A thin fog continuously rises from a platinum chalice containing a liquid substance - kept cold and always on the brink of freezing over by the mystic ice that lays at the very bottom of its wielder's choice of drink. Fanciful as it may be, the beverage is nothing so extravagant. No. As a matter of fact, it's merely the usual for Connor Luthor: Apple juice. A sweet drink he's been awfully fond of for over 3 decades now. He brings the chalice up to his lips and helps himself to subtle, yet savoring sips from it. Audibly gulping the portion he drinks before eventually prying it away from his lips. Satisfactory as always. His tongue protrudes from his moist petals to lick away the lingering taste from his lips.

  Though his favorite drink invigorates his nonchalant mood, he cannot help but to peer out through the massive trio of windows behind his desk - glass that gives a pleasant view of the bustling city known as Metropolis City - and contemplate silently. He sits within a comfy office chair inside the largest building in town, and on the most secure floor of Lex Tower. His mind pondering on one thing in particular. Were they really giving up so easily?

  Those... rowdy lots. Those maniacs, psychos, entitled punks who refer to themselves as 'Heroes'. A laughable notion. However, what is truly breathtakingly amusing is the sheer audacity they all have. It's so overbearing, that Connor HAD to intervene and crack down upon their senseless altercations. For some reason or another, they were territorial like warring gangs. He has done so by way of something quite akin to a police state. An idea he took from the aging Dark Knight himself all the way over in Gotham City. Hard-to-destroy robots and 15-feet-tall mech suits were very ideal for keeping local superpowered troublemakers in check. The MCPD has never had an easier time apprehending offenders, and civilians were given back some safety in their day to day lives again.

  So, was this it? Is this the simple Happy Ending that was meant to be all along?

  K R O O O O M ! ! !

  He turns his head just a bit while also raising a brow curiously. That loud rumble he hears coming from down below on the first floor of his building tells him: No, it was definitely not meant to be THAT simple.

  "About time." He murmurs to himself before setting his sights forward again. Even as his secretary's voice comes through the intercom speaker on his desk.

  "S-sir! Sir! Reports of intruders breaking inside are coming up. Would you like me to dispatch the 10th level security droids?" She asks. To which Connor responds calmly with;

  "No, there's no need for that at all, Jane. I suspect they're here to see me..." He pauses, shifting his eyes toward the chalice in his grasp before giving the liquid inside a gentle stir by moving his hand in a circular motion.

  "Let them through and tell me that I'll be waiting for them in my office." He adds.

  "Understood, Mr. Luthor." His secretary obliges without Question. For the time being, he remains as he is. From the city streets where civilians resemble ants under his gaze, and up toward the clouds above that obscure the sun's ray of light - he merely passes the times by watching birds fly through the sky.

  Soon, a myriad of footsteps begins treading toward his direction - just after a familiar 'Ding!' that signifies the elevator arriving. Several of them, in fact. Connor is almost sure there were enough of them to make use of all seven that line up against the wall on the opposite end of the floor. Not that he minds... Not that it makes him feel as though anything will change because of it. 'CLICK.' Soon enough, the sound of the handles of his double onyx-wood doors turning graces his ears and the bunch come storming in.

  "Luthor!" A voice calls out to him - a pitch just low enough to give the impression of belonging to a male - calls out to him, dousing his dreadful surname with venom. Nothing that bothers him at all, though.

  "And here you are. I've been expecting you." Connor responds without even bothering to turn in his seat and face them.

  "Did you find your way up without trouble?" He adds with feign concern.

  "Cut the crap, ya flippin' desk-humper! None of us here find any of this funny." Another voice chimes in. One much deeper and aggressive in volume.

  "Well, except me. I find this little visit to be at least somewhat amusing. Because the thing is... Deep down inside, I knew you lot would retaliate in some drastic way. I just didn't know how you'd go about it, or when you'd do it. Haha-Never did I consider the possibility that you would just come directly to ME." Connor responds, then takes a moment to gently swish his drink around his cup again.

  "You're either desperate or foolish. Perhaps even both." He adds as if merely sharing a harmless theory.

  "You think you're so smart - soooo much like Lex Luthor himself, don't cha'? Just listen to the way you talk! Were you EVER actually a hero to begin with?" The first voice from before questions - its owner pointing an accusing finger at the kryptonian who keeps his back to them all.

