Lord Wraith

Wraith's Little Workshop of Horrors

KRYPTON

_{Rao System - Andromeda Galaxy}
^{A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far, Far Away}

“The Council rests. Take Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van into custody for processing.”

Ro-Zan ordered as members of the Military Guild stepped forward. Suddenly, a loud splash echoed across the cold, stone floor as Lara stood there in stunned silence, a puddle between her feet, before gasping in pain as her knees began to buckle.

“Jor-” She mustered.

“Now!” Jor-El yelled as the two members of the Military Guild suddenly turned their weapons on the Council and Jax-Ur. Screams came from the dark as weapon fire illuminated the various Kryptonians seated in the audience. Jor-El rushed to his wife’s side as the roar of a jetpack overhead alerted him to the presence of a shocktrooper. Fighting against his restraints, Jor-El used his body to shield his wife before the trooper raised a weapon towards the couple.

A low-yield blast erupted from the barrel, missing Jor-El and destroying the link between the restraints. In the ensuing scuffle, Jor-El used his now-freed hands to grab the sidearm from the soldier’s hip before raising it and squeezing the trigger.

Behind the soldier echoed the sound of a weapon clattering to the floor as a member of the Science Guild dropped dead. Taking a step back, the shocktrooper raised his weapon, clearing the room before retracting his helmet’s mask.

“Zod,”

Jor-El managed to smile between breaths, “You took your time.” He added, patting the soldier’s shoulder armour as Zod returned the expression and held out a hand. A sigh escaped from between Jor-El’s lips before he took the outstretched hand and stood. Spinning around, he helped Lara back to her feet.

“We haven’t much time. It looks like Kal knows a thing or two about making a dramatic entrance.”

“A flair for the dramatic, he must be your son.” Zod smiled, guiding the couple out of the courtroom and into the open streets of Kandor. Smoke rose in the distance, catching the attention of Jor-El who looked to Zod.

“You were right about Krypton; it didn’t take much to electrify the third rail.”

“Civil War is upon us, then?”

“Aye.” Zod nodded, “The Labour Guild was all too willing to throw their lives away so that no one else should live in the squalor they’ve been forced into. I’ve gathered a few loyal battalions, but we’ve still got a long fight ahead of us. Don’t suppose your brother made any headway with allies from the Science Guild?”

“I haven’t heard from Zor-El in a while. He had to move Allura and Kara to the colonies to ensure their safety.”

“This is shiny and all, my Love, but I-” Lara cried out again, “Do believe, I’m about to give birth for the first time in a millennium.”

“Then let’s make sure this isn’t happening on the streets of Kandor.”

“How do we get out of the city? We should regroup with the others offworld.”

“I still have friends in Argo.” Zod replied, “We’ll steal away in among a departing argosy.”

“The sooner the better, gentlemen,” Lara muttered as she held onto Jor-El. He kissed her hand while keeping an arm wrapped around her, supporting his wife’s weight. The chaos from inside the council chambers had already spilled into the streets, Kandorian armed forces facing off against Zod’s loyal, while members of the Labour Guild rushed to join the fray, quickly armed by their fellow rebels. While the other Guilds possessed the coveted genetics and their accompanying abilities denied to the lowest Caste, the Labour Guild outnumbered the other four Guilds at a ratio of at least two to one.

“STOP THEM!”

“Jor, can you cover us?” Zod asked, tossing his weapon to Jor-El, who nodded in return. Scooping up Lara with ease, Zod retaliated against their pursuers with a blast of his heat vision while Jor-El laid down cover fire. Kandor was the largest city on Krypton and heavily developed, lending itself to numerous alleys and pathways through the thriving metropolis as the trio shook their tail and made their way to the nearest port.

Putting his fingers to his mouth, Jor-El whistled sharply. In the distance a howl was heard in response before Jor raised his weapon and laid down fire. Despite his best effort, Jor watched their pursuers continue to gain ground. Raising the weapon to fire, he felt it suddenly jam, a combination of steam and smoke rising out of the chamber as the overheated thermal clip ejected to cool.

Nodding to Zod, Jor-El urged him to continue, Lara cried in protest as Jor-El simply yelled over the din.

“Kal must survive.”

“You have my word, Jor,” Zod replied, “I will spare the child the war so he can be the future that neither of us will see.”

With a nod, Jor-El took a hold of the firearm and swung it, shattering the helmet on the nearest guard. Delivering another hard blow with the butt of the rifle, he drove back the next assailant until the weapon came back to life as the thermal clip was reinserted.

Raising the weapon, he felt heat slice through his arm. A cry of anguish echoed through Kandor as Jor-El stumbled, nearly dropping his weapon. The hum of armed weapons being trained on him caused him to look through the fog of pain, as the last of their pursuers moved to arrest him.

Until suddenly a white wolf was atop of them.

Cloned from an ancient Kryptonian species, the beast was stronger, faster and more capable than any of the Caste born.

“Krypto!” Jor-El managed, taking another breath. He looked towards the Kandorian guards with a smug smile before speaking again.

“Tear them to shreds.”

EARTH

_{Sol System - Milky Way Galaxy}
^Previously

“Jimmy!”

Lois pointed from the bow of the small rigid inflatable boat, gesturing for her hired stringer to follow the direction of her barely visible hand as she pointed towards the elevated deck of the Excelsior.

Another flash of red illuminated the night, the blast barely audible over the sound of crashing waves in the Metropolis Harbour. Surrounding the hull of the cargo ship were small crafts of an unknown make to Lois. They weren’t conventional jetskis, and they weren’t something she’d seen growing up on military bases.

“Did you get that, Jimmy?”

“I actually prefer Ja-”

“Did you get that?”

“Lois, I can’t see a thing out here.”

“On the deck, weapons I don’t recognize,” Lois gestured, “Look they have lasers and space jetskis,”

“So what do they want with a Luthorcorp ship?”

“You’re assuming those aren’t from the ship, Jimmy!” Lois countered as they killed the engine and floated atop the rocking waves.

“Get recording, night vision, I want to see everything they’re taking from the ship.” Lois ordered as James held his camera steady.

“Long as you’re paying, you got it, boss.”

“Enough lip, Jimmy,” Lois retorted, “Give me the DLR, I want to get some snaps of that big crate.”

“Looks like it’s an AmerTek.” Jimmy muttered as Lois clicked the shutter a couple of times.

“Yeah, so there’s definitely a story there. What was Luthorcorp transporting for AmerTek and who are these guys, why do they want it?”

“Probably just a random hit.”

“There’s nothing random about this, Jimmy.” Lois snapped back, “That’s some serious hardware those guys are packing and this is not where you’d dock a ship.”

“Pirates then?”

“In Metropolis? Get your head out of your ass, Jimmy.” Lois looked down on the camera, examining the photos she had taken before pressing the zoom. “There’s a number on the crate, I bet we can get this cross referenced.”

“How?”

“People owe me favours,” Lois replied, “Where are the authorities? I tipped them off half an hour ago.”

“Why are you worried about the police?” Jimmy snickered, “Thor will show up any second now,”

“Oh not you too,” Lois replied, “Guy is just a gloryhound with a chip on his shoulder. These superheroes are no replacement for actual law and order. They aren’t the police and they aren’t a courtroom. We have these systems in place for a reason, even if they are broken, they’re not as broken as taking the law into your own hands. If he actually wanted to help, he’d work with the system, help fix it. Not, well whatever it is he does.”

“You’re not a fan of the big guy then?”

“If you ask me, he’s likely not that big, and no, I prefer men in a uniform who have earned it, thank you.” Lois replied re-dialling the police.

“9-1-1, What’s your emergency?”

“I need police, there’s a Luthorcorp ship, the Excelsior-”

The line suddenly went dead.

“Definitely not a random hit.

EARTH

_{Sol System - Milky Way Galaxy}
^Now

“Metropolis does not need a man in a silly red cape to save it.”

The press stood gathered outside of the front steps of the Daily Planet as Lionel Luthor roared from the temporary podium erected in front of the brass trimmed revolving door.

“The newspaper is supposed to be informative and reflect the opinions of the people. Not the swooning of a schoolgirl crush. I don’t know what editor approved this front page, but this derivative dribble belongs in the Inquisitor.” A mirthless chuckle rumbled from his throat as cameras flashed from every angle. The Mayoral candidate had caused quite the fuss with his impromptu press conference, leaving his opponent, Bradford Sackett, little time to prepare.

