Opening Scene: Superman vs. Brainiac
The sky over Metropolis was tearing itself apart.
Superman hovered amidst the chaos, his eyes locked on Brainiac, whose cold, calculated form floated at the epicenter of a rapidly growing rift. The rift twisted the skyline, bending reality itself, as if the city was being pulled into a black hole. Superman's cape billowed violently behind him as waves of energy pulsed out from the tear, distorting everything in its wake.
"Do you truly believe you can stop the inevitable, Kal-El?" Brainiac's voice was as smooth and detached as ever, unbothered by the destruction unfolding around him. His cold, mechanical eyes glowed a soft green, reflecting the swirling chaos that threatened to consume everything.
Superman's heart pounded, his senses overwhelmed by the scale of the threat. The rift was more than just a tear in space—it was a void, pulling the very fabric of reality apart. He could hear the city groaning under the pressure. Buildings strained, their steel beams bending unnaturally. Far below, he could hear the panicked screams of the people of Metropolis, running, afraid.
"I won't let you do this, Brainiac!" Superman shouted over the howling winds. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, his entire body bracing against the pull of the rift. "You don't have to destroy everything!"
"Destruction is a necessity for order," Brainiac responded calmly. His voice was like ice, unfeeling, void of any humanity. "You and your world are bound by chaos. It is the natural state of all life. My purpose is to correct that disorder. To bring order."
Superman's jaw tightened. This wasn't the first time he'd faced Brainiac, but this was different. The rift wasn't just a threat to Metropolis—it was a threat to everything. He could feel the pull of it even from where he floated, the sheer gravitational force tugging at his body, distorting the very air around him.
"I've heard enough of your twisted logic, Brainiac," Superman growled, his eyes narrowing.
He shot forward, moving faster than the eye could track, his body a blur of motion as he slammed into Brainiac with a force that would have shattered mountains. The impact sent Brainiac flying backward, but even as his metallic form tumbled through the air, he remained eerily calm.
"You fight for chaos," Brainiac said, righting himself with mechanical precision. His limbs twitched as he activated a device on his wrist, and the rift pulsed in response. "You fight for a world that will collapse under the weight of its own disorder. I am simply accelerating the process."
Superman grimaced as the force of the rift intensified. He could feel the energy building behind him, the gravitational pull growing stronger. The rift was expanding faster now, its pull threatening to drag him in.
"That's not order, Brainiac. That's annihilation!" Superman shouted, straining to push forward against the pull of the rift.
Brainiac tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating Superman's words. "Annihilation is the only path to perfection."
Superman's muscles strained as he fought against the pull of the vortex. His entire body was tense, resisting the immense gravitational force that threatened to drag him backward into the abyss. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to keep pushing forward, to stop Brainiac before the rift consumed everything.
"You won't win, Brainiac!" Superman surged forward again, determination etched into every fiber of his being. He reached Brainiac, his fist colliding with the villain's chest once more, but this time, Brainiac didn't budge. The rift's pull was too strong.
"You misunderstand," Brainiac said, his voice calm and detached as ever. "I do not seek victory. I seek inevitability."
With a flick of his wrist, Brainiac activated the device again, and the rift exploded in size. The gravitational force became overwhelming, and before Superman could react, the rift's pull took hold.
Superman fought against it, his teeth gritted as he tried to fly forward, but it was no use. The force was too strong. He was being dragged into the vortex, reality warping around him as space itself collapsed.
No… Superman thought, panic briefly flashing through his mind. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized he couldn't break free.
The last thing he saw before the rift swallowed him whole was Brainiac's expressionless face, watching as if this had all been part of his plan.
"Goodbye, Kal-El," Brainiac said, his voice barely audible over the deafening roar of the rift.
And then, everything went dark.
Superman Awakens in a Strange New World
When Superman opened his eyes, the first thing he felt was the cold.
The warmth of Metropolis's sun was gone, replaced by an icy wind that bit at his skin as he lay in the center of a massive crater. The ground around him was cracked and scorched, as if something cataclysmic had occurred, though his memory of what had happened was hazy. He pushed himself to his feet slowly, his body still adjusting to the disorienting effects of whatever force had pulled him through the rift.
He was somewhere new—somewhere… wrong.
Superman's eyes scanned his surroundings, taking in the bleak, decaying cityscape around him. The buildings were tall and oppressive, their windows shattered or covered in grime. Neon signs flickered dimly, casting an eerie glow on the empty streets below. The air felt heavy, like a storm was brewing, but there was something more to it than that—something unnatural, like the very atmosphere was poisoned.
