Ultimate Superman #3: Identity Crisis

[DiscipleofBob]

Ultimate Superman #3:
Identity Crisis

"Hold the elevator, please!" yelled the spectacled reporter as he ran across the lobby. Of all the people in the crowded elevator, the only one in reach of the button apparently didn't think one more person could fit. The reporter had to stop himself from running too fast and making a scene. His self-restraint cost him, as the doors sealed shut just in time for his hand to press against the door.

Superman would never need to take the elevator. Superman could fly to the top of a skyscraper and back down before the elevator doors even closed. Superman could have rushed past the other commuters in a blur to be first. But he was Clark Kent, not Superman. Clark Kent was clumsy and often late, but only when it wasn't important. Clark Kent, as far as anyone else knew, was a farm boy from Smallville, kind and dependable if a bit naive.

A few minutes ago he was Superman. Now his red and blue iconic uniform was replaced by the cheap suit barely affordable on a reporter's salary. His hair was combed differently, his posture was purposefully meeker by comparison, and he wore antiquated horn-rimmed glasses despite his more than perfect vision.

It wasn't a perfect disguise by any means, but as far as anyone could tell Clark Kent was just a guy who kind of looked like Superman. As far as the rest of Metropolis was concerned, Superman didn't even have a secret identity. Why would he? It's not like he wore a mask. At least Clark hoped that was the impression. He'd been leading the double life in Metropolis for nearly a decade now. Only his family and a few close friends in Smallville knew the truth, with one beautiful exception.

While things like being a second too late for the elevator door were helpful in reenforcing his 'normal' persona, Clark was still running late, and this old building only had one slow-moving lift. He checked his watch before curiously poking his head in the stairwell. No surveillance equipment there that he could detect, even when looking through the stairs and walls on multiple wavelengths. No people either, and the rooftop restaurant was twenty stories up.

At the top floor, Clark exited the stairwell with none the wiser. The elevator opened to reveal the same man who had closed the door on him in the lobby, and Clark had to stop himself from grinning smugly at him. The rude commuter was already confused enough and second-guessing his vision. Instead he politely went up to the host. "Hello. I have a reservation for two under Kent."

"Ah yes, Mr. Kent. The lady is already seated. Shall I show you to your table sir?"

Clark sighed and hoped she hadn't been waiting long. "Thanks, but I'll find her."

It didn't take x-ray vision to find the dark-haired beauty in a black evening gown, slowly sipping a glass of wine. To anyone else she was just another well-dressed classy woman, but to Clark she was by far the most beautiful and fascinating in the room if not the entire city.

Clark tried but failed to wipe the grin off his face as he approached and sat down. "I hope I haven't kept you too long."

"Traffic again?" Lois asked sarcastically.

"You know how it is in Metropolis."

"As if you of all people had any business being stuck in traffic," she commented softly. "You can fly from here to China in the blink of an eye but you can't get to a dinner date on time."

Actually he couldn't. Fly across the world that fast that is. Breaking the speed of sound for anything less than an emergency was a bad idea unless he wanted a lot of collateral damage everywhere he went. Accelerating too fast could even ignite the atmosphere. At his normal speed it took a couple hours just to get to Smallville. But all that was beside the point. Clark could have mentioned as such, but he was in enough trouble as is. "I'm sorry, Lois. Tell me how I can make it up to you."

The famed reporter blushed. She had a quick temper and a sharp wit that was sometimes difficult to turn off. "No, it's okay. I shouldn't have snapped."

"Long day?"

"Yeah, you could say that."

The two made small talk, conversing about their respective days and reminiscing about the past. Their table was private enough that they could speak freely without other patrons listening in on their conversation.

Clark and Lois had been dating off and on again for years, their relationship status currently being 'on.' There was no question that they were in love, but Clark's double life as Superman and Lois's reluctance for a long-term serious relationship left things progressing slowly.

Lois had been the reason Clark got into journalism and moved to Metropolis, having won a Pullitzer when she was 16 and becoming the Daily Planet's star reporter by her early 20's. Clark had started his journalism career fresh out of college interning as Lois Lane's personal assistant, a position most would quit within a week due to the ridiculous workload and timetable. There were more tasks in less time than was humanly possible. Fortunately Clark had certain advantages to help him succeed, which in retrospect was what probably first clued Lois in.

Although Clark was careful to keep his extracurricular activities as Superman as distant as possible from his personal life, Lois's inquisitive nature and close working relationship with him eventually led her to the truth: an old spaceship tucked away in an abandoned cellar not far from the Kent farm.

