Five days ago…

There were five fire engines in front of the building. Eight Metropolis Police Department vehicles behind them and four Ambulances. Nearly three dozen police officers and more than sixty fire men. Then there were the news crews. Every major network had sent out a representative and camera and technical crew. Every newspaper sent out a reporter and photographer. The television stations and newspaper reporters combined had the city servants outnumbered by two to one.

Lastly, there were the spectators. Everyone from simple passerby's, to evacuated residents of the nearby tenements, to people who lived blocks away, but wanted to see what all the commotion was about. That… and the smoke and fire.

The building was a four story brownstone. It sat in a row of similar structures in what was considered on of the nicer sides of Lower Metropolis; other wise known as "Suicide Slums". This particular block of buildings was the first in a renovation project that included more than twelve blocks and three square miles.

A private corporation, "Renue Enterprises", not surprisingly a subsidiary of "LexCorp", had purchased the entire block a little over a year ago, and had sunk a fortune in renovations, upgrades, and remodeling, all in hopes of turning one of Metropolis' least desirable neighborhoods, into one of its most expensive and lavish.

Now, one of its crown jewel "flips" was being engulfed by a four alarm fire.

The first two floors were completely engulfed. Flames poured out of every window. The third and fourth floors were nearly invisible behind the mask of black smoke the raced into the night sky. The double-door entrance had been blown open by a small explosion earlier, and the lobby was bathed in crimson and yellow flickering light, flames dancing about wildly. Even as four sets of firemen unleashed an onslaught of water into the heart of the building, the fire persisted, set on nothing less than the utter consumption of all in its path.

The crowd of onlookers watched in both awe and fright. They watched as firemen raced this way and that. They watched thousands of pounds of water and retardant being pumped into the inferno. They watched medical crews place oxygen masks over faces and blankets over the shoulders of the residents of not only this building, but the two neighboring structures as well. They watched, oblivious to the two people now pushing their way to the front of the crowd where the police barricade had been erected.

Lois Lane was a woman of average height and build. Five feet, four inches, and one hundred and twenty-six pounds of pure, unmitigated tenacity. Her hair was black and had recently been cut short; just above her shoulders. The style suited her oval face, and made her blue-grey eyes seem all the brighter, and at times, all the more intense; but she liked it more for its manageability than for its style. Lois often found herself in situations where having to deal with a head full of hair, while say, dodging bullets, clamoring through city sewers, or taking refuge from an alien invasion, was less than ideal. Often, they were situations she dived head-long into, usually in the hopes of capturing her next Pulitzer Price winning news article. But, on more than a few occasions, she found herself the target of some evil megalomaniacs scheme, or some nuts desire for revenge.

Yes, short hair was definitely the way to go.

She was wearing a black cocktail dress; an elegant euro-style design with thin spaghetti straps, tasteful neck line, and a "V" shaped back. The dress was cut a little high for her taste, but Clark, her husband, had commented on how amazing her legs looked, and considering all the jogging and exercise she did, she should show them off once in awhile. She looked at her husband; a man of six feet, four inches, a lean and unnaturally muscular two hundred and twenty-five pounds. His hair was styled so that it usually fell forward, almost like bangs, and often threatened to cover his perfectly crystal blue eyes. That didn't matter usually; the glasses he almost always wore did a decent job of hiding them anyway. He was wearing an Italian styled suit, dark blue with a black silk tie that complimented her dress. It had been tailored to his exact measurements and fit like a glove. It showed off his broad shoulders, his wide chest, his slim waist, his muscular arms, his long, powerful legs, not to mention one of Lois' favorite "assets". And while she preferred seeing him in his other "suit", she had to admit that tonight, he looked absolutely delicious.

She submitted to her husbands request, threw on the new pair of black pumps she had purchased for just the occasion, and off they went.

Or at least, that was the plan. They were at the cocktail party for little more than half an hour when she kept noticing her husband starring intently at one of the far walls, a habit of his. She had spent enough time with him to know that he wasn't really looking at the wall… but through it.

Her husband, Clark Kent, was indeed earths greatest hero, Superman. And his x-ray vision, super-hearing, and telescopic vision were often the cause of many nights out on the town coming to a quick, abrupt end.

