DC: Rise Of The Kryptonian Tyrant

Bori trembled as though his legs might give out. He couldn't keep himself hidden under the desk any longer.

"It's… it's you, Bardi." His voice wavered as he forced a thin, unconvincing smile onto his gaunt face. He emerged slowly from under the desk, his frail body shaking. An M4 carbine dangled from a strap across his chest, but the sight of Bardi's indifferent gaze made the weapon feel unbearably heavy, almost scalding against his chest.

With trembling hands, Bori quickly unbuckled the strap and placed the rifle on the desk, fumbling for words. "This is… it's for… for…" His voice trailed off as his courage failed him. He couldn't bring himself to admit the truth—that he had kept the rifle close out of fear of Bardi.

But they both knew the truth.

Bardi's blank expression didn't waver as he watched Bori. The old man had clearly seen what happened on the floors above. From the first floor to this one, over 500 people lay dead. The sheer scale of the massacre had shattered any illusion of resistance.

Bori was just a researcher, a scientist. He couldn't hope to stand against a force like Bardi, a living embodiment of death.

Bardi had a keen sense for reading people, and Bori was no exception. The man was vain, greedy, cowardly, and ruthlessly self-serving. Years ago, he had started using Jenny to exploit her unparalleled intellect, harvesting her research to build his own reputation and claim the accolades that came with it.

Bardi knew this all too well. Jenny had told him everything.

The scientific breakthroughs Bori had become famous for weren't his own. They belonged to Jenny. And yet, she had never objected. Bardi knew Jenny well, she didn't care about fame or recognition. For her, scientific discovery was its own reward. Bori had provided her with the ideal environment to focus entirely on her work, free of distractions and responsibilities, and she had been content to let him take credit.

It was the perfect arrangement for Bori, who played the role of a benefactor while quietly basking in the glory of Jenny's genius. Without her, Bori would never have achieved the success he enjoyed.

As Bardi thought of Jenny, a faint flicker of gentleness crossed his otherwise cold expression.

"Dean Bori," Bardi said, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable weight. "You're Jenny's teacher. I won't kill you."

Bori froze, his blood running cold. For a moment, he stared at Bardi in stunned silence, unable to comprehend what he had just heard.

Of all the people in the facility, Bardi had spared no one except for the maimed and Jenny. Floors littered with corpses testified to his merciless efficiency. Yet now, he was declaring that Bori—of all people—would be spared.

It was unthinkable.

The old man's wide, tearful eyes searched Bardi's face for any sign of deceit. Slowly, the weight of relief began to sink in, and his lips quivered as he spoke.

"You… you mean it? Truly?"

For a man as calculating as Bori, who always managed to present himself as composed and confident, his voice now wavered like a child's. This reprieve was a greater joy than any award or accolade he had ever received. Fame was meaningless if you weren't alive to enjoy it.

Bardi gave a slight nod. "You're her teacher. To her, you're like a father figure. So you'll live. From now on, take care of her for me. If she wants to study, let her study. If she seeks revenge, let her find me. Let her live how she wants to live."

Bori froze for a moment, stunned. He hadn't expected that his life was spared because of Jenny's connection to Bardi.

Then, a wave of realization swept over him, and he felt a jolt of unease.

It suddenly dawned on him why Jenny had been shot by Bardi but not killed, why she had only curled up, crying. It was all a calculated move to sever their connection, to shield Jenny from suspicion. Even the thirty-one crippled soldiers, it wasn't random brutality. Bardi had deliberately left them alive as part of Jenny's salvation.

And now, his own life had been spared solely because of Jenny's importance to him.

Bori's heart raced. Relief mingled with a nervous gratitude as he considered the situation. He felt lucky that Bardi had a genuine attachment to Jenny, and perhaps equally fortunate that he had never been too harsh on Bardi during their earlier interactions.

But even as he tried to reassure himself, doubt gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. What if Bardi was lying? What if Slade had been right, that Bardi's only goal was to reach the negative fourth floor and retrieve something critical? And once Bardi had it, would Bori's life still hold any value?

Bori wanted to believe Bardi's words, but a deep unease remained.

Then, Bardi's calm voice broke the silence.

"At the same time, I'm here to take back something of mine, Bori. You should know what I'm talking about."

Bori's heart sank.

"The... 'key'?" he stammered hesitantly, his voice barely audible.

Bardi gave a slight nod. "That 'key' is vital. Even if I die in this underground base, I must ensure I go down with it. Please Bori, return it to me."

Bardi's tone was steady but firm, leaving no room for refusal.

The key Bardi referred to was more than just an object. It contained the artificial intelligence he had been developing on Krypton, a critical tool that would enable him to not only conquer Earth but also refine his own genetic structure. It was essential for his long-term plans: dealing with the House of El, facing the inevitable confrontation with Superman, Clark Kent, and extracting the genetic code of life to improve himself.

Without that AI, Bardi's ambitions would be all but impossible to achieve.

He had thought far ahead, decades into the future. In 20 or 30 years, Earth would enter an era where heroes and gods roamed freely, and villains would struggle to survive under their collective might. Bardi knew he was destined to stand as an enemy to the entire world, pitted against its greatest champions.

The stakes were clear. No matter the cost, the key had to be reclaimed.

Bori hesitated, his face a mask of indecision. He knew his life depended on the key, but it was precisely because of his survival instinct that he hesitated. That key was valuable, not only to Bardi but to anyone who wanted leverage over him.

Looking at Bardi's impassive face, Bori felt a chill seep into his bones. If he refused to hand over the key, would he die here?

The cold, indifferent look in Bardi's eyes was enough to make him shudder. He couldn't afford to guess wrong. He didn't want to die.

"I'll... I'll go get it for you," Bori finally said, his voice trembling.

Bardi's expression softened slightly, and a faint smile touched his lips. He stood up slowly, pushing the chair back with his knees.

The sound of the chair scraping against the floor startled Bori.

His body stiffened, and for a moment, his mind raced with panic. Was Bardi about to attack him? No—he quickly realized Bardi only intended to follow him.

Even so, Bori's nerves were on edge, and his voice faltered as he tried to speak. "Just... just wait here. I'll bring it to you."

He forced the words out, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst.

For a moment, Bardi simply stared at him. Then he nodded, his slight smile still in place. "Okay," he said, pulling the chair back toward himself and sitting down once again.

Bori exhaled shakily, relief flooding through him. His hands were trembling, and he shoved them into his pockets to hide the motion. His fists unclenched, but when he opened the office door, he noticed that his palms were drenched in sweat.

***

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