Eddie Brock's "Superman"

[Eddie Brock]

(DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to any of the following characters, and they are being used here in a nonprofit form of personal entertainment.)

Preface
​

Recently, my mind has been swirling with ideas for a re-imagining of Superman. The character has such a rich history that can be drawn upon to create an extremely original story, and that is precisely what I am now setting out to do. Honestly, I don't know how well this is going to turn out. I've tried fan fictions before, and I've abandoned the projects halfway through. However, there is no other outlet for me to share this creation of mine, and I do want to share it. So without further ado, here is the first installment of my "Superman."

Part One: Falling Angel

Smallville, Kansas
1975

"Jonathan, dinner's ready!" Martha Kent calls out from the front porch of her yellow farmhouse. Martha is still very young, but her dusty farm clothes age her prematurely. In fact, the only features that confirm Martha's youth are her cool, blue eyes and her curly strands of red hair - the latter being pulled back into a messy bun on this particular evening. A dirty apron verifies that Martha has been slaving in the kitchen for hours as her new husband, Jonathan Kent, has been slaving in the fields. The two lead a less-than-glamorous life, but their mutual love prevails through all the hardships of life on the farm.

Jonathan Kent stands up straight and wipes the sweat from his brow. His shaggy locks of brown hair are damp and sticky from hours of sweating. Using the sleeve of his flannel shirt, Jonathan attempts to dry off before heading back to the relative comfort of his unassuming home. Jonathan's age, too, has been betrayed by years of hard labor. His hands are worn and beaten - resembling more the hands of an old man than the 32 year-old that he really is. Through it all, however, Jonathan does not complain. His stoic philosophy is a testament to his character.

Jonathan takes one last look at the setting sun on the horizon. The motley arrangement of brilliant colors is quickly giving way to the all-consuming blackness of the night. A lone star twinkles in the sky, providing the only other source of light besides the fading sun. Breathing in as much of the ambiance as he can, Jonathan then turns to the yellow farmhouse - whose glowing windows contrast starkly with the arriving twilight. Jonathan takes no notice, however, as - to him - this place is his home, plain and simple. Wiping his dirty boots on the old "Welcome" mat on the porch, Jonathan swings open the door to his house as he is bombarded with an influx of aromas emanating from the kitchen.

"Martha, I could live on your cooking for the rest of my life," Jonathan remarks proudly. He lumbers slowly over to the kitchen table, where a placemat has already been arranged for him. Slumping down into the chair, Jonathan begins to twirl his fork absent-mindedly.

Martha places a serving dish on the center of the table before removing her battered oven mits. Pulling out her chair slowly, Martha states softly, "I spoke to Dr. Siegel today."

Without looking up, Jonathan shovels food onto his empty plate. He calmly asks, "So?"

Martha sighs. "It's what we expected," she explains defeatedly. She looks up at her husband with unenergetic melancholy. "We're not going to be able to have a child," she adds with a sense of bitter finality.

Jonathan pauses from his eating, and he exhales loudly. "Martha," he begins with an apologetic tone.

Martha waves him off. "Oh, don't fret," she assures him waveringly. Her words are empty and meaningless, but she says them out of obligation for her husband. She looks him in the eye. "We knew it was coming."

Jonathan breaks eye contact and puts down his fork. "You don't ask for much, and I'm content to give you what you ask for if I can," Jonathan continues. His tone becomes shaky, but he remains calm. "But the fact that I can't give you the one thing you wanted the most..."

"You know I never complain," Martha interjects sincerely. She is doing her best to be a strong foundation, but neither spouse can swallow the news.

Jonathan places his calloused hand gently on top of his wife's. "I wish there was something I could do, Martha," he responds sadly.

Martha returns to eating in an attempt to appear at ease. "It's water under the bridge. We'll work something out," she promises.

Jonathan opens his mouth to protest, but his words seem too small. He thinks better of it, and he returns to eating as well. Every so often, Jonathan looks up to catch his wife's eye, but she is looking down at her plate calmly. Looking away with shame, Jonathan tries to enjoy his dinner, but his appetite now seems to escape him.

***

Jonathan and Martha gather in the living room to watch television after dinner. Neither of them has spoken of the incident at dinner. In fact, neither of them has spoken much at all. Jonathan attempted to bring up some tools that he needed to buy, but Martha simply nodded and didn't say anything more. Jonathan knew that she was keeping her disappointment bottled inside, and it worried him. Martha wanted nothing more than to be a mother, and now the doctor was telling her that it was never going to happen.

Jonathan swore to himself that he'd find a way. He didn't quite know how just yet, but he would not rest until Martha could carry a baby in her arms. It was the one thing he wanted more than anything else for her, and he was determined to get it. Despite his determination, Jonathan couldn't help but look to the skies for a little help.

The only sound in the living room comes from The Mary Tyler Moore Show as Jonathan sits uncomfortably in his armchair, pondering the course of events that has just transpired. Then, during a commercial break, something strange happens. The television set blinks off without warning.

Jonathan and Martha sit silently for a few moments before they lean forward in their respective seats. "What in the name of--?" Jonathan begins, but the television is restored before he can finish. Jonathan sits back in his seat, but he is still puzzled by the unusual occurrence.

Just as everything appears normal again, all the power flicks off. Martha gasps at the Kent farmhouse is overtaken by total darkness. "Jonathan?" she calls out feebly while her eyes adjust to the new level of light. The succeeding silence is then interrupted by the vigorous rattling of the Kent home.

Jonathan's mind races as the furniture shakes around the room. Picture frames come off the walls and crash on the floor noisily. Both Kents grip tightly to their chairs as they try to wait the tremors out. Jonathan finds himself wondering how there could possibly be an earthquake in the middle of Kansas.

Then, as quickly as it had came, the shaking stopped. Power returned, and The Mary Tyler Moore Show continued as if nothing strange had happened. Jonathan and Martha stared at each other in bewilderment - both wanting answers that neither could provide. Jonathan got up from his chair and waddled out to the front porch. Martha followed closely behind.

