The Bonus Round - Superman's Soap Opera Entry
Then reality hiccupped again.
Not the usual cosmic hiccup they'd gotten used to—this was different. More... targeted. Like someone was copy-pasting something from one universe into another without bothering to check if the formatting was compatible.
The God reappeared, and if a cosmic entity of impossible geometry could look amused, this one definitely did.
"You have performed exceptionally," the God said, its voice resonating with satisfaction. "Your coordination, your creativity, your adaptability—all beyond expectation. Therefore, I grant you... a reward."
Tony perked up. "Ooh, rewards! I like rewards! Is it more cosmic power? Better armor? A cosmic dog for each of us?"
Doremano barked indignantly.
"Your reward," the God continued, "is reinforcement. Another champion to join your ranks."
Thor frowned. "Another? From where?"
"From there," the God said simply, gesturing.
A rift opened—not the usual dimensional tear, but something more like a cosmic doorway being kicked open without warning. And through it tumbled...
Superman.
But not combat-ready, cape-billowing, heroic-pose Superman.
Showering Superman.
Clark Kent materialized in mid-air, soap foam strategically covering his private parts, a loofah still in one hand, shampoo in his hair, and an expression of absolute bewilderment on his face. Water droplets floated around him in zero gravity, creating an inadvertent sparkly effect.
"WHAT—" Superman started, his voice echoing across multiple dimensions.
There was a moment of perfect silence.
Then Tony lost it.
"BAHAHAHA!" He doubled over, his armor's speakers broadcasting his laughter across the arena. "JARVIS! JARVIS, TELL ME YOU'RE RECORDING THIS!"
"Every glorious second, sir."
"OH MY GOD!" Tony gasped between laughs. "The Man of Steel! The Last Son of Krypton! Defender of Truth, Justice, and the American Way! COVERED IN SOAP!"
Thor was trying very hard to maintain his dignity, but his shoulders were shaking. "I... I apologize, friend, but this is..."
"Hilarious," Loki finished, not even trying to hide his grin. "This is the best thing I've seen in centuries."
Black Adam had turned away, but his back was suspiciously trembling.
Even Doremano's bark sounded like laughter.
Superman looked down at himself, at the soap foam, at the loofah, then up at the impossibly large cosmic entity floating above him.
"I was in the shower," he said with remarkable calm, given the circumstances. "In my apartment. In Metropolis. Two seconds ago."
"Correct," the God said, completely unfazed by the situation it had created. "Time is relative. Space is fluid. Showers are... temporary."
"I'm NAKED!"
"Technically, you are covered in cleansing foam. There is a difference."
"Not much of one!" Superman's face was turning red—not from embarrassment (okay, maybe a little from embarrassment), but mostly from sheer confusion.
Tony was still laughing. "Oh man, oh man, I wish Batman could see this. Actually, no—if Batman saw this, he'd have a contingency plan for it, and that would somehow make it less funny."
The God raised one impossible appendage, and suddenly its voice became more serious:
"Clark Kent. Kal-El. Superman. You have been chosen to join these Cosmic Champions. Your strength, your virtue, your unwavering moral compass—these qualities are needed for the trials ahead."
Superman was still processing. "Trials? Cosmic Champions? What are you—"
"But first," the God interrupted, "we cannot have you fighting in... soap foam. That would be undignified."
"NOW you're worried about dignity?!" Superman sputtered.
The God waved its hand, and Superman's shower situation resolved itself in the most absurd way possible. The soap foam didn't disappear—it reorganized, flowing across his body like liquid metal, solidifying into...
A temporary suit made entirely of soap.
It looked exactly like his normal Superman suit—red cape, blue suit, red boots, the iconic S-shield on his chest—except it was made of gleaming, slightly iridescent soap foam that sparkled in the starlight.
"There," the God said. "Dignified."
"I'M WEARING A SOAP SUIT!" Superman looked down at himself in horror.
"A very heroic soap suit," the God corrected.
Tony had collapsed onto a floating platform, his armor's life support systems working overtime because he literally couldn't breathe from laughing. "JARVIS... save... multiple copies... of this footage... EVERYWHERE!"
