Chapter 3

The Kent farm stood quiet in the early morning light, a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding on the small television in the living room. Eighteen-year-old Clark Kent sat on the edge of the worn couch, his eyes fixed on the screen as footage of a devastating tornado in Oklahoma played out before him.

"At least 50 people are still unaccounted for," the news anchor reported, her voice grave. "First responders are overwhelmed, and Vought's superhero team has yet to arrive on the scene."

Clark's fists clenched, his jaw set in determination. He'd spent years hiding his abilities, living in fear of discovery. But now, watching the destruction and suffering, something inside him snapped into place.

"I can't sit here and do nothing," he murmured, rising to his feet.

Martha Kent entered the room, her eyes moving from the TV to her son's face. She recognized the look of resolve, and her heart swelled with a mixture of pride and fear.

"Clark," she said softly, "are you sure about this? Once you step into the light, there's no going back."

Clark turned to his mother, his blue eyes shining with purpose. "I have to, Mom. I have these powers for a reason. If I can save even one life, it's worth the risk."

Jonathan Kent appeared in the doorway, his weathered face etched with concern. "Son, we've always known this day might come. But you need to understand the consequences. Vought controls the superhero narrative in this country. They won't take kindly to an independent hero."

Clark nodded, his mind already racing with plans. "I know, Dad. That's why I need to do this right. I need a disguise, something that will protect our family while allowing me to help people."

For the next hour, the Kent family worked together in a flurry of activity. Martha disappeared into her sewing room, emerging with a suit she'd been secretly working on for years – a vibrant blue bodysuit with a red cape, emblazoned with a stylized 'S' shield on the chest.

"It's perfect, Mom," Clark breathed, running his fingers over the fabric.

As Clark changed into the suit, Jonathan paced the kitchen, his voice low and urgent as he spoke on the phone with an old friend from his military days. "Listen, Pete, I need a favor. That stuff we talked about, about creating a new identity? It's time."

By the time Clark emerged, resplendent in his new costume, a plan had been set in motion. He would make his debut, save lives, and disappear before Vought could track him down. A new identity would be waiting for him when he returned – one that would allow him to live a normal life while still helping people.

"Remember, son," Jonathan said, placing a hand on Clark's shoulder, "you're not just representing yourself out there. You're carrying the hopes of everyone who's ever dreamed of a better world. Be the hero they need."

With a nod and a quick embrace of his parents, Clark stepped outside. He took a deep breath, feeling the Kansas sun on his face one last time before launching himself into the sky with a sonic boom.

The flight to Oklahoma took mere minutes, Clark's mind racing faster than his body as he rehearsed what he would say and do. As he approached the disaster zone, the scale of destruction took his breath away. Entire neighborhoods had been flattened, cars tossed about like toys.

Clark descended into the heart of the chaos, touching down amidst a group of shell-shocked survivors. For a moment, everyone froze, staring at the caped figure who had appeared out of nowhere.

"I'm here to help," Clark said, his voice steady and reassuring. "Please, tell me where you need me."

There was a beat of silence, then a flurry of activity. An elderly woman approached, her voice trembling. "My grandson – he's trapped in the basement of that building." She pointed to a collapsed structure nearby.

Without hesitation, Clark moved. With careful precision, he lifted massive chunks of debris, tossing them aside as if they weighed nothing. Onlookers gasped and murmured, smartphones appearing to capture the incredible feat.

Within moments, Clark had cleared a path to the basement. He could hear a faint heartbeat, and with gentle hands, he lifted a young boy from the rubble. The child blinked in the sudden light, then broke into a wide smile as he saw his rescuer.

"Are you an angel?" the boy asked in wonder.

Clark smiled, floating them both back to the waiting grandmother. "No, just a friend. Someone who wants to help."

As he handed the child over, cheers erupted from the crowd. But Clark didn't pause to bask in the adulation. There were more people to save.

For the next several hours, Clark was a blur of motion. He extinguished fires with his freeze breath, used his x-ray vision to locate survivors, and lifted impossibly heavy objects to free those trapped. All the while, he made sure to speak to each person he rescued, offering words of comfort and hope.

As the sun began to set, Clark finally paused, hovering above the disaster zone. The immediate danger had passed, and he could hear the approaching sirens of Vought's superhero team.

A news helicopter circled overhead, its camera trained on the mysterious hero. Clark knew it was time to leave, but he had one last thing to do.

Floating down to where a group of reporters had gathered, Clark addressed the cameras directly. "I know you have questions, and I promise to answer them in time. But for now, know this: I am not here for fame or fortune. I'm here to help, in whatever way I can. To stand for truth, justice, and hope."

With that, Clark shot into the sky, leaving a sonic boom in his wake. As he flew back towards Smallville, his mind raced with the implications of what he'd done. There was no going back now – he had declared himself to the world.

Landing softly in the Kent farm's backyard, Clark was immediately enveloped in a fierce hug from his parents.

"We saw everything on the news," Martha said, her voice thick with emotion. "You were amazing, Clark."

Jonathan nodded, his eyes shining with pride. "You did good, son. But this is just the beginning. Vought will be looking for you now."

Clark nodded, his face set with determination. "Let them look. I won't hide anymore, Dad. The world needs a symbol of hope – someone to stand up to the corruption and greed. And I intend to be that symbol."

As the Kent family walked back into their home, the TV in the living room blared with breaking news. Footage of Clark's rescue efforts played on a loop, with pundits already debating the implications of an independent superhero.

The anchor's voice cut through the chatter: "The question on everyone's mind tonight: Who is this mysterious flying man? And what does his appearance mean for the future of superheroes in America?"

Clark smiled to himself as he listened. They could speculate all they wanted, but he knew the truth. He wasn't just a superhero – he was Superman. And he was ready to change the world.