“Like Metropolis, the Daily Planet needs a strong guiding hand and for that reason, I have begun the process of acquiring the Daily Planet. Much like Luthorcorp’s twin towers, the Daily Planet is a feature of Metropolis’s skyline. Should it not reflect the city it dwells within?”

“The same city where just last night one of my cargo ships was attacked. Where was Thor then? The entire crew that was aboard that ship is missing, gone without a trace. Our hearts are with their families, and I personally am pledging a year’s salary to the families to help should the worst come to pass. I pray that it won’t, but I won’t be praying to Thor.“

Lionel hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath.

“These so-called superheroes are appearing all across this great country, but who are they accountable to? And what of the escalation they incur? First we have extraordinary vigilantes, then we’ll have superhuman criminals? What’s to stop someone like Thor from having a bad day and attacking civilians. Where are the checks and balances? The accountability?”

A murmur went through the crowd, most of them suddenly finding themselves agreeing with Lionel.

“When I am your Mayor, I will be working closely with Commissioner Henderson and we will be drafting a Vigilante Registration Act. If these people want to uphold the law, they will do so while wearing a badge and under the scrutiny of the people. Not by hiding in the shadows or through exposés. Who elected Thor?” Lionel yelled, met with a chorus of agreement as the crowd began to engage with the mayoral candidate.

“Crime has in fact risen in Metropolis since the appearance of a red-hooded hero. Instead of helping our fair city, he’s proven to be a lightning rod for trouble. As of this moment, I am calling for the immediate arrest of Thor and am putting out a reward. A thousand dollars to anyone who provides a tip that proves useful regarding his identity, a million to anyone who can bring him in.”

Cheers rose up from the crowd, drowning out protests from Sackett as the incumbent mayor scrambled for the microphone.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” He hissed at Lionel, “The chaos you’ve just brought to our streets?” Bradford argued, “How many dead boys in red hoodies is it going to take for you to call off your witch hunt?”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Mayor,” Lionel patted Sackett on the back, “Thor started wearing armour, he doesn’t parade around in a hoodie anymore.” He smiled before speaking into the microphone again.

“It’s time to take back our city.”

Wraith's Little Workshop of Horrors

UNKNOWN

_{The Black (Uncharted Space) - Andromeda Galaxy}
^{Two Years Ago}

<Transmission of Interest, ‘Queue: KR36’>

<Crosschecking databases>

<Match Located>

<Connection Established ‘Queue: Xandarian Worldmind’>

<Uploading>

<’KR36’ is a security code that identifies a Kryptonian>

<Data Inconclusive>

<Statement: No Kryptonians exist in the known galaxy>

<Correction: No Kryptonians exist in the Andromeda Galaxy.>

<Query: Where did the Kryptonian come from?>

<Status: Discovery Mode Active>

<Execute Probe Deployment>

EARTH

_{Sol System - Milky Way Galaxy}
^Now

Wind whipped his scarf about roughly in the stillness of the cool, dark night. The subtle hum of the alien hoverbike between his knees was the only thing close to a source of warmth above the rolling waves of the Atlantic as the alien craft skimmed above the white caps towards the large cargo ship.

It would have almost been fun, had Kyle Abbot not been on the job.

Edge had tipped off Intergang to the location of the Excelsior hours ago, and with Metropolis’ so-called hero tied up elsewhere, Dame Moxie ordered her agents of the Dark Faith to strike. The Excelsior lay moored outside the city’s limits, hidden in the shadow of Hell’s Gate. Luthor had practically giftwrapped the vessel for them by having it anchored hidden out behind the crime-ridden borough.

Killing the engines, the hoverbikes glided to a stop silently before each member of Intergang activated their climbing gear and effortlessly scaled the hull. No sooner had their feet silently hit the deck then the subtle hum of drawn weapons could be heard amplified by the miles of open water.

Lights illuminated the deck, armed crew members raising their conventional weapons and opening fire. But the bullets bounced harmlessly against a rapidly deployed Shi’ar field deployable forcefield. Raising their own weapons, Intergang returned fire, the Kree Distingrators making short work of the Luthorcorp employees, leaving nothing but a couple piles of dust behind. The crew barely had time to realize what had happened before they were gone in a flurry of red energy bolts.

Their ashes were quickly swept out to sea by the night breeze.

“I’d love to see what these would do to that punk in the hoodie.”

“Shut up and be thankful we have no interruptions tonight.” Dame Moxie snapped as she surveyed her crew. “A’Daire and Manheim, secure the lower decks, take whomever you need.” Without a sound, Whisper and Bruno departed, signalling for two others to flank them as they headed forward.

“Abbot!” Moxie roared, “Search the crates, Edge said that AmerTek was transporting a weapon made of a unique alloy. If that weapon is what I think it is, then there’s a far greater prize at stake. Take Donovan, and don’t stop looking until you’ve searched down to every rivet on this vessel.”

Abbot nodded his head, drawing a Ungaran sequencer and began walking the deck. Donovan trailed behind him, a twitchy hand still nervously held over his weapon.

“How do we know the kid in the hoodie won’t show up?”

“We don’t, but this isn’t his stomping grounds. Edge insured Luthor kept the Excelsior on this side of the city for a reason.”

“Awful lot of trust in Luthor.”

“I’d be more worried about Edge,” Abbot replied, “Especially if he realizes we’re not actually after a weapon.”

“Heh,” chuckled Donovan, “Glory to the First, brother,”

“Glory to the First.” Abbot replied, walking between another row of crates before suddenly the Ungaran sequencer began to light up. “I've got P.L.O.T. energy signals on this crate. According to the readout there’s a high concentration of chronically charged trans-dimensional radiation.” He stated, motioning for Donovan to grab the other edge and help him pry it open.

“Plot?” The other man asked with a strained grunt.

“Phased Levels of Oscillating Temporal Energy,” Kyle replied, matter-of-factly, “It’s a signature that denotes objects or beings of anachronistic or extradimensional origin.” The creaking of nails being dragged out of wood echoed in the night as the lid atop the crate was pulled open.

“The variance in oscillation between the phases can determine whether the point of interest is chronologically displaced or dimensionally. Often however, it’s a combination of both.” He continued to explain, only stopping upon seeing the dumbfounded look on Donovan’s face.

The lid slid off with one last push between the two men, clattering onto the deck before they peered inside.

Inside the crate was a long handled weapon forged of a material that Kyle didn’t recognize. The strange metal pulsed a primordial energy, forged eons before life began on Earth. The handle ended in a curve and was topped with a two sided head. One side was adorned with a decorated axe blade, large and curved while the other side was bulbous and ridged, shaped like a maul. Runes not unlike Elder Futhark ran down the head of the weapon spelling out the name ‘Járnbjörn’.

“Quite the weapon, but I think I’d rather stick to firearms.” Donovan snickered as Kyle shook his head.

“You wouldn’t be able to wield it anyways,” Abbot smiled smugly, “That weapon would find you unworthy. It’s not a blunt instrument that can be wielded by anyone. In those unworthy, it curses them and drives the wielder to insatiable blood lust.” Kyle hovered a hand above it, the temptation to grab the handle and swing the axe nearly overwhelming.

Whispers seemed to crawl into his ears, urging him to give him. Words of strength, triumph, wealth and desire threatened to lull him to submission. He closed his hand, pulling it back quickly, his head silencing again.

“This is the weapon of the Immortal.” Abbot muttered, “Only he should wield it.”

“Then why are we looking at it?”

“Because, it is what’s beneath the axe we’re after.” Kyle explained, carefully pulling away the packing beneath the axe to reveal a book shaped object encased in a stone cover.

“Fellow brother of the Dark Faith, I present to you, the First’s copy of the Crime Bible.”

“Why would AmerTek have any of this?”

“They didn’t know what they had,” Abbot smiled, pulling the book from the packaging and holding it in his hands. He traced the cover, his middle finger gingerly touching a slit in the center of the book. It was heavy in his hands, nearly weighing thirty pounds by Kyle’s estimate.

“Dame Moxie, we have the High Madame’s Binding and the axe.” Abbot reported, tapping the communicator fixed behind his ear.

“Then we’re one step closer,” Moxie replied, “Load the rest of the crates and scuttle the ship.”

“How are we only one step closer?” Donovan asked as he helped Abbot replace the lid on the crate. Abbot looked at him with a smile, his reply sending a chill down Donovan’s spine.

“Until we can unlock the cover of stone and complete the five lessons of blood, only then will The First be freed.”

KNOWHERE

_{Edge of Galactic Rim - Andromeda Galaxy}
^{Two Years Ago}

“A Kryptonian?”