"Already distributed to seventeen secure servers, sir. And I've taken the liberty of creating a highlight reel."
"GOOD BOT!"
The God's presence intensified, and suddenly its voice carried weight that made everyone stop laughing:
"But you are not ready, Superman. Your powers, formidable in your universe, are insufficient here. You face enemies that bend reality, manipulate probability, consume stars. You need... enhancement."
Before Superman could respond, the God reached out and touched his chest—right on the soap-foam S-shield.
The effect was instantaneous and spectacular.
Superman's eyes glowed—not his normal heat vision red, but a brilliant gold that made nearby stars look dim. His body radiated energy that made the vacuum of space shimmer. The soap suit (somehow) began to gleam with power.
Knowledge flooded into Clark's mind—not learned, but downloaded. He suddenly understood quantum mechanics, dimensional theory, probability mathematics, energy field manipulation. He could perceive things he'd never seen before: the fundamental forces underlying reality, the quantum foam that existed between atoms, the gravitational waves that rippled through spacetime.
His strength, already godlike, multiplied exponentially. His speed increased beyond anything he'd thought possible. His heat vision could now target things across dimensions. His freeze breath could drop temperatures to absolute zero and below (into negative temperature states that normal physics said shouldn't exist).
But more than that—his powers became flexible. Where before he could fly, now he could manipulate gravitational fields. Where before he had heat vision, now he could control the entire electromagnetic spectrum. Where before he was invulnerable, now he could phase between dimensions to avoid attacks entirely.
"Whoa," Superman breathed, staring at his hands as energy crackled between his fingers.
"You are now elevated," the God said with satisfaction. "You are worthy of the title Cosmic Champion."
Then the God paused, as if remembering something.
"Oh, and regarding your actual suit..."
The God snapped its fingers (or the cosmic equivalent), and Superman's real suit—his actual, non-soap Kryptonian suit from his apartment—materialized out of thin air, along with his cape.
But it wasn't the same suit anymore.
The fabric (Kryptonian textile that was already nearly indestructible) had been enhanced with cosmic energy. The S-shield glowed with soft light that seemed to exist across multiple wavelengths simultaneously. The cape didn't just flow—it moved with dimensional awareness, existing partially in normal space and partially in probability space.
The suit phased onto Superman's body, replacing the soap-foam costume in a shimmer of light. The soap didn't fall away—it just ceased to exist, as if the universe had decided it had served its purpose and moved on.
Superman flexed experimentally, and space around him rippled. "This is... I feel... I've never felt power like this."
"That is because you now perceive reality at a fundamental level," the God explained. "You see the universe as it truly is, not merely as light reflected into your eyes. You are no longer simply strong—you are cosmically attuned."
"And you got here via soap portal," Tony added, finally recovering enough to sit up. "Never forget that part."
"I'm NEVER going to forget that part," Superman said ruefully.
The God turned to Tony. "Stark. Provide context. He needs to understand what has occurred and what he faces."
"On it!" Tony stood up, activating holographic displays. "Okay, Clark—can I call you Clark? I'm calling you Clark. Here's the situation."
Tony's fingers danced across holographic controls, and suddenly data began streaming directly toward Superman's mind—not as video, but as pure information, direct neural download facilitated by the cosmic enhancements they'd all received.
Superman's eyes widened as months of experiences downloaded into his brain in seconds:
The God's appearance. The impossible arena. The initial trials against cosmic predators. The fight against the living singularity. Thor learning to tear open dimensional rifts. Black Adam's sentient lightning. Loki's probability manipulation. Doremano the cosmic god-dog and his gravity-defying tail wags. The perfect coordination they'd achieved.
All of it flowed into Clark's consciousness like memories he'd always had but had somehow forgotten.
"That's... that's insane," Superman said, processing the information flood. "You fought a singularity? Reality-warping predators?"
"Welcome to Tuesday," Tony said cheerfully. "Actually, I've lost track of what day it is. Time is weird here. JARVIS?"
"Sir, by my calculations, it's simultaneously Wednesday, never, and the color purple."
"See? Weird."
Superman looked around at the assembled team—Thor with his dimension-ripping hammer, Black Adam crackling with prescient lightning, Loki radiating probability distortions, Doremano wagging his gravity-manipulating tail, Alien X existing in states between real and unreal.
