Still Defiant! SI-OC [Marvel/DC]

3: To be a Hero

Landing was much more difficult than expected.

Starting to fly was indeed easier, although I couldn't say I had the grace of an eagle in the air, I was quite happy with what I had accomplished.

Flying had been like breathing for the first time; it was something that clicked in his mind the moment he tried it, something natural as if he had always been destined to be able to do it.

He hadn't gained absolute proficiency in it or anything like that; it was as if he had learned to crawl, in fact. He still had to learn to walk and then run, but he would get there.

Landing, on the other hand...

Needless to say, his farmhouse gained a new hole in the roof that night.

And so, he had decided to go to the center of Smallville in search of tools to repair his roof.

The town itself was quite picturesque, nice, and welcoming, albeit small.

The name didn't lie; so far, he hadn't managed to find anything strange in it, apart from a meteor shower that had happened 17 years ago.

Although the town had been devastated to some extent, it had managed to recover quite well, and its citizens seemed quite friendly.

As he looked at the town square, he couldn't help but grimace while biting into the last bite of his chocolate-filled bread.

It was... unpleasant, a whole range of flavors that he hadn't been able to perceive before, now clear as the sun to his taste buds.

Perhaps this was the first major drawback he had noticed from his new physiology.

Taste buds beyond human weren't enjoyable.

Not to mention the sense of smell. Breathing carefully had taken on a new meaning for him.

He wondered if he should stop eating until he found a way to fix this.

If he were just a Viltrumite, he would still need sustenance, but with the Life Core in him, eating became unnecessary.

If he wanted, he could stop, and the core could easily provide him with everything he needed to stay healthy for, well... forever.

If a Viltrumite already had an enormous lifespan, he, with the Core, had gone beyond that.

In theoretical terms, he was immortal. Of course, he could die; if his core was destroyed, he would be left only with his body, and if his body was destroyed, it would be game over.

This information came to him when he first woke up in this world. The being didn't lie to him, and he had gained a bit more information about his advantages.

For example, the core was much more useful and vital than the description let on at first glance.

More precisely, the part about "safeguarding his soul, spirit, and thoughts."

To put it simply, this feature made him immune to mental control. It was also like a shield that protected his thoughts, so he didn't have to worry about mind readers.

How it worked was beyond him, and although there was a deeper explanation that had a lot to do with multiple dimensions and astral planes that he honestly didn't understand at all, all that mattered to him right now was that he didn't need to worry about short-term mental control.

That was a relief; if someone were to truly control him mentally, he knew things would quickly go to hell.

Not having that concern made everything simpler in various aspects, like the decision he had made.

Being a hero.

That was what he wanted, that was what he had chosen to be, and the responsibility he had chosen to bear.

Not having to worry about mental control had helped solidify that decision.

Another point in favor of choosing this path had been his disadvantages

He hadn't obtained more information about them, so he could only go by what little he knew.

And what he knew did not bode well.

With them entering the game, this world would likely enter an era of chaos.

From his fragmented memories, he knew that this world was already disastrous, but adding his disadvantages was like setting fire to a collapsing house.

So, yes, he also felt responsibility for it. If he didn't have a second chance in this world, those threats wouldn't be looming.

His mere existence made an already dangerous world even more perilous.

Therefore, he had decided that something had to be done, that someone should do something.

And so, his decision was made; he would do it himself.

To be a hero.

He would face anything that threatened the Earth.

Still, he knew that expecting to face everything alone was naive.

Besides, he had an advantage that worked in conjunction with others.

So, he had decided that his best option to better fulfill his goal was to seek allies.

It was simple logic, really.

If two forces of the same level meet, any variable, no matter how small, can make a difference and tip the scales.

And Daniel wanted that balance to tip in his favor, so finding allies was the right choice.

He knew from his fragmented memories that there should be heroes in this world.

Emphasis on "should."

Because he hadn't been able to find anything so far, nothing that still existed in reality.

He had found information about a super soldier who participated in World War II, but the man had been dead for a long time.

He had also come across some internet rumors about a bat-like monster in a city called Gotham, but that was many years ago when crime in that city was through the roof.

Today, that time had passed, and Gotham was one of the safest cities in the United States. And there had been no new sightings of the bat monster for many years.

There were some other rumors, but they were too distant and unreliable to extract anything worthwhile.

Sighing, he tossed the remainder of his bread into a nearby trash bin.

He couldn't continue eating something so unpleasant.

.

.

.

Running from Smallville to the nearest city called Metropolis had been quite easy for Daniel.

With his speed, he arrived in record time and admired the views of what people called the "City of Tomorrow."

It was impressive. The skyscrapers and the almost futuristic look in its construction certainly lived up to its name.

Such a city hadn't existed in his previous life, so Daniel felt excited to explore.

If he could, he would have loved to fly, but that wasn't possible for now; after all, he still didn't know how to land.

But even though it was exciting to explore a completely new city, he knew he had to go a bit further.

That's how he arrived in New York.

