[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/cWkm5Pb/superman-returns-wallpaper-preview.jpg[/img][/center] [color=Yellow][i]“This is all your fault, Superman,”[/i][/color] Neutron snarls as his fists glow and pulse with auras of radioactive plasma. Our fight has sprawled through most of the New Troy district, skimming along the rooftops of the Fashion District and crashing through some of the skyscrapers of Midtown, before crashing down into the green of Heroes’ Park. Pulling myself up from the crater where I’d landed, I look around and see craters in the grass, cracks in the fountains and monuments, and hundreds of panicked people fleeing in all directions. Emergency services have been trying to evacuate people since Tryon arrived, but it’s next to impossible to clear an entire city even under the best of circumstances, and even worse when there’s no telling where the battle will go next. The best most can hope for is to make it to one of the hundreds of LexCorp emergency shelters that have been installed across Metropolis, but those tend to fill up quickly. I’m doing the best I can to keep our fight away from populated areas, to limit the amount of damage we’re doing, to break away and get as many people out of harm’s way as I can. Neutron, on the other hand, isn’t doing any of that. If anything, he’s been going out of his way to do as much damage as possible. [color=Yellow][i]“Look around you!”[/i][/color] he growls. [color=Yellow][i]“The monuments here? They’re all in memory of the people we lost fighting the Reach…people who would still be alive today if [u]you[/u] hadn’t been in hiding for so long!”[/i][/color] As much as I hate to admit it, he’s not wrong–at least, not completely. For the five years the Reach had colonized Earth, I was locked away in the Fortress, shut off completely from the outside world. Kelex, the intelligence sent by my Kryptonian mother and father, had been training me to master my powers, only telling me about the occupation of Earth once it had deemed I was ready. When I asked why it had kept me in the dark for so long, Kelex said that I wasn’t ready to face the Reach until then, that they would have found a way to kill me, or worse, weaponize me against humanity. I still don’t know if I believe him: whether or not it was true, the fact was people were suffering, and I wasn’t there for them. I haven’t been back to the Fortress since. Neutron hurls a blast of plasma towards a crowd of panicked onlookers, and I throw myself in front of them. [color=RoyalBlue]“Get down–[i]ngggh!!![/i]”[/color] I shout as Neutron’s blast explodes against my back, and a wave of nausea rolls over me. The radiation from his plasma doesn’t affect me nearly as bad as Kryptonite would, but each one drains away at me just that much more. [color=Yellow][i]“All those lives lost, all that blood on your hands,”[/i][/color] he continues as he pelts me with more blasts. [color=Yellow][i]“And they were the lucky ones. They weren’t the ones turned into freaks and monsters by the Reach’s Meta-Bomb! A bomb that [u]you[/u] allowed to go off! Where were you, Superman? [u]Where were you???”[/u][/i][/color] Kansas. I was in Kansas. In the ruins of what used to be the town I called home. Looking in vain for any hope that my parents had survived the destruction the reach had brought down on Smallville. Neutron raises his hands, charging a blast he hopes will put me down for the count. [color=Yellow][i]“Everything that’s happened in the last five years,”[/i][/color] he says, [color=Yellow][i]“The metahumans, the Agency, everything that’s gone wrong, it’s [u]all your fault!”[/u][/i][/color] [hr] [color=Orange]“Oh man,”[/color] Jimmy Olsen muttered as he frantically tapped on his L-Phone, [color=Orange]“Big Blue’s taking a beating out there.”[/color] To any passing observer, Jimmy might have appeared to be just another onlooker, glued to their screens as danger and disaster came down around their ears. In truth, he was using the immense computing power of his jail-broken LexCorp smartphone to coordinate a citywide network of small camera drones, something that had taken him several years and a sizable chunk of his massive inheritance to put together. Equipped with motion sensors to automatically activate when anything above the speed of sound approached them, these cameras gave Jimmy the ability to get the best possible angle on the action in a split-second and stream it live. Most of the world saw Superman’s actions through the carefully curated view of corporate-owned news outlets like the Galaxy News Network. Those who were in the know, however, knew the only reliable way to get the facts was to get them live, raw, and unfiltered, thanks in most part to the [i]Daily Planet.