"So... I'm on the team now?"
"Welcome aboard!" Tony extended a hand. "More hands are always welcome. Especially super-powered, cosmically enhanced, recently-soap-covered hands."
"Are you ever going to let that go?"
"Never. Not in a million years. JARVIS has it saved in seventeen locations."
"Twenty-three now, sir. I've made backups."
Superman sighed but shook Tony's hand anyway. The handshake created a small shockwave as their cosmic energies interacted.
"Okay, so what do I need to know?" Superman asked.
Thor floated over, grinning. "We are Cosmic Champions, friend Superman! We fight impossible enemies with impossible powers! We coordinate like a well-oiled machine! We improvise reality itself!"
"We also joke a lot," Loki added. "It helps with the cosmic horror."
"And we have a dog," Tony said, gesturing to Doremano. "A cosmic dog who can manipulate gravity and is adorable."
Doremano barked happily and trotted over to Superman. The Man of Steel knelt down and scratched behind the dog's ears—an action that created minor spacetime ripples but was still endearing.
"Good boy," Superman said automatically.
The dog's tail wagged, creating a gravitational pulse that made Superman float a few inches off the ground.
"Okay, that's new," Clark said.
"You get used to it," Tony assured him. "JARVIS, bring Superman up to speed on our power coordination protocols."
More data downloaded into Superman's consciousness—tactical formations, energy harmonization frequencies, probability manipulation ethics (Loki's section was surprisingly detailed), dimensional rift navigation safety, and what Tony called the "Doremano Unpredictability Factor."
"This is... comprehensive," Superman said, absorbing the information.
"We're professionals," Tony said. "Ridiculous, improvising, soap-portal-summoning professionals, but professionals nonetheless."
Black Adam approached, his lightning crackling softly. "Your power is considerable, Superman. With cosmic enhancement, you may be one of our strongest assets."
"May be?" Tony interjected. "Clark can punch planets. PLANETS. That's definitely top-tier."
"I prefer not to punch planets," Superman said. "It's bad for the planets."
"See? He even has hero morals! He'll fit right in!"
The God's voice boomed across the arena one last time before fading:
"Prepare yourselves, Champions. The next trial approaches. And Superman... welcome to forces beyond your imagination."
The God dissolved into cosmic background radiation, leaving the team floating in the repaired arena.
Superman looked at his new teammates—this bizarre collection of heroes, tricksters, champions, and one very enthusiastic cosmic dog.
"So," he said finally, "does anyone want to explain why there's a dog that manipulates gravity?"
"No one knows," Thor said. "Not even the dog, I suspect."
Doremano barked, which somehow sounded like agreement.
"And we just... fight cosmic threats together?"
"Pretty much," Tony confirmed. "We improvise, we coordinate, we bend reality a little bit, and we try not to destroy too many universes in the process."
"Try?"
"We're at zero destroyed universes so far. Perfect record."
"That's... good?"
"That's GREAT!" Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the Cosmic Champions, Clark. Fair warning: it's going to get weirder from here."
Superman looked at his new cosmic-enhanced suit, felt the impossible power flowing through him, thought about the fact that he'd been yanked from his shower via cosmic intervention and given powers beyond anything he'd imagined.
"Weirder than arriving via soap portal?"
"So much weirder," Tony confirmed.
"Wonderful," Superman said dryly.
But despite everything—the absurdity, the cosmic horror, the soap incident that would apparently never be forgotten—Clark Kent smiled.
Because if there were threats to reality itself, threats that required cosmic-level power to face...
Well, at least he wouldn't be facing them alone.
Even if his entrance into this team would be remembered as "that time Superman showed up covered in soap."
"JARVIS?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Start editing that highlight reel. I'm thinking dramatic music, slow-motion soap bubbles, the works."
"Already on it, sir."
"I hate you all," Superman said without heat.
"You'll get used to that too," Loki assured him.
And with that, the Cosmic Champions—now seven strong (eight if you counted Doremano separately, which you should)—prepared for whatever impossible challenge came next.
Together.
Even if one of them had arrived via the universe's most embarrassing teleportation method.