The only thing keeping Lois from publishing the story of her career was that, by that point, Clark was a good loyal friend who had proved himself an honest man in a career field populated by sharks, scavengers, and muckrakers. Not to mention Superman had saved her from certain death more times than she could count, though admittedly throwing herself off a building to get his attention may not have been the best way to ask for an interview.

Even after they'd started formally dating, Clark never lost that innocence. For a man who was responsible for saving thousands if not millions of lives over his superhero career, Clark was still just an old-fashioned country boy. Sometimes Lois would notice a hint of sadness in his eye, a sign that someone, somewhere wasn't saved in time. But Clark always made a concerted effort to hide that sorrow. Tonight he was his usual self, as cute and nervous now as he was on their first date.

"Clark, we need to talk." That only made this all the more difficult.

"Isn't that what we were doing?"

"About something else," Lois said as she reached into her purse. She pulled out a couple small magazines and slid them across the table. Tabloids from the street corner, the kind with shocking scandals about celebrities, politicians and aliens or some combination thereof. This week the rag was headlining the president being a vampire and Jessie Eisenberg attending neo Nazi rallies. It was that kind of "journalism."

Between the pages on celebrity exposes and UFO sightings were the source of Lois: a small set of blurry photographs featuring the same woman but two different men. Although out of focus, Clark could tell the woman in the photos was Lois, if for no other reason that the men she was with were Clark and Superman respectively.

Clark cast a worried glance at Lois before speed reading the article associated with the picture, before finally breathing a sigh of relief. "For a second there I thought someone might be catching on. You had me worried there."

Lois's scowl conveyed a different reaction. "No, it just says that Clark Kent is a schmuck whose girlfriend is cheating on him with Superman. Because that's so much better."

"Is Lois Lane trading her boyfriend for a younger, hotter, 'Super' model?" Clark jokingly read from the article. "Do I look old or something? I guess I should be more offended, but as a writer I have to appreciate the wordplay." Despite Clark's brevity, Lois's persistent glare left him feeling like a scorned puppy as he sheepishly apologized. "Sorry, Lois, I was just trying to lighten the mood a bit. It's not all that bad. No one really takes this sort of crap seriously anyway."

"But people will eventually start asking questions, Clark. You... you and Superman I guess, you're both too good for the rest of the world to accept. Whenever the public sees something so perfect they can't help but look for flaws. It's the way we're raised. Everything and everyone is hiding some dirty little secret, and if something seems good that only means what's hidden is that much worse. Never mind the possibility that some day someone might figure out your double life..."

"I've managed this long, haven't I?"

"You've been more than a bit lucky, considering you've already been discovered by a reporter who's just been sitting on the biggest story of her career for years," Lois muttered as she sipped another glass of wine.

The story of Lois Lane's career: The uncensored version of her interview with Superman. The one that revealed every detail about the Man of Steel's life. The one that would remain unpublished as long as Lois cared for Superman's well-being, despite every journalistic instinct telling her otherwise. "You wouldn't..."

"And I won't," Lois reassured him. "Neither you or Superman deserve that kind of treatment. You aren't some corrupt executive or attention-seeking celebrity, you're a legitimate hero. But this makes Superman look like an a woman-stealing scumbag, Clark Kent look like an oblivious tool, and me look like a two-timing slut."

Clark was quick to respond, "No one thinks that about you. Certainly not me. Or Superman for that matter."

"But at this rate, they will," Lois objected. "I don't care what people think of me, but I can't watch you or Superman get raked through the muck like that."

The mild-mannered reporter searched for the right words. Anything to try and dissuade Lois from what he knew was coming. "Lois, come on. We're bigger than this. What we have is more important than some blurry pictures."

But he knew it was already too late. "I'm sorry, Clark. It's over."

It wasn't the first time Clark had heard those words, but they cut deep nonetheless, like Kryptonite straight to the heart. There was nothing he could say, and what was supposed to be a romantic, wonderful evening would be memorable for completely different reasons.

"I've already paid for both of us. Feel free to have a few drinks on my tab." The damage had been done, and Lois couldn't force herself to sit through the remainder of the evening. She gathered her things and leaned over to Clark, who was still suffering speechlessly through post-breakup trauma, planting one last goodbye kiss on his cheek. She quickly and quietly left the restaurant before her mascara started to run, as the first tears were already starting to fall.

What was probably only a few minutes seemed like hours as Clark played it over in his mind, wondering what he could have done or said differently. If he'd spent more time with Lois as Clark and less time as Superman, would things have turned out better?

