Author's Note: To the few people following my story, I apologize for the long hiatus. I wrote it, was under the impression that it wasn't getting enough interest and abandoned the second chapter halfway through. I had no idea it had garnered a following. I'm gonna revive it and get it moving no later than next week, after I'm done with the exams that are holding me down this semester. Until then, here's the first half of the second chapter.
Mount Aconcagua, Argentina
Two weeks after the battle of Metropolis
The sub-zero temperatures that reigned atop the mountain side were nothing but invigorating to the Man of Steel. So long as he remained within the domain of the solar system, he was the strongest being on Earth, no questions asked. He was near invincible, faster than a speeding bullet and could reach heights in a few minutes that a space shuttle couldn't reach in a day. But his pain was not physical. There was turmoil brewing on the inside, a psychological threat that he couldn't lobotomize with his laser vision or throw into the depths of cosmos with his super strength. Turns out that for all of his godly feats, he had the emotional range and structure of a normal human. That made sense, since he was raised by humans.
There were bits and pieces of that horrible battle that took Metropolis by storm residing in his mind, and unfortunately none of them helped his emotional state. He recalled himself down on the ground on one of the islands right after having destroyed the World Engine, his energy being slowly replenished by the Sun. His next snippet was of him filtering all the cries for help from the people below in order to pinpoint Zod's location. Even though a large extent of his power had been unleashed at that point, that was the moment he felt the most helpless. None of those as haunting as the image of an innocent family driven to a corner, their life threatened by the alien overlord he had on a chokehold. His last words, a cruel display of apathy that made Clark realize he had no choice, and then an audible crack. Zod's body collapsing into the ground, his mouth agape, his eyes no longer glowing red.
Clark shook his head as if to drive those perturbing thoughts out of it. Effortlessly and with the grace of an angel, he rose from the ground, the cape flapping in the wind making a nice addition to his arcane presence. His ears perked up in response to a noise in the far East. Nothing alarming. Just the buzzing, impatient sound of a crowd and the grating racket of machinery. He knew exactly what that was about.
Opting to leave the moping for later, Superman dashed with a speed that the human eye could not perceive if it wasn't for the trail of air current that it left behind. He maintained the same pace until he reached his destination - the Indian Ocean. He hovered below the clouds and to an altitude where the crowd could spot him. Then, he braced for the inevitable to happen.
"There he is!" one of them howled as he held up his phone. What followed afterwards was a unison of chants, screaming and unintelligible noises from the crowd. Few feet away from the island where they were situated was the fallen World Engine and around four military hovercrafts circling it. Two twin-engine, tandem rotor military transportation helicopters were above. Only vehicle that didn't fit in the mix was a Channel 4 news chopper loitering a couple hundred yards away.
Electing to ignore the assembly below him, Superman glided down to the side of one of the helicopters. The side door slid open and a soldier appeared to greet him.
"Nice to see you're among us, sir!" the private spoke as his increased tone of voice failed to overpower the uproar caused by the twin engines. Not that it mattered, what with Clark's enhanced hearing and all.
"Likewise, soldier." Clark responded in kindness, a faint smile creeping up his face. "But you don't need to refer to me as a 'sir'. I'm not your superior." Contrary to the zealous soldier, Superman didn't need to exert his lungs to reach audibility. His voice weighed like an anvil.
"What is the plan?" Clark spoke again all the while looking at the military presence underneath. Unsurprisingly, their eyes were on him.
"Well sir-I mean- Superman, we've just finished our inspection of the Engine. Both helicopters have their own respective grappling hooks attached to the bottom. We've estimated that the combined strength of the choppers and the cable's tensile strength will allow for us to lift it up momentarily. However, we will not be able to reach our destination without your intervention." The soldier recited, holding on to a beam to avoid tumbling down into the sea. Clark listened on intently. There was a brief moment where there were no words being uttered.
"Alright, private. Whenever you're ready." Clark eventually broke the silence, his reply met by a firm, military salute. The chopper's side door slid closed. Superman hovered away and made his descent in the Engine's direction, coming close to it but not close enough for his feet to to rest on it. It's legs were submerged in water with only it's base remaining visible on the surface. He looked at the machine with a poker face, making note of the two designated Xs painted on top of it, though inside he harbored an unhealthy dose of loathing. He perceived it as a representation of his grand failure which made the prospect of having it decommissioned even more appealing.
The wire cables expelled from the choppers simultaneously and advanced within inches from Superman's torso before latching to the Engine with an audible clink. The Red Cape didn't even flinch, his heightened senses allowing him to predict exactly where the cable would land. The choppers hovered up, raising their altitudes as the Engine's remaining mechanisms fell into place, the resulting monstrous sound they made boosting the onlookers over at the neighboring island on a cheering frenzy. Slowly but surely, the Engine rose up from the sea to the point where you could see it's demolished lower limbs. Superman flew under it with ease and grabbed the base with both of his hands. The cheers intensified. Amidst the incoherent chanting, the words "WE LOVE YOU SUPERMAN!" and other praises were tossed away. Sadly, Clark's survivor guilt didn't allow him to savor his fame. His gaze remained trained on the piece of alien artillery that he was so effortlessly holding with his bare hands. It was almost ridiculous how unconcealed his publicity campaign was. The World Engine was something he could have lifted and transported himself, but the bureaucrats insisted that he completes such a menial task in full cooperation with the army in order to "highlight his benevolence". Clark understood well that was political talk for "make the government look good".
The tandem rotor helicopters inched closer to one another, causing the Engine's weight to rest on the red and blue savior underneath. With that done, the choppers lingered for a while before heading off with Supes right under their tail. The Channel 4 news helicopter followed suit, no doubt broadcasting the event continuously. It was not something to be said out loud, but Clark did feel a relief surge his body as the crowd's chants became more and more distant.