Chapter 23

The cool ocean breeze carried the faint scent of salt and seaweed as Clark Kent stood on the secluded beach, his arms crossed, watching the forlorn figure of The Deep trudging through the sand. The once-proud member of The Seven looked a shadow of his former self, his shoulders slumped, his gait unsteady.

Clark's jaw clenched as he remembered Annie's tearful recounting of what The Deep had tried to do to her. The anger that surged through him was almost overwhelming, but he forced it down. He wasn't here for vengeance. He was here because, despite everything, he believed in second chances.

"Kevin," Clark called out, using The Deep's real name.

The Deep's head snapped up, his eyes widening in surprise and fear as he recognized Superman. "I... I didn't do anything, I swear," he stammered, taking a step back.

Clark held up a hand, his expression stern but not unkind. "I'm not here to hurt you, Kevin. I'm here to talk."

For a moment, The Deep looked like he might bolt, but then his shoulders sagged in resignation. "About what? Come to rub it in? Tell me what a piece of shit I am? Trust me, I already know."

Clark shook his head, taking a few steps closer. "No. I'm here to offer you a chance. A chance to be better."

The Deep let out a bitter laugh. "Better? Look at me. I'm a joke. A washed-up, pathetic excuse for a hero. What could I possibly do to be 'better'?"

"You can start by acknowledging what you did," Clark said, his voice firm. "Not just to Annie, but to all the women you've hurt. You can take responsibility for your actions, face the consequences, and commit to change."

The Deep's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "And then what? You think people will just forgive and forget?"

Clark shook his head. "No. Forgiveness has to be earned, Kevin. It won't be easy. It'll probably be the hardest thing you've ever done. But it's possible. If you're willing to put in the work."

For a long moment, The Deep stared out at the ocean, the waves lapping gently at the shore. When he turned back to Clark, there was a glimmer of something in his eyes. Not quite hope, but perhaps the seed of it.

"Why?" The Deep asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why would you, of all people, offer me this chance?"

Clark's serious expression softened slightly. "I'm putting together a team..."

And at that, The Deep's eyes widened.

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Meanwhile, as the "Believe" Expo continued on, the main stage was ablaze with lights as Firecracker took her place at the podium. The crowd, still buzzing from the day's events, fell into an expectant hush.

Stillwell was personally 'recommended' that Firecracker be allowed to speak. From who? Take a guess...

Misty took a deep breath, her earlier breakdown pushed aside by years of media training. But as she looked out at the sea of faces, something shifted inside her. The carefully prepared speech suddenly felt hollow, inadequate.

"Ladies and gentlemen'," she began, her southern accent strong and clear. "I stand before you today not just as Firecracker, but as a person. A person who has seen both the heights of heroism and the depths of human cruelty."

A murmur ran through the crowd. This wasn't the typical rah-rah superhero speech they were expecting.

"We talk a lot about belief here," Misty continued. "Belief in heroes, in a higher power, in ourselves. But today, I want to talk about a different kind of belief. The kind that can change the world."

She paused, her eyes scanning the audience. In the wings, Vought executives shifted nervously, unsure where this was going.

"I want to tell you a story," Misty said, her voice softening. "A story about Superman."

The crowd leaned in, eager to hear about the mysterious hero who had captured the world's imagination.

"It was a normal day in Metropolis," Misty began, her eyes taking on a faraway look. "I was on patrol when I heard the screams. A little girl, trapped in a burning building. I rushed in, but the smoke was too thick, the heat too intense. I couldn't reach her."

Misty's voice cracked slightly, the memory still vivid. "I was about to give up when suddenly, he was there. Superman. He didn't hesitate, didn't showboat. He just... acted. He flew into that inferno like it was nothing, and moments later, he emerged with the girl in his arms."

The audience was rapt, hanging on her every word.

"But here's the thing," Misty continued, her voice growing stronger. "It wasn't his power that struck me most in that moment. It was his kindness. The way he comforted that little girl, made her laugh even as the building crumbled behind them. That's when I understood what true heroism is. It's not about the fancy costume or the superpowers. It's about believing in something greater than yourself, and acting on that belief."

As Misty's speech drew to a close, there wasn't a dry eye in the house. Even the Vought executives looked moved, though they quickly tried to hide it.

"Superman showed me that day that one person, acting with courage and compassion, can change everything," Misty concluded. "So I ask you today: what do you believe in? And more importantly, what are you willing to do about it?"

The applause was thunderous, a standing ovation that seemed to shake the very foundations of the convention center.

Miles away, unaware of the impact his actions had inspired, Clark Kent was facing a crisis of his own. The Metropolis Bridge, an architectural marvel spanning the city's harbor, was groaning under the strain of a massive pileup. Steel cables snapped like twine, sending cars and screaming passengers plummeting towards the churning waters below.

In a blur of red and blue, Superman arrived on the scene. His enhanced senses took in every detail in a fraction of a second – the weakening support structures, the panicked faces of trapped motorists, the approach of rescue vehicles still minutes away.

There was no time to waste. Clark sprang into action, his body a whirlwind of motion. He caught falling cars midair, depositing them safely on stable sections of the bridge. His heat vision welded snapped cables back together, buying precious time for evacuations.

As he worked, Clark became aware of a particular car teetering on the edge of the collapsing roadway. Inside, a stern-faced woman with graying blonde hair gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white with tension. There was something about her, a steely determination in her eyes that caught Clark's attention.

Just as the car began to slip, Clark swooped in. He caught the vehicle, cradling it gently as he lowered it to safety on the shore.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" Clark asked, helping the woman from the car.

She nodded, her composure remarkable given the circumstances. "Yes, thank you. That was... impressive work up there."

Clark smiled, about to respond when his super-hearing picked up more cries for help. "Excuse me, I have to..."

The woman nodded understanding. "Go. And... thank you again, Superman."

As Clark soared back to the bridge, he remained unaware that he had just saved Grace Mallory, the Deputy Director of the CIA. Who was investigating the heritage of Superman and his main base of operation, Kansas.

Mallory watched him go, her brow furrowed in thought.

For years, she had viewed Superman as a potential threat, a wild card in the delicate balance of power. That wouldn't change... But now, having witnessed his selfless heroism firsthand, doubt began to creep in. Was she wrong about him? Could he be the ally they needed? He was the one who brought Homelander down, but wouldn't that make him more dangerous?

What if instead of planning to contain Superman, they took another approach? What if they propped him up to be the true face of heroism...

If it worked on dictatorships, why not here at home?

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...

As the sun set over Metropolis, casting the damaged but still-standing bridge in a golden glow, Grace Mallory made a decision. She pulled out her phone, and dialed a secure number.

"It's me," she said when the call connected. "We need to reassess our approach to the Superman situation. I think... I think we might have been looking at this from the wrong perspective."

Perspective is an incredible thing when you're forced to face it.

All it took was a man with the power of a god, proving his humanity with every life he saved.