Not the same
by Dru



It was a dawn much like any other on a midsummer day in Metropolis. The sun
breached, the pre-dawn glow turned pink and blossomed into a blue sky. Clark
Kent watched the whole thing from the beach, drinking in details that other
people missed with his extraordinary eyes. Smiling, his soul warmed by the
Earth's source of life, he turned his back to it and walked leisurely up the
beach to climb the stairs and return to the city. His mind was at ease...he
had no idea what was waiting for him at work.

The Daily Planet building was only a block-and-a-half from Goldland Beach, and
Clark was soon dipping his hat to the doorman.

"Good morning, Mister Kent."

"Good morning, Tom. How are the kids?"

"Just fine, Mister Kent." Without loosing eye contact, old Tom smoothly opened
the door to let Clark into the lobby.

"Good to hear. You have yourself a good day now, okay?"

"I'm already working on it."

As usual, he rode the elevator alone. It would be half an hour before anyone
else showed up. Metropolis Now FM was tuned in somewhere, coming softly from
the speakers. The DJ was busy endorsing a new restaurant, so Clark didn't get
to hear any music.

Being a top investigative reporter had not given Clark the keys to his own
office. He was on the floor, with a gossip columnist to the left and a
sportswriter to the right of his cubicle. If he pushed Perry hard enough,
Clark could get a private room to work in. But he enjoyed just being one of
the gang. That was the whole idea of being here after all...to blend in with
the crowd.

Usually the room was empty this time of day. But this morning there was a
small group of men inside, waiting silently outside the door to Perry's
office.

Playing his role as humble Clark Kent, the timid reporter walked to his
cubicle and opened his case on the small desk. The whole time Superman was
checking the group of strangers out with his super-senses. They weren't
carrying guns, which was strange in a city as violent as Metropolis had
become. The thing that concerned him most of all was the fact that his X-ray
eyes could not penetrate the lining of a briefcase one of them held. He
decided a trip to the bathroom was in order. Protecting his identity as Clark
Kent had been his greatest concern since childhood.

Moving toward the bathroom door, the chances making a safe change were
dramatically reduced.

"Hey guy!"

"Yea?"

The group approached quickly.

"You might be able to help us out."

"Sure...uh, how?"

"We're looking for someone. We have something that needs to be returned to
him." Finishing his sentence, the apparent leader of the group tapped the man
with the briefcase.

As the open case was lifted and popped, Clark felt the effects of the
kryptonite it contained. The four men smiled as Superman stumbled backward,
his body bent and his head down. This dag reporter had to be their man.

"Strap it on him and let's go."

When Superman woke, he was stripped of his disguise and strapped on a cold
steel table. Looming above him was a large crudely constructed device, about
the size of a phone-booth. The mechanism looked vaguely familiar.

"Hello, sleepy."

Superman turned his head to see another table six feet away, identical to the
one on which he lay. Except the occupant of the other table wasn't strapped
down. She was sitting up with legs over the side, watching him.

He tried to say, "Free me," but only managed a feeble murmur.

"Don't worry, I'll free you, Clark. Soon you won't have to pretend that you
have no super-powers."

Swinging her dangling legs up onto the table, the woman propped herself up on
an elbow to look at him again.

"I guess you're wondering why you're here. I know you don't remember me, but
you busted my father last year for racketeering. Nowadays he takes magazines
from to cell to cell up at the state pen. Did you know Lex Luther's up there
too?"

Superman was so weakened by the Kryptonite that he couldn't answer.

"Anyway, they got talking and realised that your name came up an awful lot in
their conversations. Turns out that they both have a problem with you
existing. So they did some research together. Remember how you took care of
those three rogues? That machine that makes you Kryptonians normal? Well Lex
is a very smart man. He sent people to your fortress of Solitude, and he got
the plans for that thing. And there it is!"

The young woman indicated the device above Superman.

"Except someone changed the plan along the way. Me. When we were building the
thing, we realised that it possible to not just strip you of your powers, but
to transfer them to someone else." Enjoying the look of horror Superman gave
her, she continued. "Of course my dad would never approve of what I'm going to
do. He would want this for himself. But he's not here...is he?"

