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#1
NOV 05 |
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“Kal-El Superstar”
Metropolis, the City of Tomorrow, was the crown jewel of the East Coast: where glistening glass and metal skyscrapers reached up to the heavens, reflecting the sunlight that shone through the crystal clear sky. Where 11,000,000 residents rest their heads and wake up confident in the knowledge that nothing would harm them today, or the next. This is where Superman, the Man of Steel, calls home.
To the majority of people, Superman was their champion; the one who watched over them and made sure no evil would harm them, fighting for the American Dream. To others, Superman was just another meta-human in the right place at the right time. And, to the minority, Superman was more than their protector…he was their savior; sent from the heavens to lead them to salvation.
Now, to call these people the silent minority would be the farthest from the truth, in fact they were all zealots and very vocal. Fanatics, looking to spread their religion across the nation like a fire.
Three weeks ago, a follower of the Church of Superman (having dropped ‘the One True’ out of the title after the debacle with the false Supermen had passed), had murdered a follower of the revitalized Church of Supergirl over a heated discussion about the true savior of mankind, and now he was being held in the Metropolis Holding Center waiting for an arraignment.
Inspector Daniel Turpin sat with Margaret Sawyer outside of the murderers cell, watching on small monitors through security cameras that overlooked the front of the holding center outside. “These nutjobs just don’t get it, do they?” he asked his partner while taking a sip of coffee out of a white foam cup. The steam rose off of the black liquid and cleared his nasal cavity, allowing him a moment to enjoy the fresh aroma.
“Of course they don’t, they’re fanatics and think we’re wrongfully holding a member of their cult,” Maggie replied, referring to the hundreds of people that congregated to protest outside of the center. “And they’re gonna make sure we know it.”
Daniel shook his head, “Well, they’re giving me bad vibes so they better not try anything ‘cause I’m looking to crack some skulls.”
“Calm down, they’ll give up in about an hour, and all will be quiet again.”
“I’d be happier if they all just jumped into the ocean and became Aquaman’s problem.”
Maggie rolled her eyes and leaned back in her stiff black plastic chair. “Now you’re just dreaming.”
“Hey, I like Big Blue just like the next guy. I think what he does is great. We wouldn’t have solved a lot of cases, or put away as many dirtballs, without his help, but I’m not gonna get on my knees and bow down to the man just because he can fly and bounce bullets off of his chest!” Turpin flicked the lip of his bowler cap, “Now he does have a great head of hair, but even that doesn’t make him god.”
Maggie grinned evilly as her mind was swept away. “Yeah, but that body of his does.”
Dan scoffed and took another sip of coffee. “If he weren’t so super I betcha I could show him a thing or two. I ever tell ya Supergirl said that I look sexy in boxers?”
Raising a red eyebrow, Maggie looked at her partner and laughed. “When was this?”
“Durin’ that whole freak show situation under the city. Supergirl saved my bacon but I lost my pants and she said I was very sexy in my boxers.” A wide grin formed on his face.
Inspector Sawyer ran a hand through her short red hair. “How could I forget? The city was like Hell.”
“Hell, Ms. Sawyer? You haven’t seen what Hell is really like. Hell is going to be Superman’s wrath when he finds out what you’re doing to me,” spoke up a third voice from the cell in front of them.
The two SCU officers looked up from the monitors that were placed on small wooden folding tables and into the cell to see that their prisoner was standing just inside the bars.
“You just mind your own business, okay, wacko? My day is stressful enough just looking after your sorry ass, without your friends outside causing a riot,” Turpin said.
Jonathan Prescott just cocked his head, his brown eyes evaluating the two officers. “You’re just not enlightened, Mr. Turpin, but don’t worry. Your time will come soon enough, and the entire world will see that our beliefs will save this life for all.”
Maggie tapped Turpin on the arm, and pointed to the second monitor. “Look who just showed up.” The screen showed one man slowly lowering from the sky to the ground.
“Wonderful. This can only get better,” he said sarcastically before looking away from the monitor and back to Prescott, who had a grin on his face that only made Daniel want to slap it clean off.
