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Steel - Part 1.01 - Shout
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The hammer struck hot metal again and again, each blow ringing out through the cramped workshop like a war drum. Sparks skittered across the concrete floor, dying in brief orange flashes as the burly, masked figure raised and lowered his tool with the precision of Hephaestus himself.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Beside him, an old CRT television flickered on a workbench cluttered with schematics, half-finished components, and cooling rods. Static buzzed, then gave way to one news anchor after another, cycling through every available station in an endless hunt for some sliver of clarity about the state of the world.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The hammer struck the metal, ringing out like a warning bell.
"The attack on New York has left the city reeling." One anchor reported, her voice tinny through the battered speakers. "A city once again rebuilding itself after a tragedy it has become heartbreakingly familiar with."
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
A heavier blow. Sparks jumped in furious arcs.
Another reporter replaced the first:
"In local news, Detective John Jones of the NYPD solved a disturbing homicide in the early hours this morning. The victim, William Davis, was thought to be killed during a botched burglary, but Jones uncovered evidence pointing to the victim's own wife. A young girl, hidden inside a locked chest, was rescued unharmed thanks to the detective’s quick action."
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
John's grip tightened around the hammer. The metal whined under the force of the strike.
"Staten Island police are investigating a massacre inside a suspected Costa family safehouse. Dozens are confirmed dead. Eyewitness reports point to the so-called 'Punisher' as the lone assailant. The Punisher himself was reported wounded but escaped before officers arrived."
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The strike rang out sharper this time, the metal protesting under the masked man's grip.
On the TV, a Gotham news anchor spoke over grainy footage of rain-slick streets:
"GCPD officials remain tight-lipped tonight following the death of Niccolai 'The Mad Monk' Tepes, a cult leader who believed himself descended from Dracula. Police sources say the Batman intervened during a violent confrontation outside the ruins of the Gold Estate. The suspect was killed with a wooden stake. Authorities refuse to confirm whether Gotham’s vigilante is escalating his tactics."
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
"In Genosha, an uneasy calm follows days of mass protests and clashes with state authorities. President David Moreau has fled the country. In a shocking turn, Magneto - long believed dead - has assumed leadership as interim president. Crowds today demanded answers regarding reconstruction efforts, government accountability, and police violence. International observers remain uncertain whether this new government marks liberation… or the start of something far more dangerous."
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The hammer came down with enough force to rattle the tools on the bench.
A Metropolis broadcast cut in showing shaky phone footage of lightning splitting the sky:
"Metropolis was rocked today by a battle between the hero 'Thor' and a hostile armored assailant identifying himself as the Toyman. Property destruction spans several blocks. Witnesses report the hero was pushed to his limits as the armor displayed overwhelming strength. The fight escalated after a civilian animal was nearly killed in the crossfire, with Thor calling down lightning in what appears to be an attempt to neutralize the target."
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The metal shuddered beneath the violence of the strike.
"-reports coming in from a Mammoth City petrol station. Witnesses claim two unidentified individuals were attacked by what they described as 'demonic creatures.' Authorities have not commented on the validity of these statements."
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
"In Manhattan, billionaire executive Emma Frost has announced an upcoming initiative to support reconstruction efforts following the recent New York disaster. No details yet on the event teased during today’s press release."
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The next strike hit like a gunshot.
"-Boston police have cordoned off a vehicle chop shop after what they’re calling an 'incident of extreme violence.' Officers described the scene as a 'catalogue of brutality' and could not explain the presence of a mysterious ash."
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Sparks jumped across the floor like wildfire.
"Community members praise the hero responsible for rescuing an elderly man from a burning building, but officials warn the situation remains volatile as more superpowered individuals appear across the boroughs."
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The hammer struck, sparks scattering across the concrete.
"-the President unveiled a new national defense asset today, introducing the world to a government-backed super-operative known as Warbird. Officials claim she single-handedly repelled an alien strike force detected earlier this afternoon."
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The hammer slammed down, the metal tolling like a bell.
