DC: Rise Of The Kryptonian Tyrant

"HANDS ON YOUR HEAD AND KNEEL DOWN!"

The command echoed loudly in the warehouse.

The two soldiers, Jack and Mason, stood frozen for a moment, their minds reeling. They had been tasked with guarding a paralyzed man—Bardi—someone who had supposedly been confined to a wheelchair. But now, here he was, standing tall under the golden sunlight, his arms raised skyward in triumph.

The sunlight bathed his figure, outlining him with a faint halo, making him seem divine, as if some ancient god had descended to Earth.

For the first time, they truly saw Bardi's imposing frame.

When seated in his wheelchair, his presence had been subdued, his physique hidden. But now, standing in full view, his towering, muscular figure hit them with an almost physical force. His body was built like a mountain, majestic and overwhelming.

The sheer impact of the sight took their breath away.

When Jack and Mason finally snapped out of their daze, a shiver ran down their spines. It felt as though they were facing something far greater than themselves, something primal and unshakable.

"I TOLD YOU TO KNEEL DOWN WITH YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!"

The unease in their hearts burst forth as they shouted, their voices trembling with fear. Both soldiers raised their M16 rifles, the barrels trained on Bardi's broad back. Their hands, slick with sweat, gripped the weapons tightly, the sunlight glinting off the cold metal and adding to their growing anxiety.

Meanwhile, Jenny stood nearby, her hands clasped over her mouth as tears streamed down her cheeks.

But unlike the soldiers, her tears weren't born of fear. They were tears of joy, relief, and overwhelming emotion.

For months, guilt and self-blame had plagued her, the thought that she had condemned Bardi to a life of paralysis haunting her every waking moment.

And now, miraculously, he was standing again.

To her, the sight was nothing short of a divine miracle.

Bardi, however, was unmoved by their reactions. He let his arms fall to his sides, ignoring the nervous soldiers whose weapons tracked his every movement.

Through his enhanced hearing, he could hear everything: the strained breathing of the soldiers, the faint creak of their fingers tightening around the triggers, and the wild thumping of Jenny's heart.

The world around him was vividly clear, each sound and sensation painting a sharp picture in his mind.

Standing tall and confident, Bardi exuded an aura of dominance. His chest puffed out slightly, his muscles threatening to tear through the fabric of his white fiber suit.

The sunlight kissed his skin, highlighting the sharp contours of his face. His features—so chiseled they seemed sculpted from marble, radiated an indomitable will.

His eyes, deep and shadowed, glinted with a mix of wisdom, cold indifference, and unshakable determination. There was a faint trace of madness in his gaze, a glimpse of something wild and untamed, but it was overpowered by a commanding authority that demanded submission.

The deep scar carved into his face added to his ferocity, marking him as someone who had endured and emerged stronger.

Starting today... no one can bring me down, Bardi thought.

A faint, predatory smile tugged at the corner of his lips, one that sent a shiver through anyone who saw it. His gaze carried such weight that it seemed to strip the world bare, leaving only him as its center.

The only exception was Jenny.

Her love for him blinded her to the danger that radiated from his every pore.

In her eyes, he was her savior, her love—her everything.

Driven by impulse, she stepped forward, her trembling hand reaching out to touch him.

Bardi turned smoothly, and in one swift motion, he pulled her into his arms.

With one hand, he wrapped his strong arm around her slender waist. With the other, he interlaced his fingers with hers, their hands entwined tightly. His broad chest pressed against hers, flattening her against him in an intimate yet commanding embrace.

Jenny let out a small gasp as Bardi dipped her backward, their bodies forming the perfect arch of a dramatic waltz.

The sunlight bathed the two of them in a golden glow, as if spotlighting the climax of some grand performance.

Despite the soldiers' frantic shouts and the cold steel of their raised rifles, Bardi and Jenny seemed oblivious, lost in their own world.

Bardi's hand slid along her waist, feeling the smooth fabric of her dress and the soft curve of her body.

Then, without warning, he leaned down and kissed her deeply.

Jenny melted into the kiss, her body going limp as she surrendered to him completely. The natural, intoxicating scent of her skin filled his senses, untainted by perfumes or cosmetics. It was raw, real, and utterly intoxicating.

For a brief moment, he allowed himself to enjoy it—to relish the feeling of her warmth pressed against him, her hands clutching at his shoulders, her body trembling with emotion.

Jenny clung to him desperately, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear anything else. The strength of his embrace left her waist aching, but even that pain felt like a declaration of his love.

When the kiss ended, she was breathless and dazed, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glazed with adoration.

Bardi straightened, his arms still holding her steady, and looked down into her eyes.

"Jenny Jones," he said, his voice low and commanding, "will you give yourself to me completely?"

Jenny blinked, her expression confused yet eager.

Bardi continued, his tone growing more resolute:

"Will you dedicate everything to me—your body, your mind, your soul? Will you flatter me, believe in me, and serve me with unwavering loyalty for the rest of your life?"

