"Hey, senior!"
"You free around noon?"
"I mean, maybe we could grab lunch together?"
"Sorry, I've already got plans with someone else."
From a hundred meters away, Eden had his Super Senses wide open, every scrap of chatter filtering into his ears.
"Not that. Gotta push it further."
He expanded again—this time sweeping across the entire campus.
"How's the project coming along?"
"My data's looking solid lately."
"No way. You're a genius."
That was the sound of tired lab rats trading notes in the science building.
"Principal, you're so bad~"
"Heh. I love it when you pretend to resist."
That came from the principal's office.
The head of the university and the P.E. coach—some six-foot-three meathead—were going at it, loud enough to echo through the walls. The principal himself? Just a pudgy, balding middle-aged guy.
"Jesus Christ."
Eden clenched his jaw. This was exactly why he usually throttled his powers down. A country this "free" meant there were things he really didn't want to hear.
When he opened his Super Senses fully, everything came crashing in without pause. His Kryptonian brain—smarter than any supercomputer on Earth—sorted the flood of sound and sight into a three-dimensional map in his mind.
That was why he normally capped his hearing at five meters and kept his vision at human-level. Otherwise? The world was just too damn loud.
But right now, it paid off.
Within five seconds, his eyes locked onto the campus sewer system.
In his mind's eye, the pipes unfolded into a hidden lab. And strapped to a dissecting table inside—like livestock waiting for slaughter—was William.
"Found you."
Relief tugged at Eden's chest. William was alive. For now.
But first… something else.
A thunderclap rocked the university. The wall of the principal's office blew outward, showering bricks across the quad.
Students turned, stunned—just in time to see their principal and the P.E. teacher fully exposed in the middle of their little office hookup.
Click. Click. Clickclickclick.
Phones came up in a storm of flashes, every kid snapping shots and posting them online in seconds.
Meanwhile, a black streak cut through the air faster than anyone could track, slipping down into the sewers.
Eden had done his part. Social death for the principal. Now he could focus on saving William.
Upstate University sewer system.
The boom from above rattled the lab, swinging the overhead lights on their chains.
"What the hell are those idiots doing?" Sinclair snarled, wiping down a surgical scalpel. "Don't tell me they blew up the science wing."
"Where am I?"
The noise jarred William awake. His eyes widened at the sight of Sinclair sterilizing knives. "Hey—what the hell are you doing?"
"Tch."
"Damn it. My lamb woke up early."
Sinclair frowned, then smirked. "Relax. Under my knife, you'll evolve. You'll experience beauty you can't even imagine."
"Screw you! Let me go or you'll regret it!" William snapped.
"You should be honored." Sinclair's tone dripped with superiority. "Scrawny little weaklings like you don't usually qualify for my work. But last night you just had to pass out in front of the dorms—blocking my real target. So you became the stand-in."
William's stomach sank. "You… you were after Eden?"
"Exactly." Sinclair's grin widened. "Not as dumb as you look."
"You'll never succeed. Eden's friends with the Teen Team—Atom Eve, Robot. They won't let this slide. They'll find you, and they'll wreck your ass."
Sinclair burst out laughing. "That's rich. You're telling me Eden's buddy-buddy with the same losers who couldn't even handle aliens? Perfect! I'd love to see if my Reanimen outclass those bargain-bin heroes."
He clapped his hands. The shadows stirred, and a dozen figures stepped forward—silver masks, armored exoskeletons. His Reanimen.
"You're a monster!" William's face went pale, lips trembling as he glared.
"Monster?" Sinclair scoffed. "Blasphemy. I'm the angel God sent to guide humanity's evolution."
He raised the gleaming scalpel, pointing it at William's chest. "Don't worry. Soon you, Eden, and every last member of the Teen Team will be reborn into something this beautiful."
"Stop! Don't you dare!" William thrashed against the restraints.
"Too late." Sinclair's voice was cold. "No one's coming to save you. I've got thirty Reanimen stationed outside. What you see here? Just a fraction."
His grin stretched wide. Sinclair didn't care about ideals or evolution. He was a lunatic who loved illegal experiments, dressing them up with bullshit philosophy.
"I wouldn't bet on that."
The rasping voice came from behind him.
And Sinclair froze.
...
"—What?!"
The sudden voice froze Sinclair in place.
He turned slowly toward the dark tunnel where it came from, his expression calm as he barked, "Reanimen, what the hell are you waiting for? Kill the intruder!"
"Raaagh!"
At his command, a dozen Reanimen stormed into the passage.
*BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!*
The rumbles echoed for a few seconds. Then—silence.
"Handled."
