Fires ran across the city. They streaked across streets, shot across buildings, and spewed from faucets. The fires danced, smothering horrified citizens as they draped over them like erotic dancers. Cyborg flying monkeys, once average citizens of far-off worlds themselves, rained fiery hell down on those below them. These ‘Parademons’, a frightening shade of green, filled the skies over Metropolis. Cries of war escaped their jagged, unkempt jaws like roars as they slaughtered countless citizens, police and soldiers. Were the clouds dark from the smoke or were they simply blackened by the sorrows of those lost to invasion?
No stars were visible that night. When the night had begun none could recall. The orange, the red and the black colored the world of Metropolis. It was as if a new time of day had supplanted the others, replacing the dark and the light with only the fire.
No stars were visible that night. The blackened and orange sky was littered only with the harsh green of the Parademons and their general. A black and red armor shielded his body, not from bullets or mortars, but from the ability of the human mind to humanize their foe and make them somehow vulnerable. The General, adorning a full-head helmet with horns spouting from atop, commanded with mere hand gestures. “Burn the schools and libraries. Make sure not to neglect the harbors!” They were words spoken, yet no words were spoken.
Concentrated fire poured over Metropolis Elementary School. School pets scorched, faculty fried and children died. There was no hiding, there was no refuge. This was not war, this was conquest.
The screams of a young girl filled the air. Smoke and dust filled her lungs in return as her legs laid helplessly beneath rubble. The Mother screamed for help only for her voice to be washed out by rumbling mortars. A shadow passed over The Mother, stealing her attention. “Please, help my daughter!!!” her cracked lips cried, “Oh God, the screams!” Appeasing the appeal, The General landed upon the skull of the child, crushing it. Blood splattered and shot every which way, coloring the soot-stained face of The Mother, filling the sidewalk, and gracing even The General’s war helmet. The General planted his flag pole into the sidewalk, inspiring a sound both quick and clean. Sewn cleanly into one side of the flag was the emblem of Darkseid. The General doffed his helmet, revealing—
—cut to black.
***
‘Again…that nightmare.’
Coolness and wetness penetrated Superman, both back and fore. The Man of Steel awoke suddenly, finding himself floating atop an ocean face-up. Rain pounded on his face but the swishing of the ocean drowned out its sound. There was only the swishing.
Clark struggled to feel his own fingers, let alone move; the dark clouds above frightened him, foreboding and encapsulating. If his throat had not been so dry the Earth-raised Kryptonian would have cursed as he summoned up every fiber of his being to levitate out of the water. Only inches above the water, Superman fell back into the grasp of the torrential ocean below. Lying there, once again only his face above water, Clark Kent looked side-to-side. There was nothing but water as far as his bleary eyes could see.
Mister Kent still couldn’t feel his fingers. Sticking his hands in cold water and snow had never numbed him before. Clark struggled to raise his right hand above the water to look at it. ‘Sleeve’s gone,’ he noticed first. Then he noticed the real problem. His freakishly large palm, which he had used desperately to try and push back the tower of light, was charred. Skin and flesh, he found, had begun to slip right off bone. The reaction was delayed but it didn’t take Kryptonian super-vision to see the face of The Man of Steel change from distant to shear horror, like a thousand photos taken by the millisecond.
A shriek quieted the sashaying oceans.
Every fiber of Clark Kent’s being screamed, hotter than red, redder than hot, as he tore through the skies. Superman braved the ominous, foreboding black clouds that dared to blanket him. It was like trying to punch through molasses. A bolt of lightning slammed into his neck from which direction he knew not.
Within his mind Clark saw the face of a woman—somehow familiar—smiling, brushing back her dark hair, doffing her glasses to give the hero a knowing—if annoyed—look. There was a feeling of desire, but a spirit too weak.
Cut down like a ronin, Superman tumbled back down through the clouds.
The woman stared, demanding of him indignantly.
‘No!’ his mind’s voice thundered, ‘No!!’ Superman regained his composure and stopped his descent, just below the ceiling that those damned clouds had become. The clouds seemed to reach down toward him, turning and twisting like funnels to crash him back into the ocean. Lightning traveled down and spiraled around these pillar-esque clouds, threatening to burn through his very neural pathways.
