"Welcome back to Capital Tonight, where we're diving deep into the aftermath of the Viltrumite invasion that left Gotham in ruins and millions displaced across the nation. Over half the city gone in a single day of destruction, and now relief camps stretch from the outskirts of Blüdhaven to the edges of Metropolis. Joining us tonight are Dr. Elena Vasquez, urban policy expert from Gotham University; Marcus Hale, CEO of Hale Developments; Reginald Thorpe, senior advisor from the Department of the Treasury; and Lena Korvath, community organizer with the Gotham Relocation Coalition. Dr. Vasquez, let's start with you—private firms like LexCorp are lining up to snap up those bombed-out blocks, promising to rebuild with affordable condos and mixed-use towers. What's the real deal here?"
Dr. Vasquez adjusted her glasses with one hand while she gripped her tablet with the other. "This is displacement on a scale we haven't seen since the Great Depression, and it hits the same people hardest, the working-class families, the renters, the service workers who kept Gotham running for decades before the Viltrumites turned it to ash. LexCorp submitted bids last week for over 200 acres in the Narrows, and their plans show units starting at $3,500 a month, with retail spaces leased to chains that pay minimum wage. These aren't homes; they're investments, and the displaced Gothamites in those camps won't qualify for the income brackets those buildings target."
Marcus Hale, seated to her left in a tailored blue blazer with gold cufflinks that caught the light each time he gestured, crossed his arms over his chest and then uncrossed them to point at the screen behind the host, where a graphic showed rising land values in red bars spiking upward. "Dr. Vasquez paints a grim picture, but let's talk facts, those bids from LexCorp and firms like mine aren't charity; they're engines for recovery. We've got architects drawing up plans for 5,000 affordable units in the first phase, subsidized through tax credits, and we'll create 15,000 construction jobs starting next spring.
Gotham's economy flatlined after the attack; unemployment's at 58 percent in the camps alone. Private capital jumps in where government red tape stalls out, and we build faster, better, with smart tech integration that pulls in tourism dollars. Without us, those lots sit as craters, and the camps turn permanent."
Reginald Thorpe nodded slowly as Hale finished, then picked up his pen and underlined a figure on his top sheet while he cleared his throat into his fist. "Mr. Hale hits the nail on the head, and from the Treasury's vantage, this isn't just about Gotham it's about the fiscal backbone of the entire country. The invasion didn't stop at city limits; Viltrumites have damaged many other small towns and cities across the country, and federal outlays for emergency housing already top $47 billion this quarter.
If the U.S. taxpayer shoulders full reconstruction we're looking at a deficit balloon that pops the next budget cycle. Private partnerships like LexCorp's bring leverage; they invest upfront, we provide incentives, and the long-term yield is a revitalized tax base that funds schools, roads, defense. America thrives when enterprise leads the charge, not when socialist yahoo's bury us in debt."
Lena Korvath, in the middle seat with her dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and a simple green blouse rolled up at the sleeves, slapped her palm flat on the desk as Thorpe wrapped up "Thrive? For who, Mr. Thorpe, America's elite donors who bankroll those incentives, or the citizens rotting in those camps right now? These are people, U.S. citizens with Social Security numbers and voting rights, not line items on your balance sheet. Over half of Gotham's pre-invasion population earned under $40,000 a year, and your 'long-term yield' means they watch from afar as their homes get bulldozed for marble lobbies and high rise buildings.
Where do they go? Blüdhaven's camps overflowed last month; families sleep on cots in school gyms converted to dorms, we have kids missing school and people getting sick. Gentrification isn't recovery it's erasure of the working class from this city, and LexCorp's fine print shows 70 percent above market-rate units. You talk budget burdens, but the real burden's on the backs of those who lost everything."
Thorpe exhaled through his nose, a short puff that made his papers flutter, and he gathered them into a neat stack with both hands, aligning the edges precisely before he set them aside and folded his arms across his chest. "Ms. Korvath, we get the human angle nobody here disputes the tragedy and the Treasury's allocated $12 billion in direct aid already, covering camp operations, medical tents, job training vouchers that placed 47,000 Gothamites in temp work last week.
