DC: Rise of the Kryptonian Tyrant

The young man who had just burst in wore a beret and looked no older than seventeen or eighteen. His face was dotted with unusual yellow freckles. With one hand gripping the beret and the other pushing the door open, he blurted out anxiously:

"Master! I can't find him!"

But instead of meeting his master's gaze, the boy's eyes landed on Butler Bradbury. His neck stiffened immediately, and his eyes widened with dread.

He was terrified of the butler.

After all, it was Bradbury who had trained him since childhood to serve the Zatara family and assist Master Zatara. The boy realized, too late, that his frantic entrance had been far from proper. He felt a sinking sense of regret; he knew he'd be lectured about decorum later.

The thought nearly made him want to cry.

Sure enough, Bradbury's brow furrowed slightly. His face remained impassive, but his sharp gaze turned icy. The boy knew he was in trouble. Still, with the young master present, the butler said nothing. The reprimand would come later.

"Can't find him? That's fine."

Zatara shrugged his thin shoulders, his tone flat and disinterested.

He had hoped to meet that superhuman. It was a pity. He'd never encountered someone like that before.

The man's life energy field had been extraordinary, far stronger than that of the ten thousand people in the venue combined. If life energy could be compared to light, then Bardi was a miniature sun, radiating a brilliance that dwarfed the dim glow of everyone else.

How strong could such a person become?

The moment Zatara laid eyes on Bardi, it was like discovering an alien species on Earth—intriguing, unfamiliar, and exciting. He'd never seen anyone like that outside of the magical world.

Was Bardi a metahuman? A mutant with a rare genetic gift? Or did his powers stem from an entirely different source, something unknown to both science and magic?

And yet, despite his overwhelming physical power, Bardi's magical resistance was shockingly weak.

With the right adjustments, enhancing his magical defenses, erasing his memory, or even implanting a magical reset, he could become a formidable tool. A physical powerhouse to send into dangerous realms: tracking anomalies, exploring other dimensions, or even venturing into Hell itself to test infernal boundaries.

There were also more sinister possibilities. Dark magic rituals could swap souls, cleanse the body, and grant an aging sorcerer like Zatara a fresh vessel. Such practices extended lifespans by generations.

But those techniques were forbidden, inhuman, cruel, and tainted by malice. They were the domain of rogue magicians who abandoned all morality in pursuit of power.

Zatara merely entertained the thought. His moral compass, despite his arrogance and disdain for authority, remained intact. He prided himself on being a decent man, even if he viewed most other magicians as talentless hacks.

Unfortunately, his actions had already left Bardi wary.

To Bardi, Zatara came across as reckless, a man who manipulated the minds of ten thousand people just for show. Immature, irresponsible, and dangerous.

Initially, Bardi had considered approaching Zatara after the magic show. He had read about the magician and knew of his reputation as a hero. Perhaps he could be persuaded—or deceived—into helping with the upcoming confrontation against Jor-El.

But after witnessing Zatara's casual use of psychic influence on the crowd, Bardi abandoned that plan.

Magic was unpredictable, and Zatara's mastery of it presented an unforeseen threat. Bardi realized he might have to fight the magician long before he ever faced Jor-El.

He didn't enjoy feeling vulnerable.

So, he decided to retreat and gather more information about Zatara, his personality, his capabilities, and his weaknesses. Only then would he decide on the best approach.

Intimidation, coercion, and violence were on the table. But so were flattery, deception, and genuine diplomacy. Whatever worked best.

He needed better intel. His prior research had been far too shallow.

The moment Bardi spotted Zatara's assistant approaching, he and Mike had left Madison Square Garden without looking back.

He refused to stand under a crumbling wall, waiting for it to crush him.

As Bardi left, he noticed the assistant boy chasing after him. The boy's steps were unnaturally swift, magic-enhanced, no doubt. The wind seemed to carry him forward, allowing him to move far faster than any ordinary person. Still, it wasn't nearly enough. Bardi easily left him behind.

Even after shaking off the pursuit, Bardi continued circling Manhattan at random. He wasn't sure how badly they wanted to find him, whether they had magical means to track him, or what exactly Zatara's curious, excited gaze had signified.

Now wasn't the time for direct contact. He couldn't be certain if Zatara would help him, nor could he predict how magic might be used against him.

He kept his super-hearing active the entire time. From blocks away, he'd overheard Zatara's conversation with the butler and the assistant. The trio hadn't cast any spells to mask their words, never considering that someone standing somewhere in Manhattan might be listening.

Night had fallen. Manhattan's skyline was awash with glowing lights, and the city hummed with its usual nighttime vibrancy.

Bardi stood in a quiet, dimly lit corner of the city. Here, the streetlights cast a dull yellow glow over cracked pavement and neglected alleys. Every metropolis, no matter how prosperous, had these forgotten pockets, dark corners where crime once flourished unchecked.

A cool breeze stirred his coat, the hem swaying with the wind. He closed his eyes, waiting for Mike to arrive with the car.

His mind drifted as he stood there. He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice two men stumbling into the nearby alley.

They were dressed in suits, though both were disheveled and stained with alcohol. Their ties hung loose, their jackets wrinkled. The two leaned on each other as they staggered past, breath reeking of liquor. Their slurred conversation echoed faintly:

"There's a... hic... a woman!"

"High schooler? She's so young."

"Hic... flat chest though."

"I like that... let's take her to a hotel."

"No... right here works."

The metallic clink of a belt buckle being undone followed.

Bardi heard it all. He was only a few steps away. If he wanted to play hero, this was the perfect moment.

But he remained motionless.

His eyelids didn't even twitch.

He wasn't a hero. He didn't feel compelled to intervene unless it suited him. Empathy wasn't a switch he left on all the time. If he felt like helping, he would. If he didn't... even if it was happening right beside him, he wouldn't bother.

Suddenly—

"Ahhhhhh!"

A shrill, terrified scream tore through the night.

The drunk men shrieked in terror.

"She's got four eyes!" one of them howled.

"It's a demon! A demon!"

The alcohol-fueled haze vanished from their faces as panic seized them. They stumbled out of the alley, tripping over themselves as they scrambled toward the street. Their wide, bloodshot eyes radiated pure terror. They passed by Bardi, panting and trembling, too scared to even notice him.

And at the moment they screamed, Bardi felt it.

Something in that alley stirred—an ancient, malevolent presence that radiated oppressive power.

The air shifted. A torrent of magical energy erupted like a dam collapsing, flooding the area.

Bardi's body reacted instinctively. His cells flared with activity, surging in resistance to the unseen force. His skin burned as though submerged in ice water. Adrenaline surged through his veins; his senses sharpened until every detail around him became painfully clear.

The crackling static of the streetlight overhead. The faint, smoky scent of the city air. The microscopic dust particles brushing against his skin.

His heart raced, muscles coiled, ready to spring into action.

The oppressive magic pressed down like an invisible weight, suffocating and immense.

Zatara's magical aura had been like a bucket of water compared to the oceanic pressure now emanating from that alley.

Bardi's pupils contracted. His gaze snapped toward the darkness beyond the streetlight's reach.

There, in that alley—

There was something... no, someone... radiating magic strong enough to kill him.

***

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