- Three o'clock. - The hoarse voice of the commander sounded in my ear, and, aiming at the target, I fired a single shot. Right in the head, just as I'd been taught. The temple of the creature, which had been doing whatever it pleased with impunity for a long time until we were sent here, shattered into pieces from my bullet. The bullet, meeting no resistance, exited the other side, and yet another terrorist was dead. The two-hundredth? Or more? I couldn't even remember anymore. - Excellent. Move on.
The commander's firm voice was calming, and the stock, pressing solidly into my shoulder, felt like a third limb. Always there, always reliable. Rising from the hillock and removing my camouflage, I ran toward my guys. We needed to finish this mission and head home. But I didn't make it… to my relief.
- Sprea… - The captain didn't get to finish as the entire group, except for me and Ryan, the second sniper, was blown into the air. Shreds splattered my suit, and the blast threw me back, my head slamming into the ground. The next thing I remembered was those creatures torturing us, followed by an escape. Weeks of walking through the desert with just a single bottle of water. With one single goal—to survive.
I made it back then, though I could've just walked away. I returned with a desire to avenge my team. They weren't close friends, but we shared rations and shed blood together. They were my comrades. Unfortunately for the brass, I was no longer needed there. Having lost one eye—though not completely—they wrote me off. Damn bureaucrats! When someone suggested there was a way to fix it with a bribe, I told him to shove it. The next scene—me killing the same guy who'd offered to settle it with money. Oh, that pig squealed for a long time before bleeding out. Deciding to sell me and our whole group out, he made a big mistake. I survived, and I never forgive betrayal. The next thing that hit me was the unbearable heat from the station's explosion that killed me. Damn Australia.
A flash—and I woke up. Damn it, those dreams again. Shaking my head and wiping off the sweat that wouldn't leave me even after the plane took off, I went to wash up. My assistant had theories about my condition, where I dreamed of a past life, but it was all nonsense. I couldn't quite believe it was my psyche failing to adapt to my body's growing strength. The cold water ran pleasantly through my hair, and I looked in the mirror. It felt more like I was tormenting myself.
The first years of life were pretty tough, getting used to being a kid. You can't do what you want, can't even move around without parental supervision. Hell, you can't even eat what you want. A prison, honestly. Luckily, the urge for women hadn't kicked in yet. I wasn't sure that, with my strength—controlled as it was—I could have a relationship with a regular person. Breaking a girl in a fit of passion, or worse, killing her—that was somehow terrifying.
But looking in the mirror, you realize it's all real, not some fever dream. An eleven-year-old boy stared back at me. An ordinary kid's appearance, hiding the power to destroy this planet. An ordinary kid who'd soon head to school to study subjects that, to my mind, were like a mockery. Fortunately, no one stopped me from speeding to a bigger city and hauling back books on topics that interested me. Programming books made my classmates laugh for a long time—they thought I was pretending. How could anyone understand that gibberish full of letters instead of numbers? And the local bully, Billy, who tried to snatch and ruin my book when I wasn't looking, now suffers from not knowing how his pants got pulled down five times in front of the whole class. Shouldn't have touched my stuff, little jerk. But all that was just life's small fry compared to the problems I'd conjured up in my head.
Recharging from sunlight, which felt like a soft warmth on my skin, stopped doing anything for me. The strength in every aspect of my incredible body had grown tenfold, though it was impossible to measure anymore. A plane or a nuclear sub I'd found sunk in the ocean weighed the same to me—nothing, no strain on my body at all. Experiments showed that with tactile telekinesis, I could, in theory, envelop the whole planet and shift it off its axis. I hadn't gone that far yet, but the feeling of sensing the entire school at once and being able to rip it from its foundation was unforgettable. I still couldn't believe it, even though this power had been with me for about three years. But still… why and what for, I honestly didn't understand.
As usual, the news was buzzing about me. Yesterday, a liner nearly met tragedy, sinking, but by lifting it and carrying it to Spain's shores, I saved not just lives but a good chunk of money too. Sure, I was saving people, but money wasn't something to forget about either. People certainly don't.
