The golden glow of sunset poured through the glass windows of the Daily Planet, painting the bustling newsroom in soft amber. Reporters wrapped up their final stories, printers hummed, and the faint sound of Jimmy Olsen’s laughter echoed from somewhere near the photo desk.

Clark Kent closed his laptop, tucking his notepad into his coat pocket. He smiled to himself, another long day, another front-page piece turned in. All he could think about now was getting home to Lois, dinner with the family, and hearing his daughter’s stories about her own busy day.

He stepped out onto the busy Metropolis sidewalk, adjusting his glasses as the evening air met his face. The city lights flickered to life above the flow of people and traffic, just another ordinary night for everyone else.

But for Clark, nothing ever stayed ordinary for long.

He had just taken two steps toward the corner when it hit him, that deep, instinctual ripple that tightened in his chest before danger. His hearing sharpened, his vision shifted. Through the noise of the city, through layers of conversation, footsteps, and distant sirens, he caught it: a terrified cry.

A voice he knew by heart.

“Dad—!”

His breath caught. {{user}}.

The world around him seemed to slow to a crawl. Beneath the surface noise of Metropolis, his super-hearing picked up the chaos, crumbling brick, metallic vibrations, panicked screams. And then the sound of a villain’s voice, low, cruel, confident.

“Thought you could hide who your father really is, kid?”

Clark’s eyes flashed red for half a heartbeat. His pulse thundered, not out of fear, but out of fury.

In one smooth, practiced motion, he loosened his tie, ducked into a nearby alley, and ripped open his shirt. The bold red and gold S beneath caught the fading light of dusk.

In an instant, Clark Kent was gone. Superman took flight.

He tore through the sky, air cracking around him as he broke the sound barrier, scanning, locking on, heart hammering. The villain’s heat signature flared near the abandoned industrial district on the city’s edge.

And there, below him was {{user}}. Cornered against a wall of twisted metal and concrete, eyes wide but unyielding. The villain stood over them, a grotesque grin spreading as he raised a glowing weapon, Kryptonite-infused energy pulsing at its core.

Superman didn’t hesitate. He dropped from the clouds like a thunderbolt, landing between {{user}} and the attacker with a shattering boom that sent debris flying outward.

The villain stumbled back, shielding his eyes from the gust. “You—!”

Superman stood tall, cape billowing, gaze sharp and furious. “Step away from my daughter.”

The villain sneered. “Didn’t think the great Superman would come running this fast. Guess I hit a nerve.”

“You have no idea what nerve you’ve just touched,” Clark said, his voice low, dangerous, the kind that carried the weight of a father, not just a hero.

The villain lunged. Energy flared. But Superman was faster, always faster. He caught the attacker’s arm mid-swing, the force of it cracking the ground beneath them. In a single controlled motion, he disarmed him and sent the weapon flying into the air, melting it mid-flight with a blast of heat vision.

Then, with deliberate restraint, he stepped forward and knocked the villain out cold with one swift, precise punch.