Look Up Part 1 (36->50k) (Patreon)

Weeks passed after Clark left the meeting room where he had spoken with Silver Sentinel, and each one blended into the next as he was pulled him deeper into the structure of the Young Americans. He returned home to Smallville that Sunday night, and by Monday morning he balanced school classes with calls from his new managers who outlined schedules that filled his calendar with entries he had not anticipated. The first week brought a series of brand deals where he sat in offices with executives who presented contracts for endorsements, and he signed agreements that tied his image to products like energy drinks and athletic wear which the company claimed aligned with his values. He attended virtual meetings during lunch breaks at school, and listened as they explained how his participation would reach audiences who needed inspiration from someone like him.

The second week included premieres for films and shows that Vought produced, and Clark flew to events in cities like Chicago and Kansas City where he walked red carpets alongside other supes from the team. He posed for photos with Starlight, Holy Mary, whom he now called Annie and Maria in private, and shook hands with celebrities who complimented his suit which his mother had made. Reporters asked questions about his origins, he answered with the scripted responses that his media training sessions had prepared him for, although he felt a disconnect when the conversations shifted to topics that focused on entertainment rather than the work he wanted to do. His debut happened during that week at a press conference in Des Moines, and he stood on a stage with the team as Silver Sentinel introduced him to the world, but the event centered on announcements about upcoming appearances rather than any immediate actions.

Patrols started in the third week, yet they did not match what Clark had envisioned when he joined the team. He went out with Annie, Maria and Alex on routes that they had mapped in advance, and camera crews followed them in vans which recorded every moment from multiple angles. They stopped incidents like a shoplifting or a minor disturbance in a park, but the presence of the crews made the situations feel arranged, and Clark noticed how the criminals seemed less threatening than those he had encountered on his own, his super hearing could pick out how little fear they showed too. The patrols ended with interviews where they spoke to the cameras about the importance of community safety. Clark returned from these outings with a sense that the efforts served the company's image more than the people who lived in the areas they covered.

Magazines featured him by the fourth week, and articles appeared in publications that Vought distributed widely. He saw his face on covers with headlines that hailed him as the next Homelander, and writers drew comparisons between their power sets which emphasized similarities in strength and flight. Reporters contacted him for quotes, and he provided responses that highlighted his commitment to being a hero, but the stories often twisted his words to focus on potential rivalries or future team dynamics that he had not considered. Fans sent messages through social media accounts that Vought managed for him, and he read comments from people who expressed excitement about his role, yet the publicity overwhelmed him when he tried to reply personally. 

He grew closer to Annie and Maria over those weeks, they shared lunches in the headquarters cafeteria where they talked about their experiences when they were younger. Annie opened up about her dislike for the pageants she does, and Clark listened as she described the pressures she faced from her mother who monitored her every move. Maria shared stories from her own background, and they laughed over mishaps from early training sessions that had gone awry. Clark appreciated how Annie encouraged him during moments of doubt, and Maria's personality lightened the mood when meetings dragged on, but he noticed the way Maria sometimes directed her attention toward him in ways that made Annie's expressions tighten subtly.

Drummer Boy, whom Clark knew as Alex, presented a challenge during those weeks, Clark sensed the tension that arose from the publicity he received. Alex avoided joint activities when possible, and during team meetings he made comments that highlighted his own contributions and downplayed Clark's, which Clark tried to acknowledge positively. Clark attempted to bridge the gap by inviting Alex to informal hangouts or offering compliments on his work m, but Alex responded with short answers and often declined, Annie suggested he felt overshadowed and to let him deal with it, that he'd get over it eventually. Clark felt sadness about the situation, and he hoped that he could fix things with Alex soon.

Silver Sentinel remained distant throughout the weeks, Clark saw him only during mandatory team gatherings where the hero led discussions on strategy or reviewed footage from patrols. Clark approached him after one session to ask questions about past missions, but Silver Sentinel explained that urgent matters required his attention elsewhere, and he promised they would talk soon. Clark respected the hero's commitments, yet he wondered about the specifics that kept Silver Sentinel occupied. He also found it strange that even after weeks of being near him he still went pale and felt a little nauseous in the man's presence.

School continued alongside everything else, and Clark had to attended classes alongside all of his hero work. He balanced homework with calls from managers who scheduled more appearances, the dual life exhausted him in ways that even his powers had trouble countering. He flew home each evening with thoughts of the day swirling in his mind, but it didn't end there as he helped his parents on the farm when time allowed, but the constant pull between worlds left him drained. Weeks turned into a routine where brand deals led to premieres, patrols, and publicity, and Clark found himself wondering how things had gotten this way.

The fifth week brought an increase in magazine features, and Clark appeared on covers that positioned him next to images of Homelander with captions that speculated on his potential to apprentice to the veteran hero. Writers interviewed him about his inspirations, and he spoke of his family and the values they instilled in him, but the articles mever mention those and usually just talked about his powers and how he could lift a 18 wheeler truck over his head. Fans gathered outside events where he signed autographs, and interacted with them, yet the crowds grew larger each time which made personal connections hard to form.

As always he spent more time with Annie and Maria during downtime, and they explored the city together when schedules aligned. Annie shared tips on handling media scrutiny, and Clark appreciated how she listened when he expressed frustrations about the structured patrols. Maria organized games in the recreation lounge, and they played cards or video games which provided brief escapes from the demands. Clark noticed how Maria's flirtations continued in subtle ways, he didn't want to upset her or be rude so he played along with them, although he sensed Annie's discomfort during those moments.

Months continued to pass as he fell into this routine yet very rarely did Clark ever feel fulfilled. He felt like what he had set out to do and what he was doing were two different things and he didn't know what to do about that. There was so much he didn't know and it seemed like no one had the answers.

...

Clark sat on the top rail of the old wooden fence that bordered the back field of the Kent farm, his legs dangling loosely as the sun dipped on the horizon. Krypto lay beside him on the ground, his white fur ruffled by the occasional breeze, head resting in Clark's lap while Clark stroked the dog's ears. It was quiet out here, its where Clark usually came when he had stuff on his mind, or when he just wanted to relax, and in all honestly he needed a little bit of both right now. 

Six months had passed since he had joined the Young Americans, and the whirlwind that followed had left him drained in ways he had never expected. The constant travel between Smallville and Des Moines, the endless cycle of appearances and scripted patrols, the pressure of cameras and contracts it all blurred together now. He loved helping people; that part still lit something inside him. But the rest felt hollow, manufactured, like he was performing a role someone else had written rather than living the dream he had carried since childhood. He stared out at the fields, wondering if what he was doing was even right anymore, if he was truly making the difference he had set out to make.

Footsteps crunched on the grass behind him, Clark didn't need to turn to know who approached. Jonathan Kent walked up to the fence, his boots leaving faint prints, his hands tucked into the pockets of his worn jacket. He stopped a few feet away, gazing out at the same view before glancing at his son.

"Hey, Clark," Jonathan said. "You get those fence posts reinforced out by the north pasture like I asked? Wind's been picking up, and I don't want the cattle wandering come spring."

Clark nodded without looking over right away, his hand still moving through Krypto's fur. "Yeah, Pa. I did it this morning before school. Tightened the wire too, and replaced the broken one by the gate."

Jonathan leaned against the fence post nearest him, studying Clark's profile in the fading light. He could tell something was off, the way Clark's shoulders slumped just a little, the distant look in his eyes that went beyond the horizon. Jonathan had raised this boy from the night that ship crashed in their field, and he knew the signs when something weighed heavy on him. He pushed off the post and walked closer, resting his forearms on the rail beside Clark. "You alright, son?" Jonathan asked quietly. "You've been awfully quiet since you got home. More than usual."

Clark finally turned his head, meeting his father's gaze. The words caught in his throat for a moment, and he looked down at Krypto again, scratching behind the dog's ears. "I'm... I'm happy, Pa. Really. Being a hero... it's something I never imagined I'd actually get to do. Growing up, watching Silver Sentinel and The Seven, tying that towel around my neck and running around the yard pretending to fly... I dreamed about it. And now it's real. I'm out there with a team, helping people. Kids look up to me the way I looked up to him."

He paused, swallowing hard as his eyes glistened in the twilight. "But in truth... it's not what I expected it to be. All the meetings, the cameras everywhere, the way everything has to be planned and approved... I go on patrols, and there are crews filming every move. We stop things, sure, but it feels staged sometimes, like it's more about the show than the people we're saving. I sign contracts for products, pose for pictures, answer the same questions over and over. And when I do help someone, it's clipped and edited and turned into something else. I don't feel like a hero most days, Pa. I feel like... like an actor playing one. And I'm tired. Burned out, I guess. Wondering if this is even the right way anymore."

