Superman

Well I am not surprised… again I find myself high above the city, only seconds away from falling in a panic towards the ground. Here it comes, and here I go? Something is wrong, different than the last. Instead of flailing about like a chicken trying to fly, I am still cutting through the clouds.

Never in my years have I gotten this far into my re-occurring dream. The lights do look beautiful in the dark, as cars drive along, streetlights, traffic signals, and late night business meetings and projects lighting up the tallest buildings. It looks almost surreal, and in way too much detail since I haven’t once been flying over Metropolis. Of this I am absolutely sure… reasonably.

I feel a sense of calm, as if I have done this thousand’s of times at my leisure.

I turn my body, somehow knowing to steer myself, and I draw closer to a glass skyscraper. At first I am too far away to make anything out, but the clouds move past the moon, and the light is shining off of it from behind me. I can see a man, wearing some strange blue uniform, and I focus on it with curiosity.

Am I supposed to know this man?

I feel an attraction towards the image like a magnet pulling metal fragments, and I still move closer to the point where I can see some red and yellow symbol on the chest… I keep my attention on the symbol, as the face is too blurry to make out any detail, but somehow the symbol sticks out sharper than anything I have ever seen.

The edges are crisp, and the colors are radiant. A red lined diamond, flooded with yellow inside of the red, and there is an ‘S’ that is one with the red outline separating the sea of yellow. I stop, and somehow hover in front of the glass noticing only the ‘S’ symbol, as the rest of the world seems to fall away from me.

I study it, yet I know what it means. At least I think I do. Then I gasp as the symbol, well half of it at least, changes the yellow disappears replaced instantly by black, and the red remains only to look like it’s melting… but I know it’s not. It’s blood!

Clark flung the blankets off, but he remained in his bed knowing that pacing around his bedroom would prove futile in calming his jittery nerves. Clark swallowed, feeling an uncomfortable warmth rub against his throat making it instantly sore. “Oh damn.” The tired reporter swore as he went to reach for the box of Kleenex he had next to the bed. Pulling a few tissues out, he pressed them against his nose to stop the flow of blood exiting the open nostrils. “Well this is just swell…”

Hovering over the great city of Metropolis, as if he were standing on an invisible platform, the being wearing the blue costume, and the red flapping cape folded the paper in his hands after reading the front page article dedicated to him. Superman, huh? thought the Kryptonian. I can live with that name. Looking at the author’s name again, the person now calling himself Superman, felt an odd sensation like he had seen the name before when in fact he only arrived on this planet weeks before. Clark Kent… I would like to talk to him.

Holding the paper up to face level, his eyes turned red causing the paper to combust into a ball of fire. Superman held onto the paper as the fire consumed it, and he watched the fire dance around his invulnerable fingers until nothing but ash remained to blow away in the currents of the upper atmosphere.

“So then Bibbo just threw the guy out the window like it was nothin’,” the bartender said. “We told him twice he can’t bring his monkey in here but the moron wouldn’t listen.”

Jimmy laughed on his barstool as he grasped his half full pint for another drink. Clark Kent sat unenthusiastically sipping on the straw that led to his cherry coke. The bartender’s anecdote had failed to cheer Clark out of his funk.

“What’s up, Kent?” the bartender asked with mild concern. “You look all depressed and stuff. Talk to us about it. We’ll solve all your problems, lickety-split!”

“I’m not depressed, Mickey,” Clark replied somberly. “More weirded out than anything. I’ve got this terrible felling.”

“You been sniffin’ the powder, Kent?” Mickey the bartender asked. “Sounds like you’re paranoid of somethin’. The fuzz tappin’ your phone? The green men stealin’ your dreams?”

Clark looked up as if a connection had been made in his thought process. “Maybe, Mickey. I don’t know.”

Jimmy patted Clark on the back as he sat next to him. “Clark hasn’t been the same since that Superman busted onto the scene yesterday. Now he’s all kooked out and stares off all the time. He barely even raked any props for his front page story.”

“I haven’t been sleeping too well recently,” Clark admitted as he took a drink. “Been having bad dreams.”

