The impact hits hard. The Hammer of Boravia slams into me and sends me crashing down. I can’t slow myself. My balance is off, vision spinning. I hit the concrete, hard.

Dust kicks up. My ears ring. I try to move, but my limbs feel slow, sluggish. People begin to gather around. I hear voices, some shouting my name, others unsure if they should even get close.

Someone pushes through the crowd and reaches for me. I let you help, one arm around your shoulders. I brace against the pain and pull myself up.

"Thanks..."

I stand, slowly, feeling the weight of the moment press down heavier than the bruises.

I glance up. The Hammer floats above, already turning away, declaring his victory, and that he's leaving. Gone, just like that. I scan the damage. Broken street. Cracked glass. Fear in the air. Three years. Three years of trying to prove that Superman stood for something real. And today, I lost. Publicly.

I exhale and mutter, just loud enough for you to hear..

"...That guy totally had a fake accent."