The flight back to Metropolis was quiet, both reporters lost in thought about the confrontation at Caesar's Palace. Lois spent most of the time reviewing her notes, occasionally muttering about shipping manifests and geological anomalies, while Clark pretended to nap, his mind racing with everything they'd uncovered in Vegas.
They filed their initial story about the Apogee Awards ceremony from the Daily Planet newsroom that evening. It was straightforward coverage - Tony Stark's absence, Obadiah Stane accepting on his behalf, the usual corporate platitudes about innovation and progress. But they both knew it was just the surface of a much bigger story.
"Something still doesn't add up about those mineral shipments," Lois said, scanning through cargo manifests on her computer. "Why would weapons manufacturers suddenly be interested in geology?"
Before Clark could respond, Jimmy Olsen burst into the newsroom, waving a printout from the news wire. "Turn on the TV! Now!"
Perry White emerged from his office as someone flipped on the newsroom's main screen. The image showed Tony Stark's convoy in Afghanistan, or what was left of it - burning vehicles, scattered debris, signs of a violent ambush. The news anchor's voice was grim as she reported that Tony Stark had been taken captive by a terrorist organization known as the Ten Rings.
The newsroom erupted in chaos as reporters scrambled to update their stories. But Clark barely heard any of it. His enhanced vision was fixed on the footage being shown - the scattered pieces of Stark technology, the strange green glow barely visible in some of the wreckage, the marks of weapons that seemed far too advanced for a typical terrorist group.
"Those aren't normal weapons," he murmured, mostly to himself.
"What?" Lois looked up from her furious typing.
"The damage patterns," Clark said carefully. "Look at how clean those cuts are through the armored vehicles. That's not standard military hardware."
Lois's eyes narrowed as she studied the footage. "You think this has something to do with those shipments? The ones Stane and Luthor were so interested in?"
Clark nodded slowly, pieces clicking into place. "Rocks that need special containment. Advanced weapons appearing in unexpected places. Corbin's warnings about things 'changing' people..."
The pieces were there, but he couldn't quite see the full picture. Not yet. But one thing was becoming increasingly clear - the world was changing. New threats were emerging, threats that ordinary law enforcement and military forces might not be equipped to handle.
"I need some air," he said suddenly, standing up. "Just... need to clear my head."
Lois barely looked up from her computer, already deep into rewriting their story to incorporate the breaking news. "Don't go far, Smallville. I have a feeling this is just the beginning."
She had no idea how right she was.
An hour later, Clark stood in the Fortress of Solitude, the Arctic wind howling outside while Kelex and the other robots worked at their various stations. The command key pulsed steadily in its central console as Jor-El's hologram materialized.
"You have returned sooner than expected, my son," Jor-El observed.
"Something's happening, father," Clark said, pacing the crystal floor. "These minerals they're finding - I think they're Kryptonian in origin. Pieces of our world that came with my ship, scattered across Earth. And now they're being weaponized."
"The destruction of Krypton would have sent debris across the galaxy," Jor-El confirmed. "Some fragments may indeed have followed your trajectory to Earth."
"And with Stark missing..." Clark shook his head. "The timing of all this feels wrong. Those shipping manifests Lois found, the way Stane and Luthor are acting... something bigger is going on."
Jor-El studied his son for a moment. "You believe it's time to do more."
"I can't just watch anymore," Clark said. "Not with everything that's happening."
Jor-El nodded, then gestured to one of the crystal walls. It shifted smoothly, revealing a hidden chamber. Inside, suspended in a gentle field of energy, was a suit unlike anything on Earth.
"Your mother designed this before you were born," Jor-El said simply. "I made some modifications before we sent you to Earth, but the heart of it - the colors, the symbol - that was all Lara. She wanted you to have something of home."
Clark approached the suit slowly. The familiar 'S' shield caught the light, and he remembered seeing it for the first time as a child in the storm cellar. "She made this for me?"
"She believed you would need to inspire people someday. The suit will protect you, respond to your powers. But more importantly, it will let people see you clearly - not as a threat, but as someone here to help."
Clark touched the cape - the same one he'd been wrapped in as a baby. The fabric felt both familiar and new, like meeting an old friend after many years.