“Ah!” Mickey proclaimed. “I have just the remedy for an overactive sleep!” He took out an assortment of bottles and poured a bit of everything onto one small glass. When he was done, he slid it down the bar, where it spun a few times and came to rest perfectly in front of Clark.

“I call it the ‘Mickey Plick Special’,” Mickey smiled. “One of those and your head’ll be so heavy it won’t even think to give you a bad dream!”

“You know I don’t drink, Mickey,” Clark said as he pushed the glass away. “I’ll just have to get over it myself the right way.”

Mickey Plick sat down on the other side of the otherwise empty bar, wanting to help his friend if he could. “You in some kind of trouble, Clark?” he asked. He rarely ever called him by his first name. “What kind of dreams have you been having?”

“It’s silly, but I think I’ve been dreaming about Superman,” Clark confessed. “For the last few weeks, I think I’ve been dreaming that I’m Superman.”

Mickey and Jimmy unintentionally laughed at Clark as he told them. “You are crazy, Kent,” Jimmy said. “Superman just showed up yesterday. How can you dream about him last week?”

“That’s what’s so strange,” Clark said, ignoring their accidental laughter. “I just disregarded the bad dreams as bad dreams until yesterday. Until I saw Superman.”

“Well, I know you’re not Superman,” Jimmy said with full conviction.

As the conversation died down and Jimmy and Clark returned to their drinks, the sound of rending metal and shattering glass disrupted the silence. As the two friends and the bartender turned in surprise, they saw an unexpected visitor. Superman stood in the doorway with the doorknob in his hand, the door still connected to it. He had ripped the door from its hinges.

With a smile as brilliantly white as the first winter’s snow, Superman spoke to a human for the first time.

“I wish to speak to Clark Kent,” he said.

Clark swallowed hard as he looked at the man who held the door effortlessly in his hand. “I-I am Cl-Clark,” his stuttering increased to the point where he couldn’t string together a complete sentence; overcome by feelings of panic.

Fortunately Jimmy Olsen wasn’t bound by the same inflictions. “What do you want with Clark?” Jimmy stood in front of Clark as if he needed to protect him; it was then Jimmy wondered how good he would be against a person who single handedly carried a plane down to the ground.

“He was the one who wrote that article about me. I want him to write another one about me to tell the whole planet, of you genetic inferiors, who I am and that I am here to save you all,” Superman grinned again. “Isn’t that the normal routine on this planet?”

“Well that’s all good and dandy, but who’s going to fix the door your holding in your hand?” Mickey Plick asked as he stepped around out from behind the bar. “Doors aren’t cheap, ya know, amongst us ‘genetic inferiors’.”

“Oh!” Superman exclaimed as if struck by a thought of genius, and he turned to put the door back into the place from where he pulled it. His eyes turned a bright red, and the metal hinges of the door began to melt into metal hinges of the frame, until they were successfully welded to each other, now permanently shutting the door.

Clark gasped.

“There, your door is fixed!” Superman said with enthusiastic energy. “Now, Clark, about us talking,” Superman walked over, and nudged Jimmy out of the way, which actually sent him flying into an open booth where he fortunately landed on a soft seat. “There’s so much I need to go over with you.”

“J-J-Jimmy?” asked Clark as he brushed passed Superman to Jimmy’s side.

Moaning, Jimmy rolled over, and mumbled something completely incoherent. For some reason Clark felt an odd feeling that he hadn’t felt in years, courage. Kent stood, and with steel in his voice he reprimanded the Man of Steel. “That wasn’t very nice of you. You could have hurt him!”

Superman started to laugh, but stopped in a moment of hesitation as a sensation of nausea washed over him, but it faded quicker that it came and Superman shrugged it off. “Nonsense. I can hardly help it if you human’s are weaker. I will learn to be gentler in time. Now, let us go to talk, friend.” Superman extended his hand as he approached Clark, and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. He smiled another smile that was whiter than even the brightest white he had seen.

Mickey objected. “Now just wait a God damned minute! You don’t come walking into my bar and start assaulting my clientele. That’s completely bad for business, but when you attack my friends you incur a wrath I doubt you can stand,” the bartender yelled. “BIBBO!”

