1 Month Ago...

The location was deceptively serene, a barren strip of desert sand resting under a still wind. Looking out of place in their wide-open surroundings two T-80 Russian tanks sat abandoned on the dunes, their tan chassises glinting dully below the blazing sun. Despite the presence of these empty war machines, the prevailing quiet gave the land a restful quality.

That peaceful silence was shattered as the high-pitched whistle of a falling bomb pierced the sky from above. It landed squarely between the two metal behemoths and dust erupted from the crater of its impact.

Yet there was no explosion; several seconds ticked by uneventfully.

Or at least so it seemed until the effects grew visible. As smoke started to rise from the armored vehicles, intense waves of heat wavered tangibly in the air. Before long the tanks' metal plates splintered and cracked while the nozzles of their turret guns slowly drooped downwards. Moments later the T-80s burst into flames and by the time the temperature cooled there was little but melted slag left on the now glassy sand.

The screen went blank as a thinly built man in a smart black suit cut the video feed, flashing the room's other occupant a sly smile. "What do you think, Mr. Popov? Interest you?"

"I don't know," the second man answered skeptically, folding large hands onto his lap as he lounged back in his chair, "Melting tanks is fine and good but not necessarily all that useful to me or my clients. There are other cheaper alternatives."

"Oh, the tanks were just for show, just to give you an idea," he assured him hurriedly before boasting, "Fully functional T-80s with heavy anti-ballistic armor reduced to mere puddles in little more than ten minutes."

"Yes, yes, I understand that," Popov said, "but if I wanted bombs I'd-"

"It's not the bomb that produced those results, but the unique weapon housed within. As you know the effect of any bomb or missile depends on the warhead. You can think if this one as something akin to depleted uranium shells. It's the uranium particles released through air that are so dangerous not the casing. The only difference is that what I'm offering you is far deadlier and far more versatile: a very dangerous, and extremely thorough chemical weapon, Mr. Popov. Used to full effect it could level a city, producing a complete meltdown of defense systems, power and communication grids, infrastructure, and of course population. Smaller, select targets are easily within its capabilities as well."

"Hmm. I must admit that the prospect fascinates me, my friend. Perhaps we do have something to speak about after all..."

"I thought you might see it that way," the thin man answered, an unpleasant grin forming below his thick white mustache, "I truly did."

Last night...

The air was chill as it blew in off the waters of Hob's Bay but Ted Lomax paid that little mind. He and the rest of the crew had a job to do and only so long in which to finish it. Their employer wanted this ship's cargo unloaded before dawn broke, and the dock workers were being paid very well to conduct their work beneath the moonlight. Ted had a sneaking suspicion about what was packed in these shipping crates but like everyone else he needed the money and knew those kind of questions were better left unasked.

"Go ahead!" one of the other workers called, giving a thumbs-up as he finished checking the harness for the large crane. The hydraulics whined as it started to raise one of the heavy crates off the small boat. Nearby on the docks two large unmarked trucks waited.

Ted lined his forklift with the next container, a short white metal cylinder, and waited as two other workers helped to load its heavy weight unto his machine.

"Hey, be careful with that one," instructed a heavyset man in a long black leather coat. He was not part of the loading crew but one of the tough-looking thugs their unnamed employer had sent along to supervise the operation. Ted thought the chances pretty high that they were packing heat under those concealing jackets but also figured he was probably better off not knowing for certain. The men signaled him that the container was secure and Lomax shifted the gears into reverse.

Ted was in the process of turning the forklift around when a loud snapping could be heard from above, like the sound of metal rending.

"Watch out!" one of the workmen yelled, pointing towards the sky. The right support chain on the crane had somehow torn asunder and the huge crate held within its harness began to hang unevenly. With a wrenching squeal its second set of chains proved unable to handle the weight on its own and the unsupported crate came plummeting back to the ship's deck.

