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A teeming cosmopolis where destinies are found, painful histories are forgotten, and your neighbors and friends and the girl in your bed are almost certainly human.
Welcome to National City.
People of National City. This is Cat Grant, broadcasting live from CatCo Plaza.
Before we begin, a brief announcement regarding the recent activity in the National City Bay:
You may have noticed that this week there is an empty commercial jet floating in the Bay on the west side of Otto Binder Bridge. The City Council would like me to remind you that the Bay is now off limits to civilians. Boats will no longer be allowed to cross the water in the Bay within 50 yards of the remains of National City Airlines Flight 237. Do not approach the aircraft.
It is possible you will see a Mysterious Flying Figure in the airspace above the Bay; many have reported glimpses of a female form circling over the marooned craft.
She is here to help. Place your trust in her.
However, it is imperative that you do not attempt to look at the aircraft in the Bay, and especially do not look directly at the Mysterious Flying Woman for any period of time while she interacts with the aircraft. While she is a friend to you, citizens of National City, you may see her do some things that you do not understand—things that are highly dangerous—so it is for your own protection that I tell you not to focus your attention on the Mysterious Figure. The Mysterious Figure will not harm you.
It is unclear just how long the aircraft will remain in the Bay. Earlier today, I sent my CatCo Radio intern, Kiera, to investigate the presence of the aircraft and identify who, or rather what, the Mysterious Figure is.
(DO NOT APPROACH THE AIRCRAFT. I stress this point again because, although I have sent Kiera to go find me that hero, that does not mean any of you should approach the Bay or the Mysterious Flying Woman. You, dear listeners, are still not allowed near National City Bay.)
Unfortunately, despite her best efforts and the very motivating incentives that I have provided her, Kiera has not, as of yet, been able to track down the Mysterious Figure. Not to worry, though, dear listeners. I guarantee that CatCo Radio will soon be bringing you complete coverage on the most incredible event in the history of National City. I’m sure my staff is out pounding the pavement to get me that exclusive. Aren’t they?
It is unclear just how long Flight 237 will remain in the Bay, nor do we know what, exactly, the Mysterious Flying Woman’s intentions were with the aircraft in the first place. National City’s engineers have been working around the clock since the aircraft suddenly appeared, but no one seems to be able to figure out how to remove it. Whatever the Mysterious Flying Woman’s reasons for crashing the plane into the Bay, it appears that its ultimate fate remains in her hands. (I am almost certain she has hands.)
…
And now, the news.
National City’s City Attorney says that Aliens appeared to her in a dream. She says one alien, in particular, spoke to her at a frequency not audible to humans and threatened a mass casualty event. She said he was humanoid with a ridge of spines along the center of his skull, and that he carried a glowing axe.
She saw this alien in her mind, she said, as she was arguing a case in court. City Attorney Ally says that the alien was defeated by an Angel that shoots laser beams from its eyes, while Al Green sang to her (to City Attorney Ally, not the Angel). She said she remembers thanking the Angel afterward by wrapping her suddenly elongated tongue around the Angel’s neck. (She was reprimanded for licking opposing council, as this all occurred during closing arguments.)
If you’re interested in further details about the Alien or the Angel who appeared to her in a dream, contact City Attorney Ally. You can find her at Karaoke Night at Noonan’s, sandwiched between the Dancing Twins.
…
An update on our Mysterious Flying Figure. I’ve decided to call her… Supergirl; “Mysterious Flying Figure” is such a mouthful—
I’m sorry, what’s that Kiera?
…
I’d like to apologize for Intern Kiera, apparently I pay her enough to fund a seemingly unlimited supply of both unflattering cardigans and plebeian adolescent humor.
…what now, Kiera?
…
We didn’t do anything.
And what’s wrong with “Supergirl”? Would you prefer “Flying Humanoid Color Wheel”? Perhaps you would, given the loud color of your cheap pants. Seems you and Supergirl have something in common.
…
I see.
Well, listeners. Intern Kiera is under the impression that the name I have given National City’s newest volant visitor is somewhat less than befitting of a female superhero.
So let me put this to rest for all of you listeners out there who may be thinking anything along those lines.
What do you think is so bad about “girl,” hm? I’m a girl. (Yes, yes, I am confirming that I am not simply a disembodied voice that lives in National City’s airwaves. As enjoyable as it was to fuel that speculation, I’m beginning to see the merits of publicly inhabiting a corporeal form.)
I’m a girl. And powerful, and rich, and hot, and smart. And, may I remind you, Kiera, your boss.