Tonight was no exception.

She had pulled him to the side and asked him what the problem was, expecting some evil menace, some alien plot, or some giant monster to be rampaging through downtown Metropolis. In fact, she was slightly disappointed that it was only a fire.

Nevertheless, she was having a less than stellar time, and realized she had the perfect excuse to leave. Not to mention that it gave her the chance to catch a story for tomorrows paper.

So here they were, standing at the police barricade, a four story building burning less than a hundred yards away.

Lois spotted a man standing near on of the closest fire engines, and shouted out to him.

"Chief Jensen! Lois Lane, Daily Planet. I was hoping to get a word…" She fished a small audio recording device out of her small black handbag.

The Fire Chief looked her way, acknowledged her with a nod, then said something to the man he was speaking to before heading towards her. Lois smiled and spared a glance back to her husband. He had eyes only for the burning building. Lois knew instantly that he was looking at it with his x-ray vision; searching for anyone that may be trapped inside, structural stress points that may be about to go; anything that might require his "personal attention".

"Miss Lane. " Chief Jensen offered as he approached. "What brings the Planets best reporter out to a simple fire."

"I was in the neighborhood, and it's Mrs. Lane-Kent, now. This is my husband Clark."

Chief Jensen eyed the taller man. He offered his hand. "Fire Chief Mario Jensen. It's a pleasure to meet the man that's crazy enough to marry Lois." Clark took the hand and shook it without ever taking his eyes off the building.

"Chief?" Clark asked, still eyeing the building. "Your men haven't finished searching the building, have they?" he asked.

"They should be heading out any minute. We got four floors. Three units per. Two are vacant. So far, all occupants are accounted for, save for the landlord and his wife, a couple that lives on the second floor, and an elderly lady on the top. The residents that we evacuated say that she hasn't been home for weeks. They think she may be on vacation or something. "

"Maybe you should have your men double check." Clark suggested. "You don't want to miss anyone."

Jensen tilted his hat up and looked at Clark through narrow eyes. "Kent right?" His tone made Clark look at him for the first time.

"Yes." Clark answered.

"You a reporter at the 'Planet' as well?" Jensen asked.

"That's right."

"Well," Jensen began. "When you become a firefighter, serve for twenty eight years, and make it to Fire Chief, feel free to tell me how to do my job. Until then, keep writing your little stories!"

"Mr. Jensen," Clark replied, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "I meant no disrespect. I just think that it might be a good idea to double check… just to be sure…"

"That's Chief Jensen!" the smaller man spat. "And when I want to hear your ideas, I'll let you know!"

"Chief, it couldn't hurt to take another look." Lois added, her tone pleading, but stern at the same time.

"When my men come down and give the all clear, we're going to put every effort into getting this fire under control before the entire block goes up. I'm not about to send them back into a deteriorating situation just because your husband thinks it's a good idea."

"But Chief," Lois pleaded.

"End of story Lane!" Jensen spat. "Now, if you want to stay and watch, that's fine. But you," he turned his eyes to Clark. "Or your husband try to start telling me or my people how to do our jobs, I'll have the nearest uniform kindly escort the both of you to your vehicle. Am I clear?"

Neither Lois nor Clark responded. Jensen took their silence as submission, brusquely turned and walked back to the rear of the fire engine.

As soon as she was sure he was out of ear shot, Lois turned to her husband. "What is it?" she asked.

Clark eyes were back on the building when he answered. "She's up there; top floor, apartment on the left, in the bedroom. The firemen kicked in her door and yelled out, but she didn't answer. Asleep maybe…"

"You better get moving then." Lois

Clark was already pushing his way back through the crowd when she called out to him.

"I'll meet you at the car." she shouted. She was lying, of course. But her hope was that no one in the crowd would notice her husband leaving, right before Superman was arriving. That they would think that her husband, Clark Kent, was waiting for his wife at the car, and that Superman just happened to be flying by.

And sure enough, mere moments later, a blue and red streak was racing through the sky towards the burning building. People in the crowd shouted. Some cheered. Some outright screamed up at him.

