Superman

I should be in a panic right now. My heart should be ready to burst through my chest at this very moment, and my breath difficult to inhale. I know in the pit of my stomach that I should wake up right now with sweat in pouring down my forehead. For some reason I don’t, but I Hate Flying!

I know I am flying right now; the white mist of the cloud is impairing my vision, and I know there is nothing but air below me. The cloud is beginning to thin, swirling around me as I make my way through it, and I can see the entire city below me. This is all very familiar to me. Is it because I have had this dream ever since the day I was born? No, it feels deeper than that; natural in a way that I can’t even begin to describe.

I let the thoughts of panic subside, replaced by the sense of excitement over the thrill of this view. Metropolis is laid out before me. I sore high above the highest skyscraper, and this doesn’t worry me. Sure, people dream about flying all time and I sure they enjoy it. But… it is different for me, and I know this for a fact. I don’t know why.

A smile forms on my face, as the wind flows over me like an oceans current. Then a cold realization enters my mind like a bullet… I HATE FLYING! This is where the panic settles in, and I begin to fall towards the city below me like a missile.

Panic! Now, this is more like it. I flail about helplessly, trying to gain altitude, but it fails. My heart is beating in my chest, it’s rhythm thudding like a tympani. God I hate this… But this is me, and I will be waking right about now!

His breaths were short and shallow as he sprang up in the bed. Clark Kent supported himself with his arms as he looked around the room to make sure he was on something solid. Clark ran a hand along his brow to wipe the sweat away. “Those are getting tiresome.” He said while glancing to the space in the bed next to him that has remained empty for years. Clark was beginning to forget what the comfort of a woman felt like. Those dreams were shattered when Lois Lane died, right in front of him, too long ago.

The only thing Clark had going for him was his job reporting for the Daily Planet.

Sighing as he got out of bed, Clark walked to the sliding glass doors of his balcony and pulled them open. He struggled as the door refused to open on the damaged track, and Clark pulled with everything he had to force the door to yield. It did loudly, as it screeched on the dry track. “I really should get that fixed.”

Clark stepped out onto the balcony, and gripped the railing as he looked at the city stretched out in front of him. The dream was dismissed, like it always was as he calmed while watching the nightlife, and the lights of the city. “This is ridiculous.” Clark hissed as he stormed back inside.

The Following Morning

Clark sprinted as hard as he could into the newsroom, checking his watch hectically as he did so. The bus driver was never the nicest person and hardly took Clark running a few minutes late into consideration. A few minutes late then turned into almost twenty-five minutes late as he made it to his desk.

“Twenty-five minutes late?” Clark cursed at himself. “Tockman’s going to throttle me.”

“Tockman’s gonna throttle you, Kent,” Jimmy Olsen said as he looked over the mound of papers and files stacked between their adjoining desks. “Remember what he said last time you ran this late?”

Jimmy was Clark’s partner on most of his assignments and had never failed where Clark had tripped up. Most of Clark Kent’s major journalistic achievements were directly a result of Olsen pulling his fat out of the fire both with his photography and his thesaurus-like brain. Without Jimmy, Clark was half a man at his job.

“As long as I get this stuff in by the deadline I’ll be fine, Jimmy,” Clark panted through his exhaustion as a result of having to run all the way to work. “Tockman’s just the deadline coordinator, not the boss.”

“Speaking of the boss…” Jimmy started as he pointed and sunk back behind the stack of files and papers. Perry White, editor-in-chief of the Daily Planet and Clark’s boss, stomped up to Kent’s desk and flopped down another stack of papers.

“I need these sorted into a decent semblance of order, Kent,” Perry said with his standard gruff voice that gave away the fact that he had smoked too much throughout his life. “Then you take them down to Rayner in layouts so he can place them.”

Clark stared at the papers in disbelief. “But, Mr. White,” he started, “isn’t that what Barb...”

“Gordon called in sick this morning,” White barked. “It’s your job now. You need to have that done by the time you and Olsen need to leave for the airport. Two hours, Kent.”

Clark began to object but knew better than to argue with Perry White. He hung his head in silent frustration for a few moments until Perry left him alone to do his job. He would do someone else’s job for them and he wouldn’t say a word about it. That’s how things worked for Clark Kent.

Before he could get to work, he needed to guzzle down some coffee to wake himself up. He had been running too late in the morning to brew some himself. Pushing himself from the chair, he got up and walked over to the coffee machine. Two of his co-workers chatted nonchalantly as he approached but silenced when he walked up to them. They stood there in uncomfortable silence until they realized that they were blocking Clark’s path to the coffee pot.

