The darkness enveloped everything, a thick, unyielding shroud that pressed down on Megan like an invisible weight. She stirred slowly, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal a world that felt both alien and strangely familiar. The first thing she noticed was the crater beneath her—a jagged depression in the earth, its edges cracked and uneven, as if some tremendous force had slammed into the ground with unrelenting fury. The soil was loose and gritty against her skin, small pebbles digging into her back as she shifted. Above her, the night sky stretched out infinitely, punctuated by a full moon hanging directly overhead, its pale silver light casting long, eerie shadows across the landscape. The moon's glow was cold and distant, illuminating the scene just enough to highlight the desolation around her.
Megan blinked several times, trying to clear the haze that clouded her vision. Her head throbbed with a dull ache, not sharp enough to be debilitating but persistent enough to make every thought feel like wading through molasses. Where was she? The question echoed in her mind, but no immediate answer surfaced. Everything felt nublado—foggy, confused. Memories flickered like distant stars, too faint to grasp fully. She pushed herself up to a sitting position, her hands sinking slightly into the soft dirt of the crater floor. The air was cool against her skin, carrying a faint scent of scorched earth and something metallic, like ozone after a lightning strike. She looked around, scanning the surroundings with growing bewilderment. Rocky outcrops jutted from the ground like jagged teeth, interspersed with sparse patches of dry grass that swayed gently in a light breeze. In the distance, vague silhouettes of hills or mountains loomed, but nothing struck her as recognizable. No familiar landmarks, no signs of civilization—just an endless expanse of wilderness under the watchful eye of the moon.
Her gaze drifted downward to her own body, and she paused, taking in the sight of her clothing. The uniform clung to her form, a sleek ensemble of deep green and red accents, with a distinctive emblem across her chest. It was the same style her uncle wore, the one he had always donned with such pride and purpose. The fabric was durable, almost otherworldly in its resilience, designed for protection and mobility. She ran her fingers over the material, feeling its smooth texture, and a spark of recognition ignited in her foggy mind. This was her uniform, wasn't it? But why was she wearing it here, in this unfamiliar place? The confusion deepened, swirling in her thoughts like a storm cloud.
Instinctively, Megan began to rise, but instead of standing on her feet, she found herself floating upward, her body lifting effortlessly off the ground. She hovered there for a moment, suspended a few inches above the crater's floor, her legs dangling loosely. A lapse hit her then—a sudden, disorienting gap in her awareness, as if time had skipped a beat. She shook her head slightly, trying to dispel the sensation. "Hello, Megan," she murmured aloud, the words slipping out almost automatically. It was her bordão, copied from that old series she used to watch, a quirky greeting that always made her smile. But now, it felt out of place, echoing hollowly in the quiet night. "Am I on Earth? Why am I on Earth?" The questions tumbled from her lips in a whisper, her voice tinged with uncertainty. The Earth? Why would she be on Earth? Her uncle had told her stories about this planet, its bustling cities and heroic figures, but this didn't match any of those tales. This was barren, isolated.
Determined to make sense of it all, Megan allowed herself to levitate higher, drifting slowly around the area. She circled the crater first, her body gliding smoothly through the air, the moon's light reflecting off her uniform as she moved. The landscape unfolded below her—more craters dotted the ground, some smaller than others, as if a meteor shower had pelted the earth recently. Rocks of various sizes lay scattered about, some cracked in half, others embedded in the soil. She scanned for any sign of life, any clue that might jog her memory, but the fog in her mind persisted, making it hard to focus. Thoughts came in fragments: flashes of green skin, telepathic whispers, a sense of belonging somewhere far away. But nothing coalesced into a clear picture. She levitated farther, weaving between the rocky formations, her height increasing gradually to about five meters off the ground. The wind picked up slightly, rustling her hair and carrying the faint sound of distant nocturnal creatures—perhaps insects chirping or an owl hooting. Still, no answers came. What had happened to bring her here? Why couldn't she think straight?
Suddenly, without warning, an explosion erupted just four meters in front of her. The blast was deafening, a sharp crack that reverberated through the air like thunder. Dirt and rocks were hurled upward in a violent shower, pelting down on Megan like a gritty rain. She raised her arms instinctively to shield her face, the debris bouncing off her uniform and skin with minimal impact. The force of the explosion created a plume of smoke and dust that billowed outward, obscuring her vision for several long seconds. She coughed lightly, waving a hand to clear the air around her. As the fumaça—smoke—began to dissipate, settling back to the ground in a hazy veil, Megan's eyes focused on the new crater that had formed from the blast. It was similar in size to the one she had awoken in, its edges smoking faintly from the residual heat.
