DC: Rise Of The Kryptonian Tyrant

It felt like those cold, detached eyes were staring at Jack through the barrel of a gun, boring into his soul.

In a panic, Jack pulled the M9 pistol from the holster strapped to his thigh, his trembling hands fumbling to aim it. His movements were swift and practiced, the result of years of training—but it was far too late.

"Boom!"

Bardi's right leg whipped out with the force of a wrecking ball, striking Jack's waist with brutal precision, as if swatting away a piece of trash.

"Ahhh!"

A bloodcurdling scream erupted from Jack as his spine shattered like brittle wood under the sheer force of the blow. His body crumpled, folding unnaturally around Bardi's leg, his waist now twisted into a grotesque shape resembling a broken rag doll. With a dismissive sweep of his leg, Bardi sent him flying.

Jack's body smashed into the warehouse wall more than ten meters away. The impact caused his blood vessels to burst, splattering crimson streaks across the cold concrete. His muscles tore apart, and pieces of flesh and bone painted the wall with a gory mess that was both shocking and grotesque.

Jack's face was frozen in a mask of terror, his wide, bloodshot eyes bulging grotesquely as his body twitched involuntarily. He slid slowly down the wall, leaving behind a gruesome trail of blood.

The cold, dead silence in the warehouse was suffocating. The air seemed thick with the stench of death, and the cruel scene painted a picture of despair. It was as if someone had thrown a water balloon filled with blood against the wall, leaving behind a macabre display of violence.

Jenny screamed, her hands flying to her mouth to stifle the sound as her eyes widened in horror. She could barely comprehend what she had just witnessed.

Masson, another soldier, stood frozen in place. The shock was written plainly across his face as he processed the grisly sight. His colleague had been flung through the air like a broken doll, leaving behind a trail of carnage before collapsing into a heap of mangled flesh.

For a moment, Masson's gaze lingered on the wall where Jack had landed. His colleague's bloodied, lifeless face was still contorted with terror, his bulging eyes staring blankly into nothingness. The blood splattered across the concrete looked like a grotesque flower blossoming in death.

Masson's thoughts raced, panic gripping him. He couldn't help but feel a surge of relief that he hadn't opened fire earlier like Jack. His hesitation had inadvertently saved him—at least for now.

"Zzzt… Soldier, report! Report! What's happening down there?!"

The harsh, crackling voice of Slade cut through the stillness, the walkie-talkie in Masson's trembling hands crackling with static.

Masson's entire body stiffened as if he'd been struck by lightning. His fingers shook violently, the walkie-talkie feeling unbearably heavy in his grip. His throat was dry, as though all the moisture in his body had evaporated, leaving him unable to swallow.

The device felt like a live grenade in his hands, its weight almost too much to bear. He wished he could throw it away, pretend he'd never heard the call. But then his eyes darted toward Bardi, who stood next to him with a calm, almost amused expression.

Bardi's faint smile was chilling, devoid of warmth. "Report honestly, soldier."

Masson's hands shook as he brought the walkie-talkie closer, sweat streaming down his face. His voice came out in stammering, halting words.

"C-Co…Colonel, the alien…he…he regained mobility…k-kicked Jack…to death."

The moment Masson finished his report, he swallowed hard, finally managing to produce a small amount of saliva to ease the dryness in his throat.

The other end of the line went eerily silent. Then, Slade's voice erupted from the walkie-talkie, a growl of rage that came from deep within his chest.

"Bardi!"

Masson glanced at Bardi nervously, unsure how to respond to his commander's furious outburst.

Bardi, however, nodded lightly, seemingly satisfied by Slade's anger. His cold gaze shifted downward, landing on the M9 pistol strapped to Masson's thigh.

Without a word, Bardi reached down and pulled the pistol free. He flipped the safety off and inspected the weapon with the detached curiosity of someone handling a toy rather than a tool of death.

Masson's entire body tensed. He could feel the weight of the M16 automatic rifle hanging from the strap around his chest, and a wild, desperate thought surged through his mind. Maybe, just maybe, if he raised the rifle now, he could take Bardi out.

But fear paralyzed him.

He had seen Jack fire thirty rounds at point-blank range with the M16, each shot a precise burst of deadly intent. The rifle had a rate of fire of 900 rounds per minute, with bullets that traveled at 975 meters per second, deadly accurate within 550 meters.

And yet, Jack had failed. Every single bullet had missed its mark. And Jack's reward for his efforts? Death, swift and brutal.

Masson's confidence in his weapon evaporated completely. His hands shook as Bardi calmly waved at him to hand over the walkie-talkie. Masson hesitated, but under the weight of Bardi's icy gaze, he had no choice. He extended the device with trembling hands.

Bardi took the walkie-talkie and pressed the button. His voice, cold and sharp, rang out. "Slade, you've always prided yourself on being clever, haven't you? But in my eyes, you're just as foolish as the rest."

With that, Bardi raised the M9 pistol.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Nine shots echoed in the warehouse, each bullet finding its mark in Masson's chest and heart. Blood sprayed across the floor as the soldier collapsed, his screams cut short as life fled his body.

From the moment they had first felt a chill in their hearts toward Bardi, their fates had already been sealed.