Jonathan listened without interrupting and when  Clark finished, Jonathan reached over and placed a calloused hand on his son's shoulder, giving it a firm but gentle squeeze. "Clark," Jonathan began. "Listen to me.... You are a hero. Not because of the suit, or the team, or what the cameras catch. You're a hero because of what's in here." He tapped Clark's chest lightly. "That heart of yours... it's always been bigger than any power you have. And you may not feel like a hero right now because of all the noise around it, all that stuff they pile on top. But you need to remember something important."

He shifted closer. "Even saving one person makes you a hero. Just one. Think about the people in Kansas City, or those women in the alley with your teammates. You changed their lives forever. That one person you pull from a burning car, or stop from getting hurt—they go home to their families because of you. They get to see another sunrise, hold their kids, live the life they were meant to. How can that not be right, son?. That's everything. The cameras and the contracts and the ratings they're not what matters. They're just the suits who don't understand how important one life is. But you focus on helping people where you can, one at a time if that's what it takes. That's what makes the difference. That's what makes you the man I know you are."

Clark looked at his father, the emotion welling up as Jonathan's words sank in. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, not from sadness now, but from the profound relief of being seen as a hero. Krypto whined softly, sensing the shift, and nudged Clark's hand for more attention.

A small smile broke through on Clark's face. "Thanks, Pa. I... I needed to hear that."

Jonathan squeezed his shoulder again before letting his hand drop, a soft smile creasing his own face. "Anytime, son. You've got a good head and an even better heart. Just keep listening to them, and you'll find your way through all this. Now come on inside when you're ready your Ma's got supper warming, and Krypto here's probably hoping for scraps."

Clark nodded, wiping at his eyes quickly as Jonathan turned and headed back toward the house. Clark stayed on the fence a little longer, stroking Krypto's fur as the first stars appeared overhead. Even if it was hard or if he had doubts Clark knew now that he would keep going on this path. He would be a hero. 

Even if it was for only one person. 

_____________________________________

Clark flew toward the Young Americans headquarters in Des Moines on a clear morning the wind rushing past him as he descended from the clouds. He adjusted himswld mid-flight, and aimed for the front landing pad where staff usually directed arrivals. As he approached the building, he noticed a crowd gathered outside the main entrance. Fans held signs with his name printed in bold letters, they waved enthusiastically when they spotted him coming in for a landing.

He changed course and touched down gently on the pavement in front of the doors, his boots making a soft thud that echoed slightly. The crowd erupted immediately voices calling out "Superman!" in excited unison as they pressed forward against the barriers that security had set up. Phones rose into the air, capturing photos and videos, while others held out posters or merchandise for signatures. Clark smiled widely at them, waving as he stepped closer to the edge of the barrier.

"Hey, everyone," he said warmly, taking a marker from the first fan who extended an item toward him. He signed a poster, adding a quick note before handing it back, and then moved along the line to the next person who asked for a photo. He posed with groups, putting arms around shoulders when they requested it, and he chatted briefly with a few who shared stories about how his appearances had inspired them. Children in the front row reached out for high-fives, which he gave gladly, and he knelt down to sign a young girl's cape that mimicked his own design. The process continued for several minutes, with Clark making sure to acknowledge as many as he could.

After a while, the doors to the headquarters opened, and Elena emerged, her clipboard in hand and her expression showing mild impatience as she approached him. She waited until he finished with one more autograph before placing a hand on his arm and guiding him away from the crowd. "Superman, we have a schedule to keep," she said in a quiet voice that no one else but he could hear. "You can't spend this much time out here every arrival. The optimal number of autographs is four signatures, it keeps the value high and maintains rarity. Fans appreciate exclusivity more than quantity."

Clark turned to her with an easygoing smile, waving one last time to the crowd before following her toward the entrance. "I hear you, Elena, but they came all this way just to see us. A few extra moments out of my day isn't a big deal. It makes their trip worthwhile at least."

Elena's mouth tightened into a thin, disapproving line as they stepped through the lobby. The moment the glass doors swung shut behind them, cutting off the distant cheers of the fans, she turned to him with a look that could have frozen fire. "You know, Superman," she said angrily, "one of these days your fucking holier-than-thou bullshit is going to cost you more than just a paycheck. The rest of us have to clean up your messes while you play saint in front of the cameras."

Clark exhaled quietly, keeping his expression blank. He was used to this by now. Most of the management team—Elena especially—despised him. Not just disliked. Despised. He'd heard the things they said when they thought he wasn't listening, or forgot he had super hearing: self-righteous prick, ungrateful little shit, thinks he's too good for the money that pays his goddamn rent. They smiled to his face during meetings, then tore him apart the second he left the room. The alcohol endorsement had been the breaking point. They'd spent months negotiating it, it would bring in seven figures, prime placement, a campaign built around his clean-cut image. All he'd had to do was smile, hold the bottle, and say it tasted great. Instead, he'd looked the brand execs in the eye and told them no. Calmly. Politely. Refused to put his name on something he believed was harmful to children or any of his fans.

They'd called him naive. Then arrogant. Then, behind closed doors, much worse.

Elena hadn't forgiven him. None of them had. She'd spent weeks afterward ranting to anyone who would listen about how he'd flushed millions down the toilet because of his delicate fucking conscience. One senior exec had reportedly laughed during a conference call and said, "The guy thinks he's Jesus Christ with worse abs. Wait till the offers dry up, see how long that moral spine holds."

Clark didn't respond to her now. He rarely did. Not because he lacked the words, but because he refused to sink to their level. He wouldn't curse them out, wouldn't threaten or sneer. He just kept walking toward.

Elena continued walking beside him through the polished hallways, flipping through pages on her clipboard. "On a positive note, the funds from the airline advertisement you filmed last month have cleared. The full amount should appear in your account within the next few days."

Clark nodded, thanking her with a slightly uneasy tone. "Appreciate the update, Elena."

Abother aspect of his role that continued to unsettle him involved the enormous sums of money that flowed into his accounts. In the six months since joining the team, he had become a multimillionaire through brand deals, appearance fees, and licensing agreements that Vought negotiated on his behalf. He had attempted to redirect most of it to his parents, offering to fund renovations on the farm or even early retirement, but both Jonathan and Martha had refused, insisting that the money belonged to him and that they managed fine with what they had. Clark understood their perspective, as he did not particularly want the money either, yet he could not decline the contracts without risking his position, and the deals arrived faster than he could process them. He donated substantial portions to charities focused on education and disaster relief, but even those generous contributions barely reduced the balance, which seemed to accumulate more rapidly than it decreased.

When he had discussed the situation with Annie, Maria, and Alex, their reactions had shown surprise. Annie and Maria approached millionaire status through their association with the Young Americans, supplemented by smaller endorsements, while Alex benefited similarly from his visibility. They explained that most heroes earned modest salaries unless they reached high fame levels, where brand opportunities exploded. Clark's rapid rise stemmed not only from his team membership but also from his power set, which matched Homelander's exactly—a fact that generated intense public interest and comparisons. He had yet to meet Homelander in person, despite expressing eagerness during meetings, the delay disappointed him. Sharing the same abilities suggested a possible common origin, which raised hopes that he might not be entirely alone.

Elena stopped at an intersection in the hallway, consulting her notes once more. "Your patrol with Starlight is scheduled for later this afternoon, it'll be a jewelry shop robbery in the downtown district. Cameras will be on site for full coverage, so stick to the planned route."

Clark nodded along as they resumed walking, his attention divided while he processed the information. Elena finished her briefing with reminders about upcoming interviews and then turned down a side corridor, leaving him to continue alone. He made his way to the recreation room. When he pushed open the door, he found Annie sitting on one of the couches, a book open in her lap as she read. She looked up at his entrance, closing the book with a smile that brightened the room for him He walked over to her and sat down beside her on the cushion that dipped slightly under his weight. "Hey, Annie," he said with a smile that reached his eyes as he leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. "How are you holding up today?"

Annie closed her book and set it on the table in front of them, turning to face him with a sigh that escaped her lips. "I'm tired, Clark. The schedule's been nonstop, and my mom's been calling every hour to check on things."

He nodded sympathetically, he was pretty familiar with how bad her schedule was, she had confided in him a lot these past months, especially regarding the extra curricular activities her mom forces her to do. "That sounds rough are you okay?"

She tilted her head and studied his face for a moment before she spoke. "Don't worry I'll be fine, what about you how are things?" She asked. 

"I'm fine," he replied, though his eyes avoided hers for a second and his smile faded just enough that she noticed the strain.

"Elena and the others giving you a tough time?" Annie asked as she reached out and touched his arm lightly.

Clark nodded while he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Yeah, a bit. Even now I can hear her calling me every curse under the sun from her office down the hall," he said with a chuckle. 

Annie frowned and pulled her hand back to her lap. "We should complain about it to Silver Sentinel. It's not right for them to talk to you that way."

He shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile that softened his features. "Nah, let's not. This is her job, and she's dedicated to it in her own way. I don't want to ruin her life over something so small when I can handle it."

Annie smiled back at him and shook her head slightly. "You're too kind for your own good, Clark. One of these days it's going to get you in trouble."

