You guys can't have two of these going at once.
That breaks the canon.
This is the version with blackjack and hookers.
Lord Wraith
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Reluctantly retired roleplayer.
Except when I'm not.
Why are you here when you should be writing posts?
You can edit a bad draft, but you cannot edit a blank page.
Except when I'm not.
Why are you here when you should be writing posts?
You can edit a bad draft, but you cannot edit a blank page.
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This is the version with blackjack and hookers.
Giving feedback is an art and GG has it mastered.
I created this entire thread out of spite.
Get on my level.
Get on my level.
Moon Knight Versus Sif
Go!
Go!
“The suit uses refined sunstone, a refined silicate that, under the correct conditions, is nigh unbreakable and self-replicating, capable of mass expansion. Note the exotic crimson hue.” The older Kryptonian explained as he showed Jor-El around the prototype affixed to the mannequin in the middle of his workshop.
Like his younger brother, Zor-El was a member of the Science Guild, one specializing in engineering, an Alchemist, who was working on an exclusive contract with the Military Guild. With their aggressive campaign of expansion, the Council had granted Zor-El unlimited resources in an effort to create a suit that could bombard latent Kryptonian cells to jumpstart their photonucleic metabolism that had been essentially eradicated centuries earlier by the Dheronian’s genophage.
In addition to turning Rao into a red star, the genophage had left Kryptonians sterile, unable to reproduce under normal conditions. A cunning people, however, the Kryptonians learned how to sustain their society through the Caste System. A proposal initially opposed by the Oracles of Rao and his heralds’ Seers, this was overturned when the forefathers of the Science Guild, who were backed by the Strategos and Polemarchs of Krypton’s military. This led the way to the birth of the Kryptonian Council and the Guilds.
The council took it upon themselves to oversee and control relationships among its people, pairing high-potential partners with one another before DNA would be harvested and grown in a birthing pod. When a couple was selected to receive a child, it was understood that this child would be joining one of the parents’ guilds. Though more often than not, the Council paired together individuals who belonged to the same Guild, if only out of convenience. A millennium later, it was nigh unheard of for a Labour Guild member to be paired with a ‘higher’ Caste member.
Each Caste was born with inherent abilities bio-engineered into their DNA through artificial radiation bombardment using high-energy particles. Though immensely weaker than the Kryptonian society that flourished under the yellow light of Rao, their abilities still brought them an edge against the neighbouring Dheronians and Daxamites. The Kryptonian Council was made up of a representative from the Science, Religious, Military and Artist Guilds, with each Guild representative allowed to speak on behalf of the Labour Guild. The Council Chair was the final member of the representatives and held the most power on the Council.
But the Council had grown vain and arrogant. Unlike his brother, Jor-El was a Philosopher who specialized in the biology and nature of Krypton. He had been an outspoken opponent of the Council’s space race, and in return, they had threatened him with expulsion from the Science Guild numerous times for speaking out against their treatment of Krypton and its resources.
“When energized to ignition, it creates a ‘hard light' construct. Hence, when the sunstone is ignited, the gauntlets project a blade capable of slicing through even refined Krytanium. The ignited sunstone has a delightful golden hue that really brings out the blue of the suit.” Zor-El continued, his voice breaking Jor-El out of his thoughts.
“The blue is a bit much, isn't it?” Jor-El interjected, giving his head a shake. He should be happy for his brother, but the fact of the matter was no matter how much the Council wanted to ignore the information, there was nothing a simple suit could do to overcome the genophage. The genes required to reach the potential of an ancient Kryptonian had been wiped out of the DNA and spread across the five guilds. A member of the Military Guild wasn’t about to immediately gain the Religious Guild’s ability to fly upon donning the suit.
Even if it supercharged their cells.
“I was worried you’d say that. Press the belt buckle.” Zor-El commanded as Jor-El obliged his older brother. The surface of the suit rippled from red and blue to the black of space, gold replaced by glistening silver. The crimson chest plate vanished as the active silicate rearranged into plates on the shoulders and arms, while the living circuitry revealed itself.
“More pedestrian and practical. But it certainly loses its flair.” Zor-El lamented, “The trade-off is the loss of much of the suit’s countermeasures in exchange for rapid metabolization of radiation to recharge and recover the host. The host isn’t at harm in this way, but the suit could be irreparably damaged, and it’s not entirely suited for prolonged combat.”
“It’s certainly an impressive design, I’m just not sure it’s actually compatible with our current biology.”
“It’s not,” Zor-El replied with a smile, “Consider it a gift.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Zor-El simply smiled at his brother’s terrible attempt at lying.
“You pretend as if Alura and Lara don’t talk. Do I strike you as so terrible a husband that my wife and I no longer converse in ideal gossip?” Zor-El retorted, “I know all about your attempts at saving our race, and I wanted to help. Besides, really, you go around bringing long-dead species back to life, and people are going to talk.” He scolded.
“Really, brother, pets and now pregnancy? How dreadfully primitive of you,”
“Zor, you could have turned me over to the Council the moment you found out what I was doing. Anyone else would. Have me stripped of my rank and sent to Bokos or Mithen to serve out the rest of my days.” Jor-El replied solemnly.
“We may not always see eye-to-eye, brother, but you are my brother and the Uncle of my Kara. If you are doing something that ensures her future, then I am in your debt.”
“I appreciate the rare display of sentiment.”
“I would appreciate you not getting used to it.” Zor-El replied with a small sneer. “Now about my design-”
“The chest is lacking; it needs something,” Jor-El interjected, thoughtfully rubbing his beard. He raised a hand, outlining a shape before speaking. “How about the House sigil? The mark of El?”
“How woefully vain. I love it.”