The reason? To get some materials.

Information about Viltrumite synthetic fibers had been lingering in his mind, and he hadn't thought about it until he began testing his powers, and his clothes started tearing as if they were made of wet paper.

Thanks to that, he realized the possibility of ending up naked was too high.

Therefore, he had decided to get to work and try to create something that could help him on that front.

Which was easier said than done.

In reality, the Viltrumite textile industry had experimented a lot before achieving suitable results.

In their more primitive times, they had actually needed to use their own hair to create garments to wear.

It wasn't until much later that they managed to find a way to create fabric strong enough to withstand what they were capable of.

From there, they only advanced further with each conquered planet and civilization, making their highest-quality fabrics even more resistant than the average Viltrumite's skin.

Daniel couldn't create top-quality Viltrumite fabric.

Not only because he didn't have the materials, but he didn't even have the tools to make the tools.

And while using the Life Core, it occurred to him that he could use his hair to create something similar to the primitive Viltrumite fabrics. However, he felt that wasn't necessary. After all, he could still create a type of Viltrumite fabric that was good enough for his current stage and didn't require too many materials or overly complicated tools.

It was a type of fabric created through a complicated chemical process that was difficult to explain, but in summary, it resulted in a liquid material akin to a polymer that would solidify upon contact with the air.

The way Viltrumites created the fabric with it was actually quite similar to what the 3D printers in his old world did with their polymers. The liquid was inserted into special machines that gave it the form of "threads" that would then be braided in a way that increased its resistance even more, thus creating fabric.

It wasn't as good as their more advanced fabrics created with even more advanced processes, but it was sturdy enough for a Viltrumite to wear in their daily life.

The chemicals and the process to create the mixture were the easy part; Daniel already knew the process, and Earth actually had the necessary chemicals. The problem was the machine.

It was 2007 in this world, so there should already be some 3D printers on the market. The problem was that these 3D printers were light-years away from Viltrumite machines. And although the technology sector in this world seemed more advanced than that of his world, he didn't trust that even if he had a 3D printer from his world, it could produce the most optimal results.

So, his plan was to adapt a 3D printer. Fortunately, the information he had came with some simple blueprints, and although he couldn't build one of those machines from scratch, he could try to mimic them to some extent with what he had.

He had to make three trips from his home to New York.

The first one to buy the chemicals and bring them, the second one for the printer and other electronic parts, as well as tools he would use for the modifications.

And the third one to buy various things he thought would be useful, like disposable cell phones or some emergency clothing. Also, books on electronics and mechanics, and anything similar that he thought could be useful for learning.

Looking at the goggles in his hand, he couldn't help but have a thought.

A smile formed on his lips as he looked at the darkening sky with the sun setting in the distance.

maybe he could take a walk.

.

.

.

The night fell over New York, and with it began the nightlife.

In a dark alley, away from any prying eyes.

Three men armed with knives surrounded a woman in a corner.

The woman's body trembled, and fear could be seen in her eyes.

"Come on, sweetheart, don't be afraid. We're going to have a lot of fun together," the voice contained an unpleasant insinuation followed by a disgusting laugh.

Eyes lusting after the woman's body.

"You'll definitely enjoy it, darling, hahaha," another assailant spoke, laughing like a malnourished hyena.

The third one didn't say anything, but his tongue grazing his cracked lips and The desire in his eyes said enough about what he thought

The woman hugged herself tightly, her voice trembling in a final plea.

"P-please..."

Tears began to fall from her eyes as she watched them approach her.

From the top of the buildings, a figure observed what was happening with a cold gaze behind goggles.

Suddenly, the figure jumped, falling several meters to the ground swiftly.

BOOM!

The ground cracked, dust and debris flew, and the three assailants jumped in alarm, quickly turning towards the origin of the sound.

"What the hell!?"

"I need to improve my landings." a voice came from where the dust was rising, and slowly a a tall and well built figure emerged, taking firm steps.

Dressed in dark clothing, as well as a mask and a pair of goggles that concealed their features, the figure was barely identifiable, almost blending into the night.

The assailants couldn't even see them properly before, in the blink of an eye, the figure became blurry in a high-speed movement where the three couldn't react until their bodies were sent flying through the air.

They crashed into a wall several meters away from their previous position, their heads spinning in sudden dizziness.

One of them even started vomiting.

The figure approached the woman and asked a question in a soothing tone of voice.

"Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" The woman snapped out of her astonishment and stammered a response.

"I-I'm fine," she said, looking at the three men who were still writhing on the ground, swallowing saliva in an attempt to calm their nerves.

"That's good. You should get out of here and go home. I'll take care of them." the figure said, pointing at the criminals.

Then, began to walk towards them, and the woman prepared to leave, still with some lingering fear.

But before she left, she asked one final question.

"W-who are you?" Although her voice was somewhat low, the figure seemed to have heard her with perfect clarity. They paused for a moment before speaking.

"Just call me... Defiant."

.

.

.