So if you, people of National City, perceive “Supergirl” as anything less than excellent, isn’t the real problem… you?
Ah. What fortunate timing. Intrepid Photographer James Olsen has just swooped into the booth to rescue Kiera from a craftily-worded public termination.
The Intrepid James Olsen has handed me a folder with some new information regarding National City’s very own superhero. In case you have forgotten, the former First Bro of Lois Lane’s favorite spandex-clad Alien Boy Scout has jumped ship from Metropolis’s Daily Planet after finally, it seems, acquiring some standards and a basic sense of professional pride and integrity.
For years, Metropolis has been flaunting their Patron Saint of Archetypical Masculinity in National City’s collective face, well now they no longer have a pet photographer to help him cash in on this superlative man’s superhumanly marketable cover story potential, so take that Loi— I mean. Metropolis.
But speaking of Lois. I can hardly imagine how Metropolis’s Alien Whisperer has been faring since the Planet’s Intrepid Photographer left for National City, bringing all the photography in Metropolis with him.
That’s right, there will no longer be any more photographs in the city of Metropolis.
I almost feel sorry for dear old Lois, deprived of any permanent record of her own face that might provide the comfort, however short-lived, of the illusion that it is not aging ever more rapidly by the day.
Though it appears that that is not something Supergirl has to worry about. Oh no, not according to these high-resolution photographs of her that are currently spread across the desk before me. Super, indeed.
Now I know this is radio, and National City’s scientists have yet to formulate a means of transmitting images through radio speakers, so unfortunately you do not have the privilege and burden of gazing upon Supergirl’s face.
Her radiant, flawless face, crowned in long flaxen locks that glow at the edges like they’re lit from within. She has a jawline that is almost as sharp as her piercing gaze, and her eyes, those infuriatingly perfect eyes—
The stars are jealous of her eyes (I would know, they told me).
I, on the other hand, remain entirely unaffected by Supergirl’s physical appearance. Of course, it would be unprofessional not to remain completely objective, though it would have been just as unforgivable if I did not provide an accurate representation of my superhero to the masses. My interest in Supergirl is purely out of a sense of duty to bring you, people of National City, the truth. Journalistic integrity, that’s all this is.
On that note, Supergirl appears to be roughly 5’9” and—
Kiera, what is going on with you? Why are you slouching more than usual? Take some pride in how you carry yourself, darling, I will not have you out representing CatCo looking like anything less than you are.
Supergirl has not been seen since noon today, when she was spotted near CatCo Plaza, in fact. I assume that now she must simply be aimlessly roaming the skies over National City. Either that, or she’s currently walking… among us…
Now that’s a thought.
She could be anywhere. Any one of us could be… her. Who’s to say who she is, really? Who’s to say you, dear listener, aren’t the Mysterious Figure responsible for dropping a flaming plane into National City Bay?
Though in case you are worried that you might, in fact, be the Mysterious Figure now known as Supergirl, let me help you assuage your concerns.
Take a look at your arms. Are they perfectly chiseled and defined, yet still lean and elegant? Do they appear to strain against the garish spandex that, for some reason, you’ve decided to trap them in? Are they arms that could bench press a 115-pound woman along with the desk behind which she is seated just as easily as the rest of us could lift a pen?
If not, then rest assured you are most likely not her. (If you do not have arms, that is potentially a separate issue you may wish to investigate.)
But then who is Supergirl? Where did she come from? What does she want from us? Why her perfect, godlike physique? Why that chromatically-challenged suit covering up her perfect, godlike physique? We know we should have faith in her. I’m not quite sure how we know… but we know. But why now? Why here? And just where does she go during the day when she is not flying around National City, stopping crimes and circumventing catastrophes and bringing order to the ever-expanding chaos of this universe?
Who is Supergirl? That’s the question I am going to answer, one way or another. By the end of the week, I will be bringing you an exclusive interview with the hero herself. I promise you that, National City.
Kiera, I hope there’s a good reason you’re passing notes to the little hobbit who lives in the station’s digital control panel. In the middle of a live broadcast. This is a serious informational radio program, not a high school show choir rehearsal.
Note. Now, Kiera.
“Maybe the real Supergirl was the friends we made along the way”?
…
…
Go fetch me a fresh latte, Kiera.
Is that a problem? Well, clearly I do not keep you occupied enough if this is what is going through your mind while you listen to me speak. Would you prefer that I fire you? Because though I’m no longer in the mood to orchestrate such a spectacle while we’re on the air, that can be arranged.