The speaker sat atop a throne, while the Nova Corps member delivered his report of the strange man at the gate. It wasn’t an alien name that Tanaleer Tivan was familiar with, and that made him want the stranger all the more.

“Hmm, yes, I must have him. You were right to bring him to me,” Tanaleer stated excitedly, “Put a bounty out. All channels, I want him alive, preferably in perfect condition.”

“What if the Main Man brings the Bastiche back, say mostly alive?” A large figure asked, stepping out of the shadows. A cigar hung loosely between a pair of black lips surrounded by a beard still matted with dried blood. Tanaleer cocked his head to the side thoughtfully before responding mirthfully.

“We can make due with mostly being alive.”

Wraith's Little Workshop of Horrors

EARTH

_{Sol System - Milky Way Galaxy}
^{Ten Years Ago}

“Clark, go long,”

Ryan whispered, knowing only his brother could hear him. At the snap, Clark launched from the scrimmage line. They were down by only a few points, and a single touchdown could win them the game against Metropolis.

There was no doubt in Clark’s mind that they could win; he was faster than every other player on the field, and it wasn’t even a fair contest. It had been a long point of contention for their father whether Clark could even play ethically.

There would always be that push to run a little faster, hit just a little harder.

Ryan was always there to cover for Clark, though, not to say there hadn’t been a few close calls. It was hard for Clark to remember to fall when he was hit, often allowing someone to just bounce off of him, catching a few wayward states. There were even times when Clark had to quickly dose himself with a water bottle to hide the fact that he hadn’t broken a sweat all game.

Pushing through the Metropolis players, Clark broke free of the line of scrimmage, easily outpacing his pursuers while waiting for the Ryan’s ‘Hail Mary’ throw. A low whistle caught his keen ears as Ryan let out the subtle sound before the spiralling of the football drowned it out.

Without even looking, Clark tracked the ball’s trajectory, turning at the last moment before jumping into the air, taking care not to defy gravity completely. Cradling the ball against his chest, Clark allowed himself to fall back to Earth, effortlessly gliding into the end zone.

“The Kent boys have done it again!” The announcer roared over the ecstatic crowd. “The Crows overtaking the Tigers as the clock strikes zero!”

From centerfield, Ryan watched as the Crows’ cheerleaders exploded, his girlfriend and head cheerleader, Lana Lang, leading the squad in celebration all while never breaking eye contact with him. From the end zone, Clark hooted happily before running to center field as the brothers high-fived excitedly.

There were days it was very easy to resent Clark and everything he could do. But in this moment, Ryan had everything he could have ever wanted. A championship before graduation, Clark and him as equals, Lana Lang on his arm.

Yeah.

His life was pretty much perfect.

EARTH

_{Sol System - Milky Way Galaxy}
^{Nine Years Ago}

The football twirled through the air, landing in the hands of Whitney Fordman before the blonde young man hurled it towards Ryan Kent. Flashing a grin beneath a tousled mop of sandy rust-tinged hair, the younger man turned and sent the ball flying towards Pete Ross.

It felt good to be out here tossing around the pigskin with familiar faces. The championship felt like a lifetime of shovelling manure away. Watching all of his friends up and leave Smallville to chase education and careers elsewhere, with Ryan feeling completely left behind. His parents last lifeline to keep the farm going with the unspoken acknowledgement that Clark was destined for greater things.

The quad was alive with new and returning students alike as the three friends passed the ball between themselves. In Smallville, they had been a couple of big fish in a small pond, but here, in Metropolis, they were basically pond scum.

Rednecks from less than nowhere in the middle of the nowhere that was Kansas.

Ryan already knew his parents couldn’t afford to send him to Metropolis University, with Clark already attending, they were barely keeping ahead at the farm. But when Chloe and Pete offered for Ryan to tag along and see the campus for the weekend, he couldn’t turn them down.

The trio had set out on a road trip, piling into Pete’s van, his girlfriend Lana and former teammate Whitney in tow as they headed cross-country. Delaware itself was a long way from Kansas, both geographically and culturally. Metropolis was the glistening crown jewel of the East Coast, a city sitting on the precipice of utopia. Crime rates were nearly nonexistent even before a hooded hero took it to be his primary mission to eliminate what little crime did happen here.

The golden globe atop the Daily Planet glistened in the sunlight, illuminated like a beacon signalling all was right amidst the ivory towers and art deco-inspired skyscrapers that adorned much of the Big Apricot’s skyline. The only building that dared cast a shadow over the Planet was the twin towers of Luthorcorp, the tallest skyscrapers in Metropolis. Luthorcorp Plaza sat next to the Daily Planet, and if the Planet’s globe was the beacon, then the pair of L-shaped buildings were the harbingers.

Originally a pesticide company, Luthorcorp was able to rapidly expand in record time, growing into all fields of agriculture before moving to genetic tailoring and eventually bioengineering. Everyone in Metropolis knew the story of Lionel Luthor, born in Suicide Slum with nary a penny to his name until an unfortunate accident left him in possession of his parents’ life insurance. Lionel was able to take that small sum and turn it into a fortune that supplied crops that could not only grow, but also continually produce in even the harshest environments.

Luthorcorp products had kept Smallville going after the meteors destroyed most of the farm land, turning the Cream Corn Capital into the Meteor Rock Capital of America. Much to his begrudging parents' chagrin, if it hadn’t been for Luthorcorp, the Kent farm wouldn’t have been able to recover its crops and maintain its livestock.

That probably would have been the end of the Kents’ interactions with the Luthors had Clark and Lex not met.

The maniac with the Porsche.

That’s what their Dad always called Lex. The younger Luthor had been racing in the rain, likely to a late-night hookup, while Clark, being Clark, had decided to brood on Loeb Bridge. Between the rain, the setting sun and the speed Lex had been driving at, it was no surprise that he had hit Clark at eighty miles per hour before the pair plunged into the Elbow River.

No one but Clark knew the details of what happened next, but Ryan knew the gist was that his brother had pulled Lex from the car and both walked away unscathed. Though when it came to Clark, Ryan found that somewhat less impressive.

“Good catch, quarterback,” mocked Pete, snapping the absent-minded Ryan back to the present as the ball went past his outstretched hand before colliding with a freshly purchased iced coffee. The drink exploded onto the blouse of its own as Pete hurriedly ran up to the attractive woman, apologizing profusely.

“My bad for trusting the Crows’ season-winning quarterback to throw a ball,” Pete stated, flashing a million-dollar smile towards the woman, “Perhaps Clark was the real star all along.” He teased Ryan, turning his face back towards the raven-haired amazon in front of him, ignorant of the glare that had crossed Ryan’s face while the Kent’s biological son stared at the back of Pete’s head, suddenly wishing he had his brother’s heat vision.

When they were younger, Clark had been sickly and often needed Ryan to interject. As they grew, that dynamic changed. Clark developed in ways that none of them could have foreseen and became gifted far beyond any of the other so-called heroes flying around Earth. But Ryan often felt unnecessary, like he wasn’t supposed to be part of his brother’s life, nay, like he couldn’t be a part of his brother’s life anymore.

He couldn’t fly into space, and he couldn’t lift a tractor with one hand. It was a mystery to Ryan why Clark didn’t just stand a little taller sometimes; he could have had anything or anyone he wanted. How Clark didn’t end up with Lana was going to baffle Ryan forever, but he was grateful that his brother from the stars didn’t come to Earth to build a harem.

“Where are my manners? Let me get you some napkins,” Pete’s voice rang out as Ryan’s friend continued, handing the aforementioned napkins to the woman while she brushed herself off.

“My name is Pete, Pete Ross.” He added, riding the coattails of his mother’s position. There wasn’t a person in Smallville who hadn’t heard of Judge Ross. Unfortunately for Pete, they weren’t in Smallville.

“Sorry, you said that like it should mean something.” The woman replied, “Should it have?”

“Uh,” Pete stammered suddenly, rubbing the back of his head, “No, it’s just I wanted to make sure it was memorable.”

“Oh, the name not so much, hun,” The woman smirked, “But the blushing and the squirming, I’ll remember that.”

“C’mon, you’ve at least got to give me your name,”

“I ain’t gotta do anything, hun,” The woman smiled, a couple chuckles echoing around Pete from Whitney and Ryan.

“But I’ll take some pity on you, Nat Irons,” The woman said, folding her arms over her chest, “And yes, that is Irons as in AmerTek Industries’ Henry Irons.”