Like his younger brother, Zor-El was a member of the Science Guild, one specializing in engineering, an Alchemist, who was working on an exclusive contract with the Military Guild. With their aggressive campaign of expansion, the Council had granted Zor-El unlimited resources in an effort to create a suit that could bombard latent Kryptonian cells to jumpstart their photonucleic metabolism that had been essentially eradicated centuries earlier by the Dheronian’s genophage.
In addition to turning Rao into a red star, the genophage had left Kryptonians sterile, unable to reproduce under normal conditions. A cunning people, however, the Kryptonians learned how to sustain their society through the Caste System. A proposal initially opposed by the Oracles of Rao and his heralds’ Seers, this was overturned when the forefathers of the Science Guild, who were backed by the Strategos and Polemarchs of Krypton’s military. This led the way to the birth of the Kryptonian Council and the Guilds.
The council took it upon themselves to oversee and control relationships among its people, pairing high-potential partners with one another before DNA would be harvested and grown in a birthing pod. When a couple was selected to receive a child, it was understood that this child would be joining one of the parents’ guilds. Though more often than not, the Council paired together individuals who belonged to the same Guild, if only out of convenience. A millennium later, it was nigh unheard of for a Labour Guild member to be paired with a ‘higher’ Caste member.
Each Caste was born with inherent abilities bio-engineered into their DNA through artificial radiation bombardment using high-energy particles. Though immensely weaker than the Kryptonian society that flourished under the yellow light of Rao, their abilities still brought them an edge against the neighbouring Dheronians and Daxamites. The Kryptonian Council was made up of a representative from the Science, Religious, Military and Artist Guilds, with each Guild representative allowed to speak on behalf of the Labour Guild. The Council Chair was the final member of the representatives and held the most power on the Council.
But the Council had grown vain and arrogant. Unlike his brother, Jor-El was a Philosopher who specialized in the biology and nature of Krypton. He had been an outspoken opponent of the Council’s space race, and in return, they had threatened him with expulsion from the Science Guild numerous times for speaking out against their treatment of Krypton and its resources.
“When energized to ignition, it creates a ‘hard light' construct. Hence, when the sunstone is ignited, the gauntlets project a blade capable of slicing through even refined Krytanium. The ignited sunstone has a delightful golden hue that really brings out the blue of the suit.” Zor-El continued, his voice breaking Jor-El out of his thoughts.
“The blue is a bit much, isn't it?” Jor-El interjected, giving his head a shake. He should be happy for his brother, but the fact of the matter was no matter how much the Council wanted to ignore the information, there was nothing a simple suit could do to overcome the genophage. The genes required to reach the potential of an ancient Kryptonian had been wiped out of the DNA and spread across the five guilds. A member of the Military Guild wasn’t about to immediately gain the Religious Guild’s ability to fly upon donning the suit.
Even if it supercharged their cells.
“I was worried you’d say that. Press the belt buckle.” Zor-El commanded as Jor-El obliged his older brother. The surface of the suit rippled from red and blue to the black of space, gold replaced by glistening silver. The crimson chest plate vanished as the active silicate rearranged into plates on the shoulders and arms, while the living circuitry revealed itself.
“More pedestrian and practical. But it certainly loses its flair.” Zor-El lamented, “The trade-off is the loss of much of the suit’s countermeasures in exchange for rapid metabolization of radiation to recharge and recover the host. The host isn’t at harm in this way, but the suit could be irreparably damaged, and it’s not entirely suited for prolonged combat.”
“It’s certainly an impressive design, I’m just not sure it’s actually compatible with our current biology.”
“It’s not,” Zor-El replied with a smile, “Consider it a gift.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Zor-El simply smiled at his brother’s terrible attempt at lying.
“You pretend as if Alura and Lara don’t talk. Do I strike you as so terrible a husband that my wife and I no longer converse in ideal gossip?” Zor-El retorted, “I know all about your attempts at saving our race, and I wanted to help. Besides, really, you go around bringing long-dead species back to life, and people are going to talk.” He scolded.
“Really, brother, pets and now pregnancy? How dreadfully primitive of you,”
“Zor, you could have turned me over to the Council the moment you found out what I was doing. Anyone else would. Have me stripped of my rank and sent to Bokos or Mithen to serve out the rest of my days.” Jor-El replied solemnly.
“We may not always see eye-to-eye, brother, but you are my brother and the Uncle of my Kara. If you are doing something that ensures her future, then I am in your debt.”
“I appreciate the rare display of sentiment.”
“I would appreciate you not getting used to it.” Zor-El replied with a small sneer. “Now about my design-”
“The chest is lacking; it needs something,” Jor-El interjected, thoughtfully rubbing his beard. He raised a hand, outlining a shape before speaking. “How about the House sigil? The mark of El?”
“How woefully vain. I love it.”
Special.
That’s what the men had called Claire. They had said she was special. Showed her parents all sorts of pamphlets, pamphlets showing the potential Lisa had in life, the future her gifts could unlock for her. A school in upstate New York that would teach her to control her abilities, master them and live a fulfilling life.
And the Seltons believed them.
All of their questions and concerns went out the window the moment a cheque was placed in front of them. Neither of Claire’s parents had seen so many zeroes before in their lives. It was an easy decision in that moment to ship their only daughter off for a life beyond Suicide Slums. A private education that paid them instead of the other way around? It was the dream of every family on the wrong side of the tracks in Metropolis.
Of course, it was a smokescreen.
No sooner than the cheque was in her parents’ hands than was the match lit that changed Claire’s life forever. All of her possessions were loaded into the back of an unmarked white van. And while it looked nothing like the cars in the pamphlets the Seltons had been shown, in that moment neither they nor Claire thought to question a thing. The moment her parents became a speck in the rearview mirror, then did the men in suits revealed their true colours. Roughly pulled from the vehicle before being dragged across the cracked asphalt while fighting every inch of the way. Despite her protests, Claire couldn’t break free as she was hauled against her will inside the decrepit facility. Every shade of white imaginable decorated the walls on all sides of the seemingly endless corridor, while the sterile smell of bleach and ammonium overwhelmed her nostrils.