He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a small jewelry box, remoresefully eyeing but not opening it. Tonight was supposed to have been special.

The waiter approached the table, his sympathetic look conveying that he already knew the whole story, or at least what was important. "Ms. Lane left instructions to charge the meal to her account. Given the circumstances, if I may be so bold, may I recommend some of the more expensive items from our or wine list?"

"I guess I'm not the first patron to be dumped before dessert, huh?" Clark Kent put the small box away and managed a weak smile. "But I'm not holding a grudge or anything. I'm not going to go on some vindictive gourmet meal on her expense, even if it was her idea."

"Very well, sir. Please take your time, and if you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

The waiter turned to leave, when Clark spoke up. "Actually, now that you mention it, I could really use a drink. On my tab that is."

"And what will you be having, sir?"

"Something hard, and lots of it."

It was still going to be a long night ahead of him.

It was the next morning, where the light of the early dawn hadn't quite peaked over the horizon, in that quiet hour where the nightlife had finally retired but the rest of Metropolis had yet to awaken.

Yet even at this hour, a few inner city teenagers roamed the streets, dumpster diving for fresh pickings before the garbage truck could take all the good stuff. While two kids rifled through a dumpster, a third kept watch for the police or other more dangerous criminals.

"Guys, someone's coming!" The nervous youngster on watch was easily spooked and called many false alarms that turned out to be stray cats or trash in the wind. Still, it was better to be overly cautious as the youngsters scrambled and hid.

A single head poked out of the shadow first before the rest of the man stumbled forward, having trouble keeping balance. His dark hair was an uncombed messed. He reeked of dirt and trash, and could barely walk straight. Still a face like his was easy to recognize, especially in Metropolis. "Guys, I... I think that's Superman." Unfortunately there was no S-shield or cape for easy identification. In fact there was nothing at all as the man was completely naked.

"How can you tell?" 'Superman' stumbled in zig zag patterns before bumping into a dumpster with a loud metal clang. He angrily tossed the dumpster across the alley with a single hand. "Okay, yeah, that's him."

The youngest of the teenagers cautiously approached. "Gabby! What're you doin'?!" the others said quietly, trying to get his attention without alerting Superman.

The little scraggly orphan paid the others no mind as he cautiously approached the disgruntled naked man. "Excuse me, you're Superman, right?" Gabby asked meekly.

"Shluperman?" he slurred with rank breath. "Super. Super-duper. I'm Super-duper-superman!"

"Where's your costume, Superman?"

Superman patted himself down, only suddenly realizing something important was missing and why everything felt so drafty. "I shleem to have mish... mishpol... misplaye... I don't know where my clothes are," he said after several tries. "Do you know where my clothes are?"

Gabby shook his head. "But there's a store around he corner where you can get some new clothes. Come on, I'll show you!" The kid ran out the alley around the corner onto an abandoned street. Superman shuffled behind him, and only after both were out of sight did the two other teenagers get the courage to venture out of their hiding spot and check on their friend.

Before they could get around the corner, there was a loud shattering of glass. They dashed around the corner to find Gabby flustered but otherwise harmed, and Superman was inside the broken display window of an adult store.

He had somehow managed to find blue leather pants and squeeze into them, and was currently struggling with the top of a novelty costume far too small for someone of his size (and gender), but after some struggling Superman managed to squeeze into the form-fitting top. After checking himself in the mirror and adjusting the S on his chest to match, Superman scratched his head thoughtfully. "Missing something," he muttered.

He grabbed some torn red lace curtains from the store window and tied them around his neck, completing the 'iconic' look. Beaming proudly as his work, Superman turned to the kids and smiled, still seemingly barely able to stand. "Don't do school and stay in drugs!" With that Superman launched into the air, flying straight up and crashing through the building while the kids stared dumbfounded.

Once the rubble settled, the oldest kid broke the silence. "What the hell was he on?"

It was a busy morning for Power Girl. She hadn't even had time for a quick breakfast and already she had to rush five people to the emergency room, clear up three traffic accidents, and fix a derailed train.

More disturbing were the reports that she just couldn't bring herself to believe, that all these accidents and injuries were caused either directly or indirectly by none other than Superman. She had to find Kal to be sure, if she could ever find a moment between saving another human in danger.

Just when she thought she had a break, her heightened senses caught something small and orange arcing high through the air. After identifying it, her eyes widened as she zoomed at max speed to catch it. Power Girl managed to intercept and bundle the furball in her arms without hurting it.