“Did she say AmerTek?” Whitney suddenly asked from beside Ryan, “My Dad’s been obsessed with their guns since his time as a Marine. Keeps a copy of Henry Iron’s biography on his desk ‘Man of Steel’,”

“Aren’t they our current defense contractor?”

“They are, and my Daddy’d probably sign that for you,” Nat called to Ryan and Whitney, “I got ears, I ain’t deaf.”

“This guy’ll be here playing for the Sharks,” Ryan said, patting Whitney around the shoulders, “I don’t think Metropolis is in my future.”

“Shame, wouldn’t mind seeing a tall drink of water like you around again,” Nat replied, “Whatever they feed them in K-state, it does well.” She smiled before turning to Pete, “‘Cept you, you’s still a growing boy, ya gotta eat.” Nat winked, “Have a good day, Pete Ross.”

“You boys making friends?”

The familiar voice made Ryan jump as Chloe and Lana joined the three males just while they were watching Pete pick his jaw back up off the floor.

“I think I’m in love.”

“‘Course you are, Pete, ‘course you are,” Ryan replied, patting him on the back before planting a playful kiss on Lana.

“How’d your tour go?”

“It was good, Chloe has quite the salespitch, but I think I’d rather stay closer to home., Her friend Lori did, however, invite us all out for dinner.” Lana replied, “She’s apparently taken quite the shine to Clark, I think you’ll like her.”

“Well then I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Lionel, you're a hard man to get a hold of.”

The voice boomed across the large office as a well-built figure in a finely tailored maroon suit pulled open both glass doors, striding into the office with the authority and pomp that one might possess if they owned the building. Once dark hair stained with silver was cut into a tidy fade with a well-coiffed quiff, while a meticulously maintained moustache adorned his upper lip.

“Morgan,” Lionel answered, not bothering to look up from the laptop in front of him. “To what do I owe the displeasure of this visit? With the media circus already circling for blood in the water, you’re certainly not doing me any favours darkening my door.”

The head of Luthorcorp’s response elicited a throaty chuckle from Morgan Edge as he continued towards Lionel’s desk. He paused, an odd looking knife, seemingly made out of welded scrap metal and adorned green crystalline rock through its hilt, sat on a nearby shelf catching his attention before he turned to respond.

“Perhaps not, but we both know they won't be able to tie us to any illicit activities, let alone together.”

Lionel stood, closing his laptop slowly before making his way over to the nearby bar.

“Indeed, but I assume this visit is more than a show of bravado?” He smiled, pouring two glasses from a nearby decanter. “I procured this on my latest visit to Japan. Surprisingly good whisky.”

“Grown on Luthorcorp fields no doubt.” Edge nodded with a smile.

“Yes, and artificially aged using our latest in bio-engineering. Even the finest sommelier couldn't tell the difference between this and a fifty-year-old Scotch.”

“Most impressive, Lionel,” Edge saluted, taking a sip, swirling the drink around in his mouth while sniffing the glass. The rich, smokey and woody aroma was only matched by the taste. Lionel was right, it was impossible to tell the difference.

“If you had told me nearly forty years ago, you were going to make artificially aged whisky, I would have called you a loon and suggested they toss you in Arkham.” Edge smiled, “But you’ve come up with quite the lucrative business all things considered, a great man renowned world wide. Kings will come to your funeral.” The moustached man allowed himself a small laugh.

“You should have gone for Senator, not Mayor of Metropolis.”

“Maybe I’ll aim higher when I retire. Luthorcorp is still growing and I have much to prepare before my heir can assume his reign.”

“The cameras love Lex, the populace love him. He’s a smart lad, and the work he’s doing with Sentinel-One and Project Hope,” Morgan kissed his fingers, “Top notch if I do say so myself.”

“His time in Smallville proved most fortuitous,” Lionel replied, “It wasn’t without its storms, but Lex came out the other side a man with a glorious burden.”

“It’s funny you should say that,” Edge chuckled darkly, sitting down and kicking his feet up. “Metropolis has been going through some remarkably stormy weather lately, but I believe clearer days are ahead.” He took a long sip of his drink before looking directly at Lionel.

“Does Ugly still work for you?”

“Hmm, yes, I do believe so.” Lionel replied, “He’s been working out very well, he’s in charge of receiving our at Cadmus Labs on the South Docks. Expecting a shipment tonight from AmerTek marked for Infinity Incorporated.”

“Odd, I could have sworn there wasn't anything on the docket,” Morgan remarked, taking a long and intentional sip of his whisky.

Scratching his tidy beard, Lionel replied thoughtfully.

“Now that you mention it, with everything that's been happening on Metropolis, the ship was just reported lost. It must have slipped my mind, we’re all quite devastated afterall.”

“Shame,” Edge answered with a subtle smirk. “Thank you for the drink Lionel. That really is damn fine whisky. You have my support, Mr. Mayor.” Morgan stated, as he stood, walking towards the door while Lionel called out after him.

“Always a pleasure, Morgan.”

Wraith's Little Workshop of Horrors

KNOWHERE

_{Edge of Galactic Rim - Andromeda Galaxy}
^{Two Years Ago}

Knowhere was like nothing Clark had seen on Earth. The city within the skull stood before him like something out of a dystopian cyberpunk novel. Ships of all shapes and sizes moved in lanes all around the suspended walkways as Rocket led Clark further into the strange place. Neon-like lighting cast various hues and colours, some of which Clark had never seen, on the buildings around them before the oversized rodent-like creature came to a stop at a door.

Wrapping his knuckles against the metal surface in a distinct pattern, it suddenly slid open, bringing Clark face to face with what he could only describe as a life-sized version of a cereal mascot. Standing nearly a head taller than Clark was a broad-shouldered, feline-like creature, complete with sabre-teeth protruding from its top lip and hooking over the bottom. It looked from Rocket to Clark and back to Rocket again before black lips parted to release a low rumbling growl.

“Private establishment.” The alien stated, a thunderous voice rumbled from its throat. “Rocket knows better.”

“C’mon on Taghurrhu, kid can help. Tanked a blow from the Pulse Dancer like it was nothin’.” Rocket argued, “Bet he could take your Karnan tail without breaking a pant.”

“Hey, whoa,” Clark interjected, “I don’t think there’s any need for that.”

“Are you challenging me, Terran?” Taghurrhu asked, pushing Rocket aside as the towering alien ducked under the doorframe and stood over Clark. “You’re not even worthy of being used as a toothpick.”

“I’m not looking for a fight,” Clark repeated, holding his ground as the Karnan brought his face down to Clark’s level. Suddenly, he struck, claw hands swung through the air without warning. Despite the alien’s immense mass, he moved with the swiftness and agility Clark would have expected out of a cat.

But Clark was still faster.

Time seemed to stop for a second as he was afforded what felt like a few precious seconds to react. His perception and reaction times amplified to the point that at times, it felt like the whole world was moving in slow motion. He stepped back, avoiding the first swing, before side-stepping the clumsy follow-up.

From the doorway, Rocket watched amused as Taghurrhu struggled to even touch the kid.

Clark had fought individuals who had strength rivalling his own before. But when Taghurrhu finally did manage to land a blow, the Earth-raised young man was surprised by how far he found himself thrown back. Toppling over the edge of the path, Clark felt himself become victim to gravity, plummeting several layers through Knowhere before finally reversing course as he flew back to where he had been sent from.

“Quite the trick.” The Karnan growled.

“You’ll find I’m full of them,” Clark replied, catching Taggurrhu’s next blow. His fingers interlocked with the other’s claws, twisting the beastman’s wrist and eliciting a cry of pain. Instead of simply throwing the Karnan’s blow back at him, Clark made a point of stopping him dead before dragging the alien towards himself, before finally hoisting him above his head before dropping the feline-like figure to the ground and dusting himself off.

“Do you want to keep dancing, or can we talk now?”

“You little-”

A shot rang into the air, cutting Taghurruhu off and stopping him dead in his tracks as Clark was treated to a cybernetic rabbit in the door now pointing a firearm his way.

“That’s enough, Rocket’s made his point. The Captain’ll hear his proposition now.”

“Fine,” Tagghurrhu growled as he picked himself up, “But we’re having a rematch, Terran.”

“Clark,” Clark replied, holding out a hand as Tagghurrhu stared at the strange gesture.

“Oh, uh gee, sorry, it’s an Earth gesture. You shake it.” Clark explained, “It’s how we make a pact, or introduce ourselves.”