But aid's a bridge, not a destination; private rebuilds accelerate that transition. Families get relocation stipends of up to $18,000 per household for the first six months plus priority leasing when units come online, with rents tiered to income for the initial wave. They won't be priced out; we'll enforce caps through federal oversight, and the overflow goes to adjacent zones with modular housing expansions. This shoulders the load together and in five years, Gotham's GDP rebounds 22 percent, per our models, funding the very services you champion without hiking taxes on the middle and upper classes."
Korvath threw her head back and let out a bark of laughter that crackled through the speakers, her hand flying up to cover her mouth for a split second before she dropped it to point accusingly at Thorpe. "Priority leasing? Rents tiered to income? Mr. Thorpe, that's a punchline from a boardroom fantasy. I talked to a single mom in Camp Echo yesterday, someone who I might add has three kids, was a nurse's aide pre-invasion, who is now now pulling double shifts at a warehouse for $14 an hour and your 'stipend' barely covers the camp's $200 monthly family fee, let alone moving costs. LexCorp's 'caps' in Star City last year?
They started at 30 percent affordable, ended up 12 after 'market adjustments,' and those units went to tech transplants from Silicon Valley. No one but upper-middle-class commuters, doctors, lawyers, will touch those prices, and you know it. This is the U.S. government laundering gentrification through corporate proxies, sweeping the poor under some rug while you pat yourselves on the back for 'fiscal responsibility.' Gotham's Black and Latino districts took 68 percent of the destruction, coincidence that your models prioritize 'high-value' rebuilds there first?"
Hale interjected from his side, leaning across Vasquez who had been nodding along silently, and he placed his hand flat on the desk midway between them to draw the eye. "Accusations like that ignore the ground game, Ms. Korvath my crews cleared 150 tons of rubble from the Bowery last Tuesday, handed out 500 toolkits to locals for on-site training, and we're partnering with unions to ensure 40 percent of hires come from the camps. Gentrification's a buzzword; what we're doing is infusion, blending income levels in vertical mixed-use so services stay viable, groceries open on street level, clinics in the basements. Your coalition blocked a similar project a few years ago, remember? Delays cost $90 million in holding fees, and families waited longer for roofs."
Vasquez cut in smoothly. "Infusion sounds noble, Marcus, but the math doesn't infuse; it stratifies. That pie chart from the city's own assessors shows 62 percent of new units above $2,800 monthly, and your 'blending' relies on vouchers that expire after two years, dumping families back into scarcity. We've seen this playbook in New Orleans post-Katrina, Detroit after the recession, private influxes spike values 300 percent in five years, and original residents commute two hours or leave state. The camps aren't temporary; they're funnels, herding the vulnerable out while D.C. tallies their savings."
Thorpe leaned forward now. "Vouchers expire to encourage self-sufficiency, Dr. Vasquez not to punish and our extensions cover 85 percent of renewals for verified hardship cases, with data from the pilot in Central City showing 91 percent retention rates. Accuse us of erasure if it fits the narrative, but Treasury simulations project 1.2 million jobs from these partnerships in the next decade alone, pulling camp populations into payrolls that sustain real housing markets. Without private scale, federal bonds flood the market, interest rates climb two points, and every American from Gotham to Kansas pays the premium in higher mortgages. We're not sweeping; we're streamlining for equity that lasts."
Korvath slammed her fist down again, harder this time so her glass tipped and spilled a thin stream of water across her notes. "Equity that lasts? For the contractors pocketing $2 billion in no-bid contracts while camp kids wait six months for dental checkups? Your 'streamlining' evicted 14,000 from temp sites in Blüdhaven last month to make way for 'pilot' towers, and now those families double up in relatives' basements or hit the streets. Citizens don't get 'streamlined' into oblivion; they vote, they protest, they demand seats at the table you're already seating Lex Luthor at. This isn't recovery it's a purge, dressed in spreadsheets, and history will tally the body count you call 'self-sufficiency.'"
Hale jumped back in. "Purge is inflammatory rhetoric that stalls progress my firm's donated $5 million to camp infrastructure already, water systems, solar arrays, and we're training welders from your coalition ranks for the builds. Equity means opportunity, not handouts, and blocking us strands everyone in stasis."
Vasquez interjected once more. "Opportunity for whom? That map marks pre-invasion poverty pockets which is now prime real estate and your donations buy PR, not permanence. Families need deeds and homes, not training seminars that funnel them into low-wage jobs propping up the towers they can't even enter, you're forcing them to rebuild their homes just so they can watch someone else live there!!!"
