My Adventures in DC Chapter 1 Confusion

Zack groaned as he pushed himself upright, the stench of rotting garbage clinging stubbornly to his skin and clothes. His body ached like he had just gone ten rounds with someone—or maybe ten people. He sat there for a moment, blinking against the dim morning light filtering between tall buildings. His head throbbed, his mind blank as he couldn’t remember why he was here or who he was.

With effort, he clambered out of the dumpster, boots crunching against broken glass and crumpled cans. The alley stretched on, narrow and damp, walls scarred by graffiti that screamed both rebellion and despair. A stray cat darted past his feet, disappearing into a torn cardboard box. Somewhere above, a neon sign buzzed weakly, flickering between life and death.

The man staggered to one of the cracked windows of a boarded-up shop. His reflection stared back at him and it did not feel familiar. Brown hair, tangled and unkempt. Green eyes that seemed too sharp for a man who couldn’t even remember his own name. Skin tanned from… what? Working outdoors? His clothes were nothing but rags, threadbare jeans and a shirt with holes in it, stained with grime. A stranger’s face. His face.

“Who… the hell am I?” The words rasped out, hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in weeks. His own voice startled him.

He turned away from the glass, forcing himself to look beyond the alley. The city loomed around him, alive and suffocating. Skyscrapers with mirrored windows towered in the distance, reflecting dull light onto the cracked asphalt below. 

The man soon stepped out of the alley and into the street, his bare feet feeling every crack in the pavement through the soles of his ruined shoes. He tried to blend in, but every movement felt wrong—like his body was a costume he hadn’t learned to wear. His mind reached, clawed, searched for fragments of something—anything—but all he found was a wall of static.

Until a name suddenly appeared in his head. Zack.

‘That’s right my name is Zack.’ He then shook his head and continued walking.

The city itself seemed to whisper promises. Answers could be hiding in its shadows, its alleys, or the strangers who filled its veins. He just had to survive long enough to find them.

And so, Zack walked. No destination. No memory. Just the faint, gnawing hope that somewhere ahead, in the endless sprawl of the city, the truth of who he was would reveal itself.

Zack’s steps slowed as he emerged from the shadow of the alley and into the rest of civilization. The street was alive. A sea of men and women in suits and uniforms moved like a tide, each face locked on its own destination. Their polished shoes clicked against the pavement, their briefcases swung with purpose, and not a single one of them cared that he was there.

“Excuse me—hey, wait—” Zack tried, raising his voice to catch the attention of a passing woman in a gray coat. She didn’t even turn her head. A man brushed past him, muttering something under his breath about “trash on the street.” Another gave him a disgusted glance and adjusted his tie as though Zack’s very presence had dirtied the air.

Zack’s chest tightened. ‘Why are they being so rude? Is it my clothes? Do I smell? Am I just not worth their time?’ The thought stung more than he wanted to admit. 

He tried again with another man, but the stranger’s eyes flicked over his ragged clothes, and that was enough. With a huff, the man quickened his pace, leaving Zack’s words to dissolve into the crowd’s noise.

After several more failed attempts, Zack stopped. His shoulders sagged. A sigh slipped from his lips, heavy with defeat. “Fine,” he muttered, voice low. “I’ll figure it out myself…”

So he walked, weaving through the river of people, his green eyes scanning every sign, every storefront, every detail that might tell him where the hell he had ended up. The buildings were a strange mix of gleaming glass towers or houses built by brick, old and new welded together. His gaze rose and settled on a massive structure ahead—an ornate building of white stone, columns carved with intricate designs. A large sign gleamed above its towering doors.

A bank, Zack realized. 

The kind you only saw in movies. Rich, untouchable, proud. He slowed his pace, eyeing the people flowing in and out—businessmen, security guards, clerks. He thought of asking again, maybe someone here would answer him. But the moment he stepped closer, he felt their stares. Eyes like needles pricking his skin. Whispers. Contempt.

“Damn it…” He growled under his breath, turning away. His fists clenched, jaw tight. He was ready to keep moving, to escape those judging eyes, when the world shattered.

A thunderous BOOM ripped through the street, so loud it seemed to tear the air apart. The ground trembled beneath Zack’s feet, and in an instant, a wall of fire and smoke burst outward from the bank’s grand entrance. Windows shattered in a violent cascade of glass, spraying the crowd. Screams erupted, raw and panicked, as people dove for cover, scattering like frightened chickens.

Zack’s body hit the pavement before he even realized he had fallen. The explosion still echoed in his skull, his ears ringing like a bell that wouldn’t stop. Dust and smoke rolled across the street, making the once-pristine bank a smoldering ruin.

Then came various figures dressed in garish red suits, faces hidden behind cheap masks and goggles. They spilled out of the fire like demons, each one clutching rifles, shotguns, even bazookas. Huge duffel bags stuffed with bills hung from their shoulders, money fluttering free with every careless swing.

“Hah! Too easy!” One of them jeered, his voice muffled by his mask as he tossed a burning wad of cash onto the ground. Another laughed, a high-pitched cackle that cut through the panic of the crowd.

Zack’s pulse quickened. ‘What the hell… am I watching a movie? Wait the fucks a movie?’

