Even as Lin Feng soared above the glittering skyline of New York City, he couldn't shake the sense of unease that had crept into his thoughts.
"Have you ever encountered a scenario like this?" he muttered to himself, clicking his tongue in disbelief. He'd grown up watching short clips online where foreigners always warned that certain neighborhoods in their cities—especially after dark—were best avoided. He'd never quite believed them. His hometown had its own brand of chaos, after all. But reality, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor.
And tonight, Hell's Kitchen was its punchline.
With a grim look, Lin Feng plunged through the clouds, his body wrapped in black Kryptonian armor. The 'S' symbol blazed across his chest like a promise—and a warning. He had set his suit to the sleek black variant via the system interface. He liked the color. It made a statement.
Three kilometers away, a commotion echoed through the alleys like a cry in the night. Lin Feng cut through the air with astonishing speed, covering the distance in seconds. He hovered just above the scene, eyes narrowing at the unfolding situation below.
A young woman stood alone, cornered in a narrow alley by a group of thugs. Her hands trembled as she held a camera to her chest like a shield. Her eyes darted around, searching for any escape route. Her voice was low and strained.
"Please… let me go," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.
The gang members laughed.
"Little girl, you really messed up," sneered one, his face twisted with a sadistic grin. "You took pictures of things no one's supposed to see. Thought you could just walk into Hell's Kitchen and snap some shots? What are you, stupid?"
"First time I've seen a reporter stroll through here like she's bulletproof," another chimed in. "Too bad for you. Boss says you won't live to see the sunrise."
"Don't worry," said a third with a disgusting chuckle. "We'll make sure you enjoy the ride out. You'll go to heaven… just not the way you think."
They advanced slowly, savoring her fear. The woman, backed against a graffiti-stained wall, raised her camera like a weapon. Her defiance was admirable—but hopeless.
The gang laughed harder.
To them, it was just entertainment. A predator's game.
Then a voice rang out, calm but clear, from above.
"What's so funny this late at night? Mind if I join in?"
The gang froze, eyes snapping upward.
Floating above them in the moonlight was a figure in black. A man suspended in the air, encased in sleek, obsidian-colored armor. The stylized "S" on his chest glowed faintly in the darkness, a symbol not of origin—but of evolution.
Lin Feng.
His cape fluttered with the wind as he descended in a controlled swoop. He landed softly between the woman and the gang, adopting a three-point landing pose straight out of an action film. No cracked pavement this time—just dramatic flair.
Perfect. He was getting better at this.
"Big party tonight?" he said with a smirk. "I'll take an invite."
The gang's smiles vanished. Unease crept into their expressions.
"Back off, freak!" the leader snapped, pulling a pistol from his waistband. "Mutants don't run Hell's Kitchen. You're messing with the wrong turf!"
"I'm not a mutant," Lin Feng said, his voice laced with amusement. He glanced at the weapon and sneered. "That little thing? That's what you brought to intimidate me?"
He took a step forward, leaned his head toward the muzzle, and tapped his forehead.
"Go ahead. Right here. Let's see what that pea shooter can do."
The gang leader didn't hesitate. His finger twitched.
Bang.
The bullet struck Lin Feng square in the forehead—and bounced off harmlessly, clinking against the pavement like a dropped coin.
Silence.
"Nice aim," Lin Feng joked, brushing off an imaginary speck of dust.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three more shots. Same result. No reaction. No injuries.
"Damn it—he's a monster!" one thug shouted, turning on his heel.
But they weren't fast enough.
Lin Feng blurred into motion. In seconds, the entire group was laid out across the alley, unconscious. Not dead—just humbled. He moved with precision, dispatching them like an afterthought.
Pathetic, Lin Feng thought with a sigh. Ordinary people had no chance against Superman-tier power.
The alley fell quiet, the only sound being the faint hum of the city beyond. Lin Feng turned to the woman, who was still frozen in place.
He approached slowly, his expression softening.
"Hey, you okay?"
The woman blinked, then nodded quickly. "Y-Yes… Thank you. You saved my life."
