Generations 1: The Son Rises
Once upon a time, a phrase was coined.
This is a job for Superman.
It was that simple. It was those times when the entire world was threatened. When everything else had been tried, and fell short. When nothing but the best, the iconic, the 100% effort would save the day. When a line needed to be drawn between right and wrong.
Jon saw his father with telescopic vision, and his heart was as torn in two as when he first watched his father dying. Despair, anger, hopelessness, grief all washed over him. He fell to his knees, fighting back tears.
It wasn't that Jon had ever dreamed of trying to step out of his father's shadow, or even of filling his boots someday. No. Jon dreamed, fought and strove to be worthy to live in that huge shadow. To deserve the 'S'.
He can't help but feel like he's failed, again, and again lately. There was Svalin - and his shortsightedness. And the deaths. He couldn't stop them, as hapless and helpless as everyone else. Not being able to give his sister and mother the shoulder they needed to cry on, or any answers.
And now - he saw his father, and wasn't sure he could do it.
That was less than a minute ago. Tormented as he was - they needed him. His power was considerable, but that wasn't it. The thing he'd always strove for - to deserve to wear the big red 'S' - he's always understood, it didn't just mean Kryptonian power. Plenty of the JLA had that. It meant, at some level, things were going to be ok. That there was a shield between the world and the worst. Whether he deserves it or not, Jon wears it now, proudly and openly.
He's flying as fast as he can when he barrels into his father's back full strength, not holding back in the least. A moment ago, even the thought of this fight wracked him with guilt and pain. Now - he's needed. And there's only two things the Black Lanterns can read off of the Son of Steel...
he, personally, has a core of utter WILL
and is ringed with an almost blinding, radiant nimbus of HOPE
Because, this?
This is a job for Superman.
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