Ethan walked through Metropolis at a slow pace, while he had a lot to do he’d never left Gotham before and he wanted to take it all in.
Metropolis.
He’d seen it in various pictures and videos, but none of that compared to actually seeing it in person.
Gotham and Metropolis stood less than thirty miles apart.
The distance between them could be crossed in less than an hour.
Yet they were not only two different cities.
They were two different worlds.
In Gotham, people walked with their heads low.
They expected nothing from the day except what they could hold on to by force.
In Metropolis, people moved as if they believed tomorrow would give them more than today.
They spoke with strangers without suspicion.
They lived as though safety was not only real, but a guarantee of their daily lives.
Ethan wondered if Gotham could ever reach that point.
He wondered if years of broken people, broken laws, and broken lives could be undone with enough time and enough will.
It was easy to think that order could be imposed, and that once the gangs and the crooked officers were gone the city would breathe again.
But Gotham was more than crime.
Gotham was something built into the people who lived there.
It shaped them, and they shaped it in return.
Metropolis looked like the height of human will.
Gotham looked like the depth of human failure.
Ethan thought on which of the two was closer to the truth.
People liked to believe in progress, in better lives, in the chance to climb higher.
That was Metropolis.
But people also tore down what they could not hold.
People took from others when they had nothing of their own.
People trusted no one but themselves.
That was Gotham.
Both existed.
Both seemed to be human.
If that was the case then perhaps Gotham was the more honest of the two.
Metropolis might only be possible because men like Superman kept it standing.
If you removed him and removed the safety net he gave then maybe the city would fall into the same spiral as Gotham.
Gotham did not need to fall.
Gotham had always been that way.
People were born into it and they learned to survive in it.
They adapted to hunger, to violence, to corruption, until they became as much a part of it as the bricks in the buildings.
Ethan considered if he should hope for change.
He had lived in Gotham his whole life and it had given him nothing.
Yet he felt a pull when he walked through Metropolis.
It was not envy.
It was not wonder.
It was a need to understand if the difference was real or if it was only skin deep.
He wanted to know if the smiles on the faces around him came from a true place or if they were as thin as the glass towers they lived in.
Metropolis might be what people wanted to believe they were.
Gotham might be what they really were when stripped of the chance to pretend.
Ethan did not know which one he respected more.
He walked on in silence and let the thought turn over and over in his mind.
He also thought about each of the people he had come here for.
He had plans for each of the four targets.
Each one would fall quickly if the plan went off without a hitch.
The real problem wasn’t if he could do it.
No.
The real problem came in red and blue spandex.
Superman.
The man’s hearing stretched across the city and maybe farther.
It picked up heartbeats in crowds.
It caught whispers from blocks away.
If one target screamed for help, Superman would arrive before Ethan even finished knocking them out.
Four targets meant four chances for a cry.
While he was confident that he could pull off each plan without summoning the Boy Scout, four targets meant four chances for something to go wrong and if Superman were to show up then it was game over, nothing he had right now would be able to contend with the powerhouse.
He needed a distraction.
Something big enough to pull Superman away and have him focusing on it so much that any screams he heard wouldn’t pull him away.
Something that forced him to act.
Ethan had such a distraction, a plan he had built step by step. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
He stopped at a bench and sat down.
The wood felt smooth under his hands.
It wasn’t a very complicated plan, but there was no doubt at all it carried its own risk.
Step one: Acquire the chemicals.
Potassium permanganate from a hospital lab supply store, as well as Glycerol and ethanol.
Magnesium strips from a hardware shop, he could also get an oxygen tank from patient care at the hospital.
Step two: Assemble the ignition setup.
Find a quiet spot.
A storage room or empty closet.
Mix the potassium permanganate and glycerol in a sealed container.
Add a small valve.
Connect it to a timer.
Use a digital timer modified with wires from a battery pack.
The delay would trigger a pin to release the mix.
Step three: Add the magnesium powder around the container.
It would burn hot once lit.