Cries of alarm rang out as the heavy iron container struck a stack of similar boxes, snapping their restraints in turn and causing them to scatter in all directions. Ted watched in horror as one slid directly for him. It hit the forklift with enough force to shatter its casing, spewing semi-automatic weapons onto the deck. If he had still been fully conscious, Lomax might have recognized them as Kalashnikov rifles or AK-47s. But when the crate collided with his vehicle, Ted was tossed forward and his head struck the steering wheel with jarring force, leaving him dazed.

The collision resulted in other, more dire effects than Lomax's minor injuries. The strange white barrel he had been moving now bore a crack along its side and a low hissing spread as it quickly began to depressurize. The cracks widened with alarming speed and the man in the black coat screamed frantically, "Everyone get off the boat! Now! NOW!"

The fear in his voice sent men scrambling down the ship's ramps in droves. Amidst the rush Ted Lomax was forgotten and as he groggily reawakened a hand was lifted gingerly to his throbbing forehead to discover the moist texture of blood. Managing to pick up a loud hissing noise over the ringing in his ears Ted glanced to the container laying before his wrecked forklift. As his eyes focused he could see the growing fracture lines upon its stark white body and even as he watched, it burst, spewing its liquid contents forth in a violent spray.

Unable to escape their path Ted Lomax was doused by the escaping chemicals and for a few moments he knew only pain. Then blackness came. Within seconds the entire ship was aflame and the startled dock workers watched in stunned silence as it sunk below the tranquil night waters of Hob's Bay.

This morning...

Five metal giants clashed in mid-flight, sending sparks flying as blows were traded in a symphony of screeching metal. Even a casual observer would note, however, that it was hardly a fair fight. Four of the man-shaped machines were working in tandem against one, who weaved through their ranks with surprising agility given his cumbersome size and weight. All appeared to be exact replicas save for the bright red cape and bold 'S' monogram born by the solo fighter.

'Flight systems check, armor endurance levels stable,' Dr. John Henry Irons continued, ticking tests off from his mental list while calmly piloting his battle armor. 'Now for the real show,' he thought as the weapons systems powered up to full.

Targeting the nearest robot, Steel swooped directly towards it, swinging his hammer in a powerful left sweep. Killing its thrusters the automaton made to drop under his swing but Irons had predicted just that reaction and his left was followed through with an overhand assault. The downward blow connected in a tooth-rattling CRANG and his target went spiraling out of control until it crashed into the waiting ground.

In the meantime the other three drones had circled about and now rallied to strike their foe en masse. Three hammers, all similar to Irons' own, flew from their grips, hurtling down upon a single enemy. As they came within roughly a foot of their target they suddenly stopped in mid-air, engulfed by a field of crackling blue energy.

'Looks like that new magnetic shielding works as well,' Henry noted with satisfaction, 'but it's still draining my reserves too much.' The internal meters registered a severe power loss and as he deactivated the shield, the three hammers tumbled harmlessly to the earth. 'Lets see about the rest...'

Tossing his own hammer at the center robot, he then balled his fists and aimed his hands at a second letting free a concentrated burst from his enhanced microwave projectors. Both mechanical attackers were knocked backward; the third rushed onwards unmolested. As it came within striking distance of Steel, a red hued laser blast sizzled from his eyes, neatly searing the robots right arm from his torso. His thrown hammer returned just in time to remove its head in a shower of sparks.

'A touch excessive,' Irons told himself, 'but definitely looked good. Think its about time I ended this though.' As he headed to finish off the two remaining drones, still in the process of righting themselves from his previous attack, a sharp POP emitted from Steel's armor and a crackle of blue electricity jumped across his form. Suddenly his systems went off-line. Dead weight in the air, Steel plummeted to the earth like a cannonball.

"What the hell was that?" Dr. Irons asked himself aloud this time as he worked desperately to restart his suit. Nothing responded to his commands, however, and seconds later he struck the ground like an onrushing train. Fortunately, shock absorbers built into the armor kept Irons from being harmed but the collision left him stunned nonetheless.

Unaware that the test had gone awry, the two surviving robots rapidly closed in, collecting their hammers en route. Soon they began to rain blows down upon their creator as he lay helplessly encased in tons of useless metal. The attacks slowly began to dent and then crack his thick steel plating.

