I am, I am, I am. I am Superman. And I know what's happening.
Who?: Superman and anyone who's still. Y'know. Around.
What?: Superman is on patrol, righting wrongs, rescuing steampunk kittens from trees made of gears. You know the drill.
Where?: City of gears, any island
When?: Any time you want. In fact, don't even need to state a time.
Warnings?: Unless bad enough dudes happen to show up, this is a warning free zone.
He'd been doing this night after night for months now. It was quiet here. Peaceful. There were very few citizens that needed him, generally. Most genuine evildoers were wise enough to him by now that they either stopped doing the things that drew his attention, or did them in secret without his knowledge.
Truth was? He was starting to question his place here. He was starting to wonder if he might not be better simply to thank King Mickey for the experience and hand in his two weeks notice. Return to the exact moment he left and help the city of Metrpolis once more. As amazing as this City of Gears was? He needed to be where he was needed most, and that didn't seem to be here.
Still, it was hours until sun-up yet and he had time to spare. In the meantime, he would fly over the city and listen for those words. Those three little words that he'd come to know so intimately.
'Help me, Superman!'