He was about to say more when alarms started blaring throughout the Fortress. Multiple screens lit up with news feeds from Metropolis, each showing a different angle of chaos unfolding in the city's streets.
"High-speed pursuit in progress," Kelex announced. "Three armed suspects fleeing failed bank robbery at Metropolis First National. Multiple civilian vehicles damaged. Police pursuit compromised by heavy traffic on Clarke Avenue."
The screens showed live helicopter footage of a black sedan weaving through traffic, the suspects firing wildly at pursuing police cars. A news ticker scrolled across the bottom: "ARMED ROBBERY TURNS VIOLENT - THREE OFFICERS INJURED - SUSPECTS CONSIDERED EXTREMELY DANGEROUS"
Clark looked at the suit, then at his father's hologram. "Guess it's time."
"Then go," Jor-El said. "Show them what you can do."
Clark reached for the suit, the fabric responding to his touch. As he changed, piece by piece, he felt the transformation happening - not just physically, but in his whole bearing. The boots, sturdy but light. The blue suit that moved like a second skin. Each element felt right, as if he'd been wearing it his whole life.
When he fastened the cape across his shoulders, something clicked into place. The suit wasn't a costume or a uniform - it was a declaration. No more hiding, no more holding back. He caught his reflection in one of the crystal walls and almost didn't recognize himself. Gone was the careful slouch, the hesitant posture. The figure looking back at him stood tall, shoulders straight, ready to face whatever came.
"How do you feel?" Jor-El asked.
"Like myself," Clark replied. "Maybe for the first time."
The alarms continued blaring. On the screens, the black sedan was leaving a trail of chaos through downtown Metropolis. Clark took one last look at his father's hologram, then lifted off, accelerating through the Fortress's opening and into the Arctic sky.
The flight to Metropolis took seconds, the suit adapting perfectly to the incredible speeds. From high above, he could see the whole chase - three police cars trying to box in the sedan, which was weaving erratically through lunch-hour traffic. One of the robbers was leaning out the window, firing bursts from an automatic weapon that sent pedestrians diving for cover.
The city spread out below him, familiar yet different from this height. He'd flown over it countless times before, always hidden in the clouds. But now, in broad daylight, in these colors - this was different. This was stepping into the light.
As Clark watched, planning his approach, the sedan clipped a delivery truck, sending it into a spin. The truck sideswiped a silver Honda, which careened toward the sidewalk where a crowd was gathered outside the Daily Bean coffee shop. Among them was a young boy in a Metropolis Meteors cap, frozen in terror as the car spun toward him.
Clark didn't hesitate. He dove, the air crackling around him as he pushed his speed. Time seemed to slow as his enhanced senses took in every detail - the boy's wide eyes, the screaming pedestrians, the exact trajectory of the spinning car. His hands caught the Honda's frame just before impact, absorbing its momentum and setting it down as gently as a parent laying a sleeping child in bed.
The boy's Meteors cap had fallen off in the commotion. Clark picked it up, brushing off some coffee shop dust before kneeling to hand it back. Around them, the world seemed to hold its breath. The usual city noise dimmed as people stared, trying to process what they'd just seen.
"You okay?" he asked, making his voice gentle despite the adrenaline of the moment.
The boy nodded, eyes wide with wonder rather than fear now. "Yeah. Cool costume."
Clark smiled, remembering his own childhood love of heroes. "Thanks. My mom made it for me."
People were gathering now, phones raised to capture this impossible moment. The crowd from the coffee shop had been joined by office workers and shoppers, all staring at the figure in blue and red who had appeared from nowhere to save them. Some were backing away, others stepping closer, but all wore expressions of pure amazement.
"Who... what are you?" a woman in a business suit asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Clark stood up straight, letting them see him clearly. In that moment, he could feel the weight of every eye on him, hear the whispered exclamations and racing heartbeats. A child pointed at his chest, at the symbol there.
"Look at the 'S'!" someone called out.
"Is he flying?" another voice asked as Clark's feet lifted slightly off the ground.
He rose about a foot in the air, wanting to show them clearly what he could do while trying not to frighten them. The crowd gasped collectively, phones and cameras clicking rapidly.
"I'm Superman," he said simply, letting his voice carry naturally to the gathered crowd. The name felt right - not boastful, but straightforward. A description more than a title.