The woman frowned. Tears escaped her eyes as she reached out for him. Darkness threatened to swallow her up. Darkness threatened to take away her chance.
“No!!!” His shout seemed to move the very heavens themselves, splitting open a path. A crazed look did not simply adorn The Man of Steel’s face, it defined it. His was an animal’s scowl, carved expertly by experience into his searing flesh.
Clark Kent tore through the gap between the massive darkness that dared obstruct him. Light from a long forgotten sun bathed him, rejuvenating him bit-by-bit. Warmth at last, not from mutilated hands or a body drenched in sweat, but from a sun that welcomed him like a baby to its mother’s teat. Past the sky, through the unnoticed chill of space, Clark Kent reached out and—
***
They ran through veins, they swam through tunnels, never resting until they completed their trek as old as time. Five hundred million strong, they scrambled to the finish line—to the prize. The Two Hundred Fifty Millionth Racer blazed through the first gate, leaving introductions to those left behind. The Two Hundred Fifty Millionth Racer stole past the second gate, the doors furious to have been tricked even as they blocked those before and those after. When confronted with the challenge of the third gate The Two Hundred Fifty Millionth Racer did no more than embrace it, sweet-talking its way inside of the hen coop. Then, having reached its prize, The Remaining Racer bid farewell to its independence and gave every fiber of its being to the eggs within.
A spark flickered. Four hundred ninety-nine million lights had died out. One had survived to take its prize. Two had become one. Now, there was but the spark. One day the spark became a light, flickering in the dark. A day some time after that, the light had grown strong and warm. Life was formed in the dark. Life survived in the dark. Life learned of the light beyond the dark. Life grew in the dark. Life waited for the light beyond the dark. Life lived in the dark. Life grew strong in the dark. Life escaped the dark. Life lived in the light. Life was embraced by The Mother and The Father. Life fed on the breast of its Mother. Life grew strong off her milk.
Finally, life left the light.
***
The stars all seemed so tangible to Clark Kent as he slowly birthed from the light of the sun. Thousands of blobs no bigger than a gnats danced, ran, and bounced off one another; it was as if the supermarket had had a fire sale on coffee. Every solar energy-storing cell within his body brimmed with energy. Not a crack remained in his bones, not a mark, scar, burn or stain marred his skin. The sudden rejuvenation of his person had kicked his hair follicles into overdrive, forcing the journalist-by-day to pluck from his armpits and crotch overgrown hair. A new beard and mane adorning his head drew attention to themselves quickly. Scowling at the sensation of a beard, Clark tore each hair from his face with immense speed. Emitting an aura that danced in arches like the fires atop the sun, Superman flew back to Planet Nele to face his foe revived…but not reborn.
The members of the Justice League watched on in stunned silence. Computer hums and raised heartbeats were the only sounds to fill the Watchtower. The distinct clinking-and-clanking of shackles tainted that. Kicking his feet lightly in place, a perched Vegeta smirked as he took in the horror before him.
“Aww, hell!” A strained shout escaped from Guy Gardner, making him the first to break the dreadful silence. “Big Blue’s still in it!” Guy had meant for the line to be a rallying cry, instead it sounded like surprise.
The Batman shifted his attention to Vegeta, still sitting atop the same control panel. The monitors clearly showed that Superman was increasing in power, yet the Saiyan showed no concern. Bearing eyes that spoke all, The Batman felt himself sucked deeper into a black hole. He was The Dark Knight: using fear to set his foes off-balance! Long ago he thought he had conquered the darkness, now he found himself once again being swallowed by it. ‘Those eyes…’ The Batman shifted his attention back to the monitors, then back to Vegeta. No change.
In the back of his mind Ray Palmer wondered if he was in a sauna. Sweat had begun to merge his spine to his shirt and he wasn’t sure whether his hand was slipping off of the control panel due to the sweat or that his nerves were getting the best of him. Either way, his composure was about to snap. “Superman’s absorbed enough yellow solar energy to surpass that Saiyan’s readings!” All that liquid on his body, yet none to mend his dry throat “My God, this shouldn’t be possible!” Excitement transformed into a slowly realized horror, “…it’ll kill him.”