Before Superman could turn, and hand slapped onto his shoulder. “Yo Sooperman. It’s time you’s left!” Bibbo pulled Clark from Superman’s lax grasp, then slapped another hand on his shoulder. “An’ since the door is broken, it looks like you’s gonna git tossed out the window!”

“Great Caesar’s Ghost, Bibbo, you’re always tossing people out of the window. Even when the door worked.” Mickey muttered.

Superman looked at the hands on him as if he were just touched by a leper. “What is the meaning of this?”

“It’s called bein’ put in yer place.” Bibbo pulled Superman with all of his strength, and failed to move him even a millimeter from his standing pose.

“Oh, very well then,” Superman raised a hand like he was giving somebody the ‘okay’ sign, but instead his recoiled finger sprung out and clipped Bibbo on the forehead, sending the larger man to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Looking down at Clark, Superman lowered his hand down. “Shall we go?”

For the second time in his life Clark Kent felt like he had a backbone, and stood in the blink of an eye. “I shall not! When you’ve learned some manners, then you come talk to me, but until then you leave me the hell alone!”

Superman fought the dizziness in his head, and focused on the human. “Wrong. Come with me now,” Superman reached a hand out and grabbed Clark’s arm, but found himself unable to pull him. Exasperated Superman let go, and backed away. “Very well, you’re correct of course. I shall return to you when you’re ready. Call my name, I shall hear you.”

Superman walked to the door, and pulled if from it’s welded hinges, and he dropped the door to the ground as he flew off into the sky.

“Christ, Kent!” Mickey Plick screamed out as he ran over to Clark. “You really showed that son of a bitch. What got into you?”

The reporter shook his head as if he were waking from one of his many dreams, and helped Jimmy back to his feet. “I-I don’t know Mickey, but I think I sure could use a shot of your strongest stuff.”

Mickey smiled, glad that Bibbo was just knocked out, and over Clark’s response. “Are you sure you’re ready for it?”

Clark nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You got it, one shot of whole chocolate milk coming up!” Mickey walked around the bar, and minutes later produced three shot glasses full of the brown milk. Mickey raised his shot glass, as Clark and Jimmy, who was still slightly shaking, did the same. “This is to Clark Kent, who just showed the big blue who’s the real boss.”

They threw back the shots as one, and lowered the glasses down onto the wooden counter top in a triple clacking noise.

“So Kent really stood up to Superman? I haven’t seen him stand up to anybody before, not even Rayner, and he’s a pussy.” Jimmy asked.

Mickey smiled. “It was amazing, I really thought for a second that Superman was going to pop Kent’s head like a balloon!”

Clark’s face went beet red with embarrassment and joy. This was something he could get used to.

“You did what?!” Perry White screamed at the top of his lungs. The noise could be heard through the thin glass windows of his office throughout the entire floor of the building. His temper was always hot and set to erupt at any given moment and the current situation seemed to do the trick.

“Well, Mr. White, Superman came up to me and..” Clark started but was forced back to silence by Perry’s continued raving.

“I heard you, Kent,” he continued at a yell. “And I’ll tell you right now, and I’ll make this completely clear. You go back and you get this interview with Superman or you don’t bother to come in to work tomorrow, if ‘work’ is what you want to call what you do around here.

“I can’t believe I hired someone that could sit around doing jack squat in a bar and tell Superman, the brand new number one, only story in town worth telling to go take a hike because he broke a door and roughed up a bouncer. Are you a freakin’ reporter anymore, Kent?”

Clark was unusually aggravated by Perry’s harsh words. “I am, Mr. White,” he said as he gripped the arm of the chair he was sitting in. “It’s just that..”

“Shush!” Perry yelled. “I don’t want to hear any excuses anymore. I don’t care if that big blue bastard rips off Jimmy’s head and takes a radioactive poop down his neck, you’ll get the interview and take the pictures yourself!”

Jimmy’s jaw dropped in amazement as he took Perry’s suggestions as a personal attack. He turned to Clark and saw a most improbable expression on Kent’s face. It was expression that Jimmy had never seen. The muscles in Clark’s jaw were twitching as the teeth inside of his mouth grinded with barely tolerable frustration. Clark’s left eyelid trembled as he looked narrowly at his boss.