Thorpe glared at her. "Permanence comes from growth, not grievance, federal audits ensure 25 percent set-asides for legacy residents, with clawbacks on non-compliance, and Gotham's rebound metrics already show 18 percent uptick in inbound investment since bids opened. We're building for all, or we'd forfeit the incentives outright."
The host, who had been jotting notes furiously on his pad with his pen scratching across the pages, set it down abruptly and raised both hands palms out, his chair pivoting as he swiveled to face the camera first, then the panel. "We have to stop it there, folks. Strong words all around, and this debate underscores the stakes in Gotham's fragile hour. That's all the time we have for tonight. Tune in tomorrow for more on national recovery efforts. Good night."
The red camera light winked off, and the panelists slumped back in unison, Korvath exhaling sharply through pursed lips as she smoothed her blouse, Hale loosening his collar with two fingers, Vasquez closing her tablet with a snap, Thorpe sliding his reports into a leather briefcase at his feet.
...
Up on the Watchtower, orbiting silent 22,000 miles above the Pacific's curve, Superman stood before the main viewscreen in the monitor room with his arms folded across his chest as he watched the debate, by his side was his friends Mr Terrific and Wonder Woman. He watched the screen until the feed cut to commercials, then reached out with his right hand to grip the remote control on the console ledge, his fingers curling around the plastic firmly as he thumbed the channel up button three times in quick succession.
Superman's jaw tightened, the muscles along his neck flexing as he lowered the remote to the console with a soft clunk, and he unfolded his arms to rub his hand across his chin, his thumb pressing into the cleft as he stared at the screen where numbers scrolled in white text: 23.7 million displaced worldwide, 47 cities with over 50 percent structural loss, aid pipelines strained to 112 percent capacity. He turned halfway toward his companions and planted his left hand on his hip while his right gestured loosely at the display.
"It's getting worse. I thought it would get better, but it's getting so much worse. The Viltrumites didn't just hit Gotham; they carved through cities across Africa, Asia, Europe, even Australia. Tens of millions without roofs now, and every channel spins the same tale and has the same debates... there are people suffering here, they are homeless and yet it's still all about money..." he said with a displeased look on his face.
He kept staring at the numbers as they crawled across the screen, each one landing like a stone in his stomach. The glossy banners about "economic revitalization" and "enterprise-driven recovery" played on loop across the networks below, drowning out the raw truth he could hear with his own ears every hour—children crying in overcrowded camps, families huddled under emergency tents in winter night air.
"We're talking about people," he said quietly. "People who lost everything. And the world's arguing about zoning laws and investment portfolios while families are lining up for blankets." He shook his head. "How does this happen? How do we always end up here?"
Mr. Terrific stood beside him, arms folded behind his back as he watched the charts update."This is how humans are, Clark. We adapt. We survive. But we also exploit. Some of us see an opportunity in every crisis." He turned slightly, meeting Superman's eyes. "People take advantage of each other's suffering. It's not new. Not unique to Gotham. Not even unique to humans, but I'd say we do it very well."
Superman's jaw tightened. "But that's not everyone, Michael. You know it isn't. Most people... most of them are out there trying to help. Volunteers, nurses, firefighters, regular folks opening their homes, giving what little they have left." He pointed at the updated figures. "Look at this. Gotham alone has half a million people volunteering in the camps. These people aren't selfish. They're scared. They're hurting. But they're good people... I truly believe that."
Wonder Woman nodded in agreement. "He's right. The world has its share of cowards and opportunists, but it also has countless brave souls. those who fight quietly, without reward. You know this. Otherwise you would've not become a hero." She looked towards Mr Terrific.
Superman let out a long breath, one hand bracing on the console's edge. "Why do the worst voices always seem to be the ones in charge? Why is it always the people with the least compassion making the biggest decisions?"
Mr. Terrific sighed as he picked up a datapad. "Because power doesn't require virtue. And bureaucracy... it rarely rewards empathy." He gestured to the screens. "This is politics. Money. Image. Control. It's ugly. But it's how this world works."
Clark's expression hardened. "It shouldn't be."
"No," Terrific agreed. "It shouldn't." He checked the time. "But right now? The best we can do is keep helping with relief. Search and rescue, infrastructure support, medical shipments. That's where we make the difference that actually matters."
