His is the brightest name in all of superheroes. He is the most powerful.
He is Superman.
An Innocent Soul
"Damned bureaucrats!" grumbled Jor El as he walked into his home. His wife, thirteen earth months pregnant, and barely showing waited fearfully for her husband. She rushed up to him, but his grim expression told her the story.
"They didn't believe you?!" she cried in disbelief.
"As long as they have that damned machine they wont listen to a word I say." He shook his head. "Our world is doomed, because of us. there are a million things we could do to save ourselves, yet they will do nothing."
"Is there anything we could do Jor?" His wife asked fearfully.
"With our budget and resources . . . I could build a ship, but it would only be big enough for one . . ."
"I would never leave you here to die Jor!" she cried taking his arm.
"To be honest my love, I wasn't thinking of you." He gave a meaningful look to her abdomen, which was only just beginning to swell.
"So our son will live?" she asked.
"Not just live," he said guiding her to his work shop. He activated a holographic display which showed a small blue planet in a system of nine around a star. "He will flourish."
"That star Jor, its yellow." Kara pointed out.
"Yes, that and many other aspects of the planet will have incredible effects on him."
"Like what?" she asked.
"Well their gravity is a great deal lower than ours is. Thus he will be very strong, and his bones will be virtually unbreakable as our atmospheric pressure is greater than it is on this planet. Also our bodies metabolize light, and the yellow light will raise his metabolism, giving him incredible speed. Also just being in the different light spectrums will give him a broader spectrum than the inhabitants. His X-ray vision will seem extraordinary and actually enable him to see through solid objects. Also his infrared vision will in fact emit infrared rays, heat beams Kara."
"Well it seems that I have chosen the appropriate name for our boy then," said Kara sadly.
"What name have you given him?" he asked.
"Kal El," he responded thinking of the life growing within her. "It is from the old language. El, your last name means 'Man' or 'One who is' and Kal means 'Great' or 'Super'."
Over the next twelve earth months, Jor worked night and day to finish his son's ship. Kara, who was a linguist and a personal device programmer, built the 'note to pin to his baby blanket' so to speak. She gave birth in the twelfth month, a healthy baby boy. He was slightly premature for a Kryptonian child, but healthy none the less.
Two months later was the day. The lay little Kal in his ship and both parents kissed him farewell as they wept. They had waited for the last possible moment to send him so that the government would not force the ship back down. They held each close and felt the rumbling begin.
"I'm scared Jor!" Kara yelled over the rumblings.
"Me too Kara, me too." Jor held his wife close. They had been married since they were only children. For years they had struggled to make their marriage work, and truly were in love. But their lives were snuffed out as their world died in a terrific explosion that no one would ever hear.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TWO YEARS LATER
"Hey Jonathan!" yelled Hiram Lang.
"Hiram!" Jonathan Kent called back, "How the hell are ya?"
"I'm good, I'm moving back to Smallville." Hiram beamed as he announced his return to Kansas.
"Really?!" Jonathan was overjoyed at the idea of his childhood friend returning to the town that Jonathan had never left.
"Yep, Kim and I decided that the city was no place to raise our daughter." Hiram's grin spread from ear to ear in a wide grin.
"You have a daughter?!" Jonathan yelled.
"Yep, Lana. She was born last spring.
"Congratulations!" Jonathan yelled as he shook his friend's hand. Jonathan Kent was a kind and friendly man that almost the entire town of Smallville, some five hundred, counted as a friend. He lent his strength where he could and his wisdom where he thought it fit.
"How about you and Martha?" he asked happily, expecting Jonathan to have mess of children.
"How about Jonathan and me what?" asked Martha as she came up to her husband's side.
"Honey, this is my old friend I told you about Hiram Lang. He and his wife are moving back to Smallville with their little girl."
"I was just asking about how many children you two had," explained Hiram.
"Er . . . I think I need to go check on June," Martha said uncomfortable and left.
Hiram looked at her confused. Jonathan explained, "She can't have children. We tried for years, but . . . nothing. She is ashamed for some reason. I gotta go, Lot to do today. Sorry." Jonathan bid his friend farewell and got into his truck with his wife.
They pulled up to his farm and greeted his loyal farm hand, Mac Ross. Mac was also blessed with a child, a boy named Pete. It was this very afternoon that the lives of those on the Kent farm were changed forever.
It sounded like a clap of thunder. Then they noticed the falling star. It crashed loudly in the field, thowing a wave of burned cornstalks at them. As they made their way toward the smoldering crater there was no talking. The reached the rim and looked in. the ship looked like an egg for the most part with a pentagon jutting out around the edge. There seemed to be a top witch was made of glass. The glass was shattered and littered the crater.
