[Third Person POV]
If you don't mind us asking, if you don't want to be feared, why become Superman to start with?" Samuel questioned, leaning forward with genuine interest shining in his eyes. "What motivated you to don the cape and fly around saving people? Surely there must have been something—some spark—that pushed you to step into that role?"
Clark exhaled slowly, a soft sigh escaping his lips as his eyes drifted closed. It wasn't the first time he had been asked that question, and deep down, he knew it would never be the last. Everyone wanted to know why. Everyone wanted to understand the man behind the emblem. After a pause, his voice came low and steady.
"Some people might view the powers and abilities I possess as a blessing," he began, his tone carrying the weight of experience. "But what they don't realize… what they never wonder about, are the negative effects. The burdens that come with such abilities."
As he spoke, sharing everything he had shared with the military, his posture shifted. He leaned forward in his seat, the cup of tea he'd been nursing now balanced carefully in his hand. His thumb traced the rim absentmindedly, a small, repetitive motion that betrayed his tension. His eyes fell to the amber liquid, his reflection shimmering faintly on the surface.
"I've learned to control most of my powers," he continued, his voice quieter, more intimate, as though confessing a secret. "I can rein in my hearing, dull it when I need to… but that doesn't mean the voices stop. They never truly stop. I'm always aware of them—the cries, the whispers, the pleas. They are constant. A never-ending tide of sound and suffering. And though I can't silence them completely, I found that by being who I am—by being Superman—I can ease that noise. I can make sure they aren't as loud, that they aren't as overwhelming as they once were."
He took a small sip of his tea, though it seemed more out of habit than thirst, his gaze still fixed on the swirling reflection within the cup.
Lois shifted slightly in her chair, her fingers tightening around her notepad. She swallowed the lump in her throat before clearing it gently. Her eyes softened, hesitant, but she pressed forward.
"Has…" her voice wavered, but she steadied it, "…has there ever been someone you couldn't save? A voice you couldn't reach in time?"
The room grew unbearably quiet. Clark lowered his cup with deliberate care, setting it on the table beside him as though the act itself demanded his full concentration. He pressed his thumbs against his forehead, eyes closed, shoulders tense. When he finally answered, his voice was low, solemn, and heavy.
"Yes."
The single word was sharp, final, and it carried more weight than an entire speech. Samuel's brows furrowed as he glanced briefly at Lois. Both could feel the shift in the atmosphere, the raw grief lingering unspoken in that one syllable.
Clark inhaled deeply and went on. "A little girl…" His voice faltered, and for a moment he had to collect himself. "I won't share the details—they're too gruesome, too cruel—but know that I failed her. I couldn't forgive myself then, and I still can't now. Maybe I never will. That failure taught me a lesson I carry every day: no matter how powerful I am, no matter how much I try, I can't save everyone. And… that truth came at the price of an innocent child's life."
Samuel straightened, his jaw tightening, his expression hard but respectful. "You have our condolences," he said simply, the words carrying weight.
Lois's heart ached as she reached forward, hesitating before gently pressing pause on the recorder. "Okay," she said softly, "off the record… do you need a moment? We can stop here if you'd like. Take a recess."
Clark leaned back, shoulders sagging as though the confession had drained some invisible reservoir inside him. He gave a tired smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "No," he said firmly, "I'm fine. We can continue the interview."
Samuel studied him closely, then gestured to the recorder. "We can cut that part out if you'd prefer. Leave it off the record entirely."
Clark shook his head slowly. "No. Leave it in. People need to hear it. They need to know I'm no god—that I fail, that I make mistakes. They need to understand I'm not perfect. I never was nor will I ever be."
Samuel exchanged a glance with Lois before giving her a small nod. She pressed the button again, trying to be as professional as she could be. "Back on record…" she said smoothly.
The weight of Clark's words lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating. Lois, ever perceptive, knew the conversation needed redirection, so she offered him an out.
"For a change of topic," she said gently, "let's talk about something lighter. For example, your super-pet that sometimes accompanies you during your ventures. Care to tell us about this 'Superdog' of yours?"
The corners of Clark's mouth twitched upward into the faintest smile, the heaviness in the room easing ever so slightly. "What's there for me to say?" he replied with a small chuckle. "You've heard the saying—'a dog is a man's best friend.' That couldn't be more true in my case. He's been by my side since I was just a baby. My parents… they sent him along with me so I wouldn't have to grow up alone. With him around, I never truly feel lonely. And I don't think I ever will."
Both Samuel and Lois felt their own smiles return as the mood shifted. They continued with lighter questions—his hobbies, his favorite pastimes, simple details about his life that made him seem more human, more approachable. The conversation flowed easier now, the earlier tension fading with every answer.
