The sun blazed down on Chicago, casting long shadows across the streets. Outside a crowded movie theater, a young man stepped into the light, his face lit with uncontainable excitement.
Brian O'Conner adjusted his Superman T-shirt, grinning ear to ear.
"That Superman movie was awesome," he said aloud, still buzzing. "Gunn really gets the character. And Cornsweat? Perfect."
He started down the street, humming the theme as he waited at the crosswalk. The light changed, and he stepped out with the rest of the crowd, lost in the glow of a story that had meant so much to him for as long as he could remember.
Then a sharp cry cut through the noise of the city.
"Sarah! Come back!"
Brian spun toward the sound. A little girl stood frozen in the middle of the street, clutching a stuffed bear. A delivery truck barreled down the road toward her, horn blaring, tires screaming.
Time seemed to slow.
Brian's gaze flicked from the truck to the girl, then down to the bold red "S" stretched across his chest.
"Superman would save her even if it killed him."
He didn't hesitate.
Brian sprinted into the street, shoving the girl with all his strength. She stumbled back to safety, teddy bear clutched tight. Relief flickered in his chest then the world went white as the truck struck him.
The impact stole his breath. As he fell, his thoughts unraveled into flashes of memory.
His parents' car crash.
The cold walls of the orphanage.
The sting of fists and cruel words.
Nights spent alone, clinging to cartoons and the bright colors, the soaring music, Superman standing tall no matter what.
That hero had been his light in the dark. The reason he kept believing there was good in the world, even when his own life seemed to prove otherwise.
"I tried to live like him. I wanted to be him. But I'm just… ordinary. I hope that little lives a better life then me."
The pavement rushed up to meet him. His body was broken, but his heart clung to a final, desperate thought:
"I wish I was Superman. I wish I could bring hope to people the way he brought hope to me."
And before Brian's body touched the ground, before his last breath left him something heard.
Something listened.
And someone decided.
Timeskip
The world came back in fragments.
Brian's eyes snapped open to a blinding shaft of morning light spilling through half-closed blinds. He blinked, disoriented, and pushed himself upright in a bed that wasn't his.
"Where… where am I?" His voice was hoarse. "What happened?"
Memories rushed in of the truck, the girl, the pain. His chest tightened, and he stumbled to his feet.
"Was it… was it a dream?"
He rubbed his temples, but something felt wrong. His body was different with his muscles tense, his skin buzzing with energy. Taller. Stronger.
Brian staggered toward a mirror hanging crooked on the wall and froze.
Staring back at him wasn't Brian O'Conner.
It was Superman.
The black hair, the sharp jaw, the piercing blue eyes. The face he'd seen a thousand times in comics, cartoons, movies… only now, it was his.
"No way…" His breath caught in his throat. "I look like… Superman."
A sudden spike of pain drove him to his knees. Images tore through his mind like lightning with memories that weren't his. Names, places, a life unfolding in flashes. When it finally stopped, he was left gasping, gripping the edge of the bed.
And then, slowly, a smile crept across his face.
"I'm Superman."
A laugh bubbled up from his chest that was disbelieving and joyous. He rose into the air without thinking, his feet leaving the ground. He hovered, bumping into the ceiling fan, spinning clumsily across the room. His laughter filled the tiny apartment.
After a few dizzy laps, he collapsed back onto the bed, catching his breath.
"Okay… focus."
The memories were clearer now. A life where his parents were alive. A move to Los Angeles. A job lined up at… the Daily Planet? That wasn't supposed to exist here in Los Angeles and it's not even in the DC universe.
He grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV.
A reporter's voice filled the room:
"Breaking news Tony Stark has been found alive. In a press conference this morning, Stark announced Stark Industries will immediately shut down its weapons division."
Brian no, Clark nearly dropped the remote.
"Marvel," he whispered. "I'm in the Marvel Universe."
His X-ray vision sparked to life, and the walls peeled away like paper. Beyond the skyline of Los Angeles, he caught glimpses of buildings he recognized only from comics like LexCorp Tower, S.T.A.R. Labs, and, impossibly, the globe-topped Daily Planet.
"What kind of world is this…?"
He glanced at the clock. His stomach flipped. Thirty minutes until his first shift at the Planet.
He scrambled for his clothes, pulling on a button-up and slacks. Halfway through, he froze.
"…Wait. I have super speed."
In a blur, he dressed, combed his hair, and found himself at the door with minutes to spare. On the nightstand, a simple pair of glasses waited.
He slid them on, the final piece of a new identity.
Brian O'Conner was gone.
Clark Kent walked out into the morning sun.
Timeskip
Clark walked out of the elevator into chaos. Phones rang, printers hummed, and the clatter of keyboards filled the air. Reporters darted around like they were chasing the end of the world, and Clark stood there, taking it all in with a boyish grin.
This is it. The Daily Planet. I'm really here.
He spotted the door with "Perry White – Editor-in-Chief" stenciled across the frosted glass. Taking a steadying breath, he knocked.
"Come in," a gruff voice barked.
Clark pushed the door open. Behind the desk sat Perry White, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, cigarette in hand. His sharp eyes sized Clark up in one glance.
