Lex Luthor swung around, pulling the trigger as he went.
To Superman's horror, he realized it just a second too late.
As the purple beam hit him, it burned a hole through his suit, and in Clark's mind, the beam kept on going right through his skin, his ribs, until it hit his heart.
He radiated for a moment, arms thrown up in anguish, releasing a silent scream of horror.
And then it was over. And everyone could hear his last ounce of power washing away with one pitiful cry of weakness.
The hundreds of thousands of citizens of Metropolis stood still, waiting, watching, judging.
Their hero, their savior wasn't dead. No, he was far from it.
Lex had never been happier in his entire life, and yet only the slyest, malicious smile crept up the side of his face.
"So ends the reign of Superman." He began to laugh manically, in a way no one had ever heard Lex sound before. He was giddy, drunk with power, and absolute satisfaction of his ultimate goal.
For Superman was dead.
And yet, Clark Kent remained. And only Clark Kent. Only the shell of a once magnificent creature, who billions had placed in their hearts as a God. The phenomenal being, a visitor from the stars sent to earth to be the world's greatest hero.
But now, his powers were gone.
Physically unhurt, Clark slowly lifted his head, fear blaring in his mind, feeling ashamed to meet the people's eyes.
And yet he looked anyway.
And the misery of it almost finished him for good.
Where once was wonder, amazement, and love, now was disappointment, and in some cases, disgust.
He was no hero now.
He hung his head back in shame as slim wisps of smoke still raised from his flesh.
People began talking, only he had trouble hearing what they said, his ears were now ordinary.
And feet began moving.
For a brief moment, Clark's imagination flashed in his mind a scene, where the people came to him, raising him, even up to their shoulders, still thankful of the man he had been, the sacrifices he had given for their lives.
But the feet weren't moving toward him, they wandered off, back to their homes, their jobs, their lives that had no need for another useless, boring, mortal man.
Some gawkers stayed on and watched him as he remained kneeling in the mud, unmoving. Some people even laughed.
He heard the police wonder if they had the right to arrest Luthor, who had ambled away, almost in a drunken joy. Was it a crime to take away someone's superpowers?
Clark pressed his teeth together, for the first time feeling the pain of biting his tongue. He grimaced, holding onto his wits for dear life, not about to let his tears out.
And yet a tear slid down his dirty cheek anyway.
Clark noticed there was someone nearby who hadn't moved the entire time. He shifted his head slightly, so he could see who it was.
Lois.
The sight of her made him feel just that bit stronger. He looked at her and reached out his arm.
With a weak, almost pathetic voice he called her name.
But she looked at him, wondering what she had ever seen in him. Her feet backed her up a few steps. Revulsion lined her face and filled her eyes. She shook her head. And quickly made her exit.
A small cry emitted Clark's lips as his hand flopped back into the mud, accidently splashing it on his face.
What would he do now? He could no longer fly and escape. He'd have to walk home to Clark Kent's apartment in his tattered, useless, gaudy costume.
And then what?
He covered his face with his hands as tears began to run free of their own accord.
And then he felt a hand on his shoulder. A gentle touch.
Whoever he or she was, he couldn't bear to look. To have them see him crying. To have him be even less of worth in their eyes.
But they did nothing to force him to stop, or to look up.
In fact, the one touch turned into a hug, as petite, delicate arms wound their way around him. Their body, a woman's, he could now tell, held him close, kneeling in the dirt and the drags along with him.
He didn't even know who it was, and yet did nothing but rest his head against her shoulder until his eyes could cry no more.
He was sure his face would be red, and blotchy, but he revealed it anyway, just to see who had him in their arms so tenderly, and unashamedly.
He blinked several times to see her face clearly. Perhaps he really would need glasses after all.
It was...
An angel.
He was sure of it.
Humbled, and amazed by this miracle, he rubbed his eyes and looked again.
"Lana?"
"I'm here Clark. I've always been here."
Clark felt those tears welling up again, this time of gratefulness, and also a grieving for past mistakes.
He managed to blurt out, "I know. I know. Are you sure you still want to be there?"
"I'll always be here."
She pulled him closer in a hug and held him tight. And this time, he felt the strength to pull up his arms and enclose her as well.
He whispered in her ear.
"It's over Lana. It's all over. Superman will never live, ever again.
"Clark. You of all people should know, that stories never end this way."
"Oh, no?"
"No. Don't stop fighting the good fight Clark. It doesn't matter if you change the world as a super hero, or as an ordinary human being."
She continued, "Don't stop now Clark, show me how it ends."
Clark looked in her eyes, and for the first time since the beam hit him, he felt hope.
Maybe his powers were gone for good. Or maybe, somehow, someday, he'd find a way to restore them. Either way, she was right, it wasn't over. Not in the slightest.
"How it ends?"
He got to his feet and held out his hand, helping her up.
They shared a loving glance, as Clark bent down to softly and sweetly kiss her.
They began to walk forwards together.
The End