Marvel:SuperHero

DareDevil Pov

As the chaos unfolded on the docks, I kept my distance, hidden in the shadows. My senses were honed, every movement of the criminals and the super-powered kid registered in vivid detail. I could hear the faint scuff of their boots, the sharp breaths of panic, and the echo of the kid's footsteps as he tore through the scene. His powers were nothing short of impressive—strength that defied logic, a presence that shook the air around him.

I watched as he effortlessly crushed the mobsters and sent them scattering like frightened mice. The kind of brute force he wielded was the kind of thing that made men like me question their place in this world. I could feel the air shift as the kid took control of the situation. And yet, even from the shadows, I couldn't help but notice something off about the way he carried himself. The cockiness, the gloating. He was enjoying it too much.

I stayed out of his line of sight, trying to process what I was witnessing. Sure, I had been on this street long enough to know there were always powers out there stronger than mine, but this kid… He was a force of nature, a one-man wrecking ball, and there was something about that that didn't sit right with me. Vigilantes like him had a way of pushing their luck.

The moment Bullseye arrived, though, I knew things were about to get a lot more interesting.

I'd tangled with Bullseye a few times before. He was a professional—dangerous, calculating, and he never missed. But the kid wasn't just any target.Watching as Bullseye pulled out his knives and pistols, I couldn't help but think, This isn't going to end well for him.

And I was right.

I could hear the frustration in Bullseye's voice as he threw everything he had at the kid, but it was like watching a man trying to fight a brick wall with a rubber band. Every knife bounced off the kid's skin like it was a joke. Bullseye's usual swagger—the cold, methodical confidence that made him one of the deadliest men on Earth—was gone, replaced by raw fear. That was a sight I had never seen before in him.

I could feel my own heartbeat quicken as the kid made his move. The kid was fast, moving with an effortless grace that defied gravity, and I could tell Bullseye was beginning to realize that this was one fight he couldn't win. As the helicopter descended, I knew I had to make a choice. Should I step in? Should I make myself known, or let this play out and see where it went?

The chopper blades whirred above us, and for a second, I thought about the consequences of kid's recklessness. He didn't seem to care about collateral damage—didn't even seem to realize that he was walking a fine line between hero and menace. I'd seen this kind of power before, and I knew how it could corrupt. Maybe not now, but eventually.

But there was no time to think about that now. The kid was on fire, and as I watched him take down Bullseye's helicopter with a single burst of heat vision, I knew this was going to be a night for the history books.

As Bullseye tried to flee, I noticed something that made me hesitate for just a fraction of a second—the look of sheer terror on his face. This was it—the moment he realized he was out of his league.

When the kid finally dropped down to the docks, smashing into the ground with the force of a meteor, I felt the impact resonate through the air. The entire situation was like a pressure cooker about to explode, and I could sense that the kid had just taken the first step toward something much bigger than himself.

I could feel the tension in the air, and for the first time in a long while, I wasn't sure what would happen next.

But one thing was clear. kid had just made his mark on this city—and I had a feeling that wouldn't be the last time we'd cross paths.

The night was still, but the storm had only just begun.

The kid—this kid—was a wrecking ball, and for some reason, that was both fascinating and terrifying.

I barely even noticed it at first, the way the air around me seemed to shift. But then, I felt it. That prickle of awareness on the back of my neck—the feeling that you're being watched. And just like that, I froze.

I knew the moment he spotted me.

the kid had his back to me, then, without warning, he snapped his head around. His eyes, glowing faintly from the heat of his own power, locked onto mine with an intensity that could've cut glass. There was no question—he saw me, and he knew I was there. For a split second, I couldn't move. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt an odd lump in my throat.

This kid was no ordinary powerhouse. No, he was sharp—too sharp. He must have sensed me in the shadows, heard the faintest shift in my breath. That kind of focus could be dangerous.

He wasn't saying anything. His gaze was enough. Like he was daring me to make the first move. There was a fire behind those eyes, a cocky confidence that could've rivaled any seasoned hero or villain. But unlike anyone else, this kid's stare seemed to say, I know you're there, and I'm not scared of you.

I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of flinching, so I just stood my ground, every muscle tensed.

it was time for me to speak up having been caught.

"Hey, kid," I said, my voice low and steady. "You don't even realize it, do you?"

"You're walking a fine line," I said, my tone sharp with warning. "You think you're a hero, but all I see is a ticking time bomb waiting to go off."

the kid's jaw tightened, a flicker of confusion flashing across his features. He didn't like being called out. But I wasn't about to back down now.

