Realworlds: Superman - An alternate ending
by Lord Torgamous
November 3, 2002
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Legal Stuff
This is a work of fiction. All characters are copyright/trademarks of their respective companies. I wrote this here story. Remember the 8th Commandment!
---
Eddie knew he was going to die. He remembered the padre's Sunday sermons. "It is appointed unto men once to die." He remembered standing over his mother's grave as a child, and how it felt years later at his father's. But Eddie Dial was living. After what seemed like a lifetime in prison, Eddie was free. As he walked through the gate, he inhaled his first breath as a free man. Through the clarity of his newly found freedom, he had a chance to think of all the things that led him here: The girls who teased him. The boss who fired him. The anger... the frustration... and most of all, that damn tattoo. He can still remember the day he got it. Well, he could remember the day after, anyway. The irony was obvious. He remembered getting so drunk that he couldn't remember anything else. And he remebered waking up, and looking in the mirror, and seeing it - the mark of Superman. Until today, the shield emblazoned on his chest had been a stumbling block. It had earned him scorn, and cost him his job. But today was different.
While in prison, Eddie began working out. He built up his strength. He realized he could never be as strong as the real Superman. Those words always made him laugh. "The Real Superman." As real as a four-color cartoon can be, anyway.
While Eddie reveled in his freedom, he knew he had to be careful. The day before his release, he had heard rumblings from some of the other prisoners. Someone was looking for Eddie. No one knew what this someone wanted, but anyone could tell that it was not for a social call.
The first thing Eddie decided to do was to get a drink. It had been years since he had a beer, and so he planned to slowly enjoy this one. While he sat at the bar, he heard a bit of commotion. He looked around to see that people were quickly making a retreat. Before he could survey to total situation, he saw the cause. A man, dressed in an odd golden armor stood before him. The man spoke. "I am looking for Superman."
Eddie felt his heart nearly beat out of his chest. He was barely able to choke out, "That's me."
The armored man sneered. "You are most assuredly NOT the Superman I seek." Eddie was a complete wreck. His fear caused him to make the mistake that would be his last - he opened his shirt.
When the mystery man saw the tatoo, he grew infuriated. "I see. You bear the mark of the enemy. So shall you share his fate. So speaks GOG!"
With a swoop, Gog lifted his staff and aimed it at Eddie's chest. Eddie could feel the beam pierce his chest and tried to scream, but he couldn't. After the pain stopped, Eddie realized he was no longer in the bar. He looked around trying to surmise where he was. He was shocked to see a skeleton, in circus garb no less, floating towards him. "Hi there. The name's Boston." The dead man looked down and noticed Eddie's chest. "Nice tattoo," he remarked, "I'll bet that one cost you."
by Lord Torgamous
November 3, 2002
---
Legal Stuff
This is a work of fiction. All characters are copyright/trademarks of their respective companies. I wrote this here story. Remember the 8th Commandment!
---
Eddie knew he was going to die. He remembered the padre's Sunday sermons. "It is appointed unto men once to die." He remembered standing over his mother's grave as a child, and how it felt years later at his father's. But Eddie Dial was living. After what seemed like a lifetime in prison, Eddie was free. As he walked through the gate, he inhaled his first breath as a free man. Through the clarity of his newly found freedom, he had a chance to think of all the things that led him here: The girls who teased him. The boss who fired him. The anger... the frustration... and most of all, that damn tattoo. He can still remember the day he got it. Well, he could remember the day after, anyway. The irony was obvious. He remembered getting so drunk that he couldn't remember anything else. And he remebered waking up, and looking in the mirror, and seeing it - the mark of Superman. Until today, the shield emblazoned on his chest had been a stumbling block. It had earned him scorn, and cost him his job. But today was different.
While in prison, Eddie began working out. He built up his strength. He realized he could never be as strong as the real Superman. Those words always made him laugh. "The Real Superman." As real as a four-color cartoon can be, anyway.
While Eddie reveled in his freedom, he knew he had to be careful. The day before his release, he had heard rumblings from some of the other prisoners. Someone was looking for Eddie. No one knew what this someone wanted, but anyone could tell that it was not for a social call.
The first thing Eddie decided to do was to get a drink. It had been years since he had a beer, and so he planned to slowly enjoy this one. While he sat at the bar, he heard a bit of commotion. He looked around to see that people were quickly making a retreat. Before he could survey to total situation, he saw the cause. A man, dressed in an odd golden armor stood before him. The man spoke. "I am looking for Superman."
Eddie felt his heart nearly beat out of his chest. He was barely able to choke out, "That's me."
The armored man sneered. "You are most assuredly NOT the Superman I seek." Eddie was a complete wreck. His fear caused him to make the mistake that would be his last - he opened his shirt.
When the mystery man saw the tatoo, he grew infuriated. "I see. You bear the mark of the enemy. So shall you share his fate. So speaks GOG!"
With a swoop, Gog lifted his staff and aimed it at Eddie's chest. Eddie could feel the beam pierce his chest and tried to scream, but he couldn't. After the pain stopped, Eddie realized he was no longer in the bar. He looked around trying to surmise where he was. He was shocked to see a skeleton, in circus garb no less, floating towards him. "Hi there. The name's Boston." The dead man looked down and noticed Eddie's chest. "Nice tattoo," he remarked, "I'll bet that one cost you."