Clark laughed and waved off her comment with one hand while he leaned forward on the couch. "Ahhh, it's nothing. Anyway, how are things going for you otherwise? Anything new?" He said trying to change the subject. 

She shifted on the cushion and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before she answered. "I've got an important pageant coming up next week. Mom's already planning the routine and the outfit, both are awful as usual."

Clark frowned as he recalled the conversations they had shared late at night in the recreation room, where she had opened up about the pressures she faced. She had told him how she had to starve herself for days to fit into the dresses that hugged her figure tightly, and how she layered on makeup until she barely recognized herself in the mirror. "Annie," he said softly while he placed a hand on her arm, "you don't have to do it if you don't want to. It's your choice."

Annie looked down at his hand on her arm for a moment and then met his eyes with a sad smile. "I don't want to, Clark, but I'm not brave enough to go against my mom. She does so much work on all these things, to the point where she does nothing else. It's easier to just go along with it."

He squeezed her arm gently before he pulled back and nodded in understanding. "I get it. If that's how you feel, then okay. Just know I'm here if you ever need to talk about it or even if you need me to say something."

She nodded and smiled at him. "Thanks. So, about our patrol later the jewelry shop robbery. You excited?" She said in an attempt to change the subject. 

Clark leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms over his chest while he considered her question. "Not really. Ever since I figured out how scripted they are, it doesn't feel good at all."

Annie tilted her head and gave him a knowing look. "Are you going to go out after... for you know...?"

He nodded and uncrossed his arms to rest his hands on his knees. "Yeah, at least for a few hours." For a while now Clock had been going out and patrolling on his own making sure he was too fast to be seen or that he mostly stayed in the dark when he saved people, this way he could help people without bringing publicity to young Americans.

Annie watched him for a moment and wished she could join him on those secret outings where he fought crime without the constraints of the team. She felt bad about not going, but the influence her mother had over her decisions held her back, and the fear of disappointing her kept her from breaking free. "That sounds nice," she said quietly.

Clark noticed the hesitation in her voice and reached out to pat her shoulder lightly. "It's fine if you can't come. I understand. No pressure."

She smiled at him and nodded in appreciation. "Thanks."

He grinned and changed the subject with a cheerful lift in his voice. "Hey, want to play some more video games? I can't hear Donna in the building right now, so we should be safe from any interruptions."

Annie smiled wider and set her book aside completely. "Yeah, that sounds fun."

They moved over to the console on the table in the corner of the room, and Clark picked up two controllers which he handed one to her. He turned on the system and selected a racing game that they had played before, and they settled back on the couch side by side. The game loaded, and they started the first race, their cars speeding along the virtual track while they leaned into the turns together.

"You're getting better at this," Clark said with a laugh as Annie pulled ahead on a straightaway.

She glanced at him and grinned while she focused on the screen. "Only because you've been teaching me the shortcuts. Watch this... I'm taking the inside lane."

Their cars bumped on the track, and Clark nudged her shoulder lightly with his own. "Hey, no fair!"

Annie laughed and nudged him back. "All's fair in racing. Come on, catch up if you can."

They played through several rounds, trading wins and teasing each other about mistakes, they brushed their shoulders together occasionally. Clark shared a story from school about a friend who had challenged him to a game during lunch, and Annie told him about a funny moment from her last appearance where a fan had mixed up her name with another hero's. The room filled with their laughter, and they lost track of time until the door opened and Alex and Maria walked in.

Maria's face lit up when she saw Clark, and she hurried over to the couch where she squeezed in next to him. "Superman's here! Finally, some fun. What are we playing? Scoot over Annie let me grab a controller."

Clark smiled at her and handed over an extra one from the table. "Hey, Maria. We're on racing. Want to join the next round?"

Alex stood near the door, his arms crossed as he watched them with a look that showed his jealousy. Clark turned to him and held out another controller. "Alex, you in? We could make it a four-player if we switch games."

Alex shook his head and uncrossed his arms to point toward the hallway. "Nah, I'm heading to the gym. You guys have fun."

Clark watched him leave and thought they really should talk at some point to clear the air, he didn't like how angry Alex was these days, he hated how he was the cause of it. For the moment however he cast that to the back of his mind and they played a few more rounds with Maria joining in, she leaned against Clark's side while she competed fiercely against Annie. The games continued until Maria paused the screen and rubbed her stomach. "I'm starving. Let's go get some food."

Clark nodded and set his controller down. "Sounds good to me."

Annie agreed as she stood up from the couch. "Yeah, let's head to the cafeteria."

They left the recreation room and walked down the hallway together, with Maria linking her arm through Clark's. "Come on Superman fly us to that burger joint downtown instead. It'll be quicker, and we can skip the cafeteria slop."

Clark looked at her with an amused expression and shook his head. "That would be fun, but no. I've already given them a hard enough time with my usual antics today. Cafeteria's fine." Maria pouted and complained about that but eventually relented and they continued toward the cafeteria, but Clark stopped for a moment and frowned suddenly as he heard a commotion in the lobby ahead. He quickened his pace and headed there with the others following behind him.

He entered the lobby and saw a woman standing at the reception desk, her hands gesturing wildly as she spoke. She had long blonde hair that fell in waves down her back and had pink highlights, and she wore a short skirt with fishnet stockings and a top that revealed her midriff. Her makeup was heavy, with dark eyeliner and red lipstick that stood out under the fluorescent lights.

The woman raised her voice at the receptionist who sat behind the counter. "My sister's missing! I've gone to the police three times, and they haven't done a thing. Please, you have to help she's been gone for days!"

The receptionist shook her head and repeated a response from a script on her screen. "I'm sorry Ma'am but the Young Americans do not take private requests. You'll need to contact your nearest law enforcement agency for assistance."

The woman slammed her hand on the counter and leaned forward. "I've done that! They don't care about people like us. You're heroes! You're supposed to help!"

Security guards approached from the side doors, and one grabbed her arm while the other moved to escort her out. "Ma'am, you need to leave now."

She struggled against their hold and twisted her body to pull free. "Let go of me!"

One of the guards let go of her arm, but he pulled a baton from his belt at the same time, and he raised it high so that he could strike her while she continued to struggle against them. Clark moved forward in a blur that no one could track with their eyes, and he grabbed the baton right in the middle of its swing, which stopped it completely. Then he snapped the baton in half with his hand, the sharp snap from the break echoed across the entire lobby area.

He kept the two broken pieces in his hand for a moment, and he looked down at them. "What is going on here?" Clark asked, a clear frown appeared on his face, which was something that most people who knew him had almost never seen before.

The guards turned toward him quickly, shock covered their faces, this behavior was not how Clark normally acted whenever he dealt with the staff members. "Superman? Um... she was... well... she was causing a scene in here, so we were just in the process of removing her from the building," one of them said.

Clark opened his hand and let the broken pieces of the baton fall to the floor, where they landed with a clatter. Then he stared directly at the guards. "Let go of her right now," he said.

The guards released her arms immediately, and they stepped back a few paces while one of them started to explain the situation again. "She came in and began yelling at the front desk, and she refused to leave when we asked her to, so we had to take action," the guard said.

"That is no excuse for you to hurt her," Clark replied, as he kept his eyes locked on theirs, which made them shift their weight from one foot to the other and look uncomfortable. "She came into this building because she needed help, and your response was to use violence against her?"

After that, he turned his attention to the woman who stood there rubbing her arms. "Are you okay?" he asked her gently.

She nodded her head a little, but she did it in a tentative way, and then she backed away from everyone slowly until she reached the doors, where she turned and ran out of the building as fast as she could.

"Wait, I—" Clark tried to say

But at that moment, Victor and Elena came into the lobby from a side hallway that connected to the offices, anger showed clearly on both of their faces as they walked up to the group. "What is happening here Superman? This kind of behavior is completely unacceptable—" Victor started to say.

Clark raised one hand toward them, and he gave them a look that made them stop speaking right away. "Treating people in that manner is not acceptable at all," Clark said. "She walked in here because she needed help from us, and the response from the staff was to grab her and handle her roughly, no I won't let that happen. It's not right, we are heroes and we are here to help people."

Victor opened his mouth as if he wanted to respond to that, but Clark kept talking without giving him the chance. "I can hear every single thing that happens inside this building," Clark continued. "That includes every conversation that takes place and every whisper that anyone says. If I ever hear anything similar to this incident again, I will personally drag the people who are responsible straight down to the nearest police station."

"Am I understood?" Clark said loudly. 

The group stood there in complete silence for several seconds, and then Victor nodded his head once. "Understood," he said quietly.

Clark raised his voice just a bit so that more people could hear him clearly. "Understood?" he repeated.

Everyone who was in the lobby at that time, which included the staff members behind the desks and the visitors who had gathered around to watch, answered together. "Yes," they all said in unison.

After that, Clark turned toward Elena specifically. "Cancel the rest of the patrol schedule for today," he told her. "I need to get some fresh air right now."