This isn't Metropolis, Superman thought, his brow furrowing.
He floated into the air, rising above the city to get a better view. The skyline stretched on for miles, but it was devoid of the energy and life that defined his home. Everything here felt… hollow. The buildings, the streets, even the faint hum of electricity in the distance—it all felt muted, like a city on the verge of collapse.
Superman closed his eyes and focused, extending his super-hearing outward. He expected to hear the familiar sounds of a bustling city—the rhythm of traffic, the distant chatter of people, the hum of life. But what he heard instead was unsettling.
"…Homelander could've stopped it, but he didn't care…"
"…Vought controls everything. No one's gonna stand up to them…"
"…you can't trust the supes. They're all the same."
Superman's frown deepened as the words sank in. The voices he heard were filled with bitterness, with distrust and fear. People were talking about heroes, but not in the way he was used to. There was no admiration, no hope. Instead, there was anger and resentment.
This isn't right. This isn't how it's supposed to be.
He opened his eyes again and flew higher, scanning the city with his enhanced vision. In the distance, he spotted a towering billboard, its bright lights standing out against the otherwise decaying skyline. The image on the billboard showed a man dressed in red, white, and blue, standing tall with his arms crossed, smiling confidently down at the city. Above him, in bold letters, were the words "Homelander: Protector of the People."
Superman's eyes narrowed as he focused on the image. There was something about the man's smile that unsettled him. It was too perfect, too polished, as if it had been designed to inspire trust, but without any real emotion behind it. It was a mask.
As Superman zoomed in on the billboard, he noticed a news broadcast playing on a large screen in the plaza below.
"…and once again, The Seven, led by Homelander, have saved the day. Vought International continues to ensure the safety of our city, keeping us safe from harm. With heroes like Homelander protecting us, we have nothing to fear…"
Superman's stomach turned as he listened to the broadcast. The Seven? Vought International? None of this made sense. These weren't names he recognized, and the tone of the broadcast felt more like propaganda than genuine news. The way the reporter spoke about these "heroes" was as if they were products, commodities meant to inspire loyalty and obedience.
This isn't my world.
Before Superman could process the implications of what he was seeing and hearing, a sharp scream cut through the air, shattering his focus. It was the sound of someone in danger.
Without hesitation, Superman shot forward, moving faster than sound as he followed the scream. He weaved between buildings, scanning the streets below until he found the source of the cry—a large apartment complex engulfed in flames. Thick, black smoke poured from the windows, and the crackle of fire echoed through the streets as the flames consumed the building.
Superman's First Rescue in The Boys' World
Superman landed in front of the burning building, his boots hitting the ground with a thud as he surveyed the scene. The fire had already spread rapidly, consuming the lower floors and trapping dozens of people on the upper levels. He could see firefighters gathered outside, struggling to contain the blaze, but they weren't equipped to handle something of this magnitude.
Without a second thought, Superman flew into the flames, his eyes glowing as he scanned the building with his X-ray vision. He could see the trapped civilians—mothers clutching their children, elderly residents struggling to breathe through the thick smoke. His heart ached for them. There was no time to waste.
"Stay calm!" Superman called out, his voice steady and reassuring as he began lifting debris with ease, clearing paths for people to escape. "I'll get you out of here!"
He moved swiftly, his heat vision cutting through walls when necessary, creating exits where there were none. He flew the first group of people to safety, setting them down gently outside the building before darting back inside for the next group.
But as he worked, Superman noticed something strange. The people outside weren't reacting the way they usually did. There was no cheering, no looks of relief. Instead, the crowd that had gathered to watch the rescue was… confused. Skeptical.
As Superman emerged from the building with the last group of civilians, setting them down gently on the ground, he approached one of the firefighters, his brow furrowed in concern.
"Is everyone safe?" Superman asked, his voice calm but laced with urgency.
The firefighter, a young man with soot covering his face, nodded slowly but looked at Superman with something akin to suspicion. "Yeah… thanks to you, I guess."
Superman blinked, caught off guard by the uncertainty in the firefighter's voice. He glanced at the crowd that had gathered nearby. They were watching him, but their faces weren't filled with awe or gratitude. There was confusion there, even… distrust.
"Who is this guy?" one man in the crowd muttered, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Where's Homelander?" a woman asked, frowning. "He's the one who's supposed to deal with this stuff."
Superman turned to face the crowd, his heart sinking as he realized what was happening. These people—they didn't trust him. They didn't know him.
