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[i]My senses are aflame.[/i]

It's my first thought when I first got used to my powers, really; a temporary weakness the Kents tried to use on my world. I was nine, and they tried to run away. Tried to hide, escape me. Once I adapted to my new senses, Johnny and Martha Kent-once an abusive couple, now terrified of their "son," so much so that they didn't run far. The woman [i]knew[/i] I'd adapt. And when I did, I found them, and I killed them. I burned their bodies, and razed the farm. I was nine years old. 

Even then, I knew I was the strongest.

Over the years, I've learned many things about myself. I've learned that I've got a temper. I've learned that compared to others, I can be perceived as a god. I've learned, as well, that I'm not the only man with strength. Size means muscle. Size more often than not means strength. Some strength comes in intelligence, like Professor Stein-Deathstorm. Some of it comes in physical strength, like me. When you combine the perfect amount of intelligence, like Thomas, it can be a terrifying thing. Thomas-Owlman-may just be a human, but he's worked his entire life, from the age of eleven, really, to reach physical perfection. He may be one of the most skilled fighters I know, and at the same time, he's a genius. Sometimes, I admit, I can think of Thomas as just a man with a suit and money to spend, but then he pulls out another gadget from his belt, or takes down a foe I didn't think he'd be able to, and then I realize just how inventive and ruthless he really is. Owlman might not be the most powerful of us, but he's certainly one of the most dangerous. 

Which makes me think, if he's willing to tell his true name to these people,this so-called team, he's got an endgame. Some plan is working up in that mind of his, and I'm willing to bet he's already thought several moves ahead. For now though, I have to hope Owlman will clue me in; In the meantime, I can do what I do best-Lead. These people need direction, and so far, I haven't seen any of it. We have a mission, and I intend to carry it out. My world may have been destroyed, but that doesn't mean I can't make this one my own. 

I step forward, to the center,shoving aside the walking crocodile like a child's plaything. A hand on my shoulder makes me pause. Then Thomas' voice speaks up, calm and as confident as ever. 

"Clark. Don't."