The heat of the flames charred the building's foundations, causing support beams to crumble under their own strain as the inferno raged. How easy something as simple as a gas leak could erupt into a roaring blaze that could turn entire buildings into a torrential wildfire. Pushing through the smoldering wreckage of fallen debris, Sparga smashed his shoulder through a wall that seemed safe enough to not bring the whole building down to collapse. If the blazing building came crashing down on him, he could easily leap out of the ruin - But the others inside wouldn't be so lucky. There were at least 3 others trapped inside and he needed to hurry - His hybrid physiology meant the flames were inconsequential to him and he had no fear of the smoke filling his lungs. He could have easily put the fire out with a breath, but it would take too long to blow out the flames while people burned inside. He needed to save them before snuffing the fire out. His super hearing could hear everyone's cries for help, but if he moved too quickly, he risked tearing the whole building apart and hurting someone more than intended. But one of them was close.

The Superman could hear the woman's screams of fear as the dancing flames enclosed her and then another pillar of support that kept the ceiling from collapsing on top of her fell, weakening her small sanctuary. She was burning up and curled as tight as she could to keep from catching fire herself before a wall smashed through in front of her and Sparga emerged with flames lapping at his figure, thrashing with heated tongues that lapped at the air around him and trying but failing to char him or his suit.

Sparga: "I'm here! Take my hand!"
Before she could protest, Sparga shook his shoulders to shrug off the flames failing to burn through his physique and he lunged forward to swoop the woman up in his arms before he stampeded out through the wall and into empty air where they emerged from the third floor and into an open night sky where he flew down to carry her to the waiting arms of paramedics. Once she was comfortable on a gurney, he turned about face to scan for the location of the next survivor awaiting rescue. The building's stability was crumbling by the second and he wasn't sure if he could risk a quicker save without damaging the building to the point that it might become a hazard for the third soul in need of aid. Fourth floor. No time to lose.
Sparga's flight bolted him in a rising propulsion to jet back through the opening he made out from the third floor before he came crashing up the third floor's ceiling and into the fourth floor. The entryway he had smashed open collapsed beneath him when his body crashed through the floor, cutting that passageway off. But it's not as though he couldn't just force open another one. The flames swelled haphazardly and Sparga had to wince as the burning light flashed in his eyes, causing him to rear his head back to adjust his vision. He could hear the cries for help a few rooms over and his X-Ray Vision revealed a clear view of his target. Now to just figure out how to get there.
Outside, Sparga's super hearing could detect the firefighters clamoring in haste and he could hear their words as if they were standing next to him, informing him he needed to hurry.

"That stupid cape needs to get out of our way! The way he's crashing in and out of that building, this whole place is gonna go down any second! Hurry, get that hose going before the other buildings catch!"

Sparga's entire body felt the vibrations of the crumbling foundation around him and he knew that he didn't have long - seconds at best. His caution had cost him precious time to make a safe save and he needed to hurry. Now there was no luxury to be gentle. His x-ray vision still engaged to keep his eyes on the trapped soul with him on the fourth floor, he craned his neck up to see one lone soul up on the sixth above them. His teeth clenched tight as his jaw set into a scowl while his fists tightened into themselves and the flames boiled brighter as if mocking him with an external mirror to his own internal frustrations.
Throwing caution to the wind, Sparga's body moved on instinct and he charged forward to barrel through the walls barring his path. The flames failed to scorch him and the barricades of support beams and crackling dry wall and wood were too frail to halt his momentum as he lunged through several rooms to scoop up the man trying desperately to find a way out. Without any further hesitation, he flew straight up and used his own skull as a battering ram to trample through the flooring of the fifth level. Unfortunately, the fifth level's meager support was all that remained to keep the sixth floor intact and when Sparga's body forced its way through to rise toward the soul up above, the ground beneath them crumbled and they were left clawing at burning carpet to hold on so they wouldn't plummet to their death. But their grip was tenuous at best and they couldn't hold on, slipping and falling down to plunge into flames.

Only for the Superman to snatch them into his grasp with such swiftness that one moment they were fearing for their life when their hands gave out on them and then the next, they were outside and being placed in the safety of paramedics. Sighing in relief, Sparga stretched his neck to ease the tension of the stressful moment out of his nerves before one of the firefighters stomped over to him.
"Hey, stupid! If you could move like that from the start, why didn't you?! You coulda had all these people out of there five minutes ago!"

Beside the crowd, a low rumbling groan echoed, and the remaining structural integrity of the burning building gave out under its own weight. The complex buckled and began to fall down and the updraft of flame surged into an explosion that Sparga braced for while the citizens and first responders took cover. Sparga's fist clenched and he swung upward to drive a swipe at the empty air with such strength that the winds kicked up carried the explosion straight up to vortex in the skies. The kinetic force of his uppercut transferred through the air to produce its own explosive shockwave that would collide with the incoming explosion from the flames.