Superman didn't respond right away. His eyes went back to the screens... to the images of crowded camps, long lines for food distribution, tents sagging under the weight of winter frost. A girl no older than six sitting in a cot, clutching a stuffed penguin with a missing eye.
He swallowed hard.
"Is it enough?" he whispered.
Wonder Woman stepped closer and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You have done more than anyone could ever ask of you. You saved thousands since that day." Her fingers tightened slightly. "You carry too much. Let yourself breathe."
He didn't answer. He kept staring at the children on the screen.
Mr. Terrific gathered his equipment and headed for the door. "We'll keep at it, Clark. One crisis at a time. That's all we can do." He paused at the threshold.
The door slid shut behind him.
He lowered his head. "I just... I don't know if it's enough anymore."
The truth was simple.
He wasn't sure if saving people one by one could keep up with the damage being carved across the planet. And for the first time in a long while, Clark Kent wondered whether he could still believe the world would choose the right path.
...
Clark stepped out of the Watchtower's airlock and drifted forward until the artificial gravity let him go. In a breath he was weightless, floating above the curvature of the Earth as the metal door sealed behind him. He didn't rush off. He didn't streak across space. He just hovered there in silence drifting in geostationary orbit around the planet.
Below him the world spun in a slowly and almost peacefully. From up here Earth always looked peaceful, it always looked beautiful. But Clark knew better. He could hear the cries if he let himself. He could hear the arguments. The fear. The children coughing in cold tents. He shut the sound out before it overwhelmed him, and a part of him hated that he even had to.
He folded his arms and stared down.
Ever since he first put on the suit he'd only ever had one goal: help people. All people. A billionaire trapped in a burning high-rise or a janitor stuck behind a collapsed beam. A politician's child or a homeless teen cornered in an alley. It never mattered. A life was a life. He'd save every one he could.
But now... looking down from orbit... he felt something he wasn't used to feeling.
Helpless.
Not because he wasn't strong enough. Not because there weren't people who needed him. But because the villains weren't monsters today. They weren't aliens or warlords or mad scientists building death machines.
The villains hurting the world were the people themselves.
Boardrooms. Committees. Legislatures. Executives with perfect collars and no empathy. People who saw loss as opportunity and suffering as leverage.
He hated that more than any villain he'd ever fought.
'What do I do...?' he thought. After his talk with his father he had been resolute in bringing hope back to the world in showing people a better way, one beyond profit margins and political power. One where his best friend wouldn't be so broken that he now resorts to killing criminals. He knew there was a better way, but how could he show them.
He wasn't above the law. He couldn't be. The moment Superman made laws, the moment he decided humanity needed him to lead it... that was the moment he stopped helping the world and started ruling it. He wasn't built for that. He wasn't raised for that. Jonathan Kent hadn't taught him how to rule. Martha Kent didn't raise a king. He was a farm boy who just happened to have the power to fly.
But the world below him tempted him in a way nothing else ever had.
He could fix it.
The thought slipped in like a whisper behind his ear.
He could force the governments to rebuild properly. He could make sure every displaced family had a roof tonight. He could shut down the profiteers and the manipulators. He could take every tool of greed and change jt for the better.
A new world. One with no suffering. One that couldn't be twisted by greed or destroyed by selfishness.
He could do it.
He could.
His jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists in the empty air.
He let himself imagine it for a heartbeat.
Then he blinked, and the absurdity of the whole fantasy crashed into him like cold water.
He let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, right," he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I really need to stop eating dairy this late at night..."
He exhaled hard and the tension left his shoulders.
He wasn't going to take over the world. He wasn't going to crown himself king. That was the lazy way out. The violent way. The authoritarian way. And it would destroy everything he'd ever believed in. Everything his parents taught him. Everything Lois reminded him of every day.
There was a better way.
There was always a better way. He just had to find it. Not as a ruler. As a citizen of earth. As someone who cared. Someone who still believed the world could choose to be better if they were guided toward that choice instead of dragged there in chains.
He took one more look at Earth.
Then he leaned forward and let gravity take him.
And he angled himself toward the East Coast.
Toward Washington, D.C.
(AN: These chapters will mostly focus on Superman and his efforts to save the world, and stop it from spiralling down the dark road it's been going down for years.)
Support for more and other stories.
Patreon.com/captainalfie78works