The Batman shot a look back at Vegeta, still sitting, still grinning. Sweat built up beneath his mask, but he did his best to ignore it and the increasingly frequent flashes back to the worst night of his life.
***
Son Gokuu scratched the back of his head. The massive crater created by his Kamehame-Ha now had islands and oceans pouring into it. Perhaps his ki control had been a little…shoddy. “Well, damn, I guess I shouldn’t have shot him through the planet like that…” Fifteen minutes had passed by but Superman had yet to return from the planet-length crater. Son Gokuu was slowly beginning to fear he had killed his foe. The Saiyan’s voice was practically frantic “Aww, damn it! If I killed him that means I won’t be able to fight him again!” Yet there was no air of graveness to his demeanor.
Stupendously, the heavens split. A chorus of warm voices preceded a brilliant shower of golden light. Son Gokuu and the crumbling world beneath him were bathed in sunlight. A golden figure descended from the now split heavens, slowly but assuredly making their way toward Son Gokuu.
A voice escaped the golden, fiery light. “I will win this fight,” the voice was familiar…but foreign.
With no ki to sense, Son Gokuu had only his instincts to guide him: “You’re alive, eh?”
“Yes,” the calm voice of the light betrayed a vicious wrath. “Perhaps I should say…I have been reborn; reborn to crush you.”
The one-liner was meant to intimidate him, instead it left the Saiyan only more excited. Grinning from ear-to-ear, Son Gokuu exploded in a fiery white aura. His ki was at its uppermost…in his normal form. His body ached from the injuries he had sustained so far but his ki, although depleted from injury and use both proper and poor, was as feral in texture and flavor as ever. The white embers of his fiery ki aura distorted the air around the Saiyan as his muscles seemed to bulge in a dance of anticipation.
Finally, he struck.
A shockwave here and a shockwave there, Planet Nele would remember its shudders that day for the rest of its life. The two combatants traded blows with such speed and vigor it was as if a thunderstorm echoed across the entire planet. Clouds dispersed, sliced in two by kicks or dusted off by colliding fists. Son Gokuu’s red dougi tore further from the strain of his increased body mass now furiously slugging it out with The Man of Steel. Finally, with a rhythm-breaking feint, Son Gokuu hammered his blue-clad foe into a mountain below them. Three hundred fifty-seven trillion pounds of stone now crushed the Kryptonian below.
A bright green frog yawned lazily as her eyes adjusted to the sudden awakening. Normally not even the regular rainfall was enough to awaken her. Today the rainfall was accompanied by thunderous booms and earth-splitting quakes. Hopping from one lily pad to the next, the frog sought breakfast foods but naught were to be found. Drat! Rain pelted the frog.
The frog stood upon a lily pad, deep in meditation as it considered its options. With not a fly to be seen and a hunger that needed curing there was but one option remaining: venturing out of her treasured wetland. It had been a long time since the amphibian had strolled out of The Wetland but the only alternative was risking starvation. Rain pelted the frog, but it was heavier this time; dirtier. Looking above, the frog was greeted by the sight of a mountain falling from the sky above.
“Oh, ribbit.”
Son Gokuu unleashed a Kamehame-Ha directly into the center of the still-collapsing mountain. The stream of towering white and blue ki quickly tore through the layers of mountain and snow, not simply like a hot knife through butter, but as if it was pure blunt force.
A man-sized tornado of golden fire drilled up through both the ground and the towering stream, slamming into Son Gokuu and wildly pushing him throughout the airspace above the mountains. Around and around, like flies circling fecal matter, The Man of Tomorrow pushed deeper and deeper into the Saiyan’s torso. Finally, Superman slammed his foe into the ground below.
With astonishing recovery, Son Gokuu broke free of the gully his body had created and slammed an elbow in Superman’s face as he groggily tried to recover from his dizzying display of spinning.
Superman took the elbowing of his left eye when he probably should not have, not with his speed now increased so many fold. He didn’t care. Replying with a head-butt, The Man of Steel tore what remained of his royal red cape off and tossed it at his reeling foe’s face to hide a nasty punch wrapped in the golden fires emitting from his body straight to the Saiyan’s nose.