The air around his fists' path compressed and under the sheer speed and power of his punch, Sparga's impact produced a powerful exertion that caused the shockwaves of the explosion to redirect. As his fist swiped upward, a rush of wind shot out to displace the surrounding air with such strength that it altered the trajectory of the blast. The explosion, now deprived of its usual vector of expansion, had no choice but to alter its pathway and shot straight up into the sky. Heat and debris rocketed skyward, flames swarming in the direction of the punch before dissipating into harmless embers in the sky. Sparga's tightened fist relaxed as he lowered his arm back to his side and he turned back to the firefighter who had antagonized him only moments ago.
Sparga: "That's why."

"Oh alright, smartass! Listen, wise guy! We don't need your cape shit! You think we need you? We had it under control!"

As the fire still burned, Sparga took a step forward, ignoring the jabs of disdain before he took a large inhalation. His lungs filled with air and his ribcage expanded to accommodate the swell of his oxygen cavity before he leaned forward and released a gust of wind so cold and so chilling that the ensuing breeze was causing the flames to smother and the entire building was beginning to lose its heat. It took a few minutes to put out the entire building without blowing the flames onto nearby buildings and all the while, a few brazen bystanders and that particularly angry firefighter continued to throw their barbs at the Saiyan Kryptonian hybrid.
"Hey, you wanna let us do our job?! Fucking capes, man! We can take care of ourselves!"

"Lay off it, Jim. He got those people out and they're safe now. Isn't that what really matters?"
"Hey, fuck you too, Mash! We don't need capes thinking they can run things like before. Especially him!"
The brazen firefighter pointed toward Sparga, or rather toward the bright red S on his chest, as if emphasizing his point and Sparga stood upright after blowing the flame out entirely just in time to catch the pointed accusation. As he caught attention to the direction the firefighter labeled Jim pointed, noticing his disdain pointedly aimed at the S on his chest, Sparga's eyes softened in understanding.
"He thinks he can strut around acting like some kind of hero with that symbol on his chest? I remember what your old man did! You wanna be Superman? You wanna make us feel like you're some kinda hero? Well, the last Superman nearly flattened Gotham! I was there when he trampled through the city, burning kids alive for wearing clown makeup! You think that S makes you a hero?! Your old man went nuts! What guarantee do we have you won't do the same?!"

He frowned and let his shoulders slump, recognizing it was time to go. As he began to levitate off the ground, ready to take flight, Sparga felt someone grab his hand. He turned his attention toward them and he saw the man he had saved only moments ago from the fourth floor.
"I lost everything in that fire. Everything I built, gone. My life literally went up in smoke."
Sparga braced himself, uncomfortable with where this was going. He read the man's body language and steadied himself for the worst, ready to be a verbal punching bag to let this man vent his rage and frustration. But to his surprise, the man's expression softened and he smiled at Sparga.
"But I'm still alive, and that means I can do it again. Thank you for being there. If not for you, I wouldn't even have a chance to rebuild my life."
It took the Superman a moment to process, being so used to the hate and backlash of his existence that he often got. He stood there, dumbfounded and shocked by this display of appreciation while the man squeezed his hand gratefully, and the noise of the world around him and the angry firefighter's shouts of the sins of his legacy faded into a dull hum as his awareness lost focus on the surrounding environment and onto this rare expression of thanks - proof that he was doing something good. And then he returned the smile with a nod. Unsure of how to reply, he let his gratitude speak for him and the man seemed to recognize the glimmer of appreciation in the hybrid's eyes before letting go of his hand so he could fly off.

Gliding up into the air, Sparga kept his eyes toward the grateful man who expressed his thanks. It wasn't often he was given gratitude for his efforts these days, but it was a solid and tangible reminder that what he was doing mattered - that he was doing the right thing. Even as he ascended above the city skyline with the argument of the crowd breaking out about whether his help was beneficial or intrusive and banging at his preternatural senses, he kept that interaction looping in his mind's eye. Down below, the belligerent firefighter who was adamant in their stance that the Superman was unwanted was raising their voice to emphasize their point. But Sparga kept hearing those words over and over again in his head, sometimes by choice and sometimes unbidden; "Thank you for being there." It drowned out all other voices and made the chastisement thrown his way and the reminder of the legacy he had to restore seem so distant.

And for the first time in a long time, the red crest adorning his suit felt lighter. He exhaled softly and closed his eyes, smiling a gentle smile. Clearing above the city skyline and into the clouds above where he could be alone with his thoughts, Sparga let the memory loop in his mind again.

Trunks and Chronoa were so insistent that trying to follow this path was going to ruin him, that this world didn't want a savior. But that was twice now in one day where someone showed him gratitude for his actions - There was still a vast amount of people who reacted with the typical apprehension and resentment for the legacy worn on his uniform. But that was twice now that someone showed appreciation and recognized that what he was trying to do was just help. Sparga had tangible proof now that this wasn't a lost cause. That man he just pulled from the fire was about to go through what might be the hardest time in his life if what he said was true and he lost everything in the blaze. But he still showed optimism about rebuilding his life - he showed hope.

Hope.

