Superman Vs. Doctor Doom

The riverfront power station’s warning lights blinked in perfect time with the pulse beating through Clark Kent’s skull.

He stood on the roof of the Daily Planet, one hand braced against the stone globe while every radio in Metropolis crackled with the same metallic voice. Far below, traffic froze beneath green signals. Elevators stopped between floors. Along the Illinois-adjacent riverfront, the power grid surged bright enough to turn the water white.

“People of Earth,” said Doctor Doom. “Your systems have answered my call.”

Clark’s jaw tightened. His hearing reached past the broadcast, past the city’s sirens and the shouts rising from the streets. Transformers were popping along the river. Emergency generators coughed awake in hospitals. Somewhere beneath the towers, steel screamed as an overloaded cable snapped.

The signal was not merely coming through Metropolis.

It was inside the city.

Clark pulled his glasses from his face and dropped them onto the roof. “Not today.”

He stepped into empty air.

The suit appeared beneath his clothes in a blur of blue and red, and Superman crossed the distance to the riverfront before the first shock wave reached downtown. Wind tore at his cape as he descended toward the power station. Its transmission tower was wrapped in green-black machinery that had not been there an hour ago, armored rings locked around the steel like enormous claws.

A second tower rose from the roof of the neighboring substation. Then a third. Each throbbed with the same sickly light.

Superman landed hard enough to crack the concrete. Heat rolled over his boots. Copper cables writhed across the ground, sparking through puddles left by a ruptured cooling pipe.

“Central control, shut down the riverfront grid,” he said, turning toward the station doors. “Do not wait for authorization.”

A woman’s voice burst through a nearby emergency speaker. “We can’t. The controls are locked out.”

“Then cut the main breakers manually.”

“We have crews inside.”

Superman looked up.

Through the station’s glass walls, workers moved in frantic silhouettes between banks of machinery. One panel exploded, showering the room with orange sparks. The workers ducked, but the lights above them flared brighter.

The broadcast continued.

“Every relay, every satellite, every network built to connect your world has become an instrument of Doom. When the final carrier wave rises, Earth will answer as one.”

Superman drove his fist into the station doors. Reinforced steel folded inward. He caught the falling frame before it crushed the workers and lowered it aside.

“Get out!” he shouted.

The workers ran. One stumbled near a ruptured conduit. Superman reached him before the man hit the floor, lifting him by the back of his jacket and carrying him clear as blue fire crawled across the machinery.

“Who are you?” the man gasped.

“Someone who needs this place quiet.”

Superman crossed the control room in three strides. The central console had been gutted and rebuilt around a black metal core. Symbols glowed across its surface - sharp, angular marks that seemed to shift whenever he looked directly at them.

Doom’s voice lowered, filling the room through every speaker.

“Superman.”

The machinery answered with a deep metallic hum.

“You have arrived precisely when expected.”

Superman’s eyes narrowed. “Show yourself.”

A green mask formed above the core in a lattice of light. The iron face was expressionless, but the voice carried cold satisfaction.

“Your speed is impressive. Your understanding is not. This city is only the first instrument.”

“What did you put in the grid?”

“A command.”

The core pulsed. Across the room, monitors flickered to life. Images appeared from other cities: towers in darkness, airports locked in emergency shutdown, bridges glowing with strange green lines. The images vanished before Superman could study them.

Doom continued, “Metropolis will transmit the activation sequence to every system on Earth.”

Superman seized the black core. It burned through his gloves with heat that felt less like fire than pressure, as if the metal were trying to force his hands apart.

“Then I’ll stop it here.”

He pulled.

The core resisted. The floor buckled beneath his boots. Bolts tore loose from the walls, and the control room filled with a shriek of twisting metal.

“Remove that component,” said Doom, “and the city’s power will collapse.”

Superman glanced at the workers fleeing through the broken doors. Beyond them, the riverfront towers stood in a jagged line against the night. Thousands of windows glowed. Hospitals. Apartment buildings. The Planet.

“Collapse how?”

“Every transformer. Every elevator. Every life-support system connected to this network. You will save the world by killing a city.”

The core surged.

Superman released it just before the floor erupted. A ring of green energy blasted outward, throwing him through the station wall....