The bullets hit Drex Valen and ricocheted harmlessly away.
One of the return rounds spun back and punched straight through a robber's skull.
"Thunk."
Drex drove his fist into another gunman.
The impact was so absolute that the man died before he even finished reacting. His internal organs were crushed in an instant, his spine shattered into useless fragments, and his body stopped obeying him before he hit the ground.
For a first public appearance as the Dark Knight, Drex decided he ought to avoid anything too gruesome.
He had already studied enough footage from the underground KOF tournament to know how to kill fast and clean.
A blur of motion carried him behind two of the gunmen.
He lifted two fingers and tapped the back of their heads near the cerebellum.
Both men immediately collapsed, convulsing like puppets with their strings cut, their bodies trembling hard enough to look almost pathetic before they hit the pavement.
The surrounding civilians, who had been panicking a moment ago, began to calm down.
The police found their courage too, pushing out from cover to return fire.
By then, Drex had already cleared the rest of the robbers with ruthless efficiency.
"Excuse me, who are you?"
The officers were unsure how to approach someone like this. They had never really dealt with a vigilante or a superhero before, and the armor itself looked far too advanced to be a normal War Machine.
"I'm Drex Valen," Drex said. "This is my War Machine, the Dark Knight. Good work, officers."
He revealed his identity, then opened the faceplate of the helmet.
The handsome face beneath it was instantly recognizable across the United States.
By now, Drex Valen was already considered one of the most attractive men in America.
A moment later, he took off into the sky.
The reporters from the Daily News and the Daily Bugle stared after him with open frustration, wishing they had been faster, wishing they had gotten the shot, wishing they had been the ones to capture the story instead of watching it vanish overhead.
Drex had staged the whole thing on purpose.
A public image mattered.
Urd had already followed his instructions and established a newspaper for him. Drex had given it the deliberately grandiose name Planet Daily, complete with the massive orbital logo, a stylized iron sphere framed like a planet.
If he managed his reputation properly, he would be standing on solid ground no matter what happened next.
Just as importantly, he wanted his enemies to believe his strength came entirely from the Dark Knight armor, from a machine powerful enough to fly and cut through anything.
That was useful too.
But the real goal was bigger than image control.
Drex wanted to start an era.
The age of superheroes.
As the owner's paper, Planet Daily naturally received the first high-resolution photos of the Dark Knight. The Black Queen had captured every angle perfectly, in a way no ordinary photographer ever could.
Beneath the sleek, close-fitting armor, Drex's powerful frame was visible in every contour.
Broad shoulders.
Dense muscle.
Explosive definition.
The suit looked less like a machine and more like a sculpture of force.
He made Michelangelo's David look underdressed.
Most women in America were instantly swept up by the image.
In an absurdly short time, Drex Valen became the man every teenage girl, glamorous older woman, and married housewife in the country secretly wanted to spend a night with.
That had basically already been true before.
But this was the first time the public had seen him like this, armored, statuesque, and carrying the kind of cold, high-status beauty that made him look like he had stepped out of a different league entirely.
With his slicked-back blue-black hair and his faintly aloof expression, calling him the nation's ideal man was almost an understatement.
The headlines spread like wildfire.
The Dark Knight, the greatest genius in human history, Drex Valen!
He put on armor and became a superhero!
Genius and hero: is Drex Valen also exposing the failures of America's security system?
The world needed a hero, and he stepped forward!
A complete analysis of the differences between the Dark Knight and other War Machines!
NYPD says New York is fine, America is fine, and we do not need a genius acting like a hero!
Planet Daily ran praise after praise, while the other outlets scrambled to keep up.
Some followed the same angle.
Others tried to criticize him for personal heroism, as though that were a bad thing in a country that practically worshipped the concept when it looked good enough on a movie poster.
But they had a problem.
They had no photos of the Dark Knight.
No visual hook.
No angle strong enough to compete.
Their sales were crushed.
Planet Daily dominated the market because the story had hit directly into the sweet spot of American fantasy.
Become the hero.
Save the world.
Fight evil.
Restore justice.
America needed heroes.
Nick Fury and the other power players in the country were all getting headaches.
Why couldn't Drex just stay a scientist?
Why come out swinging as a superhero?
The Dark Knight armor was powerful, yes.
That was exactly the problem.
It was dangerous.
Drex Valen was still a young man who clearly liked the spotlight, and at this point he was proving to be more reckless than Tony Stark ever was.
At least Stark did not run around in a suit of steel trying to save the world.
That was supposed to be the police's job.
The military's job.
A move like this undermined the authority of both.
Nick Fury had no choice but to contact Natasha Romanoff.
"How is your assignment going?"
Natasha had been buried under work when the message came through.
For a second she almost forgot that her actual mission was to get close to Drex Valen and gather intelligence, not to function as his perfect executive assistant.
The problem was that Drex's mind worked like a storm.
He kept changing direction.
Everyone assumed he would focus on cancer research next.
Instead, he suddenly bought up private hospitals.
That alone had been exhausting.
Natasha and Urd had run back and forth handling paperwork and logistics until they were nearly dead on their feet.
Then Drex decided he wanted to launch a news company.
Fine.
They managed that too.
Only for him to immediately pivot again and order them to recruit IT talent because he wanted to build a platform like YouTube or Twitter.
At this point, Natasha's entire life had become paperwork, phone calls, and constant movement with no time to breathe.
"It's bad," she said with a tired exhale. "He has absolutely no interest in me. Honestly, I'm probably less important to him than a machine part."
Fury frowned.
That did not make sense.
Natasha Romanoff usually had men wrapped around her finger.
If Drex was not interested in women and cared more about research, then what was Urd supposed to be?
The woman at his side was beautiful, sharply dressed, and very much not subtle.
"He might just not like my type," Natasha added. "You should probably send someone like Urd instead. A female agent with that kind of presence might work better."
She sounded exhausted more than offended.
Blade Tech Industries paid her better than any government job ever had.
Drex Valen also handed out raises whenever he felt like it, and if someone performed well, he increased their salary immediately.
He was, by all practical standards, one of the most generous employers alive.
Still, the workload was brutal.
Natasha Romanoff was starting to feel it in her bones.