Tagghurrhu narrowed his eyes briefly before wrapping a large paw around Clark’s wrist and shaking it from side to side.

“You will honour the rematch then?” The Karnan asked.

“I will, as soon as I finish helping Rocket,” Clark replied.

“Good luck,” Tagghurrhu replied with a fang-filled smile. “You’ll need more than tricks on Warworld.”

“Warworld?” Clark repeated the word apprehensively, “Rocket!” He called, giving chase as the pair entered the establishment. It took Clark a second to adjust as the smoky atmosphere hit his senses with too many new smells all at once. Foods, drinks and other recreational substances wafted from every direction as something akin to music droned in the background.

“What’d the big tiger back there mean? What do you need help with?”

“Search and rescue,” Rocket replied as he continued to follow the cybernetic rabbit in front of him.

“My partner, Groot, was taken by the Tivan Group as collateral after we failed to procure Anulax batteries from the Sovereign for Taneleer. Tanleer, ‘the Collector’, had debts of his own to the Monguls, and Groot was donated as a contestant in the blood sports on Warworld. If you’re half as tough as I think you are, you can get us in the door.”

There was that name again, and Clark couldn’t help but ask the question on the tip of his tongue.

“What is Warworld?”

“It’s a mobile weaponized satellite, large enough to be a small planet, complete with a rulin’ society of scrutholes known as Overseers who are second only to the Monguls.” Rocket stated,

“Planet itself is completely artificial, and as, even you can imagine, a planet-sized weapon requires a ridiculous amount of upkeep.”

They passed the bar before descending some stairs towards a lower level.

“Working to a fiery death with no benefits or union ain’t exactly a gig anyone in the ‘verse is signin’ up for. So the Monguls abduct slaves from all over the galaxy. But to placate the slaves, they give them a chance at freedom through the ‘Games’ and host horrific fights that are broadcast across most of ‘Dromeda.”

“And you want to get me entered in the games?”

Rocket smiled.

“Just when I was starting to think you weren’t that bright, but bingo, Terran.”

“Clark actually, Clark Kent.”

“Yeah, whatever, we’re here,” Rocket replied with a wave of his paw. “What’s his mood like today, Blackjack?” The raccoon-like alien asked the cyborg bunny. Clark pinched himself briefly just to ensure he hadn’t inhaled one too many alien fumes and was, in fact, seeing anthropomorphic creatures talking to one another.

“See for yourself, 89P13.”

“Rocket,” retorted Clark’s company as the rabbit simply smiled.

“Oh, I know.”

“Slaggin’ Leproid,” Rocket grumbled as the cybernetically enhanced Lepi quickly hit the access panel with the back of his paw, opening the chamber in front of Clark and Rocket. Stepping inside, Clark was surprised to see the silhouette of another set of tall ears before the light revealed another anthropomorphic rabbit. Unlike the one that Rocket had called Blackjack, this one lacked any cyberware but stood much taller, nearly as tall as Clark.

“Captain Marchew.” Rocket saluted, “This is our answer to getting Groot back from the Monguls.”

“Yes, you gave Taghurrhu quite the run at the door, I’m impressed.” The Lepi replied, “Please, Clark, have a seat. Captain Rodg’y Marchew at your service. I think we can definitely help each other.”

“You know my name?” Clark asked, settling in as Rocket opted to stand, staying by the door.

“Big ears,” Rodg’y winked, “Part of my own enhancements, but that’s neither here nor there. If you were to help us, knowing it would be no easy task to not only infiltrate Warworld, but also liberate our comrade, what could we do for you in return?”

“Frankly, sir, I’m just on a mission to discover what I am. If I can help you folks out while I do that, then that’s reward enough.”

“That’s very kind of you, Clark, not a lot of beings in the ‘verse operate with that sense of altruism.” Marchew responded, “Seems you triggered a little incident at the scanners, though. Do you happen to recall what they said you were? Seemed like quite the alarm going off.”

“It wasn’t a word I was familiar with, Sir.” Clark replied, “Cryptic? Cryptonese? Cryptonian? Yes, Cryptonian.”

“Kryptonian?” Rodg’y scoffed, “That's impossible; no one has seen a Kryptonian in the galaxy for at least a couple of centuries. Whole planets have gained space travel in the time those tyrants have been gone. Blew themselves up before the Dheronians hunted down the last of ‘em.” A shrug from the Lepi followed a notable pause.

“So I heard.”

“Besides, you can’t be Kryptonian, they’re supposed to be big and scary, red eyes. The galaxy’s unstoppable boogey man. You look like a standard Terran.” Rocket piped up, “If you were Kryptonian, I wouldn't advertise it. Whole lotta mean folks out there looking to cash in on your head. Our buddy Taneleer among them.”

“Rocket’s right, you don’t want that kind of target on your back, though it is an interesting angle that could help get you onto Warworld. The Last Son of Krypton has quite the ring to it.”

“Easy there, Captain Carrot.” Rocket raised a paw, “You put a title like that on the kid you’re basically beggin’ the Collector to break the door down.” He let out a sigh.

“Let's not go making false claims just yet, just say he’s like a Terran version of a ‘Super Skrull’.”

“A Super-Man?”

“It could stick.”

“This is great and all,” Clark interjected, “But what exactly is the plan?”

“Clark makes a valid point,” Marchew replied, “You’ve already met Ja’k and Taghurrhu. How about we meet the rest of the crew before we get too ahead of ourselves?”

“Who are you guys anyway?”

“Most of us are from the Zu system, so around here we’re known as the Zu Crew, but officially, there is one other name we call ourselves,” Marchew explained, motioning for Clark to follow as they passed through another corridor before emerging into a hangar. Held in the middle of the bay was a large ship unlike anything Clark had ever seen in any science fiction back on Earth.

“Clark,” Rodg’y spread his arms,

“Welcome to the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

Wraith's Little Workshop of Horrors

EARTH

_{Sol System - Milky Way Galaxy}
^{Fifteen Years Ago}

“Ryan!”
“Clark!”
“Dinner!”

Martha’s call echoed over the field as Jonathan slowly climbed the steps to the wrap-around porch that surrounded the red brick farmhouse. The laughter of the two young boys echoed over the rolling grassy knolls, the cattle lowing at the pair while they raced towards the house.

Ryan was in the lead. The boy was every bit the red-blooded man his father was, dusty, strawberry blonde hair glistening in the sunlight, the perfect combination of Martha’s red and Jonathan’s blonde. Even for his young age, Ryan was athletic and well-built, broad and lean like a quarterback.

Clark, on the other hand…

Martha held a hand over her heart as the dark-haired boy emerged several paces behind his brother. Beads of sweat dotted his little face, his cheeks were flushed bright red, and his mouth hung open, breathing heavily. Lanky and running like he had a body he hadn’t yet grown into, Clark was certainly a lot more awkward than his brother.

Fishing his puffer from his pocket, Martha handed the small cylinder to Clark as he approached, watching the young boy inhale a couple of breaths before beginning to breathe a little easier.

“You’re so slow,” teased Ryan, jumping into the porch swing.

“Your brother is just gifted in other ways,” Martha chided gently, “Remember your art projects?”

“So he’s a bit of a dweeb, Clark gets all the good grades.”

“Hey, what’d we say about calling your brother a dweeb?” Jonathan scolded, “It’s okay to be different; if everyone were the same, we’d miss out on something beautiful.”

“Pete said he was a dweeb, too.” Ryan giggled, “Sarah Braverman said Clark has two left feet and walks like a newborn colt.”

“Ryan,” Martha’s tone was full of disappointment.

“Son, Clark is the only brother you have in this world, and the same goes for you, Clark,” Jonathan’s eyes met Martha’s as the pair exchanged a small look before he continued.

“When all else fails, I expect the two of you to have each other's backs. When the other kids are saying mean things about him, I expect you to stand up for Clark, not pile on.”

Ryan let out a long exhale of annoyance, his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head.

“Don’t worry, Dad, Lana stuck up for him.”

“Ryan, that’s not the point your father is making-”
“Lana and Clark, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Ryan sang, sticking his tongue out at Clark before pretending to make out with a pillow from the porch swing. Clark’s cheeks suddenly flushed red again before he began rubbing his cheeks profusely.

“It’s not like that!” He snapped back, suddenly swinging a fist against the nearby railing. The wood immediately splintered, sending Jonathan, who had been leaning against it, to the ground as Martha gasped.

“I-” Clark stammered, “I didn’t mean to.” He turned to run, tripping over his own feet before scrambling upright, and then suddenly disappearing.