The two robots raised their hammers for another simultaneous blow when a red and blue blur soared above them. Preparing to finish their swings they now found their weapons absent from their grasps. Glancing up from Steel they discovered the reason why.

Tossing the two hammers nonchalantly behind him, Superman gave them a faint smile. "Sorry, were you using those?"

Under the simple command to attack all targets found on the testing grounds, the two drones rushed towards the man of steel. Both reached him at roughly the same time, landing staggering blows to his muscular frame. Superman stood unaffected by their attacks and, sending a simple punch towards the first, his hand tore through its metal casing. Pulling back, a swarm of electronic cables in hand, the hero watched as the robot let out a mechanical squawk and collapsed lifelessly at his feet. Seconds later the other drone joined it.

The threat dealt with Superman hurried over to Steel's side, alarm spread across his broad face. By the time he joined him though Irons had already begun to rise on his own accord. The faceplate to helmet shot back to expose a none-too-pleasant expression. "Damn it all!"

"What happened?"

"That's just what I'd like to know," Irons replied with a scowl, "One second my new suit's working fine then the next minute everything shut down on me. Now it's acting normal again."

"I'm just glad I happened to stop by when I did," Superman answered, moving to help John stand amidst the rubble, "Luckily it's been a quiet morning in Metropolis."

"Sure, lucky. Guess that'll teach me to run these tests on my own without somebody supervising."

"You sure you're okay then John?" his friend repeated, picking up on a grimace that passed over Irons' features as he brushed the assistance off.

"Yeah, yeah, all except my pride" John Henry muttered, wincing a little as he stood, "And maybe my back. But I'll be alright. It's shaping up to be one of those days."

Together they left the demolished testing area behind them and walked back to Dr. Irons's private laboratory. The two were located in the massive Steelworks complex in central Metropolis, among the largest businesses still in town and, outside LexCorp, the one that employed the most people. The majority of those workers though never saw, and thus remained unaware, of both the testing area where Steelsworks owner Dr. John Henry Irons ran trials on modified armors and his personal labs where much welcomed guests such as Superman were frequently entertained.

"One of those days huh?" Superman asked with a hint of a smile as they stepped into John Henry's cluttered workshop, "You're not telling me this has happened before?"

"Thankfully, no. Actually I was referring to this," Dr. Irons replied, picking up a print-up from his bench and handing it to the man of steel. He had since abandoned the armor and was now dressed more comfortably in a gray shirt and tan overhauls. A pair of blue tinted glasses rested atop his nose.

Superman glanced over the papers but saw only numbers. "What's this?"

"Steelworks' financial records. One of my more observant accountants brought it to my attention earlier this morning."

"Ah," the red and blue clad hero stated cautiously, still seeing only meaningless columns of digits and dollar signs, "And...?"

"And it's all right there in black and white," John replied, "We've been losing money."

"Losing money? I thought Steelworks' profits were up if anything?" came Superman's curious and somewhat surprised response.

"Oh, the company's okay. That's not what I meant. I'm talking about vanishing funds."

"You mean embezzlement?" Superman clarified, "You think somebody in your company-?"

"I don't want to. I know my people. My personal belief is that someone has been hacking into my accounts but I'll need to check into the situation closer before I swear to anything. Maybe Nat's been messing around, although I hope she'd know better."

"Certainly sounds bizarre and I'd offer to help but," Superman stated, an intense concentration coming to his face and a distance in his eyes. "I think I'll have to cut this visit short as it is. Something's come up."

"Uh huh," Henry said, peering over his glasses doubtfully as he took the print-outs from his distracted friend's hand, "Believe me I'd say the same thing if I could."

Superman's attention returned to Dr. Irons and he grinned, "No, I'm being serious John. I just overheard a police bulletin. It went out all over Metropolis. There's something strange going on down by Hob's Bay and it sounds like I better investigate."

"I hear you. You'll call me if you need help?"

