Brightburn: Invasion

Zarthon

Twin suns illuminated the sky. The light overtaking the shadows as the suns moved over the great City. Adjoined golden towers overshadowed the smaller towers below.

Sleek silver and gold vehicles that hovered over metal streets looked like ants from these towers. Women, men and children with painted golden skin and adorned clothing walked down the streets with bags in their hands and their families.

Every one of their minds joined together as part of the hive. A collective, a unit. All of them to be accessed, molded and taken over by their betters.

It was certainly a utopia. Built for the the most superior beings of the universe. A people who had taken over entire galaxies, enslaved the weak and destroyed those who oppose their power.

It was the only way for an entire civilization to survive. It was the right way to survive.

In the cold vacuum of space, only few civilizations could survive this vast universe. Those who had discovered space travel, either used it to fight or hide.

This is what Brandon had been taught.

That was why Zarthinians, his people, were the most feared in the entire universe. An entire race of invincible, unstoppable killing machines truly could have only one purpose,

To dominate and destroy on a whim.

6 years.

It had been 6 long years since Brandon landed on Zarthon. 6 years since he was bested by someone he thought had loved him. 6 years Since he learned that he wasn't just abandoned on Earth. He had a mother, a real mother, and he was royalty.

He had everything he ever wanted.

Money, fame, recognition, the women threw themselves at him. His murderous urges were almost completely suppressed around his own people. As if his very blood knew that he was around people far closer to his superior being than humans.

He had learned so much about his own biology. Aggression and dominance was natural in Zarthinian people. A result of thousands of years of hardship and war with other aggressive creatures had molded his kind into unmerciful imperialists with a collective hive mind.

It was true that it had taken Brandon some time to accept his very nature. But he accepted it nonetheless and under his true mother's direction began the proper training to become the strongest Zarthon for his people to look up to.

So it was here, in the training arena, where Brandon has just dislocated the jaw of a lesser being that he had chosen for a punching bag. His hot blood was roaring in his ears as the Hauta man twisted from the impact and landed in the black sand.

"Get up." Brandon bit out in Zarthinian.

"Please....I don't want to fight anymore..." the Hauta begged as he tried to sit up. It's blue skin baring sensitive purple spots from where Brandon has struck him before.

"Get up, or you'll die." Brandon threatened. His voice far deeper and deadlier than when he was just a senior in highschool.

The Hauta's large green eyes blinked away tears, his limbs trembling as he began to rise on his 3 toed feet. Brandon could admit that he missed when his eyes could shoot beams of heat into his enemies. When he could fly, when he could hear the heartbeat of deceivers. When he could break fingers with just a light touch.