E8: Superman #5

[Spider-Man Beyond]

E8: Superman #5
Who is Superman?

Written by Russell Burlingame (Borntorun)
Edited by Daniel Dyer (Spider-Man Beyond)

FROM: [e-mail]
TO: [e-mail]
BCC: [e-mail], [e-mail], [e-mail], [e-mail], [e-mail], [e-mail]

SUBJECT: Re: Re: Re: Re: Project El Follow-Up.

Pretty Lady,

None of this started at the engine, of course. I mean, an idiot could tell that there was already something going on when “our story” began.

It started where you would expect Superman's story to start—in Metropolis. Actually, it really started years and years and years ago on Krypton when some crazy bastard thought it would be a clever idea to blast his kid off into outer space, but that's something of a tangent that I shouldn't entertain today.

Anyway, the leg of the journey that involved Project El directly? That part started in Metropolis. It started, really, when the Doomsday monster—which from what I hear through the grapevine ALSO started on Krypton—came tearing through the place and everyone with half a brain knew there was only one guy could stop the bugger.

Superman.

The real one, not this kid. Big Blue blasted through the streets of the city, fighting the nasty bugger the whole way. We all know what happened, of course, or at least those of us who own televisions. It's been played over and over again in the months since it happened--”for this is the day that a Superman has died,” said some newscaster and it's been replayed endlessly ever since. It’s a hell of a way for you to put your voice in the history books (such as they are anymore).

What the history books won't cover—at least, the chances of it getting covered fully and accurately are very small—is that shortly after his death, the Man of Steel was kidnapped by a shady government agency (Oh Lord, oh Lord, who would do such a thing?). With a little help from our old friend, Lex Luthor, whose company built the crypt that Superman was being kept in, we managed to sneak in and out without the hundreds of mourners outside of the place being any the wiser. The body was borrowed, we mined enough genetic information from it for what we figure will be a good long time's worth of scientific research, and we popped it into a place called the Phantom Zone. The idea there is that time stands still and so we won't have to worry about the body degrading any further between now and when we develop the technology to break the skin and actually clone the sucker.

What's good enough, for now anyway, is the Superman we've got. Dear old Project El is the byproduct of a 'round-the-clock effort on the part of hundreds of highly-paid scientists. They couldn't clone the real Superman, but what they could do was approximate the electromagnetic “aura” which gives him his invulnerability. With a little tweaking, it seems to have provided our young Superman with some additional powers as well, largely because we mutated his cells in order to make him more “super”. The aura that used to hover about a millimeter out from old Kal-El's skin is part of the biological makeup of the closest thing we'll ever see to a Superman Junior. At least in my lifetime or yours.

Of course, one problem with taking epithelial samples from a Kryptonian is that skin cells don't scrape off so easy like you'd want. So we used his “aura” or whatever to make the clone impervious to bullets and fire and stuff, but we hadda get the rest of his makeup from a variety of sources. I fancied the idea of being Super myself, so I volunteered—but my people were indebted to Luthor, so he pulled some strings and it turned out to be him instead.

At least, that's what he thinks.

I'm really not crazy about the guy, you see. I think he's a bad seed. So there are some friends of mine—kids who work under me—who I brought in as donors instead. It's kind of a long story and I don't know for sure that it worked. There are four of these punks floating around the office and so far, in fighting the Cyborg who slagged a bunch of the West Coast, the Super-Boy has only demonstrated powers that seem like they come from one of them. Well, one of them and the tactile telekinesis. Somehow that seems to have worked its way in... even I'm not sure where that could have come from.

I need to know what happened with the whole process, and of course our new Superman escaped before I could fully analyze him. We need him back, and that's where you come in. I need you to let me know what tools you're going to want for this by the end of the day tomorrow. I need the super-clone back in my office by Friday for further testing, so that we can falsify documents if needed to make Luthor believe things were done the way he wanted.

Information regarding the Project El is on a need-to-know basis. Do not share any of the information contained in this message with anyone without first obtaining clearance from myself or the director.

I.M.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

344 Clinton St
Apartment 3B
Metropolis

Dear Mr. & Mrs. Kent,

I'm sorry that I still haven't found my way clear to calling you “Ma” and “Pa.” I know that you went through a lot and really feel like I should have that level of comfort with you... but I'm not him. I'm really sorry that I'm not.

But having spent some time with Linda, I did decide something that I think will make you happy. I'm going to take the job.

Sorry to be so... abstract... about things. I just don't know who's reading my mail. People from where I come from, maybe? I don't know. I hope that this letter finds you in good health.

I want to thank you for everything you guys did for me. Those two months at your farm was really invaluable to clearing my head and getting my priorities straight, but it wasn't until I got out there and did what your son used to do, that I really realized how important it is... and what the responsibility is that I earned just by being part of your family—part of him. Being surrounded by his things in the apartment has really driven home how much like him I am in my mind. I can hear myself thinking in the kinds of sentences that he would construct in his writing (and I've read it all. As fast as I could, I worked through every article and every book in this place). I want to know more about Clark, and I look forward to spending the holidays with you. John and Linda will come with me for a big Easter dinner next month. We have a friend who can, er, give us a ride. His name is Marcus. You've probably seen him on the television, as he's a bit of a glory-hound.

Speaking of EGO, you have to meet my new friend, Michael. He owns a restaurant, is a bit strange, and very full of himself. One of those guys who used to play football in college and still thinks he's a big deal. But ultimately he's a good man and a good friend. He gave me a job until I can find something better, so I'm washing dishes at—get this—The Planet Krypton restaurant. I know you've got a whole “Superman” scrapbook, Martha, so I've included a Planet Krypton menu that you can paste in there with Superman's and Michael's pictures on the front of it. Maybe I'll see if he can join us too, if that's okay with you. I don't want to make you cook for the whole county. Michael was friends with Clark, though. I didn't think of it until now, but I guess it's possible you already met him. Give me a ring sometime and we'll talk about the dinner.

I got accepted at Gotham University for summer classes starting up in May, but currently don't have a major. Obviously the obvious choice is to try my hand at reporting, but having too much in common with Clark just seems like it would be weird. The Lane woman has called me a number of times and, while I know you guys want me to, I can't bring myself to return her calls. I feel like I would just hurt her.

I know you probably heard all about the California thing. I promise we were taking care. Linda was watching my back and I couldn't have done it without her. John was absolutely indispensible. I can't help but feel like if he'd been around before Doomsday, he would have found a way to rescue Clark, and I wouldn't even be here.

God, that's a morbid thought. When you guys get tired of my social ineptitude, just go ahead and let me know.

I've met a lady reporter that I like, myself! Coming back to town from California, she stopped me to talk about what I'd seen out West. I'm taking her out to dinner tonight. Her name is Tana—if you have Internet access you can see her picture online at metropolis.gbs.com/contributors/ID=moon#118&_Tana_GBSTV.asp

I'll write again soon. I miss you badly.

Love,
Kon

PS – I know it's a lot to ask, but if you can find the time, I'd love if you would send me those extra underwear you promised.

End.