  "Like my father? Heh.... Heh-HAHAHAHA... Hehaha... H'ooooh.... No-no. I couldn't be anything like my predecessor at all. Far too ruthless than I will ever have the nerve to be. No, all I can be is myself. If you happen to see similarities? Well..." Connor trails off, sparing a moment to rise from his seat and circle around his desk to face the army of superpowered beings that pack half of his massive office space - a room of slick gray and black that provides a sense of serene gloom. There looks to be at least a little over 100 of them in his line of sight. Not that the numbers impose doubt into his mind... Casually, he raises his cup to his lips again and drinks a bit more of the juice. Afterwards, he concludes his thoughts.

  "It's merely a coincidence that I cannot help. I am a branch that extends from his family tree, after all."

  "So it's just a coincidence that you'll also get your ass handed to you just like he did, huh? 'Cause that's what's about to happen!" A rowdy feminine voice speaks up, of whom is validated by encouraging yells from her peers.

  Before uttering another word, Connor shifts his gaze toward the ice-hexagon in his cup. At his will, his eyes abruptly illuminate red and discharge his heat-vision with precision. Somewhat slowly melting down the magical frozen liquid until it's reduced to its original form and dilutes his beverage. By the time he's done, fiery red smoke flow from his sockets.

  "There's a misunderstanding about my father that lingers through..."He pauses. Turning his still burning red eyes toward the crowd, who in turn take up defensive stances as if he was pointing a weapon at them - not with anger or a scowl, but curiosity hidden behind a stoic expression.

  "Well, I certainly cannot call you the 'Hero Community'. But nonetheless, it's not that Lex Luthor was incompetent... It was just the nature of this world. I won't bore you with too much detail, though. In short - there had to be at least some force of good that could stand up to his intellect and schemes, because in this universe of ours, good ALWAYS wins. As that, it will eternally remain."

  "Ehh... A bit pretentious, but still sounds like you're in for an ass-kicking if you don't recall all of your stupid robots." Someone from the crowd retorts.

  "Yeah, man! Where do you get off making life for superheroes difficult? How am I suppose to manage under these conditions?" Another questions angrily.

  "Don't play coy... You all know exactly why I've been doing this." Connor responds with an aloof tone.

  "Because you're an uppity glory hog who thinks his old, washed up brand of heroes are somehow better than us? We deserve a chance, too!" Another speaks up.

  "What? You're all so deluded and so self-absorbed that you cannot even reach a genuine reasonable conclusion. This isn't the wild west... We do not live in a third-world country... We are not beasts and monsters... We do not fight over territory like animals in the wild. But if you so stubbornly see things from a different perspective, then I have only one thing to ask you..." Connor informs them, but before he does, he downs the very last bit of his drink from the chalice, then sets the cup down onto his desk. Afterwards, he treads forward until he's merely four feet away from the massive mob.

  "What exactly are you going to do about it?"

  "You cheeky little bastard! Don't cha see WE have the numbers in this situation? We could bring this whole building crumblin' down on your head. This is yer last chance to come down off of that high horse, punk."

  "Hmph." The kryptonian's lips curve into a smug grin at such a claim. While moving his arms behind his back and keeping them in place by gripping his left hand around his right wrist, he looks around the room. From the simple gray walls, to the pitch-black marble floor beneath their feet.

  "Did you know this floor is unlike the others? It's a very, very interesting one. Because, well... It's more expensive than the building itself. 1.2 trillion dollars went into fortifying this floor. An amount accumulated over the course of 23 years."

  "That's insane! But what exactly does that have to do with anything?" Someone asks.

  "Simple. If you know Lex Luthor, then you can guess this floor was built to withstand the powers of a kryptonian. It would take a great deal of effort even for me to destroy it with my bare hands. Even the windows aren't made from typical material... This whole floor is more durable than the entire Earth itself."

  "Wha-- I call absolute Bullshit on that!"

  "I welcome you all to prove it." Connor invites while throwing up his arm in a spread horizontal fashion, still grinning ear to ear as he does. Seconds after, he brings his arms inward - bending them at chest-level as he clenches his hands into fists.

  "Prove to me that you're on the side of righteousness and all that is good. Show me that your collective will exceed the entirety of my being... Put your hopes, your dreams, and your future on the line right here, right now. Let me take everything else from your fuming souls! Let me watch it splutter until the fire in your eyes is lost to dimming despair." The kryptonian dramatically provokes the bunch, emphasizing with visibly trembling fists that imply his metaphorical threat of suffocation.

  A display that his visitors find awfully unsettling.

  "This guy's definitely evil! Don't let 'em scare ya! There's more heavy hitters on our side and he damn sure can't out-slug us all!" An adversary from the crowd speaks out.