When she couldn’t focus her powers, Claire tried to bite at one of the orderlies as they strapped her down to a gurney. Lashing out against the restraints as she released one blood-curdling scream after another. The staff around her continued on their day, completely unbothered and unflinching to her protests.
“Marsha?”
“My name is Claire.”
“No, that was your name. Your name now is Marsha, Marsha Rosenberg. Claire Selton died in a car crash on her way to the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters.”
“No, my name is Claire Selton.”
“Your name is Marsha, now move along.” Claire felt the sting of the cattle prod so many times over the first couple of weeks. The jolt of electricity arcing through her body, stopping her muscles and ending all protest in her body. Eventually, she learned to love it, to crave the pain. It motivated her; she would let this place turn her into a weapon, she would let them turn her into Marsha.
Then Marsha would burn it all down.
It didn’t take long for Claire to become Marsha. It became easier with each day between the tests, the needles, and the abuse. Marsha Rosenberg was forced to be everything that Claire Selton was not. Marsha had to be desired, and being desired came with rewards. Rewards that Claire could never have seen, rewards that Claire could never have endured.
Where Claire had been afraid to use her abilities, Marsha was encouraged to unleash the full extent of her powers to become something so much more than a scared little girl. When her abilities seemed to be tapped out, Marsha was visited by a green cocktail that amplified her latent X-Gene. She began to burn hotter, capable of turning more and more of her body into fire until finally she became Volcana.
And through Volcana, Claire had her revenge.
His name was Kurt. The source of her torment, the man who had taken an interest in her. Special Agent Conan Kurt visited Marsha every day. Marsha protected Claire, protected Claire’s innocence so that she didn’t have to feel the things Marsha did, see the things that Marsha did.
Kurt was the first to meet Volcana fully. The smell of his flesh as it burned caused Volcana to empty the contents of her stomach. Tears streamed down her face as the man who had caused her so much pain was finally gone. Various alarms echoed in her ears. She moved through the smoke, torching the building that had inflicted so much pain upon her.
She had come so far. She had survived so much. Life had dealt her a poor hand, and she was sick of being told how to live. Did Superman honestly think she wanted to be robbing a bank in broad daylight?
Of course, she didn’t, but she didn’t have a choice.
“Burn, burn, burn!” Volcana cried through gout after gout of fire towards Metropolis’ resident Boy Scout. Her futile efforts continued until the Man of Steel suddenly inhaled, draining the room of oxygen. Volcana initially grasped for her throat, choking on the vacuum before realizing in horror that her flames had been extinguished.
“You can’t-” She croaked, reaching towards Superman.
“Don’t send me-” Volcana managed to force out before her eyelids closed, a black veil washing over her. Her unconscious body crumpled, caught by Superman, who easily carried the woman outside. With the metahuman downed and the fire extinguished, the red crystalline barriers suddenly collapsed, returning to a fine dust before reforming around Superman's body in a malleable form reminiscent of a cape.
“She’s unconscious for now, officers, but she’s still dangerous.” He instructed, gently handing the woman over before another voice suddenly challenged the custody of the Metropolis Police Department.
“The D.E.O. will take custody of the metahuman from this point.”
“My apologies, Mrs. Luthor,” The commanding officer replied, “But the MPD has-”
“Agent,” Lexa interjected, speaking over the officer.
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s Agent, Senior Special Agent Luthor.” Lexa stated, flashing a badge that read ‘A.R.G.U.S.’, “I believe that trumps your jurisdiction.”
“What’ll happen to her?” Superman asked, landing beside the officer.
“She’ll get the help she needs,” Lexa replied dismissively. “I have contacts at Belle Reve that will take care of her.” She stated, before raising her chin as if to challenge the larger man.
“Unless you have any objections? Or should I remind you that you’re a guest not only in the country but on this planet, and any direct intervention with law enforcement will be met with escalated hostility.”
“I just want to make sure she’s well taken care of. I get the feeling she was acting more out of desperation than ill intent.”
“Superman, there’s a reason you’re not an authority here. Those of us who actually work in law enforcement use something called evidence. It’s more objective than your circumstantial ‘feelings’.”
“Apologies, Special Agent,” Superman replied, “Could I follow up with her once she’s situated at Belle Reve?”
“It’d be better if you didn’t.” Lexa snapped, turning around as she made a motion with her hand to wrap it up.
“She’s a piece of work,” The officer beside Superman suddenly said, “You saved how many lives together? Where does she get off?”
“Agent Luthor is just doing her job,” Superman replied. Without another word, he took flight, soaring back above the skyline of Metropolis. Superman’s work may have been done, but it was time for Clark Kent to make contact with an old friend.
That’s what the men had called Claire. They had said she was special. Showed her parents all sorts of pamphlets, pamphlets showing the potential Lisa had in life, the future her gifts could unlock for her. A school in upstate New York that would teach her to control her abilities, master them and live a fulfilling life.
And the Seltons believed them.
All of their questions and concerns went out the window the moment a cheque was placed in front of them. Neither of Claire’s parents had seen so many zeroes before in their lives. It was an easy decision in that moment to ship their only daughter off for a life beyond Suicide Slums. A private education that paid them instead of the other way around? It was the dream of every family on the wrong side of the tracks in Metropolis.
Of course, it was a smokescreen.
No sooner than the cheque was in her parents’ hands than was the match lit that changed Claire’s life forever. All of her possessions were loaded into the back of an unmarked white van. And while it looked nothing like the cars in the pamphlets the Seltons had been shown, in that moment neither they nor Claire thought to question a thing. The moment her parents became a speck in the rearview mirror, then did the men in suits revealed their true colours. Roughly pulled from the vehicle before being dragged across the cracked asphalt while fighting every inch of the way. Despite her protests, Claire couldn’t break free as she was hauled against her will inside the decrepit facility. Every shade of white imaginable decorated the walls on all sides of the seemingly endless corridor, while the sterile smell of bleach and ammonium overwhelmed her nostrils.
