It is my amused pleasure to announce that we have officially broke 100 reviews on this story.

Story 3 is also nearly completed. Like the last four chapter are ready to be written and it's all downhill from here.

Chapter Twenty-Five: How To Be A Hero

Thursday morning, Perry was in attack mode.

After the excitement on Tuesday morning, it was a small miracle that he had even waited until Thursday to begin the assault. It was assumed that he had been waiting until the internet stopped exploding so rapidly and the initial waves of speculation had calmed. Waiting a full twenty-four hours in order to assess the aftermath and get a proper scope of the world-wide reaction.

By now, it was either known or strongly rumored that Lois Lane had indeed been involved with Tuesday's lightning storm because wasn't she always at the center when weird shit went down? She had become something of a minor celebrity overnight, for the clear images that she had gotten of what people were starting to call Metropolis's first hero. They also batted around the word "angel" with gleeful abandon.

The entire city was talking about the incident. It had hit the news channels that very afternoon and it had been somewhere on the front page of every evening publication. By early the next morning, it was safe bet that everyone in the city had at least seen one of the dozen pictures floating around. A little over forty-eight hours later, though, and still no one had the full story to present to the public.

Perry was determined that the Planet would be the first.

He ordered several interns to go out on the town. Two of them were tasked to bring back the major news publications and the other three were instructed to start interviewing people right there on the streets. He wanted to get a proper feel for what the city was saying by word of mouth. He stalked the newsroom several times, grabbing reporters by the shoulder and ordering them into the conference room.

"Kent!" Perry's hand landed on Clark's shoulder. "You too. I'm going to need your fast fingers while Lane's outta commission for a few days."

"I've seen her type with one hand." Clark pointed out.

"Yeah, but the painkillers are knocking her out. I don't expect she'll start feeling useful again 'til Monday." Perry informed him. Lois wasn't one of those people who went all funny in the head whilst on strong painkillers. They mostly just kicked her right over into a drug-fueled sleep from which none could wake her until the damn stuff wore off.

"Alright." Clark stood up.

Perry had drafted about two dozen reporters and photographers from across the landscape of the Planet into his campaign. He had grabbed the ones with an eye for the details and a nose for the dirt. His very best muckrakers; the ones who excelled with the proverbial shovel. The ones like Jack Bowman, the kind of reporter who was equivalent to a fisherman who pitched a line and didn't expect a bite, only to hook a fucking shark. Trista Tanner, who had a record for breaking into high-security locations with her camera and it only exceeded Lois's because she had just been on the job longer. Irene Robbins, who could sniff out the smallest details that didn't make sense to anyone. David Sandford, who just never fucking gave up. If anyone could figure out this flying man angel crap and make some kind of logical sense of it, it would be one of them.

As Perry shooed the last reporter into the conference room to close the door, a slightly bedraggled-looking Lois slipped up beside Clark and sent him a glare that warned him not to say a word. She wasn't as snappily dressed as Clark was used to seeing her. She had a fresh just-rolled-out-of-bed look and she wasn't wearing her usual amount of eye make-up. She looked curiously sleep-deprived even though she had probably been crashed in bed for twelve hours and she was holding her arm uncomfortably. It took Clark a moment to recognize that Lois was here with little more than just generic painkillers in her system, rather than what she had been prescribed.

"Ms. Lane, what are you doing here? Perry told you to take the rest of the week off." Clark whispered to her.

"And miss all the excitement? Get real, Smallville." Lois grinned. It was a touch strained. She had indeed foregone her prescribed painkillers in favor of something that wouldn't knock her on her ass. The ibuprofen just took the edge off. She regretted it -- since she could feel every single ache from the crown of her head to the tip of her toes and wrists were most certainly not meant to have two extra cracks in them -- but only a little. It was worth being here.

"You should at least be at home, Ms. Lane. You have a fractured wrist." Clark reminded her. She was not fine. He didn't need his x-ray vision to see that. She had this general air of 'awful' about her.

"Well, guess what. I'm fine." Lois grinned a little wider. "I'll go home later, now shush."