Feigning embarrassment, the two moved to the side. Clark moved for a mug and stubbed his big toe on the table leg. Grunting in discomfort, he tried his hardest to not show his obvious pain. The two co-workers looked at him in condescension and laughed to themselves as they watched a hobbling Clark pour some coffee into the mug. Clark avoided eye contact for fear that he would lose his temper and start a fight that he would surely lose.

As he turned back to go to his desk, he saw Jimmy waving a telephone receiver in the air. “Clark!” Jimmy announced too loudly to the room. “Phone call!”

Clark increased his pace, causing the coffee in his mug to slosh around, and splash over the rim onto his hand, burning the skin. It took everything Clark had to not drop the mug, and cause himself further humiliation. “Um, w-who's on the line?” Kent asked as he put the coffee mug down on the familiar ring on the table, and looked for a towel to clean his hand.

“I don’t know he just asked for you. Didn’t even occur to me to ask for his name.” Jimmy handed Clark the receiver, and a tissue before sitting down.

The reporter’s forehead scrunched in thought, as he pinned the receiver between his ear and his shoulder to free up his hands to clean them off. “Hello, this is Clark Kent sp-speaking.”

“I know something you don’t know. You are nothing without him you know. Half the man you used to be.”

“Who is this?”

“Me? You know who I am Clark Kent. You used to know me very well. Too well in fact, but I took measures to beat you now. You are nothing without him.”

Clark dropped the tissue in the wastebasket, and grabbed the receiver. “Nothing without whom? Who’s him?”

“You will find out soon enough Clark.”

“What are you…” the phone clicked, and the dial tone screamed in his ear. “…talking about?” Clark hung the phone up slowly. “That was odd.”

Jimmy looked over from the computer monitor. “We better get cracking on that stack Perry dumped on you. I doubt we’ll make that two hour deadline.” Jimmy Olsen felt sorry for Clark, who became the newspapers whipping boy after Lois Lane died four years ago. She was easily the hardest working person in this place, but her workload along with that of the entire offices got shifted to Clark.

“How come I always get this treatment?” Clark felt comfortable with Jimmy Olsen, and he felt sorry for Jimmy because he was paired with Clark. That meant that Jimmy felt some of the ridicule Clark often received, and he accepted it. “I don’t get it.” Kent said aloud to himself over the thought rolling around in his head. He didn’t realize he spoke until Jimmy replied.

“Me neither pal. You know how people can be jerks. It’s unexplainable.”

“And done!” Clark declared as he closed his final file folder and looked at his watch. “And with twenty minutes to spare!”

“That’s great, Clark,” Jimmy responded with a smile. “Now we’d better get ready to head to the airport. We don’t want to miss the flight.”

As Clark stood up to take the folders to the layout department, Perry White burst from his office door in visible agitation.

“Kent!” he yelled. “I spilled my stupid coffee and I need you to head to the janitor’s closet and get the Shop-Vac, pronto!” His trousers were wet, as if he had lost bladder control, gaining the stifled laughter of several of his employees.

Clark set the files down and wordlessly headed for the janitor’s closet. He could not remember a time when the Daily Planet actually employed a full-time janitor so he often wondered over the significance of the closet.

He opened the door and looked for the Shop-Vac. As he peered around, he noticed the window. He had never noticed the window before and upon close investigation, he discovered that it could be opened. It was like a window that one would find in an old farmhouse, not a window that adorns the eighty-third floor of a metropolitan skyscraper.

He stared out the window and looked at the city below him. Whenever he put any thought to the city around him, he always felt helpless. He realized his insignificance. Millions of people all around him and he was no more important than the guy that does the layouts downstairs, or the guy that sells hot dogs down the street.

He stood at the window for a moment and thought of how easily he could jump from it. How he could slide out of the window and fly into the night sky, overcoming the oppression of his job, of his co-workers, of his entire life. He had never flied before. He had never tried. But who was to say that if he jumped from the small window in the janitor’s closet that he would not break the laws of gravity and soar through the sky like a speeding bullet?

Clark Kent would never know the real answer. He would never be able to find the courage to try.

“Can’t this cab go any faster?” Jimmy Olsen asked as he glanced at his watch, knowing that the chances of them catching their plane were slim. “Perry is going to have our jobs.”

Kent’s knuckles were white, as he gripped the handle on the door terrified over this cab driver’s driving. “H-how, when he’s partially responsible for us being late?” Clark grabbed his briefcase, clutching it tighter against his chest.

