"Freedom Fighters take down metahuman trafficking ring in Chicago."
That was the headline blasting from the radio the first time I ever heard the word metahuman. Not only that—but there was even an actual superhero team with a name here already, the Freedom Fighters.
The impact on my tiny baby brain was nothing less than world-shattering.
If metahumans were already public knowledge, then that meant Superman wouldn't be the first hero of this world. He wouldn't even be special in that sense. My destiny of being the trailblazing superhero was officially ruined before I could even take flight!
Martha was baffled when I sat in the corner pouting, refusing even to drink warm milk. I was genuinely upset. This revelation didn't just bruise my ego—it also meant this world was far more dangerous than I thought. Supervillains were practically guaranteed.
Of course, my new mother's gentle persistence won out. I ended up drinking the milk anyway, rewarded afterwards with the ultimate comfort: napping in the sunlight, cheek pressed against Martha's soft bosom.
When I woke up, all the negative thoughts had vanished.
Maybe I wasn't the first superhero here… but I would become the greatest. The real superhero. The one all others would be measured against.
Competition wasn't a setback—it was fuel. If heroes and villains already existed, then I would rise above all of them. And one day, I would prove why the world would call me Superman.
Of course, step one was gathering intel. Not easy to do when you are a baby trapped in an old Kansas farmhouse where the only tech was a battered TV and an even older radio. Still, I learned a lot thanks to my new dad's obsession with watching the evening news.
That's how I discovered the first public metahuman was recorded over three centuries ago.
The anchor had just mentioned it casually, like a bit of trivia. But to me, it confirmed everything—that this wasn't the classic DC continuity. This was some alternate universe, maybe even a mix of different timelines. Heck, it felt eerily similar to that James Gunn Superman movie premise.
Once I realized that my initial suspicion of this being an AU was right, my restless little Kryptonian heart finally calmed down.
This also explained why Martha and Jonathan were so chill about adopting an alien baby. Sure, they were kind people—no doubt about that—but it made even more sense if they just chalked me up as another metahuman kid. I never planned on hiding it from them anyway. I mean, when Martha bathes me twice a day and inspects every inch of my body, there is really no such thing as keeping secrets.
What did worry me, though, was the bigger picture: if metahumans exist, then surely some government, agency, or shady organization must have noticed a freaking alien spaceship crash-landing in Kansas.
But then again, if anyone had noticed, I probably wouldn't be in this cozy farmhouse right now.
Nope—I would be locked up in some cold laboratory, cut open on a table like a frog in biology class.
Advanced Kryptonian tech for the win I guess!
But all of this wasn't the only thing weighing on my mind. There was something else—something much more important.
I knew it was coming. I had been waiting for it. Preparing for it.
The day when all my Kryptonian senses are heightened to Superhuman or I should say Superman's level.
I had a theory. My body was like a solar battery, storing energy from Earth's yellow sun. Once it hit certain thresholds, my body would change, evolving step by step into Superman.
The first upgrades were the "easy ones": sight, smell, and hearing. From my very first day here, they grew sharper and sharper. Every sunrise, the world felt a little louder, brighter, richer.
The second threshold was the body itself—strength, endurance, agility, durability. Proof? I could walk on my first day. By the end of my first week, I was running laps around the farmhouse. I still got tired, sure, but every day my stamina grew.
If it weren't for how much I loved collapsing into Martha's arms—and yes, enjoying her heavenly marshmallow pillows—I might have tested how long I could actually stay awake.
The third threshold was the dangerous one: my eyes.
X-ray vision. Heat vision. The powers that could turn accidents into tragedies.
To prepare, I started meditating, trying to feel the solar energy inside me. Honestly, it felt a lot like those Chinese cultivation novels I used to read back in my old life.
However I wasn't getting any real results yet—sometimes I woke up feeling stronger, but nothing concrete. Maybe I was still too young, and my body wasn't ready to unlock that level yet.
Days soon turned into months.
At ten months old, Martha and Jonathan finally decided to test the waters. They took me on a playdate at a friend's house—their friends apparently had a daughter close to my age.
Before we even got there, I got the longest lecture of my new life.
Don't talk too fluently.
Don't show off.
Be gentle.
Don't crush the girl's toys.
Don't accidentally crush the girl!
My parents looked so nervous—like this wasn't just a playdate, but an experiment. A test of whether I could ever have a normal interaction with other kids.
This lecture kept going until we were in front of their house.
This short drive though gave me a chance to see more of Kansas from the car window. Small-town America, fields stretching forever, old houses, church steeples in the distance. Our Kent farmhouse sat on the outskirts, away from the bustle. But this family's house was deeper in town—bigger, newer, and definitely better off than us. Not that it mattered much to me.
When we pulled up, Martha carried me to the front door, her arms warm and protective as always. We knocked. And I braced myself for my very first "normal" baby social encounter in this strange, superpowered world.
We were greeted by a brown-haired man and a redhead woman—Thomas and Carol. Both good-looking, very standard suburban Kansas couple vibes.
After the pleasantries, during which I made sure to act like a clueless drooling baby, they stuck me in a crib. Across from me was a baby in pink pajamas with a tuft of reddish hair.
Her name was Lana.
Yeah I realised that this baby was thatLana Lang.
"Future childhood friend, first crush, possible early waifu candidate," my brain immediately filed her under. Without hesitation I started poking her chubby cheeks and hugging her. She giggled—like all babies do before they eventually start crying their lungs out.
It was… fine. A tiring day of pretending to be a normal baby while the adults talked boring adult stuff.
Still, I had decided early on: I was going to thoroughly enjoy my childhood until my real powers started manifesting. No point brooding all day when you have got soft beds, warm sunlight, and softer boobs to nap on.
Back home, my parents praised me for being so well-behaved, saying they would take me out more often if I kept it up. Mom even bought me my favorite cereal—Justice Jacks—with retired hero Atom Smasher plastered on the box. What can I say? This Kryptonian baby's got a sweet tooth.
And Lana? Yeah, she was already locked in as the first official member of my future harem. Why not? Canon says she would be my first crush, so it only makes sense. Small-town Kansas probably won't have much else to offer, but I will still look around. Who knows, maybe I will get lucky.
Time dragged in Kansas, or maybe it was just my enhanced perception making every day feel longer.
School started, I made friends, and Lana who had grown quite cuter over the years followed me around like a loyal little sidekick. My first grade teachers called me super smart, I was even taller than all the other kids, and life was… slow, but good.
Until that morning.
I woke up to what sounded like a stadium crowd screaming directly into my ears. It hurt like hell—I clamped my tiny hands over my head, desperate to shut it out.
And then… silence.
I opened my eyes.
And right in front of me were 100% real, in-the-flesh, naked boobies.