This is an imaginary story (which may never happen, but then again may) about a perfect man who came from the sky and did only good. About how he was born faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound; how he grew up with loving parents who taught him to use his powers for truth, justice, and the American way; how he struggled to help all mankind with his powers, while maintaining the normal life that people like you and me take for granted. This is an imaginary story....

Aren't the all?

	The Man of Steel..... "Another Story of the Century"
Superman #9 - September, Year One	by Steve Crosby

The headline took up half the cover of Time Magazine. Luthor's picture took up the other half. Him, and the poor baby girl held in his arms.

Lex Luthor's eyes stared up at Clark Kent's, as though mocking him.

Lex Luthor, the great philanthropist, who had spent millions in emergency rescue and construction in the wake of Superman's "rampage". Lex Luthor, the humanitarian who personally freed a crying baby from the rubble, out of her mother's cold, dead hands. Lex Luthor, the new father who adopted the baby girl as his own. Lex Luthor, and his daughter Lena, on the cover of Time Magazine.

Lex Luthor, Time Magazine's Man of the Year.

Clark Kent didn't know he had done it until it had happened. A small hole had been burnt through each lens of his glasses. The cover of the magazine had a gaping hole in it, exactly where Lex Luthor's picture had been.

Though startled by his momentary loss of control, Clark Kent moved fast to hide what had happened. The magazine was quickly dropped into his desk drawer, facedown so that the cover couldn't be seen. Clark knew that the glasses would be more difficult. He didn't have a spare set with him.

Lowering his head, Clark slipped his glasses off. Then, reaching down, Clark reached under his shoes and found a small pebble. Crushing and rubbing the pebble between his thumb and forefinger, Clark created a small amount of sand. Acting with a combination of microscopic and x-ray visions, Clark carefully dropped a few grains of sand through each hole in his lenses while heating them into glass.

It was over in a few seconds. After having scrutinized his glasses for any flaws, Clark slipped them back onto his face and looked up. Nobody in the Daily Planet newsroom had noticed.

It was a good thing Clark hadn't taken another few seconds, though, because he then heard a pair of footsteps coming in his direction; sneakers, with a light step, a young man, little more than a boy. A faint smile crossed Clark Kent's face as he turned around. He didn't need super-senses to know who was rushing to greet him.

"Hi, Mr. Kent!" greeted Jimmy Olsen enthusiastically.

"Hi Jimmy," responded Clark. "I'm glad to see you back. Did you talk Perry into giving you back your old job?"

"Better." Jimmy Olson was excited. "He made me Senior Staff Photographer. I couldn't believe it, Clark. At the most, I expected having to work from the bottom again as a low-rate freelancer."

"Perry doesn't ignore talent. Whatever you've done in the past, Jimmy, you still have that." Clark smiled. "It's a terrific piece of news. Lois and I would be more than happy to celebrate with you."

Jimmy's expression soured. "I don't think I'd feel right about that, Clark. Not after what I almost did. I want to apologize to you about that, and I hope you could pass the word along to Supes. I doubt he considers me much as a pal right now."

"I'm sure that's not true, Jimmy." Clark was positive about that. "In the end, you put journalism responsibility above rating. You didn't go through with the story, and that's all that matters."

"And it's a good thing too." Jimmy shook his head. "I'd really dodged a bullet by doing the right thing. WGBS and I would've gotten sued for sure if that poor guy didn't get killed first. Always verify the story. That's one lesson. I didn't learn very well."

Clark smiled. "Well, it's pretty much automatic when it comes to photographs."

"Heh, no wonder I never put much thought into it. So, when do you and Lois wanna go celebrate?"

Superman, I have completed my analysis!

Hearing the sub-sonic message, Clark Kent quickly excused himself.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy, but I just remembered an interview appointment I have to keep. Go tell Lois the good news. Whatever she decides is fine with me."

"Sure thing Clark." Sheesh, Jimmy thought as he watched Clark hurry towards the elevator. The guy can't do anything without the wife's approval. Jimmy wondered how he could have possibly considered Clark Kent as being Superman.