The stink of gunpowder already crept into the air, sharp and acrid.

Sirens blared closer, and within moments, the street became a battlefield. Police cruisers screeched to a halt, forming a barricade. Officers piled out, crouched behind car doors and hoods, their weapons drawn and aimed.

“FREEZE!” The commanding officer shouted through a bullhorn. “Drop your weapons! Drop the money! Hands where we can see them!”

For a split second, time seemed to hang in the air. The criminals shifted, exchanging glances beneath their masks. 

Then one, taller than the rest, spat on the ground and raised his rifle. “Like hell we will.”

The sound of the first shot cracked the tension—and unleashed hell.

Gunfire erupted, deafening, muzzle flashes strobing the smoke-filled street. Windows shattered, sparks flew as bullets ricocheted off car doors. Civilians screamed, scrambling for cover, trampling each other in their desperation to escape. The police shouted commands, voices drowned beneath the ceaseless roar of lead.

Zack pressed himself flat against the pavement, heart hammering in his chest. A bullet zipped so close overhead he swore he felt the heat graze his scalp. His breath came quick and shallow, every instinct screaming at him to run—but run where? He dared not move, terrified a stray round would find him.

‘Don’t get noticed. Don’t get shot. Just stay down, stay invisible.’ He told himself, curling tighter against the concrete. He peeked out just enough to see chaos unravel before him—criminals blazing wildly, officers holding their ground.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, something incredible happened.

A rush of wind split the air above, sharp enough to make Zack’s hair whip across his face. He blinked up, and through the haze he saw her. A figure descending from the sky with impossible grace.

She landed with a force that cracked the pavement, crouched low before rising tall. Blonde hair caught the smoke-tainted light like strands of gold, eyes blue, sharp and bright with unwavering resolve. The red and blue uniform clung to her frame, bold and unmistakable, and on her chest shone a symbol the crimson S.

“Who?” Zack whispered, his voice trembling.

The savior was revealed to be Supergirl.

The girl of steel stood there like a living beacon, utterly unafraid of the bullets still flying around her. A criminal near the bank snarled and aimed his rifle at her. He pulled the trigger—bullets spat toward her in a deadly line. But the rounds might as well have been paper. They pinged harmlessly off her body, sparks dancing as if the metal dared challenge steel.

“This is your only warning surrender or else I will have to take you down,” 

Unfortunately her warning fell into deaf ears as the criminals in red reloaded their guns.

“Really?” Her voice rang out, sharp but almost playful. “You’re gonna try that?”

Before a man could finish reloading, she blurred forward, her fist connecting with his chest in a swift but restrained strike. He flew back several feet, crashing into a wall and slumping, groaning.

Another tried to flank her with a shotgun. She spun, cape flaring, and with a flick of her wrist, she knocked the weapon from his hands, sending it skittering across the pavement. A swift kick sent him tumbling into his comrades like bowling pins.

Zack couldn’t look away. His breath caught in awe. She was moving faster than his eyes could track, weaving through the criminals with impossible speed, dismantling them like a force of nature wrapped in human form. Every punch, every movement carried strength he couldn’t comprehend—yet there was precision too. She wasn’t killing them, just… ending the fight.

“Holy… crap,” Zack murmured, pressing a hand against his chest as if to steady his pounding heart. ‘Is this real? Am I dreaming? How… how is she even able to do that?’

His mind clawed for answers, for explanations, but all he found was that same void of memory. No past, no identity—just the image before him. The girl continued to defy reality as bullets, gravity, and fear itself bent to her will.

For the first time since he woke up in that dumpster, Zack felt something other than confusion and despair. He felt… hope.

Zack couldn’t move or think. All he could do was stare in stunned silence as the blonde girl continued to tear through the criminals like they were nothing. Bullets bounced off her body as though they were pebbles striking steel.

‘Who is she? How… how is this even possible?’ Zack’s thoughts spiraled. 

As Supergirl continued taking down the criminal and catching the various stray bullets that were heading to the crowd of civilians that had stopped to stare at her. Her sight then landed on the brown haired man. 

With Zack freezing as his eyes locked with hers.

Her gaze locked on his ragged figure half-curled laying on the floor. Not hostile, not suspicious, but more worried about why this civilian was here and not far away from the dangerous situation.

For a moment, Zack forgot how to breathe. ‘She’s looking at me?’

That was when everything went wrong.

One of the criminals, ignored and hidden in the haze of smoke, dragged himself up from behind an overturned desk. He was shaking, blood dripping down his arm, but his grin was feral. He hefted a weapon far deadlier than the others—a shoulder-mounted bazooka, its wide mouth aimed directly at her back.

Zack’s heart stopped.

She didn’t see him. She was still looking at him.

“No…” The word slipped out before he realized it. His muscles moved without thought. Before fear could paralyze him, he was already on his feet, sprinting across broken glass and shattered stone.

The world slowed. He saw the criminal’s finger tightening on the trigger, saw the faint glint of the rocket about to launch. And in that single heartbeat, Zack made a choice.

“Look out!”

