After his encounter with Luthor, Professor Finn stood perfectly still in the middle of the quiet street—
as if lost in thought. Passing cars and late-night pedestrians moved around him, paying him no attention.
But if anyone had stepped close…
if anyone had looked into his eyes—
They would have seen it.
A faint flicker of green digital light pulsed behind his pupils,
scrolling like lines of code across a holographic screen.
Not thought.
Not reflection.
Data processing.
His mind wasn't wandering—
it was scanning.
Accessing networks.
Tearing through encrypted databases.
Compiling every scrap of information on the mysterious man who had appeared in Gotham.
Alex.
Images of battles, eyewitness accounts, blurred footage of sonic booms, government reports no one was supposed to see—
in seconds, Finn processed it all.
The more he gathered, the more certain he became.
> "Kal-El," he whispered, a tremor of excitement threading through the name, "You're finally here. I knew I'd find you."
His voice carried the tone of a believer recognizing a long-awaited savior.
But then—
his tone shifted.
Warmer, but hollow. Reverent, but cold.
> "General Zod… I'll free you. I swear it."
BOOM!
A tight sonic crack ripped the air apart around him—
and his body vanished.
If Alex had been there, he would have noticed instantly:
Professor Finn's speed was faster than Clark's.
Not just fast—clean, precise, calculated, like a machine executing an optimized command.
Because Finn…
was not human.
Not even close.
He was something far older, far colder—
Brainiac.
Not the name known to the world.
Not yet.
But in truth:
An advanced Kryptonian AI, built under General Zod's command.
A weapon wrapped in flesh.
A strategist without humanity.
When Zod was exiled to the Phantom Zone, Brainiac alone had escaped—
and survived.
But the Phantom Zone was Jor-El's creation.
To break it open, Brainiac needed something Jor-El's technology would respond to.
Bloodline.
DNA.
Jor-El's son.
Kal-El.
So for years, Brainiac hid in plain sight—
as a scientist, a researcher, a professor.
Working with Lex Luthor.
Studying meteor radiation.
Hunting for even the faintest trace of Kryptonian energy.
But Clark Kent had been careful his whole life.
Never public.
Never careless.
To Brainiac… Kal-El had been a ghost.
Until Alex appeared.
A walking arsenal of Kryptonian traits—stronger than Superman, faster than Clark, radiation-resistant, evolution accelerated beyond any Kryptonian baseline.
And tonight—
after so many years—
Brainiac finally believed his search was over.
He thought Alex was Kal-El.
---
Meanwhile—
Alex, unaware of the centuries of obsession closing in around him, returned home.
He leaned back into the quiet of his living room, hands in his pockets, gaze drifting across the ceiling.
The encounter with Luthor replayed once in his mind—
then he dismissed it.
> "Luthor might still try something," Alex murmured, almost amused. "But if he does… I'll handle it."
There was no tension in his voice.
No urgency.
Just simple acknowledgment.
Whether Luthor cooperated or rebelled, the end result wouldn't change.
Alex didn't need to chase small threats.
He was the threat.
He breathed out slowly and muttered to himself:
> "If only Charles were here… this would be easier."
Charles Xavier could've reached into Luthor's mind and folded him into obedience like soft paper.
But dragging another universe's telepath across reality?
Too much trouble.
He was still thinking through potential alternatives when—
BOOM.
The air in his living room rippled.
Someone appeared.
Not breaking a window.
Not opening a door.
Simply there.
Tall.
Dark hair swept back.
Eyes glowing with faint electronic luminescence.
The stranger stared at him with something like awe.
Or devotion.
Or ownership.
> "Kal-El," the man breathed, voice thick with emotion. "I finally found you."
Alex blinked once.
> "...What?"
He didn't even try to hide the confusion.
Kal-El?
Superman?
Oh for god's sake—
again.
He had been mistaken for Clark before, sure. The powers overlapped, the abilities matched.
But this was starting to become a running gag.
Still, there was something much more interesting:
The stranger's energy signature.
It wasn't biological.
Not human.
Not even Kryptonian in the conventional sense.
It was… engineered.
Mechanical intellect.
Patterned cognition.
Digital will.
> "First," Alex said slowly, "I am not Kal-El. Whether you want to thank him, worship him, or kill him—you've got the wrong guy."
His voice didn't rise.
Just steady certainty.
> "Second, you don't walk into my home without my permission." "You leave when I say so."
The stranger's expression twisted with disdain.
> "I've searched for you for five years," he hissed. "I expected the last survivor of Krypton to have more pride. More clarity." "And now that I've finally found you… you dare deny who you are?"
Alex exhaled—long, tired.
> "Believe me. Don't believe me. Doesn't matter." "But you will answer my questions."
His voice sharpened—edges of steel slipping into the tone.
> "Who are you?" "And tell me everything you know about Krypton."
Because Kryptonite—
the fuel he sought—
came from that destroyed world.
And Alex had been circling a very bold idea:
If Kryptonite was the product of a planet's collapse—
could it be made again?
Could Kryptonite be reproduced?
To do that, he needed Kryptonian material science.
Planetary composition.
Explosive collapse models.
He needed data.
> "Let's start with something simple," Alex added quietly. "Krypton's coordinates."
Brainiac's expression turned cold.
> "You still don't understand your position, do you, Kal-El?"
His right arm shimmered— metal rippling like liquid mercury.
It reformed into a gleaming blade, sharp enough to split titanium.
SHING!
He lunged.
Fast.
Faster than a bullet.
Faster than sound.
A blur of lethal intent.
The blade struck Alex's chest—
CLANG.
The impact rang out like steel slammed against granite.
Alex didn't move.
Didn't tense.
Didn't blink.
The blade hadn't pierced his skin.
Hadn't even dented it.
Brainiac froze.
> "Impossible…" he whispered, disbelief crackling through his synthetic voice. "My weaponry is forged from Kryptonian hyper-metal. I have slain Kryptonians with this body—" "How can I not even break your skin?"
Alex looked down at the blade.
Then up at him.
Unimpressed.
> "This is your big move?" "That's it?"
His eyes flared red.
> "Pathetic."
Twin lances of heat vision erupted from his gaze—
ZZZZZT—BOOM!
Brainiac was blasted clear through the wall,
crashed into the street,
and skidded through asphalt and concrete.
Alex stepped through the ruined wall, dust swirling around him like smoke.
No anger.
No urgency.
Simply finality.
> "I told you," he said, voice echoing faintly in the settling rubble,
> "I'm not Superman.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For 60 advanced chapters, visit my Patreon:
Patreon - Twilight_scribe1
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~