Jonathan's eyes scanned the dark outdoors as he looked for a possible cause of the disruption. Finally, Jonathan saw something bright and glowing in the fields. The red and orange made it stand out from the pitch black of the night. "Stay here," Jonathan whispered, and Martha obeyed.

Approaching the disturbance apprehensively, a million thoughts raced through Jonathan Kent's mind. He had no clue what he was dealing with, but there were little fires in the surrounding field. There appeared to be a crater, which made Jonathan think it was a piece of space rock or a fallen satellite. When Jonathan reached the tiny summit and peered down into the crater, he realized that he was dealing with a strange combination of the two.

"What on Earth--?" Jonathan asked himself. Inwardly, he thought, No - NOT on Earth.
​

 

[Batman]

I think you're off to a great start, man.

 

[Eddie Brock]

I think you're off to a great start, man.

Well, the odds of the New DC RPG going through are slim and none. The odds of it surviving are even less. Therefore, I caved and started writing this. Needless to say, I'm thoroughly enjoying myself so far.

 

[Eddie Brock]

Part Two: Homecomings

Smallville, Kansas
Present Day

Clark Kent exits his taxi and pays the driver his due fare. The taxi cab pulls away abruptly, kicking up pebbles and dust in its wake. Clark merely stands motionless and stares ahead at the dirt path leading to the Kent farmhouse. Clark is a man of imposing stature, yet there is an innate warmth about him. He wears his broad smile as proudly as the dusty red jacket that flaps in the wind behind him. Clark's messy locks of raven black hair add a sense of comfort and casual indifference to his appearance. His steely blue eyes scan the place he has called home for the past 33 years.

Clark adjusts the shoulder strap of his duffel bag before making his way up to the old farmhouse where his parents anxiously await. Clark emailed them a week ago to announce that he would be returning today from a 7 year soul search. Granted, Clark had dropped by from time to time, and he had kept in constant contact, but now he was making it official. In 2 weeks, Clark would be settling into a new permanent home.

Nonetheless, Clark has come to make one last stop on his trip around the world. This time, he's visiting his roots, returning to the home where he always felt welcome - a feeling that eluded him over the years. Clark returns with a sense of resolve and an excitement to get started. He only worries now how he will explain his decision to his parents.

As Clark approaches the house, he runs his hand absent-mindedly across the faded blue exterior of his father's pick-up truck. Walking slowly, Clark allows himself to become lost in memories of years past. The most palpable is the last night that Clark spent with his high school and college sweetheart, Lana Lang.

It was Clark's last week in Smallville before he left to see the world. Clark longed so deeply to bring Lana along, but he knew that this was a solitary journey. Thus, he had to say goodbye to Lana - and subsequently, Smallville. Clark pulled up outside Lana's house. The house once belonged to Lana's parents, but they moved out and left Lana to take care of the property. Clark was still living at the farm with his family.

Lana raced outside and entered the truck excitedly. She leaned over and gave Clark an energetic kiss on the cheek. Without a word, Clark put his foot on the gas and drove. He wasn't sure how to bring up the subject, so he put it off as long as he could. Clark drove Lana all the way to the edge of Smallville - to Shuster's Point - until he could hold out no longer. Parking the car, Clark turned to Lana.

"There's a reason I brought you out here," he explained hesitantly. He peered out the windshield while asking, "Do you recognize it?"

Lana smiled and nodded. "It's Shuster's Point - where we had our first date," she replied joyfully.

"How long ago was that?" Clark asked, though he knew the answer.

Lana furrowed her brow in thought. "Well, we were 17, so that was 9 years ago," she responds. She suddenly became anxious by the questions. With a look of worry, she asked, "Why do you ask?"

"We've both lived in Smallville our entire lives. It's all we know. But I can't help but get the feeling that I need to get out," Clark stated calmly. He stared right into Lana's eyes as he added, "I love my father dearly, but the life of a farmer is not the life for me. I want to explore the world - see what else is out there."

Lana smiled. It was not the response Clark was expecting. "I know exactly what you mean," she assured him. "I've always wanted to travel, but I could never bring myself to leave Smallville."

Lana leaned forward and took Clark's hand. "Now, you can take me with you," she suggested excitedly.

Clark pulled away from her slightly. He was afraid that she would make such an offer. It was a difficult thing to turn down, but Clark knew that he must. "I would love to, but this is a personal thing," he explained softly. He looked into her eyes apologetically. "You understand, right?"

The disappointment on Lana's face was unmistakable. Nonetheless, she refrained from getting emotional. A simple nod was all it took to acknowledge him. After a moment, she questioned sheepishly, "How long?"

Clark bit his lip. It was a question that was impossible to answer. "As long as it takes to figure out who I am and who I want to be," he replied vaguely. It was not an answer that sat well with Lana, but it was better than none at all. Clark lifted Lana's chin and looked right at her. "I'll be back eventually," he promised confidently.

"You better look me up right away when you get back," Lana commanded jokingly. Her defeated tone still resonated with a quality of light-heartedness. Both Clark and Lana smirked awkwardly - neither sure of what to say or where to go from there.

Realizing that he has drifted quite far down memory lane, Clark suddenly snaps back to reality. Removing his hand from the side of the truck and returning it to his pocket, Clark washes the sad memories of Lana away. He did have every intention of looking her up as she made him promise, but his hopes were not very high. He neither expected nor desired Lana to put her life on hold for him. With any luck, she will have a family of her own. The thought made Clark happy for her, but depressed for himself. Once again, he fights away the suffocating nostalgia as he puts on a smile for his parents.

Swinging the screen door open swiftly, Clark takes one step into the house before hearing the excited cries of his mother. "Clark? Is that you?" Martha Kent calls out.

"I'm home, Mom," Clark replies back as he hears hurried footsteps. Martha Kent appears in the kitchen - still very attractive, even for a woman of her age. Her reddish hair still clings desperately to its last vestiges of color, but her eyes remain unaged.

Martha throws her arms around her son and hugs tightly. Clark places the duffel bag on the floor and laughs. When Martha lets go, Clark explains, "I have something for you." Clark reaches into his duffel bag and retrieves a snowglobe. Martha has accumulated an impressive collection from all of the places that Clark visited on his journey. "It's from Gotham," Clark states as he hands her the little glass ball.

