<Snipped quote by DocTachyon>
Wonder how many colour tags a single post could handle...
Wonder how many colour tags a single post could handle...
Lord Wraith
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Thunderbringer
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Bio
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.
Most Recent Posts
Wonder how many colour tags a single post could handle...
Better not let Sep read it. He might find some new formatting in there and break the site again.
In all fairness, it was the originator of the dreaded table bomb.
Phew, finally finished my CS.
GMs, you can go ahead and accept me now.
GMs, you can go ahead and accept me now.
“This fortress contains all the known knowledge of the universe. In particular, the history of Krypton and your ancestors. The technology provided by this crystal creates a place of solitude where you may seek reprieve from this world. A replication of your homeworld, you’ll find the environment and atmosphere within the fortress to be much harsher than that of your adoptive planet.” The voice boomed.
“The very air is heavier here; Krypton’s atmosphere is nearly ten times denser than that of Earth’s. Its gravitational pull is exponentially stronger, challenging even your already immense strength. You will be able to use the resources here not only to enhance your knowledge of the universe, but also to train your abilities beyond civilian saves. Only then will you be prepared to face the destiny that lies ahead.”
“Who are you?” Clark replied, yelling into the vaulted crystalline ceilings.
“An ally,” The disembodied voice replied. A subtle shift in the crystals revealed a transparent column containing what appeared to be a mannequin inside.
“A gift from your Uncle. This fortress showcases his engineering expertise and the ability to tailor it to your specific needs. Kelex-” The voice commanded as a robotic figure appeared.
“Please help fit the son of Jor-El with his armour.”
“You must have a name,” Clark bellowed, looking around the fortress as the robot approached, handing Clark the suit. The fabric felt almost alive as it wrapped itself around Clark’s arm and slowly spread across his body. It changed from blue to black as Clark suddenly felt the light of the yellow sun concentrated upon his body, restoring his depleted cells.
“Your travels have left you weakened. Zor-El’s suit will accelerate your recovery. Kelex was a loyal servant of your father’s; he will be able to function as an extension of your suit and will grant the sunstone that makes up the armour autonomy to help you in your battles.” The voice explained. “As for my name,”
The voice paused as the silver crest of the House of El appeared on Clark’s chest.
“You may call me Zod.”
“The very air is heavier here; Krypton’s atmosphere is nearly ten times denser than that of Earth’s. Its gravitational pull is exponentially stronger, challenging even your already immense strength. You will be able to use the resources here not only to enhance your knowledge of the universe, but also to train your abilities beyond civilian saves. Only then will you be prepared to face the destiny that lies ahead.”
“Who are you?” Clark replied, yelling into the vaulted crystalline ceilings.
“An ally,” The disembodied voice replied. A subtle shift in the crystals revealed a transparent column containing what appeared to be a mannequin inside.
“A gift from your Uncle. This fortress showcases his engineering expertise and the ability to tailor it to your specific needs. Kelex-” The voice commanded as a robotic figure appeared.
“Please help fit the son of Jor-El with his armour.”
“You must have a name,” Clark bellowed, looking around the fortress as the robot approached, handing Clark the suit. The fabric felt almost alive as it wrapped itself around Clark’s arm and slowly spread across his body. It changed from blue to black as Clark suddenly felt the light of the yellow sun concentrated upon his body, restoring his depleted cells.
“Your travels have left you weakened. Zor-El’s suit will accelerate your recovery. Kelex was a loyal servant of your father’s; he will be able to function as an extension of your suit and will grant the sunstone that makes up the armour autonomy to help you in your battles.” The voice explained. “As for my name,”
The voice paused as the silver crest of the House of El appeared on Clark’s chest.
“You may call me Zod.”
“What happened to my sister, Lex?”
“Cara!” The surprise was evident in Lex’s voice, “I didn’t know you were in town.” He continued, embracing his sister-in-law as she approached. She reluctantly returned the gesture, her body tense and impatient while Lex found the words to answer Cara properly.
“She’s severely dehydrated, severe to moderate burns across her entire body.” Lex’s voice wavered, a raised hand against the glass of the observation window. “Initial analysis says it’s a metahuman attack, but I’m not as convinced. Scans of the area only show residuals of the woman they had in custody. Her partner-” He paused, “I’m led to believe she has a human partner, perhaps augmented. Equally dangerous none the less.”
Lex paused, turning towards Carol.
“How did you get here so quickly?”
“I was on the phone with Lexa when it happened,” Carol answered, moving beside Lex as her brow furrowed. Her eyes intently staring at her sister hooked up to wires and fluids as the doctors worked to help Lexa regain consciousness.
“I convinced an airman to fly me out the moment I was disconnected.”
“Lexa knew the risks when she joined the D.E.O.-”
“How can you be so cold?” Carol interjected, turning towards Lex as she the petite powerhouse jabbed a finger into his chest. The blonde woman looked up into Lex’s seemingly emotionless eyes.
“That’s your wife lying there fighting for her life. My sister and you’re here spouting theories about what happened to her instead of finding a way to help her.”
“I already have the best specialists in Metropolis here, Cara. I assure you, under my watch you will not lose your sister.” Lex replied, a firm hand gently removing Carol’s accusatory finger.
“Nor will I be losing my wife. Lexa’s life is in the best possible hands money could buy. There’s no one more suited to saving her.”