When she couldn’t focus her powers, Claire tried to bite at one of the orderlies as they strapped her down to a gurney. Lashing out against the restraints as she released one blood-curdling scream after another. The staff around her continued on their day, completely unbothered and unflinching to her protests.
“Marsha?”
“My name is Claire.”
“No, that was your name. Your name now is Marsha, Marsha Rosenberg. Claire Selton died in a car crash on her way to the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters.”
“No, my name is Claire Selton.”
“Your name is Marsha, now move along.” Claire felt the sting of the cattle prod so many times over the first couple of weeks. The jolt of electricity arcing through her body, stopping her muscles and ending all protest in her body. Eventually, she learned to love it, to crave the pain. It motivated her; she would let this place turn her into a weapon, she would let them turn her into Marsha.
Then Marsha would burn it all down.
It didn’t take long for Claire to become Marsha. It became easier with each day between the tests, the needles, and the abuse. Marsha Rosenberg was forced to be everything that Claire Selton was not. Marsha had to be desired, and being desired came with rewards. Rewards that Claire could never have seen, rewards that Claire could never have endured.
Where Claire had been afraid to use her abilities, Marsha was encouraged to unleash the full extent of her powers to become something so much more than a scared little girl. When her abilities seemed to be tapped out, Marsha was visited by a green cocktail that amplified her latent X-Gene. She began to burn hotter, capable of turning more and more of her body into fire until finally she became Volcana.
And through Volcana, Claire had her revenge.
His name was Kurt. The source of her torment, the man who had taken an interest in her. Special Agent Conan Kurt visited Marsha every day. Marsha protected Claire, protected Claire’s innocence so that she didn’t have to feel the things Marsha did, see the things that Marsha did.
Kurt was the first to meet Volcana fully. The smell of his flesh as it burned caused Volcana to empty the contents of her stomach. Tears streamed down her face as the man who had caused her so much pain was finally gone. Various alarms echoed in her ears. She moved through the smoke, torching the building that had inflicted so much pain upon her.
She had come so far. She had survived so much. Life had dealt her a poor hand, and she was sick of being told how to live. Did Superman honestly think she wanted to be robbing a bank in broad daylight?
Of course, she didn’t, but she didn’t have a choice.
“Burn, burn, burn!” Volcana cried through gout after gout of fire towards Metropolis’ resident Boy Scout. Her futile efforts continued until the Man of Steel suddenly inhaled, draining the room of oxygen. Volcana initially grasped for her throat, choking on the vacuum before realizing in horror that her flames had been extinguished.
“You can’t-” She croaked, reaching towards Superman.
“Don’t send me-” Volcana managed to force out before her eyelids closed, a black veil washing over her. Her unconscious body crumpled, caught by Superman, who easily carried the woman outside. With the metahuman downed and the fire extinguished, the red crystalline barriers suddenly collapsed, returning to a fine dust before reforming around Superman's body in a malleable form reminiscent of a cape.
“She’s unconscious for now, officers, but she’s still dangerous.” He instructed, gently handing the woman over before another voice suddenly challenged the custody of the Metropolis Police Department.
“The D.E.O. will take custody of the metahuman from this point.”
“My apologies, Mrs. Luthor,” The commanding officer replied, “But the MPD has-”
“Agent,” Lexa interjected, speaking over the officer.
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s Agent, Senior Special Agent Luthor.” Lexa stated, flashing a badge that read ‘A.R.G.U.S.’, “I believe that trumps your jurisdiction.”
“What’ll happen to her?” Superman asked, landing beside the officer.
“She’ll get the help she needs,” Lexa replied dismissively. “I have contacts at Belle Reve that will take care of her.” She stated, before raising her chin as if to challenge the larger man.
“Unless you have any objections? Or should I remind you that you’re a guest not only in the country but on this planet, and any direct intervention with law enforcement will be met with escalated hostility.”
“I just want to make sure she’s well taken care of. I get the feeling she was acting more out of desperation than ill intent.”
“Superman, there’s a reason you’re not an authority here. Those of us who actually work in law enforcement use something called evidence. It’s more objective than your circumstantial ‘feelings’.”
“Apologies, Special Agent,” Superman replied, “Could I follow up with her once she’s situated at Belle Reve?”
“It’d be better if you didn’t.” Lexa snapped, turning around as she made a motion with her hand to wrap it up.
“She’s a piece of work,” The officer beside Superman suddenly said, “You saved how many lives together? Where does she get off?”
“Agent Luthor is just doing her job,” Superman replied. Without another word, he took flight, soaring back above the skyline of Metropolis. Superman’s work may have been done, but it was time for Clark Kent to make contact with an old friend.
A gentle sound of contentment came from the slumbering white wolfdog. He lay on the wraparound porch of the Kent farm, not a care in the world, while his legs dangled in the air upwards and his tongue hung out of the side of his mouth, lazily rising and falling with his soft snores.
Creaking hinges announced the opening of the storm door that led into the Kent homestead. No sooner had it opened than it was followed by the clatter of the same door closing, as it was released from the teenage girl’s hand. She paused, brushing loose strands of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear before looking over at the lazy canine, an amused smile crossing her face at Krypto’s relaxed state.
Reaching down, she pushed her fingers through his thick, shaggy coat, brushing aside the mane-like fur that hung from his neck and chest before scratching along his ribcage, eliciting happy tail wags from the alien canine.
She allowed herself to fall into a seated position beside the animal, her eyes starting into the distance, looking beyond the fence line and towards the horizon. Jessica Kent was completely lost in thought as her hand absently continued to scratch Krypto’s stomach, completely ignorant of her father working on the tractor no more than several paces away from the house.