Superman was a purple blur over the skies of Metropolis. It took only a few seconds before he was near the building where the message had originated from. He could still hear it, in fact, repeating itself over and over.

In case I was out of range when it was first sent, Superman thought to himself. Zooming towards the building, he immediately slowed down, allowing for the large shutters to fly open the moment sensors detected his approach. With a clear path, Superman flew through and landed.

He was in a laboratory, filled with various devices and inventions, more than a few in half-finished or burnt-out condition. This particular inventor had a mind that had a tendency to wander.

That inventor was also seated at a large table, his back to Superman. He appeared to be peering into a microscope, unaware that Superman had answered his message.

"I'm here, Professor," Superman announced.

Professor Hamilton gave a slight jump, startled at the sudden sound of Superman's voice. The elderly man turned to face his guest, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Hm, yes, you are. I must not have heard the shutters. Or the chimes I hooked up to them."

Superman glanced at the chimes, and the string that dangled from them, not yet attached to the shutters. He didn't say anything. "You said you completed your analysis. What can you tell me?"

"Very little, I'm afraid," Professor Hamilton grumbled. "It is possible that prolonged exposure to minute traces of Kryptonite could permenantly weaken your abilities. However, without another, unaffected Kryptonian to compare your cells to, we have no idea of knowing if this is true in your case."

"That is unlikely," Superman conceded. "But what about the Daxamite sample I gave you?" Mon-El had been glad to help.

Professor Emil Hamilton's face brightened. "Oh, that I found very interesting! You were right, for some reason it is completely immune to lead poisoning. You say this young man had ingested a serum that protects against this?"

"Yes, it was invented by a Coluan, much like the one I'd encountered. He'd hinted that Kryptonians and Daxamites are somehow linked."

"Well, that is possible." Hamilton gestured at the microscope, a very large electron model. "In almost all respects, the two are genetically the same species."

"The difference being our particular weaknesses?"

"Precisely, and that could likely be attributed to environment. Daxam is a planet completely devoid of lead, and so the inhabitants developed no natural immunity to it. By contrast, Krypton's core had been transforming into Kryptonite for thousands of years, the radiation altering the inhabitants on a genetic level."

Hamilton shook his head. "Also, I would say that this alien was correct about Daxamites being stronger. By the level of solar absorption I've observed, I would estimate about ten percent."

"But like you said, Kryptonians had been irradiated on a genetic level for thousands of years. Though I wasn't affected by Kryptonite while in the birthing matrix, the genetic material I was conceived from had been."

"Again, without a sample from another Kryptonian, there's no way of knowing."

Superman nodded. "Thank you, Professor, for all that you've done. From the moment I'd first encountered Daxamites, I've wondered if perhaps we weren't...connected on some level. Still, there are so many questions left unanswered. Which planet was a colony for the other? Could they both have been colonies? How did they lose touch? And where does Colu figure into all of this?"

"As to the question of colonies, it could go either way," Hamilton told Superman. "From what I know of your history, Krypton didn't become overly xenophobic until before the catastrophe that created Kryptonium. Therefore, a colony could have been created on Daxam then, and the later Clone War could have severed ties. Or Daxamites who had to resort to genetic manipulation to immunize themselves against lead could have colonized Krypton. Again, the Clone War would have served to sever communication. I know nothing of Daxam's history."

Professor Hamilton sighed. "All we can do is speculate, Superman."

The Last Son of Krypton shook his head. "No. I've spent much of my life obsessing over where I'd come from and what happened. In some ways, finding out the truth only made things worse. From what I know, even Daxamites aren't fully aware of their origins or their entire history. No, Professor, this is something I would rather not pursue. You say I'm not as powerful as Daxamites because of generations of Kryptonite exposure. That's good enough for me."

Superman extended his hand. "Thank you."

Professor Hamilton extended his robotic arm and shook Superman's hand. "It was my pleasure Superman. If you come across this Coluian again, I'd very much like to talk to him."