Inside this fresh depression, crouched low and clutching his head, was a young man. He appeared tall, at least 1.80 meters, maybe even 1.90—she couldn't quite gauge it accurately from her vantage point, especially with him hunched over. His frame was athletic, muscular, suggesting strength and agility. His hair was disheveled, and he seemed to be in pain, his fingers digging into his scalp as if trying to ward off some internal torment. Megan's confusion gave way to concern. "Hey, are you okay?" she called out, her voice carrying across the short distance. She questioned inwardly what was happening—another person here, in this desolate place? It didn't make sense. Remembering the languages of Earth that her uncle had taught her, she switched to the one she knew best: English. But the words had come out in a mix; perhaps her mind was still too clouded to separate them properly.
The young man looked up at her then, his eyes wild and unfocused. He rose to his feet slowly, his movements deliberate yet charged with tension. A deep, guttural roar escaped his lips, echoing across the landscape like a beast's challenge. Megan's eyes widened as she took in his appearance more closely. He wore a black shirt, stretched taut over his broad chest, emblazoned with a distinctive symbol—a stylized emblem that she recognized immediately. It was the Kryptonian mark of the House of El, the same one her uncle had described in his stories about Superman, the legendary hero from Krypton who protected Earth. She had heard those tales countless times, tales of strength, flight, and invulnerability. Not only that, but she had seen glimpses on the television broadcasts from Mars, images of Superman soaring through the skies, his cape billowing behind him. The symbol was unmistakable, a beacon of hope and power. But this young man didn't exude heroism; he radiated raw, uncontrolled fury.
"All good?" Megan ventured again, her voice tentative, trying to bridge the gap with reassurance. But in response, the young man gripped the front of his shirt with both hands and tore it apart with a savage yank. The fabric ripped loudly, shreds falling to the ground as he exposed his bare chest. He screamed then, a primal yell that sent chills down her spine. His gaze locked onto hers, piercing and intense, as if seeing right through her. Megan's heart raced. "Opa," she muttered, a reflexive exclamation of surprise. In the blink of an eye, he moved—launching himself toward her with incredible speed. It was so fast that she barely registered it; one moment he was standing in the crater, the next he was hurtling through the air directly at her.
Her reflexes kicked in, sharper than she remembered. Without conscious thought, Megan shifted her form, becoming —intangible. It was an instinctive action, her body phasing out of solidity just as he reached her. The young man passed right through her ethereal form, his momentum carrying him forward unchecked. He collided with a massive rocha—a large rock—behind her, the impact shattering it into fragments with a resounding crash. Dust and debris exploded outward again, but Megan remained untouched, her intangible state protecting her completely. She rematerialized a second later, staring at her own hands in astonishment. This ability... she hadn't learned it, hadn't practiced it. It wasn't something she knew she could do. How had she managed it? The fog in her mind parted slightly, allowing a glimmer of realization: it must have been pure instinct, a survival mechanism triggered by the threat.
The young man, undeterred by the collision, screamed once more, his voice raw with rage. He had demolished the rock entirely, leaving only rubble in his wake. Megan, sensing the danger escalating, levitated upward quickly, ascending to about ten meters above the ground to maintain distance. The moon's light cast her shadow long and wavering below. From this height, she could see him more clearly—his muscles tensed, veins bulging, every inch of him coiled like a spring ready to unleash. He glanced up at her, his expression feral, and then leaped. The jump was effortless, propelling him skyward with gigantic ease, closing the gap in an instant.
But Megan was prepared this time. Drawing on her inner strength, she projected a shield of telecinese—a transparent barrier of pure mental energy—in front of her. It shimmered faintly in the moonlight, invisible to the untrained eye but solid as steel. The young man slammed into it with full force, the collision generating a shockwave that rippled through the air. The impact was tremendous, far stronger than she had anticipated. Both were hurled backward: Megan tumbled through the air, her body spinning slightly before she regained control, landing hard on the ground several meters away. The telekinetic feedback had jolted her, sending a wave of fatigue through her limbs. The young man, ricocheted by the shield, was thrown even farther, skidding across the dirt and creating a furrow in the earth before coming to a stop.
They both rose quickly, dusting themselves off. Megan's breath came in short gasps, her mind racing to process the encounter. But to her surprise, the young man ignored her now. His attention shifted elsewhere, as if she were no longer a threat or even worthy of notice. With another powerful leap, he bounded away, his form disappearing into the night, jumping from one rocky outcrop to another until he was out of sight. The echoes of his movements faded, leaving only silence in their wake.
Megan floated back down slowly, her feet touching the ground gently. The confusion returned in full force, amplified by the adrenaline still coursing through her. "Where am I?" she whispered to herself, her voice small against the vastness of the night. The moon stared down impassively, offering no answers. The landscape remained unchanged—craters, rocks, emptiness. Her mind was still nublado, thoughts fragmented, but one thing was clear: this was not where she was supposed to be. The encounter with the young man lingered in her thoughts, his Kryptonian symbol a puzzle piece that didn't fit. She levitated slightly again, scanning the horizon, but the fog persisted. What now? The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the chapter drew to a close.
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