"Gotham?" Martha repeats nervously. "Why would you go there? You know I don't like the idea of you hanging around in such a seedy place..."

"Actually, Mom, Gotham was one of the most productive stops on my trip," Clark responds unfalteringly. "It opened my eyes to a world that I knew nothing about, and it started to put ideas in my head."

Martha eyes Clark apprehensively. While arching an eyebrow, she inquires, "What kind of ideas?"

Clark dismisses her question with a friendly wave. "There will be time for that later," he promises. "In the meantime, I'm starving - and I could sure use some of Martha Kent's home-cooking."

Martha smiles and pats her son on the shoulder. "You're in luck. I was just about to serve lunch. I'll go round up your father, and you can help yourself," Martha offers. She moves to the screen door and stops. With a grin, she adds, "I assume you remember where everything is?"

Clark opens a pantry and laughs. "You know I have the memory of an elephant, Mom," he reminds her jokingly.

"And the appetite of one, too!" she teases back.

Deep down, they both can't help but think that Clark shares quite a few traits with the elephant. Namely incredible strength and a nigh impenetrable hide. Even still, both of them push the thought aside for the time being. As Clark said, there will be time to discuss that side of him later. For now, everyone is just happy to have him home.
​

 

[Eddie Brock]

Part Three: The Plan

The Kents sit down to lunch as they had done so many times in the past. Smiling brightly, each member of the family seems genuinely happy to be around the others - especially so on this occasion. Nothing makes Martha and Jonathan more enthusiastic than having their prodigal son home. They remain quiet for some time as they process everything. The family is reunited, yet they all know that it wouldn't and couldn't last. Clark's destiny is far greater than a rundown farm in the middle of Kansas.

"So, Clark," Jonathan speaks up, clearing his throat loudly, "You told us that this was a soul-searching journey when you left."

Clark nods.

"So what did you find?" Jonathan asks interestedly. He puts down his utensils and leans in to listen to his son.

Clark shrugs indifferently at first - unsure of how to respond. After a moment of thinking, he explains, "I found that the world is a much bigger place than Smallville made it seem. I've been all across the globe, and I've seen how people live. I thought we had it rough, but I was so naive..."

"What do you mean?" Martha asks anxiously.

Clark leans back in his chair. "Mom, the world is spinning out of control. People are losing hope - hope in others, hope in themselves, hope in the world around them. Everyone has resigned themselves to a meaningless, hopeless existence," Clark notes. "I get so depressed when I think about it. Sure, our world isn't perfect - but it's not beyond saving. Don't you think?"

Jonathan nods. Martha is not so sure.

"Clark, if there's one thing I've learned," Jonathan begins, "It's that anything can be accomplished with the right willpower."

"It's not that simple, though," Clark reminds his father. His steely blue eyes glaze over with an experience well beyond his years. "We've reached a point where only drastic actions will change the world. People need something to believe in - they tell me so themselves - but they've become too cynical. They want a savior, but they also know not to look a gift horse in the mouth. How do you reach out to that?"

Jonathan furrows his brow. It's a dilemma, to be sure. Even so, there has to be an answer. Jonathan is too optimistic to believe that the world is beyond saving.

Martha cuts in nervously, "What are you getting at, Clark?"

"All my life, I've had to hide. I couldn't try out for the football team because I might hurt someone. I couldn't take credit for putting out that barn fire because I'd become a lab rat. My every move had to be carefully calculated so that no one found out about me," Clark explains.

As soon as Clark mentions the barn fire, Jonathan and Martha both feel a sense of nostalgia. It was their proudest and scariest moment. Mr. Reeve, a local farmer, had long been a staple of the Smallville community. One afternoon, a poorly discarded cigarette butt set fire to some hay bales in his barn. Within minutes, the entire structure was engulfed in flames. Mr. Reeve was trapped inside. Clark, who had been walking home from the market, saw the fire. Rushing in at superhuman speed, Clark pulled Mr. Reeve out of the barn and off to safety. Then, Clark used his amazing lung capacity to blow out the fire like a birthday cake. The town was abuzz with rumors, and the Kents worried that Clark's secret would get out. Luckily, Mr. Reeve hadn't seen anything.

"I'm done with hiding," Clark declares. "That fire proved that my abilities are a gift, and that I can use them for the benefit of mankind - even if it's only one person at a time. I don't mean to sound conceited, but..."

Clark beams proudly.

"I think I can save the world."

Jonathan shifts uncomfortably in his seat before asking the question on his and Martha's minds. "...How?"

Clark smirks. "That's where you guys come in," he explains with a wink.
​

 

[Batman]

I gotta say, you're pushing me further and further to do a Batman spinoff of this.

 

[Eddie Brock]

I gotta say, you're pushing me further and further to do a Batman spinoff of this.

I would encourage you to do it, but then I'd have to write in your shadow.

 

[Finlandman]

Eddie Brock Jr.,You're an excellent writer. I can't wait to read Supermans first appereance.

 

[Eddie Brock]

Eddie Brock Jr.,You're an excellent writer. I can't wait to read Supermans first appereance.

I can't wait to write it!

EDIT: I'm going to be sick. I had Part Four almost complete, but I press the wrong button and - POOF! - it's lost to oblivion.

 

[Finlandman]

Too bad. Similar has happened to me once. I was playing old PSX game. I playd it from start to second to last level without saving. Then lighting striked and power went out. I didn't play that game again for the long time.

 

[Eddie Brock]

Just letting you guys know that I haven't given up. I just haven't had the time to make an entry.

 

[Andy C.]

I love your characterization of the Kents. Keep it up!

 

[Eddie Brock]

I love your characterization of the Kents. Keep it up!

I will. With the end of the school year, I've been hard-pressed to find ample time. It'll come probably next week.

 

[Eddie Brock]

(This took long enough, but if I push myself, I should get right back on track...)

Part Four: Threads​

"So...this is how you want it?" Martha asks without looking up from Clark's crude drawing.

Clark puts down the fabric he was examining, and he hovers over his mother's shoulder. "Well, it's kinda rough and all, but you get the general idea," Clark explains. He knew that he wasn't an artist, but he thought that he did a decent job.