Every day, social media flooded with offers from all sorts of folks—not all of them joking. Scrolling through feeds, you'd stumble on some millionaire tossing out a random price to meet me, and when asked why, they'd say they just wanted to meet Superman. The nickname—or superhero title—stuck, and now everyone on the planet knew there was a guy like me. Comic artists and others had sketched my face a dozen times over from eyewitness accounts, trying to cash in. In short, looking at the world, it was slowly calming down compared to the first year of my appearance, and now people paid me less attention.
Well, it is what it is, nothing to be done. I never stuck around anywhere long or talked to anyone enough for them to figure out who I was or where I came from. Interest in me didn't fade, and die-hard fans kept waiting for me to speak, but I didn't care. I wasn't doing this for fame. So my photofits ended up in military and other organizations' hands, just in case people needed to know what the alien looked like. Though sometimes I wondered why people assumed I was an alien when I'd never commented on it. But it'd become a sort of truth, and now a Kryptonian in my form zipped around the planet, saving whoever I could.
Theories, criticism, demands from governments of various countries… It was all so funny, if not for the idiots who decided to blackmail me. One bank heist turned into a circus where the robbers demanded I show up and get them out, or they'd kill everyone in the building—what a mess that was. Luckily, it was lunchtime, and I was heading home from school since the kids' programming class got canceled that day—the teacher was sick. Lucky for those poor folks who just happened to be at the bank.
I don't know what those morons were hoping for, but I sped in, yanked them out of the building, and broke all their arms. So they'd learn not to mess with me. Oh, the uproar in the media and social networks after that. They tried to smear me, even cancel me, especially in countries under heavy U.S. influence. I just ignored it. It was always amusing to see that, especially about a figure who couldn't care less about public opinion. They yelled—and forgot.
For another month after that, different countries kept trying to pull the same stunts. Some demanded I rescue them, others that I turn myself in to local authorities (probably government ops), and some just went nuts, killing everyone in captured places to show how bad I was. I just waved it off and washed my hands of it. They'd sort it out themselves. I wasn't a hero, even if they'd dubbed me Superman—I wasn't him. I didn't care about human lives on a grand scale, except when it came to natural or man-made disasters. I wasn't hired to rescue cats from trees or catch jewelry store robbers. Provocation stunts stopped yielding results for anyone, and things calmed down. I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Seeing people die because of you is tough, but taking on everyone's burden would've been reckless. Tactical ignoring was the right call here.
Finishing breakfast, I shouted to Tori, who was washing dishes, that I was leaving. She didn't seem to hear, but whatever. The bus was already there, and another school day awaited me. Luckily, I had things that interested me to stave off boredom. Soon I'd finish writing a program to finally reprogram my assistant, giving me an invaluable tool. A limited but personal artificial intelligence in my hands. Just perfect.
---
Sitting atop the Tokyo Skytree, I watched the people below scurrying like ants, living their lives. My vision let me see every detail, every hair on their bodies. Looking at the filth visible through walls—sometimes below, sometimes above—I pondered my path.
Yesterday was my twelfth birthday, and the family celebration was, as usual, fine overall. Lacking such experiences in my past life, I couldn't imagine anything else. At the diner for my birthday, Uncle Noah and Aunt Meryl gave me a hunting rifle—a good, pricey weapon, a solid gift. Kyle wouldn't let them hand it over to me right then, saying kids shouldn't play with guns, and I just shrugged and kept eating my cake. They promised to take me hunting and give it to me then, but I brushed it off—I didn't like hunting animals. Alas, my opinion didn't matter; they just stated it as fact. Every man needs to go hunting at least once in his life, Kyle said, backed by Noah. I shook my head and stayed quiet. Hunting animals—what a pointless thing.
The celebration ended on a positive note, and we all went home together. The adults—all the relatives—decided to keep the party going with booze, while I went to bed. At least, that's what I told those idiots Kyle and Noah, who tried to get me to taste beer without even noticing I'd slipped away. In reality, I flew off to Japan.
