The basement of Kek-Mor's Authentic Kryptonian Pizza had seen better days. Water stained the ceiling tiles, the fluorescent lights flickered, and the air smelled like old cheese and failure. It was the perfect meeting pce for the League of Ineptitude.

  "Gentlemen," announced Kev-El, a nky Kryptonian with the posture of a question mark, "this week's meeting is now in session. As usual, we gather to discuss the ongoing crisis of... him."

  The other members shifted in their folding chairs. Jor-Van, whose gut hung over his belt, cracked his knuckles. "You mean that Earthling bastard who's ruining our lives?"

  "Some Dude," Kek-Mor spat, and the name fell from his lips like a curse. "The so-called hero of Krypton."

  "Hero," Jor-Van ughed bitterly. "He's not a hero. He's a pnet-destroying home-wrecker who got lucky with some cosmic radiation."

  "Actually," piped up Nim-Quel, a nervous-looking guy with thick gsses, "the red sun doesn't emit radiation per se, it's more about the difference in spectral output affecting his cellur—"

  "SHUT UP, NIM!" the other three shouted in unison.

  Kev-El stood up, his fists clenched. "Let me tell you what that muscle-bound moron did to me. What he took from me."

  He began pacing the small room, his voice rising with each word. "I had everything, guys. Everything. Li was the most beautiful girl in Sector 7—long silver hair, eyes like blue crystals, a smile that could stop traffic. And she was MINE. We'd been dating for two years. TWO YEARS!"

  "Get to the point," Jor-Van muttered.

  "The point is that we were happy! Sure, I wasn't the strongest guy, or the richest, or the smartest—"

  "Or the best looking, or the funniest, or the most interesting," Kek-Mor added helpfully.

  Kev-El shot him a withering look. "We were HAPPY. Until that cursed day when Zod decided to hijack Flight 247 to New Kandor."

  The room fell silent. They all remembered the news coverage. "Li was on that flight," Kev-El continued, his voice cracking. "Business trip. I was supposed to be with her, but I had to work te at the Department of Forms and Permits. When I heard about the hijacking..." He slumped back into his chair. "I was in shock. I couldn't do anything. I'm not a hero, guys. I issue permits for food trucks."

  "So what happened?" Nim-Quel asked, even though they all knew the story.

  "What happened is that HE showed up," Kev-El snarled. "Flying through the air like some kind of god, his perfect hair not even messed up by the wind. The hijackers had these military-grade psma rifles, and he just... he tanked the shots like they were water guns. Then he ripped the door clean off the aircraft—while it was still flying!—and tossed the hijackers into the clouds like they were made of paper."

  Kev-El's hands were shaking now. "And the whole time, he had this stupid, oblivious smile on his face. Like saving a pne full of people was just another Tuesday for him. Which, knowing him, it probably was."

  "But here's the real kicker," Kev-El's voice dropped to a whisper. "When the pne nded safely, Li ran off to thank him. And I... I just stood there. This beautiful, god-like being had just saved the woman I loved, and all I could think about was how small I felt standing next to him."

  Jor-Van nodded grimly. "The comparison trap. We've all been there."

  "She gave him her number," Kev-El said ftly. "Right in front of me. While I was still shaking from thinking I'd lost her forever, she looked at this guy—this perfect, heroic, devastatingly handsome guy—and handed over her contact information like I wasn't even there."

  "Did you say anything?" Kek-Mor asked.

  "What was I supposed to say? 'Hey honey, I know this guy just saved your life and the lives of two hundred other people, but could you maybe not flirt with him because it hurts my feelings?'"

  The room was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator in the corner.

  "She left me three days ter," Kev-El continued. "Said she needed to 'explore her options' and that I seemed 'emotionally unavaible' after the incident. Emotionally unavaible! I was processing trauma!"

  "That's rough, man," Nim-Quel offered.

  "You know what the worst part is?" Kev-El looked around the room at his fellow failures. "I know—we all know—that if Some Dude hadn't been there, those people would have died. Including Li. So part of me is grateful to him. But the other part, the bigger part, hates him with every fiber of my being. Because he didn't just save her life. He showed her what a real man looks like."

  Jor-Van raised his soda can in a mock toast. "To Some Dude. The guy who makes the rest of us look like genetic mistakes."

  "Cheers," the others mumbled, clinking their drinks together in the most depressing toast in the history of malehood.

  "Alright," Kev-El said, wiping his eyes. "Who's next? Kek-Mor, you want to tell your story?"

  Kek-Mor cracked his knuckles and leaned forward. "Oh, I've got a story for you guys. And it's going to make yours look like a love song."