Martha chews on the eraser of the pencil in her hand. "Are you sure about the colors? They seem to stand out a bit."

"The colors have to stay," Clark replies determinedly. "They have important symbolic value to the people that I came from."

"Farmers?" Jonathan asks jokingly from the doorway. He had just walked into the room and heard Clark and Martha talking.

"No, Dad, Krypton," Clark corrects.

Jonathan arches an eyebrow. "Krypton?" he repeats uncertainly. It was definitely an interesting name - even a little fitting, too, considering how cryptic Clark was being about this 'project.' Even so, Jonathan had faith in his son. He and Martha knew that they raised Clark right. He wasn't going to do anything stupid.

"That's what Dr. Swann called it, anyway," Clark shrugs. He goes back to the fabrics laid out on the table. He walks up to each one, running it through his fingers. He needed something comfortable yet regal in appearance. "We can't really be sure on the translation," Clark explains.

"You trust this Dr. Swann?" Martha asks. She remembers Clark mentioning a Virgil Swann in the past, but her son never said much about it. He just assured the Kents that Dr. Swann was an expert. Clark appeared to be learning about his origins, so Martha thought it may be for the best. Even still, she holds some reservations about a human's ability to translate alien symbols.

Clark rolls his eyes playfully. He had this debate with his parents time and time again. "Dr. Swann has dedicated his life to the study of extraterrestrial lifeforms. He knows what he's doing," Clark assures them. "He's the one who pointed out the colors to me. Apparently, they signify royalty - much like we use purple and red for kings."

"Royalty? No offense, Clark, but I think you may be having delusions of grandeur," Jonathan laughs. He knew his son was special, and he knew his son was an alien. But royalty? Even for a man who had seen so much, that seemed laughable to Jonathan Kent.

"Dr. Swann is sure of it," Clark replies firmly. He reaches over Martha's shoulder and points to a sketch of a symbol. "This symbol is something like a family crest - another sign of status on Krypton."

Martha scratches her head. "That's what that was?"

"What did you think it was?"

Martha shrugs. "I don't know. An 'S,' maybe?" she suggests.

"An 'S?' No, Mom, it's a lot more than that. You are looking at the House of El crest, and - from what Dr. Swann and I can tell - I'm the last surviving member of the dynasty," Clark announces proudly.

"House of El? Krypton? Royalty? What exactly were you doing when you were out finding yourself, son?" Jonathan inquires. Jonathan is a simple man, and he was having a hard time taking all this in at once. It seemed too extraordinary to be real. Then again, he thought the exact same thing when a spaceship landed in his fields 33 years ago.

Clark stands up straight. "This is who I am, Dad. I'm Kal-El, the last survivor of the House and El and subsequently Krypton. That's why I'm taking so much care with this outfit. It should be something fit to honor my lost heritage."

Martha looks at her husband. "He has a point, Jonathan. If this Dr. Swann is right, we can't dress up our son in anything less than the best," she states half-jokingly. Martha nibbles on the eraser again and pauses. "What about the mask? You didn't design anything."

Clark stops in his tracks. "Mask?"

"Well, Clark, if you're to be understood, you're creating this outfit to wear when you're out saving the world. You're going to be a regular hero, but not everybody likes a hero. You need a disguise," Martha insists. The last thing she wanted was Clark getting hurt. Granted, that was a difficult task when Clark has impenetrable skin, but when someone sets their mind on something...

"I'm not going to wear a mask," Clark explains calmly. "It looks like I have something to hide."

"You mean other than the fact that you're an alien with powers beyond a normal person?" Jonathan asks sarcastically. Just from listening to Clark talk about this 'plan,' he was beginning to think that his son was taking this far too lightly.

"Guys, I need people to be able to trust me. If I'm wearing a mask, they'll have doubts. Considering what I plan to do, I can't afford doubts," Clark reasons. He only hoped that his parents would understand. The colors were an important matter, but he absolutely would not budge on the mask. There had to be another way.

"What can we do then?" Martha asks rhetorically. She begins to rub her chin. How to craft an effective disguise without using a mask? It was a perplexing task, indeed.

"Let me see those drawings," Jonathan coughs. Martha hands him the crumpled sheet of paper, and Jonathan squints to get a good look at Clark's artwork. "Damn, I don't have my reading glasses."

Then, a lightbulb went off in Martha's head.

"Your glasses?"

Jonathan nods.

"That's it, Clark!" Martha exclaims triumphantly.

Both Clark and Jonathan look at her in confusion. "What are you on about?" Jonathan asks.

Martha touches her husband's arm. "Do you remember what I said when you came home after getting your glasses?" she inquires excitedly.

Jonathan still doesn't quite get it. "Yeah, you said that I looked like a different man." By the time he finishes answering, the lightbulb goes off in his head, too. "You joked, asking where the man you married was."

Listening to both of them talk, Clark understands now, too. But he is wary. "Glasses? I'm sure if we give it some thought, we can come up with something more solid than that," Clark insists.

"Clark, you'd be surprised how much of a difference a simple pair of glasses can make!" Martha replies defensively. "It frames your whole face differently! People begin to focus more on one aspect of you appearance - rather than the whole!"

"Besides, half of the time, you're going to be running and flying around so fast..." Jonathan adds.

Clark bites his lip. There's some logic to it.

"Oh, we can do other things, too!" Martha continues. She suddenly goes to work, treating Clark like a mannequin. "Your hairstyles will be different. Your posture will be different. Your clothes...Clark, you need to blend in! When people see you, it shouldn't be anything special. People should forget you moments after meeting you."

It was an unsettling thought, but it filled Clark with excitement. They might be on to something. But what they were suggesting...

"The outfit isn't the disguise," Clark announces aloud.

"Like you said, son, Kal-El is who you are," Jonathan reminds him. "Clark Kent, in reality, is an illusion."

Clark Kent as the illusion? It opened up a world of possibilities. It gave Clark freedom, and that wasn't something easy to come across.

"Oh, behavior is everything in this charade, Clark!" Martha realizes. "Looking ordinary is one thing, but you need to act ordinary, too! There can't be anything unique about you! You need to be mild-mannered, soft-spoken..."