"This isn't a request," he added, his voice a mixture of affection and absolute authority. "This is your destiny."

Jenny, overwhelmed by his words and the intensity of his gaze, nodded eagerly.

"I will, Bardi! I'll do anything for you!" she cried, her voice trembling with devotion.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pressed herself closer to him, desperate for another kiss.

But Bardi gently placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

His expression softened, but there was a distant quality to his gaze, as if he were looking at her from atop some distant throne.

The tenderness in his eyes was still there, but it was no longer the gentle affection she had known. It had been replaced by something colder, more detached—like a king gazing upon a loyal subject.

"LET HER GO!"

The shout shattered the moment, dragging them back to reality.

Jack stood trembling, his M16 rifle trained on Bardi, his voice breaking under the strain of his fear.

Despite his efforts to appear commanding, his hands shook visibly, his palms slick with sweat as he gripped the gun tightly.

To him, Bardi no longer seemed like a man. He was something far more dangerous, a force of nature, a predator that couldn't be tamed.

"CALL COLONEL SLADE!" Jack shouted again, his voice bordering on panic.

Mason, equally shaken, fumbled for his walkie-talkie, his fingers trembling as he tried to follow the order.

Meanwhile, Bardi released Jenny gently, stepping aside as if to give her space.

But his movements drew Jack's attention immediately, the barrel of the rifle tracking his every step.

"I SAID STOP!" Jack roared, his voice cracking as he squeezed the trigger.

His sweaty palms repeatedly gripped the gun handle and magazine, a desperate attempt to steady himself as anxiety clawed at his chest.

Bardi, however, remained indifferent. He advanced toward Jack with an unhurried stride.

His expressionless face was like an invisible hand pressing down on Jack, creating an unbearable sense of pressure.

"Ahhh!!"

Jack's eyes widened as a string in his mind snapped. With a guttural yell, he pulled the trigger, and the muzzle of the M16 roared to life, flames spitting from its barrel.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

One by one, brass casings clattered to the floor as copper bullets shot out of the dark barrel, their deadly trajectories cutting through the air.

Bardi's eyes narrowed, his calm demeanor hardening ever so slightly. He caught a glimpse of the faint, blurred shape of the warheads slicing through the air, breaking the sound barrier in a flash. He could see the sonic boom trailing behind them, the bullets leaving red-hot trails as they hurtled toward him.

At this stage, Bardi knew he lacked the ability to physically overpower firearms. However, with his heightened senses, he could detect everything—everything. He could hear the faint sound of Jack pulling the trigger, the mechanical click of bullets being chambered, the sharp crack of gunpowder igniting in the barrel. These sounds painted a vivid picture in his mind, one more precise than sight.

Bullets, after all, traveled in straight lines.

To Bardi's superhuman hearing, the bullet's direction, speed, and trajectory were crystal clear. He didn't need to see them. He could hear the argument of the air itself.

And then, suddenly—

Bardi's figure blurred. His movements left ghostly afterimages as he darted left and right, weaving between the storm of bullets with uncanny precision. It was as if he were gliding through the deadly barrage, his foresight allowing him to anticipate every trajectory with absolute clarity.

The deafening gunfire filled the warehouse, mingling with the rushing sound of disturbed air as bullets cut through the space. But louder than even the gunfire was the presence of Bardi, his sheer momentum filling the room with an almost tangible force.

Jack's horror deepened with every passing moment. He watched, frozen, as Bardi moved through the storm of bullets with ease, his figure seemingly untouchable. Despite firing relentlessly, Jack couldn't land a single hit. To him, it was as though Bardi were swimming in a sea of bullets, effortlessly dodging each one.

Jack's eyes struggled to follow him. Though he could see Bardi's figure clearly, the bullets, the very things he relied on to kill, appeared sluggish in comparison. Each round fired from the muzzle seemed hopelessly slow, as if reality itself had been bent to favor this monstrous man.

The bullets missed by the smallest of margins, grazing close enough to Bardi's skin to leave a faint, searing sensation but never touching him.

"Click… click… click…"

The rifle's magazine ran dry with a hollow sound, and Jack let out a panicked scream. His finger remained locked on the trigger, trembling as he kept pulling it even though no more bullets came out. His hands shook violently, his eyes wide with disbelief and fear.

His gaze dropped to the M16 in his hands, staring at it as if it had betrayed him. His mind spiraled with disbelief. Was this still a gun? Or had it somehow become useless in his hands? How could someone—anyone—be faster than a bullet?

But it wasn't about speed. It wasn't that Bardi was faster than the bullets. It was that he had already predicted the trajectory of each one before it even left the barrel. He had anticipated everything.

Before Jack could process his despair, Bardi appeared beside him. It was as if he'd materialized out of thin air. Jack's heart stopped as he lifted his head to look up at him.

What he saw froze him in place, Bardi's towering form loomed over him, and his cold, unyielding eyes bore down on him as if he were nothing more than an insect beneath a giant's gaze.