He walked straight out through the main doors without waiting for a reply, and once he was outside, he launched himself into the sky. He flew up to the rooftop of the same building, where he landed softly and sat down on the edge, with his legs hanging over the side. He breathed in and out heavily while he stared down at the city streets far below, many thoughts raced through his mind as he questioned the actions he had just taken and the role that he played in everything.

A few minutes passed before Annie appeared on the rooftop, she knew that this spot was where Clark always went whenever he needed to think about things that overwhelmed him. She walked over to where he sat and lowered herself down next to him on the ledge.

"Are you okay?" she asked him after she settled in.

Clark let out a long sigh, and did not answer her right away. But after he thought about it for a moment, he spoke. "Did I go too far back there?" he asked.

Annie thought about his question for a second, and then she answered honestly. "You were a little scary, I have to admit that," she said. "But I also get why you reacted the way you did."

Clark nodded his head slowly while he listened to her. "I have just been so frustrated with how everything has been going around here lately," he explained. "I have been pushing all of that frustration down inside me for weeks now, and I thought I had it under control. But when I walked in and saw them treating her like that, I lost it for a moment."

Annie reached over and placed her hand on his back, and she rubbed it gently in small circles. "You did the right thing by stepping in," she told him. "Those guards needed someone to call them out on what they were doing, and you made sure that the woman did not get hurt any more than she already was."

Clark shook his head from side to side as he thought about it more. "I never wanted to use my powers in a way that scares people," he said. "I really did not like the way everyone looked at me down there, like they thought I could crush them without any effort if they did not do exactly what I said." He let out another sigh, and then he stood up from the ledge so that he could stretch his legs.

Annie looked up at him from where she still sat. "Where are you going now?" she asked.

Clark glanced down at her for a second before he answered. "That woman came to this building because she needed help from someone," he said. "And I am not going to let her down."

With those words, he bent his knees slightly and launched himself off the rooftop, soaring straight into the air as he headed out over the city to find her.

...

Rose pushed open the side door of the Neon Palace strip club, as soon as she got inside the club it hit her with the familiar mix of cheap perfume, sweat, and stale beer. She tugged her jacket tighter around the skimpy outfit she still wore from her and headed straight for the back stairs that led up to the apartments above. The other girls noticed her right away as she passed the dressing room.

"Rose, honey, you okay?" Jasmine called out, pausing mid-touch-up of her lipstick in the mirror. She sat on a stool with curlers in her hair, concern written all over her face.

"Yeah, just tired," Rose muttered, forcing a half-smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Tasha leaned out from her locker, towel wrapped around her after a quick shower. "You went to that hero place, didn't you? Still nothing?"

Rose shook her head. "Same bullshit. Told me to go to the cops. Like I haven't already."

The girls exchanged looks. Mia, who was lacing up her heels for the next set, stood and came over, pulling Rose into a quick hug. "We're here if you need anything, alright? Don't go disappearing on us too."

Rose nodded against her shoulder, pulling away before the tears started. "Thanks. I just need to crash for a bit."

She climbed the creaky stairs to the second floor, the hallway was decrepit and dark with one flickering bulb that hadn't been replaced in months. Her apartment sat at the end, door number 7, paint chipped and lock finicky as always. She jiggled the key until it caught, pushed inside, and flipped the deadbolt behind her. The place was small, one room with a kitchenette, bathroom off to the side, bed shoved against the wall under the window that overlooked the club's neon sign. Clothes hung on a rack since there was no closet, and takeout containers stacked on the counter from nights she couldn't be bothered to cook.

She dropped her bag on the floor, kicked off her heels, and sank onto the edge of the bed. The room felt emptier than usual without Lily's stuff scattered around. Rose pulled her phone from her jacket pocket, thumb hovering over her sister's contact for the hundredth time that week. She hit call anyway, holding it to her ear as it rang and rang before clicking to voicemail.

"Hey, it's Lily. Leave a message or text me, I'll get back when I can."

Beep.

Rose's voice cracked as she spoke. "Lily, it's me again. Please call me back. I'm worried sick. Where are you?"

She ended the call, phone dropping to the mattress as tears finally spilled over. She pressed her palms to her eyes, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Lily had been gone a full week now, no texts, no calls, nothing. Rose had filed reports with the police three times, sat in waiting rooms for hours while officers gave her sympathetic nods and empty promises about looking into it. They took notes, said they'd follow up, but days passed with radio silence. She knew they weren't doing shit; missing persons cases like Lily's never got priority.

Wiping her face with the back of her hand, Rose stood and crossed to the small dresser by the window. She opened the bottom drawer, pushing aside old clothes until her fingers closed around the small plastic case she hadn't touched in months. Inside lay the kit—needle, spoon, lighter, the last bit of heroin she'd stashed when things got bad last year. She'd been clean since then, proud of it even, but right now the ache in her chest felt unbearable. Lily was all she had left, the one person who loved her, who dragged her to meetings and celebrated every sober day. Without her sister, what was the point?

Rose sat back on the bed, prepping the hit with shaking hands. She tied off her arm with a rubber band from the drawer, found a vein that still worked, and drew up the liquid. Tears blurred her vision as she positioned the needle. She loved Lily more than anything... her little sister who deserved better than this life, who had been trying to get out, go to school, make something of herself. Rose couldn't imagine a world without her in it.

The needle pressed against her skin, and she started to push.

But it vanished from her fingers.

Rose blinked, confused, staring at her empty hand. The syringe was just... gone.

"You shouldn't use this stuff," a voice said from behind her.

She whipped around, her heart slamming in her chest. Superman stood there in the middle of her tiny apartment, the needle held carefully between his fingers.

Rose scrambled back on the bed, pressing against the headboard. "How the fuck did you get in here?"

He held up his free hand, palm out. "Window was cracked. I didn't mean to scare you. I saw what almost happened and... I didn't want you to make a mistake like that."

She stared at him, brain trying to catch up. Superman. In her shitty apartment. Holding her needle. The same guy who'd stopped security from beating her ass at headquarters earlier.

"You... you followed me?"

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, glancing down at the crushed needle in his other hand before meeting her eyes again. "Yeah, I followed you... When you ran out earlier, I saw you were gonna bolt, so I... I took your driver's license out of your purse real quick and read the address. Sorry if that comes off creepy. I didn't mean it that way."

Rose stared at him for a second, her heart still pounding from the shock, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Why? Why would you even bother? What's the catch?"

Superman shook his head slowly, stepping back a little to give her space. "No catch. I heard what you said back at headquarters, your sister's missing, right? That's why I'm here. I want to help find her."

She narrowed her eyes, leaning forward as she studied his face, looking for any sign of bullshit. "This some kind of trick? Or what, you get a kick out of slumming it with people like me? What do you get out of it?"

"Honestly nothing," Superman replied as he held her gaze. "Though I might get in a lot of trouble if they find out I'm doing this on my own, but that won't stop me from helping. It's what I do."

Rose sat there for a moment, processing his words while her mind raced through all the reasons this could go wrong, but something in his expression made her pause. He didn't look like he was lying, and he had stopped those guards earlier. She nodded slowly. "Okay. But if you're full of shit, I'll scream bloody murder."

Superman gave a small nod, gesturing toward the bed. "Fair enough. Mind if I sit down?"

She eyed the spot next to her, then shrugged. "Yeah, go ahead."

He waited until she scooted over a bit, then sat down carefully on the edge, the mattress dipping under his weight. "Thanks."

Rose glanced around the room, suddenly aware of the takeout boxes and scattered clothes, and she rubbed her arms self-consciously. "Sorry about the mess, I wasn't expecting company and it's kinda weird having a celebrity in my shitty apartment."

Superman shook his head and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Your apartment isn't too bad, especially for the city. Rent's crazy everywhere these days, I've seen worse spots."

She snorted, leaning back against the headboard. "Yeah, right. You probably live in some mansion with pools and shit."

He laughed warmly as he turned to look at her. "If I tell you a secret, can you keep it?"

Rose tilted her head, curiosity winning out over suspicion. "Yeah... sure."

"I actually live in a farmhouse," he said, leaning in a little closer. "Pretty old one that belonged to my great-great-grandfather. No pools, no servants, just creaky floors and a drafty corridor during winter."

She blinked, then burst out laughing, covering her mouth. "No way. You're shitting me."

"I'm serious," he replied, grinning as he held up his hands. "Cross my heart. It's out in the country, middle of nowhere. Cows, fields, the whole deal."

Rose wiped at her eyes, the laughter easing some of the tension in her chest. "That's... that's actually kinda funny. Superman milking cows or something."

He chuckled along with her. "Pretty much, though there's quite a few chickens involved too."

They sat there for a minute, the mood lighter now, and Rose felt the knot in her stomach loosen just a fraction. Superman shifted, getting back to why he was there. "So, about your sister. Tell me everything you can. Whats her name, when's was the last time you saw her or talked to her?"

