Hello, thar. Meinos Kaen here!
I recently went to see Man of Steel. It was, without a doubt, the worst, stupidest, most idiotic superhero movie I've ever seen and one of the worst movies I've ever seen, period. Three steps away from being total crap.
And yet, for those three steps, I’m making a fanfiction for this movie. Why? Because, among all the crap, other than the great fight scenes -as long as you ignore Superman ignoring people’s safety- there were two actors who managed to give a semblance of good acting and their characters, when interacting, created the most interesting scenes of the movie.
And so, I want to salvage those three steps -and retroactively correct the ‘let’s open a black hole in our atmosphere’ idea- by offering you this story.
Please enjoy Evolution.
The humiliation of defeat.
She had been bred before her first breath and for all her life for the sole reason of being a warrior of Krypton. Powerful, precise, relentless.
Victorious.
And yet, she had tasted defeat. There was a flaw in her, and it wasn’t the fact that there existed superior warriors. That was only inevitable. Evolution dictated the betterment of a race, and there was no stopping evolution.
No, what she had always seen as a flaw in her kryptonian genetics was how much defeat stung. Why make defeat hurt so much, so fiercely? If at all? Her role was to serve her commander and her race. To be a shield, and a blade. Why give her potentially gripping flaws?
In the end, she always passed it off as kryptonian knowledge in genetics not having reached sufficient levels. She was prone to do it again.
If only the most recent of her defeats didn’t burn worse than anything else she had ever experienced in her life. She was more prone to think that it was a form of punishment for failure.
This battle had been different. The destiny of their entire race was at stake. Their opponents were one traitor son of a renegade and the natives of the planet they were to terraform. Inferior beings. Led by General Zod, they were superior in technology, might, resolve.
And yet, she was laying on her back, staring at the blood-red sky of the Phantom Zone.
Again.
She had been conscious through it all. The earthlings had turned the traitor’s spacecraft into a weapon, creating a brief but powerful passage to the Phantom Zone. The rough portal, lacking the controlled finesse of a fully formed one, had attacked their spacecraft mercilessly.
She slowly sat up in the grey sand, her eyes taking in the mangled spectacle of their craft, reduced to little more than twisted and fused scraps of metal. The odds of her companions surviving were slim.
‘Why did I survive?’ She raised a hand to her face, finding the only injury she could feel on her body. A shallow cut on her forehead that had painted the bridge of her nose and her cheeks red.
Faora survived because she had been there in the enemy aircraft, failing to stop him, only leaving it after they had crossed the wormhole.
The earthling warrior.
The one who, in face of death, had not hesitated. He had embraced it. For his mission. For his race.
There. That was why defeat hurt so much. They -Faora and her fellow kryptonians- had lost in resolve.
That had never happened before.
Her gaze trailed to the remnants of the earthling aircraft. It had been rocked by the explosion and the portal, and not possessing the sturdiness of the kryptonian vessel it now laid in pieces all over the lifeless desert of the Phantom Zone.
She stood. One action at a time. She was cut off from her commander. She was the superior officer when the wormhole opened. She still was. She had to verify if there were other survivors.
She started the slow trek across the sands. The couple hundred meters separating her from the wreckage. She surveyed her surroundings, finding the charred and splattered corpses of the earthlings, and the still figure of one of her companions, pierced through the chest by a shard of their craft.
Eventually she reached the main body of the wreckage. The mostly integer Kryptonian aircraft, with the front part of the human one stuck to it at the point of impact.
She distinctly remembered having involuntarily shielded the earthling warrior from the impact blast. She had pulled on him, throwing him out of the way in a last desperate attempt to wrestle control and deviate the ship from its intended path.
Alas, she had failed. She had been thrown backward, violently impacted her head and passed out as the wormhole opened.
Even if she had taken the brunt of the explosion for him, the earthling had nonetheless perished. His limp body, covered in sooth, fresh blood on his face, hung from some kind of tattered harness upside down, slightly undulating from side to side in the weak wind of the Phantom Zone.
Her eyes narrowed but only for a second. Inferior or not, this warrior had defeated her and her companions, honored and protected his race. There was only honor to be given, not animosity. She lowered her head and joined her hands in the usual kryptonian salute to the dead.
She made a mental note of burying him last, though. Her benevolence went only so far.
As she turned to continue exploring the wreckage...
A moan. Her whole posture stiffened. She gaped and snapped back.
He wouldn’t dare.
“Hnn...†The moan turned into a vocal note of discomfort.
He dared!
“Where...†An arm moved, trying to connect with the forehead only to find itself restrained. Rapid blinks revealed unfocused irises.
Her hands became shaking fists.
His head was ringing like a church’s bell. Same frequency, he bet.
His vision was a unfocused mess of red, grey and black. He couldn’t move his left arm, for some reason. And strangely enough, he felt like he was falling upwards.
Oh, wait. He was probably upside down.
As he tried to gain his bearings and understand just where he was and how he had ended up there and upside down to boot -he remembered something about a bomb, a battle... Where was it?- he suddenly felt a sudden pull on the front of his clothes.
“You dare!†A female voice boomed, and he found whatever was restraining him give in as he was roughly manhandled and thrown to the ground, the air knocked out of his lungs.