"You Kent?"
Clark adjusted his glasses and nodded. "Yes, sir. Clark Kent. From Smallville, Kansas."
Perry leaned back, unimpressed. "Smallville, huh? Sounds like the kind of place where news is somebody's prize pig winning a ribbon."
Clark chuckled nervously. "We, uh… did have a few stories like that."
Perry waved him closer. "Well, this ain't Kansas anymore. This is the Daily Planet the best damn newspaper in the country. You want to make it here, Kent, you better be ready to chase stories that matter."
"Yes, sir. I'm ready to work hard."
Perry tapped ash into a tray, then leaned forward. "Good. 'Cause your first assignment isn't some puff piece. I want you on Lex Luthor."
Clark blinked. "Lex Luthor? As in… the billionaire?"
"The same. Philanthropist, businessman, humanitarian at least, that's the mask he shows the world. I don't buy it. No one builds an empire that big without burying a few skeletons along the way. I want you to dig, Kent. Find me the cracks."
Clark swallowed, his mind spinning. Lex Luthor in Marvel too? What kind of world is this…?
Before he could answer, the office door swung open without a knock.
"Perry, I just got back from the Stark press conference…."
Clark turned, and there she was. Lois Lane. Sharp suit, notepad in hand, eyes that blazed with determination. She stopped mid-sentence, giving Clark a quick once-over.
"And who's this? New farm boy?"
Clark straightened awkwardly. "Clark Kent. Nice to meet you, Miss Lane."
Lois smirked. "Cute. Another rookie. Try not to get in my way." She brushed past him, dropping her notes on Perry's desk.
Perry groaned. "Lane, you've got enough on your plate. Let Kent handle Luthor."
Lois raised a brow. "The rookie? Perry, Luthor eats rookies for breakfast."
Clark opened his mouth, but stopped himself. Instead, he smiled politely, even as a thought stirred in the back of his head.
"So this is Lois Lane. I get the appeal, but… honestly? I never understood it. I always thought Superman and Wonder Woman made more sense. Guess I'll find out what all the fuss is about."
Perry slammed his fist on the desk. "Enough yappin'. Lane, Stark's yours. Kent, Luthor's yours. Now both of you out! News doesn't write itself!"
Lois rolled her eyes and stormed out. Clark gave Perry a grateful nod before following her into the bullpen.
Clark followed Lois out into the bullpen, trying not to trip over the tangle of phone cords and stacks of paper that seemed to cover every flat surface. Reporters shouted across the room, typewriters clacked like machine guns, and the whole place pulsed with urgency.
Perry's voice bellowed behind them, "And somebody get me coffee before I start writing the headlines myself!"
Lois stopped at her desk, which was cluttered with notes and half-empty coffee cups. She dropped her bag with a thud and sat, already scribbling something down. Clark glanced around until he saw the desk next to hers which is his desk.
Taking a breath, he set his bag down and lowered himself into the chair, adjusting his glasses nervously.
"Guess we're neighbors," Lois said dryly, not even looking up. "Try not to bother me."
Clark opened his mouth, closed it again, then tried a polite smile. "I'll, uh… do my best."
A camera shutter clicked. Clark turned and found a young man with a camera slung around his neck, grinning like he'd just made a new friend.
"Jimmy Olsen," he said, offering a hand. "Photographer. You're the new guy, right?"
Clark shook his hand carefully, remembering to hold back his strength. "Clark Kent. From Smallville."
"Smallville?" Jimmy chuckled. "Wow, Perry wasn't kidding. Do they even have Wi-Fi out there?"
Clark laughed softly. "Not… really. But we had sunsets."
Jimmy's grin widened. "I like this guy already."
Lois rolled her eyes, finally glancing up. "Oh please. Another wide-eyed rookie who thinks journalism is about chasing rainbows and writing about sunsets. Newsflash: this job will chew you up and spit you out."
Clark shifted uncomfortably but kept his voice even. "Maybe. But… I think it's still worth trying. People need hope."
Jimmy raised his brows, impressed. "Deep. I like that."
Lois groaned. "Great. Another idealist. Just what we needed."
Clark ducked his head, pretending to focus on unpacking his bag. Inside, though, he felt Brian's old shyness pressing against his chest. "I was never good at this… talking to people. Maybe Clark Kent isn't much of an act after all."
Before the awkwardness could grow, the newsroom TVs flickered, and a breaking news alert cut through the noise.
"This just in air traffic control has lost contact with Flight 237 en route to Los Angeles International Airport. The plane is experiencing engine failure and is losing altitude rapidly. Emergency crews are being dispatched….."
The room fell silent, reporters frozen as the anchor's voice continued.
Clark's eyes widened. "A plane… here, in LA. If it crashes…"
Lois muttered, already grabbing her bag. "I'll take this. Front page, guaranteed."
Jimmy swung his camera up. "I'm coming with you…"
But Clark was no longer listening. His heart pounded. Every instinct screamed at him.
This is it. My first chance. Superman wouldn't hesitate.
He pushed his chair back and stood.
"Uh, I-I need to step out," Clark stammered, fumbling with his tie. "Not feeling well."