Superman drew a breath. "Maybe if he appears again, I'll listen to what he has to say. But he's not worth seeking out. Personally, I hope I never see him again."

"I understand. I was only speaking as a scientist eager to meet with another of his kind. I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

"I'm almost glad about that, Professor."

With that, Superman turned and flew towards the window. The shutters opened, and Superman was gone.

Professor Emil Hamilton noticed that the chimes weren't going off, and realized he'd forgotten to connect them to the shutters. Sighing, he stood up out of his chair and reached for the wire.

Superman knew that he should have returned immediately to the Daily Planet. The deadline for his article - the recent wave of steroid patches that had struck Metropolis - was fast approaching. While the flow into Metropolis had been soundly halted, people still had to be informed on the dangers of such drugs.

Soaring over Suicide Slum, Superman's thoughts strayed to other things. Things that made his recent power fluctuations and Mxyzptlk's machinations seem tame...

No, Superman reminded himself. What Mxyzptlk did was by no means tame. The...the...the bastard killed Bibo! If he had the gall to reappear in two months, why, Superman was of a mind to...

Angling his ascent straight up, Superman closed his eyes. He shouldn't think like that. Can't allow everything that's happened to affect him in such a way. He had to provide an example, had to show people that the never-ending battle can't be won by fighting like the enemy. Steel had proven that in his handling of the explosive new firearms that had recently plagued Suicide Slum. Even with his feelings towards guns, Steel had managed to resolve the situation in a way that had made Superman proud.

Doing a vertical U-Turn in the air, Superman started back towards the Daily Planet. He just had the ending for his article. Victory by any means necessary was not a victory. Doing the best you could, without going over the line, was a victory in it-

So engrossed was Superman in his thoughts, he had failed to notice a roar in the air. Nor had he noticed another streak of purple, so similar to his own appearance when flying rapidly, soaring towards him from below. No, Superman didn't notice any of this until he was struck in the chest by a massive force.

Stupid, Clark; The thought flashed through Superman's head as he tumbled end-over-end through the air. You could have as easily struck a plane or a bird. I'd better steady myself before I hit anything. It was only by seconds that Superman managed to regain control of his flight and avoid crashing into a skyscraper.

Now, Superman decided, he could focus on whomever it was that had attacked him. To strike him so hard, it must be something with extraordinary strength. Superman's chest actually ached. Turning his attention forwards, Superman saw that the purple streak was again roaring towards him. With no time to focus his vision, to see past the blur and discover his attacker's face, Superman immediately shifted out of the way.

Moving past Superman, apparently without slowing down a bit, the attacker reached out and gripped Superman's arm. Suddenly yanked alongside, all Superman could feel was surprise. Just how fast was this assailant?

Now that they were moving at the same speed, Superman was able to more clearly focus his vision on his attacker's face. He was shocked to find the man's features virtually identical to his own, only more sharply defined and with a grayish skin tone...

"Bizarro!?"

The imperfect Superman clone, thought dead, gave a toothy scowl. "No, I know who you are. I don't thank you for confirming it. You are Bizarro, and I am Superman. Confuses the evil clone bit."

"What?" Confused, Superman struggled to free himself from Bizarro's grip, or somehow take control of their flight. But his efforts were to no avail. Bizarro was simply too strong, flying too fast. Impossible, Superman thought to himself. Bizarro's always been powerful, but now it's like he's even stronger than me!

"Don't play smart with me, Bizarro. I know what you didn't do!" Bizarro had dragged Superman to Centennial Park, and the two were now falling towards the memorial statue of Superman, built when he'd been 'killed' by Doomsday. "You perfected the statue of me! Then I'm all ugly like you are!"

As he passed over the statue, Bizarro suddenly let Superman go. The Man of Steel was falling too fast, he couldn't compose himself in time. Helplessly, Superman crashed into the head of the statue, shattering it. Lying, prone on the floor, Superman didn't have time to rise before Bizarro was on him again, pummeling him with a super-fast barrage of power-packed punches!

