."

Hearing his friend's clarification, Ben wiped away nonexistent sweat and breathed a sigh of relief. This was the first time since his creation that he was happy about not growing taller.

Susan said unhappily, "I wasn't teasing Ben. Not everyone can remember things as accurately as you do."

"Yes, yes, I was wrong," Reed readily admitted his mistake. "Let's go, you two. We have another family member waiting for us."

Ben quickly snatched the backpack from Reed's hands. In his current state, he couldn't go out, which troubled him greatly. He wasn't lazy by nature and could only find things to do within his capabilities.

"Um," Reed looked at his elongated arm. "But your strength seems to have increased a bit."

"I know that," Ben scratched his head in embarrassment. "I accidentally broke the radio you fixed. I swear I just pressed the button."

"The radio broke? Johnny must have been complaining all morning," Reed didn't blame Ben but instead joked. "Let's go in quickly, so he doesn't throw a tantrum."

With that, Reed smiled, stretched out his arms, and guided the tall Ben and the small Susan inside.

...

'Reed's Internal Notes, Third Entry.'

Reed sat in a corner, fiddling with the radio in his hand, thinking listlessly. Behind him were Ben, Susan, and Johnny, sitting on several car seats, chatting.

'Since the unknown energy burst, a week has passed. I now give the naive me from a week ago the middle finger.'

Reed threw the broken radio casing aside, picked up another casing, and began installing it, multitasking by organizing the information he had gathered over the past few days in his mind.

'Originally waiting for rescue in the ruined New York, we received news five days ago using the radio I pieced together: General Ross, the military's top figure, is dead, assassinated by an unknown superhuman.'

'Not only that, General Ross's daughter also disappeared at almost the same time, which led to the first superhero—Hyperion's loss of reason. After all, who would have thought Hyperion was General Ross's son?'

'It is said that Hyperion was in a state of exhaustion due to suppressing the New York riots. He was attacked by an unknown superhuman who seized the opportunity. The result of the battle was Hyperion falling unconscious, and the Supreme Squadron suffering heavy casualties.'

'After waking up, Hyperion, having received news including his father's death, his sister's disappearance, and the death of his comrades, underwent a drastic change in personality, resulting in the United States almost becoming his dictatorship.'

Reed held a screwdriver, tightening the screws little by little.

'So, what has this superhuman president done since taking office? Of course, he wants to find the superhuman who caused his family's ruin. This is understandable, but it has implicated all superhumans.'

Reed sighed, recalling the despairing news he had heard on the radio a few days ago.

"We must nip the danger in the bud," Hyperion's haggard voice came from the recorder, interspersed with many voices of discussion.

This was natural because the program being broadcast at the time was a comfort broadcast hosted by the president himself to appease the masses. Obviously, this superhero had crashed the program uninvited.

"From today onwards, all superhumans will be subject to control, starting with those in the United States."