While the NYPD was busy tearing through the city's criminal networks—
Inside S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in Washington, D.C., the Triskelion.
Director Nick Fury sat on a large black sofa, staring at the information on the screen in front of him. His expression gave away nothing.
"Damn it... so the kid's done pretending now, is that it?" Fury muttered.
On the monitor, footage of the chaos at the Daily Bugle was looping from multiple angles, each replay showing Clark's entrance in greater detail.
Coulson stood nearby and handed over a freshly compiled report, looking more than a little tense himself. After all, this was someone with power on the Hulk's level, except with a functioning brain.
"Director... according to our supercomputer modeling, Clark Parker's currently demonstrated abilities already exceed every scientific and biological framework known on Earth. Including all registered enhanced individuals. With the exception of the Hulk, there's likely no one capable of facing him head-on."
Coulson clicked the remote, freezing the image on Clark using heat vision against the armed thugs.
"This red beam. Preliminary estimates put the temperature at over nine thousand degrees Fahrenheit. And he absorbed sustained fire from over a thousand rounds without any visible surface damage. That suggests a body density and molecular structure far beyond anything we should even be discussing."
The image switched again, this time to Clark's launch, the moment his takeoff flipped the helicopters into chaos.
"And this is the most disturbing part. Based on the military's last radar lock, his acceleration in the first tenth of a second exceeded Mach 8. This is beyond physical strength. It suggests some kind of direct manipulation of gravity or a bio-electromagnetic field."
A wary light flashed in Fury's single eye.
At the moment, he had no viable response to something like this. Sure, there were always friends and family, but as a top-level operative, Fury understood exactly what that meant. The second you used that move, there was no coming back from it.
And at present, Clark showed no sign of being hostile to society.
"Eighteen years..." Fury muttered.
He stood and looked out toward the distant city.
"Ever since December 31st, 1991, when that ship with the 'S' on it came down outside New York and Ben Parker took the boy away, we've known he was different. He spent more than a decade under surveillance playing the good kid, the harmless nerd. Never even caught a damn cold."
"I thought he was some kind of enhanced super-soldier case, maybe a stronger version of Captain America. Turns out I was catastrophically wrong."
Fury turned back and looked at Coulson.
"He's got Hulk-level power, except he's not the Hulk, and Hulk's an idiot. This one is an alien with a first-rate brain. If he ever wanted to take control of Earth, what exactly do we have that could stop him? High-tech weapons? Please. If that worked, every mobster in New York would've killed their local superhero by now."
"What do we do now, sir?" Coulson asked. "Deploy a rapid-response team to take him and his family into custody? Bring him in for questioning? Though personally, I don't think that would be wise. We might be better off attempting a deeper infiltration."
"You're right, Coulson. We may be able to influence him. Guide him. Keep him from becoming humanity's enemy." Fury paused, then gave the next order. "For now, classify everything related to him at Level Ten. Maximum secrecy. As for a codename... call him 'Superman.' He reminds me of an old comic character I read as a kid. Same first name, same S."
"And pass this order down exactly as I'm giving it. I don't care if they're Level Seven or Level Eight. Absolutely, absolutely, absolutely no one approaches or provokes Clark Parker without my direct authorization."
"Pull every hidden surveillance device we've got around the Parker house in Queens. Based on what we've seen, those bugs are basically taped to the inside of his eyelids. The only reason he hasn't ripped them all out already is because he hasn't felt like bothering with us."
Fury leaned over his desk, palms flat, and for the first time in a while, he actually looked relieved.
"So far, this Superman may have hidden what he is, but he's used that power to protect his family and innocent people. He has a very solid human moral framework, and strong emotional ties. Ben Parker and May Parker are the best restraint we could ask for. And based on everything we've observed, the worst thing he's done is kill three violent felons with long criminal records."
"So as long as we don't cross the line, he's our nuclear deterrent."
Coulson straightened immediately and saluted. "Understood, Director. I'll take care of the files right away, although..."
Fury frowned. Was there another major problem on the board already?
"Besides Superman, we may have another issue brewing."
"What now?"
"Tony Stark. He shut down his weapons division, but now it looks like he's holed up building something. Possibly some kind of armored suit."
Fury rubbed a hand over his bald head and sighed.
"One off-world visitor in New York. One billionaire fresh off a breakdown who shut down his weapons business and is probably about to unleash something else entirely. Coulson, I have a feeling the age of ordinary people is over. This world's about to get very weird."
The brilliant old spymaster continued making brilliant deductions.
At least he still had one final trump card.
Captain Marvel.
He trusted that if things truly went off the rails, she could handle most of what Earth threw at her.
And by the next day, the whole world seemed to accelerate.
One explosive story after another made ordinary people feel more ordinary than ever.
But what did any of that have to do with our very ordinary Clark?
In the halls of Midtown High, students weren't talking about parties anymore. Or football games. Or cheerleaders dating jocks.
Now everyone was talking about the news. Or about conspiracies.
"Hey! Did you guys see that press conference from a couple days ago?! Tony Stark actually came back alive! And then he announced he was shutting down Stark Industries' weapons division! My dad saw the stock crash last night and smashed our TV!"
"Who cares about Stark? Didn't you see yesterday's Daily Bugle front page?! Oh my God, there was a god in Manhattan! A superhuman with an 'S' on his chest! He took down an entire mercenary army by hand! Even the Apaches got blown out of the sky!"
"That had to be some Hollywood viral campaign for a new movie, right? There's no way a guy can stop armor-piercing rounds with his body. And if it's not a movie, then it's definitely a government conspiracy. Probably getting ready to invade some other country!"
"Conspiracy my ass! My cousin works with the NYPD! He was there putting up the tape last night! He said the crater was big enough to swallow a truck! And the sonic boom from that S-guy launching into the air shattered windows across multiple blocks!"
In the center of the cafeteria, Eugene "Flash" Thompson was standing on top of a lunch table, bragging to the crowd of underclassmen and admirers gathered around him about an encounter that had absolutely never happened.