“Clark!” Jonathan yelled, quickly echoed by Martha and then Ryan. The two elder Kents shared a look of disbelief before Jonathan looked back at the railing. His eyes drifted from the splintered wood towards the evening sky as stars began to appear amongst the dwindling sunlight.

Creaks of wood brought his attention back down to Earth as Ryan peeled between his parents and towards the direction that Clark had disappeared.

“You go with Ryan, I’ll grab some jackets and a flashlight.”

KNOWHERE

_{Edge of Galactic Rim - Andromeda Galaxy}
^{Two Years Ago}

The skull was an awful sight to behold.

A thin atmosphere surrounded the horrendous visage, its gaping maw unhinged on one side of its face while ships flew to and fro between ancient, yellowed teeth. Vaguely humanoid in appearance, the eye sockets held entire city districts. Factories poured pollution into the artificial atmosphere, discolouring the exposed bones while hovels and apartments lined the arch with less-than-modest abodes.

Clark had no idea what the skull had belonged to, but clearly it was all that was left of something ancient and massive. Despite being part of something long dead, the city within was still very alive. He could hear the noise and clamour of civilization, and a quick scan with his eyes confirmed he wasn’t just hearing things.

This wasn’t just a skull floating in space; it was a thriving society.

“A wretched hive of scum and villainy.” Clark smiled to himself, quoting an old Earth movie. Propelling himself forward, Clark followed a ship into port, passing through the containment field with naught but a tickle of static tracing the entirety of his body.

Landing on a nearby platform, a chorus of gasps echoed around him. Bystanders were taken aback by the strange man who had passed through the void of space unharmed. Surveying the onlooking crowd, Clark found himself letting out a gasp as beings of all shapes, sizes, and appearances looked towards him with eyes, antennas, and other means of seeing.

“I’m really not in Kansas anymore.” He muttered, completely in awe of all the different lifeforms. Chloe would have gone ballistic, not only knowing there was so much life beyond Earth but also to see them in the flesh, or in some cases, the carapace or metal. Mumours rippled through the crowd as they made guesses as to how Clark had managed without a ship.

<“Hold it right there, Meatbag!”> A gruff order was barked in Clark’s direction, followed by the distinct sound of a weapon being cocked. His eyes moved towards a being draped in a blue jumpsuit with what Clark could only describe as a golden hoplite helmet adorned with a red star.

<”I don’t know what you are, or how you got in here, but no one goes in or out without going through the scanner.”>

“I don’t understand,” Clark replied as the alien continued to speak.

“Let me say it in basic, then, , walk your through the scanner or meet the business end of my .”

Clark didn’t quite understand every word, but the tone and connotation were universal as he walked towards the gestured device. Passing through the field, an alarm suddenly triggered, its klaxon near deafening as the guards scrambled to silence the machine. Bystanders clamoured for another look at Clark, who sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, looking back and forth between the two aliens working the station.

“Frakkin’ scanner is on the fritz,” yelled the first corpsman, “Says it’s a code ‘KR36’; contact upper command immediately.”

“It’s only supposed to do that if it detects a threat, ain’t no way in the black that a triggered that.”

“Gorram thing is drell near ancient as Knowhere.” The first replied, “Probably overdue for maintenance. Just flag him through,” The corpsman ordered, “”

<”Are you slaggin’ serious, he just flew through space, we should blast him.”>

<”Do you want to write that report? I sure as slag don’t.”> The guard argued back, <”And I ain’t risking the off chance that he’d survive anyways and then we end up dead.”>

<”What about upper command?”>

<”Cancel the request, delete the logs. We don’t need Nova Prime poking around Knowhere.”> The higher-ranked officer ordered, peering over the other’s shoulder. “Kryptonian detected? ”

“I’m sorry to eavesdrop, but, golly, I heard you say something, and I’m just wondering, what’s a Cryptonian?” Clark asked,

“” The officer chuckled, before replying to Clark, “Something you’re definitely not, ,”

The pair of guards shared a quick laugh before the other explained.

“Kryptonians were the big boogeymen of the galaxy, an ancient race of conquerors with glowing red eyes and said to be strong enough to push entire planets out of orbit. It’s all nonsense, of course; nobody’s ever seen a Kryptonian, let alone found a planet named Krypton.” The guard waved for Clark to enter as the young man paused.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep wasting your time but I was hoping you could tell me where I am right now?” he asked, watching the two guards share an exasperated look.

“You really don’t know much, you’re in Knowhere.”

“Gee, I have to be somewhere,” A confused Clark replied

“Trust me, you’re in Knowhere,” The guard reiterated a bit more forcefully.

“Should I not be here?” Clark asked hesitantly.

“Twitchy poozer like you, either looking for a moll or a hit.” The other guard piped up, “I don’t know your business, but whatever you’re looking for, it’s in Knowhere.”

“Look at ‘em, he can’t handle a real moll.” The first guard chuckled darkly, “You look like the kind of guy who’d enjoy a love bot, you can set them real gentle like for your first time. Even cuddle ya a bit, it’ll make you forget your first time was with a clanker. I’ll even do you a favour, just tell the Sneepers that Jarook sent you, bet they bypass the room fee for you.”

“A love bot?” Clark raised an eyebrow before lifting his hands apologetically, “Uh, gosh no, _{I’m kind of have a girlfriend, I think?} err, I’m looking for other aliens, ones like me.”

“, or rather, what is you lot say, Terrans?” Jarook asked, “Y’know there’s a toll for Terrans, thousand units, humie. But because we like you, we could cut it down to-”

“Eh, do three hundred.” The other guard smiled.

“Stop extortin’ the whelp, he’s barely dry behind the ears.” A third voice interjected, causing Clark to turn around. Initially, he came face-to-face with empty space before looking down. Barely as tall as his waist was an alien that bore more than a striking similarity to the common North American raccoon.

“What’s it to you, 89P13? We all know you don’t do charity, and there’s no bounty on this one.”

“My name is Rocket,” the creature replied, his paw hovering above a holster. “And the galaxy is full of enough scrutholes without the pair of you makin’ a new one. Kid’s clearly lost, otherwise he wouldn’t be in Knowhere.”

“Than-”

“Shut it, Terran, I’m not looking to be your friend, just find your way home soon.” Rocket snapped while Clark followed him.

“I think there’s a mistake. I’m not a human, or a Terran. I’m trying to find out what I am.”

“I don’t recall sayin’ I cared,” Rocket retorted, “Look, I hope you find what you need, but I’m lookin’ for someone and I don’t need a Terran pet nippin’ at my heels.”

“I could help you?” Clark offered, prompting Rocket to spin around.

“How could you possibly help me?” The alien growled, “I’ve had enough of this. Sleep this off and stop bothering me.” He snapped, drawing a weapon. The stun blast discharged, hitting Clark, who barely felt anything as Rocket stared him down, dumbfounded.

A blast from that gun would’ve dropped a full-grown Bolovaxian into next week. Looking from his weapon back to Clark, Rocket raised an eyebrow before a toothy grin began to spread from ear to ear.

“What were sayin’ ‘bout helpin’?”

EARTH

_{Sol System - Milky Way Galaxy}
^Now

“Mr. Luthor! Mr. Luthor!”

The crowd of reporters clambered around the young man as he climbed out of his Porsche. Tossing the keys to the nearby valet, Alexander ‘Lex’ Luthor, brushed back a loose strand of his long, crimson locks before raising a pair of black, leather-gloved hands apologetically to the gathered representatives from the Daily Planet, the Inquisitor, the Gazette and even one from the Bugle.

“Please, my father is Mr. Luthor, you can call me Lex.”

“Lex, what do you think of your father’s mayoral bid? Are you ready to take the reins at Luthorcorp while Lionel takes the reins of the city?” The reporter with the Metropolis Inquisitor asked.

“I think Metropolis could do a lot worse than having Lionel Luthor as a mayor.”

“That’s not exactly a glowing recommendation, Lex. Could your apathy have anything to do with the criminal charges being drafted against your father in relation to conspiracy with Morgan Edge?” Lex’s eyes darted down to the Daily Planet badge hanging by a lanyard around the speaker’s neck.

“If the Metro Police Department had any evidence against my father, he’d already be in handcuffs. As my father isn’t and instead is rallying support for the upcoming Mayoral Election, I’d suggest you go back to your sources at Metro PD and direct them to the gossip column. Luthorcorp has never had dealings with Mr. Edge, let alone colluded with him.“

“How come Luthorcorp hasn’t released an official press statement denying these claims?” The redhead from the Gazette inquired.