"-in Gotham, residents of the Old Gotham district report sightings of a mysterious 'scarlet figure' intervening in street crimes. Witnesses describe a red-cloaked woman appearing moments before and after several disturbances. Authorities have issued no statement regarding her identity or involvement-"
The TV exploded in a shower of sparks as the blacksmith's hammer punched through the screen, sending the whole unit tumbling off the bench and crashing to the ground in a burst of shattered glass and static. The masked figure staggered forward with it, one hand gripping the workbench to keep himself upright as ragged breaths tore through his chest. Sweat rolled down his arms and dripped to the concrete in drops.
For a moment, there was nothing. No reporters, no static, no sparks. Just silence. Deafening silence that begged him for an answer inbetween heavy pants.
His fist slammed down on the bench, a blunt, furious impact that rattled loose bolts and drove a sharp tremor through the tools scattered across its surface. The welder's mask came off in one violent motion, ripped from his head and hurled aside. It skidded across the floor, spinning once before clattering to a stop at the edge of the workshop's shadows.
What had the world become? For every would-be hero stepping out of a comic book, five more crawled from the shadows to tear the world apart. Gods walked among mortals now. Beings who could level a street, a city, a life with the careless ease of swatting a fly. What chance did the normal working man have in a world where an alien could fall out of the sky and erase everything he'd ever built?
There wasn't a place for men like him anymore.
Not yet.
John straightened slowly, the tremor in his arms settling as his rage subsided to make way for a far deeper feeling. If the world wouldn't make room for people like him then he'd carve out that place himself.
He wiped his hands on the front of his work apron, leaving dark streaks of soot and sweat, and turned toward the shadowed corner of the workshop. The far wall was covered with a heavy tarp, bolted down and draped like a shroud over some impossible shape. John reached for the chain hanging beside it, heaving with one might pull. The tarp groaned upward on its pulley system and raised into the air.
Piece by piece, the armor emerged: plates of alloy forged from sleepless nights and guilt and genius. The helmet caught the dim workshop light last, its silent face staring back at him with the promise of something more. A protector by design, not destiny.
John Henry Irons exhaled, wiping his forehead with his arm. Then, for the first time he raised the helmet and stared into its black eyes. It was complete, everything he had worked for was now ready.
He slipped on the gauntlet, the polished alloy sealing around his forearm with a mechanical hiss. It molded to his form, becoming like a metal second-skin. John lifted his arm behind him an arc, pointing it back towards the workbench.
The kinetic hammer tore free from its stand, cutting through the air with a sharp metallic whine before slamming into his palm with the force of a closing vault door. Steel meeting steel with a mighty noise that echoed throughout the dark room.
The lights overhead flickered as the workshop adjusted to the surge of power now coursing through the gauntlet’s systems. Blue indicator lights blinked online across the armor pieces still suspended on their rig. Piece by piece, he began suiting up.
Finally, the armor stood complete around him. His man-made creation built to defend him against the gods. He was Talos made human. Protecting his Crete from invaders.
The sun caught his armor and reflected it back out towards the city. Steel stood atop the roof like a futuristic knight, hammer resting against his shoulder as he took in the city below. Metropolis moved with its usual rhythm: traffic crawling, crowds swelling, the hum of daily life carrying on unbothered. But to John Henry Irons, this wasn't just a city. It was where he grew up. Where his family lived and died. Where he'd built things he wished he could forget - and where he intended to build something better.
The high frequency hearing equipment within his helmet picked up on a chorus of screams rose from five blocks down, followed by the sharp, unmistakable crack of gunfire. Steel's head snapped toward the sound and his vision isolated and locked on to the source of the sound, circling and zooming closer and closer. Smoke curled up from the front steps of a downtown bank, and traffic skidded to a halt as a group of armed men burst through the shattered glass doors, firearms drawn and bags slung over their shoulders.
"Bank robbery!" Steel muttered. "No better place to start than the classics."
He stepped off of the roof.
Gravity caught him for only a moment before the thrusters roared to life, carrying him down in a controlled plunge as he dived towards the source of the smoke. He landed in the street with a thunderous impact that rattled the hood of a nearby taxi. Civilians dove behind cars and storefronts as the armed men turned, at first confused and then terrified by the sight of a steel giant blocking their escape.