“Brethren! Today we suffer a great injustice!” yelled the man known as Preacher, who stood on a wooden pedestal in front of a sea of men and women wearing blue robes with the symbol of their savior on the chest. They all held up signs of various quotes that mirrored their collective feelings and cheered in unison to Preacher’s speech. “The Metropolis Police wrongfully hold Brother Prescott, who defended the one true religion of our savior against a heretic who follows a false prophet!”
“Our savior stood against the demon Doomsday, the personification of our sin as fallible men! Superman died for those sins, and he rose from the grave to show us the road to salvation lies through him, just like Christ thousands of years ago!” Preacher’s face flushed as he waved a fist in the air, and the crowd yelled out their agreement. “Our savior has returned, and our savior is righteous!”
He stretched out his arms like he were embracing the hundreds of people. “We are strong! We are unified! We are willing to fight for what we believe in and that scares them! They don’t have our devotion, our fire, love and our faith!”
The resulting cheer carried for blocks, causing various people to go to their windows and look outside in fear of a riot. “Remember my last sermon? When I told you that we would be put through a terrible trial that will threaten to break the very foundation of our beliefs? But, if we persevered we would come out of this stronger than we’ve ever been?” Preacher held his arms wide and balled his hands into fist. “These are those times!”
The crowd roared and pumped signs with the ‘S’ symbol into the air. Many objects began to be thrown from the crowd and over the barbed wire fence to splatter or bounce off the holding facility.
Inside, Warden Michael Moriarty prepared his men, all dressed in riot gear with clear Plexiglas shields, to break the crowd up. “Remember, try not to harm any of the citizens out there. We’ll only make the situation worse, but we cannot allow them to continue with this demonstration,” he ordered, then nodded to the guard at the doors, who pushed the button commanding them to swing open.
The sunlight flooded into the lobby and the riot squad marched outside to come under immediate fire from various produce and verbal epithets. But they would never reach the gates, or the crowd for that matter, because of a voice, loud as thunder and just as commanding, ordered them to stop.
The followers of Superman all dropped to their knees as their god appeared before them, dropping from the heavens. “This is not the way! Go home!” he shouted.
Preacher raised his head and looked at his god in disbelief. “They hold a follower of yours wrongfully. We demand only justice, and Brother Prescott to be released.”
Superman disagreed. “He murdered a man…”
“A man who renounced you!” Preacher interrupted.
“I am not a god, nor do I condone killing for any reason. Prescott will get his justice handed to him by the courts of Metropolis.” Superman had legendary patience and was often misunderstood for being weak; in reality, he only tried to bring out the good in humanity he saw every day of his life. It was during times like these, however, that even he found himself wearing thin.
Enraged, one person took it upon herself to show her anger and tossed an apple at the riot squad, but it didn’t even get a foot away from her hand when it exploded into applesauce that rained over her, caused by a small blast of heat vision. “You will not harm these men, and you will no longer bother the residents or workers in this area. Go home and tend to your families, or jobs.”
With a few minutes of hesitation the religious protestors began to break up, but Preacher just stood confused, looking at Superman. “Why do you deny what you are? You’re our savior? Surely you must see?”
Superman shook his head. “I may be many things, but I know that I am not divine. I am just a man doing what is right, and whatever I can for the betterment of this planet.”
Preacher backed away. “You’re wrong…and I’ll prove it to you!” he added, before making his way to his car and driving away.
Warden Moriarty waved the riot squad back inside. “Thank you. You saved us from making things worse, especially if those quacks started getting hurt,” he said, walking up to Superman.
“I was just heading back from Japan when I heard things heating up over the Atlantic.” Superman turned away from the warden and grabbed the side of his cape in his left hand. “If you’ll excuse me, Warden.”
In the blink of an eye and small gust of wind, the Man of Steel was gone.
The warden continued to look at the sky for a few more seconds before shaking his head and walking back inside the holding facility.