"I've seen this kind of power before," I continued, stepping forward into the light. "It doesn't take much to lose yourself in it. Maybe not now, maybe not today... but it'll get to you eventually. And when it does, you won't be saving anyone. You'll be hurting them. You didn't think about the mess you're making out here, did you? People are afraid of that kind of power. They don't trust it. You're making enemies whether you realize it or not."

the kid's face darkened, but there was something else in his eyes now—a flicker of doubt, like a seed of thought had been planted. He didn't respond immediately, the tension hanging between us thick. For the first time, I saw the faintest hint of hesitation in his posture.

I could see it. The kid was still figuring things out, still caught between being a hero and a weapon. The line was thinner than I wanted it to be.

"You're not invincible, kid. I've seen too many like you—too many who got drunk on power, thinking they were doing the right thing," I said, stepping even closer, my voice firm. "And I'm telling you right now, you don't want to become like them."

For a long moment, he said nothing, just staring at me like he was weighing my words against the life he was living. I could feel the shift in the air, the tension pulling tighter. I'd seen this before. That moment where a decision hung in the balance.

Then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone. the kid let out a frustrated exhale and turned his back on me, though not without a lingering glance. He was still processing it all, but something in his stance told me he wasn't quite as sure of himself as he'd been before.

As I watched him retreat, I couldn't help but feel a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Maybe I'd pushed him too hard. Maybe I'd just scared him off—hell, maybe it was too late for him already. The raw power, the lack of restraint... it could turn into something dangerous if left unchecked. And I wasn't sure if I'd made a difference. But as I faded back into the shadows, I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—I had planted a seed.

"Think about it, kid," I muttered to myself. "Before it's too late."

The kid's eyes narrowed as he processed my words. For a moment, I saw doubt flicker across his face. But then his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed.

"You don't know anything about me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm not some ticking time bomb. I'm here to help people, to save them from scum like Bullseye."

He gestured at the unconscious assassin on the ground. "Tell me how taking him down was wrong. Tell me how stopping criminals and saving lives is going to turn me into a villain."

I could hear the anger and frustration in his voice, but underneath it was something else - uncertainty. My words had struck a nerve.

"It's not about what you're doing, kid. It's how you're doing it," I replied calmly. "You're throwing your power around without thinking of the consequences. do you not understand how easy it is for you to accidently kill one of them? how you can accidently set fire to this place? they got weapons and explosives in these crates enough to level multipule city blocks. YOU got lucky you didnt set them off killing god knows how many innocent people."

The kid's eyes flashed with anger, but I could see the doubt creeping in. My words had hit home.

"You don't understand," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "I have these powers for a reason. I'm meant to use them to help people, to stop criminals like Bullseye."

"And how many innocents could you have hurt in the process?" I countered. "Those crates are full of explosives. One stray blast of heat vision and you could have leveled city blocks. Is that helping people?"

He flinched at that, looking around at the destruction he'd caused. For the first time, uncertainty clouded his face.

"I...I didn't think about that," he admitted reluctantly. "But I'm still learning, okay? I'm figuring this out as I go."

"That's exactly my point, kid," I said, softening my tone. "Having power isn't enough. You need wisdom to use it responsibly. Otherwise you'll wind up hurting people."

"You can't just figure it out as you go when you have this much power. One mistake could cost innocent lives."

The kid's fists clenched at his sides. "So what am I supposed to do? Just sit back and let criminals like Bullseye run free?"

"No," I replied. "But you need to be smarter about it. More careful. You need training and guidance."

"From who?" he scoffed. "You?"

I shook my head. "Not me.

But there are people out there who know what it means to walk that line. People who have been where you are now. They'll help you learn to control it. To make better choices."

The kid looked down for a moment, conflicted. I could see his mind racing, the weight of the situation sinking in. He wasn't sure who to trust, but for the first time since I'd met him, I saw a flicker of realization behind his eyes. Maybe he wasn't as sure of himself as he thought. Maybe the weight of the power he wielded was starting to hit him, and he wasn't sure how to handle it.

"Look, kid," I said, my voice gentle now. "You've got potential, but you've got to rein it in. There are consequences for every choice you make. You don't want to be the kind of hero who leaves a trail of destruction behind him. Think about it. You could be something bigger, something better. Don't let your power control you. You've got to control it."

He clenched his jaw, obviously frustrated with himself, but the anger had dimmed, replaced by something closer to introspection. He took a deep breath, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, less certain.