More to come.
I recently went to see Man of Steel. It was, without a doubt, the worst, stupidest, most idiotic superhero movie I've ever seen and one of the worst movies I've ever seen, period. Three steps away from being total crap.
And yet, for those three steps, I’m making a fanfiction for this movie. Why? Because, among all the crap, other than the great fight scenes -as long as you ignore Superman ignoring people’s safety- there were two actors who managed to give a semblance of good acting and their characters, when interacting, created the most interesting scenes of the movie.
And so, I want to salvage those three steps -and retroactively correct the ‘let’s open a black hole in our atmosphere’ idea- by offering you this story.
Please enjoy Evolution.
The humiliation of defeat.
She had been bred before her first breath and for all her life for the sole reason of being a warrior of Krypton. Powerful, precise, relentless.
Victorious.
And yet, she had tasted defeat. There was a flaw in her, and it wasn’t the fact that there existed superior warriors. That was only inevitable. Evolution dictated the betterment of a race, and there was no stopping evolution.
No, what she had always seen as a flaw in her kryptonian genetics was how much defeat stung. Why make defeat hurt so much, so fiercely? If at all? Her role was to serve her commander and her race. To be a shield, and a blade. Why give her potentially gripping flaws?
In the end, she always passed it off as kryptonian knowledge in genetics not having reached sufficient levels. She was prone to do it again.
If only the most recent of her defeats didn’t burn worse than anything else she had ever experienced in her life. She was more prone to think that it was a form of punishment for failure.
This battle had been different. The destiny of their entire race was at stake. Their opponents were one traitor son of a renegade and the natives of the planet they were to terraform. Inferior beings. Led by General Zod, they were superior in technology, might, resolve.
And yet, she was laying on her back, staring at the blood-red sky of the Phantom Zone.
Again.
She had been conscious through it all. The earthlings had turned the traitor’s spacecraft into a weapon, creating a brief but powerful passage to the Phantom Zone. The rough portal, lacking the controlled finesse of a fully formed one, had attacked their spacecraft mercilessly.
She slowly sat up in the grey sand, her eyes taking in the mangled spectacle of their craft, reduced to little more than twisted and fused scraps of metal. The odds of her companions surviving were slim.
‘Why did I survive?’ She raised a hand to her face, finding the only injury she could feel on her body. A shallow cut on her forehead that had painted the bridge of her nose and her cheeks red.
Faora survived because she had been there in the enemy aircraft, failing to stop him, only leaving it after they had crossed the wormhole.
The earthling warrior.
The one who, in face of death, had not hesitated. He had embraced it. For his mission. For his race.
There. That was why defeat hurt so much. They -Faora and her fellow kryptonians- had lost in resolve.
That had never happened before.
Her gaze trailed to the remnants of the earthling aircraft. It had been rocked by the explosion and the portal, and not possessing the sturdiness of the kryptonian vessel it now laid in pieces all over the lifeless desert of the Phantom Zone.
She stood. One action at a time. She was cut off from her commander. She was the superior officer when the wormhole opened. She still was. She had to verify if there were other survivors.
She started the slow trek across the sands. The couple hundred meters separating her from the wreckage. She surveyed her surroundings, finding the charred and splattered corpses of the earthlings, and the still figure of one of her companions, pierced through the chest by a shard of their craft.
Eventually she reached the main body of the wreckage. The mostly integer Kryptonian aircraft, with the front part of the human one stuck to it at the point of impact.
She distinctly remembered having involuntarily shielded the earthling warrior from the impact blast. She had pulled on him, throwing him out of the way in a last desperate attempt to wrestle control and deviate the ship from its intended path.
Alas, she had failed. She had been thrown backward, violently impacted her head and passed out as the wormhole opened.
Even if she had taken the brunt of the explosion for him, the earthling had nonetheless perished. His limp body, covered in sooth, fresh blood on his face, hung from some kind of tattered harness upside down, slightly undulating from side to side in the weak wind of the Phantom Zone.
Her eyes narrowed but only for a second. Inferior or not, this warrior had defeated her and her companions, honored and protected his race. There was only honor to be given, not animosity. She lowered her head and joined her hands in the usual kryptonian salute to the dead.
She made a mental note of burying him last, though. Her benevolence went only so far.
As she turned to continue exploring the wreckage...
A moan. Her whole posture stiffened. She gaped and snapped back.
He wouldn’t dare.
“Hnn...†The moan turned into a vocal note of discomfort.
He dared!
“Where...†An arm moved, trying to connect with the forehead only to find itself restrained. Rapid blinks revealed unfocused irises.
Her hands became shaking fists.
-I-
His head was ringing like a church’s bell. Same frequency, he bet.
His vision was a unfocused mess of red, grey and black. He couldn’t move his left arm, for some reason. And strangely enough, he felt like he was falling upwards.
Oh, wait. He was probably upside down.
As he tried to gain his bearings and understand just where he was and how he had ended up there and upside down to boot -he remembered something about a bomb, a battle... Where was it?- he suddenly felt a sudden pull on the front of his clothes.
“You dare!†A female voice boomed, and he found whatever was restraining him give in as he was roughly manhandled and thrown to the ground, the air knocked out of his lungs.
More to come.