"Listen up, all of you." Perry waved a stack of newspapers above his head. "The News: 'It Flies.' The Star: 'Look Ma, No Wires.' The City Post: 'Blue Bomb Buzzes Metropolis.' Just a couple of the headlines from around the city. Read the stories and you'll find they're nothing but packing peanuts. No one has the story."

He slapped the newspapers down on the conference table.

"We're sitting on top of the story of the century here, folks! I want the name of this flying whatchamacallit to go with the Daily Planet like bacon and eggs, frank and beans, death and taxes, politics and corruption!

"Who is he? What is he? Angel or alien or genetic mutation? Metahuman? Where did he come from? What does he want? What is he doing here? Is he buying into this superhero crap that's getting around? Is he an alien or just another flying freak like that Zoom in Central City?"

"Er, Mr. White?" A reporter tentatively raised a hand. "Zoom doesn't fly. He just runs really fast."

"You're missing the point. Our guy flies." Perry said dismissively. "Those are the questions, folks, now I want the answers. I want to run a special edition by Saturday- Next Monday at the absolute latest! Full exclusive! Get me those answers and you'll get-- Well, probably a raise."

It wouldn't be much of a raise -- at the end of the day, the Planet wasn't making nearly enough money to justify a pay-raise over five dollars. But an extra two dollars added to the weekly sum was a welcome incentive.

"Now get out there!" Perry made a shooing motion. "I want you on the town! Talk to the people! This guy might fly and be really fast, but he's gotta hang his cape somewhere! This town talks! Find out what it's saying! Go!"

Buzzing with intrigue and growing excitement, the reporters filed out of the conference room. Clark hung back with Lois, waiting for the room to clear out a little. Barely a handful of people were out the door when Perry glanced over in their direction and caught sight of the young woman.

Lois wiggled her fingers in a 'hello'.

Perry sighed.

"I thought I told you to take the rest of the week off." he grumbled, once the last reporter had filed out, leaving just him, Lois and Clark in the conference room. Clark had to stay because Lois was starting to lean on him.

The dark-haired woman shrugged. "You know me, Chief. I don't do the whole 'sitting still' thing very well."

"You look like death warmed over, Lois." the editor said. "If you really wanted to know what was going on, I would have put you on conference call."

"Doesn't do it for me. I'm an action sort of girl." Lois said assertively, pushing off Clark and finding her balance again. She was very sore all over. Every bone in her body felt like it had been stretched to the breaking point.

"Ms. Lane, do you want to sit down?" Clark asked.

"You should sit down, Lois." Perry agreed.

Lois shook her head. "No, if I sit down, I won't be able to get back up and then one of you will have to carry me. And it would have to be Smallville here because your back isn't what is used to be, Chief."

"What's it gonna take for me to send you home and expect you to stay there?" Perry asked. He truly wasn't surprised that Lois had made it in at all. She rarely missed days because of illness, being the sort to decide that she really didn't feel that bad even with a runny nose and a chest-deep cough. He'd been hoping she'd have a little more common sense this time.

Lois shrugged. "Don't hold your breath. Anyways, I really just came to get my phone and my notes, before I noticed your little pow-wow."

"I could have gotten them sent to you." Perry said.

"Not as much fun." Lois said, rubbing her injured arm. It would stay in the cast until at least Christmas time.

Clark raised an eyebrow. "It was fun to come all this way when you look like a repurposed zombie?"

"Never underestimate the conviction of a repurposed zombie." the dark-haired woman replied, nodding sagely. Having someone send the notes and her phone to her would have been a waste of her valuable time. Far better to make the trek to the Planet herself. It let her keep an ear to the ground.

"Your phone is in your desk. Go home, Lois." Perry ordered.

"In a minute. I want to know if you're thinking about assigning the Gigante story. Because now it's really a story and I still want it." she said.

"I never picked it up in the first place." the editor-in-chief announced.

"Wha-- Perry!" Lois snapped, appalled that he would dare ignore something so important.

"There's a more important story to cover." Perry said.

"Oh, this-- this--" Lois made a few gestures to the front page picture of the Metro Eagle. "This guy? Flying man? What are they calling him?" she asked, looking between Perry and Clark.