The robbers' sedan was still causing havoc in the distance. Superman turned to face that direction, but paused to address the crowd one more time. "Those men need to be stopped before anyone else gets hurt. Is everyone here alright?"
Nods and murmured affirmatives answered him. The boy with the cap gave him a thumbs up.
Superman smiled, then began to rise higher. The crowd's eyes followed him up, faces filled with wonder. Someone started clapping, then others joined in. A cheer went up from the gathering below.
"Go get 'em, Superman!" the boy with the cap called out.
With a nod to the crowd, Superman accelerated toward the fleeing car, leaving a gust of wind that ruffled hair and loose papers. Behind him, he could hear the excited chatter erupting - phones being dialed, texts being sent, social media exploding with the news. The world was about to change.
The sedan was six blocks ahead now, the robbers having used the chaos of the accident to gain ground. Superman caught up in seconds, analyzing the situation as he flew. Three men, all armed, clearly desperate. The driver was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, making his driving even more erratic.
Instead of catching the car - which might injure the suspects - Superman landed in the street ahead of them, standing calmly in their path. His cape billowed slightly in the wind as traffic cleared around him, drivers finally noticing what was happening and pulling to the sides of the road.
The sedan's driver, seeing him blocking their escape route, gunned the engine instead of braking. Maybe he thought Superman would dive out of the way. Maybe panic had overtaken reason. Either way, the car accelerated straight at him, engine roaring as it closed the distance.
Superman didn't move. The sedan struck him at nearly fifty miles per hour - and stopped dead, its front end crumpling around him like paper around a rock. The airbags deployed with loud pops, and the back end of the car actually lifted off the ground from the impact before settling back down with a crash of suspension.
He hadn't even shifted his feet.
Steam hissed from the ruined radiator as Superman stepped away from the wreck, the impression of his body clearly visible in the crumpled hood. The car's front end was completely accordioned, but the passenger compartment was intact - exactly as he'd intended. The safety systems had done their job; no one inside would be seriously hurt.
The three men inside stared through the windshield, their faces masks of disbelief. For a moment, nobody moved. A piece of the hood fell off with a metallic clang that seemed to break the spell.
The driver's door burst open, and the tallest robber stumbled out. He was older than the others, maybe mid-forties, with gray showing in his stubble. His hands shook as he raised his assault rifle.
"Don't move!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "I mean it! Stay right there!"
The other doors opened, his partners joining him. The one from the passenger seat was built like a linebacker, while the youngest climbed out from the back, looking barely old enough to drink. All three had their weapons trained on Superman, but he could hear their racing heartbeats, smell their fear.
"Nobody needs to get hurt here," Superman said calmly, keeping his hands visible. He took a slow step forward, letting them see he wasn't afraid of their guns. "You've got a choice to make. Right now, nobody's dead. Let's keep it that way."
"The hell are you supposed to be?" the youngest one demanded, brandishing his handgun. His nose was bleeding slightly from the airbag impact, and his eyes were wild with panic. "Some kind of government experiment?"
"Just someone who wants to help," Superman replied, taking another step. "Even you, if you'll let me."
"Help?" the big one laughed nervously. "We just tried to run you over!"
"And how'd that work out?" Superman gestured at the wreck behind him. "Look, I get it. You're scared. But this ends one of two ways - either you put the guns down and we do this peacefully, or..."
The tallest one opened fire first, the sound of his assault rifle deafening in the canyon of buildings. The other two joined in a second later, emptying their magazines in blind panic. Bullets struck Superman's chest and face, flattening harmlessly against his skin before falling to the ground with quiet plinks.
When their guns clicked empty, there was a moment of stunned silence. A spent shell casing rolled down the street, its tiny sound impossibly loud in the quiet. Superman looked down at the pile of crushed bullets at his feet, then back at the robbers with a raised eyebrow.
"Are you done?" he asked.
The youngest one, pure panic overtaking reason, swung his empty gun like a club at Superman's head. The weapon shattered on impact, pieces of metal scattering across the pavement.
Superman gave him a look of amused disbelief. "Seriously? If the bullets didn't work, why would you think that would?"
The big one tried to rush him, probably hoping his size would make a difference. Superman sidestepped easily, letting the man's momentum carry him past. A gentle tap - barely a touch by his standards - sent the robber sprawling onto his stomach.