It wasn't long before Samuel leaned forward again, his curiosity piqued. "Now," he said, circling back carefully, "returning to the topic of aliens. Your presence alone confirms their existence beyond any shadow of a doubt. But tell me, Superman—are there others? Are there other beings like you already living among us?"
"Yes, I've encountered a few…" Clark admitted after a pause, his tone carrying a hint of hesitation. He shifted in his seat, clearly weighing his words. The answer itself was simple, but he knew the implications were anything but. A revelation like that could stir public paranoia, and he couldn't predict how such knowledge would shape the future.
Lois immediately jumped in, her curiosity pressing forward. "And when you say a few… how many exactly is that?"
Clark gave a small shrug, attempting to downplay the number. "About six," he answered casually, as if saying it more lightly would soften the blow. His mind, however, replayed each encounter, each face, each clash. He excluded himself and Krypto, obviously.
Samuel leaned forward, his voice low and probing. "And what were your encounters with them like? Are these beings still out there—still among us somewhere on this planet?" His tone carried a mysterious edge, as though he expected hidden truths just beneath the surface.
Clark let out a sigh as he spoke. "Most of them have been hostile," he admitted, "I've sent the majority back into space, exiled them where they came from. But not without warning. Each of them knows this planet is under my protection." He offered a small, weary smile, though it carried little humor.
Lois's pen scratched furiously against her notepad before she stopped, her words spilling out rapid-fire. "And when you say hostile, does that mean you fought with them? Did they give you trouble? And more importantly—did they take your warning as a serious deterrent, or as a challenge? Because one could argue your actions might invite greater danger. You might be strong enough to stand against them, but ordinary people aren't. If they were to come back, armed with technology far beyond our own, what chance would humanity have? You are just one man, Superman. Do you truly believe you could stop an entire alien invasion alone?"
The barrage left the air thick with tension. Clark slowly raised his brow, his lips twitching in faint irritation. "Will you allow me to answer the questions," he asked dryly, his voice laced with sarcasm, "or do you still have more you need to get off your chest first?"
Lois blinked, sheepish at being called out so directly. A nervous chuckle escaped her as she rubbed the back of her head, murmuring, "Right… sorry."
Samuel kept his gaze fixed on Clark, clearly more interested in the answers than Lois's flurry of questions.
Clark exhaled through his nose, then spoke with quiet resolve. "Let's see… Yes, I fought with them. No, they didn't give me too much trouble. Whether they took my warning as a threat or as a challenge… that remains to be seen. But don't underestimate humanity. People are far stronger than you give them credit for. They're not as fragile as you believe. As for whether I could stop an invasion alone… we'll only know if that day ever comes. But I promise you this: as long as my heart still beats, I will never stop fighting."
Silence settled after his words, the gravity of his declaration lingering in the air. Clark broke it himself with a soft sigh as his gaze drifted toward the window. His expression shifted, faintly distant, as though already sensing something tugging him elsewhere. "I think that's enough for today, don't you?" he said gently. "I can't waste all my time here. The world needs me."
"One more question before you go!" Lois called quickly, almost pleading, her eyes locking onto his.
Clark groaned under his breath, shaking his head slightly before resigning. His shoulders slumped as he muttered, "Fine. Just one last question. Make it count."
Lois inhaled deeply, mimicking her father and trying to be professional. "Due to the recent Kaiju attack, people are going to be questioning your decision to spare the monster's life. Many see it as a looming threat that could strike again at any time. Now, my question is this: what is your response to the backlash you'll inevitably face for letting such a creature live?"
Samuel leaned back, nodding in quiet approval. He admired the angle, how neatly it tied into recent events.
Clark straightened, his voice clear and unwavering. "My response is simple. That creature was not acting out of malice—it was a mother searching for its young, which had been taken from her. I believe many parents will understand that desperation, that instinct. The Kaiju is not inherently evil, and I saw no reason to condemn it to death for doing what any parent would do. My actions were done out of compassion. And compassion… compassion isn't something that should only extend to humans. It should reach all living things, no matter how large or small, no matter the species or where they come from."
His voice grew stronger now, carrying the weight of an ideal. "I hope people learn from this. To extend their compassion outward. To help one another. To not let race, or species, or appearance dictate who is deserving of kindness."
Samuel slowly reached forward, pressing the stop button on the recorder. The soft click echoed in the heavy silence that followed. "And done," he said, leaning back with a small smile. "That concludes the interview. And I have to say, that message at the end… it was beautifully said, Superman."
Clark only gave a faint nod, his expression unreadable as his eyes drifted once more to the light outside the window.
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