I'd only visited the country once before, when I'd earned enough for an expensive trip, and I'd liked Tokyo. But maybe it was because it was 2018 now and things weren't as great as they'd seemed back then, or maybe this world's Tokyo was different. Sitting atop the tower, all that filth was, frankly, disgusting to me.
Here's an older man harassing two schoolgirls on their way to school, there's a group of drunks in suits stumbling out of a bar, belting out songs. Somewhere in a basement, a guy who was alive twenty minutes ago is being carved up for organs, and in some lavish office, a minister's selling a batch of drugs. In a word—vile.
Sighing, I stood and flew home. A night spent here showed me that having the power to see all the world's filth wasn't a blessing. If my powers had gone to a righteous person, they'd have cleaned up this world, but I didn't care. Human troubles weren't my burden—they belonged to humans themselves. I was only concerned with my own life and showing that disasters could be reversed, which is what made me a hero. Having lost my life in a man-made disaster due to some people's negligence, I wanted to prove it could be avoided. And turning back mid-flight from Japan to stop a nuclear plant disaster caused by an earthquake felt like a sign. I was doing things right for myself, and that's what mattered.
---
- Saved the day in Japan again. He… - Turning off the TV, Kyle trudged into the kitchen and plopped heavily into his seat. He clutched his head, suffering from a hangover. Judging by his state, in ten years he'd be an old man from this lifestyle, but by then I'd be long gone from here. Probably.
- Pa, want me to grab you some pills? - I asked, trying to at least fake some concern.
- Don't yell, Brandon. - He winced and gulped some water. - Tomorrow we're going hunting with you and your Uncle Noah. So get ready—tomorrow you'll become a real man. For now, get to school.
Waving me off, he kept staring at his glass of water while Tori washed up upstairs. Shrugging, I left the house and headed for the bus.
Squeezing through and gently pushing aside the kids, who were growing fast, I took my spot at the back of the bus. Usually, I sat alone here, so it was a surprise to see Caitlin, my classmate, in my seat. The local "I'm the queen of this class" type, and so on. The kids' hierarchy, forming since the first days of middle school, didn't interest me, and keeping things level with everyone wasn't hard. No one picked on me, but they didn't avoid me either. I was just a background extra compared to the class's big shots. And Caitlin sitting where I usually did on the first day of middle school meant one thing: she wasn't into playing boss and servant, and that meant something.
- What, fought with your friends? - I sat next to her near the aisle while she stared out the window at the passing fields, pulling out my sketchbook.
- Sort of. - She replied quietly, lost in thought. We rode in silence as I started drawing another sketch, one that'd probably just end up cluttering my room. Five minutes later, she snapped out of her thoughts and glanced at what I was doing. - What're you drawing?
- Tokyo. A city in Japan. - I answered, making the initial strokes of what I'd seen. Another pointless but fun hobby. My body's coordination and perfect memory let me transfer what I saw onto paper frame by frame, and the slow pencil strokes turned it into a kind of meditation. As a sniper in the army, I had the patience, and this pace didn't bother me compared to my real speed.
- That's an Asian country, right? - She asked, intrigued, watching me start on the buildings.
- Yup.
- Why're you drawing it? - A fair kid's question, since Americans usually don't care much about other countries beyond their own turf.
- Just saw it on the news and thought it was interesting.
- Oh, the morning news? I saw it too—what a shock, huh? Can't believe someone like Superman exists. Imagine all that power. Gives me chills. Oh, did you know that in China…
Chatting about random facts, we got to school and kept talking about all sorts of things. Words poured out of her like a machine gun, and if it weren't for my abilities, I'd never have caught it all. The little sneak even tested me, occasionally asking about something she'd said five minutes earlier. Turns out she was curious and read a lot for her age. I'd thought she was just a typical girl into kid stuff and friends, but she was pretty sharp for her age. She wanted to be a journalist someday, which reminded me of something, though I brushed it off. I barely stifled a yawn from boredom talking to a kid. Kids are kids, and the fact that pandas need to be flipped over because they can't do it themselves was funny—from a kid's perspective, of course. I just nodded seriously at her questions and tossed in my own when there was a pause. Very lively girl. And she wouldn't let me go, trailing me like a shadow.