Rose took a deep breath, pulling her knees up as she wrapped her arms around them. "Her names Lily Renfield. Last time we spoke was a week ago, on the phone. She said she was going out with one of her friends... Sarah, I think... wait... yes Sarah. But I haven't been able to get in touch with Sarah either. No one's answering."

He nodded, pulling out a small notebook from under his cape and jotting down notes. "Okay, that's a start. What does Lily do? Work, school, that kind of thing?"

"She works as a waitress at this diner downtown—Mike's Place, over on Elm Street. She's been saving up for college, wants to study nursing or something. Always talking about getting out of this crap life." Rose's voice cracked a little and she looked away. "She's not like me.... She's a good girl... smart, focused. She was gonna make it big, get a real job, not stay here in this... mess."

Superman stopped writing, his expression softening as he saw the tears welling up again. "Hey, it's okay. We'll find her. What about the day she went missing? Anything specific she mentioned?"

Rose wiped her face, thinking back. "She said she was meeting Sarah for coffee or something, but that's it. Lily doesn't party or anything; she studies most nights. Keeps to herself a lot."

He reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder lightly, his touch reassuring. "You're doing great. This helps. Friends besides Sarah? Anyone she hangs out with regularly?"

"A couple from work, there's this guy named Tom who she mentions sometimes, and a girl, Emily, from her old high school. But mostly it's just studying. She's not the social type." Rose's lip trembled, and she buried her face in her hands. "She's my baby sister. I raised her after Mom bailed. She's all I got, and if something happened... I can't..."

Superman scooted closer, his voice gentle as he rubbed her back in small circles. "We're gonna find her. I promise I'll do everything I can. You're not alone in this."

She leaned into him for a second, drawing strength from the words, then pulled back with a shaky breath. "Thanks. I... I appreciate it."

He nodded, standing up slowly. "Mind if I look around?"

Rose shrugged, gesturing around the room. "Go ahead, but I've torn this place apart already. I haven't found anything that could help."

He started with the dresser, opening drawers carefully and sifting through clothes and papers. Rose got up and went to the kitchenette, pulling a soda from the mini-fridge. "Want a drink? Soda, water, wine?"

"Thanks, but I'm good," he replied, moving to the nightstand.

She cracked open the can, taking a sip as she watched him from the counter. He checked under the bed, behind the rack of clothes, even the bathroom. Nothing stood out at first, but then he paused by the window, focusing his x-ray vision through the walls and floor. The faint outline of a hidden compartment appeared under a loose floorboard near the dresser.

"Found something," he said, kneeling down and prying up the board with ease. Inside lay a small stash; a roll of cash... maybe a couple thousand dollars, a fake ID with Lily's photo but a different name, and a business card for a club called Eclipse Lounge.

Rose walked over, eyes wide. "What the...?"

He handed her the items. "Any idea what this is about?"

She took the card first, turning it over. "Eclipse? That's some fancy nightclub downtown, place where rich folks and celebs go, it's a hero spot too. Lily wouldn't... she hates that scene." Then she looked at the ID and cash, shaking her head. "Fake ID? And all this money? This isn't her.... She doesn't do this stuff."

Superman stood, pocketing the card after she handed it back. "Last time you talked, she was going out. Could she have been heading there?"

Rose paced a step, then stopped by the window, staring out at the neon sign blinking below. "She said she was getting coffee, not clubbing. But... maybe. If she had this hidden, maybe I didn't know her as well as I thought." She turned back, running a hand through her hair. "What if she was in trouble? Like, owing money or something?"

He placed the cash and ID on the dresser. "We'll figure it out. This is a lead. I'll check out the club, see if anyone recognizes her photo or the fake name."

Rose nodded, hope flickering in her eyes for the first time. "You'd do that? For real?"

"Absolutely," he said. "I'll start tonight. You got a recent photo I can take? Send it to my phone," he added before giving his number. 

She grabbed her phone, scrolling to a picture of Lily smiling at a park, and texted it to the number he gave her. "There. And... thank you. I mean it."

He smiled reassuringly. "We'll find her. Try to get some rest, I'll update you soon and if you need me don't hesitate to call."

Rose stared at him for a second longer and let out a shaky breath. "For the first time in a week, I actually feel like I can breathe a little. Like maybe there's a chance—"

A sharp crack cut her off, the window behind her shattering in a spray of glass that scattered across the floor. Something whistled through the air, aimed straight for her head. Superman's eyes widened in that split second, and he moved quicker than she could track, his hand snapping out to pluck the bullet from its path just inches from her ear.

She blinked, confused as hell, her heart slamming against her ribs. "What... what just happened?"

He held up the bullet between his fingers, showing her the flattened metal. "Someone shot at you. Get in the bathroom and stay down. Lock the door if you can."

Rose didn't argue, scrambling into the tiny bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her as she dropped to the floor by the sink.

Outside, Superman was already in motion. He traced the bullet's path back through the broken window, his vision zooming across the city blocks in seconds. The trajectory led to a rooftop two miles away, and he sniffed the bullet, catching the faint trace of gunpowder that lingered on it. He launched out the window without hesitation, covering the distance in a blur that took mere seconds, the wind howling past him as he zeroed in on the shooter perched on the edge of a high-rise under construction.

The man wore a dark tactical suit with subtle armor plating, a mask covering the lower half of his face, but Superman recognized him immediately—Bulletstorm, a local hero operating out of Des Moines. His power involved minor telekinesis that he used to guide and accelerate bullets from his custom guns. Superman had seen him in action during a team briefing months ago, praised for his work on low-level crime. And now, this same hero had just tried to assassinate an innocent woman.

Bulletstorm spun around at the sound of Superman's landing, his eyes widening behind the mask. He flipped backward off the ledge, firing mid-air with both hands, the bullets curving toward Superman.

Superman stood there and let the bullets flatten against him. For a moment, he didn't fight back, he hovered there, stunned, his mind struggling to process the situation. A hero, someone who was supposed to protect people, had just shot at a civilian. And now he was trying to kill him too? "What are you doing?" Superman shouted, his voice echoing across the rooftop. "You're supposed to be one of the good guys!"

Bulletstorm landed on a lower scaffold, reloading as he ran. "Stay out of it! This doesn't concern you!" He said before running.

Superman shook off the shock, anger building as he flew after him. Bulletstorm leapt across a wide gap to the next building, his telekinesis giving him a boost mid-jump. Superman closed the distance in an instant, grabbing him by the collar before he could land and hurling him back onto the original roof. Bulletstorm crashed skipped across the ground before he slammed into a vent shaft, the metal crumpling around him as he groaned in pain.

He pushed himself up, shaking off the impact, but Superman was already there, lifting him by the front of his suit and slamming him against a concrete pillar. "You just tried to kill her! Why? What did she do to you?"

Bulletstorm struggled though his eyes widened as he recognised him. "Superman? Shit, you're that new kid. Look, you don't understand let me go, and we can talk this out. It's not what it looks like."

Superman hesitated for a second, but the moment he loosened his grip, Bulletstorm twisted free, pulling a hidden pistol and firing point-blank at his face. The bullet flattened against Superman's skin, rage flared up inside him. He grabbed Bulletstorm's wrist, twisting it until a crack echoed. Bulletstorm screamed, dropping the gun, and Superman melted it with a quick burst of heat vision before punching him square in the jaw. The impact sent Bulletstorm sprawling, unconscious before he hit the ground.

Superman stood there, breathing heavily as anger, sadness and frustration rushed through him. What the hell was going on? A supe trying to murder someone in cold blood? It didn't make sense. He scooped up Bulletstorm's limp form and flew toward the nearest police station, the city blurring below him. He landed in the station's parking lot with a thud that cracked the asphalt, drawing stares from officers milling around outside. He strode through the front doors, tossing Bulletstorm onto the floor in the lobby like a sack. The desk sergeant jumped up, and chatter erupted as more cops rushed in.

"Is that Superman?" one officer said, pulling out his phone. "Holy shit, man, can I get a photo?"

Others joined in, crowding around. "Dude, sign my badge!" "What's it like flying?" "You really as strong as Homelander?"

Clark tried to wave them off, frustration building. "Listen, this guy's a hero. But he just attempted murder. Shot at a woman through her window. You need to arrest him."

But they kept talking over him, snapping selfies and asking more questions. "How fast can you go?" "You single?"

"Enough!" Clark shouted, his voice booming loud enough that a nearby window rattled and cracked. The room went silent. "Do your jobs. Process him for attempted murder. I'll give a statement and sign whatever I need to."

They snapped to it then, cuffing Bulletstorm as he started to stir and taking Clark to an interview room. He sat through the paperwork, explaining the events without revealing Rose's location or name, she'd nearly died at the hands of a hero, so trust was admittedly a little thin. After a few hours, he walked out, feeling more worn out than before.

Reporters swarmed him immediately outside, mics thrusting forward. "Superman, is it true you assaulted officers with your voice?" "Why are you here? Did you attack someone?"

He held up his hands. "No, nothing like that. A hero tried to murder a civilian. I stopped him and brought him in. That's it."