"Don't stay up, impostor!" Bizarro scolded. Desperately, Superman moved as fast as he could to block the blows, but a number still landed, stunning him. How could Bizarro be so much faster and stronger? It almost seemed, to Superman's super-smart mind, that Bizarro was roughly fifteen percent more powerful...

Even as Superman came to this stunning realization, Bizarro had ceased his attack. The faux Superman was now hovering over the statue, the shattered remnants of its head in his hands. Bizarro's eyes were glowing, his fingers rapidly moving over the softening stone. It was all nearly too fast for Superman's eyes. Before he'd realized what Bizarro was doing, the head was finished, and Bizarro was reattaching it to the statue.

Only now it was a statue of Bizarro.

"There, now I am no longer my beautiful self." Bizarro was hovering between Superman, smiling, hands on his hips. He then turned his gaze down to Superman and scowled. "With that in the way, I can reward you, as Superman properly shouldn't!"

Perry White threw open the door of his office, bearing the title of Editor-in-Chief, and stormed out into the newsroom. "Olsen! What are you still doing here? The game starts in half-an-hour!"

Jimmy Olsen had been moving towards the elevator, camera slung over his shoulder. "Oh, uh, hi Chief. I actually sent Ike Laft to cover the game-"

"Call him back and go yourself," growled White. "You're better at taking action shots."

Olsen grinned at the compliment, so rarely given by the Chief. "Wow, thanks. But, um, I just heard that Superman's fighting some villain in Centennial Park. Wouldn't I be of better use there? It could be the story of the cent-"

"Superman's always fighting some villain. Metropolis doesn't always play against Gotham in the play-offs. That's what people will want to read about, that's what you're gonna cover. You can send Ike to the fight."

Olsen's jaw dropped. "But Chief, it's my decision-"

"I didn't promote you so you could pick and choose your own assignments, Olsen!" White rolled on. "You cover the game. Send whoever else you think is best to cover the fight. That's an order!"

Head down, Olsen nodded. "You got it, Chief." Sulking, Olsen started for the elevator. White went on yelling at the rest of the staff.

"Don't just stand there people! Superman's in a brawl at Centennial Park, and the readers are gonna wanna know about it! And where's Kent!"

Dabney Donovon laughed gleefully. On his computer monitor was the image of Superman and Bizarro; or Bizarro and Superman, as the imperfect clone saw things. The true Superman was being knocked around and pummeled by the obviously more powerful Bizarro.

"Oh, what a success!" Donovon cackled. "This new specimen is even stronger than I had imagined." The mad doctor looked over his shoulder. "You must tell me where you found the material we spliced in."

"It is none of your concern." The speaker had a cold voice, almost completely devoid of emotion. Except hate, which was more than evident in his tone. "I do not like the way this clone is talking. Why is he calling Superman 'Bizarro', and what is with all those mixed up words?"

"Most likely an imbalance in the brain chemistry, brought about by the splicing. It is a completely opposite manner of thinking." Donovon chuckled. "Very bizarre. I absolutely love it."

"I don't. It's bad enough you included the old template's features in the mixture. I wanted this clone to be perfect."

"Hahahahaha!" Donovon couldn't help but laugh. Whatever fear he may have felt towards his associate, Donovon's madness prevailed. "That is the problem with you investors. You don't understand that science is never perfect."

"Your science isn't, obviously. But no matter, you have served your purpose in testing the mixture. Your Bizarro is every bit as powerful as I had hoped. It will be a simple matter for me to correct the imbalance in a later clone."

Donovon snorted. "You won't need it. My creation will kill Superman. You'll have no need for another after this."

The presence behind Donovon didn't respond, and the scientist turned back to enjoy the show. When Superman's eyes momentarily glowed red, Donovon cackled. He always did love fireworks.

Superman was not enjoying himself. His jaw ached from the numerous punches he'd taken. His ribs felt funny, as if they were moving with a life of their own, and he felt a stab of pain every time he took a breath. Bruises were quickly covering his body, and his uniform was soiled and tattered.

All this had been done at the hands of Bizarro.