Soak rags in ethanol nearby.
They would vaporize and spread the fire.
Rig the oxygen tank with a valve opener tied to the same timer.
The gas would feed the flames just before ignition.
Step four: Set the timer for ten to fifteen minutes.
That gave time to leave.
Use a side door or service exit.
If he has followed everyone’s schedules correctly then around this time he should be able to hit all 4 of them in 30-40 minutes.
Step five: Activate the timer.
When it hits zero the fire would start slowly.
Then it would grow quickly.
Superman would arrive and would fly in to help.
But his super breath would fan the oxygen and feed the magnesium.
The flames would flare higher and temporarily cause more distraction.
That would buy Ethan the window he needed.
Ethan leaned back on the bench as he considered the risks.
A hospital made sense as it would draw superman’s full attention.
But it came with the risk that it would kill people which he wasn’t sure he would want.
He thought for a moment.
The roof of a hospital worked better.
Less damage inside.
Stairs and elevators would clear people fast.
Superman would spot it from the sky and there would be much less mess and it would be unlikely for anyone to die.
‘Alright…
Time to get to work.’
…
Ethan moved through the streets of Metropolis with slowly, trying to adjust his pace to match those around him, blending into the midday crowd; people in Gotham walked as if they were just about to break into a sprint, which wasn’t too surprising considering you likely would have to start running nine times out of ten.
Twenty minutes later, he reached the hospital district, where tall white buildings with gleaming glass facades reflected the sun without a hint of grime or cracks, Ethan even noted the lack of drug addicts sleeping on the sidewalk outside.
No one gave him a second glance as he entered the building and approached the badge scanner for employees.
When he walked in he intentionally brushed past one of the doctors and lifted his ID.
He brushed his fingers over the stolen doctor’s ID and used it to gain access and head upstairs to the supply room.
On the third floor, he scanned it at the supply closet, the lock clicking open to reveal neatly stocked shelves.
He quickly filled a duffel bag with what he needed: potassium permanganate crystals from the chem lab kit, glycerol from the pharmacy cart, ethanol bottles from the sterilization shelf, and an oxygen tank.
Each item was placed carefully to avoid clinking as he zipped the bag shut and exited, the halls empty during shift change.
He walked upstairs ti the roof where he sat down behind the entryway.
In the shade of a wall, he worked quickly: mixing the potassium permanganate and glycerol in a sealed plastic container, the purple crystals dissolving into a viscous slurry.
He capped it with a valve rigged to a digital timer.
The setup would trigger a pin to puncture the seal after ten minutes.
He sprinkled magnesium powder around the base for a sustained burn, arranged ethanol-soaked rags in a circle to vaporize on ignition, and positioned the oxygen tank nearby, its valve tied to the same circuit—a spring-loaded clip ready to flood the area with gas just before the spark.
He placed the backpack near the center, away from vents that might draw in the fumes too soon, and set the timer.
The digital display began counting down from 10:00 as he backed away, slipping through the door and descending two flights to the lobby.
There, he melted into the crowd of visitors, before exiting and walking a block to a coffee shop with a view of the roofline.
He ordered a black coffee and sat by the window, sipping slowly while watching the seconds tick by on his watch.
The city remained oblivious until exactly ten minutes later.
A muffled whoomph erupted from the rooftop, followed by flames licking over the parapet.
Orange tongues spread fast as the ethanol vapors ignited, magnesium flaring in white-hot bursts fed by the released oxygen. Find the original chapter at g.com.
The fire roared upward in a pillar, drawing shouts from below.
Sirens wailed almost immediately, but Ethan kept his eyes on the sky.
A blue streak broke through the clouds—Superman arriving in seconds.
He hovered above the blaze, his super breath gusting out to douse it, but it only whipped the oxygen into a frenzy.
Flames flared higher, spitting magnesium embers that reignited pockets on the gravel.
He dove lower, punching through a roof section to vent the heat, while grabbing a rooftop hose, only for the water to spark hydrogen pops from the metal strips.