"Will do."

"Oh, and what was that you said about a quiet morning in Metropolis?"

By the time these words had left John Herny's mouth though Superman was already gone, exiting in a whoosh of speed that caused the papers to ruffle in his hands. With a sigh, Irons glanced from the bank record print-outs in one hand and the test run data awaiting analysis in the other. 'Business or pleasure,' he mused with a thoughtful expression.

"Heaven help me," the man moaned, loosening his tie and tugging at his now sweat ringed white collar, "I'm burning up in here! Somebody crack a window for mercy's sake!"

Other commuters sharing the bus's stuffy space echoed the statement with complaints of their own. One among their numbers though remained withdrawn, his only reaction being to draw the dark blue slicker he wore tighter about him. Most people were already at work or school by this hour of the day meaning few occupants were on the bus. The first man was correct though; the temperature inside its cabin was indeed sweltering.

The driver pulled up to the curb of his next scheduled stop in the run-down districts of Suicide Slum and jerked back the lever to open the door. The man in the navy slicker immediately rose up and hurried for the exit. As he passed, the driver drew a handkerchief over his forehead, silently agreeing with his fitful patrons. Since no one else was waiting to board he shifted the bus back into gear as the passenger left and continued on down the road. Unnoticed by him and the other public commuters, the leather upon the seat where the man had been resting appeared to be partially melted.

His name was Theodore Dunston Lomax, although most of his friends and family just called him Ted. The events of last night he remembered only vaguely. Derrick Thompson had gathered him and a few of the other dock workers from his crew for a late night shift at extra pay. Lomax had signed up for the same type of work before; it helped pay the bills and with a baby daughter on the way that was his main concern. The cargo might be illegal, Ted realized, but even if he declined the job they would have easily found someone else. The way Lomax saw it he and his family would be the only ones suffering in that scenario.

This time, however, something bizarre had happened. There had been an accident aboard the ship and somehow an uncontrollable fire had erupted, sinking the vessel with unnatural speed. Ted recalled that he had still been onboard when it dropped beneath the waves yet somehow he had survived. Awakening some time later he had found himself washed up on the shoreline, confused and naked save for a pair of pants, and with a sick feeling in his head and the pit of his stomach. The boots and slicker he now wore he'd borrowed from a fisherman who had found him lying on the beach. He couldn't remember that exchange too well either, only that he hadn't intended to hurt him. What he did know for certain was that something was wrong with him, terribly wrong and be couldn't begin to understand what. Feeling disoriented and feverish, he had decided home was the best place to start sorting things out.

Continuing down the littered boulevards of Suicide Slum, which somehow still managed to keep their dingy appearance even after the B13 restructuring, Ted eventually stopped before the shabby apartment complex where he and his wife lived. They called it home now but that was just until they got through tough times. A real house was the eventual goal, a nicer place and neighborhood where their daughter could grow up. Maybe it wouldn't be the kind with white picket fences but definitely better than this dump.

Shouldering his way through the usual smart-mouthed punks hanging around the front stoop (all of whom would complain shortly after his passing about a sudden spike in the temperature), he made his way up to the third floor where his apartment was located. With an unsteady hand he inserted his key, a faint sizzling sound emitting as his left hand grasped the handle. His mind was still so foggy that he failed to notice it and headed inside.

His first stop was the small bathroom located near the entryway where, plugging the sink's drain, he turned on the cold water spout. From the medicine cabinet he procured a bottle of aspirin and, removing its cap, he shook two pills out into his hand. The plastic bottle he let fall to the floor and the rest of its contents spewed across the tiles. Cupping his hands under the faucet he swallowed the medicine with a quick swig of water. Turning off the tap he then lowered his face into the cool liquid.

A few seconds later he raised his head back, swiping wet hair out of his glazed blue eyes. His thoughts seemed a little more collected now that he was home but his recent memory was still somewhat muddy. It was then that he glanced back down into the sink. The water was bubbling, boiling in fact as steam wafted into the air. His skin he discovered for the first time also had a darker, almost blackened tone to it.