“Try telling the boss that.” Jimmy rolled his eyes at Clark’s naivety, when Jimmy actually found it one of Clark’s better personality traits. He’s always looking for the best in others. Especially in those non-redeemable. Lois liked that about him too. I don’t know why they couldn’t get it to work; maybe Lois just couldn’t see herself with someone so timid.

The cab split off the road to the airport-departing lane that circled around the Metropolis Airport. “I hope you travel light,” Clark said as he observed he line at the outside check in for their airlines. “Luggage check-in is backed up.”

Jimmy looked over the cab drivers shoulder, and pointed. “You can pull over here.”

The cab driver nodded, the cab slipped into an open space next to the curb, and the two passengers got out. “Pay the man Clark. Perry will reimburse you.”

Clark reached for his wallet. “Why do I need to pay?” he asked as he reached through the window to hand the driver his fee.

“Because I exceeded my limit two months ago. Perry won’t let me buy anything, and charge it to the company anymore,” Jimmy grabbed his duffle bag. “Come on we better hurry, here’s your bag…”

Clark took the bag that felt heavy in his grasp, and they began to run down the sidewalk to the baggage check in, Jimmy quickly put distance between them as Clark struggled to keep up. Lucky for the both of them, they only brought enough to carry on as they were told. It took them a few minutes to make it to the checkpoint. Clark looked at those in front of him, and many made him wonder if they’d ever get through with how unconcerned the people were with speed and promptness.

“Are we going to make it?” Kent asked.

Jimmy looked at his watch. “I don’t know we have about seven minutes.”

Clark dug through his pockets getting ready, even though fifteen people separated him from the x-ray machine. Clark hated x-rays, he was always scared that they give him some odd tumor, or poisoning. It didn’t matter how safe people claimed these machines to be.

“It’ll probably take us that long just to get through this. G-got your press pass?” Clark Kent, the farm town boy from Smallville born to two loving parents Jonathan and Martha, hardly stuttered around Jimmy whom he felt comfortable around. His parent’s were the only other people that made him feel that secure.

Minutes later, five minutes to be exact, Clark Kent and Jimmy Olsen, were sprinting once again, this time through the terminal, which drew many stares from passing airport security. Jimmy watched the gate signs, and they were now only three gates away, and through the large paned windows that overlooked the runway, they could see their plane… pulling away from the tunnel.

Jimmy slowed down, and Clark quickly caught up to the stationary photographer.

Clark dropped his bag as he watched the plane moving away… “Oh this is just wonderful.” He mumbled, and slowly stalked to the window as the plane made its run on the tarmac, and pointed upwards at a forty-five degree angle… and effortlessly left the ground for the friendly skies. “We might as well not even go back to the Planet. Perry will make sure we won’t be there long anyway.”

Olsen looked up, and watched the plane become a dot in the sky. “Yeah, you’re probably right…” then the dot grew a red/orange/yellow smaller dot, and black smoke rose from it. “Clark look!”

Not that Jimmy had to tell Clark, because he was already watching, as another explosion, on the same wing, shook the now tiny plane…

Clark squinted into the sky through the terminal window, cursing the fact that he had put off renewing his lens prescription the previous week. He saw the vague form of the smoking plane tilt dramatically to the right as it began to go into a spin. Without the right side engines, the plane would most likely spiral out of control until it flew apart or crashed into the ground.

Clark and Jimmy were pressed against the terminal window as they watched on, others joining in to witness the horrible spectacle. Clark could only think of how close he had been to being on that flight and how, for once, he was lucky to be a bumbling fool, slow at his job and perpetually late for everything. It was only after he considered his own well-being that his reporter’s instinct set in.

“Jimmy, take some pictures!” he demanded as Jimmy stood nearby staring at the scene in terror. Jimmy shook his head as if waking from hypnosis as he slowly brought his camera to his eye and started snapping pictures through the window. The plane was pretty far away, most of the pictures would never turn out.

Clark turned back to the plane just as something remarkable began to happen. The plane had leveled off and was returning in the direction of the airport. Many of the onlookers jumped to the conclusion that the plane was on its way to crash directly into them while some were too frightened to move.

After squinting with intense concentration, Clark saw what was happening. He gasped in awe as he saw the flying man beneath the right wing of the plane, holding its weight above his head, helping the plane to a safe landing.

“What’s going on?” Jimmy asked as he saw the plane move closer. “How’s it doing that?”

Clark looked at Jimmy distractedly before turning back to the spectacle. He was amazed to see that the plane was still thousands of yards away. How had he seen the man under the wing? He wondered if he had hallucinated it until the descending plane came closer into view and his vision had proven correct. There was indeed a flying man that had saved the plane and landed it without further harm.