Ethan watched with a blank expression, the plan unfolding precisely as planned.
A large amount of satisfaction settled in his chest.
With the duffel bag over his shoulder, he headed to his first target; an apartment building off Centennial Park.
In a side entrance stairwell alcove, he changed into a plumber’s outfit topped with an itchy blonde wig and a fake beard.
A quick check in his bag’s mirror showed a nondescript middle-aged man.
He shouldered a toolbox filled with pipes and wrenches for show and climbed to the fourth floor, to door 4B: David Helbaum’s.
He knocked three times and waited.
Footsteps approached, and the door opened to reveal David Helbaum, a lanky mid-twenties guy with tousled brown hair and a friendly smile, in a graphic tee and jeans.
“Can I help you?” David Helbaum asked with a smile on his face.
Ethan smiled back, pitching his voice lower than normal.
“Morning, sir.
Name’s Tom Reilly with Metro Plumbing Services.
The Landlord has sent me to check the water pressure.
We’re adjusting the building’s water supply lines today, won’t take but a minute.”
David Helbaum’s eyes lit up, and he stepped back.
“Oh, sure, come on in.
Didn’t know about that, but hey, free check-up’s a free check-up.
Want some coffee?
I just brewed a pot, keeps me going through these late shifts.”
Ethan entered, closing the door with a soft click.
The apartment was tidy, bookshelves lining walls, sunlight streaming through clean windows overlooking the park.
A jolt of surprise hit him, he’d expected resistance, a door chain, or credential checks.
But David Helbaum had let him in without hesitation, even turning his back to pour two mugs at the kitchen counter.
Truth be told, Ethan felt a bit silly.
He’d prepped contingencies, fake IDs, backup stories.
All unnecessary in this trusting city.
But it didn’t matter now.
Because the power called to him from across the room…
a subtle hum in his veins, quickening his pulse as David Helbaum poured.
Ethan pulled a rag from his toolbox, doused it with chloroform, and moved silently behind him.
He clamped the cloth over David Helbaum’s mouth and nose, muffling a startled grunt.
David Helbaum tensed and tried to struggle, but the chemical worked fast.
His limbs went slack, and Ethan held him until the twitching stopped, lowering the unconscious body to the floor, the rug cushioning the fall.
‘Pretty easy,’ Ethan thought, kneeling beside him.
Being so close now he could almost sniff the meta-power, it pulsed like a second heartbeat under his skin.
He pressed his fingers to David Helbaum’s neck, at the pulse point where the energy gathered strongest, and pulled.
It resisted at first, like a thread snagged on a hook, but in the end it couldn’t resist him and it yielded.
Ethan consumed it, the rush flooding his senses, his vision sharpening, a euphoric tingle spreading from his chest.
He stood slowly, the new ability humming within his veins.
Unlike hyperadrenal, this power demanded no strain.
Just a toggle, on or off at will.
Ethan moved to the living room window, opened it, and stepped onto the fire escape.
The metal groaned, but he leaped to the railing, vaulting over in an easy flip to the next landing.
The agility made each motion instinctive, his limbs anticipating paths before his mind did.
He dropped another story in one bound, his knees absorbing the impact smoothly, then cartwheeled across the platform to the opposite building’s ledge.
Hands and feet gripped brick like they belonged there.
He pulled himself up, balancing on the edge with one hand dangling over the void, the city below feeling almost too navigable.
Smiling widely as the rush settled he hopped back inside.
He then put on some clothes and then rifled drawers for cash, pocketing a few hundred from a nightstand envelope to stage a burglary.
He scattered drawers, knocked over a lamp and left.
He now had his second power and in just under an hour he would have his third, fourth and fifth.
A smile formed on Ethan’s face as he thought about it.
(AN: tbh the likelihood this plan would work is pretty low, I mean it’s superman, bro would literally be done in five seconds and be back to fuck you in ways you didn’t know were possible.
Anyway hope you enjoyed.)
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