"Shit! Shit!" The sound of the roaring engine echoed inside the car.

"Aahhh!" Screams and cries could be heard even through the noise.

The driver clenched his teeth, his eyes bloodshot, intensely focused on the road.

Every few seconds, his hand honked the horn, alerting any cars ahead to move aside.

Sweat dripped from the man's forehead, fear creeping into his core, causing his hands to threaten to tremble. But a voice from the backseat made his blood run cold and his nerves hardened with determination.

"D-daddy, I'm scared," a girl of no more than 5 years old cried, her brother just two years older, hugging her.

Both of them looked at their father, every jolt of the car sending tremors through their bodies.

"It's okay, you'll be okay, everything will be okay," the man didn't know what comforting words to give or what to say. He couldn't afford to be distracted, even if he wanted to console them.

He had to stay in control.

But despite his best efforts, the speeding car on the highway without brakes continued to lose stability.

It was with horror that he heard the sound of one of the tires bursting. Suddenly, the car made a sharp turn and began to flip over.

In the next instant, it would have crashed headfirst into the ground, rolling until it became scrap metal.

But instead, what happened was that a figure jumped out of the darkness, using both arms to hold the car from the side and firmly planting their feet on the ground.

The man inside looked with wide eyes as the figure held the car in the air before carefully lowering it down.

The family man inside swallowed saliva, feeling dizzy, and rubbed his eyes, unable to believe what he saw.

But something more important came to his mind, and he quickly turned his head back to see his children still in their seats, thanks to their seat belts.

The relieved sigh he let out almost seemed to deflate him.

Slowly, he opened the door and stumbled out of the car. He saw the figure of a man nodding at him.

"Are you alright?" The question made the father blink, he patted himself down and looked at his children through the window, who didn't seem injured beyond being scared and disheveled.

"Yeah, I think so," he finally said.

"That's good. Remember to check your car more carefully, any small malfunction can lead to very dangerous accidents." the man nodded, though he didn't say it, he didn't think he would be driving for a while.

The figure then turned to leave, and the man snapped out of his shock.

"Wait! Who, who are you?"

Without noticeable, a small smile formed on the figure's face.

"Just call me... Defiant..."

.

.

.

Similar events began to occur throughout the night, with people being saved from various situations, whether they were accidents or the work of criminals.

In all cases, one name kept repeating.

During that night and the following nights, that name began to spread until it reached the news.

"And with this, there have been over 40 cases with witnesses of the mysterious 'hero' who has been helping citizens these past nights. So far, a clear image of the hero has not been obtained, but the testimonies and evidence presented seem to indicate that this mysterious figure is more than real. With that said, we can only wonder, who is Defiant and why is he helping people?"

With that, the report continued, showing some of the few captured images or evidence of the hero's existence.

Carol Kent watched the images attentively while having breakfast.

The morning news had never caught her attention until these past few days, ever since the name Defiant started spreading and rumors about his "superhuman" feats.

She had paid attention then. She didn't know if they were just unfounded rumors or if there was some truth to them, but being who she was, the small hope and expectation that it might be real was something she couldn't shake off her mind.

"If you don't finish soon, you'll be late, dear," her mother's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

She turned her attention to her parents and then to the clock on the wall, noticing that she still had over ten minutes.

A smile formed on her lips.

"Mama, you know I can never be late," she said with a hint of pride in her voice.

Her father sighed.

"You shouldn't use your 'abilities' like that, Carol," his tone carried a slight reprimand.

Carol furrowed her brows with slight annoyance at his words, her smile slowly fading away.

Her mother quickly intervened with a soft voice.

"Come on honey, nothing's wrong, she just has to be careful, she knows it." her mother was the most understanding of her parents.

"Thank you, Mom," she said, smiling again.

"Just be careful, you can't keep running around like before. I heard that the old abandoned Evans farm has a new occupant again. Remember not to let anyone see you," her father said.

"The old farm? I thought no one would go there again," Carol said. The Evans farm had been unoccupied for a long time.

Carol usually wandered through its fields since they were quite secluded, and it helped that it was next to her parents' farm.

"I heard that the family had an accident or something, and apparently the Evans' grandson was the only one left, so he stays there now," her mother said with some compassion in her voice.

"Tragedies happen all the time, that's why we must be cautious," her father said, his gaze distant.

"Alright, I'll be careful not to 'run' near the Evans farm," Carol stood up, ready to leave.

Her father looked at her one last time before speaking.

"Just... be careful."

Carol paused at the door before turning and giving him a confident smile.

"Come on, Dad, you know nothing can harm me," she said, and with that, she disappeared in a blur of speed, leaving only a faint gust of air behind.

Jonathan Kent sighed, lowering his head and shaking it.

"I hope so," he said quietly, his eyes shining with concern as he watched the news on the television.

In one of the images shown as evidence, clearly visible handprints could be seen on the side of the car, as if human hands had been pressed with enough force against that metallic surface to deform it.

"I hope so..."

.

.

.

.

.

.