Every instinct flared at once—ears forward, body tense, eyes fixed on the door. The quiet safety of the apartment vanished in an instant, replaced by the sharp edge of uncertainty.
Krypto, by contrast, barely moved.
“It’s okay,” he said calmly.
The door opened.
And there he was.
Superman stepped inside, closing the door behind him with an easy, practiced motion. He looked… normal. No cape, no dramatic entrance—just a man coming home. But there was something about him, something steady and immense, that Perrin felt immediately.
Perrin didn’t move from the couch, but his muscles coiled tight, ready.
Superman paused when he noticed him.
For a moment, the room was completely still.
“Krypto,” Superman said, calm but clearly surprised. “We have a guest?”
Krypto stood, tail giving a small wag.
Superman’s gaze shifted back to Perrin, assessing but not unkind.
Perrin’s ears flicked back slightly. He didn’t growl, but there was a quiet warning in his posture.
Superman stepped a little closer—but slowly, deliberately, giving Perrin space.
Krypto glanced at him. “You’re okay,” he murmured. “He’s safe.”
Perrin hesitated.
His eyes moved between them—Krypto’s calm certainty, Superman’s steady patience.
Superman crouched slightly, lowering himself, then extended a hand. “No pressure,” he said softly. “You can come to me if you want.”
Perrin stayed where he was.
Seconds passed.
Then, cautiously, he slid off the couch and took a step forward.
Then another.
Each movement measured.
He stopped just short of Superman’s hand, lowering his head slightly as he sniffed.
The scent was… strange.
Familiar, in a way. Strong. Warm. Not threatening.
Perrin hesitated one second longer—
Then gave a quick, tentative lick.
Superman’s expression softened immediately, a small smile forming. “Well… that’s a good sign.”
Perrin didn’t pull away when the hand shifted, gently scratching behind his ear.
He stiffened at first.
Then, slowly, just slightly—
Relaxed.
Krypto watched the whole thing, quietly satisfied.
After a moment, Superman straightened, looking between them. “Alright,” he said. “I’m guessing there’s a story here.”
Then Superman looked at Perrin again.
“…You’ve had a rough run,” he said.
Perrin woofed once, not loud but in affirmation.
Another pause.
Then Superman nodded once. “Alright.”
Perrin blinked. “Alright?” He cocked his head waiting for the human to explain.
“You can stay,” Superman said simply. “At least until we figure things out.”
Perrin glanced at Krypto, almost like he needed confirmation this was real.
Krypto gave a small nod.
“…Thanks,” Perrin said, a little unsure but wagging his tail to show his gratefulness.
Superman gave a faint smile.
---
Later that night, the apartment had gone quiet.
Superman had retreated to another room, and the lights were dimmed low. The city outside hummed faintly through the windows, distant and steady.
Perrin lay stretched across one end of the couch, while Krypto rested nearby.
“…So,” Krypto said after a while, breaking the silence. “Training.”
Perrin groaned softly. “You don’t waste time, do you?”
Krypto smirked slightly. “Not really.”
Perrin shifted onto his side, facing him. “What would that even look like?”
“Control,” Krypto said. “Understanding what you can do. Testing limits safely.” He paused. “If your abilities really depend on who you’re around, we’ll need to map that out.”
Perrin nodded slowly. “Sounds complicated.”
“It might be,” Krypto admitted. “But it’s better than guessing.”
Perrin huffed quietly. “Fair.”
Another pause settled in.
Then Perrin spoke again, more casually this time. “You ever… have anyone? Like I did?”
Krypto tilted his head. “You mean relationships?”
“Yeah.”
Krypto thought for a moment. “A few. Hard to keep, sometimes. The… lifestyle makes it complicated.”
Perrin let out a small laugh. “Yeah. I get that.”
Krypto studied him. “The retriever you mentioned earlier—she wasn’t the only one, was she?”
Perrin hesitated.
Then shrugged. “No.”
Krypto waited.
Perrin glanced at him, then away again. “I don’t really… stick to one side, I guess. Guys, girls… didn’t matter much out there. More about who you could trust.”
Krypto blinked once, a bit surprised—but not judgmental. “Alright.”
“Wasn’t what I expected,” Krypto admitted. “But it’s not a problem.”
Perrin nodded, relaxing slightly. “Good.”
The conversation drifted after that—smaller things, lighter topics, bits of shared understanding. The tension from earlier had faded into something quieter, steadier.
Eventually, the words slowed.
Then stopped.
