Super Sister 8 Cheer Cheer For Old Smallville
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Super-Sister #9: Lois Lane Comes To Smallville free porn video
Super-Sister #9: Lois Lane Comes to Smallville
By Heather St. Claire
"In Smallville one day, the people blink in disbelief as they see a girl
dressed in the super uniform of Superboy, patrolling in his place! You
will be even more amazed to enter the privacy of the Kent home to find a
daughter living with mom and dad! Yes, the most freakish twist of fate
imaginable changes the boy of steel into a lass of steel, when Clark Kent
becomes...Claire Kent, alias Super-Sister!"
October 23, 1960--From the diary of Claire Ross: I had a visitor from the
big city today. A reporter from Gotham City named Lois Lane. I didn't
care for the woman one bit. She was working on a story about the last
public appearance of Super-Sister almost ten years ago, and is talking to
as many townspeople as will give her the time of day.
I suppose I was prejudiced from the start; everything I heard about her
came from my best friend, Lana Lang. Lana and Lois used to be colleagues
on the Daily Planet in Metropolis and had an intense professional
rivalry. Last spring, they both left the paper about the same time to
move to Gotham City. "Poor Perry White (the Planet's editor) just about
swallowed his cigar when I gave notice less than a week after Lois did,"
Lana said with a chuckle during a long-distance phone call to me sharing
the news.
The Planet's editor was a legendary figure in journalism; most of the
legends concerned his ferocious temper. "Was he a mean boss?" I asked.
"Oh no," Lana said with a laugh. "Perry likes to play gruff, but he's a
big pussycat at heart, and as long as you deliver the goods--big
scoops--you've got no bigger cheerleader."
Lois joined the Gotham Gazette, filling a hole that had been left by
Vicki Vale's departure, while Lana "sold her soul to the devil," as she
so cheerily put it. She would be joining Wayne Enterprises as their chief
of public relations. She didn't make any secret of the fact that her
great attraction was to the billionaire playboy who heads the family
business, Bruce Wayne. "At least I'm honest that I'm following a man,"
she said, her voice theatrically rising. "Lois is too, but she won't
admit it."
I took Lana's bait and asked for the object of Lane's affections.
"Why, the Batman, of course!" she cooed.
"The masked vigilante?" Lana nodded, and I steered the conversation back
to my twin four-year olds. Better not to dwell on costumed crimefighters,
especially since I used to be one.
The last time I saw Lana was more than a year ago, at our ten-year high
school reunion. Lana came striding into the Elks banquet hall where our
dinner and dance was being held, looking for all the world like the
stylish city girl she's become. She wore an elegant black dress, and I
could see immediately that her shoes and handbag were understated but
expensive.
"Claire!" she almost squealed with delight. We hugged, then Lana and my
husband Pete embraced, and the three of us settled in for a good long
chat. Lana reached into her handbag and withdrew a gold cigarette case
and matching lighter. As she extracted a cigarette and lit up, I didn't
have to say anything; she could see the disapproval on my face.
"Oh, Claire," she said with a sigh. "Please don't judge me. I know these
things aren't good for me, but they are soooo addictive."
"Tell me, author of the prize-winning series on the links between smoking
and health."
"Perry White was so spooked by what I wrote he even went two days without
a cigar," she said with a laugh. "I quit for a couple of weeks myself,
but...."
I reached out and squeezed her free hand. "I know, honey. I know." I used
my x-ray vision to sneak a look at Lana's lungs. Still clear; but for how
long?
I found myself thinking about the addictive dangers of cigarettes again
today when Miss Lane came to our home. As I feared, the coming
anniversary of Super-Sister's disappearance from public view is bringing
a spate of anniversary articles; no doubt most will be filled with rehash
of my past glories and speculation about my current whereabouts. Is
Super-Sister dead? On another world? In hiding?
