STAINED STEEL
By Joshua Epstein
(Usual disclaimer)
On The Eleventh Day He Wept
Clark Kent looked out the window of the towering Daily Planet offices that overlooked the gleaming spires of Metropolis. The early morning sun glinted off the Branian-13 enhanced chrome surfaces of impossibly tall buildings. Orange clouds receded over the horizon as the sun came up on the city. All was well in Metropolis, and all was well in the mind of the city's protector.
A slight smile on his face, the overgrown Boy Scout from Kansas sat down at his desk and began to look over his schedule for the day. Meetings, interviews, lunch; all were standard fare for the Planet's star reporter.
"Oh my god…" Came the whisper from around the room. Clark turned in his chair to look at the large television screen on the far wall of the newsroom. Plastered across the seven by five screen was an image of the World Trade Center in New York, one tower aflame, spewing debris. Without hesitation, Kent dashed from his desk to the storeroom, from where he rocketed into the skies above the city.
Mere moments later, the Metropolis Marvel streaked toward the site of the disaster, cape flowing straight back in the wind, almost pressed to his back with the velocity he was maintaining. It had been only seconds since the first crash as Superman dropped to the streets of New York City.
Staring up at the towers, he began to feel a sense of helplessness. The structural integrity of the building was intact for the moment, but gas was feeding the fire, and the amount of lead in the building was preventing him from finding a way to cut off the flow. Gritting his teeth, he soared up toward the inferno and disappeared inside the building.
He was seemingly everywhere, hunting through the flame and smoke for those who he could carry to safety. There were just too many, and he had no way to get them all out. He could feel a great pain tearing through his all-too-human heart as he tried to decide whom he could save. He lowered pair after pair to ground level, leaving them in the hands of the medical personnel who had arrived on the scene. As he rose once again to enter the tower, everything in the world seemed to slow down as the second plane collided with the Tower Two. The Last Son of Krypton watched as debris flew everywhere. He watched, seemingly paralyzed as person after person threw themselves from the Towers. He moved like the wind, catching those he could, but each one that collided with the debris on the ground was like a dagger to his heart.
"All these powers… and I couldn't even save them…"
AFTERWORD:
I wrote this several days after September 11th. I've kept it on my computer since then because I felt that it was incomplete. However, I just recently reopened issue #36 of Amazing Spiderman at marvel's DotComics. After reading that, I was just moved to the heart. Read it. That's all.
By Joshua Epstein
(Usual disclaimer)
On The Eleventh Day He Wept
Clark Kent looked out the window of the towering Daily Planet offices that overlooked the gleaming spires of Metropolis. The early morning sun glinted off the Branian-13 enhanced chrome surfaces of impossibly tall buildings. Orange clouds receded over the horizon as the sun came up on the city. All was well in Metropolis, and all was well in the mind of the city's protector.
A slight smile on his face, the overgrown Boy Scout from Kansas sat down at his desk and began to look over his schedule for the day. Meetings, interviews, lunch; all were standard fare for the Planet's star reporter.
"Oh my god…" Came the whisper from around the room. Clark turned in his chair to look at the large television screen on the far wall of the newsroom. Plastered across the seven by five screen was an image of the World Trade Center in New York, one tower aflame, spewing debris. Without hesitation, Kent dashed from his desk to the storeroom, from where he rocketed into the skies above the city.
Mere moments later, the Metropolis Marvel streaked toward the site of the disaster, cape flowing straight back in the wind, almost pressed to his back with the velocity he was maintaining. It had been only seconds since the first crash as Superman dropped to the streets of New York City.
Staring up at the towers, he began to feel a sense of helplessness. The structural integrity of the building was intact for the moment, but gas was feeding the fire, and the amount of lead in the building was preventing him from finding a way to cut off the flow. Gritting his teeth, he soared up toward the inferno and disappeared inside the building.
He was seemingly everywhere, hunting through the flame and smoke for those who he could carry to safety. There were just too many, and he had no way to get them all out. He could feel a great pain tearing through his all-too-human heart as he tried to decide whom he could save. He lowered pair after pair to ground level, leaving them in the hands of the medical personnel who had arrived on the scene. As he rose once again to enter the tower, everything in the world seemed to slow down as the second plane collided with the Tower Two. The Last Son of Krypton watched as debris flew everywhere. He watched, seemingly paralyzed as person after person threw themselves from the Towers. He moved like the wind, catching those he could, but each one that collided with the debris on the ground was like a dagger to his heart.
"All these powers… and I couldn't even save them…"
AFTERWORD:
I wrote this several days after September 11th. I've kept it on my computer since then because I felt that it was incomplete. However, I just recently reopened issue #36 of Amazing Spiderman at marvel's DotComics. After reading that, I was just moved to the heart. Read it. That's all.