But they twisted it, shouting over each other. "Sources say you cracked windows, property damage?" "Is this a hero feud?"

Frustration rose again, his fists clenching at his sides, but it all stopped when a shadow passed overhead. Silver Sentinel descended, his massive white wings spread wide before folding as he landed next to Clark. The crowd hushed, phones turning to him. Clark felt a wave of nausea hit him as Silver Sentinel touched down and landed next to him. 

Reporters surged. "Silver Sentinel! Comment on the arrest?" "Is Superman out of control?"

Silver Sentinel raised a hand, his presence commanding silence. "No comment at this time. The situation is under investigation. Thank you."

He turned to Clark, leaning in close. "Rooftop. Now."

They launched up, flying to the Young Americans HQ roof. Silver Sentinel landed first, rounding on Clark the second his boots hit the gravel. "What the hell were you thinking? Assaulting a fellow hero? Dragging him to the police like a common criminal? Do you have any idea the bad press this brings on Des Moines, on the Young Americans?"

Clark held his ground. "He tried to kill someone! A woman came to us for help about her missing sister, and hours later she is being shot at her through her window. I caught the bullet—"

Silver Sentinel cut him off. "And you think airing our dirty laundry helps? We're heroes, Superman. Of course there are bad apples, but we handle them internally. We don't parade them for the press, don't send them to prison where they spill secrets."

Clark shook his head. "That's wrong. People rely on us we have to be accountable, just like any public servant. Locking secrets away makes us no better than any corrupt politician or criminal."

Silver Sentinel stepped closer, his voice rising. "Accountable? Hearing about heroes doing awful things kills the faith people have in us. It makes our job impossible. We inspire hope, but we can't do that when one of our own gets accused of attempted murder!"

Clark pushed back. "If I wasn't there, she'd be dead! Why was he trying to kill her? Something bigger's going on here can't you see?"

"Superman, we're not police, not detectives, not secret agents. We don't have the training for kidnapping cases. I would not only be immoral for us to get involved—which was why she was turned away. It would be irresponsible as we could very well make things worse."

"What about the police doing nothing? It's been a week!" Clark shouted. 

Silver Sentinel frowned. "It's been a week Superman! These cases aren't simple, and the city's full of people needing help just like her. Cops have their hands full!" He took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest while he looked at Clark. "You had good intentions, and I see the heart of a hero in you. But like I said before, you're part of a team now, and you need to keep the team in mind when you do things. Your actions tonight affected not just the Young Americans, but every hero who operates in this city."

Clark felt a pang of guilt hit him at the man's words, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drag the team down. I won't do it again," he said, even though he didn't truly believe that he had done something wrong deep down.

Silver Sentinel hesitated for a moment, and his expression softened just a touch while he studied Clark's face. "I don't want to do this, kid. But I don't think I can have you on the team anymore."

Clark's eyes widened right away, and he stepped forward with his hands out in front of him. "Please, no. Wait, just give me another chance. I promise I'll follow the rules from now on. Don't kick me off the team. I need this... I need to be with the others."

Silver Sentinel shook his head slowly and kept his arms crossed. "Superman, you went off on your own tonight, and you put everyone at risk. The media is already asking questions, and the police are involved now. I can't let that slide."

Clark swallowed hard and kept his voice calm even though his throat felt tight. "But kicking me off completely, that's not fair. I've been trying so hard to prove myself, and I thought I was helping. Please, don't take that away from me. I can do better if you just tell me what you expect."

Silver Sentinel rubbed the back of his neck and looked out over the city for a few seconds before he turned back. "It's not just about you proving yourself. It's about trust. The team has to know that everyone has their back."

Clark took another step closer. "Then let me earn that trust back. Give me restrictions or extra training or whatever you want. Just don't cut me off from the team entirely. My friends are on the Young Americans—they're the only people who really get what this life is like for me."

Silver Sentinel let out a slow breath and uncrossed his arms while he thought it over. "You're making this harder than it needs to be, kid. I have to set an example, or the next person thinks they can do the same thing."

"Please," Clark said again,m. "I messed up, and I'm sorry. I'll take whatever punishment you think is fair, but don't make it being off the team for good. I want to learn from you—I respect you more than anyone. Just keep me around in some way."

Silver Sentinel looked at him for a long moment, and then he rubbed his chin while he considered the options. "Alright, let's compromise. You're off the Young Americans roster for now, that part stands, because the team needs to see consequences. But you'll be my personal apprentice instead. You'll still see your friends when we cross paths, and you'll still be a hero, but under my direct guidance. We'll train together, and we'll patrol together. You answer to me, and only me. Sound fair?"

Clark's face lit up with relief right away, and he nodded quickly. "Yes! I agree to that. I won't let you down, I swear."

Silver Sentinel clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "Good. But if you mess up again, it's over for good this time no more chances. And drop the kidnapping case. Leave it to the pros who know how to handle it."

Clark opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but then he closed it and nodded reluctantly. "Understood. I'll stay out of it."

Silver Sentinel's tone warmed up a bit as he let go of Clark's shoulder. "Things will work out in the end. That hero will face punishment for what he did, we'll handle it quietly through the right channels."

He turned toward the edge of the roof, crouched for a second, and then launched himself into the air, leaving Clark standing there alone while the city lights sprawled out below him.

...

The next few days after the incident with Bulletstorm turned rough for Clark in ways he had not anticipated. Media outlets across the country ran stories about the arrest, and headlines painted him in a negative light that twisted the facts. Commentators on news channels claimed he had let his power go to his head, that he acted childish by escalating a situation with another hero, that he needed someone to put him in his place. Online forums filled with threads where users speculated about his motives, and some accused him outright of assaulting Bulletstorm without evidence. None of the reports came close to the truth about stopping an attempted murder, Clark watched clips where anchors debated his behavior as if they knew him personally.

His managers at Vought worked overtime during that period, drafting statements for him to read in interviews and apologies to issue on social media. They scheduled calls where they coached him on phrasing that would calm public opinion, Clark followed their guidance even if the words made him angry and frustrated. At home his Ma and Pa watched the coverage with him one evening, and they dismissed the claims immediately, telling him they believed every word he had shared about the events. Annie and Maria sent messages of support too, checking in during breaks at headquarters and reminding him that they were with him. Silver Sentinel kept a close watch on him in the days that followed, appearing at team meetings more often and pulling him aside for brief talks whenever he had an interview lined up.

Clark spent those days feeling trapped inside the headquarters whenever he visited, the walls closing in with every new alert about another article. He wanted distance from the noise, so he slipped out when he could, changing into civilian clothes to avoid recognition. That led him one evening to a burger joint he frequented with Annie and Maria. 

They sat in a corner booth, Clark in jeans and a hoodie with the hood up, nursing a soda while he picked at fries. Annie and Maria argued across from him about a recent team decision, Maria insisting that accepting a certain sponsor deal would boost their visibility, while Annie pushed back that the product conflicted with values they should uphold as Christians.

Clark half-listened, his mind elsewhere as he ate a bite of his burger. His phone buzzed on the table, vibrating against the Formica surface. He glanced down and saw the notification, a new message from Rose. The preview showed part of a longer thread, dozens of unread texts piling up over the days. Questions about the shooter, updates on her worry for Lily, pleas for any news. He had not replied to a single one... guilt hit him hard in the chest at that, twisting like a knot he could not loosen. He set the phone face-down, hoping that not seeing it might help, but it didn't.

Annie noticed the shift in his expression first, pausing mid-sentence as she followed his gaze to the phone. "Hey, what's wrong? Did someone message you?"

Maria stopped too, leaning forward with curiosity. "Yeah, spill. You've been zoned out for the last five minutes."

Clark hesitated, picking up a fry and turning it over in his fingers. "It's nothing big. Just forget about it... I don't want to drag you two into more trouble."

Annie reached across the table, her hand resting near his. "Come on, Clark. We're your friends. Talk to us."

Maria nodded, crossing her arms but softening her tone. "Yeah, whatever it is, we got you."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair under the hood. "... okay... You know about the media mess with Bulletstorm, how I turned him in for attempted murder. There's more to it. The woman he shot at... she came to headquarters asking for help with her missing sister, Lily. I... I went to her place after, and I promised I'd look into it."

Annie's eyes widened slightly, and Maria leaned back. "You did what?"

Clark winced but nodded. "Yeah I went there and looked through her apartment and found some a lead, but after the mess with bulletstorm Silver Sentinel shut it down hard. Told me to drop it, that we're not detectives. And now she's messaging me nonstop, asking for updates, and I haven't replied. It just feels wrong ignoring her. Even if he made sense about not having the training and it being too risky, it still doesn't sit right. She's out there scared, and I'm doing nothing."

Maria shook her head right away. "He's right, though. Delete her number and forget about it. Let the cops handle it, it's their job after all. Plus if we start poking around, we get kicked off the team and then poof our careers over."