As he swam through the clouds without a sense of direction, Sparga raised a hand to rest it against the scarlet S adorning the shield on his chest. It was such a small gesture and it didn't exactly outweigh all the thousands of wounds people still held onto from their memories of Kal's cruel regime. But no wound heals if one might keep picking at it.

Sparga took some time decompressing and flying aimlessly while meditating on how this small act proved that the world still needed a Superman. Before he knew it, the sun had set and the stars had come out to illuminate the world below. Surprisingly, nothing had set off his senses to any distinct or immediate danger that might need his attention. And it was a reprieve he was grateful for. Deciding to steal this moment for all its' worth, Sparga looked up and began elevating his altitude, rising with a steady swiftness as he soared above the planet's atmosphere. The air was thinner up here, but it didn't bother him. Even as he moved through and beyond the exosphere and into outer space, the lack of oxygen didn't disturb Sparga in the slightest.

Flying higher and higher to propel him through the vacuous void of space, Sparga let his boots touch down onto the moon softly, rustling dust that scattered and hovered out around him to float away in the endless ocean of stars. It was a place where he could truly be alone, far from even his fortress of solitude where nothing might break his peace. The moon's barren plateaus were a surprisingly soothing balm as he took in the events of the day. Finding a large enough rock to sit on, he turned to face the Earth and take its colors in. Sighing out to let the stale and sour air out of his lungs, Sparga felt the tension leave his body. It always seemed like such a big world when you're in it, but from up here? All Sparga could think about is how small the world he called his home is.

It made it seem fragile and delicate - a soft blue marble hanging in the void and protected by a paper-thin atmosphere. And if he actually opened his ears up? Sparga could still hear voices and noises on the Earth's surface even with the vacuum of space extending over two hundred thousand miles between him and his home. It was hard to believe that such a small and delicate orb could be home to so much chaos, so much life and so much activity. Raising his hands up, Sparga's perspective made it seem like he was cradling the planet in his hands and he was more sure than ever that what he was doing wasn't just necessary, it was right.

And being Superman was never about doing things because they're easy. Doing the right thing isn't always fashionable or exciting, and it certainly isn't ever easy. Even through the void of space and the hundreds of thousands of miles between him and that big blue marble that from where he sat looked so small and easy to cradle in his fingertips, Sparga could hear so many innumerable voices clamoring discordantly over one another to weave a symphony of life and love and wonder that was jarring and sharp as it was ethereal and beautiful. And then he tuned it all out, silencing the noise in his senses and focusing his perception all on the visual. He caught himself smiling despite himself as he exhaled again, tenderly gazing upon the Earth. So many people, all densely packed in such a beautiful little orb, and all of them happy and sure in their belief that the sun will rise again tomorrow. Seeing it from up here, it was a heart wrenching reminder that so many people wasted their days away angry and seeking to hurt others - sometimes for reasons they didn't even understand. But really, all they had was each other. And Sparga knows they have the potential to be better. He's seen that potential firsthand in the memories of the heroes he idolized as a child, guiding mankind to greater heights. But then the Earth's greatest heroes became its darkest hour and though that time is passed, the people of Earth aren't keen or quick to forget.
And that did make things hard. But Sparga knew deep down in his soul that how hard it was is a trivial matter in comparison to how important it was to give them the chance to grow. And if they cling only to their past pains, then they'll never do so. Still smiling, the hybrid ran his fingers over the crimson letter engraved over his chest. There was proof some people wanted to grow. And it might be a small minority, but it was proof that not everyone on Earth wanted to linger in their trauma.

Knowing that the scars left behind in Kal-El's wake were things that so many people held onto and used to draw their own strength from so they could never be hurt like that again, Sparga understood how desperately so many people wanted to weaponize their pain and hurt at the betrayal from a man who at one point was their world's shining beacon of optimism and heroism. "The last Superman nearly flattened Gotham! I was there when he trampled through the city, burning kids alive for wearing clown makeup!" Those words rang through Sparga's mind as he recalled them with a bitter taste in his mouth, like he had inhaled a foul smoke. Three years of stories and anger and resentment not too different from that one had ingrained into Sparga how deep the wounds were for the people of Earth. Three years of reactionary outbursts of anger at the S he wore on his chest. And Sparga knew that it would take a lot more effort to ever make those wounds stop hurting.
And his conversations with Trunks and Chronoa didn't help either, constantly reminding him they feel like he chose something that wasn't them, as if they want him to feel guilty for forging his own path. He still cared for them and wanted them to understand, but it wasn't making his goal any easier the way they continued to push him away out of their mistaken belief he was going somewhere they couldn't follow. No matter how he turned it over in his head, Sparga couldn't think of a soul in his personal life who wanted him to be Superman. But when that man held onto his hand and thanked him for giving him a chance to rebuild his life, none of those hardships seemed to be as difficult.
And as he stared out to the Earth in all its beauty, smiling with a heartfelt peace, he was reminded that while not everyone would ever agree with him, this world needed a Superman. And maybe one day, he'd grow into being the one it needed.