[/i] Once a respected newspaper with a staff of hundreds, the [i]Planet[/i] was now an independent news blog with a small team, an even smaller office, a mountain of active civil suits against them, and the most trusted reporting on Earth. Half of the [i]Planet’s[/i] reputation came from Jimmy Olsen’s unparalleled ability to put eyes on any story in Metropolis the moment it happened. The other half of the equation, however, was standing with her arms crossed as she watched the clouds of smoke and dust rise over the Metropolis skyline. [color=Violet]“Thanks for the tip,”[/color] Lois said into her own phone–an ancient flip-phone that might as well have been a walkie-talkie, before hanging up and pulling out a spiral notebook to jot down notes in shorthand. [color=Violet]“Something’s wrong about this whole thing.”[/color] [color=Orange]“I know,”[/color] Jimmy nodded, [color=Orange]“Superman was close to putting Neutron down just a minute ago, and suddenly he’s taking a beating like I’ve never seen before! What changed?”[/color] [color=Violet]“Neutron stopped aiming for Superman,”[/color] Lois said, [color=Violet]“and started aiming for people on the ground.”[/color] [color=Orange]“Right, because he’s a lunatic,”[/color] said Jimmy, thinking he was agreeing. [color=Violet]“No,”[/color] Lois corrected him, [color=Violet]“He can’t hit Superman, unless he aims somewhere that he knows Superman will have to go. Blue has to put himself in harm’s way, so Neutron can hit him again and again. It’s sick, sure, but it’s also a smart change of tactics. And that’s what’s wrong…”[/color] [color=Orange]“The fact that Neutron is smart?”[/color] asked Jimmy. [color=Violet]“The fact that he [i]isn’t[/i],”[/color] Lois answered. [color=Violet]“That was my contact with the MPD on the phone. Nathaniel Tryon’s got a pretty long rep sheet from before he became a metahuman. Armed robbery, aggravated assault, possession of illegal weapons– all things that peg him as just another low-rent thug. Same thing with his school records: low test scores as a kid, dropped out at 8th grade. Nothing in any of his records shows that he’s any kind of strategic thinker, and definitely not the type of guy to make big monologues.”[/color] Jimmy nodded, starting to reach the same conclusion as Lois. [color=Orange]“You think he’s getting orders from someone?”[/color] [color=Violet]“I’m not putting anything on the record without proof,”[/color] she said as she headed towards the [i]Planet’s[/i] office, [color=Violet]“but [i]off[/i] the record? This has a very familiar stink to it...”[/color] [hr] [color=Yellow][i]“...just like you to make a mess,”[/i][/color] said Neutron on the screen, as he dragged Superman face-first through the steel I-beams and reinforced concrete of a construction site… [color=MediumPurple]“...and then fly off without cleaning up after yourself!”[/color] said Winslow Schott, the pudgy balding man in his couch, a VR headset feeding him live information while his hands worked with controls resembling those of a marionette. [color=Yellow][i]“...and then fly off without cleaning up after yourself!”[/i][/color] Neutron repeated as he grabbed the blue-suited hero by the cape and flung him skyward. [color=RosyBrown]“God, you’re such a ham,”[/color] Eve Tessmacher scoffed, idly playing with her hair and snapping another selfie standing in front of the video-wall. Behind her, dozens of monitors displayed different angles of the battle, the live feed from various news outlets, the chatter on social media, and the scripts for the millions of chat-bots that were currently steering the direction of the discourse. [color=Peru]“I, ah, I really have to insist that you stop taking pictures in a restricted area, Miss Tessmacher,”[/color] stammered Gus Gorman his fingers flying as he coordinated Schott’s control inputs with the systems and power distribution of Neutron’s containment suit. [color=Peru]“It’s, ahhh, it’s d-d-distracting, first of all, and that’s n-not even accounting for the, ah, the significant risk of a security leak that poses…”[/color] [color=RosyBrown]“‘Poses?’”[/color] she asked innocently. [color=RosyBrown]“But I wasn’t even striking a pose! Ooh, what about [i]this[/i] one!”[/color] [color=MediumPurple]“All this destruction, all this suffering…”[/color] Schott continued his monologue. [color=Yellow][i]“All this destruction…all this suffering….”[/i][/color] Neutron repeated him. [color=MediumPurple]“....is all your fault!!!”[/color] Schott reached a crescendo, flailing his puppeteer controls dramatically. [color=Yellow][i]“...is ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!!!”[/i][/color] Neutron screamed, his voice full of rage as he let loose with a blast straight into the air, directly at Superman, with enough power to vaporize a city block. [color=Peru]“He’s reaching critical mass, Winslow!”[/color] Gus warned. [color=Peru]“If you p-push him any further, he’ll, ah, he’ll…”[/color] [color=RosyBrown]“Go nuclear?”[/color] Miss Tessmacher finished his sentence. [color=RosyBrown]“But isn’t that the whole point?”[/color] [color=MediumPurple]“Heeeeheeheeheeheeheehohohohohahaha-haaa!”