Lois barely glanced at him. "Figures. First day and you're already running off."
But Jimmy frowned. "Hey, you okay, Clark?"
Clark forced a sheepish smile. "Yeah. Just… nerves. Be right back."
He hurried toward the stairwell, each step quickening, his hands tugging at his collar.
The newsroom buzz returned behind him, but Clark's thoughts drowned it out.
"This is what I wished for. Time to stop hiding. Time to be Superman."
Timeskip
Clark shoved open the heavy door to the stairwell and burst into the alley behind the Planet, his heart hammering in his chest. His breath came in short, panicked gasps.
"What am I doing? A plane? That's not saving a cat from a tree, that's hundreds of lives depending on me not screwing up."
He tugged at his tie, fingers trembling, ready to rip it open the way Superman always did. The fabric stretched, buttons pulling and then he froze.
"Oh… right." He looked down at his plain button-up. "I don't even have the suit."
For a beat, he just stood there, paralyzed. The sound of the city rushed in with car horns, sirens, the distant scream of engines above. His knees shook.
"What if I can't? What if I mess this up? They'll all die because I thought I could be Superman."
His chest tightened. Fear clawed at him, threatening to hold him in place.
And then, through the panic, a memory rose. Not from this life, but from all the nights Brian had sat alone, clutching to the only hero who ever gave him hope.
"Being a hero doesn't mean you're invincible. It just means you're brave enough to stand up and try."
Clark closed his eyes. His breathing steadied.
"Right," he whispered. "Superman never let fear stop him. So neither will I."
He looked around, desperate. Across the alley, a small clothing store displayed mannequins in the window with hoodies, jackets, pants. Clark darted over, yanked the door open, and in a blur of motion that no one could see, he grabbed a dark hoodie, a jacket, and loose pants.
Moments later, he pulled the hood over his head, tugged the hat low to shadow his face, and zipped up the jacket. Not the bright colors, not the cape but it would have to do.
He took one last deep breath, the weight of the choice pressing down on him.
Then he bent his knees, looked skyward, and launched into the air.
The ground cracked under his feet as he rocketed upward, the city shrinking beneath him. The wind whipped against his face, his stomach lurching at the speed. Terror and exhilaration tangled in his chest, but he didn't stop.
Because somewhere above, a plane full of innocent lives was counting on him.
And for the first time, Clark Kent wasn't just wishing he could be Superman.
He was.
Timeskip
The jetliner screamed through the sky, its left engine coughing black smoke. Passengers cried out, oxygen masks dangling from the ceiling, the cabin shuddering violently. Ahead, the Golden Gate Bridge loomed closer and closer.
On the ground, traffic screeched to a halt. Phones pointed skyward. People screamed.
And then, from above, a blur cut through the clouds.
Clark.
His hoodie whipped in the wind, the fabric straining as he pushed faster than he'd ever moved before. The sight of the massive plane made his stomach lurch.
It's huge. Bigger than anything I've ever imagined stopping. What if I can't hold it? What if I make it worse?
The plane dipped lower, alarms blaring.
Clark clenched his jaw. "No. Remember the words."
"Being a hero doesn't mean you're invincible," he whispered to himself, voice trembling. "It just means you're brave enough to stand up and try."
He shot forward, streaking ahead of the plane. His hands pressed against the nosecone, the metal groaning beneath the force.
For an instant, nothing happened. The weight crushed against him, his arms screaming, the engines roaring like thunder in his ears. His legs kicked uselessly in midair.
It's too much. I can't…..
He squeezed his eyes shut. Try.
With a roar, Clark pushed harder. The plane shuddered, its descent slowing, its nose lifting just feet before it would have plowed into the Golden Gate's cables. Cars swerved and honked below as the massive shadow passed over.
The crowd erupted in gasps and cheers. Dozens of phones captured the hooded figure straining against the jet.
With one final surge, Clark guided the plane upward, straining every fiber of his new body until, at last, he angled it toward an open stretch of water. The landing gear scraped the bay with a hiss of steam, and the massive craft skidded to a stop just short of the shoreline.
The world fell silent for a beat. Then the passengers' muffled cries turned into cheers. On the bridge, hundreds of voices shouted in disbelief and awe.
Clark hovered back, chest heaving, his arms shaking. Sweat beaded on his forehead. "I did it. I actually did it."
But two men watched from very different vantage points.
On a sleek S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier hovering miles away, Director Nick Fury lowered his binoculars. His one eye narrowed.
"Well, well," Fury muttered. "That's new. A flying brick in a hoodie saving planes? Get me everything on him. Now."
Across the city, in the penthouse of LexCorp's West Coast tower, another bald head turned from the glass window. Lex Luthor swirled a glass of brandy, his lips curling into a cold smile.
"Interesting…" he murmured. "I thought this world belonged to me. But it seems there's another player on the board."
Back in the sky, Clark hovered uncertainly, looking at the stunned faces below. His heart pounded. His hood flapped in the wind.
For the first time in his two lives he wasn't just a fan of Superman.
He was the reason people were cheering.
And it terrified him.
And thrilled him.