No, I don’t care that it’s in the middle of a broadcast, I am more than capable of finishing on my own. I’m not completely helpless without you, you know.
Yes, that new place across town with those rare beans that Portia is always raving about.
Oh… shame. Just like those arachnoid alien species to go violating health codes in public culinary establishments. Well, when will the decontamination be completed?
Fine, if you must, I suppose you can simply go downstairs, though I have to warn you, Kiera, drinking an ordinary latte from Noonan’s like the one I drink every morning is going to be terribly disappointing compared to the superlative coffee I’ve been dreaming of.
Yes, I have been dreaming of it, Kiera, or have you yet again failed to pay attention to the details—I’ve been dreaming of this perfect cup of coffee for four or five minutes now.
Well no, of course I don’t want you to just go there anyways on the off chance that you can acquire a cup, what part of “potentially contaminated by alien bodily fluids” seems like something I want anywhere near me?
Honestly, Kiera, I don’t know what’s gotten into you today. Perhaps getting out of the office for a bit will help you clear that head of yours; I fully expect you to be laser-focused when you get back with my latte.
Chop chop, we don’t have all day and you know how I hate to be kept waiting.
…
We received a press release earlier this morning. The National City Astronomical Society is proud to announce the opening of the newly renovated National City Observatory and Planetarium.
As you may recall, the former National City Observatory and Planetarium contained neither an Observatory nor a Planetarium, and was destroyed during the wildfires last September. In fact, the former National City Observatory and Planetarium was simply a copse of trees at the top of a hill, which explains why it was significantly more flammable than one would expect and Observatory and Planetarium to be.
The new facility, however, appears to be satisfactorily fireproof—I have been to the observatory myself on an invitation to their grand re-opening, and I can tell you that the equipment is acceptably cutting-edge and, I admit, rather beautiful.
Now, there is some concern about the fact that constructing a facility with the express purpose of astronomical observation might anger the stars, given the fact that it is widely known that the stars above National City enjoy spending their nights watching us.
Government agents from a vague yet “menacing” agency have informed me that the stars do not like to be watched. Now, I agree that as a general rule, you, citizens of National City, should avoid looking directly at the stars.
However, despite their dire and… alright, fine… very “menacingly” delivered warning, those government agents should be aware that the rules, as a general rule, rarely apply to me.
For the rest of you, though, until the stars decide they are ready to reveal whatever secrets they are hiding, perhaps it would be best to respect their privacy.
…
Hm. Well, Intern Kiera still has yet to return with my latte despite the fact that we agreed she would simply get one from the coffeeshop here in CatCo Plaza. I have no idea what this girl has been getting herself into these past few days, she’s been entirely distracted and that’s unlike her.
Not that I’m concerned about her. I mean, there has been an upturn in alien activity in National City in recent weeks, but I’m sure Kara’s fine. My only concern is for the efficiency of my CatCo staff, it simply won’t do to have interns dropping off the face of the planet and into some alien limbo during routine coffee runs.
She had better get back soon. So I can reprimand her for disrupting the performance of my entire media empire with her absence. I need my coffee to perform at peak efficiency, she knows this.
Ahem. Moving on to traffic.
The National City Police Department is issuing warnings about the roads out in the desert by National City Power Plant. They are saying that there is currently some sort of altercation taking place on the coastal highway near exit 47 — what has been described as a “Female/Reptilian boxing match,” apparently — so be advised that it would be your in best interest to avoid that road and seek alternate routes. An agent from the vague yet “menacing” government agency would like me to remind you that it would be unwise to follow the unmarked black vehicles or helicopters traversing the area.
And listeners, I would suggest the same—after all, it’s always a much better idea to follow the stars that shoot across the sky to whatever destination to which they might lead you.
And now, the weather.
There is no weather in National City. The weather simply… does not exist this week. As if somebody forgot to acquire an MP3 of the weather before this broadcast.
Perhaps the weather will return next week. Who knows, perhaps my disappearing intern will have returned by then as well.
Before I leave you for the night, some brief words of advice for all of you, listeners.
Stars—they’re just like us! Burning themselves alive in an ultimately futile but still valiant and worthwhile effort to bring some light to the darkness of the void. Think like a star, be your own light. (Though be careful with matches and try to avoid literal self-immolation. That does no one any good.)
I hope all of you out there have other lights in your life, friends and neighbors and families and lovers, to help you light your way. And if you don’t, just look up to the sky tonight.
Or don’t. The stars have reminded me that you should not look up.
Goodnight, National City.
Goodnight.