"Nothing, so far." Perry replied. "There's a good story here, Lois. And I want you on it, as soon as you feel up to it."

"Oh god no." Lois rolled her eyes dramatically. "I am not wasting my time on this flying man angel dribble, even if he did rescue me. I've still got the mafia queen evil plot story. There's research to be done, follow-ups to be had. It's my story and I'm seeing it through to the end. For god's sake, I've got legit proof that Sofia Gigante has teamed up with Agent Fuckwad Trask! We've got a proper story of the century with internal corruption in the government that we can expose to the air like an open sore and a mafia plot to turn Metropolis into Gotham and you're putting us all after some muscle-bound Adonis in a cape?"

"The muscle-bound Adonis in a cape who saved you from certain death and the city from semi-speculated destruction is safer than the muscle-bound mafia queen who's likely still got her sights on you." Perry said with an enormous amount of patience.

"She wants me on her side, meaning there's something she wants me to spin around to look appealing, which means it's not palatable at all." Lois pointed out. As her mother had once told her, 'if someone tries to kill you in the course of the investigation or otherwise tries to convert you, you're probably on the right track'. "And I'm going to find out what it is. That woman has enough shit on her to stain her brown, but I want to shove her into the manure pile once and for all. If I can take Agent Trask down with her, all the better."

"I think that would be a bad idea." Clark said, speaking up for the first time. "I've had to deal with Trask before. He's unpleasant and--"

"Great, I can get a statement from you on that. You can be a source. You can tell me exactly what happened in Smallville when he rolled into town with his goon squad. I've been meaning to pick your brain. Agent Stoolie Canary went into police protection, so he's not much of an option anymore." Lois said, waving a hand grandly. "Besides, I know he's unpleasant. What would I do without you around to tell me that Trask is very unpleasant?"

"No need to be sarcastic, Ms. Lane." Clark said quietly. He was going to chalk this one up to the fact that Lois wasn't taking her prescribed painkillers and was therefore quite grumpy right now.

"And it's a fact we all know. Keeping the story would just mean ramming it down their throats." Perry reasoned. "After what happened Tuesday, people won't want to read about some government agent or mafia queen, no matter how shady they're being. They'll want the man in the cape."

"I don't want the man in the cape." Lois said, shaking her head. "And I can't be the only one. This Gigante story is big. It's huge, Perry. All the way up to through government big. Trask is a sexist asshole who doesn't work with women and Sofia Gigante is the last mafia threat in Metropolis in addition to being Carmine Falcone's daughter and they're conspiring with an Army general to fuck Metropolis right through its prostate to make it Gotham two point oh. They tried to get me in on the plan. Me! I'm not going to let the News get their hands on this one and definitely not the Star."

"And the man in the cape is an even bigger story, Lois. You can't deny that." Perry said, shaking his head in disbelief. He had been in this business far long enough to know what the next big thing was and for someone to come down out of the sky after appearing to save Metropolis... That was superhero big and Perry was not about to let it slip right through his fingers. "I really want you on this. You're rapidly becoming one of my best reporters and this could be just the thing that puts you back on your game."

"I'm already on my game, chief, and I don't need to write about a muscle-bound Adonis, whether he saved my life or not." Lois assured him. "Gigante story or nothing at all."

Her scowl was strong and potent, but Perry was not about to be outdone. He leveled a very flat stare at her. It could have been propped up like a wall. It was the flat stare Perry utilized when he absolutely did not want to hear any arguments to the contrary. It had been getting plenty of airing since Lois had come on board and he had fine-tuned it.

"Lois, the other day you were flown up two miles into the air by a metahuman and nearly dropped. A metahuman that was likely working for Trask. Now I've met this bastard too, remember--"

Lois did a double-take until she remembered that Perry had also been in Smallville when the agent had come knocking around for any signs of aliens amid a meteor shower, and realized that he and Clark had gotten the same view of the man.

"I know he had been implicated in murders, but he walks without being formally charged with anything. That means he has very powerful friends in very high places who can make pesky little murder charges disappear." the editor went on. "Chances are, you painted a target on your back and now everyone who has anything invested in Trask's alien nonsense is going to be keeping their eye on you. Keeping you away from anything to do with Trask or Gigante means you don't fall off from two miles up again without anyone to save you. What makes you think I'm crazy enough to let you through yourself back into the line of fire?"

