"External Faith" - From the memoirs of KC

Superman had gone bad, they said. The gold heart of the man of steel had, as it were, tarnished and rusted beyond recognition. Gone were the good old days of elderly people being saved from oncoming busses and young planets being saved from oncoming asteroids, replaced by a Super-whirlwind of malicious violence. Countless bicycles were hopelessly heat-rayed in two. Ocean travel was reduced to ships randomly floating on the currents, embedded in their own super-chill-breath icebergs. Monuments and works of art, no matter how solidly built, ended up invariably toppled or twisted. Dinners around the world suffered from having messy super-speed bites taken out of the middle of every dish before getting to the table.

Not all hope was lost. The Kryptonite sales and manufacturing sectors were booming, and despite the impossibility of their existence, experts in Kryptonian psychology were doing very well for themselves going on Superman-survival lecture tours. And, of course, there was Niles Underbottom.

Niles, to put it bluntly, almost but not quite epitomized the term 'pathetic'. His spine was suitable for little more than making slime molds look like stiff-backed vertebrates, his smile was reminiscent of stale tuna dip, and the liveliest form of entertainment he could wrap his imagination around was blinking ten times per second, as opposed to his usual five times per second. While he did, of course, have redeeming qualities, the best one that anyone who knew him well could name was that he never left the toilet seat up.

Niles was not, by any stretch of the imagination, Superman's only target for malicious acts. He was, however, among the former superhero's favorites. It made the differences between Superman and the humans of Earth so pleasantly and abundantly clear, if nothing else. One of those differences, I suspect he reflected as he was once again stumbling away from the Man of Stee...er... Rust, was that Superman wouldn't have put up with the kind of treatment that...

But Niles' rare bouts of potential reflection were, inevitably, cut short by some nasty Super-act or another. As he went hurtling through the air, he may have started to reflect on that very fact, but probably cut himself short due to a rapidly evolving superstition concerning the correlation of "Niles Thinking" and "Bad Things Happening." Perhaps it was wise, because he narrowly missed a demonstration of the irregidity of his spine when compared to a brick wall, and only crashed through a plate glass window instead.

Apologizing profusely to everyone around, Niles staggered to his feet and, after more than doubling the damage he'd already done to the shop, managed to remain upright.

It must be said, in Niles' defense, that one item in the shop had very legitimately caught his attention. In those bad days, everyone was familiar with a few points of hope. The name 'Lex Luthor', for example, a bright beacon in the Super-night. The usually-green shine of Kryptonite, for another. And, of course, the fusion of the two: The Kryptonite-powered super suit that Lex was developing in his ongoing battle to stem the worst of the Super-problems. Anyone would have staggered a bit had they, like Niles, seen Lex's suit there before them.

Niles had, most likely, had it with being tormented by Superman. He'd also known there wasn't a thing he could do about it because even if he weren't, as he knew all too well, painfully pathetic, he was still only human. Even if he got up the nerve to, ever so politely ask Superman not to be quite so mean, he couldn't put any weight behind the request... at least, none that'd be noticed.

Niles hadn't had Lex's Super Suit, though, and as he pulled the outfit on, I bet he permitted himself the luxury of a little reflection. Just enough to think about how Lex had made the suit to practically operate on its own. Something reminiscent of stale tuna dip spread slowly across his face. All he had to do was whatever the suit made him do, and that couldn't be any harder than doing whatever Superman had made him do. Like flying across the street, with the greatest of ease, into a window.

Later that day, while gleefully terrorizing some senior citizens, a look of Super-suprise spread across Superman's face when he saw Niles headed his way. It might have been because Niles was sauntering, which would strike most people as only a little less strange than a disco-dancing tarantula. It might have been because Niles wasn't stumbling /away/, which was the only direction he ever moved, as far as Superman was concerned. It might have been something else.

Undaunted by Superman's unusual expression, Niles continued to saunter up. He greeted Superman casually, explained in no uncertain terms that he was not going to put up with being bullied anymore, then jabbed a finger into the legendary red-and-yellow S to make it clear to whom he was speaking.

Naturally, Superman toppled over like a board.

The former Man of Steel was, to put it mildly, unaccustomed to such treatment, and quickly got to his feet with the look of someone who's about to transition from mild Super-bullying to more serious Super-malice. A number of the reporters who recklessly trailed Superman and his 'antics' commented rather gleefully on this point. While, that day, their thirst for seeing an obviously superior opponent thoroughly trounce an inferior patsy was not satisfied, they did capture some impressive footage of Superman taking a lot more than he dished out, not to mention some never-before-seen Super facial expressions.

The details of the fight really aren't important to anyone who doesn't collect comic books, but the results were clear. Superman was given the two classic choice of 'shape up' or 'ship out', and Niles didn't relent until it was clear that "None of the above" wasn't one of the options.

Truth be told, Superman did manage to choose something not on Niles' list, because while he's not a Super-genius, he's still a pretty darn clever Kryptonian, and he stuck around without doing the shaping up he'd claimed was his plan. It had, of course, become clear that with Lex's suit, Niles was more than a match for Superman, but everyone also knew that nobody, unaided, could really even contemplate taking on the former superhero. So, with some plotting and some scheming, Superman saw to it that somehow (nobody ever figured out how, what with the human-impregnable and kryptonite-laced security system), one night, a very convincing fake suit was substituted for the one Niles had worn.

It was sad. Niles didn't even realize the swap had been made until some tipped-off reporters stormed the now well-known door of the man who could keep Superman at bay. With scientists in tow, they revealed that the tip was right: Niles was now the proud owner of a rather convincingly painted foam rubber and ceramic suit.

These days, things are back to normal. That brief span when Niles kept the peace still linger on fondly in people's memory, but the world has become accustomed to investing in Kryptonite doorknobs and lead-lined underwear, and that's the best they can do against the ongoing level of Super-meyhem. Without the likes of the suit, there's really nothing more they can do.

Of course, the nastiest piece of Super-mischief is the thing I never told anyone. They all still wonder how I swapped out the suits, so they'll never realize that all I had to do was call the media and tell the truth of the matter. Of course, if somehow they do figure out that's all I did, I really will have to ship out, because man oh man, if they realize that Niles Underbottom, of all people, didn't need anything special to whup me...