  "Metal-Pound is right. Let's take this egomaniac down and fix everything!" And with that, the exclaims of battle-cries comes echoing throughout the entire room, crashing down on Connor's hearing like a tidal wave as the army of meta-humans and vigilantes begin charging him down. Much to his enthusiastic delight, no less. The kryptonian eyes shoot wide open as a toothy crazed smile overtakes his handsome features. Without hesitation, yet also without putting on a blatant display of his God-like capability, he rushes them down in kind to meet at the center. While doing so, a subtle red tint sweeps across the entire room. His pupils drown in pools of neon red. Not a product of prepping his heat-vision again, but instead making use of his telekinesis.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "MAKE THIS INTERESTING FOR ME!" He exclaims just as he comes face to face with the first of many adversaries -- an individual with mechanical gauntlets made to discharge electricity as a form of projectile. The vigilante thrusts a hand forward and sends out a bolt of electricity at the kryptonian's face - the very one who merely weaves his head and shoulder aside to avoid it. Connor retaliates by shifting his casual run into a long stride and lunges forward while thrusting his own palm outward to send the electricity conductor flying back into a handful of others.

  As the opposition swarms and surrounds the kryptonian, the next individual takes their shot at the clone by lunging at him with a massive steel ax with the intent of cutting him through him with a downward motion. Connor simply steps aside out of its path, allowing it to meet the floor with a resonating 'TINK!'. Quick to react, he majestically spins on the ball of his left foot and delivers a thrusting kick with his right that sends the axe wielder crashing against the wall. Wising up, the half a dozen from the noisy crowd rush in to attack him all at once.

  "Ah-hahahahahaa! That's right!

  TOH!

  SEH!

  HUT!

  SAE-YAH!

  Keep fighting! Don't let up!" The kryptonian eggs them all on while rather effortlessly fending off each attempt as if he has eyes in the back of his head. Sending one stumbling back with a palm-strike to the chin, a combination set of kicks to rid himself of another, and a crouching double-palm thrusting shove to send the following one falling onto their back. The 9th one to try their hand displays familiarity with martial arts, starting with a flying dragon kick. A kick Connor stops dead in its track with his raising vertical forearm. The Kryptonian attempts to send the acrobat flying with a thrusting palm to the pectoral region after his foe lands, but the individual evades it by ducking into a momentary crouch before retaliating by rising up again while throwing a punch upward at an angle. One Connor's opposite hand blocks with its palm before flinging the foe away casually. However, before he could devote even more attention to those in front of him, a strong brawler rushes up from behind to take a straight jab for the back of his head. Connor tilts his head far to the side, allowing it whiff by and completely miss. Quickly, his right hand grips the brawler's wrist while his left elbow thrusts right into the male's abdomen with enough force to knock the wind out of him. Promptly after, Connor leans forward and tosses the brawler over his shoulder and down onto the floor with a 'thud' and grunt.

  Barely a second after, two more attack from both his left and right - one with a flying punch, and the other with a downward swing of a sword. The former, he stops by catching the attack within his palm. The latter is simply stopped by his point and middle finger gracefully catching the blade between them.

  "This guy is unreal!!!" Someone shouts from the mob, earning a chuckle from the imposing kryptonian. In the next instance, he yanks the two attackers forward and sends them flying in opposite directions where they both thrash against the wall.

  "IS THIS ALL YOU'VE GOT!? Did you come here to stop me or bore me into an early grave?" Connor mocks, presenting the best solemn expression he could give despite the giddy amusement bubbling inside of him. By then, the momentum from the mob slows down considerably. A great deal of them were beginning to second guess themselves. Something Connor takes notice of by the fact there's no one else throwing themselves at him. The lot of them just glaring him down, too afraid to try again or even make their first attempt.

  "I'm... Right.... Here." The kryptonian reminds them, sweeping his disdainful gaze over the many of them.

  "Are you waiting for something?" He asks while arching a brow.

  "Oh, to hell with it! Rockhouse, Might-Maiden, Vilman, Adapt-it-Man! Let's just get him!" A frustrated blonde of a male barks before charging in first. The rest only delay behind a bit as they join in on his brave effort.

  K R O O O M ! A harsh impact of a fist meeting Connor's palm erupts before the kryptonian casually shoves the blonde back and sends her nearly tripping down onto the floor

  B O O O M - B O O O M - B O O O M ! ! ! A quick succession of Connor blocking three more powerful roars out - the sounds of him stopping them with his palm again, a forearm, and his knee. Effectively blocking blows from meeting his head and the one aiming for his stomach.

