1 Red Dusk

Superman: Mythos #1 "Red Dusk"

A red sun burned in the sky. It seared the clouds and the scorched earth below in its unrepenting crimson hue. It covered the already rust-colored peaks and dry canyons, the vast stretches of desert and empty basins. On one such red crag, the last son of Krypton stood alone.

His face was weathered, not with age, but with weary. Like the red ground his boots tread, his skin was cracked, his lips were dry. His bright blue eyes were sunken and shadowed. His dark hair had grown long and unkept, furling down into a thick, greasy beard that hid his chin. His iconic suit had not fared much better. It was ripped and tattered, cut away at the shoulders and knees. The remains of his cape he wore across his shoulders, covering one arm like a western shawl. Instead, what flowed forth from his shoulders, flapping in the sand-packed wind, was no cape, but a fur. It was the skin of a once great beast, whose lion-like mane he wore as a hood. And strung to his golden belt, was a shimmering steel sword, Amazonian in its craft. The House of El's crest still remained, displayed proudly across his chest. All hope was yet to be lost.

A dozen or so yards behind him, an emerald-clad feminine figure approached. She walked with an inflated swagger, her yellow cape and fiery hair flowing to her side. The wicked grin of conquest was painted across her face. As she came near, Clark's head hung low and his eyes closed in defeat. His fists clenched, but they held nowhere near enough power to stand against her's. She came up beside him and wrapped her arms tightly around his bicep. She smirked up at him, but his solemn gaze held firm. She tugged him away from the cliffside he stood upon and led him back from whence she came. Lady Maxima, Queen of Almerac finally had the Man of Steel all to herself.

The two made their way towards a building in the distance, a massive metallic fortress built into the side of a red mountain. It was a military base of some kind that now lay deserted and in disrepair. Once inside, Clark found himself again looking out onto the horizon. The red sun now began to dip beneath the distant mountain peaks, blanketing the Mars-like terrain in warm violet. With the light of the hostile star fading, the image of a ringed planet became clear, filling nearly half the sky. He knelt on a cold metal window sill, as the last of the crimson light cut through the darkness of the makeshift master bedroom. Behind him, Maxima lay lounging across their rather lavish bed which contrasted the bleak metal room. She let out an exaggerated sigh, as she turned her body to face him. She positioned herself suggestively, despite knowing it was for not. Unfortunately for her, his will had yet to falter as his strength had. It was truly more than physical might that made him super.

"Do you know how long it has been, Kal-El?" Maxima spoke, her sultry voice balancing on a razor's edge, one breath away from furious anger. "And just how much longer do you intend to make me wait for my heir?"

Clark looked down, diverting his eyes from the horizon. "I've lost track," he said simply.

"No you haven't," Maxima said, the fact made her lips curl into a grin. "You've counted every Earth day that's passed without their hero, their guardian, their Superman... Ha! All because you do not wish to sully your own ego by lying with me, a barbarian," she paused, letting him linger on the label he once granted her. She failed to see her own actions as they were, how they now surpassed mere barbarity. She didn't seem to care. "Every breath you take on this moon, another one of your precious humans dies on Earth. So tell me, Man of Steel. Is tonight the night you end their suffering?"

Clark sighed, stepping down from the window sill. "Very well Maxima..." he began, clutching his lion-skin cloak. Then, in a single stroke, he threw it off along with his shirt, revealing his muscular form beneath. "You win."

Maxima's eyes widened, gazing upon the Man of Steel from top to bottom before stepping forth from the bed. She approached him hesitantly, a smile again forming. The moment she'd been waiting for had finally arrived. She bit her bottom lip and hummed with glee. "At long last...You come to your senses, Superman..." she spoke while running her hands up his powerful arms. She leaned in close, "I will inform my people once we are finished and they will give you an escort back to that rock you call home. As promised."

Clark said nothing. He merely accepted her embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. He looked down into her vibrant green eyes, before closing his, and laying his lips upon hers.

"Mhmm...Oh?" Maxima sneered as their lips clashed. "Or perhaps you'd like to stay awhile longer..."