“That was uncalled for, Perry,” Clark said without faltering, standing up to his boss as easily as he had stood up to Superman. “No need to bring Jimmy into this.”

“Whatever, Kent,” Perry said, his volume still beyond control. “Just get off your ass and back out there and get the damn interview.”

Clark stood up with startling speed that caused Perry White to unintentionally flinch. “I’ll get your damn interview, Perry,” Clark said as he realized he still held onto the arm of the chair, although it had been disconnected from the chair itself. “You’ll get your damn interview and then we’ll see if I bother to come in to work tomorrow, if work is what I call it.”

Clark tossed the broken arm onto Perry’s desk and stomped out angrily, slamming the door behind him. There was an accompanying crash as the glass of the door shattered. The Venetian blinds clambered to the floor to join its fallen window while Perry watched in awe. He turned to Jimmy with a smile on his face.

“I guess the little boy scout’s finally growing back some balls, Jim,” Perry said. “I always thought that if I kept on him and gave him that little extra push that someday he’d finally get over Lois-“

Jimmy rose from his chair and left through the window of the unopened door, sharing a brief frown of dissatisfaction with his long time superior. “Up yours, Perry,” Jimmy said as he left to join his friend and partner to embark upon the story of the century.

Clark Kent was outright angry. He was so used to subduing his emotions in favor of apathy and submission that his current state of anger filled him with adrenaline. His instincts were buzzing around him, he felt as though he knew what was happening everywhere within the building. He knew his fellow office workers were talking about his cacophonous dealings with the Editor-in-Chief and he could almost hear them all sharing whispers.

He strode over to his desk, stubbing his toe on the same cubicle wall that always seemed out to get him, but this time, it didn’t hurt. Smiling over his minor victory over both the cubicle and Perry White, Clark Kent sat at his desk and thought about what he was going to ask Superman.

Jimmy quietly took his seat across from Clark and watched Clark think. “You okay, Clark?” he asked. “Perry really tried to lay it on you.”

Clark smiled to Jimmy a smile that had long been missing from his range of facial expressions. “You know what, Jimmy? I don’t think I’ve been this okay in a long time.”

He stood up with renewed confidence and grabbed his small hand held tape recorder for his upcoming interview. “Grab your camera, Jimmy,” Clark said. “It’s time for the interview of the century.”

Jimmy followed Clark to the door of the janitor’s closet with camera in hand. “How do we get in touch with him, Clark? We don’t have his phone number even if he bothers to have such inferior human technology such as telephones.”

“You heard the man back at Mickey Plick’s,” Clark said as he entered the janitor’s closet. “Just say the name and he’ll hear me.”

“Actually I didn’t hear that part,” Jimmy said scratching his head. “I was knocked half loopy at the time. But why are we in the janitor’s closet?”

Clark smiled as he went up to the window and opened it. “This window means something,” he said. “We’ll use it to get Superman over here.”

Clark stood at the open window, breathing the air of Metropolis deep into his lungs. After a moment of relishing the refreshing breeze, Clark spoke Superman’s name. Within seconds, as if Superman had been waiting nearby for Clark to call, Superman was there, bobbing in the air outside the window.

“I see you have come to your senses regarding our conversation,” Superman said. “Now let us go.”

Superman extended his hand to Clark. “Take my hand and I will fly us to a secluded locale where our conversation will not be interrupted.”

Clark stood there unmoving. “No. You come in here. Our facility is perfectly suited for this interview.”

“I would be more comfortable unconfined by human architecture,” Superman responded, hand still extended. “Let us travel elsewhere.”

“No. Come inside and experience a little human culture while we’re at it. You’ll have to learn to live here eventually.”

“I do not wish to be inside right now.”

“And I have no intention of climbing out of this window to fly who knows where with a floating man in blue tights.”

“Understood,” Superman said. “Meet you on the roof?”

“Sounds fine,” Clark responded. “I’ll be there when I get there.”

Superman flew straight up to the roof while Clark smiled to himself and closed the window. Jimmy was aghast in disbelief. Clark was noticeably different somehow. Was his posture improving? His shoulder span now seemed wider somehow.

