So... it went better than I expected. Much better, in fact: many people actually understood my actions, and surprisingly many heroes were among them, Clark included. Sure, there were the naysayers, but those were actually rather few, at least when taking into account those with genuine concerns and fears about me and not those who simply didn't like gun-toting heroes that could also benchpress tanks and had no moral compunctions about using both to take out criminals permanently.
And then, of course, there was Bruce.
I don't have to tell you what he felt about me the moment he found out about the massacre I pulled out, you already know. Weird, since I had yet to even go to Gotham (YET), but then again, he did have contingencies in case that, say, Superman went rogue again, his real identity were to be find out (Knightfall Protocol from Arkham Knight), or Joker became a god.
As a sidenote, he managed to yoink several bullets and shells from the Voyager, something that I expected of him. I mean, it wasn't like he could build a powered armor/mech to fight me, no amount of metal would save him from being ripped apart under a hail of 15mm tungsten rounds.
And no, that was not part of the altercation we had, be patient!
So, after stopping the Red Trident, giving the victims the respect they deserved, and helping smooth things out between Atlantis and the rest of the planet, what did I do?
Patrol New York to gauge the people's reactions to me after the clusterfuck of the last week and because I really had nothing else better to do at that moment. I mean, there couldn't be high-end crimes or natural disasters every damn day, don't you think?
Also, New York. Just New York. Did you know that Central Park here is a full-on zoo? And that someone, for some reason, made a life-size statue of Superman in Bronx?
So, there I was, the Doom Slayer, walking down Times Square under a sunny sky, bystanders either looking up at my huge form from afar or stepping back as I walked across streets, most of them staring at me like I was Robocop or Judge Dredd instead of Spawn.
This had the unexpected effect of drawing the attention of people who shouldn't had been distracted from what they were doing, specifically a young mother pushing a stroller with a baby on it, the woman being somehoww too distracted to remember she had been crossing the street. Many of the drivers were too busy looking at me to drive, but it wasn't them who supposed a problem: it was an armored van speeding from Midtown whose passengers and co-driver were exchanging fire with three pursuing cop cars, pushing smaller vehicles aside as it went that did.
Yeah, the driver saw the two standing right in the middle of the road didn't care about what he would have done.
Yes, I just said 'would have done'.
Runaway van, distracted woman and child, space marine mere yards away from them... You know what it led to.
The mother only had time to hear the vehicle speeding at her at a hundred miles per hour and look at that direction before I jumped in between and braced myself, stopped the van cold, and stomped on the engine for good measure.
Incidentally, the codriver didn't have the seatbelt on, so you had the image of a balaclava-wearing gunman flying and screaming like a bitch before crashing his head against a pole. Goddamn hilarious, but I hadn't been paying attention to that.
"Watch both sides before you cross, ma'am." I told her, trying to channel my inner Spider-man. After all, when in New York...
"I-I'm actually single, but thanks for the advice." She stuttered.
"Miss, then." I then turned towards the stopped van. The robbers, being of the smart sort instead of their fellows from Metropolis and Gotham, didn't even bother to shoot at me and dropped their guns before stepping out of the vehicle with hands raised and kneeling on the ground. The officers that had been chasing them inmediatly set to apprehend them, while one of them approached me.
"Thanks for the help Doom Slayer." He said
I merely nodded at him before returning to my patrolling amidst the applauds of several people. That was good, knowing that some people still liked me despite being a (successful) Punisher reenactor. "VEGA?"
"Nothing to report Slayer." He then stood quiet for a second "Warning, Clark Kent is approaching from above."
"Speed?" I knew he wasn't even angry at me, and to be honest I had anticipated that Clark would want to talk to me, but I still wanted to know if he was in a hurry or something; he may have wanted me to help him in something, after all.
"Four knots."
Yep, just wanted to talk with me.
I nodded at VEGA's response as I walked. I knew what he wanted to talk about.
"You came quickly." I said outloud without bothering to look up, knowing he was hearing me.
"You know the saying, faster than speeding bullet." I heard him say as he came closer.
"Why are you here."
"I was in New Jersey dealing with Livewire, and heard a portal of yours opening. "Clark said as he landed next to me. "I saw what you just did Doom Slayer. Nice to see you're willing to do small things from time to time."
"Big problems that would require my intervention are low for now. Wanted to make myself useful." I replied as we walked down the street, the small crowd that had been formed before growing steadily because it wasn't every day that they got to see not just the Man of Steel, but also the world's newest and now most infamous hero chatting on Times Square. "Want to talk about my actions back at the Voyager."
He nodded "Kind of, but not about the the fact you killed them. I realized a long time ago that some people just have it coming, and I'm sure you know that." Clark then sighed. "It's just... how you did them. Well, that and another thing: certain people are worried about, well, you being so powerful yet also willing to kill." And with 'certain people' he meant, of course, Bruce Wayne, although he wasn't the only one: the opinion that many people in the press, the goverment and the military had gotten worse when they caught wind of my actions, but fortunately they didn't have much sway in things.
"I don't care for what the paranoid, the overzealous and the insane believe of me."
Clark just frowned "They're not without reason, you know: they fear you could end up killing someone, someone innocent. I mean not deliberately, obviously" He hurried to say when I looked at him, believing he had offended me. He hadn't, but his words made me think, not just about collateral damage but also because of the fact he seemed wary of me. Superman. That... was actually not that good, when you think about it. ", but by accident."