“Why concern yourself with idle gossip when you have more at stake in changing the course of humanity’s future?” Lex retorted.

“My father and I aren’t in the habit of indulging the libel of the local rag; instead, we’re trying to create a sustainable future for tomorrow. Luthorcorp is rapidly becoming a leader in sustainable technologies, and our new automotive line is set to be unveiled at this year’s Stark Expo. We’re making the planet healthier, safer and most importantly, cleaner for tomorrow. If the Metropolis Police Department is so interested in Luthorcorp, perhaps they should look over the ‘Sentinel-One’ proposal I put on Commissioner Henderson’s desk.”

“And what is proposed by ‘Sentinel-One’?”

“The future of law enforcement, a way to put the power back in the hands of the common man and a way to migrate uncontrollable risks caused by unprecedented appearances of extranormal individuals.” Lex explained, “In a world where extranormal abilities are doled out more arbitrarily than the lottery winnings, we can’t count on the human factor. We can’t guarantee a ‘good man’ will gain abilities that prove a boon to his fellow man. So we need countermeasures, we need control.”

“And you think you’re the one who should be in control?” A brunette woman asked, Lex studied her badge, recognizing it as a temporary pass from the Daily Planet meaning the woman was still something of a cub reporter.

“No, of course not Miss?”

“Lane, Lois Lane, stringer for the Daily Planet, just a small step up from the Smallville Torch you usually give quotes to.” The young reporter prompted a chuckle from the gathered crowd. Her face, demeanour, and not to mention surname all quickly clued Lex into to who he was speaking.

“Then, for the record, Miss Lane, no, I don’t think I should be in control. Nor do I think my father should be. There should be a council, elected of course, specifically to oversee these matters and deal with them in a way that is lawful. We shouldn’t be trusting our streets to a man in a hoodie with a lightning bolt on it, or one dressed as a bat. I’m sure your father would agree.” Lex smiled knowingly.

“You’ve been gracious today, and I appreciate answering your questions, but unfortunately, I do have meetings and other business to attend to.” Lex waved again before pausing and turning back to the crowd.

“But most importantly, vote Luthor.”

Absolute Comics: Odyssey [Invite Only]

Who's shooting webs?

Absolute Comics: Odyssey [Invite Only]

Time to grease the cogs.

Absolute Comics - A Multi-Fandom Singular Universe Roleplay

<Snipped quote by POOHEAD189>

That's fair. It's just a shame whomever complained couldn't see it as the playful joke it was.

@Lord Wraith don't tell me anymore ways to break things

@Sep

I said it once, I've said it twice, I'll say it thrice.

If you were handed a loaded gun, you'd shoot yourself first.

Wraith's Little Workshop of Horrors

KRYPTON

_{Rao System - Andromeda Galaxy}
^{A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far, Far Away}

“What he's doing is inhumane! No Kryptonian has suffered through a natural birth in over a millennium!”

Murmurs rippled through the gathered science council as Jax-Ur made his claims—pearloid pillars of translucent ivory glistening in the refracting lights. The tall columns stood in stark contrast to the polished ebony stone beneath their feet. A lone figure, dubbed in the blue robes of the Science Guild, paced back and forth before the elevated bench housing the Kryptonian Council.

In the center of the room, atop a glowing projection of his house sigil draped in the subtle hues of prosecution blue, paced Jax-Ur as he made his case. Standing adjacent was the accused, silently situated over his own sigil, illuminated from above in the customary, condemning red as the defendant.

Mere hours earlier, the accused, Jor-El of the House of El and his pregnant wife, Lara Lor-Van, had been dragged from their afforded living space in the dead of night. Placed in restraints by the Kryptonian Military Police Force and marched into the Council chambers for trial.

“We evolved beyond such crude means of reproduction. Every Kryptonian added to our society comes designed for a purpose, perfectly made to fulfill a role and contribute as needed. To throw such unbridled chaos in the face of progress-” He collected his words, containing his rage before Jax-Ur spun towards his accused with a bony outstretched finger.

“Jor-El spits in the face of every member of the Religious Guild; this defies Rao’s natural order.” Ur continued, “If Rao wanted us to have these abilities, Rao would have continued to bless us with a yellow star. But instead, Rao’s red rays have strengthened Krypton and given purpose to each of us. We have grown beyond our dependency on the yellow star. Grown beyond the infliction of such suffering upon our partners and the unnecessary nuisance of nurturing a child. We are an evolved species!”

A chorus of agreement came from the gathered heads of the Guilds and family houses.

“Who is Jor-El to question the nature of Rao’s plans? Who is Jor-El to claim he has more wisdom than the Religious Guild and more intelligence than all of the Science Guild?” Spittle flew from the enraged man’s mouth.

“Who is Jor-El to create a being who he claims will hold more power than the entire might of the Military Guild? Is he a conqueror? Does the House of El seek to usurp power for itself and plunge all of Krypton back into the dark ages?”

“Here, here!” Voices echoed from within the din.

“The Council has to caution the speaker from House Ur that these accusations are great and border on slander-”

“The House of Ur actually cares about Krypton, unlike the idle hands of the Council-” Jax-Ur spun around from his audience, eyes aflame with anger, glaring up at the lofty faces atop their flowing white robes. The projected heads of each Council Member hovered above them, allowing each of the five elected members to appear larger than life.

“That is enough!” Ro-Zan bellowed, standing from her towering seat, her projection flickering briefly as it tracked its host.

“Disparaging your legal opponent was one matter, but you will not slander this Council. This Council is elected to represent all of Krypton, consisting of a member from the Science, Religious, Military and Artist Guilds. I am the fifth elected member of this council and its chair, elected from the Military Guild to speak on behalf of all of Krypton, including the Labour Guild. I will not have the sanctity of this council dragged through the mud.” Her tone softened as she turned to address the wider audience.

“The Council has gathered today to discuss whether the actions of Jor-El and his partner Lara Lor-Van are in open rebellion with the societal contract borne by all citizens of Krypton. The character of the Council is not on trial.”

Returning to her seat, Ro-Zen turned her attention from the prosecution and addressed the accused.

“Jor-El, head of the House of El, son of Seyg-El, brother to Nim-El and Zor-El, might I take this moment to remind you that natural births were banned nearly a thousand years ago. Our forefathers found a better way to populate the planet, casting genetic material and incubating it into young adults to fill the roles abandoned by those who have passed. The last Kryptonian children grew up over nine hundred years ago. We evolved beyond such a crippling delay in development. A process that once took nearly eighteen full cycles around Rao can now be completed in just five seasons. Your actions go against the natural progression of our society.” Zen stated, reiterating the charges brought before Jor-El and Lara.

“It is worrying that the head of the House of El would engage in such base behaviours. If we are to begin exchanging in sexual intercourse, let alone mating, what is to distinguish us from the animals? How many of our people do you seek to breed in this violent manner?” The representative from the Science Guild added before turning a the sound of the Artist Guild’s own seat, adding their thoughts.

“I was under the impression all caste-born were created sterile.”

The statement rang out a sudden realization among the gathered crowds, and whispers practically rose to a din that threatened to derail the trail.

“Order! Order!”

“This child will never be accepted among our people; he will always be an outsider. Worse, he is a threat to our very way of life. Yet Jor-El speaks of the child as though he is a messiah, while parading his engorged wife around as a madonna.” Jax-Ur interrupted the quieting crowds, seething more venom towards his opponent.

“The speaker from the House of Ur mentioned returning Krypton to the dark ages, but I would like to assert that we are already there. The dark ages began when the last remaining naturally born Kryptonians died off, those who had made this fate for the entire planet. They chose to take away our choice, chose to instead of shaping and moulding the lives of a child, have them cast to fit a role and follow a path without any need for individual thought.” Jor-El argued, finally making his voice heard.

“My son should not be the only one of his kind. Individuals deserve the right to choose their own fate; they deserve the right to be children, to be full of wonder and awe for the world. To see things through their own eyes for the first time, not through in utero programming.” He turned from the bench to address his peers draped in the shadows surrounding the crystalline court.

“The Caste system is a mistake, and it has stripped our people of their free will and lust for life. Look at how the Artist Guild has suffered, a shell of what it once was. Krypton has become absolutely spartan, architecture made for efficiency, not to inspire. How can a drone create art? We have become a cold and distant people.” Jor-El began to stand taller. “No longer do you go to bed with your partners. I have seen murals of ancient people strolling the streets, hand in hand. Ancient depictions of couples in the throes of passion. Where is that zeal for life?”