“Something bothering you, sweetheart?” Jonathan Kent called, looking up from his work as he noticed Jessica sitting on the porch steps doing her best impression of her eldest brother’s thousand-yard stare. Jonathan softly chuckled to himself. He had seen Clark with that look more times than he could count, probably more times than there were kernels of corn stored up in the silo.
“Just something that happened today at school,” came a soft reply.
“One of the boys in the senior grade got upset, and it turned out he was Kryptonite-infected.” Jessie began to explain, “And now, the Torch wants me to interview him and the people he hurt.”
A heavy sigh escaped the young girl’s lips as she sat against the tractor’s wheel.
“Do you think Clark gets scared?”
Jonathan paused for a moment, setting his tools down and taking off his work gloves before holding them in one hand. He followed Jessie’s gaze, looking out over the field before allowing his eyes to trace the path of the sun shining down above the farm. His solemn expression gradually softened into a small grin.
“Looking at your brother and his abilities, it’s easy to think he doesn’t ever feel fear, isn’t it?” Jonathan replied, before putting the gloves down on the porch as he crouched down to Jessica’s level.
“But, while his gifts and his biology might be from another world, your brother is just as human as you or I.” He continued, placing a calloused hand on his daughter’s shoulder.
“He loves and suffers heartbreak; he does, in fact, get scared. Clark has to wake up every morning, and despite not always knowing what to do, he chooses to put one foot in front of the other and try to make the best decisions he can.” Jonathan smiled, taking a quick breath.
“Your brother’s not perfect, he’s made mistakes and missteps, but that’s part of being human, and I like to think that’s Clark’s greatest strength, especially in a world so rapidly changing.” Turning to his daughter, Jonathan spoke again.
“So to answer your question, Jessie, yes, I think Clark gets scared. Probably more often than you or I.”
“So how does Clark get over his fear?”
Jonathan smiled, ruffling Jessie’s hair before taking a seat beside his daughter, wrapping an arm around her and giving her a soft squeeze.
“I can’t speak for Clark, but for myself, I don’t get over the fear. But I don’t let it control me either. Like anything, if we let it control us, it can be a bad thing. It doesn’t have to be that way, though. You can let your fear inform you and use it to help make a decision.” Jonathan explained, before turning to look down at Jessie.
“Now what is your fear telling you?”
“That this boy could really hurt someone, and if I wrote the wrong thing in the torch or if someone else was quoted as saying the wrong thing, he might come back for revenge,” Jessie replied.
“Ryan used to tell me about all the Kryptonite-infected people that Clark used to fight. Aren’t they dangerous?”
Jonathan gave Jessica a small shrug as he rubbed his head.
“Couldn’t people say the same thing about either of your brothers? Clark has his abilities, but Ryan also has his. Both of them have the potential to abuse their abilities, but they choose to use them to help people. Did this senior student intentionally set out to hurt anyone?”
The question hung between the pair for a couple of minutes before Jessie broke the silence.
“I don’t know, I guess no one asked.”
“If I learned anything about being a reporter from your brother and his friends, that seems like one of the first questions I’d ask. From there, just follow your gut and stick to the truth, kiddo.”
“I’m still scared.”
“And you still have every right to be, but you get to choose the next steps you take. Not your fear.”
Jonathan smiled as Jessica turned to him, throwing her arms around her dad’s tanned canvas coat before squeezing him in a gratitude-laden hug.
“I’m proud of you, I’m sure Clark is too.” Her Dad smiled at her, as Jessie nodded appreciatively.
“Thanks, I hope he comes home again for more banana bread.”
“Oh, I’m sure he will,” Jonathan laughed, “If there’s anything Clark enjoys, it’s making people happy, and it sounds like banana bread is certainly a highlight for this ‘Jimmy’.”
“Must be awful living in the big city, ‘specially if the bar for a good day is banana bread.”
“Why do you think I rescued your mother from it?” Jonathan asked.
“Rescued me from what?”
“Life in the big city of course,” Jonathan repeated, turning to greet Martha with a quick peck on the cheek. “How was work today?”
“Oh, you know the usual.” Martha replied, “Your son is on TV again, apparently a ‘fire woman’ is trying to rob a bank in Metropolis.”
“Clark’s on TV?” Jessie exclaimed, “C’mon, Krypto! Your daddy’s on the TV.”
“My sister was never that big of a fan of me,” Martha muttered to Jonathan. Her husband only laughed in response.
“Maybe you should try wearing on tights on TV.”
“You’re the only one who’d want to see that, old boy,” Martha replied with a playful tap on Jonathan’s cheek.
“Now let’s go see what kind of trouble found our son today.”
Creaking hinges announced the opening of the storm door that led into the Kent homestead. No sooner had it opened than it was followed by the clatter of the same door closing, as it was released from the teenage girl’s hand. She paused, brushing loose strands of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear before looking over at the lazy canine, an amused smile crossing her face at Krypto’s relaxed state.
Reaching down, she pushed her fingers through his thick, shaggy coat, brushing aside the mane-like fur that hung from his neck and chest before scratching along his ribcage, eliciting happy tail wags from the alien canine.
She allowed herself to fall into a seated position beside the animal, her eyes starting into the distance, looking beyond the fence line and towards the horizon. Jessica Kent was completely lost in thought as her hand absently continued to scratch Krypto’s stomach, completely ignorant of her father working on the tractor no more than several paces away from the house.
“Something bothering you, sweetheart?” Jonathan Kent called, looking up from his work as he noticed Jessica sitting on the porch steps doing her best impression of her eldest brother’s thousand-yard stare. Jonathan softly chuckled to himself. He had seen Clark with that look more times than he could count, probably more times than there were kernels of corn stored up in the silo.
“Just something that happened today at school,” came a soft reply.
“One of the boys in the senior grade got upset, and it turned out he was Kryptonite-infected.” Jessie began to explain, “And now, the Torch wants me to interview him and the people he hurt.”