Lois crossed her arms and replied: "Because you're Percival Wade White."

"Oh god, Lois..." Perry groaned, reeling away from his full name and the embarrassment that came with it.

"You're the Percival Wade White who exposed the Aryan Brotherhood and saved a man's life. The reporter who used his pen like a sword and ripped apart police corruption. The man who dragged scams and fraud to the center stage alongside Lionel Luthor. Sure, he got off, but you still cornered the slippery bastard and that was more than anyone else managed." Lois said. She had always looked up to those accomplishments. They were inspiring. "You're the man I've spent the last eight or nine years admiring because you wouldn't back off a story even when your life was on the line."

"Geez, Lois..." Perry was rubbing his neck, pink in the cheeks and fighting a smile.

Clark couldn't tell if Lois was honestly trying to flatter the editor or just play him like a bell by putting his accomplishments back in his face and citing one of her reasons for getting into this business in the first place. Either way, she would probably get her desired end result. She was hitting all the right notes, if Perry's expression was any measure.

At the same time, though, he looked really exasperated, like he couldn't believe Lois was putting all this back in his face like that.

Perry rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Christ, the mob's involved in this one. Maybe the government too." he said. It was the only argument he was certain of and by god he was going to make it compelling! "I don't want to see you get killed because of your own stubbornness. I don't want to have to call your family and tell them they need to plan your funeral. I don't want to put your obit in the paper."

"We're also not supposed to lie to people." Lois said. "We're the reporters. People will read about what we tell them is important. We shouldn't lie to them."

Perry espoused the truth and that was the whole of it. People had such faith in the news and the people who reported it that it might never occur to them that the headline on the front page wasn't actually that important.

And that was where she had backed the editor into a corner.

"So, chief. What's it gonna be?" Lois prompted, sensing that her possible victory was at hand. "You've got two dozen people on this flying man. You don't need me, specifically."

"Alright, alright!" Perry flapped his hands. "Stick with Gigante and Trask if it soothes your jimmies, but christ Lois! It's a dead end; I'm just saying. Gigante hasn't been charged for anything since Berkowitz and nothing is going to stick to Trask. Can I at least get your opinion on the flying man? It was your butt that was publicly saved."

"A statement, you mean?" Lois corrected. "Sure, I can play ball with that."

She picked up the Metro Eagle to look at the picture on their front page. It was a very good photo, captured in a moment of stillness outside the facade of the Metropolis General Hospital. The Metro Eagle had better printers for their photography, it had to be said.

"Nice ass." she said appreciatively, admiring the visible curve under the cape.

"Eh-Excuse me?" Clark spluttered in complete shock.

"I said 'S'. That 'S' there." Lois pointed to the pentagonal shield, clearly visible in the photo. Clark didn't recall the picture being taken, though he had been in a hurry to bugger out before too many more people saw him (something that he had totally failed at, by the way). It wasn't hard to miss a camera lens when you weren't looking for one.

"Look at this guy. He's strong, he flies, he's fast, he's incredibly durable and I bet he's bullet-proof too. He's the Nietzschean ideal all wrapped up in a red cape." she went on. "The ubermensch. The Super-Man."

"Super-man?" Clark repeated, not sure if he should be bewildered or flattered. Or maybe frightened. It wasn't the most humble name. Certainly not one he'd give to himself, that was for sure. 'Super-man' had the unsettling implication that he was superior to humans. He was, if he was being honest, but he only considered it in the physical terms.

"Hey, I like it!" Perry declared. He held his hands up like he was framing something. "Superman! It's bold, it's catchy, it sticks with you. The kind of name that looks great splashed across three columns! Make it four."

Lois frowned. "There isn't even a rough draft yet."

"That's why I need someone to get an interview with him." Perry said. He looked primarily at Lois when he said this. He had nothing against Clark, but the kid was still way too green and good interviews could be tricky. He needed more experience before he was ready to start splashing in that end of the pool.