14 days, 12 hours, 42 minutes. That's how long, Clark thought to himself as he laid across from Maxima. She was sprawled out, taking up most of the room on the bed and tied up in every inch of its sheets. Her hair was frazzled, her skin was moist with sweat, and her mouth lay open, drooling. She was utterly exhausted and out cold. That's how long I've been trapped on this old Almeracian moon base...

Clark sat up in bed, turning to take a look at the unconscious Maxima, before getting up to dress. Slipping back into his suit and throwing his lion-skin cloak over his shoulders, he quietly exited the room. He entered a dark metal hallway, lined with rust and sand. He made his way down the hall and into another, then through yet another.

According to what's left of the base's archives, this place was abandoned long ago, along with the entire star system after a failed attempt at invasion. Both sides nuked each other into oblivion, rendering every inhabitable planet and moon in the system barren and desolate.

I initially tried rewiring the comm systems, archaic as they were. But Maxima wasn't bluffing, the base's radio waves were only powerful enough to reach neighboring systems. And the only known inhabited one was Almerac. I was utterly alone... But, I've found myself in stickier situations before...

After multiple twists and turns around the maze-like facility, Clark arrived at a rattling staircase that descended into pure darkness. Though every step he took was traced, as he had walked them many times before.

After communications were a bust, I began exploring the base for anything that might be of use. All while the good Lady Maxima slept, of course.

At the foot of the long stairwell stood a metal door, red light gleaming through its seams. An old control panel laid to its right, which had previously been busted into with its wires exposed. Clark took two of the frayed wires, a red and a blue. He tapped their copper fibers together, igniting a spark, and with it, the door slid open.

Eventually, my exploration bore fruit. I'd found my raft. Though there was still much to be done. Each night, I buried myself in my work. Teaching myself as I went. Failing mostly, succeeding where I could. In fact, it reminded me a whole lot of Pa's old pickup. And it was just as darn stubborn.

Nevertheless, today was the day. It had to be. Today was the day...

Clark walked out into the dawning light, onto a rickety metal ledge. He held onto its railing and looked out upon a large hangar bay below. Sand blew in from the massive garage entrance. Across the floor, machines laid in disrepair, and parts of ships were strewn about. Yet, at the far end of the hangar, a single shuttle stood. It was seemingly complete, or at least all in one piece, with a tarp draped over its body. Sitting beside it were freshly used tools and recently scavenged parts, along with barrels of stale fuel.

...I would fly again.

Clark slid down an old ladder and landed on the dusty hangar floor, beginning to make his way towards the shuttle. A slight smile managed to form on his weathered face as he came up beside his project. Taking both hands, he clutched the tarp and pulled it off the shuttle. It was a hunk of junk, barely held together by scraps, loose bolts, and exposed wiring. It was small, more of a missile than a full-blown rocket. It had a single, glass-covered cockpit with a cramped seat inside facing a simplistic control column. Clark was proud of it nonetheless. He stepped forth onto the ladder leading into the open cockpit. This was it, his moment had arrived.

"Kal-El!" Maxima roared.

Clark lowered his chin before he turned, one foot mounted on the edge of the cockpit, fully prepared to board. He saw her in the corner of his eye, standing atop the ledge overlooking the hangar. He could sense her anger boiling over, but he neither had the strength nor time to deal with it.

"What is it you think you are doing?!" She shouted, her fists crushing the metal railing she leaned upon.

Clark then turned to face her fully, his face calm and neutral. "I was just leaving, your highness," he said in equal measure.

Maxima growled before leaping down from the ledge and landing on the hangar floor with massive force, giving the ground a shake. She stood and unsheathed her sword before preparing to charge at Clark. "Foolish Kryptonian. Don't you understand? Here you are powerless against me! Lady Maxima! Ruler of all Almerac! You'll regret this treasonous act!"