He didn't slow or pause, rather flew straight into the building. Literally. He smashed through the top floor of the structure, small bits of rock, concrete and wood exploding out in his wake. A moment later, he was flying out.

In his arms, he held the small, frail body of an elderly woman, who was unconscious and didn't seem to be breathing.

Superman floated gently to the ground and laid the woman on the street.

A hush fell over the crowd of onlookers. Even the firemen, who a moment ago were racing back and forth frantically, all seemed to stop what they were doing and watch intently.

Superman tilted the woman's head back, opened her mouth slightly with his thumb and finger, and lean forward. His lips enveloped hers, and he exhaled ever so gently. He pulled away for a second, and repeated his actions.

He pulled away again, and placed his finger on the woman's chest, and pressed down tens times in succession. He then leaned forward, enveloping her mouth once again, and blew.

The woman coughed, her body convulsed, and she coughed again, this time taking in long, ragged, deep breaths of air.

The crowd roared to life.

Were a second ago, you could hear a pin drop, even among the sound of the roaring flames, now the night was electric with cheers and yells of "Way to go Superman!" and "He saved her!" Thunderous cheers and applause erupted into the air.

The elderly woman blinked up at him as she coughed air back into her lungs. When she could breathe normally, she looked up at the man kneeling over her. She blinked once. Twice.

"I'm not dead am I?" she asked.

"No ma'am." Superman replied. "You're going to be alright."

"Figures." she replied, rolling her eyes. "Didn't think heaven had angels this beautiful."

Superman smiled, and she smiled back. He leaned forward and scooped her into his arms.

"This woman needs medical attention." His voice said clearly.

A team of EMT's wheeled over a gurney and Superman placed the woman gently on top of it. They covered her with blankets and immediately began checking her vitals and what not.

Chief Jensen walked up to Superman then. "What the hell you all standing around for!?" he barked at the firefighters, many of who were still standing and ogling. They snapped to at his command and hurriedly went back to what they were doing.

"Appreciate the assist, Superman." He held out his hand. Superman took it, but didn't smile.

"Just glad I could help. I'd hate to think what would have happened to that poor woman if I wasn't here. But I'm sure you would have had your men double check the building."

Jensen grimaced slightly. "I was just about to send in the order when you showed up; still gonna send another team in to make sure the coast is clear."

"The buildings empty chief." Superman said turning back to the burning structure.

"How can you be…" Jensen began. "Oh yeah; x-ray vision right?"

"That's right." Superman answered nonchalantly. He checked each floor, each apartment, each room. He didn't see anyone one in any of the buildings four floors.

Superman frowned.

"What is it?" Jensen asked intently. "Someone trapped inside?"

"No." Superman answered slowly. "I'm just having a hard time with the buildings foundation. It's must be made of lead."

"A lot of theses old buildings have lead foundations. It's more expensive than concrete, but these were made to last. I'm willing to bet half the brownstones on the block got at least two feet of lead beneath them."

Superman looked up and then down the street, and true enough, in most of the buildings, the foundations were impossible to see through.

He frowned again, but dismissed it.

"So what's the plan?" he asked the Chief.

"Well…" Jensen hesitated. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

Superman was still looking at the building, his eyes narrow.

"The main support beams are lead as well. They run the height of the building. There's no danger of them going… yet. The neighboring apartments are less then ten feet away. We need to get this fire out before it jumps to either side. Because of the proximity to the other buildings, I can't 'blow' it out. It may cause damage to the other properties."

Superman was quiet for a moment, and then tilted his head to one side slightly.

"Chief, tell all of your men to get as far back from the building as possible; at least fifty yards. Tell them to make sure they secure all their equipment and gear, anything small, any loose articles. Yell when everyone's secure!"

And without any further explanation, Superman flew into the second floor of the building.

Jensen stood there for a moment, puzzled. Then he decided to do as he was told.

"Alright, boys!" he shouted. "Save 'em and pack 'em! Get everyone back fifty yards or better. Secure anything not attached! C'mon! Move it!"

The men reacted instantly, unsure of why they were being told to abandon the fight against a raging inferno: a fire that threatened to destroy the entire block. All they knew for certain was that Superman was here, and everything would be alright!