"What in the hell is happening to me?" he cried in fright as he stumbled back into the hall to look for his wife. "Rachel," he called desperately, "I need help, I-" No reply followed his shouts, however, and noticing a slip of paper on the kitchen counter he started over that way.

It was a brief message she'd scrawled down, warning him she'd had to stay late at work but that he should call her. No doubt she had been worried by his failure to return home last night. 'Maybe it's better she's out,' Ted told himself as he thought it through more rationally. He wasn't sure he wanted her tangled up in whatever was happening to him anyhow. It might be radiation poisoning or something even worse. Shaking his head angrily at these foreboding thoughts, he crinkled the note up in hand. As he did it ignited into flames.

"Holy-!" Ted shouted in surprise, reflexively tossing the paper away from him. It landed near the window and before he could move to dose it, the curtains caught as well. Still feeling weak he did his best to stifle it but before long the fire had spread across the old furnishings of his small apartment.

Soon the entire tenement building was aflame.

The docks were crammed with police cars and throngs of gawkers held back by police tape and uniformed cops trying their best to remain patient. News vans were in prominence as well and reporters of all types scurried about the scene, waving their press passes and cameras at the irritable detectives. Idly, he wondered if Lois was among that crowd.

"What's going on here, officers?" the man of steel queried as he descended out of the sky to land behind police lines. As familiar a sight as he was to the Metropolis citizenry and law enforcement agents in particular, Superman still drew astonished stares and admiring looks. He ignored those, however, and focused instead on the frowning visage of SCU* commander Maggie Sawyer.

*(Metropolis Special Crimes Unit - Tim Deland)

"Your guess is at least as good as mine, Superman," Maggie replied, motioning for him to follow her towards the waterline. Indicating the Bay with a wide sweep of her hand, she continued, "Because frankly I don't even want to try."

There was in fact little to see. Hob's Bay looked the same as ever. The difference was that it was now throwing off a tremendous amount of heat. Several fish and birds lay partially broiled on its surface and, although not quite boiling, the heat could be seen as well as felt.

"What on earth could cause this?"

"Good question. Unfortunately, we've got our share of those. Answers on the other hand...," she noted dryly. "Last check had the temperature at ninety-six degrees Fahrenheit. The good news is it's stopped rising and hasn't spread too far beyond the harbor."

Superman nodded slowly and then rose back into the air, his bright red cape rippling in the faint wind, "Hold on."

In a flash of speed he flew higher and then plunged into the burning depths of Hob's Bay, sending up a spray of warm water droplets. Several minutes went by and soon the surface became smooth again, causing Sawyer and the other SCU detectives to exchange glances. They weren't quite worried glances though, mostly just confused. Superman was not the kind of man you generally had to worry about.

After what seemed like an eternity to those waiting he finally reappeared and in his arms he held a white metal container or more accurately the mostly melted remains. Setting it down on the dock, Superman explained, "I believe this holds, or held at any rate, the source of our troubles." As the officers moved in closer, he added, "Careful. It's still extremely hot. I'm not sure what it contained but there's an entire ship down there and just about every variation of illegal weapon you could imagine."

"But few of this caliber I'd venture," spoke another man as he pressed his way up to where the hero stood. He was dressed in a yellow full-body environmental protection suit with STAR Labs insignia displayed on the shoulders.

Glancing over the heavy gear, Superman asked cautiously, "Do you know something we don't?"

"Probably," he answered with a faint smile as he removed the headgear, exposing a tan young face with a neatly trimmed mustache, "But don't mind this get-up. My team's been here for the last hour running tests on the water. The suit's merely a safety precaution. We haven't discovered any dangerous toxins, at least no more than usually found in the Bay. By the way, my name's Dr. Miguel Vasquez. I'm with the chemistry branch of STAR Labs."

"Pleased to meet you, doctor," the hero responded while shaking his gloved hand, "What can you tell us?"

"Nothing for certain, we're still running tests. But I believe this was caused by a rare chemical agent, a rather infamous one at that."