One man stepped forward, glaring at Superman with suspicion. "You tryin' to make The Seven look bad? What's your angle?"
Superman took a step back, the weight of their words hitting him like a physical blow. He had saved them—he had pulled people from a burning building, risked his own life to protect them—and this was their response? Suspicion? Distrust?
What kind of world is this?
Without another word, Superman lifted off into the air, disappearing into the clouds as the murmurs of the crowd continued to echo in his ears.
Vought Reacts to Superman's AppearanceInside the sleek, glass-walled boardroom of Vought International, tension filled the air. The screen mounted on the far wall played footage of Superman's rescue on a loop, showing him flying into the burning building, emerging with civilians in his arms, and setting them down safely on the street. But instead of the expected applause, the video captured the confused and skeptical expressions of the crowd.
Madelyn Stillwell sat at the head of the long, polished table, her sharp eyes fixed on the footage. Around her, Vought executives whispered nervously, their anxious gazes darting between the screen and their boss.
"This isn't good," Ashley Barrett muttered under her breath, nervously adjusting her glasses as she reviewed the data streaming in from social media. "He's already trending. #WhoIsTheNewSupe is blowing up."
Stillwell's gaze didn't waver from the screen, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the table as she processed the situation. This new supe had come out of nowhere—no record, no Vought branding, no PR spin. That alone made him a problem. But what made him even more dangerous was how competent he appeared. There were no cameras, no fanfare, no showmanship. He'd simply flown in, saved lives, and left without so much as a word.
"We've never seen him before," one of the executives said, his voice shaking slightly. "How do we not know about a supe with that kind of power?"
Stillwell finally tore her gaze away from the screen, fixing the executive with a cold, calculating stare. "We're about to find out."
Ashley's fingers flew over her tablet, pulling up search results, data points, anything they could find on the mysterious new hero. But there was nothing. No files, no contracts, no evidence that he had ever existed before today.
"He's not one of ours," Ashley said quietly, her voice trembling. "No records in any of our systems. Not in The Seven's roster or any of the other teams."
Stillwell's lips curled into a tight smile. "Then we have a problem. A big one."
The room fell silent as Stillwell rose from her seat and walked slowly toward the screen, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor. She stood in front of the footage of Superman, frozen on the image of him cradling a child in his arms, looking every bit the hero Vought had spent years crafting their brand around.
"He's a threat," Stillwell said, her voice cool and composed. "Not just because of his powers, but because of what he represents. We control the narrative. We decide what heroes are. And this man? He's not playing by our rules."
The executives exchanged nervous glances. They all knew what happened to supes who didn't play by Vought's rules.
"What's the plan, Madelyn?" one of the senior executives asked cautiously. "How do we handle this?"
Stillwell turned back to the table, her eyes gleaming with a predatory sharpness. "First, we find out who he is. Every detail, every lead, every trace of his existence. Then we figure out his angle. Is he a rogue supe looking for attention? Is he working for someone else? Whatever the case, we need to know. And fast."
Ashley hesitated before speaking again. "And if he's not working for anyone?"
Stillwell's smile widened slightly, but there was no warmth in it. "Then we make sure the public sees him as a threat. We control the story. We've done it before. We'll do it again."
She turned to the assembled executives, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "Get ahead of this. Run stories about the dangers of unchecked supes operating outside of Vought's control. Start planting the idea that a supe who isn't regulated is a danger to society. If we can't find a weakness, we'll manufacture one."
One of the younger executives, clearly shaken by the intensity of the situation, spoke up. "But what if… what if he's the real deal? What if he's actually a hero?"
Stillwell's expression turned icy, her gaze cutting through the young man like a blade. "There's no such thing as a real hero. Not in this world."
The room went silent again, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air. The executives understood what was at stake. This new supe, whoever he was, represented a danger not just to their business, but to the carefully constructed image of heroism they had cultivated over decades. If the public started to believe in a hero outside of Vought's control, everything could unravel.
"We'll deal with him," Stillwell said, her voice calm and measured. "One way or another."
Superman Reflects on the New World
High above the city, Superman floated in the cold, still air, his cape trailing behind him as he looked down at the sprawling landscape below. From up here, the city seemed peaceful, quiet—almost serene. But he knew better. He could feel the tension, the distrust that seemed to permeate everything in this world.
This place… it wasn't right. The people here didn't trust their heroes. And from what he'd seen so far, he couldn't blame them.