Jet streams of water and fire retardant chemicals were abruptly cut. Fire hoses were quickly rolled up and carried away. Fire ladders descended and retracted. Police ordered civilians back. EMT's led blanket draped victims either into either emergency vehicles, or a little further away from the blaze. Video Cameras were held steady on the burning building. Digital cameras were held as steady as sniper rifles, patiently waiting the right moment, the perfect shot.

The last of the fire crew made his way to the area the fire chief had determined the minimal safe distance, as Superman had instructed. Once satisfied the area was clear of all his people, Jensen called out.

"All clear, Superman!"

A hush fell over the crowd. No one spoke. No one moved. All eyes were on the burning building.

The interior of the building was designed in a classic style. The center of the structure was a wide open space that reached from the lobby to the roof, a wide glass skylight at the top. The lobby itself was very open and airy. The floor was tiled marble, an intricate pattern crisscrossing the span of the lobby. There was a wall full of mail boxes immediately to the left as you entered through the large double door façade. A few yards away stood the large oak door to the manager's office. Fifteen feet past that was a second door that ran into the adjoined apartment. Two large columns, the buildings main supports, ran up to the roof, a set of matching loveseats, arm chairs, end tables, and a large rectangular coffee table sat between them. There was a wide staircase that ran along the right side of the wall and up to the second floor landing. A similar staircase ran along the left side going up to the third floor, and then along the right again up to the fourth. It was designed so that when someone went all the way up or down, via the stairs, they had to walk the entire circumference of the lobby as they did.

Superman imagined that it was done intentionally, primarily to showcase the intricate design detail in the columns, rails, moldings, and art that adorned the walls on every landing. There were also plants and various sculptures tastefully placed about the lobby and on every landing. It all helped to convey a sense of luxury and elegance.

And it was all destroyed now.

Plants and paintings burned. Sculptures had cracked and crumbled from the sheering heat. The lobby furniture was completely engulfed, the leather burning slowly, but determined.

The entire lobby was bathed in crimson and golden hues. The second floor was much the same, save for the plumes of black smoke that snaked into the air and blanketed the third and fourth floors. Water dripped from almost everywhere and instantly turned to steam as it hit the fire. The air was hot, the oxygen all but gone. Only smoke and carbon dioxide remained.

Superman was glad he could hold his breath as long as he could.

Not that breathing in the toxic fumes would harm him. His super-power lungs would easily filter out any toxins and quickly expel them from his body. No… the truth was, in a few moments, there would be no air at all.

Superman hovered in the open area between the second and third floors. Flames harmlessly licked at his cape, his boots, his arms and legs. He could feel the heat; he could even tell that it had already reached more than five hundred degrees. But there was no pain. Not even the slightest discomfort. To him, there was little difference between being at the heart of a raging fire, and sitting in the park on a warm sunny day.

He scanned the building again. It was empty, save for him. The units on the first two floors were nearly completely engulfed in flames. His x-ray vision showed him burning beds and sofas. Televisions sparked and melted. Clothes turned to ash while still on the hanger. Family portraits, keepsakes, toys, teddy bears, even a bassinet… it all burned.

Superman frowned. He felt a momentary sensation of helplessness. He could, and would put out the fire. He was going to save the building, as well as all the other buildings on the block the fire threatened to destroy if left unchecked. But he knew in his heart that a home was more than the walls and floors and ceiling. It was more than brick and mortar, more than steel and concrete. It was the things on shelves and on walls. It was the blankets on beds and the clothes in closets. It was the things that made you feel safe and secure, warm and cozy.

All those things were well beyond Superman's ability to save. The building, on the other hand…

Superman completed his scan of the building. He looked at the floor and frowned. "Lead…" he thought. "Who builds a foundation out of lead?" He sighed. There was something about the floor that he didn't like. Something that didn't sit well in his gut. Still…

He spread his arms wide at his sides, his body forming a "T" shape. His hands were flat and his fingers were straight. For a moment, he simply hovered there. Then, slowly at first, he began to rotate; one hundred and eighty degrees… three hundred and sixty… seven-twenty, twelve eighty. And with every moment that passed, the speed of his revolutions increased exponentially. Within seconds, he went from floating, as still as a statue, to a blur of crimson and blue hues! And still, his speed increased.

