The flight back to Earth gave David time to think.
Too much time, perhaps.
His mind kept circling back to the evening's events—the interrogation with Batman, the strange behavior of Diana and Dinah, the cryptic warnings about "not breaking hearts" that everyone seemed compelled to deliver. It was all very confusing, and David had never been particularly skilled at reading social situations even before he died and woke up in an alien body.
Maybe I should ask someone, he thought as he descended through the atmosphere, the friction of reentry warming his skin pleasantly. Maybe there's some superhero etiquette guide I'm missing. "How to Navigate Justice League Social Dynamics for Dummies."
He was so lost in thought that he almost missed it.
The sound hit him first—a deep, resonant BOOM that echoed across the city, followed by the unmistakable cacophony of combat. Explosions. Screams. The sharp crack of energy weapons discharging.
David's head snapped toward the source of the noise, his enhanced vision cutting through the darkness to identify the problem.
Downtown Jump City. Near the waterfront. Multiple combatants engaged in what appeared to be a full-scale battle.
He altered his trajectory without conscious thought, accelerating toward the conflict. The wind screamed past him as he dropped from the sky like a meteor, his eyes scanning the scene below.
The Teen Titans were there—he recognized them immediately from his research the previous night. Robin, the team's leader, acrobatic and precise. Starfire, radiant and powerful, her starbolts lighting up the night. Beast Boy, currently in the form of a massive green gorilla. Raven, hovering above the fray, her dark magic swirling around her. And Cyborg, his arm cannon blazing as he provided covering fire.
They were fighting on two fronts.
On one side was Cinderblock—a massive creature of living concrete, easily twenty feet tall, smashing through everything in its path with mindless fury. Its fists left craters in the street, and every swing sent cars flying like toys.
On the other side were five figures David recognized from his comic book knowledge: the HIVE Five. Gizmo, the diminutive tech genius in his mechanical walker. Mammoth, the hulking brute who matched Cinderblock in raw strength if not size. Jinx, the pink-haired sorceress whose bad-luck powers could turn any situation chaotic. See-More, the one-eyed villain with the helmet of optical tricks. And Billy Numerous, who was currently living up to his name by splitting into dozens of copies.
The Titans were holding their own, but barely. They were being forced to split their attention between the two threats, and the coordination was suffering for it. Robin was shouting orders, trying to maintain some semblance of tactical cohesion, but the battle was slipping out of control.
They need help, David realized. They need—
He was moving before he finished the thought.
Jinx was having the time of her life.
The plan had been simple: use Cinderblock as a distraction while the HIVE Five hit the tech company across the street. The big concrete idiot was perfect for the job—too stupid to know he was being used, too powerful for the Titans to ignore.
And it was working. The Titans were stretched thin, trying to contain Cinderblock's rampage while also dealing with the HIVE Five's assault. Robin was getting frustrated, his orders becoming sharper and more desperate. Starfire was exhausting herself trying to be everywhere at once. Even Raven was showing signs of strain.
Just a few more minutes, Jinx thought gleefully, dodging one of Cyborg's sonic blasts. Just keep them busy a little longer and we're home free.
She raised her hands, pink energy crackling between her fingers, ready to hex the ground beneath Cyborg's feet—
And then the sky fell.
That was what it felt like, anyway. One moment, the battle was raging normally. The next, something massive descended from above with such speed and force that the shockwave knocked Jinx off her feet.
She hit the ground hard, the breath driven from her lungs. Blinking stars from her eyes, she looked up—
And felt her blood turn to ice.
Omni-Man.
He was hovering about ten feet off the ground, arms crossed over his massive chest, that distinctive white and red costume unmistakable in the streetlights. His expression was calm, almost serene, but his eyes...
His eyes were terrifying.
Jinx had faced a lot of scary things in her life. She'd gone toe-to-toe with the Titans dozens of times. She'd even encountered some of the heavier hitters in the villain community—people who could level buildings, who could kill with a thought.
But she had never, never felt fear like this.
It wasn't just his size, though he was enormous—easily the largest humanoid she'd ever seen. It wasn't just the power radiating off him, though that was palpable even from twenty feet away. It was something else, something primal.
Looking at Omni-Man was like looking at a natural disaster given human form. A hurricane with eyes. An earthquake that could think.