"How so? I'm a very accurate when it comes to shooting things with heavy ordnance."
"I've seen the reports; you have at least two shotguns which fire what are for all intents and purposes artillery shells, two high-caliber machine guns, there's also your plasma gun, that blade on your wrist, explosives, a flamethrower, a freezing weapon, and a chainsaw of all things." He listed, even using his fingers to point it out. "That's a lot of firepower, you know. It makes people uneasy, unease makes them think and then believe things, and... well, I think you know how it plays out. And it's not just some government officials and general Rippers who don't like that."
I stopped when I heard that, and sighed. As much as I wanted to just ignore his words, Clark was right, the big cheese that knew more were understandably wary of me having an entire arsenal on my person and being able to put it out in a single second, not just me willing to use said arsenal.
Plus, he wasn't just talking about merely important people, but also other heroes: while many didn't see me as a monster, the only ones that were openly sympathetic to me could be counted in one hand, and remember, the League had yet to be formed. Something told me they needed more reassurance than just being told 'I'm good at avoiding collateral damage'.
And that was just their feelings towards my 'normal' guns. If (or rather, when) they discovered I had a semi-automatic rocket/missile launcher, a railgun that could defeat any and all armor made on Earth, and a plasma cannon whose power was measured in the tons even on the lowest setting, before I could explain myself, they would surely freak out. This being DC, that would snowball into something very, very bad, to put it lightly. Therefore, I had to do something. I wasn't going to tell them about my big guns yet of course, but I could start with something simple, to prove my sincerity, so to speak.
So, I decided to do something none of you might have expected from me.
I removed my helmet. In public, right in view of a growing crowd, showing everyone what I looked like, which was basically a big, bearded strongman.
Yeah, I just pulled out an Iron Man, but to be fair I had been planning on revealing my face for a while after realizing the 'secret idenity' crap was simply not for me. I mean, unlike Clark or Bruce, people would realize that the over seven foot tall, overmuscled motherfucker who, to use it as an example, runs that hot dog stand around that corner over there is in fact the alter eg of the Doom Slayer. They might have been able to pull the 'acting different and wearing something else as a disguise' schtick, but I just couldn't. Another reason was that, if I showed my real identity to not just him but the entire world, people would find me, ridiculous as it sounds, 'trustworthy'.
Another, another reason was that I wanted to look at Clark in the eyes when I spoke instead of through a faceplate with the HUD around it. It was already awkward being more than a foot taller than him, and for some reason I couldn't shut the damn thing off.
"Superman." I said to the surprised kryptonian "Do you, and the others, really believe I won't be able to distinguish between the simplest, least aggressive mugger in Manhattan, and those who are basically monsters in human skin?" In truth I was just mentalizing the Reavers at the moment to drive the point home, but then again the Reavers were just little more than space barbarians. "Or that I don't know to watch my fire. I'm a soldier, not some hunter turned avenger."
Clark shook his head, shaking (uh) his surprise.
"I told you already, It's not about you killing people, It's about how you do it. I didn't see the act, but I saw the aftermath, and I told you already about the weapons. Even though the Red Trident deserved it, you seemed less of an avenger of injustice and more of an angel of bloody death and destruction. And there is a difference between the two. Marking those that surrendered didn't help either. It scares them."
That made me think. The public crying about me being a brute didn't really faze me, but when the nicest guy out there tells you that you could be a bit more humane when killing, it does make you thing.
This was despite the fact I had only done so once as of that moment, didn't plan to do so again in the near future given everything that was happening, and had done to people who had happily caved children heads' in despite their hypocrital claims of justice. It was the equivalent of fearing the Inglorious Basterds for hunting down SS squads and slaughtering them, and carving swastikas on the survivors.
Which, to be honest, would have been the proper response to them.
"Again, do I look like a man who kills and tortures without reason? Or doesn't try his damnest to avoid collateral damage?"
He looked me over. "No, at least to me."
I shrugged my shoulders. "Then talk to them. You're Superman, remember? Many people like and trust you, even after the Apokolips fiasco. He trusts you."
Clark knew who I was talking about, and why specifically him: unlike all the others, Bruce had both the resources and the determination to try and stop me if he thought he had to.
So, we spoke some more about what to do amidst the flashes of an increasingly larger crowd, and after that he left, leaving me to patrol the Big Apple, Madrid and Saõ Paulo at my leisure for three days, stopping an arms deal, visiting the city, and stopping a fire respectively. Meanwhile, the press didn't waste time in posting my face everywhere they could and the conspiracy theoristss, secret government agents and general nutters began wondering why exactly did I do that.
And THEN, after those three days passed, I ended having my first look at the supernatural side of this world, including magic... and demons, which in turn included half-demons.
Oh, and a chain smoking, jerkass englishman with a dress who really, really made me reconsider the 'only killing the worst when they come' rule. You'll see why,
..........
Sorry for the lack of variety and the overuse of 'wary common man' trope, and if it seems confusing, this is one of those 'keep the story going' chapters to keep my mind on tracks.
Yes, Constantine will appear, you yappering yaps. Yes, he won't be the only one.
I just realized, maybe I'm making the SI too similar to Master Chief? I mean, he's not fully silent, and when you think about it John leaves lots of blue grunt blood as he passes through Covie lines. Also, was making him reveal his identity the right move and an original choice for this kind of stories, or at least an interesting one? It's not like the SI has something to protect from bad guys by hiding his face, you know.