MHA: UltraMan

Ultraman smirked beneath his faceplate. "You got it."

In a flash, he shot downward, tearing through the air and leaving a swirling trail of snow in his wake. The world blurred around him as he pushed his speed to the limit, the wind howling past his ears.

Just as he pulled ahead of the blur chasing him, the bur skidded to a sudden stop, his eyes widening behind the his goggles

"Oh, shit," he muttered.

Standing before him was a silver-haired figure, goggles obscuring his eyes, his entire presence crackling with energy.

Before Ultraman could react, the speedster bolted—a blur of motion, too fast to track, too slippery to grasp.

Ultraman smirked. Instead of chasing blindly, he adapted.

He shot into motion, weaving through the air in tight, rapid circles. The wind howled in his wake, swirling into an invisible barrier that cut off every escape route.

Then—an opening.

Ultraman struck. His hands locked onto the man's shirt with unrelenting force. The sheer impact sent a shockwave rippling outward, the pavement beneath them cracking as he hoisted his opponent into the air.

"So, do your legs work in the sky?" Jackson remarked, but his expression softened as he got a closer look. "Wait… you're just a kid."

The boy struggled in his grip. "Please put me down—I'm sorry."

Ultraman slowly descended, releasing him. But the kid didn't run. He just stood there, looking no older than fourteen.

His voice crackled through the comms. "Guys, it's a kid—looks like he's no older than 14."

"What? Black Widow, respond," came the sharp call.

Iron Man's silhouette streaked across the sky, his voice low and urgent. "Jarvis, sweep the area—now."

The AI's calm voice echoed in Tony's earpiece. "Sir, 100 heat signatures are converging from the east side of the building."

Before the words had fully settled, the Avengers had finished neutralizing the last of the goons. In an instant, they were on the move, heading toward the location Tony had pointed out. Hulk thundered through the wall, smashing it open, revealing a grim sight—children locked in cages, dressed in tattered rags, their faces a mix of fear and exhaustion.

Ultraman hovered a few distances away in the air, his mind racing. What the hell were they doing to those kids?

Without wasting a second, he contacted Director Fury, urgently explaining what they had found. Fury's response was immediate—he dispatched a nearby helicarrier and planes for support.

All the children gathered around Hulk, drawn to his presence. Despite his size and strength, he was gentle with them, offering a comforting presence as Ultraman went to gather food for the ones who hadn't looked like they'd eaten in days.

Soon after, SHIELD aircraft began to descend, their engines roaring as they made their approach.

Tony Stark and Captain America were deep in conversation when Director Fury walked up to them, his arms crossed.

"What were they using them for?" Fury asked, his voice low.

Tony glanced at the silver-haired kid, then back at Fury. "I had Jarvis hack into their servers. They were experimenting on them. That silver kid over there—he's one of the successful batches."

Fury's gaze sharpened. "And what happened to the unsuccessful ones?"

Tony and Steve exchanged a grim look, their eyes darkening with concern.

"They're dead," Jackson remarked, his voice flat.

Anger surged within Ultraman, a fire igniting deep inside him. Without thinking, he turned and smashed his fist into a nearby tree. The force of his punch was so powerful, the tree splintered and cracked, breaking clean through.

"If we had been here sooner, maybe we could've saved more lives," Jackson muttered, his voice tight. The thought of those kids needing a hero gnawed at him.

"Son, come with me," Steve said, his tone soft but firm.

Father and son walked a short distance away from the others, the weight of the moment hanging heavily between them.

Jackson stopped, his fists clenching. "Dad…" He turned to Steve, removing his helmet and letting it fall to the ground with a dull thud. "Why? Why are people so cruel?"

Steve placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip steady. "Son, I can't explain why people do evil things. But you need to understand something—there are always going to be people out there calling for help. And you can't save everyone. You just… you need to remember that."

"I know, but it still hurts." Jackson placed a hand over his chest, as if trying to ease the weight of it.

"Save the ones you can, son," Steve replied, his voice steady. The moment hung between them, father and son, until something caught their attention—a small child, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, barely older than four, watching them quietly from a distance.

Steve's face softened into a smile. "Hey there."

The girl stepped out of the shadows, her small feet shuffling toward them. "Your clothes are pretty," she giggled, her hands clasped behind her back, swaying back and forth. Then, she reached her tiny hand up, a silent plea to be picked up.

Steve's smile grew as he bent down, lifting her into his arms. She squealed with delight, her giggles filling the air. "Let's go horsing!" she shouted, her feet swinging happily.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head as he carried her toward the rest of the children. When they reached the group, he handed her to a nearby SHIELD agent. The girl's eyes dimmed with sadness as she watched Steve and Jackson walk away, her small fingers curling in the air, reaching for them.