***
A few moments later, the dust from my crash-landing finally settled, and I blinked up at the circle of capes and cowls surrounding me. "So... I crash-landed here?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. All I got was a solemn nod from Superman himself—*the* Superman, Boy Scout incarnate, his blue eyes steady and kind under that perfect jawline.
It took a few heartbeats for my brain to catch up, but I managed to get a handle on the chaos. Then they bombarded me with information, a whirlwind of heroic exposition. Supergirl—ever the bundle of ecstatic energy—practically vibrated in place. "You're on Earth!" she beamed, her blonde ponytail bouncing. "Your pod had Kryptonian script etched on the sides. I was the first responder, and when I saw it... oh Rao, I knew it was another survivor from Krypton! We're not alone anymore!"
I got it, I really did. Finding out someone else from her dead planet had made it through? That had to hit like a cosmic lottery win. But boii, the truth was a cold bucket of water dumped on her hot dreams. Krypton was gone—shattered into cosmic dust. She and Kal had arrived years apart; she'd been here just a year herself. We were the last of our kind, or so they thought. Their faces softened with that tender, pitying concern, eyes wide as if waiting for me to shatter like fragile glass.
What was I supposed to do? Break down in tears? I stared back, dumbfounded. *Rule number one of transmigration: don't spill the meta beans.* No Kryptonian memories haunted my skull—no lost family estates, no crystal spires, no Rao-forsaken nostalgia. Krypton was just a Wikipedia stub to me, a dead world from comics I'd binged as a bored adult. All I could muster was a blank stare, my mind racing ahead thanks to the yellow sun already supercharging my veins.
*Regardless,* one thing was crystal clear: Wonder Woman was *hot*. Powerfully sculpted, like a goddess carved from marble and lightning. Supergirl's sunny glow? Killer. Even Hawkgirl in the shadows had that sleek edge. *Is the first rule of being a superhero 'must be stupidly attractive'?* The pressure hit hard. My face? Average at best—post-crash bedhead and all. *Am I the villain by default? The ugly one in the prophecy?*
And speaking of overpowered perks... my Kryptonian DNA was kicking in *fast*. Thoughts fired like machine-gun rounds, constructing and cataloging in seconds while the world crawled. I felt time stretch, my mind a razor-sharp processor. *Wow, this is bullshit levels of OP already.* Of course, Batman glowered from the shadows, his white lenses narrowing like I was already plotting a genocide. Classic Bat-paranoia.
Here I was, standing amid my childhood heroes—the *Justice League*. Inwardly, I was geeking out hard. *Is it awkward to ask for autographs? 'Hey, Supes, sign my pod? Bats, a Bat-signal selfie?'* My inner fanboy screamed, but outwardly, I played it cool. Until—
A sudden *prick* stabbed my mind, sharp as a needle. Flashes ripped through: *Mama! Mama!* A child's wail, small hands reaching. *Hmmm? Who told you to call me that?* The voice in my head snarled, cold and mechanical. *But... aren't yo— Don't call me that! You're Soldier Number 468. Never forget it!* The boy wept, broken apologies tumbling out. *I'm sorry... I'm sorry...*
"Hurghhh!" I staggered, knees buckling as rage—raw, volcanic—flooded my veins. Superman and Supergirl lunged forward, steadying me with gentle grips. "Whoa, easy! You okay?" Kal's voice rumbled, concern etching his All-American face. Kara's eyes widened. "What happened? Talk to us!"
The League tensed—Flash blurring into a ready stance, Wonder Woman's hand drifting to her lasso, Batman's cape flaring like a storm cloud. They braced for a fight, but the blood in my body turned to ice, then fire. I squeezed my eyes shut, then snapped them open. My mind sharpened to a killing edge; my body thrummed with power that demanded release.
I rose slowly, steadily, and locked my gaze on the green motherfucker—Goddamn Martian, Standing there with a guilt-ridden face " I apologise.." he came closer.
"You *dare*?!" I snarled, pointing a trembling finger. The apology died on his lips.
*Baammm!* My fist connected with his jaw like a meteor strike, shattering the sound barrier. He sprawled backward, skidding hundreds of meters through the dirt, carving a trench. Gasps rippled through the League. In a blink—faster than thought—I was on him, heat vision flickering at the edges of my rage-blinded sight. My face twisted into something feral. "You're *dead*, motherfucker."
******