2.1 Masks.

10:28 AM, 25th of March 1989

Things are very confusing, however the French Government has publicly approved of my actions and indemnified me from all repercussions of my actions in this extreme situation, claiming me as an asset since I was there working with the military from the beginning. The monster has terrified the populace and some vocal groups claim I could have done more or lured it away.

Chemo the newspapers call it. But then, I've been upgraded from Joyride to 'Bubbleboy'… the Seinfield reference too many years early for the show. Anyhow my identity is shot, the American Ambassador has my application for immigration and France is stubbornly trying to lure me back and keep me as a national symbol and the superhuman equivalent of nuclear deterrence.

So I've met both the American Ambassador and the French Minister of Defence in separate meetings, including a conference call with the French President. Not a name I remembered from history, but then this world's politics have been different from my last one since WW2.

They have offered me a stipend to be a full time hero. Including a secure residence and medical benefits. Essentially they intended to attach me to the metropolitan police force as a special asset.

It was really tempting, too.

They were already putting laws in place to allow for metahumans and the like to receive a similar position if they are willing, in any form of public service. Deliberately tempting potential villains from badly thought out schemes was a plus in my book.

I was intended to be the face of this initiative. Really, I wanted this to succeed. But I had other plans.

So I was forced to commit to a press conference (*Shudder*).

To advocate for this system and publicly pull out at the same time because of personal reasons.

I've been holed up in a residence used for political guests, a penthouse apartment in the heart of Paris guarded by a team of bodyguards.

The press conference was held in an auditorium nearby, but actually getting there by conventional means was difficult to say the least. Protesters calling me a weapon of Mass Destruction. Fans cheering… some rabid teenage girls tried to reach me screaming their heads off. Ugh. To whoever is listening, the Source, that fourth dimensional imp, please don't make me this universe's version of Bieber. No too soon… um… the current artist named Prince, who in the future will be something else? I'm not really up to date with contemporary, flash in the pan, tween heart-throbs.

The auditorium was filled to capacity, including a wide variety of international reporters. Looking for the Daily Planet contingent I found a dark haired, serious looking, model pretty woman haranguing her escort, a tall, slightly submissive seeming man in thick glasses. Who I couldn't sense anything from. Huh. It's the cellular force-field projecting variety of Superman? His watch shows up, but iron in his blood? Nada. Nerves might be too different from human to tell. There is a faint aura? Glow? That'd be him absorbing solar radiation.

I make my statements, describe my actions and the sequence of events that lead to Chemo being revealed and eventually captured.

Then I open up for questions.

After a few queries for greater detail and (confidential details) about Fleur the question I dreaded came.

"Gordon Reynolds, The Vlatavan Star, is it true that you are actually the third in line for the throne of Vlatava? Victor Ignatius Vertigo, not Magnus as your identity claims?" Right to the point. "Your father sends his congratulations." Oh, you're a stooge.

"I have renounced my name and here and now I do the same to any titles or claims I may have to that nation. France has kindly sheltered me, as my father is an abusive asshole who imprisoned me in his private dungeon for more than half a year." I returned fire.

The reporters were ruffled by the juicy story fallen into their laps.

"Are you certain? I had heard you were declared to be bedridden with a contagious disease." The jackass in Dad's pocket replied.

"Oh yes, he would say that." I replied with maximum sarcasm. "So much nicer than saying I have my child chained to a wall in my private prison in my basement. Because I deliberately foiled his attempt to murder his infant niece for a crown." I snapped my fingers. "Now, no more from you Mr Reynolds. I have nothing to say to my Father's toadies."

"How did you escape?" Lois asked.

"My powers very slowly developed in the cell, allowing me to eventually pick the locks on my chains and cell and fly to freedom, on the tail of a passing French Bee passenger flight heading home." I shrugged. "And here we are. Any further questions, miss?"

"Lois Lane, Daily Planet. Is there any significance to the footage of you wearing a Superman symbol?" She replied immediately.

"It was a t-shirt I found for sale and a nod to someone I consider a peer and role model."

"So you are not related to Him in any way beyond professional courtesy?" She asked.

"I have respect for anyone who willingly goes out and uses their powers and talents for the betterment of our species, especially with such obvious restraint." I smiled. "Powers are nothing new, they have been around since World War 2. Magic, hyper-advanced science and predispositions to supernatural abilities have been bubbling under the surface ever since then and in some cases existed long before. The difference is that for the first time since that glorious movement of the Allies against the Axis' Ubermensch, people are rising up to use their abilities in the public eye. So it stands to reason that to support this change new laws are needed to not only encourage this behaviour but reward it. Because while many people can be selfless and help others because of duty, responsibility or determination to right wrongs others faced with desperation or short-sighted greed might choose to go in an opposite direction and end up as hardened criminals when they might not have ever needed to be."

Lois raised her hand again. "If people were to use their powers for criminal purposes how do you believe they should be handled?"

"First of all, sometimes powers have issues with control initially and people may make mistakes and cause damage out of enthusiasm, pure accident or foolishness. These should be treated gently. Criminals, particularly white-collar crime should also be persuaded towards a legal purpose. However there will inevitably arise the worst kind of scum who abuse leniency and legal loop holes to remain a thorn in the side of crime prevention and civilisation itself. I would ask for all governments to develop a system overseen by the UN that allows notorious super powered murderers be tried by an international court, one with the ability to enforce the death penalty. Since for many of us, the abuse of our abilities equates to a war crime. After all the next Chemo could easily be an insane maniac instead of a monster, with all the problems that includes. I would also urge that the laws be changed to allow for the inclusion of non-human intelligence as citizens in the case that a friendly or benign creature be found with the ability to reason: to allow them the possibility of applying for refugee or resident status. I know of one deserving example already, Red Tornado: a sentient android that fought to end the Nazi war machine."

Lois seemed taken aback. "That is quite a list of proposals, anything else?"

"The ability for heroic individuals to own the rights to their likeness and brand, to be able to apply for bank accounts and businesses under additional scrutiny of the government in question, if only to avoid tax evasion or tricksters forging false identities to discredit the hero. For charitable purposes or to receive donations if nothing else. Personally, I wish to start my own business. My powers have many constructive purposes I have yet to explore."

I smiled. I had them hooked. "My final suggestion, that if they can demonstrate competency at a high level these heroic individuals be affiliated loosely with the local police forces if they do not wish to openly join them and thus be able to legally aid them in the arrest of criminal superhumans. With appropriate wages provided for services rendered."

"Well, this should be quite an article..." Lois muttered.

Clark nodded next to her, in quiet thought.

I left the stewing reporters behind in the auditorium and returned to my apartment the easy way, flying there. I needed a shower and time to relax after that brush with Dad's sleazy minion.

My bodyguards got back a few minutes later and while I was complained at for it, frankly these people were there more to keep people away from me, than to save me in the event of danger. They were glorified bouncers at the press conference. Oh, they probably might have my life in their hands… but only as I sleep. But I'm not going to make a fuss about it. I'll just take the time to go for a nice flight later tonight. Hopefully see a certain caped fellow I've been itching to meet.