When he reached roughly ten thousand RPM's, the environment around him began to respond to his movements. The air blew out away from him, like a fan. The smoke drifted away from him quickly. The fire was pushed away from him as well, retreating against the walls, climbing up towards the ceiling and the air that was left.

And still his speed increased.

At twenty thousand RPM's, everything around him seemed to pause. For the briefest moment, the flames, the smoke, the very air; it all just stopped. It was as if someone had frozen time, and the only thing that moved was the blue and red blur in the center of it all.

And still, his speed increased.

Time unfroze, and chaos followed.

First, there was a loud "POP", audible even over the roaring fire. Superman's speed had created a vacuum inside the entire building; the air that was previously pushed away now rushed towards him in earnest. And where the air went, the fire followed.

Flames leapt towards him from the floor and walls; were pulled from the furniture, plants and appliances, snaked through every doorway, hole and vent. Ash and dust joined in, as well as thick black smoke. It all joined together and enveloped Superman completely. The blur of red and blue was now a huge ball of crimson flame, black smoke, and ash; a ball the grew in size and intensity with every moment that passed; grew with every flicker of flame that joined; grew with every plume of smoke that was sucked into the vortex.

Outside the building, the wind began to pick up. Trash and litter skipped along the ground. An empty soda can rolled with determination. Hats were pulled of heads. Long hair was whipped around. All of it was being sucked towards the building that a moment ago was a raging inferno. Now, firemen, police officers, EMT's, news reporters, television cameras, and onlookers watched an awe and astonishment as first, the flames seemed to pause, then slowly reseed. Like a flame dying in a hearth, except, unlike a fireplace, not only did the fire seem to retreat into itself, but it took the thick plumes of black smoke with it.

It was like watching a match die out… and took only half the time.

Inside the building, at the center of a ball of fire, smoke and ash nearly twelve feet in diameter, was Superman; still spinning like a top at over thirty thousand RPM's. Amazingly, he was completely aware of his environment. Even through the fire, smoke and ash, he scanned the building. Nearly all the flames had joined the swirling ball or had been extinguished from lack of oxygen. After another moment, there was nothing left burning inside the entire building!

Once confident that the building was safe from further danger, Superman slowly raised his hands over his head, still spinning at blinding speed.

And then, true to form, and faster than a speeding bullet, he shoot straight up into the sky, smashing through the remains of the sky light, a sonic boom echoing behind him. In his wake, the ball of fire morphed and shifted, transforming from a sphere, to a spiraling pillar of crimson flame and black smoke; a pillar that chased Superman skyward at amazing speed. The dark night sky was split by a line of fire that stretched a hundred feet… three hundred... half a mile.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd below.

"My God…" Fire Chief Jensen whispered in amazement.

And as the pillar grew higher and higher, it also grew thinner and thinner, until a thin crimson line of flame dissipated in the cool summer evening breeze.

All that remained was a smoldering building.

The crowd erupted in thunderous celebration. Firemen hugged one another. Police officers traded "high-fives". Newsmen announced proudly "Superman did it! He did it! Superman put out the fire and saved the building!" Digital cameras snapped picture after picture; video cameras recorded nonstop.

And ever so gently, tiny white specs began to fall from the sky.

Ash from the fire, but, from the way people danced beneath it, holding hands and singing praise, you would thought it was the first snow of Christmas.

And only then did Superman floated back down towards the earth.

The cheers doubled. The shouts tripled. The night was alive with cries of "Thank you, Superman!", "We love you, Superman!", and "Superman, you're the greatest!"

Superman simply flashed that heart melting smile, and continued down towards the fire chief. He spared a look towards Lois, who despite being his wife, despite seeing him save the world first hand more times than she could remember, still had tears in her eyes. She smiled at him and blew him a kiss.

He wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms and kiss her deeply, but he knew that it wasn't possible, at least not at the moment. Later, he would show her how much she meant to him. But now, he had to tend to the business at hand.

His feet touched the ground as gently as if he had just stepped off a porch. He walked over to the fire chief. Almost everyone on this side of the police barricade rushed to meet him, surrounding him in a throng of well wishers, fans, and people who just wanted to be able to say they stood next to Superman. Firemen, police, EMT's… all of them.

