By Paul-Gabriel Wiener (pgwfolc@netscape.net)
Summary: Superman finds himself powerless at the hands of a "villain" he can never defeat.
Some characters are copyrighted by D.C. Comics, Inc. I'm not one of them, though… (This is a concept piece) ***
***
Our story began in a small, soundproofed room. It could have been anywhere in Metropolis or anyplace else that I chose. Inside it there were two male figures. One of them was a VERY confused Clark Kent. The other was a somewhat overweight teenager of average height with a bald head. The hair thing wasn't HIS choice, but it wasn't a serious illness either. It's just the way things were.
"What…how did I get here? Where is here? What's going on? Who are you?" Clark was desperately trying to figure things out. One minute he was at his desk at the Planet, and now he found himself in this room.
"Hello, Superman. My name is Paul-Gabriel Wiener, and I'm responsible for this." The teen was very confident, and seemed so in control that for a minute Clark forgot that he wasn't in his Superman costume. "I know what you're about to say, Superman. (Actually, I'm the one who has to figure out what you're going to say in the first place…) I know your secret. Where I come from, everybody does. You see, you're just a comic book character. On the other hand, I'm a writer. Since I write everything that happens to you here, I have total power over you. You would be putty in my hands, but my hands are currently occupied with my keyboard. You see, Superman, I can do anything I want to you, and you're helpless to do anything about it. For instance, why are you just standing there staring at me? It's simple. I don't want you to attack me or do anything else right now. I see that you don't believe me. Well, let me show you what I can do. I can make Lois forget you completely." Even as Paul said the words, Lois opened the door. (Clark hadn't even noticed the door before. He could have sworn it wasn't even there when this all started…)
"Oh, hi Paul! Who's this?"
"Lois, I'd like you to meet Clark Kent, you remember him, don't you?" As soon as the words were out, Lois changed totally.
"Clark! I didn't even see you there!"
Paul dismissed Lois with a wave of his hand. She vanished in a puff of smoke. "Sure, that was pretty thin dialogue, but I'm just trying to prove a point here. Now then, I can make Lois do whatever I want…" Lois re-appeared, and went through a series of mood changes going through the whole spectrum. If Clark hadn't had his Super-speed, he wouldn't have been able to see the changes. He raised his eyebrows as Lois flashed by in a harem costume. "I'll just bet you're flashing back to that time when Lois was being influenced by that love gas…well, of course you are…that's what I wanted you to think of… Hmmm…What else shall I do to you? Well, I can use those geniuses at Star Labs to fill over some impossible gaps…OK, I'll just create a box here…" A strange-looking metal box suddenly popped up out of nowhere. On the side were the words "Star Labs" with the little design that goes with it. Paul began to rummage through it. He pulled out a chunk of Kryptonite. Clark fell to his knees. "Of course, the Kryptonite can't really kill you. You'll save yourself or be saved in the nick of time. This time, I think you'll manage to muster up the strength for a blast of that wonderful heat vision of yours…" The Kryptonite exploded. "Oh, but now you've just turned it into a gas, and you're breathing it in. It just made things worse. Don't worry, though. I can just pull out this syringe. It has a cure for Kryptonite in it. But your skin is invulnerable. Oh, but you're weak from the Kryptonite. I'll just make the needle out of a new alloy in order to be sure, and then inject you with it. Now, I'll take the needle out before your skin becomes invulnerable again…" Clark suddenly felt much better. He got up and faced Paul again. "Now then, what would be a good time limit for that antidote to last? It can't be forever. I'll just let it run out between the end of this story and the beginning of the next one…Now, let me tell you something, Superman. Kryptonite won't be the thing that kills you in the end. It won't be some monster either. What will really kill you is the public. If they lose interest in you, we (the writers in general) may have to kill you off to bring your popularity back. Then, you go off to the North Pole and heal while we get someone to hold up the fort while you're gone. If the public likes your replacement, he'll get his own series. If not, we'll just kill him off and make you get out of the mess that creates.
"Oh, look…I'm so wrapped up in myself, I'm using run-ons and starting sentences with 'but.' I'm using 'Oh' too many times, too. Ah, well. I could edit that out, but I'll leave it in this time. Back to your death. Great. I just made an incomplete sentence. What is wrong with my grammar today? I could get in trouble for all these mistakes. You haven't even gotten a line since the beginning. I'm just messing around with you, and you just stand there staring at me. It's a good thing I don't have to do a characterization of you…my audience already knows you. I'm losing the topic again. I was about to explain that if that desperate measure doesn't save your ratings, you'll die a slow death and eventually be forgotten. Of course, you won't die at any particular moment. You'll just be left to stand guard over the city or something. By the way, Supes, Imust say that I like the 'arms folded over your chest' look a lot better than that 'hands on hips' thing you used to do. You wouldn't remember that, though. That's from the old series. The pose is very useful, though. It lets us supervillains get out these nice monologues. You just stand there in the background looking like some statue in spandex. Well, what else shall I do with my power? I could bring Lex back and have him clone you. It could be one clone with equal power. Then, you'd have to outsmart it. Or, I could make Lex tamper with it, making it stronger. Then, the clone would have some fatal flaw. On the other hand, I could make it a few thousand clones. Then they'd all have to have a flaw. Nah…the clone thing has been done to death. What else should I do to you, Superman?"
"Well, maybe you ARE as powerful as you claim, but I can see that you still have limits to your power. You have to keep your audience interested. You can't just keep doing things to me with no explanation of where they came from. People would get bored. Also, I have to come out on top, or else you won't be able to write about me. It seems that with great power comes great responsibility."
"That's Spider-Man's line, Clark."
"Who?"
"Oh, that's right. You live in the D.C. Universe. You don't know about Spider-Man. There have been a few cross- overs, but you don't remember those. Those were in the comics, not the show. Well, I could bring Spidey here…" Clark's eyes widened as a figure swung by outside of a window that wasn't even there seconds ago. "Nah…it would be much simpler to simply create a branch of Marvel Comics in Metropolis. There, now Superman is a Spider-Man reader. He's a lot like you, you know. Created long before most other heroes, still not as old as he should be, blue-and-red costume, you know he even works at a newspaper (or at least he used to). He used to sell pictures of himself." Clark smiled. "Well, I guess it's time for me to wrap up this story. Oh, one more thing…I'm working on this other story about you, and I'm stuck on what to do here…got any ideas?"
THE END
(abuse.txt)