Lois Lane shifted the pan back and forth as the eggs sizzled under the intense heat of the stove. She had woken up alone, like most mornings, and while she had expected it, it was something she would never get completely used to. Wearing only a pair of gray shorts and a tank top, she shivered as a current of chilling wind flowed through the kitchen; goose bumps rose on her bare arms and legs.
“Good morning,” Clark Kent said, adjusting his glasses as he walked into the kitchen. He walked up behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her. “Breakfast smells good, honey.”
Lois snuggled into Clark for a moment. “Good morning yourself, Smallville. Who’d you save today?” She wriggled her way out of his arms and flipped the eggs before they burned.
“Just had to run to Japan, there was a train wreck about to happen. The screeching of the brakes woke me up,” Clark said, making his way to the refrigerator. “Want some orange juice?”
Lois looked over her shoulder. “Sure. So did you hear about that demonstration? Looks like your favorite bunch of nutjobs are back in the public.”
“Yes, I heard about it on my way back,” he explained as he poured the citrus juice. “I had to break up the protest in front of the holding center before things got ugly.” He put the orange juice back in the fridge. “I just don’t understand how they think I am a deity. I mean Green Lantern can create anything by willing it, and he’s not God. Firestorm can change the molecular structure of things, Captain Marvel even has the strength and wisdom of gods, and he’s not God!”
Lois slid the eggs onto the plates with the spatula and dropped the pan in the sink. “But none of them have risen from the grave.”
“People in our world come back from the dead all the time, Lois, but that doesn’t make them, or me, the Christ incarnate,” Clark pointed out, knowing all to well that death wasn’t permanent around these parts.
“Fine, I’ll give you that, but there’s one thing you have to realize, Smallville. You’re a role model to normal people and metas alike. You’re a symbol that means as much to the world as the ‘S’ means to you and the others who wear it.”
“None of that still makes me God. I’ve had this discussion before. I know how people think about me as a hero, because I hold myself to that unbelievably high standard and I want to save everybody, but I can’t. No matter how many times I wish I could.” Clark said, taking a bite out of a piece of toast.
“I know that there is a God. An Angel has served in the JLA. I’ve fought the Spirit of His Vengeance, and have dealt with the devil himself,” Clark paused and sighed. “I dunno. Maybe even after all that I just don’t understand it. I was raised on this world, with religion surrounding me, but I’ve spent so much time immersing myself in Kryptonian culture that maybe their lack of belief rubbed off on me.”
Lois reached out and laid her hand over her husband’s. “Clark, not everybody knows you like I do. They can’t know what you think. Even if you told the world, some will believe it, others wouldn’t. People want to believe in something greater than them. You personify their hopes and their dreams. They see hope for a better world for everybody and they believe you can give them that. To most, God’s intangibility causes doubt. You’re very much real, and you inspire people; for better, or worse.”
Leaning back in his chair, Clark remained silent in thought over his wife’s words.
Bibbo’s Bar & Grill
The girl sat alone in the booth, her hands warm from cupping the mug of steaming coffee. She absent-mindedly blew the steam away from her face as her thoughts were circulating on the protest when the Man of Steel had appeared. She had seen pictures and sculptures of him at their church, but never had she ever laid eyes on the real thing. He was glorious, she thought, that chin, that chiseled rock body…oh, and those blue eyes.
“Jessica?” a voice snapped her out of her thoughts before that got any worse. Preacher sat down across from her. “You shouldn’t be drinking coffee with the baby.”
She looked up at the middle-aged man, dressed completely in black with the crest of their lord stitched in the breast of the jacket just above the heart. He was an attractive man with brown hair, green eyes and fair skin. It was one of the reasons she shared her bed with him once, and now carried their child from that one time union…the other reason was how convincing and charming he was.
“I just like the smell of it. I have a water also,” she titled her head slightly in the glass’s direction. “Had to calm down after that protest.”
Preacher leaned on the table and whispered to the twenty-year-old girl. “That’s why I came here to see you. I talked to the Lord our God where our brother is being held, and he denies his role to us. He must be brought to see himself the way we do.”
