Every time this happened, Clark was never quite sure if this would be the time someone figured it out.
He'd been talking with Lois when she'd gasped, at the same time his ears picked up a quiet 'thump'. And he'd turned around to see that little girl Lena being dragged into an ice cream truck of all things by... well, he didn't think the others could see it, but there was something not right about that man.
A quick shout of "I'll call the police!" and dashing off in the museum, and he'd been given the precious moments he needed to stash his work clothes and reveal the costume beneath. Surely someone would have figured out by now that Clark Kent disappeared every time Superman showed up?
Maybe they just thought Clark Kent a coward, who'd flee in terror from every situation that needed Superman in the first place. But Clark Kent knew otherwise, and that was enough for him. Like a speeding bullet, he shot out from one of the museum's windows, having to grin and bear the brief electrocution it gave him.
...Okay, maybe it had resulted in him going "Ow!" and taking his hands off the pane, but it was just a deterrent- and Clark was never deterred when someone needed him.
So neither was Superman.
Changing his angle to make it look like he'd flown in from across the city, Clark charged the ice cream van. It was already on the road- he'd heard it starting up from inside the building. And its driver was driving like crazy. But he was on its trail, and no matter how pedal-to-the-metal it got, it certainly wasn't a machine that could outpace him.
He maneuvered, trying to match its speed even as it swerved violently to shake him off. Other cars swerved to avoid the mad driver, but he heard no sounds of crashes behind him- they'd be fine on their own. He swooped low, moving under the car- and in two hands, raised it onto his back.
Then he raised it up into the sky. "I don't know who you are," he said, loud enough to be heard through the muffling of the van atop him, "but I know I'm not letting you kidnap that girl."
He heard a deep booming laugh. The man replied- "Oh, I knew that already!" And then, one hand firmly gripping the side of the open window, he jumped out of the van and swung around to meet Superman head-on.
Clark gasped as he was kicked in the face by a pair of studded boots. Who in their right mind would jump out of a vehicle in midair to attack the guy holding it up!?
But however crazy it was, it was working- the man grabbed him by the throat, grinning madly as he did (and were those shark teeth?). Then he threw a punch in his face- and satisfied with the grunt of pain it produced, cackled as he did it again. "What's the matter, Superman?" he hooted. "Feeling a little weighed down!?"
Clark ran through his options as the fist repeatedly slammed into his face. If he tried to kick the man off, he could unbalance the van- and he'd have to catch him as he fell. And it'd rock the van, which he didn't want to do when there was a child inside. But heat vision could work- kept low-power, it would be painful enough to make him let go without doing any real damage. He knew what to do.
He swooped down low towards an empty-looking road, slowing down. Then he called up the heat behind his eyes- and released it in a quick blast. "Ouch!" the man shouted- "Damn you, that hurt!" But he didn't let go, and landed another blow.
"Language," Clark automatically chided. If that didn't work, he'd need to try again- Less power, more time, he decided. He fired again- but was rewarded only with being hit harder, even as he was forced to stop by the way the target patch of skin seemed to be crisping up nicely rather than convincing him to let go.
The man pulled his hand back- but this time, didn't ball it into a fist. "If you're gonna keep doing that," he snarled, angry now, "I'm gonna have to take your heat vision away from ya!" He jabbed his fingers forwards towards his eyes.
Clark reacted instinctively- he let go of the van and thrust his arms out, throwing the man down onto the street. He felt the van start to slip- and stuck his legs out behind him, using them to balance it. It stayed stable- just. And suddenly, he thought, I wonder why I didn't just do this in the first place.
He slipped forwards as he approached the ground, grabbing the front of the ice cream truck as he gently placed it down. Then he turned to the man who must have stolen it, letting his cape flutter in the wind as he stared down disappointedly. "I'm not going to ask again," he warned sternly. "You can't beat me. Surrender."
The crazed man smiled. Now that he was on the ground, Clark could pick out what had made him so offputting. The way his throat bulged oddly, the slight mucousness of his skin. How his torso and abdomen seemed disproportionate to each other, the realisation that his feet were chitinous claws- that he hadn't been wearing studded shoes- and, most of all, the insanity in his eyes.
Superman justknew this would only end with a beatdown.
The man spat something- and Clark dodged to the side. His expression remained flat as he briefly turned towards the wall it had hid, but he was suddenly a lot more concerned about the fight when he saw the concrete hissing and bubbling. Sure, explosions and bullets were something he could deal with. Fire, too. Electricity? Certainly painful, but not going to cause long-term damage.
Acid, however... It wasn't exactly something he'd been up against before. And he had no interest in finding out if chemicals could burn what heat couldn't.
The man spat again, and he thrust himself forwards, dodging under the projectile and throwing a fist at the man's gut. The man staggered backwards from the force, but clearly conventional punching strength was too little. "Is that all you can do!?" he shouted incredulously. "C'mon, I know you can do better than that!"
