Metropolis, Wayne Bank.
Deadshot stood near the shattered entrance, his sharp eyes fixed on the heavy police presence outside. Sirens wailed in the distance, flashing lights painting the streets in restless red and blue. The tension in the air thickened with every passing second.
Then, without warning, a figure descended from the sky.
A thunderous impact shook the ground as he landed in front of the bank, dust and debris scattering outward. All eyes turned toward him.
Clark stepped forward, clad in the iconic Superman suit.
For a brief moment, everything seemed to pause.
Cameras shifted, reporters leaned forward, and the crowd outside erupted into chaos. Some cheered, voices filled with hope and admiration. Others shouted insults, anger spilling over into open hostility. A few even raised signs protesting both Superman and Homelander, their defiance clear as they hurled obscene gestures.
Clark ignored them all.
His expression remained calm, though a faint tension lingered in his eyes. Without hesitation, he walked straight into the bank.
"Superman?"
Deadshot reacted instantly, raising his weapon with practiced precision.
Black Spider and Killer Frost shifted closer, alert and ready. Only Harley Quinn seemed unfazed, still crouched beside a pile of stolen cash, happily counting stacks of dollars with a gleeful grin.
Though Superman had kept a low profile since the Metropolis incident, his reputation carried weight. He was the man who had killed General Zod. That alone made him dangerous enough to rival Homelander.
Clark stopped a few steps inside, his gaze steady.
"I'm here. If you want to talk, let the hostages go."
Harley suddenly popped up in front of him, eyes shining with excitement.
"So you're Superman? What does the 'S' stand for? Sadistic? Sadness? Stylish?"
Clark blinked, clearly caught off guard. He said nothing, instead shifting his attention toward Deadshot and Black Spider.
Deadshot gave a slight nod.
"Release them."
Black Spider moved quickly, unlocking doors and ushering the hostages out. One by one, they fled, fear written across their faces.
Clark watched them go, a quiet breath leaving him once the last civilian was out of harm's way.
"What do you want?" he asked again.
Deadshot lowered his weapon slightly.
"Our objective was never the money. It was you."
Clark frowned.
"We don't know each other."
"You don't know us," Deadshot replied, "but we know you. Everyone does."
Clark's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Who sent you?"
Deadshot shrugged.
"Someone above our pay grade."
"And this was the best way to get my attention?"
A faint smirk appeared on Deadshot's face.
"We're criminals. This is what we do."
Harley stepped in again, tilting her head.
"Quick question. What does flying feel like? Like your stomach drops? Like you're about to splatter on the ground?"
"No," Clark said flatly, clearly done entertaining her.
He turned back to Deadshot.
"What message are you delivering?"
"Someone wants to meet you," Deadshot said. "Not here."
Killer Frost pulled out her phone and made a call.
"Don't worry," Deadshot added. "If they meant you harm, we wouldn't be standing here talking."
Clark remained silent, though his eyes flicked briefly toward the police outside. He already had a strong suspicion about who was behind this.
Moments later, the sound of helicopter blades echoed from above.
Clark did not resist as he followed them to the roof and boarded.
The helicopter lifted off, cutting through the skyline and heading toward the outskirts of Metropolis. The city lights faded behind them, replaced by dark stretches of land.
Twenty minutes later, they landed at a military base.
Clark stepped out, his senses immediately sweeping the area. Something felt off.
Too quiet.
No soldiers. No staff. Nothing.
His frown deepened.
Inside, they entered a sterile, silver-white room that seemed prepared in advance. Deadshot and the others stood nearby as a large virtual screen flickered to life.
Several officials appeared, seated around a conference table.
"Superman," said a gray-haired man at the head, his tone measured. "We've been waiting for this meeting."
Clark crossed his arms slightly.
"I don't see the need for one."
"There is," the man replied calmly. "You operate within the United States. That makes you part of it."
Clark's gaze hardened.
"Clark Kent is. Superman is not."
A murmur spread among the officials.
"Then what are you?" one of them asked.
Clark met their eyes without hesitation.
"I stand for humanity. Not a single country."
A sharp scoff came from another official.
"That kind of thinking is exactly what causes instability. You were born here. That ties you to this nation, whether you like it or not."
Another voice joined in, more forceful.
"The people are afraid. After Metropolis, they demand accountability. If you simply stand with us, publicly, declare loyalty, everything changes. Fear disappears."
Clark remained silent.
He understood their fear, but their solution felt wrong.
"If you refuse," one of them pressed, "do you become our enemy?"
Before Clark could answer, a voice cut through the room.
"Or maybe the problem is that you think you have the authority to ask that."
Clark turned.
Adrian stepped in, dressed in black, his presence instantly shifting the atmosphere.
Deadshot barely had time to react.
Adrian moved like a flash of light.
A single strike sent Deadshot flying across the room.
Black Spider lunged forward, but Adrian caught him mid-motion, gripping his throat and slamming him into the ground with crushing force.
The impact echoed.
Killer Frost fired immediately, freezing gas surging toward him. Adrian raised a hand, stopping it effortlessly. His eyes flared, and a beam of heat vision sliced through her weapon, then struck her arm.
She screamed, stumbling back, blood dripping as she clutched the injury.
Harley raised her hands instantly.
"I surrender. Just not the face, okay?"
Adrian's fist answered her anyway.
She dropped to the ground, clutching her nose, tears forming.
Adrian turned toward the screen, his expression cold.
"You've got this backwards. You don't control me. You ask for my protection."
The officials stared, stunned.
"You're declaring war on the federal government," one of them said, voice tight with anger.
Adrian shook his head slightly.
"You still don't understand your place."
"You're the one who doesn't understand," another snapped.
Before the tension could escalate further, a strange sound broke the moment.
Black Spider staggered upright, clutching his head, his breathing ragged.
Harley blinked at him.
"You okay? You look worse than usual."
He didn't respond.
His head began to swell.
Deadshot's eyes widened.
"Move!"
He crashed through the window without hesitation.
Harley and Killer Frost followed instantly.
A split second later, the explosion came.
The nanobomb detonated, tearing through the room with devastating force. Fire engulfed everything, the blast ripping apart walls and ceiling alike.
The building collapsed into chaos.
Adrian stood unmoved within the flames.
Clark emerged beside him, equally unharmed, though his expression darkened.
Outside, the shockwave hurled Deadshot and the others across the ground. Killer Frost slammed into a wall, blood spilling from her mouth. Harley landed atop Deadshot, barely injured.
She glanced back at the burning ruins, her expression briefly somber.
"Well... there goes Black Spider."
Deadshot groaned beneath her.
"Get off."
She rolled away, brushing herself off.
From the inferno, Adrian walked out.
The flames parted around him, unable to touch him.
Harley froze, instinctively stepping behind Deadshot.
Adrian didn't even look at them.
He lifted into the air.
Deadshot followed his gaze and saw them.
Missiles.
Dozens of them, cutting through the sky toward the base.
"Are they insane?" he muttered.
Adrian shot forward like a meteor, racing to meet them.
A second later, Clark burst from the flames and followed, pushing himself to full speed.