"Maybe... maybe you're right."

I nodded, feeling a small flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this kid could turn things around.

"But I'm still going to stop guys like Bullseye," he added, his tone hardening slightly. "I'm not going to let them hurt anyone else."

I could see the resolve in his eyes, but there was something different about it now. It wasn't the reckless anger I had seen before. It was something more focused, tempered by the hesitation I had seen just moments ago.

"Just… be careful, kid," I said softly. "You don't want to become something worse than what you're trying to stop."

He nodded, slowly, and then without another word, he turned and walked away. There was no fanfare, no dramatic exit—just a kid trying to figure out who he was and what kind of hero he was going to be.

I stayed where I was, hidden in the shadows once again, watching him disappear into the night. I didn't know if I had truly made a difference, but I had planted the seed of doubt in his mind. And sometimes, that's all you can do.

As for me, I'd be keeping an eye on him. If he fell off that fine line between hero and menace, I'd be there to pull him back. Because I knew what it was like to walk that line, and I knew it wasn't as easy as it seemed.

"Think about it, kid," I muttered to myself again, watching the distant figure of Superboy fade into the night. "Before it's too late."

SuperBoy Pov

As our favorite superhero heads to the hotel with the stolen money in hand, his thoughts churn with the weight of Daredevil's words. He can't shake the feeling that there's more to the vigilante's warning than just paranoia or some old hero's lecture. He's been in this game for a while now, but this whole thing with Daredevil, the power he's wielding, it's making him question his approach.

The hotel lobby was empty, the kind of place that smelled like stale carpet and faded memories. He paid the front desk clerk with the thugs' money, making it look casual, like it wasn't bloodstained from his hands. The clerk gave him a half-hearted smile as he slid the key card across the counter. No one cared about the guy paying for a room with someone else's cash—people were too busy worrying about their own problems. But in his head, everything was different.

As he made his way up to his room, each step seemed to echo louder than the last. He couldn't stop replaying the encounter with Daredevil.

"You're walking a fine line."

Those words had been like a cold bucket of water thrown over him. He wasn't just some kid with too much power. No, he was the one in the middle of this mess, the one in control, and that had always been the case—until tonight.

What Daredevil had said about power, about getting lost in it, that was a warning that sounded far too close to the truth.

The kid paced around the small hotel room, trying to shake off the feeling that he was being watched even though he was alone. He had always been the one who made the rules, who controlled the situation. But the way Daredevil had stared at him, the way he spoke like he knew exactly what he was becoming, was enough to make him second-guess everything.

Had he been too reckless? Too confident? Daredevil was right in some ways. Sure, he'd taken down Bullseye without breaking a sweat, but what about the collateral damage? What about the lives that hung in the balance with every blast of heat vision? What if his fight had triggered a chain reaction, starting fires or setting off explosives? He had been so caught up in the action, the adrenaline, the thrill of finally feeling like he was making a difference, that he hadn't stopped to think about the consequences.

He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the wall. For a second, he felt small—like a kid playing dress-up in a world too big for him. This wasn't just about taking down the bad guys anymore. It was about something much bigger, something he didn't fully understand.

He thought back to the thugs, the ones whose money he'd stolen. They had been no better than scum, but were they any different from the criminals who had gotten him into this life in the first place? Hadn't he once been like them, scraping by, doing whatever it took to survive?

Maybe he had been so focused on winning the battle that he forgot about the war—the long-term damage he could do by acting before thinking. Daredevil wasn't just talking about one reckless night. He was talking about the kind of hero you became if you didn't think before you acted.

He dropped down onto the bed, his mind racing.

"I'm not some ticking time bomb," he'd told Daredevil. But how could he be so sure? The line between hero and villain wasn't as clear as he once thought. The power he had, the same power that let him take down Bullseye with a single blow, was the same power that could wipe out everything in his path without a second thought.

And what if he started losing control? What if the thrill of being unstoppable overwhelmed the part of him that cared about doing the right thing? That was the part that Daredevil had warned him about. The darkness that could take over when you thought you were invincible.

The kid closed his eyes and sighed. Maybe he needed to take a step back. Maybe he needed to rethink his whole approach to this thing. It wasn't enough to just stop the bad guys. He had to do it in a way that protected everyone, not just himself. He couldn't afford to be the hero who burnt everything to the ground just to put out a fire.

He pulled the hotel blanket over his legs, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"Think about it, kid," Daredevil had said.