She clutched her chest, breathing shakily, then looked at him again with wide, curious eyes. Her gaze flicked from his face to his armor and back again. She raised her phone instinctively.
Of course. A reporter.
It made sense now—her bravery, her camera, her reckless choice of Hell's Kitchen as a workplace.
Lin Feng raised a brow, amused. "Thinking of turning this into a headline?"
She blinked, then flushed. "Sorry! I just… this kind of thing doesn't happen every day."
"I get it." Lin Feng smiled, stepping back. "Just stay safe. It's not smart for someone like you to walk around Hell's Kitchen at night."
He turned to leave, crouching slightly in preparation to take off.
"Wait! Sir!"
Lin Feng paused mid-motion, glancing back. "Hmm?"
The woman looked nervous, fidgeting with her fingers. "Would it… would it be too much to ask if I stayed with you? Just for one night?"
Lin Feng tilted his head, confused. "Huh?"
Realizing how that sounded, the woman's face turned crimson. "No! Not like that! I just—I can't go home. I have photos of illegal weapons trades… If they know where I live, I'm done for!"
She clutched her camera tightly. "Please… I don't know where else to go."
Lin Feng sighed. Trouble always came in beautiful packages.
Still, he couldn't leave her to fend for herself. Not after what he'd just seen.
"…Fine," he said, rubbing his temple. "You can stay one night."
"Thank you!"
Before she could say more, Lin Feng wrapped an arm around her waist and launched skyward.
The woman screamed briefly at the sudden ascent, then buried her face in his shoulder. For a moment, Lin Feng allowed himself a chuckle. Flying was faster than a taxi—and this way, he didn't have to explain to anyone why he was carrying a journalist through midtown Manhattan.
---
Back at his villa, Lin Feng handed her a steaming cup of hot cocoa.
"I heard from a werewolf professor once that chocolate calms the nerves," he said, settling into a chair across from her.
"…A werewolf professor?" she echoed, bewildered.
"Long story."
He took a sip of his own cocoa. "I'm Lin Feng. And you?"
She smiled shyly. "Susan. Susan Carter. I'm a reporter for CBB."
Susan. Lin Feng froze for a second.
"Wait. Not—Susan Storm?"
"What? No," she laughed. "But I've heard that before. I don't have an older brother, but I do have a little sister—five years old."
Lin Feng chuckled. "Got it. You just look… familiar. That's all."
Now that the lighting in the villa was brighter, Lin Feng took a better look. She was striking—long blonde hair, sharp but gentle eyes, and a courageous spark that belied her youthful face. She looked like someone pulled from a comic book—but even more real.
Susan noticed him staring.
"What? Do I have something on my face?"
"Just surprised. You're the first reporter I've seen who charges into Hell's Kitchen solo."
Susan rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me."
She set the cup down and, after a moment, began to recount everything.
Stark Industries' sudden ban on weapons sales had destabilized the black market. Susan, a new journalist desperate to prove herself, had traced a series of backdoor deals to a Gray Street syndicate. Her investigation led to a warehouse full of illegal arms—missiles, to be exact—with "Stark" stamped on them in bold letters.
She snapped photos. Too many.
And then she ran for her life.
Gray Street put a $20,000 bounty on her head.
"Three days," she whispered. "I ran nonstop for three days. Thought I could outsmart them. But I slipped up. Got tired. Lost focus."
She lowered her gaze. "I almost died tonight."
Her voice cracked. Lin Feng said nothing for a moment, letting her talk.
"Thank you, Lin. I owe you my life."
Her eyes watered, and two quiet tears rolled down her cheeks.
Lin Feng sighed, then offered her a gentle smile.
"You've got guts, Susan. I'll give you that."
She looked at him through tear-streaked lashes.
"You think so?"
"I'd call you a hero. Just maybe not one with flight and heat vision."
That earned a soft laugh. The tension in the room slowly eased. Outside, the city kept moving, unaware that a young woman's life had been spared, and a storm of secrets about Stark Industries was about to break.
And inside that villa, two unlikely allies had crossed paths—one armored by evolution, the other by relentless determination.
Neither knew it yet, but this night was only the beginning.