The Act of Compassion
Danyal Adama hovered silently miles above the Persian Gulf, arms crossed over his massive chest. He could feel the air thin around him, the cold growing around his body; he could practically touch the point where the atmosphere is no more, reaching his hand into the very vacuum of space itself. His eyes were closed, his ears listening intently to the vast lands inhabited by millions beneath him. Golden boots touched thin wisps of cloud, dry winds blowing them and the sand underneath from the Sahara to the Dead Sea. Slowly, he opened his eyes, sparkling quietly with electricity. He heard cries of anguish alongside laughter and happiness, and saw acts of brutality and maliciousness alongside scenes of love and hope. My home, he thought, stoic features examining the vast expanse of desert, sandstorms blowing across the massive area. Oil was consistently pumped from the ground, exported across the world; cultures mingled in vast cities, a modern day oasis for any man to feel welcome; and still, many starved, unable to farm crops successfully due to drought and heat.
For my first act, I save thee, he thought, opening his eyes wide. Slowly, he raised his arms, electricity crackling from his heart to his fingertips. It ran along his limbs, twisting and arcing across rippling muscles before striking nearby wisps of cloud, swirling across the Exemplar's chest. The clouds multiplied, water vapor drawn in and condensed from around the Earth to form a massive storm system, growing to encompass the entire Middle Eastern subcontinent. Thunder ruptured the silence, a cacophony that deafened any activity. Lightning was now generated by the weather, threatening to strike hundreds of innocent villages and burn down years' worth of agriculture. But the World's Fist focused, drawing every strike into his own form. Thousands of blue-gold tendrils arced into his hovering body, supercharging his will and generating massive thunderclaps. The booms were heard around the world as one of the largest clouds ever recorded began to form around Danyal, a solitary being in an unfathomably enormous hurricane. Great winds twisted and turned, brewing the storm into a fantastic inferno of lightning and wind. Pure chaos above, but silent rainfall beneath.
Danyal contained the storm, keeping it drawn in around his body. A great deluge came, a rainfall across the Middle East. He measured it in equal quantities, his indescribably advanced mind working overtime to focus the rains in areas where they were needed most, while sparing any area that would fall victim to flooding and oversaturation. Sweat dripped down his divine brow as he monitored every last drop, sending it into rivers and lakes, flooding valleys that would provide fertile rivers. He spared the cities from any flooding, working just as hard to protect them as he was to fill the empty canyons with life-giving water. His muscles tensed as lightning sank into him, the winds buffeting his body with unimaginable power. Gradually, he reduced the intensity of the massive storm, slowing and condensing the cloud over the Middle East to remain in the air, slowly dissipating on the edges. There, in his homeland, the rains would fall, and none would fall prey to drought. Food would be plentiful, and happiness would abound. Already over the thunder he could hear cries of joy.
And he smiled, for it was good.
The Act of Power
The rain was still falling, as it had for an entire day and an entire night. Children were playing in the parks and plazas, taking in every last drop. The rainfall had been measured, carefully applied, so as to accelerate the growth of plantlife and food in specific areas. Many were calling it an act of providence, but others knew better. They knew that he would be coming. They clutched at their guns, their bombs, and their missiles, arming every last warhead in preparation for their trial by fire. Sweat dripped down the brows of those in command, the wicked ones who would seek to oppress and control everything they saw. Knives were sharpened, and bombs were armed.
And still they were not prepared, for who can prepare for the might of the world itself?
For my second act, I punish the wicked. Like a whirlwind he came, ripping apart their operation with his bare hands. The innocents who saw him described him as little more than a flash of lightning, a black-and-gold savior who merely flew past their captors and tore them away with the mighty wind that followed. News would spread of his arrival in one base mere seconds before he arrived at the next, hands bloody and eyes glowing. He never stopped moving, ripping through steel, brick, and flesh, jaw clenched as he systematically dismantled every terrorist operation he could find. Tanks stolen from puppet governments crumpled underneath his fists, bullets ricocheted from his unstoppable form, and cruel men snapped between his hands. He felt every last one of them, his knuckles piercing iron bulkheads and cleaving through armies of oppressive militants. He left behind a trail of twisted, scorched metal, the writhing bodies of terrorists, and the faint smell of burnt oxygen.
Those held hostage by these cruel men were set free, escorted by champions hand-picked by Danyal himself. He had traveled the world in the days leading up to this grandest of moments, a historic event that would mark the beginning of a new era for the Middle East. The loyal Sentinel Hawk personally aided in rescuing dozens of captives, leading them to safe zones and attending to the wounded, as well as handling the remnants of a few terrorist installations. Others had assured they would help, as already medical pouches were falling from ingeniously designed drones, undoubtedly deployed by someone with a mind capable of keeping track of precisely where, and when, the supplies would be needed. An enigmatic shapeshifter, met in the most bizarre of circumstance, had aided in locating a few particularly well-hidden terror cells, and had even been so kind as to handle them himself, before Danyal had even arrived on the scene.
By the end of the day, at least ninety-one percent of the extremist terror cells in the Middle East had been sufficiently quashed, and one-by-one, their puppet governments overthrown. Lightning struck individual buildings, targeted for their tactical usefulness to the terror operations. Massive cyclones ripped them apart, while leaving surrounding structures, even those directly adjacent to the scene of devastation, untouched. On occasion, Danyal found himself confronted with a superhuman opponent, often a minion of a particularly nasty extremist group. They would breathe fire, or extend their limbs, or teleport, or find some other way to be an annoyance; Danyal tore through them all.
Any violent areas that were not subject to official terrorist activity had been disarmed. It had been a much slower process, and in some regards, more difficult. Many were either unready or unwilling to release their firearms, but most had been convinced that Danyal would protect them. Those who were still hesitant about giving up their weapons found them taken by force; compromise would be essential to peace, but at this time, the symbolism of a day without killing in the Middle East would make more of a statement than taking away the toys of a few nervous farmers.
And he smiled, for the killing had ended.
The Act of Mercy
It would be second nature for Danyal to assume absolute rule. It was in his genes, modified forevermore by the Exemplar Spirit. He was made to rule, to govern, to reign. His very existence essentially revolved around him being able to take the throne, and competently guide his troubled people into a safe future. Any lesser man would take said instinct as an excuse to rule without question, to assume direct control of a populace in desperate need of direction. And yet, he would choose to wait with his new allies, to allow the people of the Middle East to choose exactly how to exist in this new world. The rains still fell constantly, heavier in drier areas, and a light drizzle in others. In some areas, like major cities, there was no rainfall at all. There had been a measured decrease in precipitation around the world, as Danyal had borrowed much of the liquid from other airspaces. Everything was pre-planned, though, and no area would be in any danger of unforeseen drought, despite the decrease in rainfall.
"I issue to you, my people, an ultimatum...in three days' time, I will take a more active role in your lives...how active I will be is up to you. I offer you the choice of how I will spend my time with you; if you so desire, I shall guide you, my people, into a bright tomorrow. I swear that I shall protect you from any threat...be it foreign, or internal. Follow me, and you shall experience utopia, my people. Choose."
And with that, he flew far into the raining air, leaving crowds of thousands chanting his name. Not the name Danyal Adama, but the name Exemplar. For it was this name that would symbolize that which they should strive to achieve on their own, a guiding light in dark times.
Above Egypt he hovered, contacting his numerous allies, preparing them for what would come next. There would always be those who oppose peace. And he sensed that soon, they may be upon them.
And he smiled, for he was ready.
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