Son Gokuu felt his nose cave into his face, despite the fabric softening the blow. Already heavily off-balance due to the head-butt, Gokuu slammed onto his back, the force creating a four thousand foot wide crater. It took all of the Saiyan’s will not to grab his nose but instead pick himself up and charge at his foe. Only a counter awaited him. Gokuu had not even realized he had been hit until he found himself buried seven miles into the next continent over, like a layer cake cut partway through. Ocean began to fill the new half-mile wide v-shaped gap. Clark was getting stronger by the second.
Superman picked Gokuu out of the ground. His foe was still slightly dazed but not a single bone in his body cared when he began jabbing the combatant in the face. The sweet release of unloading his pent-up desires and frustration onto the defenseless Saiyan’s face was something Clark very much relished. When he blinked he saw her, her disapproving pout. Fury and pain burned up like acid reflux through his throat as he struggled to bite through it. The pure, golden light seemed to solidify more as Clark gave into the horrible glut of pent-up misery in his heart. Soon, Superman was a pure, golden being in all respected. Arches of fires gold in color danced in-and-out of his body a dance of war and death; yes, causing suffering in others gave him a long forgotten sense of relief. After all, why accept Her when it was easier to do what hurt Him best?
It took a moment, but Son Gokuu managed to slam a fist into what he hoped were The Man of Steel’s unguarded ribs. What could hardly be called a flinch came in reply. Gokuu continued these several dozen times, all the while sustaining ever increasingly mighty blows to his face. ‘Tch, the Taiyou-ken probably won’t work on this guy, but—!’ Breaking from his assault, Gokuu brought his hands up to his face and unleashed a burst of ki directing into his foes eyes. “Sorry for usin’ yer technique, Tenshinhan!” Normally the Taiyou-ken would temporarily blind a foe. Against Superman, with his powerful eye sight now multiplied a hundred fold, it had no effect. The tattered red dougi worn by the Saiyan martial artist found itself torn further as The Man of Tomorrow sent the forty-six year old flying into space with a nasty uppercut.
Remnants of the Saiyan’s red dougi remained in Clark’s clenched left fist. The battle was turning in his favor now. All he had to do was make his foe concede...but that smile—that smile would not fade. It remained unwavering, taunting The Man of Steel like the ending of a book he could not re-write. Superman clenched his fist and as if on signal the golden fires dancing on his immaculate form incinerated the remnants of Son Gokuu’s dougi.
Son Gokuu floated in space, his body still reeling from the perfect hit to his chin. Every inch of his body was shaken to its core. “Damn, can’t even make a fist,” the Saiyan thought aloud in hushed tones. “All that power he’s got now is incredible…I can tell it is destroying his body.” Images of a dead Superman flashed through Son Gokuu’s mind. “What a waste…but he’s finally going all-out. I ought to, too!” The stars dazzled brilliantly in the unending expanse. The massive darkness of outer space was the perfect place for the now-battered Saiyan to refocus every cell within him. Son Gokuu gripped his fists.
Superman had spotted his prey, formlessly floating in space, before he had even moved a millimeter from his spot just above the Sinking Ocean. Before he could even touch his foe, however, his golden form was repelled by an aura of oozing, thick blue energy. The aura danced and crackled in space, turning and churning in a marvelous show of light as it wrapped itself around the visitor from another realm. Words almost escaped him as he struggled futilely to gather the courage to strike out. A hushed “No,” was all he could muster.
The aura took the form of a giant ape, roaring and swiping at The Man of Steel. Kent struggled to punch back but his fist was met only with stalemate. The black of space was replaced with flashing magenta and blue, alternating every other second. The nearby space debris cracked into smaller pieces. Pent-up force seemed to explode, sending Kent flying away from his prey. Finally, the roaring beast-esque aura shrunk down until it bathed Son Gokuu in a form-fitting, calm fire of blue.