The battle had stopped.
Everyone—Titans and villains alike—had frozen in place, staring at the figure that had just dropped into their midst.
Cinderblock, the mindless brute who feared nothing, had actually stepped back. Its craggy face, normally expressionless, seemed to register something like confusion. Or terror.
Gizmo's mechanical walker was trembling. See-More had gone pale beneath his helmet. Mammoth, who prided himself on being afraid of nothing, was visibly shaking.
And Billy Numerous—all forty-seven copies of him—were slowly backing away, their usual bravado completely evaporated.
We need to run, Jinx thought desperately. We need to run right now.
But her legs wouldn't move. She was frozen, pinned in place by those terrible, calm eyes.
Omni-Man surveyed the scene with an expression of mild disappointment. Like a teacher who had walked in on students misbehaving.
"Well," he said, and his voice was a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate in Jinx's chest, "this is unfortunate."
David hadn't meant to terrify everyone.
He'd just wanted to help. The Titans were struggling, the situation was escalating, and he had the power to make a difference. So he'd dropped in, planning to quickly neutralize the threats and then introduce himself properly.
What he hadn't anticipated was the reaction.
Every villain on the street had frozen solid the moment he appeared. Their faces had gone pale—even Cinderblock, who didn't technically have blood, seemed to have lost color. The HIVE Five were staring at him like he was death incarnate.
And the Titans... the Titans were looking at him with a mixture of awe and wariness that made him deeply uncomfortable.
Right, David thought, suddenly remembering. The original Omni-Man was terrifying. He was one of the most powerful beings on the planet, and he kept everyone at arm's length. These people don't know me—they know him*. And they're afraid.*
This was going to be a problem.
"I'm not here to hurt anyone," David said, trying to pitch his voice to be reassuring rather than intimidating. It was difficult—his Viltrumite vocal cords seemed designed for the opposite effect. "I'm here to help."
No one moved.
Jinx was still on the ground, staring up at him with wide, terrified eyes. Mammoth had actually put his hands up, as if surrendering. Gizmo's walker had powered down completely, the little genius apparently too frightened to even operate his controls.
Even Cinderblock, the mindless monster, was backing away slowly.
This is not what I wanted, David thought. I wanted to be like Superman—inspiring, reassuring, a symbol of hope. Instead, I'm scaring everyone half to death.
He lowered himself to the ground, deliberately making his movements slow and non-threatening. His boots touched the cracked pavement with a soft thud.
"I'm serious," he said, gentling his voice as much as he could. "I'm not going to hurt anyone. But this fight needs to stop. People could get killed."
Robin was the first to recover. The young hero stepped forward, his bo staff held defensively but not aggressively.
"Omni-Man," he said, his voice admirably steady. "We weren't expecting you."
"I was in the area." David gestured at the devastation around them—the destroyed storefronts, the overturned cars, the small fires burning in scattered debris. "Saw you needed help."
"We had the situation under control."
No, you didn't, David thought, but he didn't say it out loud. Robin's pride was obviously at stake, and there was no benefit to undermining him in front of his team.
"I'm sure you did," David said instead. "But an extra set of hands never hurts, right?"
Robin studied him for a long moment, clearly trying to assess the situation. David could almost see the calculations happening behind those masked eyes—Who is this guy? What does he want? Is he a threat?
"You've never helped us before," Robin said finally. "In fact, you've never shown any interest in Jump City at all."
"Things change." David looked around at the frozen villains. "Speaking of which—what do you want to do with them? I assume you have some kind of containment protocol?"
The question seemed to snap everyone out of their stupor. Starfire floated down beside Robin, her green eyes fixed on David with an intensity that made him slightly uncomfortable.
"You are Omni-Man," she said. "I have heard of you. You are very powerful."
"That's what they tell me."
"You once stopped a meteor from hitting Metropolis. The news called you 'Earth's Mightiest Hero.'"
David vaguely remembered seeing that headline in his research. The original Omni-Man had apparently engaged in some pretty impressive feats over the years—building his reputation, establishing himself as a trustworthy protector.
All while secretly planning to conquer the planet, David reminded himself. But these people don't know that. And as far as they're concerned, I've always been one of the good guys.