"Just a minor inconvenience."
Sinclair exhaled in relief, turning back toward the operating table to resume his work.
"Yeah. Handled."
Except when he turned, his jaw locked.
Standing beneath the overhead lamp was a man in a black battlesuit, the blazing red emblem on his chest glowing like fresh blood. The light cut across his frame, leaving his face obscured in shadow—but Sinclair could feel the anger radiating from him.
"Superman?"
Sinclair's eyes flicked to the massive *S* on the man's chest, the word slipping out instinctively.
*BAM!*
In a blur, the man was right in front of him, one hand clamped tight around his throat, hoisting him off the ground like he weighed nothing.
"Ghhkk—!" Sinclair's pupils blew wide in terror. "Superman wouldn't manhandle a human like this. Not even a criminal."
"That's why I'm not Superman."
The voice was sharp, guttural, scraping like a scream dragged out of hell.
Because this wasn't Superman. This was Eden.
Moments earlier, he'd worried about the sewage ruining his clothes—or worse, blowing his cover—when the System had come online. It burned through every last Lottery Draw he'd saved up, materializing the battlesuit he wore in his Simulation fights. A suit that came with deodorizing, stain-proofing, and facial recognition jamming built in.
Basically, exactly what he needed. Eden had accepted instantly.
Even better, the suit had a casualwear mode, letting it shift into anything he imagined. From now on, he'd never need to shop for clothes again.
*WHAM!*
He tossed Sinclair aside like trash and moved to the operating table. With a few quick tugs, the restraints snapped loose.
"You're—?"
William blinked at the towering man in the Superman-style battlesuit, his gut twisting with familiarity he couldn't place.
"Can you get out on your own?"
Eden pulled him upright.
"Of course." William nodded firmly. After his long rest, his strength was back at full.
"Good. Then leave. I've got something else to deal with."
Eden guided him to the tunnel entrance before heading back inside.
William hesitated, words caught in his throat. He turned the thought over and over until—*click*.
His eyes went wide. "Eden!!"
He bolted down the tunnel, heart racing. He had to get back to the dorms, had to confirm what he already knew.
Meanwhile, Sinclair was strapped to the same table he'd put countless victims on.
"Reanimen! Where are you?! Get in here!"
His voice cracked with panic.
"Don't kid yourself."
Eden's tone was flat. "While you were ranting at William, I wiped out all thirty of your Reanimen."
He picked through Sinclair's surgical tools, selecting one.
"What are you doing?" Sinclair's pupils shrank, his chest heaving.
"Relax. You'll be *ascending* soon enough."
Eden turned the scalpel over in his hand, testing the edge, his voice ice-cold.
"No! You can't! You can't do this!" Sinclair thrashed, eyes wild. "I'm not like the others! Don't cut out my frontal lobe—don't turn me into a drooling idiot!"
"Scared?" Eden tilted his head. "This is the 'ascension' you brag about, isn't it? I'm just doing to you what you did to everyone else. Why so terrified? Unless you know it's wrong."
"Please!" Sinclair sobbed, voice cracking. "I only experimented on robbers, gangbangers, bullies! Scum no one cared about—hell, even the NYPD ignored them!"
"I know." Eden's eyes never wavered. "That's why I didn't bother with you before."
He leaned closer, scalpel gleaming under the lamp. "But you went after someone innocent. That's where you fucked up."
"I was wrong! I was *wrong*! I'll never touch another innocent, I swear it!"
Sinclair's voice shook with desperate repentance. But in the pit of his heart, the calculations never stopped. *My Reanimen were too weak. If I survive this freak, I'll use superhumans as test subjects. I'll come back stronger.*
Eden's lips curled. "You're not sorry. You're just scared because you know you're gonna die."
He sterilized the scalpel. The finality in his eyes was undeniable.
Sinclair's scream tore through the lab as the blade came down.
"Cecil. Clean-up time."
Eden pulled out his phone and fired off a text. If he knew Cecil, the GDA already had eyes on this place.
Elsewhere.
"Eden? You in here? Doesn't matter, I'm coming in anyway!"
William shoved open the dorm door, panting with anticipation—only to stop dead.
Eden sat calmly on the windowsill, steam curling from a fresh cup of coffee in his hand.
"You're back," Eden said casually, setting the mug aside. "How was last night?"
William froze, disbelief painted across his face. "So… I was wrong?"
Back in Sinclair's lab, Cecil stepped through the carnage. Severed limbs and shattered machinery littered the floor, the stench of blood thick in the air.
He stared at the scene in silence, then muttered under his breath:
"Maybe a perfect Superman isn't such a bad thing after all."