She waved her hand at someone Superman couldn't see, and the machine buzzed
into life. It rattled and wound up into a fierce metallic hum before shooting
out a red beam. It hit his forehead, and a particle stream formed between
Superman and the noisy device. The chamber system he had been subjected to
previouslyhad certainly nauseated him, but the equipment being used now was
far more painful in its approach. While the Kryptonian device gently enveloped
the body, the mobster version was more direct. It drilled into him, and worked
from the inside out. He quickly lost consciousness as the red glow spread over
his body.

When the beam stopped, a lever was pulled and the machine moved sideways on
its makeshift rails to stop over the woman, who had her eyes firmly closed and
her hands tensed on the edge of the table. The beam flashed onto her exposed
abdomen, and the particle stream began to work on her fully tensed body. She
screamed and passed out while the glow of the beam spread.

The two technicians stared in fascination as the machine did its work. They
weren't sure this process wouldn't kill her, but they were sure her father's
thugs would kill the pair of them if it did. They sweated it out until
finally, running on the energy it had stolen from Superman, the beam cut out.

"Go check her."

"You go fucking check her."

The first to speak rose slowly, and opened the door into the sealed room.
Entering and shutting the door behind him, the overpaid technician took
several cautious steps to the table. Glancing at Superman, he saw his chest
rise and fall. Looking at his boss, he felt a bit of a chill as he realised
her chest wasn't moving at all. He held a hand above her mouth, but felt no
movement of air.

"She's not breathing."

"Check her pulse!" his co-worker impatiently snapped back.

Taking a hold of her wrist, the technician felt around for a pulse, but
couldn't find it.

"Get in here! I think she's d..."

Her wrist was suddenly pulled out of his grasp.

"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?"

"But...I was making sure you were still alive. You weren't breathing."

"Well I'm fine so get the hell away from me." Giving him a little shove, the
mobsters daughter discovered that the experiment had been a complete success.
The man flew into the wall so hard and fast that there was no need to check
his pulse to know he was dead. The blood pooling out from underneath his
crumpled, awkward, form was evidence enough.

"Oh my." Raising the hand she had used, she looked it over. Her eyes wandered
down her arm as she rose smoothly and swang her legs over the edge. Running
her hands over her body she began to sense the power she now possessed. Her
eyes went wide as her fingers imbedded into the steel table as though it were
dough. "First things first." She declared, standing up on the table and
reaching for the device.

"No!" the technician cried, concerned by what she was about to do more than he
had been for his friend.

"I don't want anyone using this thing on me," she explained. Grasping the
large barrel of the device she crushed it in her grip before tearing in two
different directions. Closing a hand on the main support she squeezed it until
the whole thing dropped to her feet. Giving it a good kick she was rewarded
with an explosion so violent it shattered the glass divider and exposed the
control room. The machinery had disintegrated, but the woman had to do a lot
more than destroy the prototype.

The technician was hypnotised by the power his gorgeous boss now possessed.
Her clothes had sagged on her before, but now her breasts threatened to tear
through the seams. He felt a chill as he realised she was watching him.

"You're a very smart man, Tony. You've given me Superman's strength." She
hopped off the table, landing softly on the cement. "I wonder if I have all
his powers." She breathed in long and deep, ruffling Tony's hair and
scattering his already messed up paperwork, then puckered her lips and began
to blow. Tony's hair ruffled the other way, then he was lifted up and slammed
into the wall behind him and held there, chair and all as the force increased
to a tremendous level. There was creaking sound, the leg of the control
console was bending, then there was loud crack as the cheap bolts broke.
Tony's wide eyes watched the large console grow larger until it crushed him,
making a hole in the concrete wall.

Closing her lips and smiling, the woman looked around at the room. It looked
like a tornado had been through it. A sense of power overwhelmed her, arousing
in its intensity, and her hands roamed her body. Unfortunately her clothes
were still just normal clothes, and her massaging hands tore through them as
through they were rice paper.

From within her rolling hills of pleasure, the deadliest person on Earth
heard footsteps. She was startled by how loud they become a moment later when
she concentrated on the sound, trying to gauge the distance. They sounded like
they were in the same room with her, but she knew she was alone...except for
the comatose Clark Kent. When she stopped concentrating on them, they faded.
She shook her head back and laughed. "I have got all Superman's powers."