Son Gokuu opened his eyes to unveil the steeled resolve in his now cyan colored pupils. Adrenaline coursed through his person despite a calmer demeanor. The Saiyan’s typically wide, black hair now stood on end with bangs a clearly defined blue. Fires burned hottest when blue. “I didn’t think you would have a ‘transformation’,” Gokuu opened. “That’s okay; I can turn it up to another level, too. This form is called Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan.”
Clark Kent, his body radiating pure energy from the yellow sun at the center of the solar system of Planet Nele, was incredulous. “You can transform to increase your power?” The more his anger grew the more he pushed his body to absorb more sunlight from the nearby sun. The wick of the cancel buckled under the strain of a fire growing heavier still. Nevertheless, the wick burned and burned. Should the candle be turned to puddle no longer mattered to the wick.
Son Gokuu slowly moved closer to Clark. “You should stop relying on the sun’s power,” he advised, “It’s killing you.” The Saiyan re-tightened his belt, as if he already knew his words were futile.
‘So calm’, the Saiyan now was—utterly devoid of the laidback demeanor that had plagued Superman’s nerves up to this point. Behind his eyelids the woman placed a well-manicured, familiarly large hand on his shoulder. Her eyes sung a song of forgiveness: not for the Saiyan but for…
A sneer cursed Superman’s face “I can’t! This is the only way I can make things right!” His hand gestures were wild. They didn’t much impress the vexing visitor.
Like a budding flower, an annoyance grew in Son Gokuu. “Fine, I’ll just end it.” The flashing of color, having lulled in the aftermath of Gokuu’s transformation, sped up, as if the universe itself was responding to the war raging within it. “Dah!” It was impossible, but somehow an echo accompanied the Saiyan competitor’s shout as he charged toward his foe.
The Man of Tomorrow met the forward charge with a blast of golden heat from his eyes. The blast seemed to cut straight through the Saiyan at first…until the image of the one named Son Gokuu faded entirely. “A mirage?!” before Superman could even finish turning to his rear he found his face met with a clean right straight. Recovering in a jiffy, Clark launched a series a jabs with both hands, always just a hair-of-a-second behind landing a clean blow. If his blows weren’t landing they were being swept aside or outright blocked. Frustration threatened to erupt, but a serene image of the dark-haired woman filled his mind. With calm returning to him, he finally began landing blows of his own.
Quiet as his excitement had grown, Son Gokuu found its intensity growing nevertheless. Blocking or brushing aside the heavy fists of his foe had begun to make his own arms leaden. Counters and short-range, quickly summoned upon ki blasts were doing only so much damage, too. For the first time in the battle the Saiyan found himself battling his foe on an even-footing. Still, an annoyance filled him. Ignoring the niggling thought at the back of his mind, Gokuu planted his right fist cleanly in Superman’s gut, sending his foe into a nearby asteroid field. Stretching his long-since stiffened toes within their stuffy boot confines, Son Gokuu quickly made sure he was not far behind.
Try as he might, The Batman was unable to prevent himself from hunching forward. The anticipation was outweighed only by the unease he felt being within such close approximation of the League’s prisoner. “What about Son Gokuu? What do the scanners say about his output?” The Dark Knight feared he already knew the answer.
Palmer threw his hands up into the air as he turned to face his colleague “Damned if I know! Ever since he transformed we haven’t been able to decipher his readings!!” The inventor’s frantic shouts sent the hundreds of Watchtower personnel into an uproar.
“What does that mean?!”
“Superman’s stronger than ever, though!”
“It’s a computer error!”
Settling his heartbeat as best he could, The Batman turned to Vegeta. ‘Those eyes…so wild, so unrelenting…it’s like he enjoys the chaos…but he’s different from The Joker. The Joker seeks to create chaos; he sees the potential for destruction. Those eyes see only…’ A theory struck The Dark Knight, one he knew only the prisoner could confirm: “You’ve heard the reports; you’ve seen the monitors…why aren’t you afraid?”
The Prince of Planet Vegeta turned to his inquisitor. Without softening his eyes he replied “Don’t get me wrong, Kakarotto is not unbeatable. He simply can’t lose to your guy.”