Lois raised her hands. "Seriously chief, don't look at me. I already said 'no.'" she reminded him.

"Look, we need the real story and we need it from the horse's mouth. I put two dozen on this because with that many, we might stand a chance at narrowing down where to look. But I need someone to go in for the kill while we've got him surrounded." the editor explained.

Clark ignored the flutter of nerves and didn't tug on his collar.

Lois made a face. "I'm your hit-man? Is that what you think of me?"

"You're the right combination of hard-hitting and the soft touch." Perry told her. "I don't find many reporters who can ask the right questions and not sound like they're pushing."

Lois snorted. "Oh, I know some people who would dispute that." she grumbled. Not just 'some'. She had a list at least twenty names long and all of them had something to hide.

"You do come on strong sometimes." the editor conceded. Her soft touch left a little something to be desired. She was much better with the hammer. He sighed. "Well, if not you, then who do you recommend in your place?"

The dark-haired woman pondered a moment. "Julian Nash. He's a few years ahead of me--"

"I know him." Perry interrupted, waving a hand. It wasn't a bad choice. Julian Nash had been interviewing politicians and other bigwigs for a few years now. He was good, but he didn't seem like the right type of person to interview a might-be superhero.

"Now if you're serious about sticking to the other story, take Kent with you." he added. "I'll feel better with him watching your back. And he's had experience with the bastard."

Lois sighed. "You drive a hard bargain, Perry."

"It's the best you'll get from me." the editor said. He looked at Clark. "Kent, I know it's asking a lot, but you think you can manage it?"

"Of course, no problem." Clark assured him. He was very nearly finished with his most recent article anyways -- he just needed to proof-read it before sending it to the editing desk.

"And take Lois home, would you?"

"Hey! I don't need a babysitter!" Lois snapped. "I got here all right, didn't I?"

"Lois, I'm not arguing this one." Perry said, giving her the flat stare. "I don't care if you got here in one piece. Kent is walking you home. Is. That. Clear?"

"Fine, fine, fine." Lois heaved another sigh and tossed the Metro Eagle back on the table. "Stay off my heels, Smallville, or I'll kick you in the shins." she instructed. She left the conference room with her hands on her hips. Perry shot Clark an apologetic, but grateful look.

A few minutes later, they were stepping out in the brittle cold of Metropolis's winter. It was just barely mid-morning and there weren't many people out and about right now. Those who braved the cold dashed quickly down the sidewalks to their destination. There was an icy wind coming off the lake.

"Where to, Ms. Lane?" Clark asked, tugging his hat a little lower over his head.

"I usually take the bus." Lois replied. She peered up and down the street with a sense of vague confusion, like she wasn't entirely sure of her bearings. She shook her head. "Sorry. Fleischer Boulevard train station, the south-bound F-line. It's kind of a walk from here, so I usually take the bus. This way."

They made it to the end of the block before Lois spoke up.

"Say, Smallville. What do you think about this angel flying man business?" she asked.

"Hmm..." Clark had to think for a moment. He knew exactly what he thought about it, but he had scramble up an acceptable response. "I don't believe in angels, not really. My parents weren't the church-going type, so I wasn't either... I guess there's an afterlife, maybe? Of some kind? A higher power? Sometimes, things just work out too well to be coincidences... I guess I don't really have an opinion."

"On what, angels or flying men?"

"Angels."

Smallville had grown out of the necessity of transporting produce and cattle and trading along the Santa Fe Trail, rather than a pastor erecting a church for his flock. Religion had come to Smallville later, but by then, the residents had gotten the soil of the earth under their fingernails. Clark's parents and many of the long-standing residents subscribed to just being good neighbors and that things would work out if you applied time, patience and effort in proportioned amounts.

"So you think it's just a flying man?" Lois prompted.

Clark shrugged. "I didn't see what happened." he lied. "But the ubermensch? Isn't that implying a little too much about this guy?"

Lois peered up at him. "What do you know about the ubermensch, Smallville? Have you even read Nietzsche?"