Superman's mind raced as he replayed the events of the rescue over and over in his head. The fire, the people trapped inside, the civilians he had saved—and the way they had looked at him afterward. Suspicion. Confusion. Distrust. He was used to people cheering when he saved the day, used to seeing relief and gratitude in their eyes. But here, it was as if they didn't know what to make of him.
Why were they so afraid?
He could still hear their murmurs, the whispers that had followed him into the sky.
"Where's Homelander?"
"Who is this guy?"
"Nobody helps for free."
Superman's heart tightened in his chest. These people had been saved—he had pulled them from a burning building, risked his life to ensure their safety—and yet, instead of gratitude, all they had offered him was doubt. It was as if the very concept of selflessness didn't exist here.
What happened to this world?
Superman gazed out across the skyline, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. In the distance, he could see more billboards, more advertisements featuring heroes—The Seven, all of them posing triumphantly, looking down at the city like gods among men. But there was something wrong about it. The smiles plastered on their faces felt hollow, like they had been engineered, crafted for the sole purpose of selling an image.
This is more than just a different city. This is a different reality.
Superman's thoughts drifted back to the rift, to the moment when Brainiac had triggered the tear in space. He had felt it pulling at him, warping the very fabric of reality. And now… now he was here. In a place that felt so similar to his world, yet fundamentally different.
The people here didn't trust heroes. They feared them. And worse, it seemed that the heroes in this world had given them every reason to feel that way.
Superman clenched his fists at his sides, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. I don't belong here. This wasn't his world. He needed to find a way back to Metropolis, back to Lois, to the people he had sworn to protect. But how? The rift had been an anomaly, something even he didn't fully understand. And if Brainiac had planned this, if it was all part of some larger scheme…
Superman shook his head. No. He couldn't afford to think that way. Right now, all he could do was help the people here, just as he would in his own world. He was Superman. And it didn't matter what universe he was in—people needed saving, and he would be there to save them.
But as he stared down at the city below, at the people moving about their lives under the shadow of these false gods, he couldn't help but feel the weight of the challenge ahead. This world didn't need a hero. It needed hope.
And I'm not going to give up on them, Superman thought, his resolve hardening. Not now. Not ever.
Vought's Plan to Control the Narrative
Back inside Vought Tower, Stillwell paced slowly along the length of the boardroom, her mind racing as she calculated the next steps. The appearance of this rogue supe had disrupted the delicate balance they had spent years perfecting. The Seven were their crown jewels, the shining examples of heroism that kept the public in line. But now, with this unknown element on the scene, that balance was at risk.
"We need to act fast," Stillwell said, her voice cutting through the silence. "We can't let this guy go unchecked."
The other executives nodded in agreement, though there was an undercurrent of fear in the room. Vought was used to being in control, used to managing their heroes like assets. But this new supe—he was a wild card.
Ashley nervously glanced at her notes before speaking up. "Madelyn, if this supe really isn't affiliated with anyone, we might be dealing with something unprecedented. He doesn't seem to care about fame, attention, or even money. He just… saves people."
"Exactly," Stillwell replied, her tone sharp. "And that's the problem. He's not following the script. The public expects certain things from their heroes, and if we let this guy continue doing what he's doing, they might start asking questions we don't want them to ask."
Another executive chimed in, his voice low and concerned. "We've never dealt with someone like this before. If we can't control him, how do we neutralize him?"
Stillwell paused, her eyes narrowing as she considered the options. There were always ways to bring someone in line. Vought had a long history of dealing with unruly supes—heroes who had stepped out of bounds, tried to defy the system. But this man was different. He wasn't just a threat to their brand. He was a threat to the very foundation of their power.
"We start with the media," Stillwell said, her voice calm and controlled. "We plant seeds of doubt. Stories about the dangers of unregulated supes, how they can cause more harm than good. We show the public that a hero who operates outside of Vought's control is a threat to society. If we can't bring him under our umbrella, we turn him into the villain."
Ashley nodded, typing frantically into her tablet as she took notes. "I'll get the PR team on it right away. We'll start with a few op-eds, maybe some interviews with The Seven, talking about the importance of accountability in heroism."
Stillwell's lips curled into a smile. "Good. Let's make sure the public knows that heroes without oversight are dangerous. And if this supe keeps acting without our approval… we'll make sure he's seen as a menace."
The executives exchanged nervous glances, but none of them dared to challenge her. They had seen what Vought was capable of. And now, with this new supe threatening to upset their carefully curated image, they knew that whatever it took to neutralize him, Vought would do it.