"I try to help where I can," he said simply.
Raven drifted closer, her dark hood obscuring most of her face. David could feel something—a psychic pressure, perhaps, or magical sensing—brush against his mind.
"You feel... different," Raven said quietly. "Different from what I expected."
"Different how?"
Raven was silent for a moment, her hidden eyes studying him. "I'm not sure. Just... different." She turned to Robin. "He's not lying. He genuinely wants to help."
Robin's posture relaxed slightly. "Alright. Cyborg, Beast Boy—start rounding up the HIVE Five. Starfire, keep an eye on Cinderblock. Raven, containment spells. And Omni-Man..."
He turned back to David, and something in his expression shifted—becoming less wary, more curious.
"Thank you. For the assist."
"Any time."
The cleanup took about twenty minutes.
David helped where he could, which mostly meant standing in Cinderblock's path whenever the creature tried to run and looking intimidating. It was remarkably effective—every time Cinderblock so much as glanced in his direction, the concrete monster froze, its limited intelligence apparently screaming at it to not provoke the scary man.
The HIVE Five were even easier. They surrendered without resistance the moment it became clear that Omni-Man was sticking around. Jinx, in particular, couldn't stop staring at him—her pink eyes wide with a fear that made David's stomach twist uncomfortably.
I don't want people to fear me, he thought. I want them to feel safe around me. But how do I accomplish that when my very presence seems to terrify everyone?
Once the villains were secured—Cyborg had summoned some kind of containment transport from Titans Tower—Robin approached David again.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Why now?" Robin gestured at the restrained villains, at the devastated street, at the whole scene. "You've been operating for fifteen years, and in all that time, you've never once helped the Titans. You've never even acknowledged us. So why show up tonight?"
It was a fair question. One David had been asking himself.
"I've been... reevaluating my priorities," he said slowly. "For a long time, I focused on the big threats—world-ending scenarios, cosmic dangers. I told myself that was where I could do the most good."
"And now?"
"Now I realize that was arrogant." David looked at the young heroes around him—teenagers, really, some of them barely old enough to drive. They were out here every night, putting their lives on the line to protect their city. Not because they were the most powerful, but because they cared.
"You and your team," David continued, "you do more good in a single night than I've done in years. You're connected to this city. You know the people, the problems, the things that actually matter to real lives. I just swooped in for the big dramatic moments and then disappeared."
Robin was quiet, processing this.
"That's... surprisingly self-aware," he said finally.
"I'm told I'm having a lot of growth lately."
A small smile tugged at the corner of Robin's mouth. "Well, for what it's worth, you made a difference tonight. We were getting overwhelmed. If you hadn't shown up..."
"You would have figured it out. You're good at what you do."
"Maybe. But it's nice to have backup." Robin extended his hand. "Welcome to Jump City, Omni-Man. Feel free to drop by any time."
David shook his hand, carefully controlling his grip. "Thank you, Robin. I'll take you up on that."
Later, after the villains had been transported and the Titans had returned to their tower, David found himself standing on a rooftop overlooking the city.
The encounter had left him unsettled.
Not because of the fight itself—that had been almost trivially easy. The HIVE Five were small-time villains, and even Cinderblock, for all his size and strength, was no real threat to a Viltrumite. David could have ended the entire battle in seconds if he'd wanted to.
No, what unsettled him was the fear.
The way everyone had looked at him. The way the villains had frozen, their faces pale with terror. The way even the Titans had been wary, keeping their distance, watching him like he might explode at any moment.
Is this what Superman dealt with? David wondered. Did people fear him too, at least at first?
But no—Superman was different. Superman had grown up among humans, had learned their body language and social cues, had cultivated an approachable demeanor that put people at ease. His costume was bright and friendly. His smile was warm and genuine. Even his powers, as devastating as they could be, were often used in gentle, precise ways—catching falling planes, extinguishing fires, rescuing cats from trees.
David, by contrast, was wearing the body of a conqueror. His very presence radiated threat. His costume was stark and militaristic. His face, with its severe features and prominent mustache, looked like it belonged on a wanted poster.
How do I fix this? he thought. How do I become the symbol of hope I want to be when my very existence seems to inspire fear?
The answer, he realized, was time.