"Oh god!" Martha cried as she saw what appeared to be a baby boy. She rushed down into the bottom of the crater and swept up the child, brushing the glass off of him. "What in god's name is going on?" she asked of her husband.
"Martha . . . I just don't know . . ." he said.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TWELVE YEARS LATER
The young boy found in the crater by the lonely family was taken in and loved so much. He was named Clark, for Martha's maiden name. he was informally adopted. Three days later a tornado ripped through the town and in the chaos the little boys sudden appearance was not so unexpected. In the rubble of the crash site the Kent's and Ross' found many things, among them a small sphere the color of a cloud. When he was ten, they told him of his true origin. A year later, he told his best friend Pete Ross.
He grew up so loved, that he was never in a fight. Hit; yes, insulted; yes, a social out cast; yes, but he never fought. He was a truly innocent soul. He was the epitome of the naïve farm boy. His gifts had been extremely useful in running the farm. But there were always a few things that could not be controlled. Idiots will always be among those things.
A girl in town had been murdered. The only description of the killer had been "black". The most prominent black person in town was Mac. He had disappeared early one Sunday. June, his wife and Martha's best friend, Jonathan, Martha, Pete and Clark all went out looking for him. It was Clark that found him.
It was in a clearing where an old church had stood. Long before Clark had arrived the church had burnt down. Now the local Klan used it as a meeting place. This was a public secret that the entire town of Smallville knew, but usually they were harmless drunks, so no one cared. As Clark came upon the clearing, he saw a large bon fire burning itself out. There were no white sheets left in the clearing, but there was a person there. Mac lay on the ground. Clark zipped up to him, using his superspeed.
"Mr. Clark?" Mac asked. He had addressed all of the Kent's like this since he had first started working on the farm. He had always been quite subservient, despite being, apparently, the strongest person in Smallville.
"Mac! Are you okay?" he Clark begged.
"No sir Mr. Clark. I think I need a doctor."
Clark clenched his fist "I'll kill those jerks!"
"No!" Mac said and grabbed his wrist tightly. "You to good for that! You got a good soul."
"But they can't do what they did!" he said, through tears.
"You kill them you no better than them. . ." he coughed for a moment and blood came out. "Your soul don't need that. The world need you the way you are . . . good."
It was an hour later on the trip to the emergency room that Mac died. The Klansmen were never arrested. Clark however always remembered that night. That night was the night he learned the difference between justice and vengeance.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!
EIGHT YEARS LATER
Clark grew up to learn to use knowledge as a weapon. He had exposed racists in the town government using his high school newspaper, and won himself a full scholarship to NYU and an internship at the Daily Bugle. He was only working in the mailroom for now, but he was on the way. He was so happy.
He had also decided, without his parents permission, to become a costume. He had had his girlfriend, Lana, design his uniform. It was red, yellow, and blue camouflage, with a tight Kevlar T-Shirt bearing the same symbol that was found in his ship. It resembled an "S" inside of an inverted pentagon. He had shoulder pads, elbow pads, and knee pads, all bore the same symbol as his chest. On his face he wore a blue helmet with a yellow visor.
His first day out he flew around and found a mugger but was right in the middle of trussing up two muggers in a street light, when he was tapped on the shoulder. He turned around and saw no one, that's when the voice said, "Hey, fashion statement, up here." He looked up and his eyes widened.
"Spider-Man!" he yelped. He pulled from a pocket Lana had sewed in, a note book. "Can I get your autograph?" he asked excitedly.
Spider-Man looked at him skeptically, and at the notepad. "You're joking right?"
"Um, no?" Clark said.
"Let me get this straight; you, a costume, want my autograph?"
"You bet!" Clark said.
"Let me guess; just off the bus from Kansas?"
"Erm . . . more or less, howdya guess?"
Spider-Man shook his head sadly, "The accent, the . . . I think the word is naïveté. Although, I gotta admit, this is the best costume one of us has ever worn. Did you get one of the Fab four on this thing?"
"Um, well sorta . . . I got friend in design."
"Yeah . . . They just sling out union cards to everyone in odd colors these days don't they?"
"heh, well at least I bring things to the table don't I?" he gesturing to the criminals trussed up in the street light.
"Nice, is that and flying your only talents? Maybe a hyper-cornshucking power? Let me guess super cow milking?"
Clark gave him a side long look, "You know I could set your head on fire by looking at it, or look through your mask."
"Point taken. But what do you call yourself?"
"I'm Super-Man!" he said proudly.
Spidey chortled, the snorted, the accidently let go of his webbing and fell to the ground laughing. The criminals in the streetlamp were also laughing. Once Spidey composed himself he chuckled out, "That's the best you got!"
"It means something to me! It's the name my birth parents gave me!"
Spidey stopped dead. "Sorry. I know what parents birth parents can mean."