Or did she never go anywhere? Is still performing super-feats, but under
the cloak of secrecy? The last theory represents the truth. It reflects
the decision I made with ma and pa's counsel, following the trouble
stirred up by Senator Joe McCarthy a decade ago. Although the good
senator drank himself into an early grave a few years ago, it still
doesn't feel like the time is right for Super-Sister to re-emerge
publicly. I suppose whenever that day does come, it will be time to
introduce the world to Superwoman. If Super-Sister is becoming a distant
memory, Superboy has faded even further from the public's consciousness.
How soon they forget. But I haven't forgotten that I spent the first half
of my life as a boy. I go days for a time without thinking about it, then
the most mundane thing brings back the memory of my former life. Take
this morning, when I was getting ready for Miss Lane's visit. Even though
Pete insisted on buying us a washer and dryer last year, I still like to
hang the wash outside to dry whenever the weather permits. There's
nothing like the smell of clothes that have dried in the good Kansas air.
As I walked into the backyard carrying the basket of laundry, a gentle
breeze swirled my skirt. It's a feeling I always enjoy. In an instant,
though, I was no longer a 29-year-old mother of two; I was a dazed and
confused 15-year-old girl, transformed from a boy less than a couple of
hours before. I had sat numbly waiting for ma to return home with the
bags full of clothing that would allow me to begin my new life. I still
remember how I fumbled with putting on a bra for the first time and had
to turn to ma for help. I can see the long-sleeved white blouse and the
red checked skirt I put on like it was yesterday. Then ma called Lana
from next door, she took me by the hand, and I stepped outdoors for the
first time as Claire. And the breeze lifted my skirt....
How far I've journeyed in the years since.
To say I was bewildered at first would be putting it mildly. Almost
immediately, I resolved to be brave and make the best of a very strange
situation. It wasn't easy; some part of me fought the reality that stared
in my face every time I glanced in a mirror or looked at any part of my
body. But ma and pa kept me grounded, and I think my growing, undeniable
attraction for Pete helped me negotiate the transition as well as I could
have hoped. Today, I can happily say, in the words of that Rogers and
Hammerstein song from a couple of years ago, "I Enjoy Being a Girl."
Once I finished hanging the laundry, I gave the house a final once-over;
I didn't want to leave any stray dust motes in a corner or leave any
pillow unfluffed. I fanned the magazines on the coffee table, gave myself
a final check in the mirror, and pronounced all in readiness. I take
pride in our home, and I have to admit, I didn't want to give our big-
city visitor any reason to look down on us. I felt as relaxed and ready
as I could be when Miss Lane pulled up in her rented Chevrolet.
"Damn Hertz!" she snarled as I opened the door. "I TOLD them I wanted a
convertible! But do they ever listen?" she finally paused long enough for
me to welcome her to our home. She was momentarily flustered, but she
quickly apologized for her rudeness and entered our living room. She's an
attractive brunette, about my height, about as curvy, but a city dweller
all the way. It's not just the clothing and accessories; it's the way
they move like the whole world needs to keep up with them.
She planted herself on the couch, whipped out her notebook that poked out
of her oversized purse, and immediately started firing questions: how
well did I know Super-Sister? How many times had I actually seen her in
person? Had I ever had a one-on-one conversation with her? Why did I
think she had vanished? Where did I think she might be today?
I managed to field every one of her queries smoothly until she asked:
"You and my former colleague Lana Lang were classmates here. What about
her theories that you are, or were, Super-Sister?"
That one caught me off guard momentarily. During the couple of years that
Superboy was active, Lana poured as much energy as she could into
providing that he and Clark Kent were the same person. When Superboy and
Clark were replaced by Super-Sister and Claire her suspicions continued
and even intensified for a time.
I took a deep breath, smoothed my skirt, and said, "Miss Lane, if Lana
told you about her childish speculations, I'm sure she also told you that
she now believes those suspicions were completely unfounded. Completely,"
I said, underscoring the word with as much emphasis as I could.
"Well. Yes," Lois said. She stubbed out the cigarette she had
finished--the second she had smoked since her arrival--and immediately lit
a third. Pete and I don't smoke, but we keep an ashtray handy for our
guests who do. Most of them, however, are at least courteous enough to
ask before lighting up. This was almost as annoying as her habit of
dumping spoonful after spoonful of sugar into the coffee I served her and
noisily clacking her spoon against the side of Pete's mother's fine
china. Yes, everything about Miss Lane was big city: her perfect
coiffure, her stylish black and red dress, her tasteful accessories; yet
there was nothing that struck me as elegant or truly classy.
