DeathstrokeSW — Roleplayer Guild

The city shined in post-dawn morning light, early risers and work commuters walked the streets, some with purpose, others with lizard like lassitude. Husbands kissed wives goodbye, and sons waved mothers farewell. Buses chauffeured their fares, and taxis strode the roads with an obnoxious overconfidence. All of this was carried out with the normal humdrum of life; children rushed to school, adults to work.

From atop his perch on the Globe of the Daily Planet, Ultraman saw all of this, but it is not what he was looking for. He searched the city for a suitable way to make his mark, to make his presence known, to force these humans to feel his presence. Ultraman cracked his neck, and as he did so, the words of his father drifted into his head.

"Be strong, my son. Only the strong survive"

It had been years since his father had sent him to earth, a son saved by a pragmatic father. Jor-Il had not sent him here out of love, however. Jor-Il had done so to ensure that the House of Il did not die with Krypton. He had accepted that, even respected it. To him, it was merely survival of the fittest at work, natural selection preserving its deadliest predator.

Tim wiped the thoughts from his head, refocusing on the task at hand. He thought about his powers, and the names the media had given them. Heat vision, freeze breath; it seemed as if the news felt a need to name everything, to put monikers on their champions-and their nightmares.

Ultraman chuckled, a deep, rumbling bass muted against the wind. Nightmares. To the people, these so-called "Supervillains" seemed as if to terrorize the weak, the innocent, the helpless. To him, it was nature at its most basic: the strong root out the weak and predators hunt for prey.

HIS prey was gleaming overhead, its shining green neon L. towering over the other buildings as if it was lording its superiority over the city. One final crack of his knuckles and he fell. The speed of the fall heightened the adrenaline rush he felt, and a few meters before he met the ground, supersonic flight was engaged. He shattered all of the nearby windows in his path, his sheer speed staggering.

Meanwhile, Lex Luthor sat in his office, sipping a glass of whiskey whilst filling out paperwork. It was a banal part of running a successful business, but given the day he'd had, it was a welcome respite. Lex had sent Mercy, his driver-cum-bodyguard to the hall, so when his computer beeped a warning of hypersonic object on a trajectory of interception with his office, regret creeped into the back of his skull. The blur was beginning to take shape, a red-blue blur rocketing towards him. "Oh. It's Superm-" he blurted.

As Ultraman scythed through the reinforced window, bending steel and splintering wood, he smashed into a human, sending him back first. Lex slammed into the far wall, crying out in pain. Of course, the impact didn't kill him; it wasn't meant to. Luthor wasn't his prey. His building and its weapons were.

Lex rose, a sliver of blood trickling down from his forehead. His eyes widened as he saw the Kryptonian floating towards him, arms crossed. He was clearly tall, with black hair and eyes full of heat vision barely contained.

"Superman?" He said in a confused tone. The floating Kryptonian ignored him, and went into the hall. Lex scrambled to the remains of his desk, and hit the emergency button, summoning three Mark I Lexbots. The battle was about to begin.

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