On the other end of the walkie-talkie, Slade clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding audibly as he listened to the sounds of Masson's demise.

"It was all your plan, wasn't it?" Slade growled, his voice heavy with fury and frustration. "From the moment you woke up, you've been orchestrating this."

Bardi's voice came back, cutting through Slade's words with a cruel indifference. "Colonel Slade, you're far too naive. Every thought you've had, every move you've made—I've anticipated it all. Your willpower is weak. That's why you failed to keep me confined in your underground prison."

Bardi raised the M9 pistol, aiming it directly at Jenny.

Jenny froze, staring at the weapon pointed at her. Her mind went blank, unable to process the situation. She stood there in stunned disbelief, overwhelmed by a single question that echoed in her thoughts:

The man she loved—Bardi—was pointing a gun at her.

"Do you think you can escape, Bardi? You can't break through the fully equipped brigade above ground. Thousands of soldiers, fully armed. There's no way out!"

Slade's voice crackled with fury through the walkie-talkie, nearly a roar of defiance.

Bang!

The sharp crack of a gunshot echoed from the walkie-talkie.

A blood-red hole blossomed just below Jenny's delicate right collarbone, staining her crimson dress darker. The vivid scarlet spread quickly, the fabric soaked with her blood.

The sound pulled Jenny out of her daze. Her pale face twisted with disbelief as she stared at Bardi, her voice trembling. "Bardi… Aren't we in love?"

Another gunshot rang out.

This time, the bullet struck above her heart. Her shoulders shuddered as her body crumpled like a fragile, bloodied flower swaying helplessly in the sunlight.

But Jenny didn't feel the pain, only the deafening roar of Bardi's gunshots consumed her.

"Don't make love sound so noble," Bardi said coldly, his face devoid of emotion.

His voice and the sound of gunfire filtered through the walkie-talkie, reaching Slade's ears.

"Everything I've done is by my own efforts," Bardi continued, his tone harsh, unrelenting. "Didn't you dedicate everything to me? Then, do as I command—die for me."

With those words, Bardi fired the last bullet.

Jenny's eyes went blank. Her mind was a whirl of confusion and shock. Blood dripped down her dress, turning it an even deeper shade of red as her body collapsed to the ground.

Beneath the sun streaming through the cracks in the warehouse and the splashes of crimson on her dress, Jenny looked like something otherworldly, a vision of tragedy, almost demonic in her despair.

The M9 clicked, empty. No bullets remained.

Bardi let out a quiet sigh, almost as if he felt some small measure of relief.

Slade had been wrong. Bardi did have the strength to fight through the thousands of soldiers above, but he didn't have the strength to protect Jenny.

His Kryptonian genes had only just awakened. He wasn't invincible. He wasn't yet impervious to bullets, nor could he fly. His body, while immensely powerful, wasn't indestructible. He was still vulnerable, and any attempt to escape with Jenny would only end in her death.

He might have been a god alone, a demon capable of cutting through swathes of enemies.

But with Jenny at his side, she'd be nothing more than a lifeless corpse by the time they reached the surface.

Slade's voice crackled once more through the walkie-talkie. "Bardi. You truly are a cruel and tyrannical beast."

Bardi's expression didn't shift at Slade's words. He glanced at Jenny's lifeless form, her blood pooling beneath her, staining the concrete. His gaze lingered on the red box in front of her, its lid slightly ajar to reveal a small ring.

He remained silent for a moment, calculating. By his estimation, Jenny still had a few minutes before she bled out.

She wouldn't die—not yet.

Perhaps in the future, Jenny would come to hate him deeply for what he had done. She might even curse his name.

But that didn't matter to Bardi.

If she couldn't understand why he had pulled the trigger, then let her hate him. Let her resent him for playing with her feelings.

On Krypton, he had betrayed everything to get what he wanted.

And here, nothing had changed.

A fire burned in Bardi's chest, a fierce, brutal flame that raged alongside the blood coursing through his veins. Anger churned within him, anger at himself, anger at everything—but he buried it deep. Suppressing it.

Rage without purpose was meaningless. It needed direction. It needed destruction.

Bardi's anger was both consuming and controlled, a searing force that sharpened his focus. His evolved mind, bolstered by his exposure to the sun, began to piece together a plan. He scanned his surroundings, methodically plotting how to destroy everything in this place.

He spoke, his voice icy and cruel, cutting through the air like a blade.

"Slade, I know there's an army waiting for me above. I know you're stationed at the entrance to this warehouse, with the entirety of the negative floor soldiers gathered, ready to gun me down the moment I step outside."

"You've been wrong about me from the very beginning. I'm not heading toward the surface."

"Keep guarding, Slade Wilson. Keep waiting for me to fall into your trap. You'll fail. And when you do, all of you will die."

Bardi's cold eyes swept over Jenny one final time.

She lay in a pool of her own blood, her trembling fingers reaching feebly toward the small red box. It seemed as though, even in her weakened state, she was still trying to grasp the ring inside.

Bardi's anger flared hotter at the sight, his face hardening like ice. Without another word, he crushed the walkie-talkie in his hand, the shattered pieces falling to the ground.

Then, without looking back, he turned and walked toward the warehouse door.

*****

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