Perrin’s breathing deepened as sleep took hold.
Krypto remained awake a little longer, watching the room, listening to the night.
That’s when he noticed it.
Perrin’s paws twitched.
A faint whine slipped from him, barely audible.
Krypto’s ears lifted.
Perrin shifted, restless now, his breathing uneven. Another small sound—strained this time.
A dream.
Not a good one.
Krypto didn’t hesitate.
He stood, crossed the short distance, and gently circled once before lowering himself beside Perrin.
Close.
Not crowding—just enough.
Perrin stirred slightly at the contact, tension easing just a fraction.
Krypto rested his head near Perrin’s shoulder.
“Easy,” he murmured softly, though Perrin couldn’t hear it.
Gradually, the restless movements slowed.
The tension bled out.
Perrin’s breathing steadied again.
And after a few minutes, Krypto’s eyes closed too.
Curled beside each other on the couch, the city humming quietly beyond the walls—
They both drifted off into the night.
***
Morning light spilled across the room in a pale wash when Perrin finally woke, slow and creaking with sleep still clinging to him. He stretched, a quiet yawn revealing teeth that looked sharp in the soft, domestic quiet. Beside him, Krypto’s breathing settled into even, contented snores, a low rhythm that spoke of a night well spent. The apartment hummed with the ordinary cadence of a city waking up—air vents sighing, distant car horns, and the faint, almost musical whirr of a surveillance drone somewhere high above.
Perrin’s ears pricked as the door clicked softly—Krypto stirring, lifting his head with a sleepy, proprietary half-smile on his face.
“Morning,” Krypto murmured, his voice still carrying the warm coax of someone who had just woken up with a plan already forming in his mind.
Perrin blinked, padding into a more alert stance, the memory of last night riding a soft wave beneath his ribs. He’d slept, and for the first time in a long stretch, the tension hadn’t wrapped itself around him like a chain. The room’s stillness felt earned.
Krypto rolled upright, stretching his own limbs with a dog’s understated grace. Then he stood, eyes bright with a purpose Perrin could feel even before he spoke.
“Breakfast, then a new friend. Ace will want to meet you. He's Batman's dog much like I'm Sups,” Krypto said, already moving toward the kitchen nook where a small bowl and a coffee mug waited on a tray. “Ace is at the usual place. He’ll swing by if you’re down for it.”
“Someone else with powers as well ?” Perrin asked, stepping toward the window and peering out at the skyline—steel, glass, a river of people moving like tiny lights far below.
“Boxer mix,” Krypto replied, setting a bowl down for himself and Perrin then carefully flew up, opened the fridge, tilted his head and lifted a gallon of milk before pouring a careful splash of it into both. “He's the Bat Hound and probably the dog I trust most. He’s kind of a legend though don't tell him I said that...” Krypto quipped playfully.
Perrin’s ears twitched, a spark of curiosity waking him up faster than breakfast could. He moved to the edge of the couch, curling his tail around him in a habit he hadn’t realized he’d formed.
“What’s training look like with Ace?” he asked, not sure if he was ready for the full truth or just a general idea.
Krypto grinned—broad, confident, almost mischievous in that way dogs have of knowing more than they should. “Ace believes in three things: conditioning, technique, and instinct. He’s got a way of turning raw power into refined movement. And he loves showing you what a real dog can do.”
Perrin considered that, the weight of Ace’s reputation already settling into his chest like a promise.
The day began to unfold with a rhythm that felt newly possible. They rode a bike courier’s alleyway along a quiet street to a different part of the city, where a training yard lived behind a peeling warehouse door that had the aura of something both ancient and relentlessly practical. Ace greeted them with a lopsided grin and an almost ridiculous bounce in his step—his presence filling the space with a sense of “things are about to get interesting.” He was bigger than Krypto by a head, and his coat carried a sheen that looked like it had tasted wind and rain a hundred times.
“Well hey, pup,” Ace said with a growl-soft voice that vibrated with a playful lilt to it, not at all what he'd expected. “You must be Perrin. Krypto’s been talking you up like you’re a myth on a rampage for juicebox glory! ”
Perrin felt a sudden, almost intoxicating surge of energy—Ace’s certainty in him, a belief that this wasn’t simply training but an invitation to become more of what he already was.
“This here is Ace,” Krypto added, stepping back a pace so Perrin could take the lead if he wanted to. “Ace, Perrin.”