Maybe he would. Maybe it was time to start listening.

But first, he had a lot to learn.

As the days passed, the streets buzzed with rumors, gossip, and the kind of chatter that filled every corner of the city. News stations ran footage of the docks, showing the massive destruction, the helicopter that had plummeted to the ground, and the chaos left behind in the wake of the battle. But it wasn't just the destruction that grabbed headlines—it was the person responsible for it.

The kid—Superboy, as the media had now dubbed him—had become an overnight sensation.

The early morning news anchor's voice echoed through the room, the crisp sound of the report filling the air.

"...in what appears to be a growing trend of vigilante activity, a new figure has emerged on the scene. The man—or rather, the boy—who took down notorious assassin Bullseye last night is being hailed by some as a hero and by others as a menace."

A blurry video clip flashed on the screen—grainy, shaky footage of the helicopter crashing and the silhouette of a figure standing in the wreckage, the faint outline of a symbol on his chest. The "S" was unmistakable, and the journalists had wasted no time tagging him with the name the thugs had used: Superboy.

"New reports suggest that this mysterious figure, who single-handedly disabled Bullseye's helicopter in mid-flight, may not have any formal training. Experts warn, however, that his lack of restraint could pose a significant danger to the city in the future."

Across the city, news outlets speculated about the true nature of the new hero. Some embraced the idea of a savior in the streets—someone who could fight the city's scum with a force even the police couldn't match. The "S" on his chest had people speculating about his origins. Was he a product of some secret government experiment? A new kind of weapon? Or was he simply a kid who got lucky?

But there were others who weren't as keen to see him as a hero.

In the office of the Daily Bugle, a headline screamed across the front page: "The Rise of Superboy: Hero or Hazard?"

"This new kid is out of control," a local police officer was quoted as saying in the article. "Sure, he took down Bullseye, but what about the rest of the mess he left behind? Explosives, fires, collateral damage? How long until he levels an entire neighborhood because of his 'good intentions?'"

Across the city, forums, social media, and street corners buzzed with debate. The thugs who had been there, who had seen Superboy in action, began to talk. According to them, he had fought with the kind of fire that left them shaking in their boots. A power unlike anything they'd ever seen—a kid who had fought like a man on a mission.

"He didn't even flinch when Bullseye pulled out those knives," one thug said in an interview with a local news outlet. "The guy's like a freakin' juggernaut. I thought we were all dead when that kid started tearing through us like that. He's got the power of a freight train, but I swear to God, he's got the attitude of someone who thinks he's invincible. That 'S' on his chest? We call him Superboy, but I'm not sure he even knows what he's doing."

Back at the hotel, as the kid lay on the bed, News outlets had run with the story, building him up as a new symbol of hope, but none of them had any idea what it had cost him to pull off what he did.

The 'hero' label was a double-edged sword. He hadn't asked for it. He hadn't been trying to start a movement. Yet here it was—Superboy—splashed across the front page of every news outlet, the name ringing in his ears like a weight he wasn't ready to carry.

The press was already labeling him as some sort of symbol, an unstoppable force for good, and the more people cheered him on, the more the pressure built. He hadn't even thought twice about the mess he had caused. Now, with the whole city looking at him, every choice seemed magnified. He'd thrown punches without considering the consequences, but now people were looking to him as if he was some kind of messiah, someone who could make the world a better place.

But was he ready for that?

The media's portrayal was black and white—hero or villain. But life, as Daredevil had pointed out, wasn't that simple. He wasn't some perfect soldier, some flawless hero. He was just a kid, trying to make sense of his powers and the world around him.

But the more the media painted him as Superboy, the more the kid realized he couldn't just keep acting without thinking. The stakes were higher now, and the line between being a hero and a ticking time bomb was looking thinner by the day.

As the world continued to debate whether Superboy was the hero the city needed or a ticking time bomb waiting to explode, the kid sat in his hotel room, looking at the headlines. He wasn't sure what the future held. But one thing was for sure—Daredevil was right. He had a lot to learn.

And now, he wasn't just fighting for justice. He was fighting for his own soul.

The kid sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the cool surface of the hotel desk. "Alright," he muttered to himself, "I can't keep winging it like this. I need someone who knows what they're doing—someone who can show me the ropes." He glanced down at the phone in his hand, scrolling through possible places on google. "Maybe... maybe there's a gym I can check out. Or maybe even some people who've been at this longer than I have. I can't keep screwing up like this. I've gotta get smarter." He sighed, throwing the phone on the bed. "First, I find a place to train. Then... I figure out how not to burn down half the city."

