Supermaxx
Mao Mao
Simple Unicycle
Fetzen
Vinson Massif, Antarctica
The sky darkened above Antarctica's highest peak. The sound of the clouds rumbling brought a frown to William Johnson’s face. It was his forty-seventh ascent up Vinson Massif and he’d never once known the clouds to look so heavy and dark. Every part of him felt like they should turn back, but the small expedition group he was lead were only six hundred feet from the top and he knew well enough they wouldn’t turn back now – even if he ordered them to. He had to hope that the heavens didn’t open on them before they made their way back down.
“<Sounds like lightning.>”
Pierre was the most level-headed of the four civilians in Johnson’s group. He was a French extreme sports enthusiast that had traded in banking for a life of risk. He was also the only other person making the climb that had any experience on a mountain. Johnson could tell from the look on Pierre’s face that he knew the clouds were a bad omen.
“<Lighting is the least of our worries. If there’s a downpour there’s no way we’re making it back down the mountain in one piece. It’s tough enough making the descent in good conditions.>”
The Frenchman nodded anxiously and continued to trudge behind Johnson. The Americans following after them were struggling for breath. Despite what they’d been told months before the expedition, none of them had bothered to prepare for the expedition, least of all the forty-two year old that seemed to think climbing a sixteen thousand foot tall mountain would be as easy as running a half marathon. They were morons to the last of them but Johnson was used to it. He’d been leading men with more money than sense up and down these slopes for decades.
There was another loud crack from the clouds above them. This time the group stopped as the rumble of the thunder made the entire mountain shake. They could almost feel it in their chests. They stared at the clouds, scared stiff of a coming maelstrom, until one member of the group pointed a finger towards them.
“Can you see that?”
“We need to keep moving,” Johnson called back to them bullishly. “The weather is not going to get any better and I know you didn’t come this far to turn back now so we need to keep moving.”
“<There’s something falling.>”
The anxiousness in Pierre’s voice caught William’s attention. He stopped despite his reservations and peered up at the object that was falling from the clouds. It was tough to make out among the swirling winds. He reached for his mask, pulling it away from his face, to better see the thing falling from high above them.
“It must be a bird,” Johnson muttered. “What else could it be?”
Pierre braved the bitter winds by plucking the mask off his face also. “<A bird? At this height? That doesn’t make any sense. No bird can survive in this cold.>”
Another shock of lightning in the distance shook the mountain. This time William was forced to hold Pierre’s arm to stop himself from losing his footing. The other men murmured in disbelief as the brief moment of clarity the lightning had provided revealed the object’s true form.
“<It looks like a person.>”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Johnson said with a shake of his head. “It can’t be.”
A sudden gust of wind sent the object barrelling towards the men. The closer it got to the five of them, the clearer it became that Pierre was correct. It was a person, as improbable as that seemed, and it was heading straight towards them. Johnson shouted a warning to the civilians, yanking on the rope that bound them all together in an attempt to move them out of the falling body’s path. A particularly unfit member of the group struggled to jog out of its path and the Frenchman Pierre shoulder-barged him to the ground at the last second.
The body landed with such a heavy thud that it felt almost like another thunderclap. The mountain shook, jarring the sheet of snow that was resting on top of it, and Johnson looked up at it with despair. If the rain didn’t get them, an avalanche surely would. Some snow knocked loose but to his relief the sheet held and the shaking mountain seemed to steady beneath them.
Pierre made his way towards the body and used his gloved hand to lift its head. “<It’s a man – and he’s still… he’s still breathing, William.>”
“Have you been living under a rock for the past year?” An American shouted over at Pierre. “That’s not a man, you idiot, that’s Superman.”
The American tried to turn the man over but was unable to lift him. He signalled to the others and his friends trudged through the snow to help him. In unison they bent their knees and rolled the body over to reveal a tattered, blood-splattered costume that bore an insignia was familiar to all of them. It was Superman, alright – though there was something different about him. His face was flecked with stubble and there were thick streaks of grey hairs along his temples.
Pierre eyed Superman’s wounds anxiously and then looked at the expedition leader Johnson for direction. “<What do we do? He looks hurt.>”
Johnson reached for the radio on his lapel. He was about to call for help when he noticed that Superman’s eyes had opened. They were glowing red. The first word was barely out of Johnson’s mouth when his jaw was disintegrated by a beam of the Man of Steel’s heat vision. Blood splattered across the snow and sprinkled Pierre’s face. He let out a scream as the expedition leader fell to the ground with a thud.
The Frenchman instinctively started running. His frozen feet were trudging through the blood-splattered snow when a gust of wind sent him barrelling to the ground. He lifted his face from the snow and noticed that in the blink of an eye Superman had torn through the rest of the group. They hadn’t even had time to scream. Pierre’s heart was pounding in his mouth as the red eyes of Superman rested on him.
Pierre screamed out for mercy in every language he could speak. He was using his hands to claw his way through the snow in vain as the Man of Steel approached him. His world turned upside down suddenly as Superman lifted him from the ground as easily as if he were weightless.
Superman stared down at the dangling Frenchman through blood-red eyes that were teeming with malice. “Where are the Fantastic Four?”
