You Want to Be Superman Too?

Squeal!

Tire friction screeched across the empty suburban highway, echoing far into the distance.

A faint burnt-rubber smell hung in the air as the old red pickup truck fishtailed into a sharp turn, trying to dodge the figure lunging from above.

Midair, that figure twisted with impossible force from the waist, reaching with five fingers to grab the roof—but only grazed it, missing by a hair.

Screech!

A piercing metal scrape overhead.

The pickup careened off the road. David braked, and Clark got out.

The figure who'd just made a move suicidal for any normal person didn't land bloody and broken. Like a nimble flea, he twisted easily and landed steady on his feet.

"Gregg?"

Black leather jacket, slicked-back blond hair, a familiar profile—before the man fully turned, Clark recognized him and blurted, "Why are you attacking us!"

Seeing Gregg's unnatural agility, a bad feeling stirred in his gut as he asked.

"I heard something happened to your mother. Was it you?"

"She got in my way. You're next."

Gregg turned slowly, as if confident as a spider facing prey already tangled in its web, no rush to strike again. He let out a cold laugh.

"Are you insane?"

Clark couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could someone be this evil? "She's your mother."

"You and I are no longer on the same level of life."

The once timid, reclusive Gregg now seemed to radiate from every pore the aura of an apex predator standing at the top of the food chain, looking down on all other life.

"Now, I'm bound by no morals or rules!"

He spread his arms, contempt pouring from his core, voice rising.

"I'm ahead of you. Ahead of everyone!"

"You want to be Superman too?"

David pulled his gaze from the five clear scratches gouged into the truck's roof paint, his voice cold and mocking.

Facing a Son of Krypton and an Eternal, and claiming to be ahead of everyone in life level?

Anger from Gregg +0.18, +0.17...

"David, you're asking for death."

Stung by the blunt mockery, Gregg flew into a rage.

David stayed calm.

This guy gave more emotion points than Jeremy—because he was stronger?

"Listen, Gregg, you need treatment!"

Clark tried to calm him down, hoping it was a mental issue that could be fixed, that the cold, mad version of him could be turned back.

Whoosh!

"Treatment?"

"You're the ones who need to be eliminated!"

Gregg moved like a ghost, leaving an afterimage in place as he swung a fist at David, power howling through the air.

"David, no!"

Caught off guard mid-attack, Clark noticed David's expression seemed even colder than last time and shouted.

Gregg thought Clark was worried for his brother. Seeing David standing there as if not yet reacting, his eyes gleamed with cold cruelty.

"I'll take you out first."

Thud!

The moment before the punch landed, David stood still, like he was facing a flying bug—didn't even blink.

The next instant, as if struck by an ancient battering ram, a fist like lightning shot out faster than the incoming blow and slammed into Gregg's chest.

Bam bam bam.

Gregg flew back faster than he'd come, shot across the highway, and crashed heavily into the grass a dozen meters away, tumbling several more times before stopping.

"Gregg?"

Clark rushed to look, afraid David had killed him.

By the roadside, David stood expressionless, his skin tinged purple, veins like earth's ravines surfacing on his jaw, his presence imposing and fierce.

"What bit you?"

Gregg scrambled up from the ground, staring at David's appearance, eyes full of shock and suspicion.

He'd been bitten by a meteorite-dusted bug, shed his skin, and evolved. David's purple skin—what animal had bitten him?

He wasn't even hurt much.

David lifted an eyelid, mildly surprised. This Gregg was tougher than he looked—he'd held back too much.

He stared at him like he was an idiot, his tone flat. "No idea what you're talking about."

These people mutated by Kryptonite—were their brains fried too?

"Your strength's not enough to hurt me."

Gregg kicked off the ground, dirt flying, his body shooting forward like a cannonball. Wind howled as he swung another punch; before the fist even landed, the air compressed under its terrifying force, suffocating.

"You know a dung beetle can push twelve hundred times its own body weight?"

His eyes gleamed with pride, his face full of murderous intent.

"Stop, Gregg. You've lost your mind."

Clark blurred into motion, faster than a roaring Space Shuttle, intercepting mid-path to block the attack for his brother.

But Gregg's strength was fiercer than he'd imagined.

Boom!

The fist slammed into his face. Clark flew back like a meteor, crashing dozens of meters away.

David glanced at the Son of Krypton getting knocked aside. He knew Clark had held back again and paid for it.

"Afraid the other guy'll smash into a Steel Wall like a normal person and get hurt, so he ends up getting sent flying like always—the God Among Men who can't stop eating dirt."

Without pausing, Gregg charged on, raising his fist like a boulder about to fall, ready to shatter David's head like a watermelon.

Boom!

David turned his head, almost lazily lifting his palm to catch the fist mid-strike.

The savage force hit like a tiny wave against an unmoving cliff—stopped dead.

Whoosh!

A white shockwave blasted dust across the road. The hard asphalt pavement shattered, leaving a crater several meters wide. Gravel flew out like bullets, crackling and snapping.

At the road's edge, Clark, who'd just returned, had to shield his eyes.

"Dung beetle?" David said. "Sorry, I'm not interested in bugs."

With that, he squeezed. Like a Hydraulic Press exerting hundreds of tons of force.

"Ahhh!"

A crisp crack of bone. Gregg's hand was crushed. He screamed in agony, collapsing to his knees.

Shattered bone pierced flesh. A warm, sticky wetness seeped from his palm.

David casually let him go and glanced at his bloodied hand—red mixed with green, slightly viscous.

"What, did a bug bite you and mutate you?"

Recalling Gregg's earlier words, he frowned, a little disgusted.

"Die!"

Gregg's finger bones were shattered, bent at unnatural angles. His genetic instinct flared with savagery. His other hand swung in a sneak punch at David—but hit nothing.

Shwoosh!

David wasn't surprised. He flickered behind him.

With reflexes far beyond normal, Gregg burst into astonishing speed, swinging a punch that kicked up a gale. He spun and threw another, nearly matching David's pace.

Boom!

"Pretty fast."

David grabbed his arm, raising an eyebrow in surprise. He snapped it like breaking a corn stalk—effortless.

"But then again, if annoying bugs weren't quick, how would they survive?"

"Ahh, my arm!"

Both arms crippled, Gregg collapsed in agony, face twisted.

"No... impossible. Why can you break my arm so easily?"

When he'd woken up, he'd tested his abilities. His bones were as hard as steel—like some beetle with an exoskeleton. But under David, they snapped like twigs.

"A bug that picks a fight with humans—you should know what happens next."

Not interested in answering his question, David moved to strike again.

A flash. Clark rushed forward, blocking Gregg, raising a hand to stop him.

"Don't kill him."