"I need to lie," Clark interjects.

"It's not a 'lie' as much as it's an 'act,' " Martha assures her son. She knows that he never even liked to tell the littlest of white lies, but his entire life was about to become white lies.

Another lightbulb goes off in Jonathan's head. "Act? You could find some books or some internet sites that teach you how to act. You could be so convincing as the boring...what did you say you wanted to do again?"

Clark smiles. "I want to be a reporter."

 

[Finlandman]

Great work as usually. It's been a while.

 

[Eddie Brock]

Great work as usually. It's been a while.

Exactly a month, by coincidence.

 

[Batman]

Sweet chapter.

 

[Eddie Brock]

It's the next one that I'm really amped for. I don't think it's too spoiling to tell that Part Five is tentatively titled "Metropolis."

 

[Eddie Brock]

Part Five: Metropolis

Clark Kent steps off the bus uncertainly. He's completely taken aback by the captivating magic of the city he now finds himself in. Twice the size and three times more technologically advanced than New York City, Metropolis is the cultural center of the United States - and the world. Like a beacon in the darkness, Metropolis interrupts the vast plains of Kansas and the surrounding area. Positioned alongside a major river - and nestled in a low valley surrounded by rolling hills - Metropolis has a little bit of everything. Metropolis's unassuming appearance is more devious than some of its residents. On the East End, the massive LexCorp Building dominates the skyline. Opposing it on the West End is the recognizable shape of the Daily Planet Building - its massive globe in constant rotation. Compared to the two monumental structures, the skyscrapers in-between seem unimpressive. Even still, the imposing skyline is more than enough to mesmerize a farmboy like Clark Joseph Kent.

From the sky, Metropolis is shaped something like a sideways crescent moon - with the LexCorp and Daily Planet Buildings providing the end points. The river clings to the northeastern limits of the city before trailing off to the southeast. The southern part of Metropolis - the part enclosed by the inner edge of the crescent - is infamously known as the Suicide Slums. Even a city like Metropolis, the closest thing to techno-utopia on Earth, is not without a rundown district. In order for the businessmen and scientists to get ahead in Metropolis, they must have someone to stand on. That is where the Suicide Slums come from. They are the people who got the short end of the stick when Metropolis began to boom in the 1920s. The socioeconomic gap has grown exponentially ever since. City officials often suggest making the Suicide Slums into a separate city - akin to Camden or East Saint Louis. No such action has even been taken, however.

"BUDDY, FOR THE FIFTH TIME, MOVE!" an annoyed taxi driver shouts at the wonder-stricken Clark. Clark has just now realized that someone is talking to him. He jumps suddenly, and the taxi speeds away. Clark drops his briefcase. As Clark bends down to retrieve his briefcase, a quickly moving pedestrian slams his shoulder into Clark. Clark stumbles and almost loses his glasses. He leers at the pedestrian for a moment.

This is going to be harder than I thought, Clark mused. Clark had remembered hearing countless stories of the fast-paced lifestyle of Metropolis. During his travels, Clark had visited New York, Gotham, Keystone, London, Shiruta, Paris, and Star City. Everywhere he went, people assured him that it was nothing like Metropolis. Each time, Clark found it harder to believe. Life was already pretty fast-paced. How bad could Metropolis be?

He was quickly learning first-hand.

Clark tries waving down a taxi, but the yellow car speeds by without hesitation. Clark tries it again, only to yield the same result. He is beginning to lose his patience, but he remembers that he needs to be timid and mild-mannered. Besides, it couldn't hurt to walk. So Clark sets off, but he soon finds the sidewalk to be a hostile environment.

"FIVE DOLLAR PURSES! GUCCI! COACH! GET IT RIGHT HERE!"

Clark smiles at the cheap knock-off purses. One did not need X-Ray Vision to deduce that they were fakes. Even so, crowds of women flocked with money in hand to buy a name brand handbag. Clark never understood why women - or anyone, really - were so intent on throwing away money. Perhaps it was his farmboy attitude, but the Kents rarely had enough money to go beyond what they absolutely needed to survive. As such, Clark learned very early to appreciate the value of a dollar. His friends accuse him of being stingy, but Clark considers it "financially wise."

Clark's amused smile fades when he passes the next display of big city life. A man sleeps underneath a flattened plasma screen TV box. The rushing crowd tramples all around, paying no attention to the homeless man. Clark couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. He was well out of his element. Perhaps if he were in the Suicide Slums, he would blend in better - as depressing as that thought was. Clark tries to brush the homeless man from his mind, but he finds himself thinking about it for the next several blocks.

This is who I'm here for, Clark reminds himself. The downtrodden, the hopeless, the lost. If I have to help them all one-by-one, so help me I will.

Clark meant every word, too. He wasn't sure how his new plan was going to help people like that homeless man, but he knew that it had to - somehow. Clark was praying for a trickle-down effect of sorts. The deeds he performed would cause a chain reaction that would eventually benefit every person in Metropolis directly or indirectly. Then, the scale could be increased. It seemed too lofty a goal, but Clark wanted to save the world. He knew that he needed to save the world.

Because the unfortunate truth was that no one else would. Or even could, for that matter.

It had to be Clark. As much as that frightened and pressured him, it had to be Clark out there, making a difference. And he was ready to start right away. First, however, Clark Kent needed to be established in Metropolis. And there was only one possible way to accomplish that. This is how Clark found himself at the entrance to the Daily Planet Building. In some part of him, Clark knew that a whole new world of challenges lay on the other side of that door. Flying around at the speed of sound was easy, but Clark had never worked as a professional reporter before. He had done freelance stuff with The Smallville Torch, but that was so minor league compared to the Daily Planet - the number 1 newspaper in the world. Clark began to have doubts about whether he was capable enough.

But if the Editor-In-Chief had agreed to meet Clark, there must be something about him that's appealing to such a prestigious establishment. And the thought of that excited him. Maybe Clark was a better reporter than he thought. Maybe Perry White just felt sorry for him and wanted to give him an honest chance. Either way, the answer lay on the other side of the door.