  "HAHAHAHAA. Good, good... Show me more." Connor taunts before using the same minimum effort from before to shove all three away. Then, a flurry ensues from the five assailants. Despite how they attack in unity for the most part, none of them manage to land a blow. Connor sways, weaves, and leans as much as need be when he wasn't just blocking using whatever limb he can raise in time. Soon, he begins to turn the tide upon them all. For every blow given, he delivers a counterattack. It develops into a display of him just outright overwhelming them to the point that he's the only one throwing blows while alternating between them with what looks to be with the greatest of ease.

  Just until one manages to leap forward with the intent of throwing a right hook from the rear. At the very moment, he was just delivering a firm punch to the blonde from before. Right after, he grips the male by the shirt, swiftly turns, and uses him as a shield to defend against the attack. It lands with an echoing THWACK that drops the blonde flat on the floor unconscious.

  "D'oh! Sorry, Rick!"

  "Ah, don't worry--" TOHK! Connor delivers an uppercutting palm to the woman's chin who's responsible for taking the blonde out, putting her into a daze. Then? THOOM! He gives her a spinning thrust-kick that sends her crashing and slumping against his desk.

  "I'm sure he doesn't blame you at all." He assures with a toothy, pearly white grin.

  Then-- 'TINK!' A large robotic fist strikes him from behind and sends him colliding into a corner of his office. He regains his balance and turns to see who was able to do such a thing. What his eyes come to settle upon is a massive machine with a clunky, yet humanoid frame.

  "Hm..." With narrowing brows, his pupils shift into a monochrome color, and he makes use of his x-ray vision to examine the machine. No pilot inside at all. Just as his lips crack into another grin, the robot not only speaks up, promptly opens fire on him.

  "Commencing termination." It announces before transforming its hands into gatling guns and firing off a barrage of rounds upon the kryptonian. In addition, a circular opening takes shape upon the center of its chest and a muzzle extends from it - one that starts blowing fire that reaches more than far enough to engulf its target completely. It persists for nearly 30 seconds before it finally stops. When it does, silence creeps in. Seemingly amplifying the sounds of a rainfall of shells falling onto the marble floor.

  "You've got to be kidding me..." Someone from the crowd comments while looking upon the aftermath. A kryptonian leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, staring nonchalantly ahead. Not even a scratch on his suit was visible.

  "Primitive. Lacking a human mind and having artificial intelligence, I would have assumed you would be aware that such things wouldn't work on me." Connor comments, then stands up straight. He raises a hand toward the machine.

  "Now, let's put you out of commission before you hurt someone." And with those words, the kryptonian's eyes begin to glow red again. The robot begins visibly trembling almost immediately.

  "B-3?" Someone from the crowd calls out to the robot. Then, bolts, nuts, screws, and even limbs begin coming apart cleanly. Connor dissembles the machine and then lets all of its parts noisily fall to the floor.

  "Noooo! B-3!"

  "What did you just do to him!?"

  "Is it not obvious? I took it apart for your own good." Connor answers while approaching the center of the room again with casual steps.

  "If you think we're just going to let you get away with that, then you've got another thing coming!" A woman barks out at from the crowd, and with an aggressive gesture of her hands, she deprives the kryptonian of something valuable.

  From Connor's perspective, his vision was beginning to form cracks of darkness. As he stops within his tracks and blinks, they grow thicker and longer.

  "What the hell...?" He murmurs and reaches to rub at his sockets. Despite him doing so, it did absolutely nothing to remove that expanding darkness. Disbelief sinks in, but in a way, he accepts it. There's just no fighting it. Soon, his vision is completely gone. On the surface, a spell impairs his eyes and reduces them to pools of pitch-black darkness. Pupils and all swallowed by that darkness.

  "I'm... blind?" He asks under his breath, using his fingers to feel over the region of his sockets. He didn't have long to digest his predicament at all. Soon, the click-clack of heels stomping along the marble floor toward him, fills his ears. He instinctively turns his head toward the source, but still, he sees nothing. Instead, he FEELS a blow to the face that just barely jerks his head to the side.

  "Huh... Would you really be so indecent to strike a blind man across the face?" He jokingly inquires with a grin. Seconds of asking that question, another set of feet audibly moving along the marble floor reaches his ear. Far quicker in pace, leading Connor to surmise the individual is sprinting at him.

  THWACK!

  Another blow hits him across the face - one ten times harder than the last, and one that just somewhat manages to make his body lean and stumble into taking a step to recollect his balance. This time, he chuckles.

