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[b][color=0072bc][u]Prologue: From Russia Without Love[/u][/color]
Gotham City, United States
May 2nd, 2016[/b][/center][hr]
[INDENT]His meeting with Bruce had been about as the best as he could’ve hoped, and while he felt a little at peace following the conversation he almost felt like he had in turn made Bruce feel [i]worse[/i]. He almost had a mind to go back into the Batcave and give him reassurance, that he need not to take all of his sorrow for him— even if that would’ve just ultimately irritated the caped crusader. But he never, not once, felt an argument with Bruce was toxic or wasted time. He was the closest friend he had that actually knew him for all that he was outside of his family or Lana that accepted him for who he was— and [i]what[/i] he was. Towering over the Gotham skyline he began to make motion back towards Wayne Manor until a sharp scream filled his mind.
[list][h2][i]AAAAAH![/i][/h2][/list]
The scream cut through Clark’s mind, interrupting his train of thought. There was no thinking to the scream of terror— he had already made a beeline for it. 

Touching down in southern Russia, somewhere near the Kazakhstan border, the first conflict of the day begins. Clark’s brows narrow as he sees what had caused the scream: a Frankenstein-like monster stitched throughout his whole body with a massive bulk to him. A woman in a white labcoat is trying to scramble back as fear completely overtakes her. A reasonable sense of fear. He threw his arm out in an attempt to reach out to the creature to stop the scene from getting exponentially worse; speaking his words carefully hoping that what was before him spoke Russian. Hoping it could [i]understand[/i] him and not enact viciousness and murderous action upon the helpless scientist. Though if his father's old monster movies from the 50's taught him anything, the scientist probably set off some sort of chain reaction incidentally or on purpose. He really hope he was wrong on that regard because he wasn't sure he could lecture someone with his current state of mind.

[color=0072bc][b]“Stop!, what are you doing?”[/b][/color]

The words crack forward like lightning and the creature (mutant?) turned its head at the figure that stood behind him that dared to grab him. There was a grumble from its lips. 

“Die.”

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[b]“DIE! DIE! [i]DIE![/i]”[/b]

Well. He definitely knew he spoke Russian.

The concrete cracked as the creature slammed Clark’s face repeatedly, with each motion exponentially stronger than the last. Clark felt like he should’ve been used to this sort of reaction given his experiences with the likes of Solomon Grundy; but he really wasn’t. There really wasn’t much getting used to with the equivalent of a real life ogre throwing you around like a ragdoll when you were as strong as Clark was. A heavy breath left him as he shifted his energy and despite being face-down flung himself upwards back-first as quickly as possible.

The movement caused the creature to stumble and lose hold of his head, which was good… because that was enough of that.

[color=0072bc][b]“A bit of a temper, huh. That’s okay. I’ve got one too.”[/b][/color] Clark grinned in mid-air as he cracked his knuckles.[/indent]