Ace nodded at Perrin, a gesture that was equal parts respect and challenge before circling him and nosing in under his tail and sniffing. Perrin a bit shy but happy to meet a friend of Kryptos' did the same, nose picking up a lot that he filed away for later. “Good to meet you" Ace woofed once he had finished sniffing. "Word is you’ve got some interesting talents. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The training session (if it could be called that) unfolded with a relentless, almost musical tempo. Ace spoke in direct, practical terms, breaking Perrin’s nerves into manageable pieces and reassembling them into a more precise, confident form. Perrin learned to focus his breath to steady the tremor at the edges of his awareness. He learned to pace his steps when moving through defined zones, to sense the boundary of a target without losing the nearest person’s safety.
And then—Ace pushed the topic into a deeper, more complicated layer. The topic that had lived just beyond Perrin’s comprehension since he first learned to shelter himself in the dark.
“You’ve got something a lot of dogs don’t: a mirror power if I'm understanding fly boy correctly,” Ace said, eyes focusing on Perrin with a mix of curiosity and earnestness that made Perrin sit a touch straighter. “When you’re around other dogs, or people, or animals with powers, you start to reflect their abilities. It’s powerful, if you learn to manage it. But it's also going to be a challenge to master because of the parts of it you don't know. A lot of it you'll probably have to find out through trail and error.”
Perrin’s breath hitched slightly. The thought had lived in a shadowy corner of his mind, often competing with fear—what if he couldn’t control it? What if it overwhelmed him?
“I’ve felt it,” Perrin admitted, voice low. “Sometimes it’s like… a flood. And it’s not always mine, almost like sniffing someone new that has a strong smell.”
Ace nodded, not smiling this time, but his expression was intent. “That’s exactly it. It’s a gift, but it’s a blade. If you don’t train it, it will cut you. If you learn to direct it, you can amplify your own power to kingdom come, and help others too. The sky's the limit my dude!”
Krypto stepped closer, adding his own measured perspective. “What matters overall is boundaries and safe usage. If Perrin can map who he mirrors and when, he could become a force multiplier—without losing his own center and control.”
Ace turned to Perrin, a rare hint of warmth breaking the tough exterior. “You’re not just a pup with a trick. You’re a hinge between different kinds of power—the kind that doesn’t stay quiet. If you want to be serious about this, you’ll need to train both the body and the mind. And you’ll need to stay grounded.”
The discussion blossomed into a plan: a few sessions a week where Perrin would practice controlled mirroring in gradually increasing environments, paired with actual physical workouts designed to build stamina, strength, and endurance. There would be simulated field work, with carefully curated partner exercises designed to test Perrin’s reflexes, instincts, and restraint. A long-term goal: using his power to anticipate and adapt in real-time to dynamic threats—an edge Bathounds' training could push forward, and an edge Perrin could own.
By late afternoon, the sun had sneaked to the edge of the skyline, painting the city in gold and indigo. Perrin, though tired, felt something like a new skin pressing against him—the skin of a dog who knew his power, and a human who believed in him. Ace’s earlier words still rung in his ears: Boundaries, mastery, purpose.
Walking back with Krypto and his new mentor, Perrin thought about the possible futures. He’d learned a lot in a single day. He’d also learned something deeper about trust—about standing with someone who saw him not as a threat, but as something worth guiding.
“Do you think it’s possible to train the way you described, all of it—, for a long time?” Perrin asked as they reached the apartment door. The question wasn’t just about training; it was about a future with more certainty than Perrin had ever enjoyed.
Krypto smiled, the simple, reliable grin that had become a lifeline for him. “I think it’s not only possible. I think it’s necessary. And with Ace’s framework—focus on the body, the power, and the mind—you’ll have a solid road ahead.”
Ace’s lilting voice chimed from the courtyard, where he woofed before disappearing round a bend. “If you’re in, you’re in. And if you get knocked down, you get back up with a plan. That’s how we keep you from becoming a variable—how you become a force you can control.”
A path was forming, one that could keep him from slipping through the cracks of the city’s noise and fear.
As night thickened and the apartment settled into quiet again, Perrin found himself curled into a clean, strong rhythm beside Krypto. The hum of the city outside no longer sounded like threat or mystery; it sounded like a promise: that tomorrow would bring more clarity, more discipline, and perhaps more of the quiet power that had begun to feel like home.
He drifted toward sleep again with a sense of purpose and a quiet, contained gratitude.
And in the soft, dark room, a single thought lingered, steady as a heartbeat:
I am more than I was yesterday. And I’m learning to be more still, more real, more mine~
