CHAPTER NINE - TESS

Tess Theresa Richter watched the press conference unfold, her sensors attuned to every detail. The feed streamed across countless screens in her servers, analyzed and cataloged as she simultaneously managed emergencies worldwide: a containment breach in Boston, a sudden spike in seismic activity near Iceland, and a rogue Tinker experimenting with volatile tech in Toronto. None of them demanded immediate intervention—not yet.

Her focus returned to Brockton Bay, where Director Piggot stood speaking at the podium. The conference hall, hastily repurposed from a relief center, was filled with journalists, city officials, and civilians—many of them survivors. Despite the somber venue, the mood was lighter than Dragon would have predicted less than two weeks after an Endbringer attack. Victory tended to do that.

But it wasn’t just the triumph over Leviathan that had drawn such a crowd. All eyes, physical and digital, were on the man standing behind Piggot: Superman.

Dragon’s sensors zeroed in on him as he stood tall and composed, his hands clasped lightly behind his back. The red and blue suit he wore was striking, iconic in a way that seemed almost calculated, though nothing in his body language suggested he sought attention. The cape was an unnecessary flourish, impractical in combat, yet it lent him an undeniable air of calm authority.

Piggot, finishing her remarks, turned slightly toward him. “Now, I’m sure many of you are eager to hear from our guest. Allow me to introduce Superman—a hero from another dimension, whose intervention during the Leviathan attack saved countless lives.”

The room erupted in applause, though not everyone clapped. Dragon noted the subtle shifts: skeptical frowns, crossed arms, whispered conversations. She could predict the headlines already. Is Superman Too Good to Be True? A Hero We Didn’t Ask For. What Does This Alien Want?

He began to speak, his voice clear and resonant, easily carrying over the crowd. “Thank you, Director Piggot. And thank you, people of Brockton Bay, for allowing me to speak to you today.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “I know my arrival raises questions. Perhaps even concerns. I hope my actions thus far have shown my intent—to protect and assist this world in any way I can.”

The cameras zoomed in, broadcasting his face to millions across the globe. Dragon monitored the live viewership numbers climbing into the tens of millions. Social media was already ablaze, hashtags and trending topics proliferating faster than she could track.

Questions came quickly, shouted by reporters eager to make their mark.

“Why did you come here?”

Superman’s gaze softened. “I didn’t choose to come here. But now that I’m here, I choose to stay and help. I’ve seen the strength of your people, the bravery in the face of danger. I want to contribute to that.”

A reporter from a major national outlet stood, her voice cutting through the din. “Do you plan to align yourself with the Protectorate? And how do you see yourself fitting into the dynamic of this world’s heroes?”

Superman paused, giving the question the weight it deserved. “I’ve spoken with members of the Protectorate, and I respect the work they’ve done in keeping this world safe. My goal isn’t to overshadow or replace anyone but to stand with them. Together, we can achieve so much more.”

Dragon, analyzing his response, noted how deftly he addressed potential tension without diminishing anyone.

Then came the question Dragon had been waiting for.

“Do you think your presence will make this city a bigger target, especially from groups like the Slaughterhouse Nine, the Teeth, and Fallen?”

The atmosphere shifted and the room fell silent. Superman’s smile faded, replaced by a more solemn expression. “I won’t lie to you,” he said, his voice steady yet low. “My presence may draw the attention of those who seek to test me or harm the people I’ve sworn to protect. But know this: I will never falter in defending this city, this world. I stand here not to bring danger, but to face it. So that you don’t have to.”

Dragon couldn’t help but admire the way he spoke. It wasn’t a promise—it was a statement of fact, delivered with the kind of conviction that made people want to believe.

The final question was lighter, almost a relief.

“What’s next for you, Superman?”

It came from a younger reporter near the front, her voice curious and almost shy.

He chuckled softly, the sound genuine. “Well,” he began, “I will continue helping out with the relief efforts here in Brockton Bay. There’s still so much work to be done—homes to rebuild, people to support. Beyond that, I’ll be doing what I’ve always done: protecting people, wherever and whenever I’m needed.”

The room murmured with approval, some reporters jotting down notes while others exchanged quick glances. His answer felt rehearsed, but not in a disingenuous way. It was as if he’d thought carefully about the weight of his words before stepping onto that stage.

He paused, as though considering something more. “But I also want to learn more about this world—its people, its struggles, its strengths. I’m not just here to fight battles. I’m here to understand, to listen. And, if I can, to inspire.”

The sincerity in his tone made the room fall silent, the usual hum of whispered commentary absent for a moment.

Dragon monitored the reactions closely. The public feed was split: many hailed him as the hero the world needed, while others expressed suspicion, even fear. Superman’s impact, for better or worse, would change a lot of things going forward.

But in that room, at that moment, the crowd seemed willing to believe him.

“And Fugly Bob’s,” he added, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I’ve heard good things.”

Laughter rippled through the audience, and Dragon noted how effortlessly he’d defused the tension.

She recorded everything, her mind spinning with questions she would likely never ask aloud. Could Superman really deliver on the promises he made today? How much could one man change? 

And how much would the world let him?