"The Reason"

Part 4 of 4

by Steave

"Why do you do it? Why?"

The Arabian man began to tremble, but quickly stiffened, and began to speak.

"Your people," he nodded to the Daily Planet, "and your news, always portrays as something we are not. We are not killers, we are human beings, like your country."

"Then stop acting like a killer."

"What?"

"What the U.S. has done in descriminating your people is wrong, yes, but all you have shown me is that you are like all of those people you hear about in the newspapers and on television. Be yourself and stop showing us that all you do is kill. What you have done today hasn't helped your country's reputation one bit."

"But we are tired of your country and people telling everyone else that we are killers when we are not."

"Then stop acting like killers. All you have done is made yourself into what the press has showed of your people. I know that you aren't all killers. But when you allow yourself to become one, what else are we supposed to think?"

The man was silenced, obviously, the thought had never crossed his mind.

"I know you are a good person, and I know that you are tired of all of the bad press and descrimination. But do something else other than blowing things up to tell America differently."

"Well, there's no chance for that now, now I'm just going to prison."

Kal stood in thought, and came to a sudden realization.

"You deserve a second chance. Your nation deserves a second chance. But if yours does, so does ours. I want you to tell your people to stop pretending to be something they are not and start being what they are. You are all good people, and so are we."

Superman set the man on the ground and tears were streaming from his eyes. The man did all he could think of, embrace the Man of Steel.

Superman, startled at first, wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation, then, he hugged him back. He had never felt like this before, like he had truly made a difference. The feeling was overwhelming, and he knew it was right.

He took a few steps back and put his arm around the man's shoulder, "Come on. Lets get you home."

--

He was home, finally. The trip had been surprisingly short and awe-inspiring. Seeing all of the people from the skies, being cheered along the way, this was what he had wanted. Even when they reached Afghanistan, his home country, all of the sorrow was washed away.

The god-like man set him down in one of the central streets of Kabul. With a wave and a salute to the people, he was off, back towards the sun.

"Who was that?" A little boy asked him.

"Superman . . . his name is Superman."

--

He returned to Metropolis, the city looked so beautiful in the night. All of the lights and neon, it reminded him of visions of home. But this was his home now, forever and ever.

She knew that he would be back, and she was still waiting for him on the roof. He swelled with love and endearment, she was one in a million.

"I knew you would be back."

"Didn't want to leave you with just two sentences."

"Who . . . who are you?"

"Aren't those questions supposed to be answered tomorrow?"

"Oh . . . right."

He could see the disappointment in her.

"Where will you be?"

"Oh, well, where do you want me to interview you?"

"How about at your place?"

"Do you know where it is?"

"I'll find it."

"Well . . . until then I guess."

"Until then . . ."

She began to turn away and then he walked towards her. Hearing his footsteps, she anxiously turned towards him.

"Yes?"

"I, I never got your name?"

"Lois . . . Lois Lane."

"Goodnight Lois."

"Goodnight . . ."

He flew off into the night, and she finished, " . . . Superman."

--

The plane landed an hour after scheduled . . . he was in every bit of the word, agitated.

He had been gone for four years, business, as it were. Metropolis would welcome him home, the mayor, the people, the Planet.

Ah, the Planet, and the ever astonishing Lois Lane. He hadn't forgotten her and her unwavering spirit, and questions to match. The woman was the face of the Planet, and that was a very nice face.

The airport was quiet and empty, just as he liked it. No one to welcome him home or ask their questions . . . yet. He passed a T.V. in one of the concession stands and stopped. The footage was that of a man, or what looked like a man in a red cape and blue outfit rescuing a falling helicopter while the crowd and mass of people under him cheered on.

He removed his hat and stroked his bald head, muttering to himself.

"Interesting . . . this is most interesting . . ."

THE END

This issue is dedicated to the U.S. military and to all of you who have family, and friends over seas. They are loved and missed. Alex, this one is for you buddy.