"Great job, big guy!"

"Nice work, Superman."

"That was awesome!"

"Greatest thing I ever saw…"

"So cool!"

"Amazing!"

They shook his hand and patted his back. They gave him hugs and one female EMT kissed his cheek. Jensen pushed his way through the cheering throng.

"Alright, people!" he barked. "We're still on the clock! I want three teams in that building searching for hotspots immediately." He drew closer to the man of steel. "No offense to Superman, but I don't want this thing flaring back up. EMT's! We still got people in need of attention. Get them to the hospital pronto! Officers, get that crowd dispersed. The show's over!"

Reluctantly, they did as they were told; still mumbling well wishes and congratulations to Superman as they passed. Three sets of fire fighters entered the building. EMT's went back to treating victims of smoke inhalation. Police Officers tried, in vain, to get the crowd of onlookers to return to their homes. The crowd, especially the reporters and television crews, completely ignored their request. Superman was still on the scene. The show was far from over.

Jensen drew even with him. He eyed the taller man in the blue tights and red cape. Once most of the professionals were back to their duties (and out of earshot), he spoke low and even.

"That's the damnedest thing I ever saw, Superman. Impressive. Damn impressive."

"Thank you Chief," Superman answered modestly. "I just did what I could to help."

"Well," Jensen responded dryly. "While I appreciate the assist, in the future, let's leave it to the hardworking men and women of the Metropolis Fire Department, unless you want to put them out a job."

Superman's eyes narrowed. He was really beginning not to like Fire Chief Jensen. "Of course not, Chief Jensen. Unless you need my help with anything else, I'll just get out of the way."

Jensen nodded curtly and Superman turned to leave. In fact, he was about three feet of the ground when he heard it.

Everyone else heard it a moment later.

"CHIEF! CHIEF!" a fireman yelled. "YOU BETTER COME SEE THIS!"

Superman was at the buildings double-door entrance in a blur of speed. Just in time to see the first body.

The maelstrom he created inside the buildings interior had been incredible. The gale force winds had not only served to corral the fire and smoke, but also had shifted the debris and furniture around. The fire had caused much of the buildings interior to crumble and fall apart. A bookshelf had fallen over near a desk in the manager's office. Upon their initial search and inspection, the firemen missed the small door in the floor. Superman missed it due to the fact that it was made of lead…

Now, he watched as a fireman carried a body from what could only be assumed to be the buildings basement. A firemen pushed past Superman and hastily yanked off his oxygen mask and head gear. A second later, he wretched over the side of the buildings steps.

Jensen was at his side then. "What is it son!? What's going on!?"

"Down… down in the basement…" the fireman spat and wiped his mouth.

"Basement?" Jensen breathed. "The blueprints didn't show any damn basement!" Jensen barked. He pushed past the panting fireman and drew even with Superman. He was just in time to see the second body being pulled from depths of the building.

"Oh no…" he whispered. The sound was like a fog horn in Superman's ears.

Not that he was listening. Sure, he heard him. He heard everything. He heard the sudden hush of the crowd behind him. He heard the sound of the flashbulbs from dozens of cameras. He heard the car engines of the hundreds of vehicles rolling up and down Metro Parkway, over a mile away. He heard the a couple arguing over money, about three miles away, and he heard a baby crying round five miles away.

But he wasn't listening to any of it.

There was only silence in his mind as he watched, his heart sinking, his stomach cold, as even now, a third body was being pulled from the basement.

A fireman approached Superman and the fire Chief.

"It's really bad sir…" he said, looking more at Superman than at his CO. "The fire didn't reach down there, but a lot of water got in. The whole room, all four walls, I think they're all lead. That with the heat…" The fireman looked back over his shoulder. Three bodies were laid out on the floor and being covered with blankets. "It was like giant pot down there..." the fireman continued. "A giant steam pot."

He turned back and froze. While he had just seen three bodies pulled from what was the equivalent of a steam oven, what he was saw now made a chill run down his spine and his knees buckle slightly. What he saw made him lose faith in all that was good and right in the world.

He saw Superman cry.