The getaway van screeched around the corner, its driver yelling for the crew to hurry. One robber panicked and opened fire, bullets pinging harmlessly off Steel's chestplate. Instinctively he flinched, and then regained his composure after barely feeling the impact of their pistols.
"You're wasting ammunition." he said, his voice amplified over the chaos, yet calm. "Put the guns down"
The shooter cursed and emptied the rest of the magazine. Steel stepped forward steadily, raised his hammer, and with one controlled swing slapped the pistol out of his hand, it slammed into the wall and shattered into a dozen pieces. His hand shot out and gripped the barrel of another criminals pistol before bending it upwards.
The now unarmed men fell. A third bolted for the van. Steel reacted quickly, the jet boosters in his boots amplifying his sprint. He didn't move with agility, but it never affected his speed. He was more like a linebacker charging across a field.
He intercepted the runner, catching him by the back of his jacket and lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The man kicked wildly, swearing, but Steel simply set him down against a parked car and removed the rifle from his hands.
"C'mon man, don't do anything stupid." he said.
Another robber tried accelerating past him in the van only to find the rear half lifted clean off the ground as Steel walked behind it, gauntlets clamped around the bumper. The wheels spun uselessly in mid-air.
Inside the van, the driver's expression went from triumph to disbelief. Steel grunted, tearing the back door off and sending it flying against the wall of the bank. The driver looked back over his shoulder in terror as Steel shouted "Out!
The doors opened slowly and the driver exited with his hands in the air, tripping slightly as he stepped out onto the concrete. Another robber tried to slip out the passenger side and run. Steel reached out one armored arm and snagged him by the back of the hoodie like he weighed nothing.
Sirens were closing in now, the boys in blue here to clean up the mess these knuckleheads had made.
However, the excitement wasn't over yet. A second car swerved around the corner too fast, trying to avoid the police blockade. Tires screeched and the car tipped sideways, smashed into a fire hydrant, and flipped, tumbling end over end straight toward a cluster of people frozen on the sidewalk.
Steel's body moved faster than his brain - and his suit moved even faster. Thrusters flared as he launched himself forward, slamming into the tumbling sedan with both hands. The force shoved him backward a few feet, boots gouging trenches in the asphalt, but he managed to hold it. The car's momentum fought against him, groaning metal protesting against his strength.
He could feel himself sliding backwards, back towards the crowd behind him cowering in fear. He had to act fast. John locked his feet, squared his shoulders and with all his might lifted.
The sedan rose above his head in a clean arc, balanced with surprising gentleness despite its twisted frame. The wheels still spinning as he adjusted his grip and held the car up directly above him, both palms planted on its underside.
Gasps filled the street. A woman behind him quietly whispered "Oh my god" as the police arrived on the scene. Reporters began to snap pictures, the very first the world would see of the Man of Steel. John was glad it would be of him as a saviour, rather than a warrior.
He carried the car to the nearest empty stretch of pavement and set it down with deliberate care, checking quickly inside. The driver was bruised and shaken, but alive. Even despite the shock of coming eye to eye with the metal face peering in.
Police officers approached with wide, uncertain eyes. One opened his mouth to speak, but Steel gave a small nod and stepped away from the commotion under a sea of flashing lights and the clamouring crowd prodding him for any information at all.
He didn't say anything, he barely acknowledged them, shooting a glance up at the sky before looking back down at a small girl, obviously shaken by the days event and looking rather unsure of her huge metal saviour. She hid behind her fathers leg, clinging onto his trouser as if she'd float away otherwise.
Steel caught her eye and gave her a smile, shooting her a thumbs up and a wink before he turned, crouched slightly and shot off into the sky - his red cape billowing behind him as the crowd traced his movement, dashing in and out around buildings and through clouds.
High above the city, looking down at the people and cars like ants he allowed himself another smile. And for the first time in a long time, John Henry Irons felt like he was finally doing something that mattered.
