Awakening Kryptonian Bloodline In Marvel.

Chapter 27: Chapter 27: Stealing my thunder.



"Refuse for now. Tell him I'm busy," Malrick said coldly. "If he wants revenge, he can head west and find what's left of the Ten Rings in the other regions."

Without hesitation, Malrick flew toward the nearest U.S. military garrison.

There were seven bases like it in and around Afghanistan, with plans to expand to nineteen over the coming years.

So many heavily fortified installations around such a small, underdeveloped country—anyone could see the real motives weren't peacekeeping. The Eagle's ambitions were written in steel and concrete.

Originally, Malrick had only planned to dismantle the Ten Rings. He'd intended to leave everything else for later.

But that little girl he'd saved earlier—the one in the red scarf—kept flashing through his mind.

He was already here. It was the middle of the night. Why not do something... meaningful?

This world's America—its "Eagle"—wasn't quite the same as the one from his previous life.

But that didn't mean Malrick wouldn't enjoy blunting its talons.

As he descended over the base, the air-raid sirens blared. Alarms screamed through the barracks.

Unlike the terrorists, these soldiers were trained, alert, and efficient.

Before Malrick even raised a hand, the turrets and machine guns were tracking him with mechanical precision.

Over loudspeakers came a sharp, authoritative voice:

"Intruder, land immediately! Remain where you are! Any further movement will be considered hostile!"

The arrogance. The discipline. The firepower.

Malrick only smiled.

Peaceful negotiations? Not today.

You don't reason with wolves until you've taken their fangs.

He hovered above them, calmly inhaled—and exhaled.

A shrieking wind erupted from his lungs.

The temperature plummeted in seconds. A howling blizzard swept across the base, and everything it touched began to freeze.

Frost surged over walls and machinery like living vines. Ammunition stores crackled, sealed beneath sheets of ice. Weapons jammed. Vehicles groaned. Even the soldiers—despite their gear—began to stiffen.

Within moments, the entire installation looked like a crystal fortress pulled from a myth. Frozen in time.

Malrick lowered himself to the ground, surveying the glittering carnage. He raised his fist—and struck the nearest wall with what seemed like a casual punch.

"Crack—crack—crack!"

Hairline fractures spiderwebbed out from the impact, racing like lightning across the surface.

Then the wall gave way.

What followed was a chain reaction. The base had been flash-frozen to the point of brittleness. The shockwaves tore through it like a symphony of destruction.

One by one, buildings collapsed. Frost-covered steel and reinforced concrete shattered into glittering debris.

It wasn't a roar—it was a song.

The sound of millions of crystals breaking and crashing, like glass chiming in a whirlwind.

By the time the last structure fell, nothing remained but jagged ruins bathed in moonlight.

Malrick stepped across the frozen wreckage. Ice cracked beneath his boots.

Lying sprawled across the wreckage were hundreds of frozen soldiers—alive, but immobilized. Some groaned faintly, eyes wide in terror. Their lives had been spared—but only barely.

His control had been surgical.

Not a single soldier was dead. The damage to their bodies? Minimal. Uncomfortable. A warning.

That was the point.

"Asking for trouble," Malrick muttered.

His eyes glowed red.

Twin beams of searing heat lanced from them, sweeping over the ice and delicately thawing the trapped men.

Heat vision strong enough to vaporize steel—restrained to gently melt frost.

Perfect precision.

"H-Holy hell! It's freezing—!"

"He's—he's Superman! There's a damn Superman here?!"

"We provoked Superman!?"

The moment the men were thawed, most collapsed, shaking violently, hugging themselves—or whoever was closest—for warmth. Fear filled their eyes.

Even high-ranking officers stayed silent.

No barking orders. No false bravado.

Just awe... and dread.

Malrick stood over them like judgment made flesh. Cold, implacable, absolute.

"This is your warning," he said. "You have one week to withdraw from Asia. Next time, I won't be so polite."

The moonlight gleamed off the ice beneath his feet.

To the soldiers, he wasn't a man. He was a blade. Hovering, ready to fall.

None dared respond. None even breathed too loudly.

Malrick turned and launched into the sky, leaving only silence behind.

He didn't expect a real answer—not from these grunts or mid-level officers. They didn't make decisions.

But someone was listening.

And if not yet... they would be soon.

"Next target: 26 kilometers east. Let's finish it in under a minute."

Malrick accelerated, becoming a blur against the stars.

That first base had taken longer than planned—not because it was difficult, but because he'd been making a statement.

From arrival to exit: under three minutes.

His goal was clear—hit every base before the satellites above could coordinate a response.

And there were a lot of satellites now.

In the past hour, a half-dozen new ones had repositioned themselves overhead.

First came two from the U.S.—high-resolution military assets.

Then others joined in.

China. Russia. France. The U.K. Even private sector constellations.

The sky was starting to look like a surveillance summit.

Malrick didn't mind.

He welcomed the show.

Let them watch. Let every nation see exactly how he dealt with tyranny.

---

Meanwhile, in the sky above the Mediterranean...

Tony Stark was still en route—armor blazing, HUD filled with alerts.

"Jarvis," Tony snapped. "Explain to me why Malrick's ignoring my calls and assaulting military bases like he's on a vengeance tour?"

"Sir," Jarvis replied, "I believe he felt the situation demanded urgent action."

"Urgent action? That's my job. Blowing up corrupt bases is my thing!"

"Are you saying you planned to strike the same targets, sir?"

"Not a strike, Jarvis. I was going to help them... manage their surplus ammunition."

"Ah. You intended to do what Master Malrick is currently doing—disarm the Eagles and force them out of the region."

Tony clicked his tongue. "So he's stealing my thunder again, huh?"

"To be fair, sir, your thunder is quite... loud."

"I was going to confront them about selling Jericho missiles to terrorists. What's his reason?"

---

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