Cries of disagreement rose from the crowd. Sounds of disgust and revolt at Jor-El’s suggestions echoed through the chambers of the Council’s court.

“Is this what Lorra would have wanted? Art without freewill is godless. Rao turned the sun red to quell our savagery, not to strip our free will. Have we too abandoned Telle by devolving to idiocracy over a millennium?”

“Blasphemer!” The venom in his tone practically dripped onto the floor as Jax-Ur physically stopped himself from lunging towards Jor-El.

“Order! The House of Ur does not have the floor.”

“We were peacekeepers to the galaxy for thousands of years; we used to value life in all of its stages. But in an effort to fight overpopulation and climate change, we made our people into a product. A member of the Labour Guild dies, and a new one is ready from the birthing pods in hours to replace them.” The accused pleaded.

“We used to be invited as arbiters to disputes, but now we are marked as warmongers. Spreading fear far further than our reach of influence. Even the Shi’ar Empire on the fringes of known space knows the might of Primus Quex-Ul and the Kryptonian Star Armada.” The representative from the Military Guild’s face flushed red at the accused speaker’s implications.

“And we’re printing new soldiers every day. Krypton is fighting a war on one side with the
Dheronians, while dealing with the Daxam Rebellion. That’s not even including our continued skirmishes with the Kree and the Chitauri.” Jor-El continued.

“We lost our identity, we became so obsessed with progress and might that it made us cold as a people. Too arrogant to see our own self-harm and too sure of ourselves not to impose it on those beyond our borders. A family used to be enough for a man at the end of the day; now the average Kryptonian seeks ways to avoid rest out of fear of being inefficient.”

“The representative from the Military Guild has heard enough of the ravings of this man.”

“The Science Guild also concurs.”

“And what of the Artist and Religious Guilds?” Ro-Zan asked, turning to the last two remaining council members.

“The Artist Guild would like to abstain in this matter.”

“As would the Religious Guild, we do not find Jor-El to be completely unfounded, although perhaps a bit radical. This kind of zealot behaviour cannot be further encouraged.”

“The Council then asks the prosecution what they are seeking as an outcome of this matter.”

Jax-Ur smiled as he stepped forward.

“The unborn child must be killed, Jor-El should be stripped and reprogrammed to the Labour Guild, and both should be assigned new partners.”

Nods of agreement came from both the representatives of the Military and Science Guild.

“The Council rests. Take Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van into custody for processing.” Ro-Zan ordered as members of the Military Guild stepped forward. Suddenly, a loud splash echoed across the cold, stone floor as Lara stood there in stunned silence, a puddle between her feet, before gasping in pain as her knees began to buckle.

“Jor-”

EARTH

_{Sol System - Milky Way Galaxy}
^{Two Years Ago}

“So, you’re really gonna do it?”

Clark smiled, looking down from the night sky towards the blonde-haired girl looking up at him with watery green eyes. A warm westerly wind momentarily broke the chill of the Kansas autumn air. Lifting an arm, Clark pulled the girl tighter to his chest, giving her an affectionate squeeze before replying.

“I have to do it.” He replied softly, his eyes scanning beyond the sky into the stars.[color=#6d9eeb] [/color]“I came from somewhere, Chloe. I need to find out where that was.”[color=#6d9eeb] [/color]Clark took a deep breath, letting out a long sigh. Chloe had come to affectionately refer to it as the sigh bearing the weight of the world.

“Mom and Dad, they found me in a cornfield on their way to the hospital, the same day Ryan came into their lives, so did I. But I came wrapped in a red blanket and surrounded by debris of an alien pod and falling meteors. I know I’m not meteor rock infected; they came with me, they’re part of where I’m from.”

“Clark, I know that’s your way of trying to take ownership of everything the meteor freaks have done. You know you can’t do that, even if Smallville doesn’t know it, you’re a hero. You’re a hero to me.” Chloe smiled softly, intermingling her hand with Clark’s, “I know who you are.”

“But I don't know who I am,” Clark pressed, “What I am.” He added, looking towards the sky, [color=#6d9eeb] [/color]

“There could be people out there still looking for me, missing me.”

“There will be people here missing you, too.”

“I just can't commit to anything until I know. I’ve tried to build a life here, but I’m left with so many questions, Clo, who am I? What am I? Where am I from? Or why did my birth parents send me to Earth? I’m going to continue to have all these questions hanging over me unless I go.”

“Life is going to get a whole lot more boring around here without you.” She sniffled, “I can only take so much more of Ryan and Lana wedding planning before, y’know.” Chloe made a mocking gag movement, a soft smile appearing on her lips.

“How are you with all of that anyway?” Her tone was pensive as Clark carefully chose his words.

“I don’t think I’m going to mind being away from it, but I’m glad Lana’s happy. Ryan’s not only my brother, he’s also my best friend, even if we’re from different planets. He can be a whole lot more honest with her than I can.”

“What is your family going to tell people where you are?” Chloe asked, raising her green eyes to meet Clark’s deep blue irises. She had always loved his eyes, feeling as though they contained the whole night sky in them, twinkling like the brightest stars.

“Backpacking through Europe. Ryan has a whole itinerary planned in his mind based on what we used to say we wanted to do. He’s got me following the Pogues on tour.” Clark replied, the tension held by their met gaze left the air nearly static.

“That’s a little punk rock for you, isn’t it? Your flannel isn’t exactly ripped enough for that scene.” Chloe teased as Clark offered a sympathetic smile.

“Y’know, Lex is going to miss you, too.”

“Is that your last card to play?” Clark teased, “Lex is a good friend, he’s been given the same story, though. Backpacking through Europe, even offered to pay for it. Put me up in a couple of his favourite hotels. I had to politely decline and insist I was more interested in the ‘authentic hostel’ experience.”

“I imagine that notion slid right over that crimson waterfall of hair.”

Clark laughed.

“He did struggle with it.” His gaze went skyward again. He had spent enough time procrastinating. Chloe followed his gaze, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes before she stood on the tip of her toes to plant a soft kiss on Clark’s cheek.

“Goodbye, Clark. Come back to us.”

He nodded, wrapping her up in a careful hug before setting her down.

“You’ll want to keep your distance for this next part.”

Crouching, Clark summoned all the strength he had, feeling the rays of the sun flowing through him. The ground beneath him cracked and splintered, pieces of rock and soil floating into the air, drawn upwards by his bio-matrix field, before he suddenly rocketed into the air, leaving Smallville far, far behind.

The blonde girl in the field behind him became much smaller, becoming nearly a tiny speck as the clouds engulfed Clark. He soared higher and higher, passing through the troposphere, the stratosphere, the mesosphere, the thermosphere, and emerging into the exosphere. If his bio field didn’t extend beyond his body, Clark would have quickly found himself without any clothing passing through the atmosphere at the speeds required to break free of Earth’s pull.

“Alright, Clark,” He said to himself, watching Chloe wave at him one last time, far below the clouds. His tear-filled eyes moved away from the planet below, water droplets floating gently away from his face as the alien, masquerading as a human, looked out into the endless black.

Keen eyes scanned the infinite depths and numerous stars beyond Sol’s eight planets until an unnatural shimmer caught his eye. Exhaling, he propelled himself through the void. Clark cautiously approached the shimmer, at first mistaking it for a tear in space before realizing it was some kind of gateway. Hexagonal patterns rippled from the unnatural hole, flashing periodically in a way that reminded the farmboy of a traffic light.

There was something entirely unnatural about it, yet ethereal and ancient. It wasn’t part of space; Clark was almost certain it had been put here by something or someone. Watching it illuminate again, the strobe of light gave Clark a sudden case of homesickness, longing to watch the heat lightning ripple over the fields of the farm.

A series of rapid flashes emitted from the gateway before a few pieces of debris spilled into the void alongside Clark. His eyes lit up as the gate confirmed it worked as a tunnel of sorts. The only thing yet to be determined was how to activate it.

“And where do you-” He stretched out a hand before suddenly it came to life, pulling him through.

And in an instant, Clark Kent found himself light-years from home. Floating through space in front of him was a massive skull. Out of its eye socket came ships of all shapes and sizes, flying about their day to and from the city contained within.

“I don't think I’m in Kansas anymore.”

Vanguard: Calder City

<Snipped quote by Roman>

I'm just catching all kinda heat today

@Colonel Sep

Careful with what you do next. We wouldn't want you removed from the game.