Finishing the day with my new "friend," as she called herself, I left school and headed to the computer club in another building. Caitlin wanted to tag along, since I'd caught her interest as a good listener with some brains, but next time—she'd have to sign up for the club in advance. Alas, my plans for world domination via Blender tutorials weren't meant to be. A faceless voice, usually only heard in the barn's cellar, spoke words that made me freeze in my tracks. My hearing was always tuned to catch that metal clank, though it mostly stayed silent—but what if? Better safe than sorry. And it paid off.
- Attention, scout detected. Attention, scout detected. Soldier, recommendation for immediate target elimination. Attention, scout detec…
Quickly, but at a normal human pace, I darted to the bathroom, locked myself in a stall, turned invisible, and sped off so fast I vanished from cameras and human eyes. Then I raced to the barn.
The key I always swiped from Pa was in my hands again. Unlocking the chains, I put the key back and descended, standing before the ship. The red light that had guided me early on hadn't lit up in ages.
- Where? - I asked, cutting off the assistant to get the info.
- Approaching from the far side of the Sun is an enemy scout that destroyed the Empire. Soldier, recommendation for immediate elimina… - Not waiting for the end, I shot out of the barn, careful not to smash everything. No time to listen to the same old record.
I broke through the clouds, atmosphere, and Earth's orbit. The speed was insane. I wore regular clothes, shielded by my telekinesis and as tough as my body while they stayed on me—otherwise, I'd have lost a ton of stuff by now, and I wouldn't get a pat on the head for that. Flying in the planet's atmosphere usually affected the surroundings, so I held back to avoid accidentally hurting anyone just by passing by. Even buildings weren't sturdy enough to handle my full flight power.
In space, that wasn't an issue—I could let loose. Flying in my usual pose, arms pointing the way, I headed toward the Sun. This wasn't my first or second flight, but I usually didn't stray this far from Earth, afraid of getting lost.
Turns out, I wasn't imagining it—I never forgot the way. It started just a year ago, but now I knew it was one of my traits. I could always navigate and know exactly where I was at any moment. I understood where and how to move, like I had some extrasensory gift. Even with my eyes closed, flying in a random direction, I always knew where I'd come from and how far I'd gone. It was like a GPS in my head guiding me. Maybe it was like how birds sense the planet's magnetic fields to know when to migrate. Flying farther from Earth, I felt I could find my way home even across billions of light-years. That calmed me.
My speed was so great that in a few minutes, I was near the Sun. Five or six minutes, and I was by the star. Scanning our sun, I felt nothing from being so close to this giant ball of fire, so I sped on. I'd thought I'd feel some boost or damage, but nothing. The Sun in our system had given me all it could—any further growth would come from diving deeper into space. Flying past and around it, I positioned myself where Earth's satellites and probes couldn't spot the threat. From this angle, ground observation saw nothing. The enemy choosing this path meant their intentions weren't peaceful. How the assistant missed this target until it was near the Sun was a good question. And the target was obvious—I'd say, like a cow in an anthill.
A massive orb, like writhing living flesh. A grotesque, constantly shifting black creation, hurtling toward the Sun behind me. My vision showed it was a planet the size of our Moon, alive, but for the first time, I couldn't see inside. Something blocked my sight, which usually pierced everything. It twisted, rearranging massive bodies within itself every second. By my estimate, it'd reach me in a minute. But I didn't come here to wait.
The strain in my eyes, stretching into infinity, paid off with the strongest attack in my arsenal. No Earth weapon or anything on the planet matched it. My eyes glowed red, and my heat vision consumed everything ahead. A beam of temperatures so high it could melt anything struck the living planetoid dead center.
Strike first—that's my creed. Time to find out who this enemy was, capable of destroying an empire of beings like me.