The bullets ricocheted off Zod's armor with a metallic clang, sending sparks flying as one of the gangsters was hit by his own projectile.
Boom!
Zod's fist slammed into the chest of a particularly aggressive thug. The sheer force crushed the man's internal organs, shattered his spine, and ended his life in an instant. Wanting to avoid a spectacle of excessive gore for his first public display as "The Dark Knight," Zod opted for quick, efficient takedowns, reminiscent of techniques he had studied from world martial arts tournaments like the KOF. In a flash, he seemed to teleport behind two more thugs and with a swift jab to the back of their heads, they collapsed, twitching as if afflicted by some debilitating disease.
The surrounding crowd, initially paralyzed by fear, began to stir. The police, emboldened by Zod's intervention, regained their composure and quickly moved to subdue the remaining criminals.
"Excuse me… who are you?" one officer asked, staring in awe at the armored figure.
The era of righteous superheroes had yet to dawn, and the officer had never encountered anything quite like the War Machine standing before him.
"I'm Zodhith," Zod replied, his facial armor peeling away to reveal his strikingly handsome face. "This is my War Machine, the Dark Knight. Good job, officers."
His face was instantly recognizable; Zod had become a cultural icon, known across the U.S. as the most brilliant—and perhaps most attractive—man of his time. As the crowd snapped pictures and whispered amongst themselves, Zod took his leave, soaring into the sky. Below, reporters from the Mainichi Shimbun and Clarion Daily cursed their bad luck, knowing they had missed the biggest scoop of their careers.
Zod's public debut as the Dark Knight wasn't just about saving lives—it was a calculated move to establish a heroic image. As CEO of Planet Daily, his own media empire, Zod ensured the paper had exclusive, high-quality photos of the event. Captured from all angles by his personal AI, Black Queen, the shots were flawless, showcasing Zod in his sleek, pitch-black armor.
The photos graced the front pages the next morning. Beneath the streamlined, close-fitting armor, Zod's muscular physique and powerful build were impossible to ignore. He looked more like a modern-day Michelangelo sculpture than a man encased in metal. Across the nation, women swooned, and Zod's status as America's most eligible bachelor soared to new heights.
"Dark Knight: The Genius Hero," read one headline.
"Zodhith, the Most Brilliant Mind of Our Time—Now a Superhero?" asked another.
Articles praised Zod's bravery, his genius, and his decision to don the armor to protect others. Some questioned whether it was a commentary on the failings of the current system: did America's heroes need to take matters into their own hands?
But not everyone was thrilled. Critics questioned Zod's personal heroism, seeing it as a challenge to established law enforcement. Some newspapers argued that his actions undermined the police, but none of these detractors had managed to secure the coveted images of the Dark Knight. As a result, their sales were crushed by Planet Daily.
Meanwhile, Zod's carefully orchestrated PR campaign tapped into the collective consciousness of young and middle-aged Americans alike. The dream of becoming a hero, saving the world, and fighting for justice ignited a nationwide fervor.
The United States needed a hero—and Zod was more than willing to play that role.
In another corner of New York, Nick Fury was growing increasingly concerned.
"What the hell is he thinking?" Fury muttered, pacing his office. "A genius scientist doesn't just decide to play superhero overnight."
Fury knew Zod's War Machine—nicknamed the Dark Knight—was cutting-edge, but he also understood the risks. Zod was young, and this public display of heroism could make him a target for enemies far worse than a few common thugs.
"Natasha," Fury called, connecting to his top agent, Black Widow. "How's the mission going?"
Natasha Romanoff, better known as Black Widow, had been tasked with getting close to Zod to extract intelligence. However, that task had proven more difficult than she had anticipated.
"He's… complicated," Natasha admitted. "Zod's all over the place. One minute, he's focused on curing cancer. The next, he's buying a private hospital or founding a news empire. Now, he's a superhero? He's impossible to keep up with."
Despite her best efforts, Natasha hadn't been able to get as close to Zod as she usually did with her targets.
"It's like I don't exist," she said, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. "He's more interested in mechanical parts than women."
Fury frowned. "That doesn't sound right. You're telling me Zod has no interest in you?"
"It's not that," Natasha clarified. "He just has a type—and I'm not it. You've seen his assistant, Uld, right? Gorgeous, mature, powerful. That's more his speed."
Fury sighed, massaging his temples. If Black Widow couldn't get close to Zod, they'd have to rethink their strategy. But for now, Fury had bigger problems. Zod's emergence as a superhero was bound to attract unwanted attention—from both criminals and governments alike.
And if Zod was serious about launching an era of superheroes, the world was about to get a whole lot more complicated.