“I don’t understand,” Jessica said nervously, spinning the mug in her hands. “I mean, what if he’s testing your convictions?”
Stroking his chin, Preacher nodded. “I came to the same conclusion. That’s why we need to go to the church. The others will be there waiting for us.” He stood and held his hand out for the girl. “We must go now.”
Across, on the other side of the bar, three friends sat at a table watching the fanatics get up. “You know,” one of the guys starts. “They remind me of this hilarious joke.”
The other two snickered and looked at their friend. “Superman was flying over the city. It was a gorgeous day. In the distance he can see Wonder Woman lying completely nude, with her legs spread open tanning on the roof of the Hall of Justice. So Superman thinks ‘With my super-speed I can fly down there, nail her, and leave before she even knows I’m there’. So he flies down, screws her, and flies off in less than a second. Wonder Woman sits up and asks ‘What was that?’ and the Invisible Man replies ‘I dunno, but my ass really hurts’.
The other two laugh, and it was clear to them that Preacher heard them because his face flushed red. Jessica grabbed his arm and begged him to forgive it. “Heretics!” he spat before leaving the bar.
“Wow, I haven’t seen a face that red since that hottie in that nightclub back in LA,” the balding one said. “Right before she threw her drink on you!” The other two began laughing hysterically.
The good-looking one, who told the joke, stiffened in his chair. “Yeah, she was pretty hot.”
“The only way you could score with that is if you were invisible!” the third dorky one said.
Shooting his dorky friend an evil eye, the good-looking one milked his ice-tea. That’s when he got a slap on the back. “Don’t take it too hard. If it’s any consolation you and Superman share a thing in common,” the evil p-whipped one said watching his friend perk up. “You both only last a second!” The two burst into laughter once again.
Jessica felt groggy, but the throbbing pain in her head quickly faded as she opened her eyes. She tried to put a hand on her head, but found she couldn’t when she saw the rope tying her hands and feet down as she lay on a table.
“We have been given a test my people! Our Lord, Our Savior! He denied to me who he is!” Jessica could hear Preacher talk, but couldn’t turn her head around to see him and, judging from the murmur, the entire congregation was there also. “Now, we have observed throughout time that Gods require a sacrifice! Even Abraham was prepared to sacrifice his son Isaac to the Lord, and I am prepared to give my only son in that same selfless act to please him!”
“Right now,” Preacher pointed behind him at the pregnant girl. “My son is growing in the womb of our sister Jessica Traydees! She is willing to give her own life for the better of our Church! She has told me this herself, with tears streaming down her face. Tears of joy, my friends, knowing that she would spend eternity in paradise!”
Jessica tried to scream out, but she couldn’t muster enough strength to fight the drugs that flooded her system. She began to see things distorted and the words were dragging through her mind slowly.
Flying over the city on patrol, the Man of Steel opened his hearing, using it like a police scanner to detect key words that would indicate trouble. Kal-El’s mind was at peace up here, high above the city. Of all of the amazing powers he developed under the yellow rays of earth’s sun, flying was easily his favorite.
“…sacrifice his son Isaac to the Lord, and I am prepared to give my only son in that same selfless act to please him!”
Superman stopped and hovered in the sky. “I know that voice. I met him this morning,” he murmured. Cocking his head to get a better bead on where the voice originated, Clark concentrated to filter out everything but that voice.
“Pray for our sister Jessica. Pray for her strength…strength in our convictions that we could only hope to have a quarter of. With this knife…”
“… I commit our final act of obedience!” Preacher yelled with the knife raised above his head, pointed over Jessica’s stomach.
The Church began to quake. Chandeliers and glass chalices shook, and then fell to the ground in a crash. The wall to the south exploded and bits of rock and concrete rained down on the congregation.
Fire erupted from Superman’s eyes and burnt Preacher’s hand, causing him to let go of the knife. Before it could drop an inch, Superman plucked the blade out of the air and crushed the metal like it was foil. “You cannot do this!” he flung the twisted blade away. “Get it through your minds that I am not your God! I bleed! I can die! I have weaknesses and vices!
