To those who have been reading my previews I posted the last month of November, I am incredibly sorry for missing the date of Allegiance's premier on December 1st. But it is here now!
Look for Part 2 next Monday.
And now without further adieu, I am pleased to present to you the first part of my brand new fan fic story, Allegiance! Enjoy.
Allegiance
Since the beginning of time, all life on this planet has been locked in an eternal, everlasting battle between themselves, a battle between all those who stand for the forces of good and those who stand for all that is evil. As life on Earth evolved, so did the conflict escalate. At first the battle was waged with nothing more than primitive, resource based weapons. Stones and clubs turned into sword and spear and arrow. Bloody battles, limbs hacked off, leaving only bleeding stubs in their place. The explosiveness of gunpowder was discovered, and weapons went through a metamorphosis into firearms and cannons, but the intentions of these battles were not lost.
The battle shaped our worlds, our very existence. A calm prairie field one day was a battlefield the next. Yet no side won, ever.
Then in the modern age came the super hero, humans who were gifted with extraordinary abilities that no regular man could ever hope to equal. With them, came the super villain, dastardly men who possessed the same abilities, but used them selfishly, for their own desires. With them the battle magnified tenfold. Their battles raged more ferociously than ever before, great battles that quaked the very earth
Over the years, these heroes have united on occasion in order to better protect their world. But now, a new threat has risen. An alliance of the world’s most evil beings now poses a threat to mankind and to all beings in the universe. To destroy this threat, the heroes of this and other worlds must unite with each other, or the worlds of the universe will be forever forsaken by the cruel hands of evil…
This is the story of the greatest conflict to be ever known by any life form in the universe. A battle that took the lives of many a hero and villain alike, the battle that will shake the cosmos. This is the story of The Allegiance.
Part 1
To the eyes of any citizen of the shining city of Metropolis, a cesspool of geniuses and common people alike that rested comfortably at the half way point between Chicago and Cleveland, Clark Kent was just a normal man. True, he possessed the physique of a linebacker, with a height of 6’6” and weighing 245 pounds, but still to everyone else he was merely your everyman, in his case a slightly lazy reporter who was, despite a lacking work ethic, still had the reputation of a moderately good reporter. Kent worked as a reporter for the Daily Planet, a national newsletter whose headquarters resided in Metropolis, easily discernible among the Metropolis skyline by the gold planet figure mounted on top of the skyscraper, with a Saturn-like ring encircling it that carried the letters “Daily Planet.” Kent’s work wasn’t exactly front page-worthy material, but in no sense was Kent a bad reporter. Still, Head Editor of the Daily Planet Perry White, an aging man with a gut and a receding hairline, characterized for his harsh nature towards interns or lazy reporters and a love for large cigars, more often than not despised Kent’s work, often occasionally requesting several revisions of Kent’s articles so many times that by the time they were approved, they left only a vague representation of Kent’s original work.
In fact, only two people on the floor of cubicles that was where Clark worked were anything close to a friend to Clark, one of them being Lois Lane, Clark’s longtime fiancée, a beautiful reporter who, despite coming upon her mid-thirties, still looked young as ever, and the other being Jimmy Olsen, a fresh-out-of-college intern with whom Clark shared a quite friendly relationship.
Yes, to the eyes of any ordinary man, Clark Kent had a quite average life. Little did they know of Clark.
Clark Kent was merely a guise for a much more powerful being. A being, not of this world, but of the fabled planet Krypton, a planet filled with extraordinary beings that mirrored humans in appearance, but were unparalleled by any other species in terms of abilities. Utilizing these naturally given abilities to fight injustice in the name of truth, justice and the American way, Kent served as Metropolis’s favorite son, the Man of Steel, Superman, a hero capable of extraordinary feats, able to fly vast distances at supersonic speeds, and possessing the power of a thousand men and more, abilities that were natural for him, the last Kryptonian. Whenever Kent’s heightened senses detected any kind of danger to civilian life, whether deliberate, or accidental, Kent, after finding a safe place to reveal his costume, a blue and red costume with a red and yellow S embedded on the chest and adorning a bright red cape, would fly out into the city to wherever the danger was and using his senses, abilities and his heightened process of thinking that was twofold of any human brain, Superman would quickly and assuredly resolve the danger leaving the threatened citizens safe and sound. And indeed on many an occasion, Superman had faced and defeated a great many threats to both Metropolis and the world.
Whooshing across the bright blue sky of Metropolis on a regular Sunday afternoon, all Metropolitans looked to the sky as they saw the red and blue blur that was Superman’s patrol over the city. Two days earlier, Toyman had escaped from Blackgate Prison, and since Toyman was a regular in Metropolis, Superman had been making sure he kept an eye out for the serial murderer. Toyman was a psychotic middle aged man of short stature, only 5’1”. He had once been Winslow Schott, a less-than-popular actor who hosted a local children’s television show in the hopes that he could use it as momentum to bounce off to bigger and better gigs, but instead the show was canceled after parents of children called in to the show to complain and express fear for the safety of their children after Schott slowly began to show a perverted lust for the children that made up the majority of his studio audience, in front of which the show was taped. Outraged, Schott turned his rage on children, luring them into his grasp using his child-friendly guise as the Toyman that he had played on his show that children recognized and liked. After kidnapping them, Schott took the children to the abandoned TV station that he had worked in, where he would mutilate them for ruining his life as a television star-to-be.