The kid leaned back in the chair, rubbing his temples as if trying to will away the frustration. Training. He needed real training. And fast. He wasn't getting anywhere with just street fights and instinct.

Then, something clicked.shang chi

he read the marvel comics he remeber shang chi

He remembered the the grace, the power in each movement. Shang-Chi's focus had been unmatched, his control over his abilities something the i could barely imagine.

"Maybe…" the kid muttered, "maybe someone like him could teach me. I need more than just strength. I need discipline."

He rubbed the back of his neck, realizing how far he was from being like that. It wasn't just about power. It was about knowing when to use it, how to use it.

The kid sat up, his eyes heavy from lack of sleep. He'd spent most of the day laying low, staying in the hotel room, but his mind had been racing. The echoes of Daredevil's words haunted him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing control. The idea of K'un-Lun—a mystical city that could offer training beyond anything he could imagine—kept gnawing at him. Shang-Chi. The name bounced in his mind. A living legend of martial arts, someone who could teach him how to wield his powers with discipline, someone who could show him how to walk the line between hero and weapon. The more he thought about it, the more it felt like the only path forward. That night, he grabbed a backpack, threw on his jacket, and left the hotel room without a second glance. If K'un-Lun was really meant to be found by those destined for it, maybe he could find his way there too. The Himalayas. He knew that was the key. It was a long shot, but it was all he had. With a deep breath, he focused his energy and flew into the air. The winds whipped against him as he ascended, his speed cutting through the clouds. The cold, bitter air nipped at his skin, but he didn't care. He had a purpose now. Hours later, he landed at the foot of the towering Himalayan peaks. The landscape was vast, beautiful, and desolate—an endless stretch of snow and rock. It felt... right. He could feel it, deep in his bones. The pull, the connection to something greater. Maybe this was the place where destiny would find him. He trekked through the mountains, climbing higher, searching, hoping. The silence of the snow-capped peaks was deafening, broken only by his footsteps crunching in the snow. Hours passed, but the city remained elusive. As he climbed a particularly treacherous ridge, he felt a presence—a shift in the air, subtle but undeniable. He turned and found himself face-to-face with a figure standing atop a stone outcrop. The man was dressed in traditional martial arts robes, his posture poised and confident. Shang-Chi. The kid blinked, surprised but not entirely shocked. After all, if anyone would be able to find K'un-Lun, it would be someone like him. Someone who had lived it. "You've been searching for K'un-Lun," Shang-Chi said, his voice calm and steady, as if he'd known the kid would come. The kid nodded, his throat dry with a mixture of awe and nervousness. "I... I don't know if I'm ready. But I need help. I'm losing control. My powers, they're too much for me. I need someone who can show me how to use them... how to be more than just a wrecking ball." Shang-Chi studied him for a long moment, his eyes assessing, thoughtful. "K'un-Lun does not grant its secrets to just anyone. It demands discipline, respect, and a willingness to learn. But..." He paused, his gaze softening slightly. "If you are truly destined to find it, the city will open its doors. And if you're ready, perhaps there is much you can learn." The kid's heart raced. This was it—the moment that could change everything. "So... you'll help me? Train me?" Shang-Chi nodded once. "I will guide you, but the path you walk is ultimately yours to choose. The power you seek is nothing without the wisdom to wield it." "But you must prove yourself with a test. a test of your dedication your willingness to learn a test that will push you to the brink of mentally exhausted"

The kid felt a lump form in his throat. The weight of Shang-Chi's words hung heavily in the cold air. A test. His mind raced, wondering what it could entail. Was he ready for something like that? His powers had already overwhelmed him more than once, and now, he was about to face something that might push him even further.

But there was no turning back now.

"Anything," he said, his voice firm despite the anxiety gnawing at him. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Shang-Chi's gaze softened, his eyes showing a rare glimpse of understanding. "Good. You will need more than strength alone to succeed in this. It will demand everything from you—your mind, your body, and your spirit." He paused, stepping closer. "I will not make it easy, but you will emerge stronger. Or you will fail. The choice is yours."

The kid swallowed hard, nodding in agreement. "I'm ready. Just... show me what I have to do."

Shang-Chi gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Follow me."

He turned and began to walk towards the mountain pass, his footsteps silent in the snow. The kid, heart pounding, followed closely behind, wondering just how far this test would take him.