"Yes, my senior year English teacher was very big on it. I've read 'Thus Spoke Zarathustra'. I read it a few times more for fun." Clark nodded. "I'm saying that by comparing this flying man so directly to the idea of the ubermensch, you've implied that he is, in a way, the new God. The old God is dead, so a super man rises to create the new values for people to live up to. And what if they're bad values? What if this guy isn't the best person? I just think it's premature to start calling him 'Superman'."

Part of Lois was relieved that to meet someone who actually understood the ubermensch concept, while the rest of her pondered over Clark's take on the matter. It was true that in the last few decades, the world had been somewhat lacking in strong moral values. It seemed like they had fizzled out with the end of World War II, when their favorite heroes had been become embroiled in the shadier aspects of the Cold War. Or had been forced to step down from their hero work due to government actions. The ones still active had stopped making national headlines. The Flash, for example, had limited his activities to the Keystone-Central Metropolitan area, sticking close to home before he had retired so completely that there were rumors going around about his death.

And the new guy in Central, Zoom the Saffron Streak, well...

To put it simply, three-quarters of the city was agitating for him to step the fuck off.

"Well, it's either him or Lex Luthor and I'll take the lesser evil, thank you." Lois announced. She was almost out of fingers for the number of times Luthor had declared himself, directly or otherwise, the new ideal. The new breed of man.

"You still didn't answer my question, though." she added, sending Clark half a glare over her shoulder. "If you don't think the flying man's an angel, then what d'you think he is?"

"Uh, alien?" Clark suggested, trying to sound as though he thought the idea was completely impossible.

Lois looked skeptical. "One who looks that human? Give me a break, Smallville."

"Yeah, you're right. I suppose an alien would look more- alien." Clark said, faking agreement. A little nervous laugh escaped him. I've got to get her off this topic. "Again, I didn't really see him- or it. Or whatever."

"I'm leaning more towards meta, personally." the dark-haired woman said. "Flight and strength- He had to be really strong to carry me up two miles. Pretty much impervious to the cold. Dr. Essex acted like they knew each other, so I imagine they had the same set of powers. Super-human qualities if I've ever seen them. Like Wonder Woman. And stuff like that... Well, you just don't see that much anymore. I think this guy's gonna be easy to find. You know, if I was looking for him."

I'll have to make sure I'm covering my tracks very well, if I do this again. Clark thought uneasily. She'll probably poke around. Just out of curiosity.

Perry was right about one thing. If anyone was going to figure out "Superman", it would probably be Lois Lane. But if Clark did go forward with a superhero thing, he wanted to try for something resembling a normal life. If comics had taught him anything, maintaining a normal life also meant not letting anyone in on the secret identity. There had to be a line where the hero-stuff couldn't invade the everyday stuff. Clark still liked the idea of his privacy.

Lois couldn't be allowed to find out, even just casually.

"Why do you think he'll be easy to find?" Clark wondered.

"Guy like that can't hide forever." Lois said simply. "By the way, what did Perry put you on?"

"Oh, he's got me following Ms. Merlo's contribution to the urban renewal in West River."

Lois made a face. "Better you than me." she muttered. "He couldn't give you something more exciting? Dealing with Ms. Merlo is like talking to a lizard. Everything looks fine until she licks her eyeball."

"Someone has to write these articles, Ms. Lane." Clark said.

"Still, ugh." Lois shuddered. Reporting on the civic stuff and Ms. Merlo, important though they were, threatened to put her to sleep. Perry claimed that her first assignment had given her a taste for danger and had turned her into a crusader for uncovering all the ills in Metropolis and that he regretted that very moment. He always said it so dramatically that she couldn't take him seriously.

"Tell you what, Smallville. The next LexCorp thing I have, you can tag along. You need to meet His Majestic Chrome Dome, King of the Follically Challenged, Lex Luthor." she offered.

It was a positively generous offer, by her standards. LexCorp was her beat and she didn't give it up easily. Just sharing it was monumental. But Clark was a good guy and frankly, he needed to understand the truth about Lex Luthor before he started thinking the business man was actually a good guy.

"By the way, thank you for the flowers. They were lovely." she added before he could say anything. He had bought her a nice bouquet of yellow roses before walking her home Tuesday.