Thus began the illustrious career of a legend.
An Innocent Soul
"Damned bureaucrats!" grumbled Jor El as he walked into his home. His wife, thirteen earth months pregnant, and barely showing waited fearfully for her husband. She rushed up to him, but his grim expression told her the story.
"They didn't believe you?!" she cried in disbelief.
"As long as they have that damned machine they wont listen to a word I say." He shook his head. "Our world is doomed, because of us. there are a million things we could do to save ourselves, yet they will do nothing."
"Is there anything we could do Jor?" His wife asked fearfully.
"With our budget and resources . . . I could build a ship, but it would only be big enough for one . . ."
"I would never leave you here to die Jor!" she cried taking his arm.
"To be honest my love, I wasn't thinking of you." He gave a meaningful look to her abdomen, which was only just beginning to swell.
"So our son will live?" she asked.
"Not just live," he said guiding her to his work shop. He activated a holographic display which showed a small blue planet in a system of nine around a star. "He will flourish."
"That star Jor, its yellow." Kara pointed out.
"Yes, that and many other aspects of the planet will have incredible effects on him."
"Like what?" she asked.
"Well their gravity is a great deal lower than ours is. Thus he will be very strong, and his bones will be virtually unbreakable as our atmospheric pressure is greater than it is on this planet. Also our bodies metabolize light, and the yellow light will raise his metabolism, giving him incredible speed. Also just being in the different light spectrums will give him a broader spectrum than the inhabitants. His X-ray vision will seem extraordinary and actually enable him to see through solid objects. Also his infrared vision will in fact emit infrared rays, heat beams Kara."
"Well it seems that I have chosen the appropriate name for our boy then," said Kara sadly.
"What name have you given him?" he asked.
"Kal El," he responded thinking of the life growing within her. "It is from the old language. El, your last name means 'Man' or 'One who is' and Kal means 'Great' or 'Super'."
Over the next twelve earth months, Jor worked night and day to finish his son's ship. Kara, who was a linguist and a personal device programmer, built the 'note to pin to his baby blanket' so to speak. She gave birth in the twelfth month, a healthy baby boy. He was slightly premature for a Kryptonian child, but healthy none the less.
Two months later was the day. The lay little Kal in his ship and both parents kissed him farewell as they wept. They had waited for the last possible moment to send him so that the government would not force the ship back down. They held each close and felt the rumbling begin.
"I'm scared Jor!" Kara yelled over the rumblings.
"Me too Kara, me too." Jor held his wife close. They had been married since they were only children. For years they had struggled to make their marriage work, and truly were in love. But their lives were snuffed out as their world died in a terrific explosion that no one would ever hear.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TWO YEARS LATER
"Hey Jonathan!" yelled Hiram Lang.
"Hiram!" Jonathan Kent called back, "How the hell are ya?"
"I'm good, I'm moving back to Smallville." Hiram beamed as he announced his return to Kansas.
"Really?!" Jonathan was overjoyed at the idea of his childhood friend returning to the town that Jonathan had never left.
"Yep, Kim and I decided that the city was no place to raise our daughter." Hiram's grin spread from ear to ear in a wide grin.
"You have a daughter?!" Jonathan yelled.
"Yep, Lana. She was born last spring.
"Congratulations!" Jonathan yelled as he shook his friend's hand. Jonathan Kent was a kind and friendly man that almost the entire town of Smallville, some five hundred, counted as a friend. He lent his strength where he could and his wisdom where he thought it fit.
"How about you and Martha?" he asked happily, expecting Jonathan to have mess of children.
"How about Jonathan and me what?" asked Martha as she came up to her husband's side.
"Honey, this is my old friend I told you about Hiram Lang. He and his wife are moving back to Smallville with their little girl."
"I was just asking about how many children you two had," explained Hiram.
"Er . . . I think I need to go check on June," Martha said uncomfortable and left.
Hiram looked at her confused. Jonathan explained, "She can't have children. We tried for years, but . . . nothing. She is ashamed for some reason. I gotta go, Lot to do today. Sorry." Jonathan bid his friend farewell and got into his truck with his wife.
They pulled up to his farm and greeted his loyal farm hand, Mac Ross. Mac was also blessed with a child, a boy named Pete. It was this very afternoon that the lives of those on the Kent farm were changed forever.
It sounded like a clap of thunder. Then they noticed the falling star. It crashed loudly in the field, thowing a wave of burned cornstalks at them. As they made their way toward the smoldering crater there was no talking. The reached the rim and looked in. the ship looked like an egg for the most part with a pentagon jutting out around the edge. There seemed to be a top witch was made of glass. The glass was shattered and littered the crater.
"Oh god!" Martha cried as she saw what appeared to be a baby boy. She rushed down into the bottom of the crater and swept up the child, brushing the glass off of him. "What in god's name is going on?" she asked of her husband.