A heavy sigh escaped the young girl’s lips as she sat against the tractor’s wheel.
“Do you think Clark gets scared?”
Jonathan paused for a moment, setting his tools down and taking off his work gloves before holding them in one hand. He followed Jessie’s gaze, looking out over the field before allowing his eyes to trace the path of the sun shining down above the farm. His solemn expression gradually softened into a small grin.
“Looking at your brother and his abilities, it’s easy to think he doesn’t ever feel fear, isn’t it?” Jonathan replied, before putting the gloves down on the porch as he crouched down to Jessica’s level.
“But, while his gifts and his biology might be from another world, your brother is just as human as you or I.” He continued, placing a calloused hand on his daughter’s shoulder.
“He loves and suffers heartbreak; he does, in fact, get scared. Clark has to wake up every morning, and despite not always knowing what to do, he chooses to put one foot in front of the other and try to make the best decisions he can.” Jonathan smiled, taking a quick breath.
“Your brother’s not perfect, he’s made mistakes and missteps, but that’s part of being human, and I like to think that’s Clark’s greatest strength, especially in a world so rapidly changing.” Turning to his daughter, Jonathan spoke again.
“So to answer your question, Jessie, yes, I think Clark gets scared. Probably more often than you or I.”
“So how does Clark get over his fear?”
Jonathan smiled, ruffling Jessie’s hair before taking a seat beside his daughter, wrapping an arm around her and giving her a soft squeeze.
“I can’t speak for Clark, but for myself, I don’t get over the fear. But I don’t let it control me either. Like anything, if we let it control us, it can be a bad thing. It doesn’t have to be that way, though. You can let your fear inform you and use it to help make a decision.” Jonathan explained, before turning to look down at Jessie.
“Now what is your fear telling you?”
“That this boy could really hurt someone, and if I wrote the wrong thing in the torch or if someone else was quoted as saying the wrong thing, he might come back for revenge,” Jessie replied.
“Ryan used to tell me about all the Kryptonite-infected people that Clark used to fight. Aren’t they dangerous?”
Jonathan gave Jessica a small shrug as he rubbed his head.
“Couldn’t people say the same thing about either of your brothers? Clark has his abilities, but Ryan also has his. Both of them have the potential to abuse their abilities, but they choose to use them to help people. Did this senior student intentionally set out to hurt anyone?”
The question hung between the pair for a couple of minutes before Jessie broke the silence.
“I don’t know, I guess no one asked.”
“If I learned anything about being a reporter from your brother and his friends, that seems like one of the first questions I’d ask. From there, just follow your gut and stick to the truth, kiddo.”
“I’m still scared.”
“And you still have every right to be, but you get to choose the next steps you take. Not your fear.”
Jonathan smiled as Jessica turned to him, throwing her arms around her dad’s tanned canvas coat before squeezing him in a gratitude-laden hug.
“I’m proud of you, I’m sure Clark is too.” Her Dad smiled at her, as Jessie nodded appreciatively.
“Thanks, I hope he comes home again for more banana bread.”
“Oh, I’m sure he will,” Jonathan laughed, “If there’s anything Clark enjoys, it’s making people happy, and it sounds like banana bread is certainly a highlight for this ‘Jimmy’.”
“Must be awful living in the big city, ‘specially if the bar for a good day is banana bread.”
“Why do you think I rescued your mother from it?” Jonathan asked.
“Rescued me from what?”
“Life in the big city of course,” Jonathan repeated, turning to greet Martha with a quick peck on the cheek. “How was work today?”
“Oh, you know the usual.” Martha replied, “Your son is on TV again, apparently a ‘fire woman’ is trying to rob a bank in Metropolis.”
“Clark’s on TV?” Jessie exclaimed, “C’mon, Krypto! Your daddy’s on the TV.”
“My sister was never that big of a fan of me,” Martha muttered to Jonathan. Her husband only laughed in response.
“Maybe you should try wearing on tights on TV.”
“You’re the only one who’d want to see that, old boy,” Martha replied with a playful tap on Jonathan’s cheek.
“Now let’s go see what kind of trouble found our son today.”
This a reminder you are all smart and sexy people who produce fantastic posts and I am looking forward to reading many, many, more.