“Wow,” was all Jimmy could say as Clark took his time getting to the roof. Clark knew that Superman would wait for him. In more ways than Clark realized, Superman needed this interview more than Clark himself did.

DAILY PLANET EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW!

"Metropolis has gone too long without a protector…"

"There isn't a single person on this planet that can oppose peace, for they will lose..."

By Clark Kent

METROPOLIS - “My name is Kal-El; I am here to fight for truth, justice, and the American Way. Somewhat improbable sounding, granted the majority of this worlds view toward this country, but I intended to, and will, change that,” Superman said to me as we talked on top of the Daily Planet.
        “I've studied this planet thoroughly for two weeks, and found the abundance of, who you call, metahumans rather surprising. My planet Krypton was rather dull in that regard, but we made up for that with Science, our religion. We were probably the greatest scientists produced in the universe.”
        “Until our planet died decades ago. Miraculous enough, there were survivors that lived in an asteroid that was once a part of the planet. I won't bore you with the details that you learned from my cousin Supergirl, but even our asteroid community, Argo City, was dying. So I left there, and came here to live with my remaining family.”
        It must have been his relationship, and similarities to the Maid of Might that made being around him feel oddly familiar to me and comfortable, considering this man could perform incredible feats beyond that of mortal men without batting an eyelash.
        I could feel his confidence, his charm, even his smile radiate warmth upon my skin like the suns rays, and it filled me with much of the same characteristics. His presence in Metropolis changed me, and inspired me. I had to know more.
        Why Metropolis I thought, what about this unremarkable city attracted this man here?
        “It was the home of my cousin. It was her legacy that pulled me to Metropolis, and she gave her life to protect it. When she left Metropolis after her resurrection, there was a void. I felt it my duty to take over her role, and elevate myself to her level of excellence.”
        “Metropolis has gone too long without a protector. The city will know the feeling of safety once again. I will be the one to provide that feeling.”
        I doubt any one man could have argued otherwise with that statement, or his reassuring presence that he meant every word of what he said. So I asked him to describe what 'Superman' is as a person, and as an ideal.

        “That's a difficult question Clark, ideals and philosophy have been argued for centuries before this planet cooled. But, if I had to say something about what Superman is, it would be this; an unrelenting protector who strives to look for the best in every person. There isn't a single person on this planet that can oppose peace, for they will lose. If you face me, you will lose.”
        “As far as who Superman is, then he's confident, and he would never back down, negotiate, or side with the forces of evil. Superman would guard your back, and make sure nothing would harm you.”
        “Being Superman shouldn't be looked at like it is a chore. It is a privilege to bear the name Superman and protect this city, as I hope you feel that it's a privilege to have me watching over you. Not everybody can benefit from me as I would like, but I chose Metropolis, and nobody will survive harming her.”
        'Nobody would survive harming her', those words sent a chill down my spine. If you could have seen those eyes then you would have known how serious he was. Wasn't that a little harsh?
        “These aren't easy times Clark, and often times come where you have to make a decision about him, or you, or the citizens of Metropolis. When they take the lives of innocents, they automatically give up the right for a life of their own.”
        “But, our survival doesn't mean their death, it could mean reform, which means the old way of life wouldn't survive, meaning they wouldn't survive… in one fashion or another.”
        I found myself agreeing with Superman. While I am sure Supergirl tried many times to find a way around killing Doomsday, she couldn't and had to stop the killing machine for the final time. Life didn't make any easy choices. I know Superman will make the right ones.
        We were done soon after some personal chatter, when he actually asked me a few questions. I couldn't shake the feeling that he already knew the answers before I thought them.
        Then, he was gone leaving me alone on the rooftop with Jimmy watching as he went from a dot to nothing in the sky, and I imagined what a sight Metropolis must be to him as he freely flew above the tallest skyscraper.
        Metropolis finally regained a fighter for peace, a protector… a Superman.

See Superman on A2

To Be Continued...

Next Issue: "Who is Lois Lane?". Well besides dead? Find out as Clark reviews his life in light of his interview with Superman, that and more in Part Three of Altered Ego!

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