"You apparently believe that Super-Sister is still around, Miss Lane, and
frankly, so do I, but it's just speculation. I have no first-hand proof.
There have certainly been some amazing unexplained occurrences, like the
early summer day in 1951 when a forest fire was suddenly extinguished, an
endangered cruise ship was mysteriously whisked to safety and an undersea
earthquake off of Alaska was mysteriously stopped. Most people attribute
those events to the unseen hand of Super-Sister, and I tend to agree."
Lois smiled broadly. "And where were you when all these miraculous events
were taking place, Mrs. Ross?"
I couldn't resist a tsk-tsk and a broad smile of my own. "Why, I'm
disappointed, Miss Lane. If you had done the kind of research Lana says
you're famous for, you'd know that was my wedding day. My husband, my
mother, and a host of other witnesses will verify my presence on that
day, including Lana, who was my maid of honor." (See Super-Sister #7,
"Claire Ross, Alias Super-Bride!")
We talked on for a while longer, but it was clear I wouldn't be able to
give Lois Lane what she wanted. As the conversation wound down, I
couldn't resist turning the tables to ask Miss Lane about Gotham City's
most famous resident. "So, if you don't mind me asking, Miss Lane, I'm
curious about The Batman. You've had some great exclusive stories about
his exploits. Is what Lana told me true, that you moved to Gotham
specifically to be close to him?"
I could see Lois' spine instantly stiffen. "Mrs. Ross, I assure you my
interest in The Batman is strictly a professional one. I'm not sure
that's the case with our mutual friend Miss Lang."
I smiled coyly. "Oh, really? She's been seeing her boss, Bruce Wayne, on
a pretty steady basis."
"Well," Lois said. "I have to admit that I do admire The Batman. Imagine
fighting crime without any super-powers. Only using technology, your wits
and your bravery."
"Being super-powered like Super-Sister was an advantage, I'm sure," I
snapped back. "But she took her share of risks as well. I'm sure you've
heard of Kryptonite."
Lois closed her notebook. "Yes, Mrs. Ross," she said evenly. "Yes I have.
Well, I've taken up too much of your time already. Good day."
As I finally showed her to the door with a sense of relief, I couldn't
help but wonder what might have happened had my life taken a different
turn. Suppose Pete and I hadn't become so serious so soon? Suppose Pa
hadn't suffered his heart attack right after I graduated from Smallville
High? These were the things that kept me home, kept me rooted in place.
In a different world, I might have followed my dreams to the big city,
and might have even ended up at a desk in the Daily Planet newsroom
alongside Lois Lane. Would we have become rivals? Might we have even
somehow become friends? As hard as it was to imagine, I could see it,
somehow. There was a fierce drive in the woman I had to grudgingly
admire. Her conviction that journalists had a role to play to building a
better society, serving as a voice for the downtrodden and disposed,
seemed genuine. Who knows? Stranger things have happened.
There was still an hour left before I would need to pick up the twins
from their daycare; enough time for a high patrol of the countryside. I
fly at too great an altitude to be seen, but thanks to my super-senses I
can notice the tiniest of details on the ground below...
....or in the distant skies. It was a peaceful early afternoon, until my
telescopic vision picked up a guided missile that appeared to be plunging
out of control toward a nearby mountaintop. I streaked toward the
location where the rocket appeared to be headed, realizing it was a place
where a transforming moment in my life had taken place--quite literally.
It was on this spot more than fourteen years ago that I had been changed
from a boy into a girl.
I wasn't aware of any scheduled launches from Cape Canaveral today and
wondered if this might be a secret military test. I scanned the rocket
with my super-vision and quickly determined it was of alien origin. That
ratched up my level of concern several degrees. Before I could intercept
the speeding missile, it crashed into the mountaintop. There was a
tremendous roar and a billowing cloud of black smoke rose into the sky. I
prayed the craft was unoccupied; I couldn't imagine anyone surviving a
crash like that.