So Clark reached out and grabbed the handle. No more hesitation. This was his time to shine. With a deep breath, Clark threw open the door and entered the cavernous lobby of the Daily Planet. It literally took his breath away.
​

 

[Finlandman]

 

[Eddie Brock]

Part Six: The Daily Planet

If the city of Metropolis seemed overwhelming, the Daily Planet Building took it to a whole new level. As Clark walked in, he didn't know where to begin. Everyone else, it seemed, had somewhere to go and knew how to get there. People bustled about in their normal routines - routines which were foreign to someone like Clark, who grew up in such a relaxed environment. What surprised Clark the most was the utter lack of communication. People brushed past each other without even a courteous nod or a simple greeting. If, by some chance, they happened to collide, an arbitrary, unfeeling "excuse me" was exchanged.

Now, where Clark was from, everybody knew everybody else. Even worse, everybody's mother knew everybody else's mother. So in the tight-knit town of Smallville, people took care to watch their manners. As a kid, it always seemed uptight to Clark, but he came to respect it as he grew older. He realized that the parents of Smallville were raising their children to be self-conscious, polite adults. In Clark's opinion, it usually worked. Yet here he was, thrown into a world beyond comprehension for someone like him. Everyone in Metropolis had unlearned everything their parents worked so hard to teach. Manners came second to haste.

Standing dumbstruck in the lobby of the Daily Planet, Clark witnessed the coolness first-hand. His hesitation bred minor chaos, as people were forced to walk around him. It must have wasted precious time because they seemed quite unhappy about it. In fact, many people attempted to walk straight through Clark. When it was all said and done, Clark had stopped to pick up his things four times before reaching the elevator. Granted, this was all part of his plan. Clumsiness was only one quality that he had engineered for his Clark Kent persona.

The elevator was another ordeal in itself. When Clark saw how crowded the first car was, he decided that it would be best to wait for the next one to come. However, he soon had no choice as the flood of people behind him rushed into the elevator. Like a child swept into the ocean's undertow, Clark found himself slammed into the back of the elevator.

"Top floor please," he announced timidly. He expected the man nearest the door to press the indicated button, but that man made no move. Clark cleared his throat and repeated, "Top floor please." Again, it seemed that no one was listening.

Clark squeezed painstakingly through the crowd, who became annoyed by his behavior. Clark apologized graciously as he pushed men and women out of the way, but his apology was met with sneers and glares. Finally, Clark worked his way to the front where he could press the button. As he did, he suddenly lost his balance and stumbled forward, leaving his briefcase at the back of the elevator. He turned to face the crowd and explained, "I have to get my..."

As he looked at the dry faces before him, he started to turn red. "I guess it can wait," he added suddenly before turning away from them. This was getting harder by the moment. Clark was beginning to regret leaving Smallville.

With each passing floor, people filed out of the elevator mechanically. They acted no different than they did in the lobby. Again, they were unspeaking and uncaring as they made their way around the building like they owned it. Finally, Clark was able to head to the back of the elevator and retrieve his briefcase. He smiled sheepishly at the man next to him, but the man only stared for a moment before turning away. Clark wiped the smile off his face.

What am I doing? Clark asked himself. I don't belong here.

But it was too late to turn back now. The ding of the elevator caught Clark's attention, and he realized that he had reached the top floor. Clark and the remaining occupants of the elevator poured out into the most alien landscape of all. For the first time, Clark was seeing how real reporters worked. The desks in the room were all arranged in four rows. Some desks were abandoned. Others had multiple reporters huddled around. Clark caught a glimpse of several reporters hanging around the water cooler in the back corner. At the end of the room, opposite the elevators, was the Editor's Office.

Outside the office stood a very impatient Perry White.

"You're late, Kent!" Perry barked. Clark recognized him right away as the Editor-In-Chief of the Daily Planet. He was temporarily stunned by the fact that he was meeting with such a powerful man - and a journalistic icon. Perry White was the star reporter of his day. He was covering Watergate and Nixon's impeachment before Clark was even born. "You have five seconds to get in my office, or I'm giving this interview to someone else," Perry threatened.

Someone tapped Clark on the shoulder. Clark turned to see a young kid - no older than 20 - with bushy, red hair. He was smiling faintly. "You better be careful. Perry's having a bad day," the kid warns.

Clark laughs nervously. "Thanks for the tip," he responds. Clark picks up his briefcase and powerwalks down the aisle to Perry's office. When he enters, Perry is turned to face the window. Clark puts down his briefcase and takes a seat.

"Did I tell you to sit?" Perry asks without turning around. Clark starts to get up, but Perry waves a hand dismissively. "Forget it. I'm just rambling," he explains apologetically. Perry turns and stares at Clark for a while. "You don't look how I pictured," he states suddenly.

Clark clears his throat. "Sir?"

Perry takes a seat. "Don't mind me. Like I said, I'm rambling. It's the only thing I can do to keep from strangling someone around here," he responds calmly. Clark can indeed see why that kid said Perry was having a bad day. It was written all over his face. "Why'd I call you here today, Kent?" Perry asks.

Clark shrugs. "I don't know, sir. Why?"

"I want to hear what you have to say, Kent," Perry replies. He leans back in his chair. "You tell me why I called you here. Tell me why I should hire you to work on the most prestigious newspaper in the world." Then, like an afterthought, he added, "No pressure."

Clark laughed again nervously. No pressure? Clark had never felt more pressure in his life. He had handled job interviews before, but it never got any easier. Even so, Clark knew how to sell himself. He had done it before, and he could only hope it would work again. "Well, sir," Clark starts confidently.

He stops. In his zeal to get this job, he forgot about the persona he's creating for himself. Sure, the old Clark Kent could take passionately and determinedly - but that wasn't the new Clark Kent. This Clark Kent wouldn't know how to answer an interview question like this. He's far too timid and soft-spoken to sell himself adequately. The thought dawned on Clark that this persona could lose him the job.

"Well, I, uh, I don't know what you want to me say, sir," Clark croaked. On the bright side, he may not be able to sell himself - but he was selling this image of himself rather nicely. No one would ever expect a man like this to be anything more than what he was. Martha was right. Personality was everything.