Annie frowned, glancing between them. "But something's off here. A hero tries to kill her? After she asks us for help? We can't just ignore that. Maybe we should do something."

Maria shot back. "Easy for you to say. This team is everything to me, the publicity, the deals. I get kicked off, I lose it all. Back to nothing."

Annie leaned forward. "There are more important things than money and fame. We're supposed to be heroes."

Maria rolled her eyes. "Ha! Like you'd risk it either. You're scared of losing your spot just like me. You just want Clark to stick his neck out so you feel good without doing shit yourself."

The argument heated up, voices overlapping as Maria accused Annie of hypocrisy and Annie fired back about priorities. Clark sat there watching, the guilt mixing with frustration until he couldn't take it. "Enough," he said firmly, loud enough to cut through their argument. They both stopped and looked at him. "Maria's right. No matter how much we want to help, we don't have the training. I could make things worse—get someone hurt. It's not worth risking everything." He hoped that saying those words would make him believe them, yet every word that came out of his mouth felt like gravel. 

Maria sat back with a smug nod, while Annie crossed her arms, clearly pissed but silent. Maria then excused herself to the bathroom a minute later, leaving Clark and Annie alone. Annie leaned forward, reaching across to touch his hand lightly. "Clark... I know you. You want to help her, don't you?"

He met her eyes, nodding slowly. "Yeah. I do... But this is my dream, even if it's not how I thought it would be, it's still my dreams, I've wanted to be a hero since I was a kid, but if I do this Silver Sentinel kicks me off, and it's over. I'll never be a hero again."

She squeezed his hand gently. "I get it. Throwing away what you've wanted forever... it's not easy. And yeah, Maria's not wrong I wouldn't go against Mom on my own. It makes me sick thinking about it. But you... do what you think is right. I'll support you either way."

Clark smiled faintly. "Thanks, Annie. That means a lot." He stood, pulling on his hoodie. "I'm gonna head out, get some sleep. Tell Maria bye for me?"

She nodded, standing too for a quick hug. "Will do. Night, Clark."

"Night."

He slipped out the side door, the cool air hitting him as he walked into the night.

...

As time passed Clark tried to move on and push the guilt aside and focus on his schedule with Silver Sentinel. He turned off his phone completely during that time to avoid seeing any more texts from her, and told himself that he needed to follow Silver Sentinel's advice if he wanted to be a hero. He threw himself into the work that Vought arranged, Silver Sentinel scheduled more joint activities where they collaborated on events and patrols that kept Clark busy from morning until evening.

Silver Sentinel started by inviting Clark to a community outreach program in a local park, where they set up booths with information about safety tips that residents could use in emergencies. Clark handed out pamphlets alongside Silver Sentinel, and they answered questions from families who stopped by to talk about hero life. Silver Sentinel pulled him into demonstrations where they showed how to use basic tools for rescue situations, and Clark practiced the techniques while volunteers watched. They wrapped up the event with a group photo that staff took for social media, and Silver Sentinel commented on how Clark handled the crowd well.

The collaboration continued with a visit to a children's hospital the next day, where Clark joined Silver Sentinel in reading stories to patients in the wards. He sat with kids who asked him to sign casts or drawings, and Silver Sentinel shared experiences from his career that related to overcoming challenges. Clark listened as Silver Sentinel talked about missions that involved helping people in medical crises. They spent hours moving from room to room, and Clark posed for pictures with nurses and children who thanked them for coming.

Silver Sentinel scheduled a patrol the next afternoon, and they flew over commercial districts where they monitored traffic and responded to a report of a shoplifter who had fled a store. Clark followed Silver Sentinel's instructions as they apprehended the individual, Silver Sentinel explained how to make the take down more flashy to make things more interesting. They returned to headquarters afterward, where Silver Sentinel reviewed footage from the cams and pointed out areas for improvement that Clark noted for next time.

The highlight arrived during a talk show appearance in Des Moines, where Clark debuted the new outfit that the design team had prepared for him. He walked onto the set wearing the leather jacket over his suit, with the S emblem visible underneath, along with leather pants and biker goggles perched on his head. The host, a woman named Lisa Grant, greeted them as they sat on the couch, and the audience applauded when she introduced Superman and Silver Sentinel. Lisa began with questions about recent events, and Clark responded with the scripted answers that his managers had provided.

"Lisa, I learned from the situation, and I apologised to Bulletstorm," Clark said while he maintained eye contact with the camera. "I respect the hero community, and I commit to following protocols that protect everyone involved."

Lisa nodded and turned to Silver Sentinel. "And you, as his mentor what do you think about Superman's potential?"

Silver Sentinel leaned back in his seat. "He has real potential, Lisa. It would be a waste to send him back to wherever he came from without giving him a shot. That's why I've taken him on as my personal apprentice."

Lisa's eyes widened, and she leaned forward. "Apprentice? Does that mean Superman could eventually take over the Young Americans as leader?"

Silver Sentinel smiled while he kept his answer open-ended. "Let's see how things develop. He's got the skills, and with guidance, who knows what he could achieve."

Lisa shifted topics. "Well, whatever happens, you're both looking sharp. Silver Sentinel, I have to say, you seem refreshed lately, especially your face, everyone agrees you're looking younger everyday."

She had a point there Clark had thought. Silver sentinel wasn't just looking younger he was younger. Most people couldn't see it, but with his superior vision Clark was able to see how much younger his skin actually was. He didn't know why this was happening, but he knew that it started around six months ago. Hell even his hair had started regaining some of its colour.  

Silver Sentinel laughed and waved a hand. "Thanks, Lisa. Part of it comes from this new rejuvenating cream we've partnered with. Keeps the skin fresh after long days saving the city."

The audience chuckled, and Lisa called for a break. Off-air, Silver Sentinel turned to Clark. "You're doing good, kid. Keep it up."

Lisa agreed while she checked her notes. "Yeah, numbers are coming in already people love the new outfit. Way more engagement than the old one."

Clark smiled at them both and thanked them, but the expression did not match how he felt inside. But he stuffed it down with everything else that he had been feeling. 

...

Days kept passing and despite the closer working relationship with Silver Sentinel, Clark still thought about Rose every night when he sat on the edge of his bed in Smallville. He looked at his phone where her messages sat unread, the last one from days ago calling him a prick and a monster for building her hope and then vanishing. The guilt ate at him, but he followed Silver Sentinel's orders and did not reply, even when it kept him up staring at the ceiling.

One evening after a long day of events, Clark sighed as he prepared for bed, setting his phone on the nightstand. It buzzed suddenly, lighting up with a new message from Rose. 

Please help me.

He stared at it, the words hitting him hard. Something had been building inside Clark for months—ever since he first joined the team and saw the scripted reality of hero work, through the dress-downs for unauthorized patrols, the Bulletstorm mess, and now this. Those three words snapped it all loose, releasing everything he had pushed down.

"Fuck this!" Clark shouted, the curse feeling foreign on his tongue as it was probably the first time he had said it in his life. He changed into his suit at super speed, the fabric blurring as he moved, and launched out his window, breaking the sound barrier with a boom that rattled the house. He headed straight for Des Moines, a fire burning in his chest.

_____________________________________

Rose sat on the edge of her mattress in the apartment above the Neon Palace, the room closed off from the world with blankets nailed over the windows that blocked every bit of light from outside. She had not left the space in days since the night someone shot at her, and she had not returned to work at the club either. The manager had left voicemails that she ignored, and she spent her time curled up or pacing the floor while she listened for any sound that might mean danger approached again. She kept the door locked with the chain and a chair wedged under the knob, and she avoided opening the curtains even to check the alley below.

She held a half-empty bottle of vodka that she had bought from the corner store before locking herself in, and she took pulls from it while she sat cross-legged on the bed. Her hands shook as she reached for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand, lighting one with the lighter that clicked several times before the flame caught. She inhaled deeply, the smoke filling her lungs before she exhaled it slowly into the stale air of the room. Every noise from the club downstairs or the hallway outside made her freeze. She stubbed out the cigarette only to light another minutes later. She had tried to contact Superman every day since he appeared and saved her, sending texts that started with questions about Lily and turned into desperate pleas for help. She had believed him when he looked at her and promised he would find her sister, but after that night he stopped answering completely. The silence from him left her feeling betrayed on top of terrified, and she spent hours staring at her phone waiting for a reply that never came.

She set the bottle down and picked up the phone again, scrolling through the unanswered messages she had sent him. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard as she considered typing another one, but she set it aside instead and took another drink. The vodka burned going down, and she coughed before lighting yet another cigarette. Her legs bounced with nervous energy, and she got up to pace the small floor space, checking the door lock for the tenth time that hour. The fear for Lily mixed with the terror for herself, she felt trapped with no options left except waiting in the dark.

BANG

A sudden bang echoed from the door, the frame rattling hard. Rose dropped the cigarette on the carpet, stomping it out as she backed toward the bed. Another bang followed though it was louder this time, and muffled voices came from the hallway.

