Merry Christmas, to one and all. Please enjoy this holiday tale; our heroic Superman stopping Lex Luthor from ruining Christmas. Thank you for reading. :-D
A blanket of snow covered Metropolis, painting the city in a festive white. The air crackled with holiday cheer, carols drifted from every storefront, and the scent of pine and cinnamon hung heavy in the air. But beneath the serene façade, Lex Luthor seethed. It was that time of year again, the time for forced merriment and saccharine sentimentality. The sight of smiling faces, the sound of carols, the very air thick with goodwill – it all filled him with a burning resentment. Why should these simpletons be happy? What had they done to deserve such joy?
He, Lex Luthor, the most brilliant mind of his generation, was denied the adoration he deserved, while this alien interloper, this Superman, basked in the city's affection. It was an injustice, a cosmic insult. And this year, Luthor would have his revenge. He would steal their joy, extinguish their lights, and show them the true meaning of Christmas – misery. He had obtained a strain of the infamous meteor rock. But raw Kryptonite wasn't enough. He needed a delivery system, something subtle, something pervasive. He'd hired a specialized technician, a shadowy figure known only as "Wraith," to modify the meteor. Wraith had devised a way to amplify and focus the Kryptonite radiation, keying it to the specific wavelength of green Christmas lights.
Luthor had cunningly partnered with a major Christmas light manufacturer, ensuring that nearly every green bulb sold in Metropolis this season contained trace amounts of the modified radioactive material. He'd even orchestrated a marketing campaign pushing green as the "must-have" color this year, flooding the city with his new Kryptonite weapon. The early birds had already begun decorating. Every day, more green lights flickered to life across Metropolis, each one a tiny pinprick of Kryptonite radiation.
High above the twinkling cityscape, Superman soared, a frown creasing his brow. He loved this time of year, the spirit of goodwill, the joy in people's faces. But this year, something felt off. For weeks now, a subtle malaise had been creeping over him. A persistent fatigue he couldn't shake, a slight ache in his muscles, a flicker of weakness in his flight. He'd dismissed it at first, attributing it to the increased demands of the season. But as the city grew brighter with each passing day, the feeling intensified. He felt vulnerable, exposed, a sensation he knew all too well.