Perry shows no emotion. It troubles Clark because he is unable to read Mr. White. He has no idea where he stands right now. "It's not about what I want to hear, Kent. It's about what you need to say," Perry explains. He then mutters, "And you better say something."

Clark began to cough. His right foot started tapping anxiously. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but his voice failed him. If he wanted to risk blowing his cover, he could sit up straight and explain himself. But the idea was to make sure that Perry White was not impressed by Clark Kent. Unfortunately, Clark had to impress him enough to get the job. It wasn't proving to be an easy task.

"You're damn lucky, Kent," Perry interrupted, "that I badly need a new reporter. Otherwise, this type of foolishness would never fly. You know that, right?"

Clark looked down at the ground and nodded.

Perry sighed. "And the fact of the matter is that I think this whole angle could work for you," he admitted. Clark looked up interestedly. "People won't be afraid to tell you things because they won't be threatened by you. It could be an ingenious interviewing technique."

Clark never thought of it that way. Now that he did, he was pretty proud of himself. After all, it did make sense. People are more than willing to talk to a quiet person because they know that they won't have to listen to someone talking back. They can say whatever they want without being judged, ridiculed, or attacked. People liked to be able to walk all over someone else. It made them feel powerful. And pride comes before the fall.

"Do you have a place in Metropolis yet?" Perry asked. Clark shook his head. "Get one," he commanded. "I need to know where and how to contact you when it's time for you to come in and prove your worth." Perry's eyes narrowed. "And despite what I said, you still have a lot to prove."

"I understand, sir," Clark replied obediently.

"I hope you do. We don't play games at the Planet, Kent."

Clark shook his head. "I wouldn't dream of it," he assured Perry.

Perry ground his teeth together for a moment, considering his decision. It was arguably the most insane one he had made in a long time. In order to survive in the cutthroat world of journalism, you had to be willing to cut a few throats. He wasn't sure Clark Kent was prepared to do that. In any case, Perry would humor him for a while. But if he didn't produce anything printable, he was gone - back to whatever hick town he came from. "You're free to go," Perry announced finally. Clark got up and started for the door. "I've got my eye on you, Kent." Clark nodded understandingly.

Clark couldn't believe how well that went. He was getting a job at the Daily Planet! He couldn't wait to email his parents right away with the good news. In a flash, it was like all his misgivings about his ability to survive in Metropolis had vanished. And this was only the start. The best, as they say, was still yet to come.

"So he hired you?" someone asked abruptly, interrupting Clark from his thoughts. He turned to see the kid again. "I'm Jimmy Olsen," the kid explained. "I work as a freelance photographer to pay for school. Met U doesn't come cheap!"

Clark continued to look around at the newsroom as he listened to Jimmy talk. "So you're like Peter Parker," Clark observed.

"Who?"

"Peter Parker? Spider-Man? From the comic books," Clark replied.

Jimmy shook his head. "Look, regardless of appearances, I'm not a comic book nerd," he insisted. "Technology is more my thing anyway - apparently." He lifted up the camera that was hanging around his neck. Clark hadn't noticed it before in all his fervor. "This baby is top of line. Cost me three months worth of paychecks, though..."

Clark wasn't listening anymore. She had walked into the room. Clark was completely frozen in his place, watching her move about gracefully yet powerfully. Her raven black hair moved slightly with the air conditioning, and her skin was the shade of a creamy cup of coffee. Most piercingly of all were her blueish-brown eyes which surveyed the room. They fell momentarily on Clark, but he apparently didn't register on her radar.

Jimmy had finally noticed that Clark wasn't paying attention. He tried to follow Clark's gaze, but when he turned, he knew instantly what had captivated the fledgling reporter. "Lois Lane, huh? Yeah. She has that effect on people," Jimmy remarked.

"Lois Lane?" Clark repeated, grateful to have a name to put her beautiful face to. He was completely in a trance, and his own words seemed far, far away.

Jimmy nodded. "Yep, the one and only Lois Lane - ace reporter and Pulitzer Prize winner," he responded. "Don't get too excited though. You-Know-Who finally popped the question, and - judging from the rock on her finger - Ms. Lane accepted."

Clark frowned. There was another man? This goddess had a fiancé? As disappointed as it was, it made perfect sense. Someone like that is not bound to stay single for long at all. "You-Know-Who?" Clark inquired in confusion. Clearly, Jimmy was implying that Clark should know who the man was.

"Have you been living under a rock?" Jimmy asked sarcastically. "Everyone knows that Lois Lane and Lex Luthor have been pretty serious for years. Just when she was beginning to fear that he'd never marry her, he proposes. Talk about timing, huh?"

Clark's elation had completely evaporated. Whereas Lois Lane was an unfamiliar name to Clark, Lex Luthor was not. Just about everyone in the country knew who Luthor was. And the fact that someone like him could end up with Lois irritated Clark.

"Lois and Lex?" Clark announced aloud. "I don't believe it."

Jimmy chuckled. "Well, believe it. Last I heard, the wedding was in four months or so. Lex Luthor isn't the type of man to be patient."

Clark didn't find it funny at all.
​

 

[Batman]

Cool chapter. Loved the Spidey mention.

By the way, I took the liberty of renaming the thread, to reflect your name change. If you want it changed back, let me know.

 

[Eddie Brock]

Cool chapter. Loved the Spidey mention.

By the way, I took the liberty of renaming the thread, to reflect your name change. If you want it changed back, let me know.

Ha. I didn't even notice about that. Thanks.

Credit goes to you for Lois's fiance, though.

 

[Eddie Brock]

Part Seven: Lois

What was there to say about Lois Lane? An army brat by upbringing, a reporter by profession, and a heartbreaker by nature. That's the most basic description of such a complex woman. Many man discovered the hard way that Lois was nearly impossible to handle. She was brash, straightforward to the point of being harsh, impatient, independent, and rough around the edges, so to speak. Most simply figured that her dazzling looks were not worth the effort. Only Lex Luthor had the tenacity and the fortitude to look past the facade. Luthor knew what he wanted from the moment he saw Lois, and he wasn't going to stop trying until he got it. That was the Luthor way.

