Superman - Son of Krypton

Chapter Ten - Déjà Vu

Clark flew towards the plane, feeling confident if anything. He had stopped a plane from crashing before, he could do it again, right? All he needed to do was find another way to save the people than putting the plane down in Centennial Park, which was probably packed with people this time of day. He was surprisingly comfortable, despite the situation. He knew that what happened next was sure to determine his future as Superman. The people needed to see that Superman had improved as was improving still. If he messed up this in just the slightest way, the people would readily agree to deport him or whatever they were trying to do. Something that Clark had learned was that he needed the people's support to be a hero. No question about it.

The plane came into view. It was rocketing straight toward the ground, like nothing Clark had ever seen before. The first plane Clark had saved felt like forever ago. It had been on fire, and Centennial Park had been empty enough. This plane was completely different, and Clark had more pressure this time. Way more pressure.

Clark flew up to the plane and used his X-Ray vision, much like he had with the plane before. This time he realized that it was not a failure in the plane's engine, but a mistake by the pilot and co-pilot. Something had happened that caused the pilots to lose control, and now they couldn't gain back control before they hit the ground.

Just like that, Clark knew what to do. He needed to slow the plane's fall down and give the pilots some time. He flew down to the bottom of the spiraling plane and put his hands on the front of the plane, pushing it upward. But the plane just kept moving downward at the same speed. No, the plane was gaining speed.

Clark cleared his mind and placed his hands on the plane. He focused all his strength up into his arms and pressed up on the plane with all his might. The plane's speed decreased and Clark felt a wave of hope. He continued to push and started forgetting about the things bothering him. Being a hero, writing reports, being good enough, they didn't seem to matter as much as they did. Because if Superman couldn't save the people in this plane, he didn't deserve the respect he was hoping for. And neither would Clark.

"Gahh!" Clark put as much muscle as he could into the plane and it started lifting up. He was actually doing it! It was noticeably moving upward, and not a minute too soon. When Clark felt like he could spare the strength, he used X-Ray vision to peer into the plane. The pilots were trying their best to thrust the plane up and forward, but it wasn't happening. They couldn't control the plane properly because it was moving down too much too fast. Which meant that Clark was wasting his energy. He could maybe move the plane upwards, but he couldn't make it sit still and float. It was all pointless.

Unless, of course, Clark could get the plane in an upright position. But that was impossible. If Clark could barely move it in one direction, how was he going to manage setting the whole thing in a new direction? But he had to try. Everything he had built up relied on it. No, it was more than that. The people of Metropolis relied on it. 

So that was what Clark thought about as he spun himself around and kicked the plane to the side. Not heroism, or articles, or anything else. Just the innocent people that would be saved.

The plane jerked to the side exactly as Clark had wanted it to. The people in the plane were swung to the side, but no one was hurt. Clark watched with his X-Ray vision as the pilots re-gained control and took off in the air, towards their destination, or at least the nearest airport.

People cheered below Clark, some chanting the word "Superman". Clark let himself relax and let out a deep sigh. He did it.

"About time something went right," he muttered, not letting anyone below him hear.

Not three seconds after those words were out of his mouth, gunshots broke out and erupted the silence like scissors ripping through paper. Clark looked down and saw men shooting at him in the same uniform as the people that had shot at him when he saved the train. Also the same as the person who had shot the rocket after him.

Clark felt an unexpected rush of anger. After all he had done for the city, an organization still wanted him dead. They never seemed to give up. Or try anything new. And firing pointlessly at an invincible man only put innocent people at risk, the very people Clark tried so hard to save every single day.

Clark flew down toward the shooters, landing in front of them angrily. The men dropped their guns and what seemed to be fright. Clark almost laughed. But then another man walked forward with what looked to be a very strange pistol. Clark stared him down and he started right back.

"Superman," the man said in a deep voice.

"That's right," Clark replied in the most professional voice he could muster.

"You are endangering this city," said the man, "not to mention this whole Earth. Therefore, I am taking you in."

Clark almost laughed again. "Taking me in? Good luck."

The man just nodded. "Thank you."

The man stepped forward and pressed the trigger on the odd looking pistol. Something green shot forth from the pistol and struck Clark in the chest. Clark staggered backwards, confused. He was feeling something he had never felt before. Two things, actually. Weakness, and pain. Someone covered Clark's head with something. There was nothing he could do. He was blind, helpless. Losing consciousness. He was being dragged. Then it stopped. Everything stopped. The world was still, and Clark was being swept away.