He slammed into her with everything he had. The two of them went tumbling across the pavement, his arms wrapped around her as if he could somehow shield her from what was coming. The heat of the explosion never came, but his chest tightened all the same.

‘I did it—I saved her,’ Zack thought wildly, breath ragged as he clutched her closer. For the first time since waking up, he felt… an accomplishment..

But then—

[Connection established: 5%.]

The voice wasn’t hers. It wasn’t his either. It echoed in his skull like a metallic voice threading through his mind with authority. Zack gasped, eyes wide. “Wha—what the hell was that?!”

Supergirl blinked in surprise as Zack held her, then gently but firmly pushed him off. In a smooth motion, she rolled to her feet, placing herself between Zack and the enemy.

“Stay behind me,” She said, her tone firm but kind, as if she were used to giving this command a thousand times.

Zack could only stare at her back, trembling. “But—I…”

Her cape swayed as she stepped forward, eyes narrowing on the criminal who wasn't laying on the ground yet. Supergirl raised her hand, calm and steady.

“You really don’t want to do that,” She warned, her voice carrying over the wreckage like a bell of final judgment.

But the criminal screamed in rage as he fired another rocket.

Supergirl didn’t so much as blink when the rocket hissed through the air. She turned, a blur of motion, and in the span of a heartbeat, she was airborne and the rocket exploded in the air. Then with one swift kick, she sent the weapon flying from the criminal’s hands, then in the same fluid motion she disarmed him, twisted the launcher into a heap of useless scrap, and dropped him onto the pavement with enough force to knock the fight out of him.

The rest of the thugs had tried to rally, but it was useless. Her fists and speed ended it in seconds. One by one they fell, groaning on the ground, weapons scattered across the asphalt. Soon the battlefield was quiet save for the distant ringing of sirens and the groans of the defeated.

Zack lay where he had fallen, stunned into silence. ‘She… she took them all down. Like it was nothing.’

Supergirl turned, brushing dust from her hands, her sharp eyes softening when they found him again. She strode over and offered her hand, her expression warmer now, almost kind.

“Here. Let me help you up.”

Zack hesitated, then slowly reached out. Her grip was firm yet gentle, pulling him effortlessly to his feet as though he weighed nothing. For a moment, he just stared at her, unable to form words, his mind spinning with questions he couldn’t begin to ask.

Around them, the police swarmed the street, handcuffing the groaning criminals and hauling them toward patrol cars. Radios crackled. Commands were shouted. But in the chaos, Zack only saw her.

Finally, he managed to speak. “Th-thank you. For… saving me.”

Supergirl gave a small smile, tilting her head. “You’re welcome. But…” Her tone shifted, becoming firmer. “You shouldn’t have tried to save me, it was unnecessary. That rocket launcher wouldn’t have hurt me, it wouldn’t have even landed a scratch. But you—you could’ve been killed by what you did.”

Zack froze. Her words sank in like stones. ‘Not necessary’… His chest tightened. For a fleeting moment, he thought he’d been a hero, that maybe what he did mattered. But now? Now it felt like he’d been nothing but a liability.

“Sorry I… got in the way,” he muttered, his voice low, eyes downcast. Shame burned in his stomach.

Supergirl frowned, studying him. Then her expression shifted to confusion. “But… how did you push me in the first place?”

Zack blinked, his head snapping up. “What?”

“I mean,” She said, hands resting lightly on her hips, “you shouldn’t have been able to move me at all. Not an inch. Yet somehow… you did. How?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zack stammered, his heart thundering. ‘I just tackled her… didn’t I? Is that such a big deal?’

Before he could say more, voices rose around them. A crowd had gathered, civilians pressing closer, smartphones raised, flashing cameras already capturing the aftermath. Reporters shoved through, shouting questions:

“Supergirl! Who’s the man with you?”

 “Was this a planned attack?” 

“Can you tell us who these criminals are?”

Supergirl’s jaw tightened. She didn’t want this circus. But she still had a thousand questions as she wanted to know the strange feeling when he touched her.

Her hand shot out, wrapping firmly but gently around Zack’s arm. “Hold on.”

“H-hold on? What do you—”

And then the ground was gone.

Air rushed past Zack’s face as the world dropped away beneath him. His stomach lurched violently, his hands flailing until they found her shoulder. He looked down and saw the city shrinking rapidly, streets becoming lines, cars becoming ants.

“Holy—! I’m flying?!” Zack’s voice cracked, panic rising as the wind tore at his ragged clothes. “Oh, God—I’m flying!”

“Calm down,” Supergirl said, her voice steady, reassuring. She adjusted her grip, holding him securely against her. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

“I—I’m gonna die, I’m gonna—”

Connection established: 12%.

The voice hit his mind again, cold and mechanical. Zack gasped, clutching his head as his panic doubled. ‘There it is again! That voice! Who is that?!’

Supergirl meanwhile glanced down at him, puzzled. She’d flown countless people to safety before—victims, civilians, children. But this was different. With him in her arms, she felt… at ease. A strange calm she couldn’t explain, a warmth that made her not want to let him go.

She looked away quickly, flying higher into the open sky and searched for a place to give them privacy.

Done. Tell me what you think and if I made any mistakes.