As of the present, no kidnappings had yet been reported, so Superman kept his eyes wide open across the city, keeping an eye on the television station in case Toyman managed to slip underneath the Man of Steel’s nose. No. He wasn’t going to get away this time, not on his watch. Too many times had Toyman taken the life of a far too young human being before Superman found him and brought him in, then having to explain to the weeping parents what happened. Kent found himself many a time taking the blame of any loss of life in his city that was preventable, no matter even if he couldn’t have been able to do anything to stop it anyways. That was who Clark was, never willing to sacrifice or compromise when lives are at stake, always believing in being selfless, always putting the lives of others, the lives of those who could not defend themselves, before his own. That was how he worked. Always defend the people, no matter the sacrifice on his own self may be. And it was this mindset that he possessed that made not only Metropolis, but the world as well, love him.
Across the street, a doorbell rings.
A woman of 32 years answers. “Yes?” she says.
The man at the door speaks. His voice resembles that of something like a cartoon character.
“Hi ma’am. Is your husband home by chance?”
Superman shift towards the voice is so sudden, that nearby windows crack from the sonic boom of his flight toward that direction.
“No, he’s out buying-
The shot of a Ruger Redhawk revolver is fired that echoes in the door frame. The body of a woman weighing 115 pounds plops to the ground on her back. A four year old daughter screams at the sight of her mother’s limp body, her face dripping with blood and a .45 caliber bullet lodged between her eyes. Toyman, the gun at his side in his right hand, turns his attention from the housewife to the four year old girl on the second floor steps, still screaming. Toyman’s mouth turns into a vile grin, revealing moist, yellow teeth, his eyes screaming horrible intentions.
Faster, faster, no, no, no. Even though the blue blur up in the sky screams past the Metropolis skyscrapers towards the city suburbs, even though it knows it will be there in seconds, Superman worries. Superman, in his days as Metropolis’s protector, had long-since learned that every second that he isn’t there to protect the child is a second that child’s life can end. It only takes a blink of an eye for a life to end. Clark had been forced to learn that long ago.
When Superman got to the house, his mind instantly analyzed the situation. Toyman was on the third step on the second flight leading to the second floor, his right leg mounted on the fourth, the gun pointing at an angle that the bullet of the Ruger Redhawk revolver with a 6.5 inch barrel would impact in the child’s sternum, easily at a range that would punch clean through the child.
Toyman turned to the Man of Steel, a look of sudden panic on his face, extending his left hand to grab the child, Superman instead whooshes toward Toyman quick as lightning. One millisecond, the revolver’s barrel bends from the squeeze of Superman’s right fist formed around it, the next millisecond, Toyman’s jaw cracks from Superman’s left fist plowing into it, knocking Toyman unconscious so that his head hits the wall then his limp body tumbles down the steps. Superman watches the body of Toyman, adorned with grey clothing with a large faded yellow smiley across the chest of Toyman’s sweater. Then he turns back to the child, who sobs in fear, in panic.
Mounting down on one knee on the second step, the child, so young, so small, jumps into Superman’s arms crying and sobbing, crying into his shoulder. Then pushing herself away from the superhero, she looks at her mother. Her poor, sweet, loving mother. This morning she had no idea that today would be the day that she would be forced to leave her mother. Heading down the steps slowly, she rushes over to her mother. She can’t be dead. I need her. No.
“Mama…” she says, the tears pouring down her too young face. “Mama, wake up…”
The neighbors had by then had gathered to the house wondering what was going on. James Kohl, a mid-thirties man who loved to hunt on weekends had his 12-gauge out, afraid that there had been a robbery.
He came to the door.
“Superman? What happened? Oh god Carrie!”
The word instantly passed through the neighbors, gathered in the front yard, that Carrie Jones, the mother who 10 minutes ago was enjoying her Sunday lunch that now had a bullet lodged in her thoughts and feelings.
And what could Superman do but stand there? The neighbors chattered about Carrie’s death, about how they had just seen her this morning at church, not believing she was dead, crying, worrying, praying, mourning. Superman was standing there, uncertain on what to say. Then he heard Toyman groan, regaining consciousness. He turned to him, with anger in his heart. Toyman lifted his head from the ground, blood dripping down from his nose and jaw when a fist from the Man of Steel planted his head down from the ground, knocking unconscious again. Superman was filled with an emotion he was not accustomed to. He wasn’t sure what it was at. Toyman. The dead woman on the ground. The girl. The neighbors.
Then he realized it.
“You with the shotgun.” he said to the man. “What’s your name?”
“James, juh-James Kohl, sir, Superman.”
“Make sure he doesn’t move. Call the MPD.”
James didn’t have time to respond before Superman whooshed out the front door.
It was himself. He was enraged by himself.
I failed.
I failed.
Superman landed down on the balcony window leading into his 54th floor apartment room. Opening the door, stepping in, close the door. He unstrung his red cape, letting it fall to the floor. I failed. Taking off his blue top adorned with a red S on the front, dropping that to the dark red carpeted floor. I failed, that woman is dead, and I failed. Sitting down on his bed, his hands supporting his drooping head, Superman, alone, apart from the world, Clark. I failed.