"Gladly." Superman let another punch hit him in the chest, setting him up to be in the perfect position as he obliged. He threw another one, stronger this time- proportionally, at least, since this time he was aiming for the face. The crazed man rolled back, spitting out a tooth shaped more like what he used to cut pizza than anything human.
The man vomited again- this time, though, he spat a whole volley. Clark dodged it with ease- and turning around, he saw nothing structural being eaten away by the hissing liquid. But when he looked back, there was something... different about the man- more skeletal. The muscles were still there, but more... defined, somehow.
Was he losing fluids? he questioned internally. Is this putting him in danger?
Another acid spit dodged. "Stand still!" the man cried angrily- his voice was hoarse, and now Clark could see the bones under his skin with his bare eyes. He had to put a stop to this, and fast.
With a cry, he charged forwards and slammed a fist into the man's chest. His target was flung back into a wall, cracking it- and Clark charged again with his own volley of follow-up strikes, ratcheting up the force until he felt bones creaking beneath each blow. Then he grabbed the man by the cuff of his stolen shirt and threw him- he hit a car, denting the metal and leaving him dazed into stillness.
He walked slowly towards him. "I think that's you down for the count," he said. "Come along quietly- you can sure try and keep causing trouble, but there's no point. You've been beaten."
Superman paused when he heard the man starting to chuckle. "Oh no, Superman," he said slowly. "You're missing a Vital piece of information."
He could hear the capital letter.Is that...Did he really choose something that bad? he questioned. And why would anyone use a 'supervillain name' outside of Gotham? But regardless of Clark Kent's opinions, Superman was a hero- he couldn't voice his opinions right now.
Then he heard something crackle behind him, and his thoughts were interrupted.
"I knew I'd miss," the supervillain explained. "Which was why I was aiming at the building behind you."
Clark's eyes flicked from the ice cream van to the apartment building- the acid had eaten through to the wires behind the concrete, and had ignited. Soon the whole building would go with it. He had precious little time to spare before the apartment situation turned urgent.
He went for the truck. That situation was already urgent- he wasn't leaving the kid down here, even if he did suspect she was the same girl as the one in the rocket ship and the yellow cape a few weeks ago. He'd beaten this 'Vital' guy already- no need to do anything with him other than warn the police about acid.
He found himself blindsided when he was suddenly tackled from the side, leaving him flying into his target hard enough to leave a dent in the metal frame.
The man- Vital, if that was what he really wanted to go by- was, somehow, already up. He grinned savagely- and Clark could see the tooth he'd knocked out, grown back already. The burn from his heat vision was gone, too. "You regenerate," he stated, frowning. But he heard movement from inside the van- it sounded like Lena was moving again. Good- she was independent enough to get out, as long as the supervillain was kept at bay.
"But I don't think the people in those buildings do~" 'Vital' singsonged, pointing up at the growing flames above. "Hurry up Superman! They're counting on you!"
He came to a decision- he grabbed the man by the throat, and flew him up to where the lowest acid had struck. "I think I will hurry up, then," he said- and slammed him into the space where the burning wires were exposed.
The man spasmed in his hands, and after a brief moment Superman let him drop.He'll get better, he thought. The man hit the ground, and Superman heard a few wet cracking sounds the moment he did- but his heartbeat was still going strong and his breathing was fine, if pained. He went for the building.
He started with the outside. It was an electrical fire, water wouldn't help. Frowning, he looked down at the ground, and then through it- and found a suitable spot for what he was thinking of. It was just big enough, just enough ground that wasn't ran through with pipes or wires.
Spinning, he shattered the street- as limited as he could, of course, but the city could afford road repairs more than it could afford loss of life. The world slowed down around him as he grabbed the soil beneath, handful by handful, and threw it- to an outside observer it would look as if he was simply flinging outwards and upwards like a tornado.
Then something sharp landed on him from above. He had to fling that in a different direction.
"Don't you know when to quit?" Clark demanded, levitating out of the hole- he'd delayed the fire, kept open the fire exits, but he wouldn't be done until the fires were out, the kid was safe and this guy was down.
That was when he saw that Vital had tried to stab him with his finger bones, which Clark could see were sticking out through the flesh of his fingers, sharp like claws.I should really stop being surprised by now. "You think you can stop me!?" he cried. "You'll have to kill me first! I'll never stop! Never!" He laughed again.
The urge to facepalm was narrowly resisted. He was starting to get an idea of what this guy was like- clever, sure; tactical, somewhat. Crazy, definitely. But he certainly wasn't a good fighter. "This is getting ridiculous," said Clark. "You can't stop me, either. Stand. Down."
The man laughed again, shaking his head- but Clark looked to the side at a growing noise. The supervillain looked that way too, and his eyes widened.
Then a somewhat classy blue car driven by a man with no face hit the mutated man with a wet crunch. Superman swore the guy was giving him a thumbs up before the airbag smothered him and he launched himself forwards to help.