Lois wasn't much different. She knew from a young age that she wanted to be a reporter. People insisted that it couldn't happen. After all, Lois had been dealt a poor hand in life. Not only was she a girl, but she was African-American. These two facts, combined with her model-like appearance, made many believe that she would never be taken seriously as a journalist. Their discouragement only strengthened Lois. She soon decided that she had to prove everybody wrong about it. And she did so seemingly effortlessly.

When Lois first arrived at the Daily Planet, it was just as everyone predicted. Perry White saw only a pretty face, and he assumed that she wasn't capable of the kind of hard-knock work involved in the profession. Lois protested, and Perry grudgingly gave her a job. But he seemed determined to keep her off the front page stories. He assigned Lois to lesser things, like human interest pieces and the like. Lois became annoyed and complained, so Perry cooked up something new.

Perry sent Lois to Star City to get an interview with the elusive playboy Oliver Queen. It seemed like a legitimate story, so Lois was more than happy to follow up on it. But everyone around the Planet knew that Queen was not predisposed to giving interviews to anyone. They knew that Lois would get out there, be denied, and come home empty-handed. They clearly underestimated who they were dealing with. Lois rented a hotel room and stayed in Star City for a week until Queen finally cracked and agreed to an interview. It was the first big break of Lois's career. Many more followed.

Lois made a name for herself by being unforgiving, unrelenting, and unmerciful. If she had it out for you, you were screwed. Lois made a career of following hunches, and they served her well. She gained newfound respect from her peers when she nabbed an exclusive Planet interview with Bruce Wayne upon his return from a decade long globe-trotting adventure. Wayne was very mum about the trip, but Lois received tons of credit for getting the interview regardless. In five short years, Lois had become Perry's most valued and - at times - most irritating asset. She had this uncanny ability to see through people's lies, and she could always tell which new reporters could make the grade and which couldn't. Colleagues joking called it "the Lois test."

This was the crossroad that Clark Kent now found himself standing at. He was hired not five minutes ago, and Jimmy insisted upon introducing him to Lois. Jimmy explained that Lois was the ultimate judge of journalistic worth, and you needed her "seal of approval" to become part of the Daily Planet team. Jimmy insisted that it was no big deal if Lois didn't approve, but when Clark asked what would happen if she didn't, Jimmy got real quiet. Clark realized that Lois might have more pull around here than the normal reporter. It made him even more nervous - as if the fact that she was gorgeous wasn't enough.

"Not now, Jimmy," Lois announced when she saw Jimmy approaching. Clark felt that Lois seemed busy, and he wanted to tell Jimmy that they should go. He would have done so if he were able to talk. "I'm busy following that lead you gave me. It's turning out to be better than I thought," she explained honestly.

"You're welcome," Jimmy replied somewhat sarcastically. Clark was getting the impression that Jimmy led a very thankless existence. It made Clark feel a little sorry for him. "Anyway, I've got a new recruit for you to interrogate," Jimmy stated excitedly.

In that instant, Lois seemed to forget about the work she was doing. She put down the papers and stood up straight, hands on her hips. When she looked at Clark, he almost felt himself melt. "Him?" she asked simply.

Jimmy nodded.

"What's his name?" Lois inquired abruptly.

Jimmy looked at Clark and then back at Lois. "Well, uh, he hasn't exactly told me his name."

"Why haven't you told him your name?" Lois asked Clark accusingly. He at least felt grateful that the questions were being directed at him.

Clark stammered for a few moments, unable to come up with a good reason. "I just didn't get around to it yet. That's all," he explained defensively.

"'That's all?' What, don't you have time to tell him your name?" In any other situation, Clark would have thought this was a joke. But Lois didn't seem to be laughing. It felt surreal to Clark. He wasn't sure what to do.

"I..." Clark trailed off. What could he say? These were strange questions in an awkward situation. It was hard enough talking to a beautiful woman. It was worse when she was acting so strangely.

"You what?"

Clark shook his head. "Nothing, nothing. I, uh, I just don't know what my name has to do with anything," Clark explained.

"It's not about the name," Lois insisted. Clark believed otherwise. At least, that's how Lois was making it seem. Now Clark understood why people joked about "the Lois test." She didn't mess around. "But you still haven't told us."

Clark could have sworn that he detected the faintest hint of a smile. It relaxed him slightly. Maybe this was a little bit of a joke. Maybe Lois genuinely enjoyed poking fun at the newbies and seeing how anxious they were. Well, despite the persona he wanted to create for himself, Clark wasn't going to purposely act like a plaything. Two people could play this game.

"My name's Clark. Clark Kent."

Lois nodded. She apparently seemed satisfied by this point. She saw now that she couldn't bat Clark around so easily, so she backed off slightly. Clark felt much more comfortable. "Where are you from, Kent?" Lois inquired immediately. She really didn't waste time.

"Smallville," Clark replied.

Lois arched an eyebrow. "Smallville? Where the Hell is that?" she asked.

"It's a little town a few hundred miles from here," Clark responded. "I'm not surprised you don't know about it."

"You think you can make it in the big leagues, Smallville?"

Clark smiled at her new petname. Clark wasn't surprised that this was how citygoers would treat his rural background. In fact, Clark was almost glad for it. He would willingly wear his heart on his sleeve in this case. He wasn't afraid to let people know where he came from. It was a point of pride with him. "We're about to find out, aren't we?" Clark shot back playfully.

Lois smirked warmly at first, but she realized it and her expression hardened once again. "I guess we are," she replied doubtingly. After a moment of quiet staring, she went back to the work she was doing before Jimmy interrupted her.

When they were out of earshot, Jimmy pat Clark on the back. "Congratulations. You passed."
​

 

[Eddie Brock]

For the sake of reference, I will show how I envision the cast:

Clark Kent - Tom Welling
(He's a little young, but still - he's the quintessential Superman.)

Lois Lane - Sanaa Lathan
(She's a little old, but she can still pass for this Lois.)

Lex Luthor - Michael Rosenbaum
(No surprises here.)

Jimmy Olsen - Aaron Ashmore
(I'd redden up his hair a little, though.)