The Saiyan was talking. This was his chance. With movements as desperate as his face, Palmer jumped at Vegeta and shook him by his shoulders. “What the hell is going on with the other Saiyan? Why can’t we get any readings off of his energy anymore?!”
The Batman tried to pull Palmer off of the Saiyan but Ray’s fingers only dug into the orange jump suit. “Calm down Ray, you’re making a scene” the hushed whisper of his friend’s voice steadily brought him down from his high. Letting go, he returned his gaze to the Saiyan prisoner’s eyes. They nearly devoured him, but he struggled through the pain in his abdomen—as if he were a gazelle being feasted on by a lion—to ask once more: “Why?”
Vegeta closed his eyes and let loose a small chuckle, “Our ki changes when we transform into Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan. Your old sample is useless now.”
“Super Saiya-whatchasay?” Gardner interjected.
“Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan; call it ‘Super Saiyan Blue’, if it pleases you.”
“H-how much stronger is he?” Palmer whispered.
Amused, Vegeta allowed his grin to widen, “If you’re wondering if this is why your ‘Superman’ cannot win, it’s not.”
The mood returned to silence. The pressure was torturous. “T-then why?”
The Saiyan prisoner’s reply was simple. No scientific explanation, no long-winded speech. Just a simple, terrifying fact that shook even the dreaded Batman of Gotham City to its core: “A man who fights for others first-and-foremost will always lose.”
It was as just as Bruce Wayne had feared.
***
Hiding behind a sizable chunk of space rock, The Man of Steel waited with baited breath, his body hair on edge as goose bumps formed on his skin. With a thought, Clark incinerated his body hair making way for smooth skin marred only by the bumps born of his own mental weakness. The skin-tight costume he wore, normally protected by the bio-field tightly surrounding his body, was worse for wear and only served to irritate him more. Whether it was fraying, singeing, tears, cuts, or outright missing the tip of a boot, the suit of Superman was no doubt done for after this battle. The red ‘S’ laid atop a black background upon his chest, the House of El emblem, was but the only place the costume had remained unmarred. The irony of the symbol of Superman’s mourning remaining untouched had escaped the intrepid reporter.
A cyan hue crept up on the surrounding debris. Superman’s foe had arrived. This was his chance. Channeling solar energy to his eyes, Superman prepared a surefire attack.
Space had so far proven itself to be very cold to Son Gokuu, but no colder than he could handle. The stars blazed brilliantly in the distance, yet their heat never reached him. ‘Damn, he ain’t got any ki for me to sense…’ Finally, warmth graced his skin. The tornado of golden fire returned, zooming through space, striking the Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan from every angle in hit-and-run attacks. Attuned as his eyes were, weariness was catching up with the Saiyan far quicker than he would like to admit. The hit-and-hide-behind-asteroids tactic began to tear down his defenses. ‘Shit…gotta blow all these rocks away!’ Son Gokuu prepared to unleash a kiai. Unfortunately for him, the asteroids were already flying…toward him.
If he could not strike down Son Gokuu himself he would have to use the asteroids. Expanding his tornado of golden fire, Superman caught up the asteroids one-by-one, super-heating each until they radiated like stones from a volcano.
The shining cyan light took sight of the behemoth storm of volcanic asteroids before him. “Oh, shit!” The storm stormed down upon him. Their varying speed and size combined made them difficult to dodge. The giant golden fire seemed to have an infinite number of stones to toss at him. Dodge, punch, kick, ki blast, none of it mattered. In the end, the storm of makeshift volcanic space rock consumed Son Gokuu. Further and further back the storm of water-colored brush strokes pushed, lighting the skies above Planet Nele gold and red, until finally it collided with the moon.
A pool of lava formed upon the surface of Nele’s moon. Vibrant reds, yellows and oranges danced flashily against the black backdrop of space. The pool of lava deepened and widened as it ate through the surface. Superman floated in the space above the moon. He wasn’t looking. He couldn’t look. His imagination was enough. The Saiyan, deep within the lake of lava, churning in pain as his body melted and his lungs filled with magma. “My God, what have I done?” Clark Kent looked as his palms, almost convinced he saw bloodied brandings of the omega upon them. Shaking his head, Superman’s vision cleared. The brandings were gone but not the pain upon his soul. “Is this the justice I sought?”