“Superman…” Clark muttered to himself. Something was eerily familiar with the name and the garments of the savior as the costumed man strode from beneath the landed plane and soared in a flash into the sky.

“What?” Jimmy asked. “Who was that guy?”

Clark suddenly felt faint as his mind throbbed to grasp what was going on. “I don’t know, Jimmy,” he said as he took of his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose. “But we need to find out.”

By Clark Kent

METROPOLIS - Is there a new Metropolis Marvel in town? That question was on the forefront of everybody's mind yesterday as a man, bearing the famous 'S' crest of the Last Daughter of Krypton: Supergirl, came from the sky like an Angel to rescue American Airlines Flight 853 yesterday afternoon, after two of the jets exploded shortly after take off.
        Photographer Jimmy Olsen, and I were supposed to be on that potentially doomed flight, but work, and slow lines delayed us long enough for the flight to depart the airport without us. We stood exasperated at the gate watching the plane become a dot in the sky, wondering if we both would have a job the next day. Then two small fireballs exploded on the right wing, sending a cloud of smoke into the sky.
        We were watching with some certainty the plane's final moments. A wave of fear, and admittedly with some guilt, and relief washed over me as I watched this horror. The plane titled to it's right, now having lost all support on that side, and it was visibly loosing attitude as quickly as it had it gained.
        I thought for a moment that my vision blurred, did I just see the plane level itself? Now this world has its unbelievable heroes, but after the return of Supergirl from the dead, caused by the hand of the creature Doomsday in downtown Metropolis, there hasn't been a hero housed in the City of Tomorrow in eight years, when she abandoned her role here for a full-time spot with the superhero group 'Justice League of America'.
        So who was here saving the plane right now?
        None of us can speculate the changes Supergirl went through upon her resurrection, or her new darker attitude. We just wished she would return. When the plane had turned around, and drew closer to the airport, it was clear to all of us with the naked eye, that there was somebody under the wing holding it up. By this time, there was a large group of people surrounding Jim and I, nearly pushing us against the glass.
        Then there came a shout. “There, under the right wing!" By now we could see the familiar blue body suit, and red flapping cape. Has Supergirl finally returned? “Look at the hair!” It was jet black, a contrast to the golden locks of our beloved hero. Then the plane was close enough to see that a man, wearing a very similar costume to the one I recognized. But who was this new man? Why was he here now in Metropolis to save this ill-fated flight? Why was he wearing Supergirl's costume?

        The plane had safely touched down; all the other planes were cleared to a safe area. This man walked out from under the wing, and we could see the black scorched jets, and the blackened wing. There was an odd sense of confidence, and compassion from his smile as he waved to the faces pressed against the small airplane windows.
        A new hero had just made a stunning debut, and their excitement over participating in his appearance erased the fear they must have all felt. I must admit, that I too felt a rush of energy run through me… I had to find out who this guy is, but before I could take one step through the crowd in the terminal he had flown off back into the sky from where he came.
        I managed to catch up the pilot of AA Flight 853 Mike Maillaro, who had this to say when I asked him to describe the events:
        “Take off went as smooth, and as routine as any other day. We were still in a climb to reach thirty-five thousand feet when Engine One's light went red, and we felt the explosion shake us in our seats. Not even three seconds later Engine Two's light went red, and again the explosion shook us.”
        “My heart skipped about four beats as I started to yell in my headset back to the Tower, informing them of our situation, and asking for advice. We were quickly loosing altitude, and fighting for control of the plane was near impossible, when all of a sudden we leveled off. I checked the engine lights, and they were still red. My co-pilot Chris [Delloianoco] and I were at a loss.”
        “Then the tower radioed us, apparently [Timothy] Grubbs could see a man under the wing, which stabilized us, through his binoculars. We were instructed to guide the plane back down, hoping the person would know to take his cues from us, and aide us down. We landed softer than a feather falling on a pillow.”
        “I just wish I had a moment to thank the gentleman, but he took off before I got out of the cockpit.”
        American Airlines reports faulty fuel intakes for the reason behind the two explosions. More will be released in a detailed report in two days.
        Before this mysterious man left we all could tell, we knew, we all could feel it like the rays of the sun pounding on our skin; his body language radiated his confidence, his strength, and his good nature. On that day Metropolis finally had a hero. Who was this mysterious man? He was amazing; he was spectacular; he was super… He was a Superman.

See Superman on A4

The End...

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