[/color] Schott laughed triumphantly. [color=MediumPurple]“I think we got him!!!”[/color] As the blinding light on the monitor faded, Miss Tessmacher cleared her throat. [color=RosyBrown]“Think again,”[/color] she said, pointing at a speck on the screen. [color=RosyBrown]“See? Look, up in the–”[/color] [color=BlanchedAlmond]“Time’s up, kids,”[/color] interrupted Mercy Graves as she strode into the room, her poise and presence making the trio in the control room feel woefully immature in comparison. [color=BlanchedAlmond]“We have all the data and all of the footage we need. The order from the top is to pull the plug.”[/color] [color=MediumPurple]“B-b-but, but I was winning!”[/color] Schott blubbered. [color=MediumPurple]“Just a little longer, and I was going to–”[/color] Mercy glared at him. [color=BlanchedAlmond]“Would you like me to take that complaint upstairs?”[/color] Schott was silent for a moment, then deflated in his couch. [color=MediumPurple]“...no ma’am.”[/color] [color=BlanchedAlmond]“Good,”[/color] Mercy nodded. [color=BlanchedAlmond]“Schott, turn off the manual controls and activate the automated finale subroutine. Gorman, cut the signal, and activate the self-destruct on the suit’s receivers. We don’t want anything that can trace Neutron back here.”[/color] [color=Peru]“Y-yes, ma’am,”[/color] Gus said, frantically typing signals into the control transmitters. [color=BlanchedAlmond]“And Eve?”[/color] Mercy looked at Miss Tessmacher with a contemptuous glance. [color=BlanchedAlmond]“Just keep doing what you’re good at: nothing.”[/color] Mercy strode out of the room, and the three let out a collective breath. [color=Peru]“That woman scares me,”[/color] Gus whimpered. [color=RosyBrown]“Yeah, but maybe, like, in a hot way?”[/color] Eve remarked absently. [color=Peru]“What?”[/color] [color=MediumPurple]“What?”[/color] [color=RosyBrown]“What?”[/color] [hr] Brainiac thinks. One hundred quadrillion times per second, Brainiac thinks. Brainiac receives the shutdown order of manual controls from Winslow Schott, the self-destruct orders for the suit’s receivers, and the activation of Neutron’s automated subroutines, and transmits them all through itself into the armored containment suit. Brainiac monitors all of Nathaniel Tryon’s vital signs, as well as the stress and damage indicators inside the suit, and makes its decisions. Brainiac receives a command input from the top of LexCorp Tower. Brainiac redirects paramedics to an apartment complex where a young woman named Leslie Willis has been seriously injured. Brainiac alters every traffic light along five city blocks to give the paramedics the optimal path to Willis, and from there to the nearest emergency medical facility. Brainiac rewrites all public records of Nathaniel Tryon to suggest severe post-traumatic stress and suicidal tendencies after his transformation into a metahuman. Brainiac prepares the self-destruct sequence on Nathaniel Tryon’s containment suit. Brainiac will kill every living thing on Earth in six months, twelve days, eight hours, fourteen minutes, and 36.55486 seconds. Brainiac does not know the sequence of events that will cause this. Brainiac has nonetheless calculated that it is inevitable. Brainiac thinks. [hr] [color=RoyalBlue]“Maybe you’re right,”[/color] I say, clenching my teeth and clutching my sides as my body is racked with pain from Neutron’s blast. [color=RoyalBlue]“Maybe I could’ve done better. Maybe I could have saved more people. Maybe….maybe what happened to you is my fault…”[/color] Neutron raises his hands again, preparing another blast. [color=RoyalBlue]“...but it it really is my fault…”[/color] I say, raising my fists, [color=RoyalBlue]“...then it means stopping you is my responsibility!”[/color] Before he can let loose again, I tap into my power reserves, the fusion batteries that power every cell in my body, the trillions of microscopic stars that give me my strength, and I enter what I like to call my ‘Flare State.’ If I do this, I’ll be powerless afterwards, an hour weakened and vulnerable for every second I spend in this state. If I [i]don’t[/i] do it, though, more people will be hurt. And a choice like that, isn’t a choice at all. With speed far beyond my normal limit, I hurl myself at Neutron, tackling him by the waist, and pulling him up into the sky, far beyond the airspace of Metropolis, higher and higher into the stratosphere. [color=RoyalBlue]“The air up here is going to keep getting thinner,”[/color] I warn him, [color=RoyalBlue]“Until you can’t breathe and lose consciousness. Last chance to stand down.”[/color] [color=Yellow][i]“....S-s-Superman…”[/i][/color] Tryon’s voice comes weakly, as sickly light begins to seep out of his suit. [color=Yellow][i]“....hhhhhelp…..mmmmmeeeee….”[/i][/color] [color=RoyalBlue]“Wha-?”[/color] is all I manage before Tryon’s suit bursts open, and the entire world becomes blinding light, deafening sound, and excruciating pain.