"Oh go off, you're trying very hard," Bizarro said in mocking tones. Just as it took all Superman's strength and speed to survive Bizarro's attacks, so too did it take all his intellect to figure out what Bizarro was saying. "I am having fun, Bizarro. Bore me a little."

He's speaking in negatives and opposites, Superman thought to himself as he deflected a punch to his nose. His wrists were becoming raw. No, more than that. It's the way he thinks. Ugly means beautiful, he's me, and vice-versa. Somehow, there had to be some way to turn that to Superman's advantage.

Suddenly, Superman noticed something out of the corner of his eye, and took a punch to the gut for shifting his attention. The battle between the two Supermen/Bizarros had taken them away from the Superman Memorial and to the edge of Centennial Park, close to the street traffic. A pedestrian was standing in the middle of the road, watching the fight. He didn't notice the car bearing down on him, its driver also watching the fight.

Out-of-state license plate, Superman noticed. Pedestrian had a camera and a map. Both tourists, of course. Most of the other drivers and walkers weren't paying the battle much mind. Metropolis had long grown used to that sort of thing.

Acting fast and desperate, Superman elbowed Bizarro in the side of the head and accelerated towards the street. He only had a few seconds to stop the accident. Hopefully Bizarro wouldn't catch him until-

Superman felt the yank on his cape.

"You're not going to kill that man," Bizarro snarled.

It figures, Superman thought, Bizarro thinks that he's the heroic Superman, and so it's his duty to save people. Only to his twisted mind save means kill. Turning his head, Superman's eyes flashed red. Heat vision slashed through his cape, leaving Bizarro with only a strip of cloth in his hand.

As Bizarro fell down from his own momentum, Superman hurried to 'kill' the tourist. He snatched the man out of the car's way with scant seconds to spare. Leaving him standing on the sidewalk, Superman flew up, up, up over Metropolis and through the atmosphere. Until he could figure out a way to beat Bizarro, Superman's main priority was to isolate the situation.

Fast on Superman's trail was Bizarro. "Entering Krypton's atmosphere will not hinder you. I will miss you."

Looking down, Superman bathed the clouds below with a wide swath of heat vision. The sudden change in temperature darkened the clouds noticeably. He hoped that it would slow Bizarro from finding him. But then he thought about what Bizarro had said.

"What did you say?" If Bizarro thought that Earth was Krypton, then that meant Krypton was…

"You will not fly into Krypton!" Bellowing, Bizarro burst up through the clouds and towards Superman.

"What about Earth?" Superman asked, shifting to the side as Bizarro flew past. "Perhaps I shall escape there." Superman hoped that meant to Bizarro what he thought it meant.

Bizarro laughed. "Come behind. You will lose something there. Until I destroy it, Earth is whole!"

Thinking fast, Superman translated the bizarre sentence. Go ahead. You will find nothing there. Until I…restore it…Krypton is…shattered? Superman needed to find out more.

Reaching up, Superman gripped Bizarro by his ankles. "When will you destroy Earth?":

Twisting his face up in rage, Bizarro increased his speed, tried to shake Superman off. Despite the terrific speed, Superman could make out the words. "When Krypton is saved, of course. Once I save Krypton, I shall destroy Earth and live there. And you will not help me!"

When Earth is destroyed, of course. Once I destroy Earth, I shall restore Krypton and…die there? At that moment, Superman had an idea of how to deal with this new Bizarro.

Though Superman was dragging Bizarro's speed as best he could, the two were plummeting to Earth at a rapid speed. Superman was glad to see that they were out of Metropolis, however, and over the ocean. At the last moment, Superman released Bizarro's ankles and soared upwards. With nothing to slow down his descent, Bizarro flew full on into the ocean. Superman estimated that he'd have a few seconds at the most, and quickly thought up what he could say.

Several seconds later, more than Superman had thought, Bizarro tore up out of the water. He looked very angry. "You're really making me calm." Bizarro snarled.