Trust couldn't be built in a day. It had to be earned, interaction by interaction, rescue by rescue. He had to show people—through his actions, his words, his choices—that he was different from what they expected. That the power he wielded was in service of protection, not domination.
It would be a long process. Probably years. Maybe decades.
But that's okay, David told himself. I've got time. Viltrumites live for centuries. I can afford to be patient.
He took one last look at the city—the lights, the streets, the millions of lives unfolding in the darkness below—and then launched himself into the sky.
Tomorrow, he had a dinner date with Wonder Woman.
Not a date, he corrected himself immediately. An orientation session. A friendly meeting between colleagues. Nothing romantic about it whatsoever.
Right?
Across the city, in the common room of Titans Tower, the team was having a very different conversation.
"Dude," Beast Boy said, his eyes still wide, "that was Omni-Man. Like, actual Omni-Man. In our city. Helping us."
"We're aware, Beast Boy." Robin was pacing, his mind clearly working overtime. "The question is why."
"Maybe he was just being nice?" Starfire suggested. "He seemed genuinely concerned for our wellbeing."
"Omni-Man doesn't do 'nice,'" Cyborg said, pulling up data on the main screen. "Look at his history. Fifteen years of heroics, and he's never once worked with another team. Never made public appearances. Never even gave an interview. The guy's a ghost."
"A very powerful ghost," Raven added quietly. She was seated in the corner, her hood pulled low. "Did you feel him? When he arrived?"
The others exchanged glances.
"Feel him how?" Robin asked.
"His presence. His... essence." Raven shook her head slowly. "He's different from what I expected. The power is there—more power than I've ever sensed in a single being—but underneath it..."
"Underneath it what?"
Raven was quiet for a long moment.
"Hope," she said finally. "Buried deep, but unmistakable. He wants to help. Really wants to help. It's like... like a fire burning in his core."
"That doesn't match his profile at all," Robin said, frowning. "Everything we know about Omni-Man suggests he's cold, distant, almost mechanical in his heroics."
"Maybe he changed." Starfire floated over to the window, looking out at the city. "People can change, yes? Even very powerful people?"
"Can they?" Beast Boy scratched his head. "I mean, what would make someone like Omni-Man suddenly decide to be friendly?"
No one had an answer.
But across the city, in a modest apartment that hid a secret lair, David Reyes was asking himself the same question—and hoping desperately that he could live up to the change he was trying to embody.
The night was quiet after that.
David patrolled for a few more hours, but the criminal element of Jump City seemed to have collectively decided that tonight was a good night to stay home. Word had apparently spread about Omni-Man's appearance, and no one wanted to risk drawing his attention.
Fear, David thought bitterly. They're hiding because they're afraid of me.
This isn't how it's supposed to work.
Superman didn't inspire fear. Superman inspired hope. When people saw Superman, they felt safe. They felt like everything was going to be okay.
David wanted that. He wanted to be the reason people felt safe, not the reason they hid in their homes.
Baby steps, he reminded himself. You can't undo fifteen years of intimidation in one night. Just keep showing up. Keep helping. Eventually, they'll see who you really are.
He landed on the balcony of his apartment as the first hints of dawn began to color the eastern sky. The hole in the wall from his earlier flight-learning incident was still there—he really needed to do something about that—but otherwise, everything was as he'd left it.
Tomorrow—today, technically—he would continue his work. He would patrol, help where he could, and slowly build the reputation he wanted.
And tonight, he would have dinner with Diana.
Orientation session, he corrected himself. It's an orientation session.
With wine and home-cooked food and a beautiful woman who keeps touching me for no apparent reason.
Perfectly normal superhero stuff.
He walked inside, already planning his approach for the evening. He should probably bring a gift—was that appropriate? What did you bring to a orientation session? Wine? Flowers? A comprehensive PowerPoint presentation on his heroic philosophy?
I have no idea what I'm doing, David admitted to himself. In any of this. The hero stuff, the social stuff, the Diana stuff...
But I'm going to figure it out. One step at a time.
He lay down on his bed—which also creaked alarmingly under his weight—and closed his eyes.
For the first time since waking up in this body, he felt something like peace.
He was making progress. Slowly, imperfectly, but progress nonetheless.
And tomorrow was a new day.