"Open up! We know you're home!"

She grabbed the chair from under the knob and pushed it harder against the door, bracing her shoulder into it. "Leave me alone or im I'm calling the cops!"

Laughter answered from the other side. "Cops ain't coming for you babe, you're all ours," he shouted before laughing again. They hit the door again, the wood cracking around the lock. Rose looked around frantically for anything to use as a weapon, spotting a large lamp on the dresser. She yanked it free from the cord and held it like a club as the door shook with more and more impacts. The chain snapped with a metallic ping, and the chair skidded across the floor. An arm pushed through first, and she swung the lamp, connecting with a grunt from the man on the other side. More hands followed, shoving the door wider despite her efforts to hold it.

She dropped the lamp when it did no good and bolted across the room, dodging a grab that caught the sleeve of her shirt. She slammed into the bathroom door, twisting the lock behind her as she stumbled inside and pressed her back against it. The men laughed louder as they forced the main door fully open, their boots thumping on the floor while they spread out in the apartment.

"Come out, girl," one called, banging on the bathroom door. "Make it easy on us and we'll put you out quickly."

Rose slid down to the floor, her breathing ragged as the door rattled with kicks. Wood splintered with each hit, she grabbed her phone from her pocket with trembling fingers. She opened the messages to Superman one last time and typed quickly.

Please help me

She hit send, then pulled her knees to her chest and sobbed quietly, the sounds muffled against her arms.

The door burst open with a final crash, and rough hands grabbed her, dragging her out into the main room. "LET GO!!! HELP ME SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!!!" She screamed and kicked, nails scratching at arms that held her, but they hauled her across the floor while they laughed at her struggles. One pinned her arms behind her back, another gripped her legs, and they threw her onto the bed. She cried harder, thrashing as they leaned over her, hands reaching for her clothes while they made crude comments about what they planned to do before they finished her off.

A whoosh filled the room, air rushing in so fast that they were nearly knocked over.. The men paused, looking around confused, until suddenly one of them flew backward into the wall with a thud that knocked him out cold. Another turned, but something hit him in the side and sent him sprawling across the floor. The third tried to pull a gun, but he crumpled before he could raise it. It happened so quick none of them saw the figure that moved among them, they just dropped unconscious one by one, bodies slumping to the floor.

Rose curled into a ball on the bed, screaming when a hand touched her shoulder. "Stop! Stop! Don't touch me!"

"It's me, Superman," Clark said calmly. "You're safe, they won't hurt you anymore."

She fought against the grip for a second, panic blinding her, but then the voice registered, and she looked up through tears. It was him, standing there. Relief crashed over her, and she threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. He hugged her back carefully, one hand on her back while she clung tightly to him. "You left me," she wept, words coming out between sobs. "You promised you'd help, and then nothing. I thought you didn't care."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I made a huge mistake. I Thought staying away was the right call, that I was helping you, but it wasn't. I won't leave anyone who needs help again. I swear."

She cried harder for a minute, the fear and anger pouring out until she started to calm in his arms. He waited until her breathing slowed, then pulled back a little. "You need to pack. Quick as you can," he told her. 

Rose wiped her face, confused. "Pack? For what?"

"You're in danger here," Clari said. "I'm moving you someplace safe tonight."

She shook her head. "I can't afford that kinda shit, I have a job and I need it to pay rent or I'm out on my ass."

Clark chuckled softly. "I'm a millionaire. I'm sure I can spare some change. Now go pack your clothes or whatever you need for a while."

Rose pushed herself upright and tested her weight on her feet, she hated how her knees wanted to fold again. She kept her eyes on the two men on the floor while she crossed to the dresser, and she opened the top drawer with one hand that still felt shaken. "What about them," she asked bitterly. She shoved a couple of shirts into her bag without folding them, and she kept glancing back like she expected one of the men to sit up.

Clark stood near the doorway and stared down at them. His jaw tightened. "Sadly I can't do anything yet," he said, he sounded annoyed with himself for admitting it out loud. "If I drag them to a station or I leave them for someone else to find, they will start asking questions, and I don't want my name in any report. Not right now."

Rose stopped moving for a second and looked at him. "They tried to kill me."

"I know," he said with a nod. "But think about it, last week you had someone in a cape go after you, and now you have these guys showing up trying to finish the job. That is not random. Something is going on here and it's not good. I can't let them see that I'm involved yet, but I promise you'll get the justice you deserve."

Rose swallowed and looked back at the men. One of them had his cheek pressed into the carpet, and his phone was half under his hand. She could still hear her own breathing, and hated how loud it felt in the room. "So what, we just leave them," she said trying to keep her voice calm. "We let them wake up and crawl back to whoever sent them."

Clark took a slow breath. "We leave them alive and unbroken, and we leave them without proof that I was here. That gives us a chance to follow the thread."

Rose's face tightened. "And if they come back."

"They will not find you," he said. 

She stared at him like she wanted to argue, but she knew she could not do this on her own. Her hands went back into the drawer, and she started pulling clothes out again, she forced herself to keep moving so she did not freeze. "Okay," she said. "Fine... we'll do it your way."

Clark's shoulders loosened a little. "Thank you."

Rose dragged the duffel closer and stuffed in jeans and a hoodie, she grabbed underwear and socks without thinking too hard about what she was taking. She opened another drawer and found a small pouch with chargers and a spare battery pack, and dropped it in. She grabbed her toothbrush from the bathroom and shoved it into the side pocket, but paused when she saw her own face in the mirror. Her makeup was smeared, and her lip was split, and she looked like one of her friends after she'd been thrown around by their boyfriends. She hated seeing it. 

She walked back into the room and pointed at the unconscious men without getting close. "You really think this is tied to the Eclipse Lounge."

Clark looked down at the guy with the phone again. "I don't know for sure, but all of this can't be a coincidence."

Rose zipped the duffel most of the way and checked the room again like she was doing a final sweep. She took her wallet from the nightstand, and she hesitated when her phone lit up with old notifications. She did not unlock it. She just shoved it into her pocket.

"You're really going there," she asked.

"I am," Clark said. "I promised I'd find your sister and that's what I'm going to do."

Rose looked at him with a grateful smile. "Thank you... for trying to find her... and for saving me."

Clark smiled at her. "It's what I do," he replied. 

Rose's throat tightened as guilt started to gnaw at her. "Those texts," she said. "I was scared and I was mad, I called you names. I said you were fake. I said you didn't care."

Clark's mouth twitched like he wanted to shrug it off, and he did not. "I deserved it," he said. "I wasn't there when you needed me, I wasn't a hero."

Rose stared at him for a second, then she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around him. She held on tighter than she meant to, and she felt him tense for a beat, then he relaxed and put his arms around her too. "Thank you," she said into his shirt. "For showing up. For not leaving."

"I'm here," he said.

She pulled back and wiped at her face with the side of her hand. "So what happens now," she asked.

Clark looked toward the window, then back at her. "You leave the city tonight," he said. "I'm going to take you somewhere far away, where they won't even bother looking for you."

Rose let out a breath and nodded slowly. "Okay," she said. "Where am I going."

Clark told her, and she listened, and she repeated it back so she knew she had it right. She hated that she had to run, and she also knew that staying would turn into another night like this one. When she finished, she picked up the duffel and tried to swing it onto her shoulder, she winced and dropped it a little.

Clark stepped in. "I've got it," he said.

Rose raised her chin anyway. "I can carry my own bag."

"You can," he said, "but I'm still carrying it."

She almost laughed, and the sound came out rough. "Fine."

Clark disappeared for a second, and Rose's heart jumped even though she knew what he could do. He came back with a thick stack of cash in his hand, and he held it out to her like he had already decided she was taking it.

"Five grand," he said. "It should cover a month while I sort this out."

Rose stared at it. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he said, and he pressed it into her hand. "I've got plenty to spare and it's just sitting there. This will let you live comfortably where you end up."

Her fingers closed around the money, and she looked up at him with a mix of anger and relief. "What are you going to do," she asked.

"I'm going to the Eclipse Lounge," he said. "I'm going to find Lily, and I'm going to find out who decided you were worth targeting. Then I'm going to make sure it stops."

Rose swallowed and nodded, she did not try to argue again. She glanced at the men on the floor one last time. "They wake up," she said. "They go back and they tell someone they failed."

"Let them," Clark said. "I doubt it'll be the boss himself, but maybe it'll give me a lead."

Rose took one more breath, and she forced herself to focus on the next step instead of everything that had already happened.

"You ready," Clark asked.

She nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I'm ready."

Clark picked up the duffel with one hand, then he lifted Rose with the other. Rose grabbed his shoulder on instinct, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a beat when she felt the rush of cold air at the broken window.

"Hold on," he said.

They went out through the window and into the night, and the room dropped away under them. Rose opened her eyes after a second and saw the city lights below, and she felt her stomach flip, and she tightened her grip. Now that Clark was away from the city he shot across the sky at incredible speeds while holding Rose close to him.