  "You're right. Silly question... What else could I expect from the rejects of society?" The kryptonian taunts.

  "Yeah, he's definitely lost his vision. Now's our chance!" Someone exclaims.

  "Oh boy..." Connor remarks lowly to himself. He knew for certain he was in for plenty of flailing. Sure enough, the sharp sound of incoherent clatter of angry voices and footsteps does come. Along with it comes an onslaught of attacks in every direction. In the moment, all Connor could think to do is hunch over while using his arms to guard his face and the back of his head as the bunch pummel away at him.

  Of course, the pressure does raise a bit of anxiety that quickens his heart rate, but it doesn't last. Connor comes to realize their army doesn't have the planetary level of manpower to cause him significant harm. That clarity allows him to drown out everything and breath. To collect his senses and think on how to best overcome the situation at hand. A fascinating thought comes to mind after a moment; though he couldn't see a thing, his powers aren't affected by his blindness. He could still read their intent via his telekinesis. As he's been doing since the moment this altercation started, he activates his telekinesis and envelopes the entire room with his mental reach. It wasn't for reading minds, but providing him a 6th sense sort of speak. Any living organism within his range, he has a mental awareness of at all times. He knows when someone is moving or just standing still. If someone was honestly calm, or having a panic attack so sinister, that he could hear and practically feel their heart being the verge of bursting out of their chest. However, it doesn't work with energy or machinery. Plasma beams, fire, light, Androids, coffee makers, or even Metallo - his telekinesis field doesn't pick up on their actions or trajectory at all.

  Through his blindness, his powers shine through and introduce a surreal and new form of vision. In the vastness of the darkness, crimson lines give shape to his adversaries. Down to the details of their hostile expressions. How much more appropriate could it be? It was like laying witness to a nightmare of vile monsters that were barely humans.

  Nonetheless, he's ready to go on the offensive again. And so, with a telekinetic burst discharging from his being with just a thought, he sends all of who're crowding around him flying back a few feet and takes back his personal space.

  "Okay..." Connor cranks his head to the right, then the left. Inducing the subtle sound of bones cracking.

  "Let's try this again, shall we?" As if on cue, they all come rushing back in again. This time, however, he's swift to go on the offensive. Nearly moving within a blur, Connor delivers a flurry of mindful blows to a dozen bodies that approach him. Some drop to the floor, some weren't so easily taken down. Those who return or stay for a repeat are given even fierce hits - punches he delivers while also simultaneously blocking and maneuvering to evade incoming attacks.

  Once he rids himself of the last two assailants within proximity with a double palm thrust at his front and back, sending them flying on impact, he's almost immediately struck by a stream of electricity. Though it only really serves to distract the kryptonian, it's more than enough to make an opening someone uses to send him stumbling forward using a beam-like projectile to the back. He winds up falling within the range of one of the brawlers from before, who promptly grabs hold of him and flips him with a face-to-face suplex onto the floor.

  Before Connor could push himself up, the one responsible for slamming him onto his back presses a knee down onto his torso and begins swinging away at his face. Blow after blow does indeed land, but it's nothing that disorientates the kryptonian much at all. With a simple shove at the other's chest, Connor sends him soaring across the room and landing with a 'thud'.

  "Okay-okay... I think I've had as much fun as I'm going to get from this." The kryptonian comments while rising, taking a moment to dust himself off afterwards.

  In an instant, he consciously pushes his senses into overdrive and slows down time itself around him. or rather, his perception and light-speed movements gives him the impression that everything else is slowing down. He calculates an exact number and exact locations of every enemy on the floor. Then? He carries out his plan of attack. Zipping about like lightning and becoming untraceable to human level perception. In just a blink and a half, he knocks every single one of them out.

  Upon doing so, his vision begins returning. The black starts fading from his eyes, allowing him to clearly see the mass of unconscious bodies lying on his floor. After momentarily staring with a blank expression, he turns and heads over to his desk. Carefully stepping over the vigilantes who litter the surface beneath his crimson boots. Once he makes his way there, he leans and places his right hand flatly upon the furniture to support himself while his left hand reaches for the intercom. Making use of his point finger, he pushes down on the contact button to speak to his secretary.

  "Miss Jane, would you mind contacting the MCPD for me? I need a pickup for 142. Tell them to bring plenty of trucks." He requests of her.

  "Understood, sir." She responds. Needing nothing more, he releases the button and circles around. Moving to stand before the center of the three windows that tower behind his chair and desk. He inhales, then exhales. Grinning again as he looks down upon the busy streets far down below.

  "It's good to be me."

  End.