So imagine my surprise when I began searching the wreckage and found a
teenaged girl, to all appearances a normal humanoid, dazed but apparently
unhurt. I was even more astonished to find that she was wearing a costume
patterned after my own; the top, cape and boots were identical to mine,
right down to the S symbol on her chest, but instead of tights, her
outfit featured a short skirt. The silly things that pop into your head
at times; I couldn't help but think of ma's suggestion after my change
that I adopt a skirt, but I argued against it for reasons of modesty.
The young blonde quickly shook off her disorientation; she stood up,
brushed herself off, and said, "Hello, Super-Sister. It's so good to
finally meet you."
Wouldn't Lois Lane be thrilled to stumble onto a scene like this, I
thought. Instead, I went into full reporter mode, asking the girl who she
was, where she came from, why she wore a costume like mine, how she had
survived the crash unscathed, and how she was able to speak such perfect
English when she obviously was not from Earth.
"Easy, Super-Sister!" she said with a sweet laugh. "I'll explain
everything. Like you, I'm a survivor of the planet Krypton!"
"But that's impossible!" I exclaimed. "I am the only survivor of Krypton!
And you...you're too young! You weren't even born when Krypton exploded."
I listened with rapt attention as I learned that when Krypton blew apart,
a large chunk of the planet was hurled away intact. That fragment was the
site of Argo City, home to one of the planet's most brilliant scientists,
Zor-El, who also was my father's younger brother. Zor-El took charge,
addressing a number of challenges residents of the floating city faced.
The planetary remnant was actually large enough to retain its own
atmosphere, but to ensure the environment remained habitable, he
supervised construction of a dome to cover the city and an air filtration
system. When the soil of the city began to transmute into deadly
Kryptonite, he deployed lead shielding for protection.
The years passed and this piece of the planet lived on; Zor-El took a
wife, Allura, and, they had a daughter, the young girl who stood before
me. At that moment, my heart overflowing with joy, I burst into tears and
embraced....my cousin. "Oh Kara! Did you know what your father was my
father's brother? We...we're family!" She nodded, her own face bright with
tears.
"Yes, cousin. But I didn't realize we were related. I thought Jor-El only
had a son."
"That's another story, and I'll fill you in, but I need to know how and
why you're on Earth."
Kara teared up again. "Everything was fine until several weeks ago, when
a meteor shower shattered the dome over the city and punched large holes
in the lead shielding. It was possible to patch the dome, but we had no
more lead. My father let the leaders of the city know that the slow
release of Kryptonite radiation would doom us all. The leaders chose not
to alert the population too soon, knowing that panic and chaos would be
the result. But my parents had the gift of time....a gift they dedicated to
saving me."
The girl told me how they had searched the cosmos for a habitable world,
and stumbled upon earth. By observing things here through a space
telescope, they learned that Superboy and Super-Sister, survivors or
Krypton, had once patrolled the planet, though both had vanished from
public sight. The entire family went through a crash course in earth
language, history and customs. "My mother patterned this costume after
yours in hopes that if you were still on the planet, you'd realize that I
was Kryptonian as well." I nodded. "My father was working on a rocket
that could carry the three of us to safety, but time ran out, and he had
to launch me into space alone in this prototype," she said, gesturing to
the wreckage beside her.
"Just like my father," I said quietly, feeling the catch in my throat.
"So, Super-Sister...whatever happened to Superboy? Is he really on another
world?"
I smiled, and grabbed the girl's hand and squeezed it tightly. I nodded
toward a rocky shelf. "Sit down, Kara," I said. "Like I said, it's quite
a story."
NOTE: This story, and others in the series, is based on the 1960 Superboy
story, "Claire Kent, Alias Super Sister!" Clark is transformed into a
girl in the story, but it all turns out to be a "mental vision" projected
by the alien Shar-La. In this series, I assume the transformation
actually happened and carry Claire's story forward.
Arisha
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