Who. Jennifer Hill and her alter ego Clark Kent What. Being the tiny woman of steel that she is Where. Metropolis When. Thursday evening, September 8th 2011 Warnings. Violence
Fire alarms rank out sharply in the night, followed by the blaring of engine horns and screams from the third floor of a tall apartment building becoming increasingly engulfed in flames. Not exactly a foreign site in a city like Metropolis, there was always something going on after dark that usually involved screaming and fire in some way. No rest for the wicked, and certainly no rest for the city's heroes.
A minute later there was the distinct sound of someone throwing hard punches outside, just below the building and into the small alley behind it. Someone had caught the perpetrators trying to make a quick exit and was contenting themselves with slamming the two men against the brick wall until they both slumped to the ground unconscious. A small brunette emerged from the alley and craned her head up to look at the fire in question.
Her name was Jen Hill. Or more accurately for tonight, Superman.
It didn't take her long to get everyone trapped on the third floor out of the building and across the street to safety. Clark's ability to take flight and ward off heat was a never ending bonus for her in situations like this. She could have asked the JL to come with her tonight and probably should have, but she often didn't when she made the decision to patrol Metropolis. This was her city, or it was Clark's, one of the two or both. Ever the lone man of steel she was just as determined to protect this place all by herself, even though Carey and Lex had already dug their filthy paws into the place pretty deeply already. Whatever, didn't matter. Jen and Clark could handle it. They would stay here and put a stop to whatever their arch nemesis planned just like they always did. This was her city, and she'd do whatever she could to protect it.
OH MY GOD, MY SON'S STILL UP THERE!
It was just like in the movies, only somehow even cheesier. Jen's head jerked around with a determined look in her eyes to where the bystander was pointing frantically, using her x-ray vision to see through the brick lain structure and indeed there was a person still trapped up there. A young boy, couldn't have been much older than eight, surrounded by a circle of flames in one of the bedrooms. It wasn't a hard decision to make, Jen immediately shot up into the air and flew straight into the flames without a thought other then getting that kid out. Two seconds later she was bursting out of a side window (mercifully already open) with the boy in her arms, followed swiftly by a new explosion of fire that nearly got them before she veered sharply to the left and dove straight for the ground. They landed safely, only a little covered in soot and Jen handed the kid off to his mother who thanked her with tears in her eyes.
Thank you, Superman. Thank you.
Jen only nodded, making some cliche remark about just doing her job before she exited as swiftly as she'd come, leaving the fire fighters already in position to put out the rest of the fire. This had become something of a nightly routine for Jen, going out on her own and trying to save people. Ever since Josh had left and especially after that party where she'd failed to save three people from their untimely deaths, the guilt was eating her up inside. None of it mattered, nothing mattered because she wasn't doing enough. Why were people still thanking her?
She'd lost her way. Taking flight into the night sky again and circling around the city of Metropolis looking for other people to help, she knew she had. Carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders was just something that she and Clark did, but it was when their own loved ones started leaving them that they couldn't cope. They could save everyone except for the people that really mattered, no matter what someone always got hurt, and every day in the absence of all the friends she'd lost she just kept trying. Pushing herself harder and stretching herself even thinner, trying to save everyone. Who was going to be the one to save them?
The next morning the main elevator of the Daily Planet dinged on the eighth floor and the door opened to a small, well dressed brunette with glasses. She carried a clip board in one hand and a tape recorder in the other, ready to try again.