“I am an American now, I man of this world. I came from the planet Krypton and I have these powers because of the sun! No divinity, nothing!”
Preacher stammered. “You’re lying. You have to be…”
Superman snapped the ropes binding the girl. “I am not lying to you. I am not, nor never was I, God. You want God, go to a real church or mosque.” He helped the girl to her feet and supported her as the drugs made standing on her own impossible. After doing a quick scan he confirmed nothing was done to her otherwise. “I can understand wanting to be apart of something greater, but I am not the path to that. Not like this.”
The crowd began to buzz with talk and a few people even left in anger while others stayed, confused as they watched the Man of Steel on their stage.
“But how do you explain your resurrection? Only the divine can raise from the grave,” Preacher reached out for a glimmer of hope.
Superman picked the girl up and cradled her in his hands. “I can’t fully explain it, but I know it was a one time deal. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get her to a hospital.”
Kal-El hovered off of the stage and flew through the crowd of people that had gathered in front as he carried the drugged girl out of the front doors of the church devoted to him.
Preacher stood in disbelief. Everything he had known to be true was shattered by the one he believed in the most. “Was not what I wanted good enough?” he asked himself. Then his eyes fell upon the crumpled knife that was discarded on the other side of the stage. His eyes widened as a calm washed over him. Rushing over, he grabbed the knife by the handle, and pointed the mangled blade at himself. “It’s my faith you’re testing isn’t it? I’ve been too blind to see it until now…Forgive me…” In his final act upon this earth, Preacher drove the knife into his gut.
He was dead two minutes later.
Metropolis General
“So how is she?” Superman asked a doctor, standing outside of Jessica’s room.
Doctor Ferguson flipped the pages on his clipboard down and quietly shut the door to not disturb the resting girl. “The drugs in her system luckily haven’t interfered with the baby, and they won’t have any long term effects on her. We’ll keep her here for another day of observation then release her to her parents.”
“You managed to contact them?” Clark asked.
“They’re on a plane here from Idaho. Apparently she ran away a few years ago. If you hadn’t brought her here they wouldn’t have had any idea what happened to her,” Ferguson said.
“I’m just glad I could be there for her.”
“Doctor!” another voice interrupted. “We just got a call…there’s about twenty people coming in, all with self-inflicted wounds!” an orderly said as he rushed past the two.
Ferguson dropped the clipboard into the slot next to the door. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Superman quickly stepped aside and let the doctor pass. “What can I do to help?” he asked, easily keeping pace with the doctor.
“You can help the EMTs with carrying the bodies in!” he said, as the doors from the Ambulance drop off opened with the first body.
Superman froze as he saw the male, with his wrists slit, dressed in a blue robe with his ‘S’ crest stitched on his breast above the heart. The Man of Steel swallowed as he recognized the other bodies that came in for the next half hour as those from the church belonging to the Church of Superman.
Lois Lane sat up late that night, the coverage on the late night news left her upset as the on-site reporters showed the building where the fanatics worshipped her husband and the pictures of those that didn’t survive the night at Metropolis General. There were a dozen of them including the Preacher, Andy Gibney, the very blood brother of the man Prescott killed: Robert Gibney.
The bedroom’s sliding glass door slid open, the wind blew the curtains open as Superman stepped through them. Lois sprang off the bed, wrapped her arms around Clark, and rested her head on his shoulder. “I am so sorry,” she said quietly.
“There’s no reason why this had to happen,” Clark said as he hugged his wife; the tears were warm on her shoulder as they fell from his eyes. “I tried and they just wouldn’t listen…” his voice trailed off as he sobbed. The dozen needless deaths, in his name, weighed heavy on him; he had thought he had done what was best for them…he couldn’t have known this was going to happen. Just couldn’t.
Lois stroked the back of Clark’s head trying to soothe him.
They would be locked together like that for the rest of the night.
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The End...
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