The little orange tabby's fur was standing completely on end and it's claws dug into Power Girl's uniform. Fortunately they couldn't pierce her skin, but that didn't stop the kitten from hanging on for dear life. "Shh, it's okay, I got you."

Doing what she could to soothe the creature's terror, she flew back to where it originated. To her shock and surprise, Superman was standing in front of a tear-soaked little girl who was holding what looked like a leash, only it was wrapped around an uprooted oak that lay on the sidewalk nearby.

"And that's why you should always spay and neuter your trees."

Power Girl immediately landed, positioning herself between Superman and the girl. "Kitty!" the girl cried happiness as the terrorized cat scrambled to its owner.

"Be careful," Superman said still slurring. "I just shaved this girl's pet tree from a vishoush predator."

"Get far away from here. Now," Power Girl said softly to the girl, who nodded and ran off. "All right. Explain."

"I'm Super-duper-superman! I'm here to shave the day!"

"You need to shave all right. And take a shower. And probably detox for a week. And what the hell is up with your uniform? Clark, what's going on?"

"Who's Clark? I'm Shooperman!"

"You're drunk. Or stoned or whatever. I'm not even sure how. I'm taking you someplace where you can sleep this off for a while."

Superman started tuning Power Girl out and absent-mindedly pet the tree. "Aw, I think he likes you! Wanna play?"

"I mean it. I'll find a drunk tank that can hold even you if I have to."

"All right then, boy, let's play." Superman wrapped both arms around the tree, and as Power Girl approached, swung it around like a bat, knocking.Power a Girl miles away instantly like a pop fly. Superman dropped the tree and pointed towards the distant speck. "Now fetch!"

The tree never responded, much to Superman's disappointment.

Super senses sometimes had their drawbacks, like the fierce, persistent banging at the door. Clark shuffled out of bed and somehow grabbed his glasses without crushing them. Considering he'd already destroyed the alarm clock and half the furniture in his apartment, he'd call that a success.

"Go away!" he loudly groaned, the hangover migraine still pounding away at his skull. "Tell Perry I'm taking a sick day!"

The knocking stopped long enough only for the tiny jingle of keys to take its place, quickly unlocking the door. A key meant only one other person. "Lois if you want your stuff back you can come get it later. For god's sake can I at least get 24 hours to recover after being dumped."

Lois Lane, now in her professional business suit, yanked the blanket off of Clark. "What the hell is wrong with you, Lois?!"

"What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you?" Lois yelled as she threw open the nearby curtains. The sunlight would do Clark good at least. "Everyone's talking about Superman's very public drunken rampage. Did anything I say get through to you last night? Or is all this somehow to spite me?"

"Slow down, Lois. What are you talking about?"

"Do you even remember last night, or this morning for that matter?!"

"How could I forget? You made sure I wouldn't," Clark grumbled as he forced himself out of bed, Lois's words still not quite registering. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"I had to beg Perry not to plaster this all over the Planet, but even then the only reason you've got until the evening edition is because today's papers had already been delivered by then."

"Lois, you're not making any sense."

"You're not making any sense! I mean, come on, Clark! After everything I said about Superman's image, you had to go and do all this?" Lois's rant continued.

"I didn't do anything! I had a few drinks and came straight home!" Clark insisted.

"Then how do you explain all this?"

At that moment, outside the window over the skyline of Metropolis, a hovering fire truck passed by the window. Lois and Clark stopped their arguing to confusedly stare. The truck was being carried by 'Superman' despite the obvious contradiction in Clark never having left his apartment. 'Superman' hurled the fire truck at a blazing bulldog fire that no doubt 'Superman' started.

"If you're here, then who's that?" Lois asked, realizing her mistake as Clark, who a split second ago was dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers, was now in full proper costume, clean and shaven.

"Interview later, Lois. Right now, as much as I'd never thought I'd say this, I've got to go stop Superman." He launched in a blur out the apartment window, a risk of exposure he wouldn't normally take except in emergencies such as these.

Whoever the impostor was, he kept busy and moved quick. In the second it took Clark to suit up, 'Superman' had vanished again, likely causing more trouble elsewhere.

Something slammed into him from above, dive-tackling him into the streets before he had a chance to react. Standing above him with a raised fist and a black eye was Power Girl, grimacing in rage. "All right, Clark. You want to play rough? Let's play!"

"Power Girl, wait!" Superman gasped as Power Girl's boot dug into his neck.

"Done waiting!" Power Girl yelled as she threw down the next punch at Superman's head.

To be continued...