“I am so clumsy!” Lex Luthor looked down at the freshly spilled coffee that drenched the long wool coat that framed his body like a menacing cloak. Ice shattered against the cafe floor before the clatter of the empty plastic cup elicited gasps from the gathered patrons. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the woman apologized profusely, grabbing a handful of napkins to wipe at the beading coffee, only making more of a mess as the wet paper tore and clung to the rough fabric and the leather of her gloves. “I’m just glad it was iced.” Lex smiled, taking hold of the woman’s hand to stop her from spreading the mess further. “I’d hate to think of the alternative,” the woman replied, withdrawing her hand with a smile. “Lexa,” she offered, “Lexa Danvers.” “Lex,” Lex replied with a smile of his own, “Lex Lu-” “Oh, I know who you are, Mr. Luthor.” Lexa replied, “Everyone in Metropolis knows the son of Lionel Luthor.” “You wound me. I assumed it was because I was the only follically challenged billionaire under forty.” “That I doubt, the rest just do something about it.” Lexa smiled, “I suppose living in your father’s shadow would be rather demoralizing. Never known for your own worth, always judged by your father. When people look at you, they simply see privilege.” “Judging by your tone, I’d say that’s not at all what you see,” deadpanned Lex. “No,” Lexa smiled, shaking her head. “I see potential. I believe you’re going to change the world, Lex Luthor.” “And I’m starting to believe that your ‘accident’ was a charade.” “Sometimes fate comes for us, sometimes we have to take it into our own hands.” Lexa smiled. “Would you like to change the world with me, Lex?” “How about we start with a cup of coffee?” Lex replied, “Yours appears to be empty.” “How astute,” Lexa replied, her green eyes sparkling like mischievous emeralds set against a face chiselled from the finest marble. Fire-like hair flowed from her head, framing her face and complementing her features. “Come to think of it, coffee would be lovely.”  “I think I love you,” Lexa rolled off of Lex as the pair collapsed against the silk sheets of Lex’s bed. What had been a few dates quickly rolled into months and then years. Now she lay beside the man of her dreams, no longer Alexandra Danvers, but instead of Alexandra Luthor. “I would certainly hope so, considering we just got married.” She smiled as Lex picked a pile of papers off the nearby nightstand. The pair had been in the midst of their latest scientific venture before the discussion of the metahuman gene and replication of extranormal abilities gave way to the throes of passion for the newlyweds. |
 ___________________________________ | “I know. I could only go so far on the theoretical side. You’re Mister Particle Physics,” Lexa stated, watching Lex read before he interrupted her, his tone dry but teasing. “-Which would probably look very odd on a driver’s license, but go ahead,” “-So,” Lexa began again, “I figured you might have an idea or two.” “Cadmus,” Lex replied, “Project Cadmus, it’s-” “I’m up to speed. The D.E.O. is aware of Project Cadmus.” “Of course, if anyone has made the kind of breakthrough into bio-engineering extranormal abilities, it would be Project Cadmus. Luthorcorp has some backdoor ties that could get us a foot in the door.” “But what about Lexcorp? I thought you were going to step out of your father’s shadow. Our dream has always been to break away from Lionel and the D.E.O. and run Lexcorp.” Lexa argued. “If we can figure out the key, when Galatea is a success, then Infinity Inc. will be at the top of every bid, and Lexcorp will be a household name.” “I want our dream to succeed too,” Lex replied, putting the papers down as he rolled onto his side and grasped his wife’s hands. “But I’m not above using the resources I currently have access to. It’d be foolish to squander them.” “I’d just hate for Lionel to find out what we’re planning. You know he’d do anything to keep you under his thumb.” |
“And what of Waller and Todd?” Lex asked. “You let me worry about the Wall and Mister Bones.”  “Hell to pay!” Lois’ words fell on deaf ears as Clark focused on the television behind her. The reporter on the screen, Cat Grant, sat situated in the middle of a desk, her plunging collar line leaving little room for interpretation as to why she was most popular with the thirty-four to fifty male demographic. |
While the volume was muted in an effort to avoid disrupting the reporter’s bullpen, Clark was able to focus his hearing through the entirety of the building before finding the room being broadcast, listening to words directly from Cat’s mouth. Even before the headline crossed the screen, Clark heard Cat warn the audience of the fire currently erupting in Midtown. This looks like a job for Superman. Moving from his chair faster than the naked eye, Clark tore down the hallway and out of the Daily Planet onto a nearby fire escape. Pulling his shirt open, the suit beneath began to activate for combat mode, its cobalt body suit accented with scarlet sunstone. His body’s radiation stores powered the alien technology covering his body—a gift from his home planet and a souvenir from his two years in space. High above Metropolis, a streak of primary colours flew through its towering skyscrapers, a blur barely noticeable by the human eye. Behind it trailed a cloud of crimson particles as Superman soared over the Big Apricot, sharply turning through the tightly packed buildings as he expertly navigated himself from the city center to Midtown. |  |
Smoke billowed above the skyline as Superman’s eyes moved towards the source of the acrid cloud of fumes. Macroscopic vision worked alongside his X-ray vision, peering both through and past the densely populated skyline as Superman located the bank. Firefighters were already on the scene as Superman surveyed the ongoing struggle. The flames were non-responsive to the bombardment of water, roaring back up at every attempt to extinguish them. Which could only mean a metahuman was nearby. Windows shattered as heat rose within the building. If this were a robbery, it had to have gone south; anything valuable inside would be incinerated by the fire. Rushing around the building, Superman took a deep breath before unleashing a freezing blast towards the flames. It did little more than momentarily quell them as he was left to locate the source. Peering through the building and flames, Superman located a woman in the middle of the inferno. He watched as she fled the scene out the back of the building. Stumbling out into the daylight of Metropolis, only to be suddenly greeted by Superman as he rushed to intercept. “I’ll burn this whole block down, boy scout.” The woman warned, flames covering her whole body. “Kelex, let's him ‘em with the Thunderdome.” Superman ordered as the cape-shaped construct made of malleable sunstone particles detached from his shoulders, and rapidly expanded. Hardening into a crystalline substance, it coated the nearby buildings in a red translucent substance, protecting both the structures and those inside while subsequently blocking any pathways of escape. “I suggest you surrender now,” Superman bellowed, “I see no reason this has to escalate.” The woman answered by throwing a gout of fire towards the Man of Steel. His suit answered, projecting a shield in front of him, the golden energy absorbing the flames. “The hard way it is then,” Superman replied, clapping his hands together as a rippling shockwave erupted from his clasped hands, nearly driving the woman backwards.  |