"Care to explain?"

"You could say that's why I'm here," Dr. Vasquez continued, "You'll have to pardon the history lesson but it's the best place to start. You see a few years ago a small European weapons tech firm by the name of Vulcan Industries started development on a top secret thermo-chemical weapon nicknamed "Promethele". The black project was later exposed by the OPCW* while still in its experimental stages and funding dried up quickly thereafter, officially closing down the research due to the protests. Rather than destroy the remaining samples of their experimental weapon, the heads at Vulcan quietly kept it stored away. Following the company's recent breakup they've gone missing along with some of its executives. Whereto has been anyone's guess. Chances are we're looking at the results of some of it right here though."

*(The United Nations Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons)

Crossing his muscular arms across the bright red and yellow 'S' on his chest, Superman glared down at the scientist, "Why wasn't I informed of this?"

Vasquez shrugged his shoulders under the bulky uniform, offering somewhat sheepishly, "Hey, I'm afraid every time there's a problem in the world, it doesn't immediately fall to you. Besides, the feeling of the U.S. government and those in the know was that the less this was mentioned the better. Not my decision and the only reason I know is because STAR has been assisting in the investigation. Considering what serious danger Metropolis might be facing, I've taken the risk of telling you."

"Nice," he answered with a disgusted tone, "So how bad is it?"

"Besides some possible ecological ramifications, not as threatening as it appears. From what I've been told the compound oxidizes and breaks down fairly quickly into its non-volatile components when exposed to open air. Evaporation usually only takes twenty minutes or so but until then it gives off an incredibly powerful thermal discharge for up to a half-mile radius at full potency. The good news is that what's going on in the Bay is just an after effect and the substance should already be neutralized. The water will eventually cool."

"And the bad news?"

"Well, if you're right about a ship there's no way of knowing if that was the only container on it. Somebody in Metropolis might very well be sitting on a stash of this stuff and if they decide to use it, who knows what damage might be done. Which is why I figured I'd better inform you."

"Has anyone from the ship been found?"

"I don't think so. They must have all cleared out before the accident. Of course, anyone on that ship when it went down would have been killed instantly."

Maggie Sawyer cleared her throat loudly, bringing their attention back around to her. "I wouldn't go and make too many assumptions, doctor. A pair of my men came across an elderly fisherman unconscious on the beach just a few miles from here."

"And what," the doctor said somewhat testily, "could possibly lead you to think that would be involved with this?"

Sawyer shrugged, mirroring his words from early, "Nothing for certain. It's just that the man we discovered was missing half his cloths and suffering second degree burns over most of his body. Not exactly the usual mugging wouldn't you agree?"

As the two continued their debate, Superman stood aside, his features bearing a deeply troubled look. A deadly chemical weapon loose in Metropolis and now a possibly related mystery attack on one of her citizens. If the day had started off quietly this morning, he thought gravely, it had just changed into something very different.

Trucks from the Metropolis City Fire Department and ambulances from several local hospitals crowded around the safety perimeter of the still burning apartment building. Emergency crews worked diligently to extract and care for the injured while the firefighters bravely fought the insistent flames. Old buildings like this, however, were firetraps to begin with and it was proving an uphill battle.

Meanwhile across the street, Ted Lomax watched the ongoing battle from safety. He had already witnessed people being carried from the building, many suffering smoke inhalation and some worse. Among their numbers were elderly women and several children, and Lomax could only imagine if his pregnant wife had been home--if she had been caught in the blaze that already destroyed their home, a blaze he caused.

Lomax understood now that something had happened to him on that ship. They had been unloading weapons, illegal equipment that included the horrible chemical substance that had done this to him. Lomax understood too that whoever their employer had been, he was responsible for all that had happened. And he, Ted's feverish mind realized with calculated fury, would have to pay for it...

Next Issue: While his conditions continue to worsen Lomax begins to hunt for those he holds responsible, leaving Superman with the task of stopping him before both he and Metropolis suffer a fatal meltdown.