Staring at the wall, she stepped back as it loomed in front of her. Her new
ability to zoom in her vision took a moment to adjust to. Focusing on the
sound of the footsteps, she stared in that general direction. The wall
vanished, making her smile confidently. The next wall faded, and the next,
until she found the source. A man walking along the footpath, passing the
warehouse on the far side of the street. Astounded by the power of her senses
she returned her attention to the immediate surroundings.

Focusing on a spider that scurried up the wall, she couldn't help but recoil
as it grew to fill her vision. Its head was hideous, but the overall design of
the arachnid was beautiful. A blink of her deep blues flashed her vision back
to normal. She looked at the spider again, squinting and biting her lip. It
took a moment, but she stumbled across her mental trigger. The spider
disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving only an imprint where the wall had
been scorched less by the intense blast of heat.

"This is better than I ever dreamed," she declared, stretching her powerful
body.

Clark stirred. He let out a low moan as consciousness sluggishly returned to
him. His synapses were not super-charged as they been just moments ago.
Opening his eyes, he looked around in confusion. The kryptonite on his chest
still glowed, but its effects had been greatly reduced. Struggling with the
steel bands holding him down on the table he found them too strong. He
realised a moment later that he was as good as human now.

"Having trouble, Clark?"

He turned to look for the source of the question, and felt a chill as he saw
the woman. She walked slowly over, looking at him thoughtfully.

"Let me help." Hooking a finger under one of the steeling bands, she jerked
her arm back at the shoulder and snapped the cold steel as though it were
Styrofoam. Clearly startled by the ease of it, she removed each of the
remaining three with a flick of her wrist.

Clark was staring at her in open-mouthed horror. To do what she just did
required Kryptonian levels of strength. What amazed him more was the fact that
the kryptonite around his neck didn't seem to be affecting her. Yet he could
tell that it wasn't hurting him anymore. So whatever it was within him that
caused his extreme reaction to pieces of his home world had gone with his
superpowers.

"What's wrong, Clark? Do you miss being Superman already?"

"Who are you?"

"My name is Emily. Yours is Clark, right?" she held out her hand, but he was
smart enough not to shake it.

"You have no idea what you're doing, Emily. Those powers need to be controlled
sensibly."

"Clark, do you have any idea how good it feels to have your powers? If you're
thinking about taking them back forget it! It's out of your hands now.
Superman is dead, Mr. Kent." While she spoke Clark slyly unclasped the
kryptonite from around his neck. "You're nothing but a reporter now...though I
think you'll have to work harder to get your stories."

She looked away a moment, and Clark grabbed the green stone and thrust down
the remained of her shirt. He knew it the direct contact of the kryptonite
against her skin would do something. He hoped it would be enough to let him
escape.

Emily was amused at first. Then she felt pain as the kryptonite against her
skin reacted with her new molecular structure. Her muscles cramped, tensing
with millions of tons of pressure.

Superman wasted no time. If she screamed, he didn't want to be in the same
room. He dashed over the rubble, his sluggish speed filling him with dread. He
got out into the hall and found a window. Fortunately they were on the ground
floor, so he leapt through it. He had gone through armour plating on many
occasions, but this four-pane window hurt more than anything he had
experienced before.

Back in the warehouse, Emily was bunched up in pain, her body glowing dull red
and the air around her shimmering. She tried to conquer it, but found it
impossible to overcome the pain. Her tensed body heated rapidly, the
distortion of the heat waves grew around her until the ragged clothes she wore
burst into flame against her skin. As her blouse fell away in tatters, and the
contact with kryptonite was broken as it dropped away. She fell to the floor
exhausted as the cramping instantly ceased. Even with super-charged synapses
Emily took several moments to recover.

"That bastard."

Getting to her feet, Emily checked herself. She felt fine. Better than
fine..she felt magnificent. She'd always been a healthy person, but no-one
from Earth had ever felt this healthy.

Remembering how much the little stone next to her foot had hurt her, she
stepped away from it. Clark Kent would have to pay for his little trick. Emily
started to run after him. He must have used the hole she made earlier. Then
she stopped.

"What am I doing? Superman never chased anyone on foot." Looking up at the
ceiling Emily leapt up with enough force to crack the concrete beneath her
feet. Emily found herself rocketing up through the warehouse and into the open
air, the industrial estate growing small under her feet.