"Martha . . . I just don't know . . ." he said.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TWELVE YEARS LATER
The young boy found in the crater by the lonely family was taken in and loved so much. He was named Clark, for Martha's maiden name. he was informally adopted. Three days later a tornado ripped through the town and in the chaos the little boys sudden appearance was not so unexpected. In the rubble of the crash site the Kent's and Ross' found many things, among them a small sphere the color of a cloud. When he was ten, they told him of his true origin. A year later, he told his best friend Pete Ross.
He grew up so loved, that he was never in a fight. Hit; yes, insulted; yes, a social out cast; yes, but he never fought. He was a truly innocent soul. He was the epitome of the naïve farm boy. His gifts had been extremely useful in running the farm. But there were always a few things that could not be controlled. Idiots will always be among those things.
A girl in town had been murdered. The only description of the killer had been "black". The most prominent black person in town was Mac. He had disappeared early one Sunday. June, his wife and Martha's best friend, Jonathan, Martha, Pete and Clark all went out looking for him. It was Clark that found him.
It was in a clearing where an old church had stood. Long before Clark had arrived the church had burnt down. Now the local Klan used it as a meeting place. This was a public secret that the entire town of Smallville knew, but usually they were harmless drunks, so no one cared. As Clark came upon the clearing, he saw a large bon fire burning itself out. There were no white sheets left in the clearing, but there was a person there. Mac lay on the ground. Clark zipped up to him, using his superspeed.
"Mr. Clark?" Mac asked. He had addressed all of the Kent's like this since he had first started working on the farm. He had always been quite subservient, despite being, apparently, the strongest person in Smallville.
"Mac! Are you okay?" he Clark begged.
"No sir Mr. Clark. I think I need a doctor."
Clark clenched his fist "I'll kill those jerks!"
"No!" Mac said and grabbed his wrist tightly. "You to good for that! You got a good soul."
"But they can't do what they did!" he said, through tears.
"You kill them you no better than them. . ." he coughed for a moment and blood came out. "Your soul don't need that. The world need you the way you are . . . good."
It was an hour later on the trip to the emergency room that Mac died. The Klansmen were never arrested. Clark however always remembered that night. That night was the night he learned the difference between justice and vengeance.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!
EIGHT YEARS LATER
Clark grew up to learn to use knowledge as a weapon. He had exposed racists in the town government using his high school newspaper, and won himself a full scholarship to NYU and an internship at the Daily Bugle. He was only working in the mailroom for now, but he was on the way. He was so happy.
He had also decided, without his parents permission, to become a costume. He had had his girlfriend, Lana, design his uniform. It was red, yellow, and blue camouflage, with a tight Kevlar T-Shirt bearing the same symbol that was found in his ship. It resembled an "S" inside of an inverted pentagon. He had shoulder pads, elbow pads, and knee pads, all bore the same symbol as his chest. On his face he wore a blue helmet with a yellow visor.
His first day out he flew around and found a mugger but was right in the middle of trussing up two muggers in a street light, when he was tapped on the shoulder. He turned around and saw no one, that's when the voice said, "Hey, fashion statement, up here." He looked up and his eyes widened.
"Spider-Man!" he yelped. He pulled from a pocket Lana had sewed in, a note book. "Can I get your autograph?" he asked excitedly.
Spider-Man looked at him skeptically, and at the notepad. "You're joking right?"
"Um, no?" Clark said.
"Let me get this straight; you, a costume, want my autograph?"
"You bet!" Clark said.
"Let me guess; just off the bus from Kansas?"
"Erm . . . more or less, howdya guess?"
Spider-Man shook his head sadly, "The accent, the . . . I think the word is naïveté. Although, I gotta admit, this is the best costume one of us has ever worn. Did you get one of the Fab four on this thing?"
"Um, well sorta . . . I got friend in design."
"Yeah . . . They just sling out union cards to everyone in odd colors these days don't they?"
"heh, well at least I bring things to the table don't I?" he gesturing to the criminals trussed up in the street light.
"Nice, is that and flying your only talents? Maybe a hyper-cornshucking power? Let me guess super cow milking?"
Clark gave him a side long look, "You know I could set your head on fire by looking at it, or look through your mask."
"Point taken. But what do you call yourself?"
"I'm Super-Man!" he said proudly.
Spidey chortled, the snorted, the accidently let go of his webbing and fell to the ground laughing. The criminals in the streetlamp were also laughing. Once Spidey composed himself he chuckled out, "That's the best you got!"
"It means something to me! It's the name my birth parents gave me!"
Spidey stopped dead. "Sorry. I know what parents birth parents can mean."
Thus began the illustrious career of a legend.