***
“Dear God, Superman just…” Guy Gardner could not even finish his sentence. The shock had evoked uproar amongst the Watchtower personnel and League members.
“Just like Metropolis,” one technician whispered to another.
“I thought that was just because he was brainwashed,” the second replied.
The first brushed back her purple-dyed bangs, “Or something within him was awoken.”
The Dark Knight growled, raising his voice for the first time that day, “No! Superman’s no monster.”
Vegeta laughed in response, clapping his hands jovially “So he does have some backbone!”
The Batman was unsure if the technicians recoiled in response to him or the prisoner and for that he sneered. “What did you mean earlier?”
“Ho?” the Saiyan stood for the first time since the battle had begun and walked towards his prosecutor. “Keep your eyes on the monitor, you’re about to see.”
***
Air bubbles began to decorate the surface of the lake. The Man of Steel’s face was momentarily freed of its horror, now speaking only of his confoundedness. One bubble formed, then two, then a dozen little bubbles, until finally the entire lake burst into light, globs of red, yellow and orange taking wind like dandelion seeds before them. Shards of lava floated through space to form region no different than a very large lava lamp. Red, yellow and orange painted over the darkness of space. Finally, a cyan light cut through the red. Superman returned his gaze to the crater that once housed a lake of lava. Dead in the center stood not-so-dead Son Gokuu, now adoring a face more perplexing than any he had seen before. There was an unambiguous air of seriousness to him now, his clothing nearly melted away in their entirety and his face adorning not only a look of resolve but burns and blood. The Saiyan’s massive, bulging muscles seemed as all-consuming as those eyes he bore. Clark Kent has seen a lot of eyes in his time but never eyes like those, eyes devoid of murderous intent yet more fearsome. Finally, he asked: “W-why? Why do you keep doing this?”
Son Gokuu replied with a grin that did not betray his new air of seriousness. The glint in his eyes grew only stronger.
Frustration constricted on his soul, shattering it further and further and further. Superman’s lungs burned with vitriol as he screamed “Why?!” A stained-glass image of Christ looked down upon the Kryptonian woefully.
Annoyance crept upon the face of Son Gokuu and he almost managed to not let it into his voice “I guess a guy like you wouldn’t understand. It pisses me off, really; all that power and you still don’t feel it.” Gokuu spat blood to the side. The blood hastily made its way to the surface of the moon before the lack of gravity finally stopped it just short. The student of the Muten Roushi gripped his fists tightly, his aura reflecting his erupting frustration. A scream broke past his lips, filling the grand void of outer space with a noise truly deafening: “All this power and you still ain’t havin’ fun!” The moon quaked under the pressure, whether the pressure from ki or the anger of Son Gokuu it knew not, until as a final point it burst into hundreds of shards, boulders and islands.
Superman was caught up in the storm of emotion, consumed by the spiraling cyan aura that threatened to drown him. His nerves threatened to explode as the blue aura pour into his nose and mouth, tearing him apart from inside out—or was he falling deeper and deeper, drowning in an inescapable ocean? Finally, he was awoken from his brief nightmare by a single, heavy hammering from behind. The force of the strike sent him crashing through the several chunks of the moon of Nele, further tearing them apart. Mister Kent took refuge within the remains to regain his composure. The force of the emotions that had penetrated his psyche left him fatigued. The experience was a mix of contrasting flavors, joy, anger, excitement, frustration, tranquility and restlessness. Their potency reminded Clark of the day he first tasted pizza: the spice of the pepperoni, the unforeseen sweetness of the red sauce, the tantalizing, pace-killing durability of the cheese. ‘Damn the Cheese!’ Suddenly he was four again, surrounded by Ma and Pa at the kitchen table; a simpler time, a happier time, devoid of the worries of being Superman, being a public figure, being responsible, being selfless, being a man, living a life he had been given no say in.
The stars populating the cosmos before him seemed to almost spell the words out themselves. ‘Selfless’: “concerned more with the needs and wishes of others than with one’s own; unselfish.” The Man of Steel floated aimlessly in the dark expanse of space, lost deep in thought.
