This is the ending you've been waiting for, folks! I'll have more to say at the end, so for now I'll just note that I'm imagining the Frank Miller version of Vicki Vale for reasons that may be obvious.
-
As usual, Vicki Vale was dictating a column while standing around her penthouse wearing lingerie. Though she was alone, she sauntered as if she was on a catwalk, swinging her hips and thrusting her breasts forward. If anyone had been able to see her, they'd have been drooling, but that was just how she worked.
At least, that had been the old business as usual. This was the first time she was trying again and Vicki was having trouble getting back into her groove. It wasn't enough to make her regret coming back to Gotham, but it was definitely throwing her off.
Vicki had gotten out safely at the first sign Gotham was going crazy, not long before things really went downhill. It had definitely been the right decision, letting her continue to advance her career instead of being threatened by all of Batman's idiotic thugs. And like all the other massive events in life, it had blown over and she'd returned. Her penthouse had even been mostly undamaged, though it had cost her a bundle to replace everything that had been looted.
Yet this time, it wasn't business as usual. Something was different, deeply changed in a way that she couldn't identify. Obviously Superman had become the city's absolute protector - everyone was remarkably calm about that fact - but there was something else she needed to put her finger on.
Or at the very least, she needed to get over it in order to write a saucy column for next week.
"Truth, justice, and the American way don't seem to be enough anymore for Gotham's new protector. If the rumors about Superman are to be believed, he's collecting - fuck, no, that's hackneyed." Vicki ran a hand through her shoulder-length red hair, tousling it further. "Hmm... This girl has always wondered just what Superman meant by 'Man of Steel' but I can't say I was expecting to hear... dammit."
No matter what she tried, it just didn't feel right. Vicki cursed under her breath and went to pull on her clothes. She could finish the column later. Right now it was more important to get ready for the event that night. Rumor had it that Superman would actually attend, and that was her chance to get the interview of a lifetime.
After trying on and discarding innumerable outfits, Vicki chose a white evening gown and headed out. She could actually have taken the new public transportation systems, but she couldn't stand being close to so many common people, so she took a cab.
Officially, the event wasn't much of anything important. Just a small memorial for Batman as the old signal was finally decommissioned - Gordon would make the new one official, the mayor would let Superman christen it, nothing would really change. Vicki had no idea why someone like Superman would deign to appear in honor of the winged rat madman, but considering how rarely he appeared, this might be her only chance.
When she arrived, Vicki was glad that she'd chosen the white gown. Though the ball wasn't packed, everyone there was among the most powerful in Gotham and they wore it on their sleeves. Dozens of impeccable suits and dresses, not to mention the trophy wives or husbands on their arms.
Vicki picked up a glass of champagne and strolled through the crowd, picking up a few quotes. Her dress might not be quite as expensive, but Vicki thought her body could compete with the best of them. A few of them had tried to come on to her in the past, but tonight they seemed distracted. That was understandable, given the glitz and glamor of-
Then Superman arrived and everything else paled in comparison.
He had the body of a god, of course, and eyes that could melt panties with a glance. Something had changed about his costume, though she couldn't put her finger on it: the colors were rich and deeply saturated, as if his power was bleeding over into the world around him. Instead of walking, he literally flew with his feet a few inches off the ground.
And on his arms were two women that put all the trophy wives to shame. Vicki had been hoping to get a confirmation about key criminals he'd allegedly converted to his side, but he'd brought two she barely recognized. The first was Nocturna, her unnaturally light skin striking in a pitch black gown. The second was a gorgeous woman with a beaming smile. It took quite a bit of searching her memory for Vicki to recognize her as a minor villain called Calendar Girl.
Though everyone paid attention when Superman arrived, they didn't remark on the fact that he had a woman on each arm. They barely even commented about how beautiful they were. It was well-known that superheroes were disproportionately attractive - something about the metagene interacting with other genes, Vicki had never cared about such petty details. Seeing two minor villains on display really drove the point home, though.
The way they held his arms, their hands curling around his biceps... there was no question in Vicki's mind that they were lovers. She couldn't concentrate during the ceremony, didn't take a single note on Superman's brief speech. All the mattered was getting a moment with him during the celebration afterwards to get to the bottom of it.
He was more somber than anyone, almost as if he missed the flying rat. His escorts agreed to dances with some of the other attendees, leaving him temporarily alone. Vicki practically shattered her glass tossing it aside as she tried to get across the ballroom to speak with him. Unfortunately, before she could work her way through the crowds, two young women approached him.
"Ten? Zoe?" Superman raised an eyebrow. "Why are you dressed like that?"
"We wanted to look our best when we met you for the first time."
"It's amazing to finally meet you, Superman," her companion agreed. Both of them giggled strangely and Superman smiled. Vicki would have assumed it was just the stupidity of all males next to attractive women, but his expression looked almost like he was smiling at some private joke.
"Can I help you two ladies with something?"
"We have
ever
so many questions..."
The two of them continued fawning over them, but though something about the interaction was off, Vicki couldn't put her finger on what it was. Superman drifted with them away from the ball, carefully saying his goodbyes, so Vicki followed him. She watched the young women carefully, trying to figure out if she needed to save them from Superman or save him from them.
Both were incredibly hot young things, a year or two over legal at most. The blond wore a low cut blouse and tiny skirt that suggested she knew exactly what she had and wanted to flaunt it. Her partner, the one Superman had called Zoe, was just as attractive in a dark haired and tan sort of way. Though her skirt was just as short, she wore a Superman t-shirt, her breasts distorting the symbol.
There were Superman groupies now? Vicki followed them outside and saw that Superman was taking them toward a dark limousine - one of those formerly owned by Wayne, Vicki realized. Since the two sluts were still chattering and giggling, Vicki decided not to intervene. Let them make their own stupid decisions.