"Oh, it was no problem." Clark cleared his throat, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest.

"I need to buy you a cookie."

"You don't need to."

"No, I really think I should. It'll be a big one. Six inches across. Chocolate chips the size of your head. C'mon, there's a nice little bakery just around this corner here." Lois grabbed a handful of Clark's coat and dragged him down the sidewalk. "Pick up your feet! Don't make me do all the work here!"

"I'm coming, Ms. Lane, I'm coming."

Even with all the excitement surrounding his truly dramatic rescue, there was one thing that Clark couldn't ignore.

For the first time in a very long time, he had used his powers openly in front of hundreds of people. And thousands more had seen it on the news. Lois's video was spreading across the internet just as quickly as his rescue of the little girl that first Friday. But the comments were different. No longer was he just a "lucky dude". The word 'hero' had gotten about in relatively short order.

He had saved Lois just as he had intended. He had saved her because he didn't have to hide his powers. The cape, the strange armor-like suit that the A.I.s had provided him with that morning (wired with sensors intended to monitor his vitals and energy output and such so the A.I.s could begin to understand how his powers worked) had allowed him to step out in a much more open manner than he ever would have. By the way things looked, no one had connected him, the Flying Man, to Clark Kent of yesterday.

Not even Lois.

(His parents didn't count.)

It was strange that Lois hadn't recognized him. Of all people, he would have thought she would be the first. For the past five weeks, they had spent nearly every waking moment in each other's company, usually face to face. And when he really thought about it, the disguise was paper-thin. The glasses changed the shape of his face and the color of his eyes. He made sure to hunch and slouch a little so he didn't stand out as much.

Did it really make that much of a difference to take off the glasses and stand tall?

He could be a superhero! In the fashion of the Justice Society! It had been nearly two decades since there had last been a superhero in the world (really, Zoom did not count). Clark briefly entertained a grand vision of himself doing heroic things, but his thoughts were brought back to earth with an unpleasant bump.

He could be a superhero, but the real question was: should he be?

The world had changed since the days of the Justice Society. Since the days when Jay Garrick the Flash and Alan Scott the Green Lantern and the Sandman and Hourman had stood tall among the giants of their time. When the mighty Wonder Woman had strode across the battlefields of Europe with sword and shield and meteor hammer lasso, her footsteps falling with the wrath of the Greek gods. When the Justice Society had held a certain, almost tangible grip on the values of the American populace.

Back when having super-powers was something to be admired and celebrated, not feared and hated so viciously.

Some people looked back on that time and called it a simpler one, a better one. When there was a strong sense of community and national spirit. Back then, things had been rather more black and white compared to today. Everyone had known who the enemy was and they had united against the Nazi regime.

The world had changed and not necessarily changed for the better.

What business did he have to really run with the Nietzschean Super Man idea? To be the one who created a new system of values for a person to live by? Because he would do it, however accidentally. The more he appeared, the more often he was seen... Hell, all he had to do was exist and the most impressionable members of society would try to emulate him.

Or worse, they would call him the enemy.

That was what was happening down in Central and Keystone. The news had been all over Zoom the Saffron Streak after his first appearance, three years ago this past July. It had been a lot of praising at first; Keystone had a proud history of speedsters and a general feeling of fondness towards them. So when he had first appeared prominently on the news, even Smallville had experienced a sense of distant excitement towards what seemed to be the first reappearance of the superheroes.

How exciting to witness it!

But all that interest and intrigue and excitement had gotten sucked away and turned into snarking and ill-will and anger out the wazoo when it became obvious that Zoom was really a great big bag of dicks. He had repeatedly failed to live up to any basic expectation and continued to do so. He was rude to reporters, callous towards the people he rescued, sneered more than he smiled, and, in many people's opinion, shat all over Jay Garrick's legacy. Whatever heroic image he had started out with had been tainted by own behavior and further stained by the vitriol people threw at him. If the speedster made even one positive headline, it was because he hadn't shown up to the scene of the disaster.

Zoom didn't seem aware of his rotting reputation either. Unaware that people hated him. They said that he had no business trying to be anyone's hero.

And what if they thought the same about Superman?

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