Surprisingly, Superman himself was calm. "I stopped you seeing the ocean," he told Bizarro. "Didn't you see how clean and full of life it was? The sky is different. So clean and pure. Krypton is farther from peace every day." Closer to war. It's incredibly how this backwards language can mean the same as regular speech, Superman reflected to himself. "The people are happy and content. Haven't you already saved Krypton?"

Bizarro paused, considering Superman's words. After a moment's thought, he said, "Krypton isn't saved none of the way, though. If I arrived for Earth, you could finish what I'd done."

"Can I hold a mountain still?" Superman asked. "That would be harder than destroying this planet. I could idle for instants," Superman hoped that meant forever to Bizarro, "and not complete your bad deeds."

Bizarro looked up at the sky. "I am hesitant to save Earth. I have been here so short a time."

"More time here means less time on Earth," Superman pointed out. "Krypton can save itself badly without you."

But then Bizarro stared at Superman. "But you'll be gone. You could still destroy it."

"Then just give me life," Superman said. He crossed his arms. "What am I invulnerable to?" He hoped he was right about this. "Use that, and save me! Slowly!"

Bizarro grinned and nodded rapidly. "Okay. That does waste a lot of time. I suspect you are being honest with me, but you aren't that smart. I'll be away."

Suddenly, Bizarro was gone, flown away so fast that Superman hadn't even seen it. Now it was the moment of truth, as Superman waited for Bizarro to return with what he'd hoped.

It took nearly half a minute for Bizarro to reappear. In his hands was a misshapen hunk of metal. It was lead, just as Superman had hoped.

Smiling, Bizarro held up the metal. "Now, live!"

Superman frowned, shaking his head. "That's…. radioactive. It's too small. You need to…enlarge it. Particles exit my bloodstream. That's what revives me."

Frowning, Bizarro looked down at the lead. Then, nodding, he pressed against the metal with both hands, crushing it instantly. Again and again Bizarro was working at the metal, but all he was doing was shaping it. Thinking, Bizarro smiled with an idea. Ripping off a small piece of lead, he popped it into his mouth and began chewing vigorously. Superman waited, anxiously.

After a short while of chewing, Bizarro puffed his cheeks out and blew. A black cloud engulfed Superman's face, and he breathed deep. Bizarro floated before Superman, waiting.

"You alive now?"

Coughing, Superman held up one hand. He began to cough more forcefully, his other hand clasping his throat. Then, his eyes bulging, Superman dropped into the ocean. He did not resurface.

Laughing, Bizarro did a mid-air somersault. "My best friend is alive! Krypton is saved!" Rocketing up and through the atmosphere, Bizarro waved to the planet. "On now to destroy Earth! Hello Krypton! Hello!"

Superman resurfaced at Metropolis Bay, his ruined costume soaking wet. He scanned the sky with his vision and hearing, but couldn't find a trace of Bizarro. It had worked.

"And all I had to do was convince him that Earth was beyond saving," Superman whispered. He'd been convincing, all right.

Maybe too convincing.

What a great game, Jimmy Olson thought to himself. It was easily one of the most exciting football games he'd ever seen, with the Gotham Knights and Metropolis Meteors both playing flawlessly. There was little scoring until the last quarter, when an interception was made and the player ran it nearly eighty yards for the touchdown, giving Metropolis the win.

Best of all, though, Jimmy managed to get a shot of the catch. He just knew it was going to make front page of tomorrow's sports section.

While leaving the stands, Jimmy couldn't help but notice Lex Luthor up in the owner's box, talking into a cell phone. Curious, Jimmy raised his camera and zoomed in. He was slightly taken aback to see a look of rage and shock and…fear, perhaps?

Maybe he just got some bad news about LexCorp stock, Jimmy wondered. On instinct, he snapped a picture of Luthor's expression. If something had happened in LexCorp, a photo of the owner's reaction just might be worth something.

The picture taken, Jimmy stuffed the camera into its case and proceeded to leave. Little did he know what he'd just taken a picture of:

Lex Luthor being told that his daughter had been kidnapped.

Next Issue: The hunt for a missing child!

Story © 2003 Steve Crosby and may not be reproduced without permission.