“I am so clumsy!” Lex Luthor looked down at the freshly spilled coffee that drenched the long wool coat that framed his body like a menacing cloak. Ice shattered against the cafe floor before the clatter of the empty plastic cup elicited gasps from the gathered patrons. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the woman apologized profusely, grabbing a handful of napkins to wipe at the beading coffee, only making more of a mess as the wet paper tore and clung to the rough fabric and the leather of her gloves. “I’m just glad it was iced.” Lex smiled, taking hold of the woman’s hand to stop her from spreading the mess further. “I’d hate to think of the alternative,” the woman replied, withdrawing her hand with a smile. “Lexa,” she offered, “Lexa Danvers.” “Lex,” Lex replied with a smile of his own, “Lex Lu-” “Oh, I know who you are, Mr. Luthor.” Lexa replied, “Everyone in Metropolis knows the son of Lionel Luthor.” “You wound me. I assumed it was because I was the only follically challenged billionaire under forty.” “That I doubt, the rest just do something about it.” Lexa smiled, “I suppose living in your father’s shadow would be rather demoralizing. Never known for your own worth, always judged by your father. When people look at you, they simply see privilege.” “Judging by your tone, I’d say that’s not at all what you see,” deadpanned Lex. “No,” Lexa smiled, shaking her head. “I see potential. I believe you’re going to change the world, Lex Luthor.” “And I’m starting to believe that your ‘accident’ was a charade.” “Sometimes fate comes for us, sometimes we have to take it into our own hands.” Lexa smiled. “Would you like to change the world with me, Lex?” “How about we start with a cup of coffee?” Lex replied, “Yours appears to be empty.” “How astute,” Lexa replied, her green eyes sparkling like mischievous emeralds set against a face chiselled from the finest marble. Fire-like hair flowed from her head, framing her face and complementing her features. “Come to think of it, coffee would be lovely.” “I think I love you,” Lexa rolled off of Lex as the pair collapsed against the silk sheets of Lex’s bed. What had been a few dates quickly rolled into months and then years. Now she lay beside the man of her dreams, no longer Alexandra Danvers, but instead of Alexandra Luthor. “I would certainly hope so, considering we just got married.” She smiled as Lex picked a pile of papers off the nearby nightstand. The pair had been in the midst of their latest scientific venture before the discussion of the metahuman gene and replication of extranormal abilities gave way to the throes of passion for the newlyweds. |
___________________________________ | “I know. I could only go so far on the theoretical side. You’re Mister Particle Physics,” Lexa stated, watching Lex read before he interrupted her, his tone dry but teasing. “-Which would probably look very odd on a driver’s license, but go ahead,” “-So,” Lexa began again, “I figured you might have an idea or two.” “Cadmus,” Lex replied, “Project Cadmus, it’s-” “I’m up to speed. The D.E.O. is aware of Project Cadmus.” “Of course, if anyone has made the kind of breakthrough into bio-engineering extranormal abilities, it would be Project Cadmus. Luthorcorp has some backdoor ties that could get us a foot in the door.” “But what about Lexcorp? I thought you were going to step out of your father’s shadow. Our dream has always been to break away from Lionel and the D.E.O. and run Lexcorp.” Lexa argued. “If we can figure out the key, when Galatea is a success, then Infinity Inc. will be at the top of every bid, and Lexcorp will be a household name.” “I want our dream to succeed too,” Lex replied, putting the papers down as he rolled onto his side and grasped his wife’s hands. “But I’m not above using the resources I currently have access to. It’d be foolish to squander them.” “I’d just hate for Lionel to find out what we’re planning. You know he’d do anything to keep you under his thumb.” |
“And what of Waller and Todd?” Lex asked. “You let me worry about the Wall and Mister Bones.” “Hell to pay!” Lois’ words fell on deaf ears as Clark focused on the television behind her. The reporter on the screen, Cat Grant, sat situated in the middle of a desk, her plunging collar line leaving little room for interpretation as to why she was most popular with the thirty-four to fifty male demographic. |
While the volume was muted in an effort to avoid disrupting the reporter’s bullpen, Clark was able to focus his hearing through the entirety of the building before finding the room being broadcast, listening to words directly from Cat’s mouth. Even before the headline crossed the screen, Clark heard Cat warn the audience of the fire currently erupting in Midtown. This looks like a job for Superman. Moving from his chair faster than the naked eye, Clark tore down the hallway and out of the Daily Planet onto a nearby fire escape. Pulling his shirt open, the suit beneath began to activate for combat mode, its cobalt body suit accented with scarlet sunstone. His body’s radiation stores powered the alien technology covering his body—a gift from his home planet and a souvenir from his two years in space. High above Metropolis, a streak of primary colours flew through its towering skyscrapers, a blur barely noticeable by the human eye. Behind it trailed a cloud of crimson particles as Superman soared over the Big Apricot, sharply turning through the tightly packed buildings as he expertly navigated himself from the city center to Midtown. | |
Smoke billowed above the skyline as Superman’s eyes moved towards the source of the acrid cloud of fumes. Macroscopic vision worked alongside his X-ray vision, peering both through and past the densely populated skyline as Superman located the bank. Firefighters were already on the scene as Superman surveyed the ongoing struggle. The flames were non-responsive to the bombardment of water, roaring back up at every attempt to extinguish them. Which could only mean a metahuman was nearby. Windows shattered as heat rose within the building. If this were a robbery, it had to have gone south; anything valuable inside would be incinerated by the fire. Rushing around the building, Superman took a deep breath before unleashing a freezing blast towards the flames. It did little more than momentarily quell them as he was left to locate the source. Peering through the building and flames, Superman located a woman in the middle of the inferno. He watched as she fled the scene out the back of the building. Stumbling out into the daylight of Metropolis, only to be suddenly greeted by Superman as he rushed to intercept. “I’ll burn this whole block down, boy scout.” The woman warned, flames covering her whole body. “Keelex, let's him ‘em with the Thunderdome.” Superman ordered as the cape-shaped construct made of malleable sunstone particles detached from his shoulders, and rapidly expanded. Hardening into a crystalline substance, it coated the nearby buildings in a red translucent substance, protecting both the structures and those inside while subsequently blocking any pathways of escape. “I suggest you surrender now,” Superman bellowed, “I see no reason this has to escalate.” The woman answered by throwing a gout of fire towards the Man of Steel. His suit answered, projecting a shield in front of him, the golden energy absorbing the flames. “The hard way it is then,” Superman replied, clapping his hands together as a rippling shockwave erupted from his clasped hands, nearly driving the woman backwards.  |
<Snipped quote by Colonel Sep>
A grievous insult these days. Best watch yourself.
I think I'd rather be English than American.
Though it's close.
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