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The pursuit transformed the park's calm into a strange chaos. While some civilians fled in fear, others remained frozen in place, torn between bewilderment and the amusement of watching officers chase after such an unusual figure.
A pair of elderly men, walking with the slow gait of their years, stopped dead in their tracks. Leaning on their canes, they watched the police deployment and shook their heads in unison, expressions of disappointment etched onto their faces. To them, the officers didn't command respect; they inspired pity.
"Look at that, old friend... today's generation is made of glass," one of them commented with a huff of disgust, looking away as if the scene were an insult to his intelligence .
"They can't even catch a simple hippie. Pathetic."
"They're a disgrace," the other agreed, his white beard shaking with a raspy laugh.
Without another word, he resumed his leisurely stroll with his friend, turning his back on the officers' mess as if it weren't worth another second of his time.
"God, I can't believe this!" he gasped, his breath coming in short bursts.
He didn't stop; his feet pounded the pavement hard while five officers stayed hot on his heels. The park became a blur of green and gray around him.
"Stop right there, woman!" barked one of the policemen, his voice betraying a mix of exhaustion and frustration.
"No way!" the protagonist shouted back.
Despite his fine, feminine features, his expression was one of pure determination. His long green hair whipped violently with every stride, like an emerald lash in the wind. He had been running for ten minutes, and strangely, his skin didn't show a single drop of sweat, nor did his lungs scream for air.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up.
"Yes!" he let out a cry of victory upon spotting a dense grove of trees.
He glanced over his shoulder. The police were falling behind, except for one young officer who was almost stepping on his shadow—but it wasn't enough. With an explosive burst of speed, the green-haired youth lunged toward the trees.
"Watch it, girl! Wait... is that you? Why are you running?" A blonde woman, who recognized him instantly, had to jump aside to avoid the collision.
"Sorry!" he yelled without slowing down, disappearing among the trunks in a perfect, agile zigzag.
"She's getting away!" was the last thing he heard before the silence of the woods swallowed the shouts of the law.
An hour later, the chaos of the park was only a memory.
"Holy shit... they really are tall," he muttered to himself, tilting his head back until his neck ached.
His eyes scanned the peaks of glass and steel that seemed to pierce the clouds. The architecture was overwhelming, imposing.
"This is definitely the United States," he whispered, feeling tiny among the crowd that filed past him without a second glance.
THWACK!
A loud, heavy palm landed on his back, snapping his trance. His amazement vanished instantly, replaced by a sigh of irritation.
"Excuse me, sir," he said sharply, brushing the stranger's hand away with a dry slap.
He turned with a frown, finding an older man dressed in gym clothes. He had the look of a veteran trainer and wore a radiant, almost mocking smile.
"Sir, why are you hitting my back just like that?" the green-haired youth scolded, keeping his gaze hard.
The old man simply shrugged, brushing off the young man's anger.
"I just wondered to myself: 'What is this guy doing looking at buildings like they're spaceships?' I got the hunch you're a foreigner stepping into Metropolis for the first time."
"Yeah, I'm new..." he said with disdain.
"I see you're a man of few words," the old man remarked with a calm that was almost irritating. "And I also see you're barefoot. Your clothes are a wreck—you look like a hermit who just crawled out of the woods. You've even got a couple of leaves hanging from that green hair of yours."
The youth stood still, feeling the weight of the old man's observant gaze.
"Look, I can help you," the man continued, crossing his arms. "I can get you a job and a place to take a good shower... What do you say, kid?"
The youth arched an eyebrow. The offer was too good to be true, and in his world, "too good" usually meant a trap.
"Sir, I barely know you," he replied in a cold voice, pinning a suspicious look on the trainer. "I'll pass."
Without waiting for an answer, he took a step back, then another, and quickly vanished into the Metropolis crowd, leaving the old man mid-sentence...
some time later..
He quickened his pace, trying to lose himself in the shadows of the skyscrapers while his mind raced at a thousand miles per hour.
"Am I really him? Am I Enkidu?" he wondered in a barely audible whisper. "I'm supposed to have his powers... or something like that."
He stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the flow of people nearly colliding with him. He looked at his hands, slowly opening and closing his fists.
"Maybe I'm just a common human who inherited his face," he speculated, but then he scowled. "No... that can't be. I've been running forever and I don't feel tired. Not a drop of sweat, no racing pulse. Nothing."
He stood there, static as an emerald statue, lost in thought. People began to walk around him, casting looks of contempt or discomfort, as if he were an annoying obstacle in their routine. The murmurs weren't far behind.
"Freak!" a man shouted with a slurred voice.
A beer can flew through the air and hit the green-haired youth's back with a dry metallic thud. The remaining liquid splashed his clothes, but he didn't even flinch.
"Oh no, honey! Don't do that, poor woman..." babbled a girl with short black hair, barely able to hold up her drunk boyfriend as she tried to pull him away.
The protagonist said nothing. There was no counterattack, no look of hatred. He simply stood there, gaze lost on the asphalt, processing his reality.
If I don't have those powers, or if I only have half... what am I? he thought, feeling a new weight in his chest. Or is it that I have it all, but I need to train? Is there a seal to break to unlock the power of a god in this body?
...
With the Old Man...
The old man stood there without moving.
"Dammit, dammit! I screwed up again," he cursed himself aloud, scratching his head vigorously as he watched the green-haired silhouette disappear for good into the crowd.
He stood there feeling like a fool in the middle of the sidewalk.
"Did I do something weird? What does it matter..." he asked himself, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "What would Superman do in my shoes? Should I go after her or not?"
The man let out a guttural growl of pure frustration. He ran both hands over the little hair he had left, desperate. The girl—or boy, he wasn't even sure anymore—seemed to be the same age as his granddaughter. The idea of leaving someone so young and disoriented alone in a city like Metropolis made his stomach churn.
"Agh!" he growled again, letting out a heavy sigh that seemed to deflate him. "I'll have to go after her. Dammit, why is trying to be a good person so complicated?"
He adjusted his gym jacket and straightened his back. His gaze changed; doubt transformed into a spark of purpose.
"Superman saved my life," he whispered to himself, like a vow. "He gave me the chance to see my granddaughter grow up. The least I can do is look after someone who needs it."
With renewed determination, the old man clenched his fists and began to walk with a firm stride, pushing through the crowd in the same direction the green-haired youth had gone...