As she approached, Clark lifted up a make-shift detonator device in his hand. His expression shifted to one of anger, but not an overbearing rage, rather one of disappointment. "I'd say it's been fun but..." He said solemnly. "It hasn't." He pressed the button on the detonator. A click sounded, followed by the sound of a charging battery. Then, suddenly, the floor Maxima ran upon lit up with sparks. Maxima screamed in pain as she was viciously shocked by the sudden surge of electricity. Half the floor of the hangar had been wired like an electric fence, and she was the wild dog.

Clark tossed the detonator to the side, his safety measure proving effective against the warrior queen. He then stepped fully into the shuttle's cockpit, the glass shield sealing him in. With a few flips of nobs and button presses on the control column, the rockets ignited. The force abruptly jolted the shuttle forward, Clark having to adjust his steering so as to not careen into the floor. "Not to worry, just another spaceship..." Clark said to himself, angling the shuttle skyward. Behind him, fire from the engines engulfed the back of the hangar, melting the walls and burning the various ship parts. A few small explosions went off, with bigger ones no doubt to follow. The sudden destruction disabled his electrical field, freeing Maxima. She fell to her knees, her body sizzling with lingering heat. She snapped her head up to see Clark deliver a friendly wave, before pushing forward on the shuttle's steering. In another fiery blast from the engines, his shaky ship launched forth. It flew out of the hangar and into the red sky, pieces of metal already shearing off its rusty body.

Maxima growled with anger, leaping to her feet and following the shuttle's trail of smoke outside the hangar. She ran out onto the crimson desert sand, watching as he flew higher and higher into the moon's atmosphere. She gave chase, but it was no use, he soon vanished out into open space. Maxima halted and activated the Almeracian communication device on her wrist.

"Come in High Council, this is your Queen. My betrothed has escaped. I require immediate evac," Maxima radioed in, back to her homeworld. She paused for a moment when there wasn't an immediate reply. "Ahem, I repeat, this is Queen Maxima requesting immediate evacuation!"

Meanwhile, in the pale green skies above Almerac, an armada of warships hovered. Each one crude in its sharp black and gray design, contrasting the classical architecture of the city below. Inside the royal palace, sat the invader prince on Maxima's throne, De'cine of the Krenon Empire. He was a towering brute, with four arms, each enhanced by cybernetic modifications. Over his hulking body, he wore even bulkier armor with metal plating and furs around his collar and waist. His face was ghoulish, his eyes in a perpetual scowl while his mouth was crammed with shark-like teeth that formed an unnerving smile. By his side sat Sazu, Maxima's once-loyal handmaiden. Now she wore one of her former mistress' ceremonial white dresses and sat contently beside the warlord as he stroked her pink beads of hair. The rest of the court was filled with the Almerac High Council, half of which were replaced upon De'cine's arrival, while the half that remained welcomed the change in leadership.

"I repeat-zzt-Queen Maxima-zzt-requesting evacuation!" The speakers of the palace's communications terminal echoed throughout the throne room. The Almeracian comms worker sat at the terminal in silence, letting the message play through. De'cine growled with delight but ceased once he watched Sazu rise and make her way over to the terminal.

"What do you think you are doing, my Queen?" He spoke, his voice just as monstrous as his appearance.

"Something I should have done a long time ago, my love," Sazu said, pressing the transceiver on the terminal controls, and initiating communication with the wayward queen. "I'm sorry, your highness... but the council has decided to extend your stay in the Pautovi System. Enjoy your little Kryptonian vanity project. I assure you, Almerac is now in much greater hands."

Author's Note:

"This is an imaginary story... Aren't they all?" - Alan Moore

But it is one based upon ancient Greek mythology as much as it is upon DC comics, if not more so. Specifically the works of Homer, namely The Odyessy. With this Superman story, I hope to go beyond little nods and direct parallels to the many trials and tribulations of the mythical hero, Odysseus (though there are many, bonus points if you can spot them all). I wanted to write this tale because I thought the Man of Steel was deserving of such an epic. You see, I do not see Superman as merely a comic book character. He has grown into something so, so much more. He is a myth, in the same vein as Heracles himself. As such, this is not an origin story or an 'evil Superman' story, as I'm sure we're all sick of at this point. No, this is an American Myth...