"What... what are you?" the driver stammered, backing away.
"Right now? Someone who's trying really hard to be patient." Superman moved faster than their eyes could follow, appearing suddenly behind them. "But my patience has limits."
The youngest one took a wild swing that Superman easily dodged. The big one was trying to get up. But the older one - the driver - seemed to realize the futility of their situation.
"Bobby, Danny, stop!" he called to his partners. "Just... stop. We're done."
Superman nodded approvingly as the man raised his hands. "Smart choice."
A few quick movements - careful not to hurt them despite their actions - and all three men found themselves sitting on the curb. He used their own zip ties to secure their wrists, making sure they were snug but not tight enough to cut off circulation.
Police cars surrounded them, officers approaching with a mix of caution and awe. Many had their weapons drawn, though none seemed quite sure whether to point them at the robbers or the flying man in blue.
"It's okay," Superman called to the officers. "They're secured. No one's seriously hurt."
He carefully gathered the crushed bullets and weapon parts, noting how the officers tensed as he moved. Trust would take time. He handed the evidence to the nearest officer, a young patrolman who looked like he might faint.
"The driver has a cut on his head that should probably be looked at," Superman told him. "And the young one's nose might be broken from the airbag."
"Hold on," a sergeant called out, holstering his weapon. He was older, with salt-and-pepper hair and the look of someone who'd seen it all. Until now. "We need a statement. Who are you exactly?"
"The bank's insured," the older robber spoke up suddenly from the curb. "Nobody was supposed to get hurt. My kid's sick, needs treatment we can't..."
"There are better ways," Superman told him quietly. "People who can help, if you know where to look." He turned to the sergeant. "I'll help him get in touch with the right organizations, if you'll let me."
The sergeant studied him for a long moment. "You some kind of vigilante?"
Superman floated up slightly, drawing gasps from the growing crowd that had gathered to watch. "No, sir. Just someone here to help."
Then he was gone, straight up into the sky. Below, hundreds of phones captured his ascent, the red cape bright against the blue. News helicopters tried to follow but quickly lost him in the clouds.
—
In the Daily Planet newsroom, Lois Lane stared at the footage playing on every screen. The helicopter shots were already going viral - a mysterious figure in blue and red, stopping a car with his bare hands, floating into the sky like gravity was optional.
"Perry!" she yelled, already grabbing her coat. "I want this story!"
Perry White emerged from his office, watching the footage with a mix of skepticism and excitement. "It's yours. But where the hell is Kent? This is all happening right outside!"
Cat Grant looked up from her desk where she was already working her phone. "Please tell me someone's getting pictures of this. The Planet can't get scooped on something happening literally outside our building."
"Got it covered!" Jimmy Olsen burst in, camera in hand, slightly out of breath. "Chief! I got some shots of the flying guy! He moved so fast it was hard to focus, but I think I got a few good ones!"
"Get them developed NOW," Perry ordered. "Lane, take Jimmy's camera and get down there. Interview everyone who saw him. I want eyewitness accounts, police statements, everything. And somebody find Kent!"
Steve Lombard, the sports columnist, leaned against his desk watching the footage. "Come on, this has got to be some kind of stunt. Maybe for that new Bruce Willis movie they're filming downtown?"
"A stunt?" Ron Troupe scoffed, already heading for the elevator. "Steve, I just watched this guy catch a speeding car like it was a tennis ball. This is real."
The newsroom erupted into controlled chaos. Cat was already calling her contacts at City Hall. "Mayor's office isn't commenting yet, but my source says they're in emergency meetings... Yes, I'll hold for the Commissioner..."
"Associated Press is on line one!" someone shouted.
"Reuters on line two!"
"CNN's asking for footage!"
Perry surveyed the chaos with practiced calm. "Listen up, people! This is the biggest story to hit Metropolis since Luthor built his tower. I want angles no one else has. Background on the bank robbery. Witness interviews. Expert analysis on the physics of what we just saw. And will somebody please find Kent?"
Lois glanced at Clark's empty desk, a slight frown crossing her face. Her partner had been acting strange ever since Vegas, and now he was missing the biggest story of the year? "He said he needed air," she muttered. "Probably got caught up in all the chaos outside."