“Good,” Carol replied, “I knew I always liked you,”
“You didn’t,” Lex chided, “But that’s kind of you to say.” He replied with a smile. “You’re welcome to stay at the penthouse tonight, Cara.”
“Thanks, bro,” Carol responded before playfully slugging Lex in the arm. “But I’ve got other business to attend to.”
“Cara-”
“I don’t want to hear it, Lex.” Carol snapped, “If that was your sister-”
“I’d let the proper authorities handle it.”
“Just like Club Zero?”
Lex faltered.
“How do you?”
“I checked up on you before you married Lexa.” Carol replied, “You’ve got your own fair share of skeletons in your closet.”
“Then I suggest you learn from my mistakes and not rush headstrong into repeating them.” Lex replied firmly, grabbing Carol’s arm before she quickly shook him off.
“Leave it alone, Lex. You’re my brother-in-law, but you sure as hell ain’t family.” Cara growled.
Lex held up his hands, watching as Cara stormed out of the hospital. Pulling his cellphone out of his pocket, he dialed quickly before holding it up to his ear.
“Hey, you’re on scene right? Look, Clark, I have a favour to ask.”
“Cara!” The surprise was evident in Lex’s voice, “I didn’t know you were in town.” He continued, embracing his sister-in-law as she approached. She reluctantly returned the gesture, her body tense and impatient while Lex found the words to answer Cara properly.
“She’s severely dehydrated, severe to moderate burns across her entire body.” Lex’s voice wavered, a raised hand against the glass of the observation window. “Initial analysis says it’s a metahuman attack, but I’m not as convinced. Scans of the area only show residuals of the woman they had in custody. Her partner-” He paused, “I’m led to believe she has a human partner, perhaps augmented. Equally dangerous none the less.”
Lex paused, turning towards Carol.
“How did you get here so quickly?”
“I was on the phone with Lexa when it happened,” Carol answered, moving beside Lex as her brow furrowed. Her eyes intently staring at her sister hooked up to wires and fluids as the doctors worked to help Lexa regain consciousness.
“I convinced an airman to fly me out the moment I was disconnected.”
“Lexa knew the risks when she joined the D.E.O.-”
“How can you be so cold?” Carol interjected, turning towards Lex as she the petite powerhouse jabbed a finger into his chest. The blonde woman looked up into Lex’s seemingly emotionless eyes.
“That’s your wife lying there fighting for her life. My sister and you’re here spouting theories about what happened to her instead of finding a way to help her.”
“I already have the best specialists in Metropolis here, Cara. I assure you, under my watch you will not lose your sister.” Lex replied, a firm hand gently removing Carol’s accusatory finger.
“Nor will I be losing my wife. Lexa’s life is in the best possible hands money could buy. There’s no one more suited to saving her.”
“Good,” Carol replied, “I knew I always liked you,”
“You didn’t,” Lex chided, “But that’s kind of you to say.” He replied with a smile. “You’re welcome to stay at the penthouse tonight, Cara.”
“Thanks, bro,” Carol responded before playfully slugging Lex in the arm. “But I’ve got other business to attend to.”
“Cara-”
“I don’t want to hear it, Lex.” Carol snapped, “If that was your sister-”
“I’d let the proper authorities handle it.”
“Just like Club Zero?”
Lex faltered.
“How do you?”
“I checked up on you before you married Lexa.” Carol replied, “You’ve got your own fair share of skeletons in your closet.”
“Then I suggest you learn from my mistakes and not rush headstrong into repeating them.” Lex replied firmly, grabbing Carol’s arm before she quickly shook him off.
“Leave it alone, Lex. You’re my brother-in-law, but you sure as hell ain’t family.” Cara growled.
Lex held up his hands, watching as Cara stormed out of the hospital. Pulling his cellphone out of his pocket, he dialed quickly before holding it up to his ear.
“Hey, you’re on scene right? Look, Clark, I have a favour to ask.”
The sound of the billiard balls breaking echoed through the large den as the seventeen year old entered to see a young man with a clean shaven head playing pool alongside a beautiful woman. The security escort waved him through the glass paned doors as Clark was taken aback by both the size of the Luthor Mansion and its sheer elegance. Hand carved wood adorned much of the wall paneling and trim. A massive mantel drew his attention across the room while book cases upon book cases framed the far wall, broken up by exquisite stained glass windows.
Clark suddenly found himself feeling very out of place and underdressed as he hastily wiped his hands on his jeans, tugging at his flannel shirt to straighten it before he took an uncertain step forward.
“Mr. Luthor, I’m-”
“Please,” The young man looked up, flashing a cocky smile at Clark. “Mr. Luthor is my father,” He interrupted, winking towards the nearby woman.
“You must be Clark Kent,” He continued, “Lex,” Lex offered, extending a hand.
“I hear I have you to thank for saving my father.”
“I just did what anyone would do,” Clark replied with a shrug, “That’s actually why I’m here, about the truck-” He added, stopping as Lex rolled his eyes.
“Let me guess, you wanted one in a different colour? Or maybe a higher trim package.”
“No, no!” Clark protested, holding out the keys to Lex. “Nothing like that at all, I’m afraid I just can’t accept it.”
Lex blinked twice as Clark extended the keys to the free vehicle in front of him.
“Oh, I get it, you’re young. You probably wanted a sportscar. Sorry, Bo, I’ll be sure to let my father know to send a Charger out to the Kent farm.” Lex stated dryly, snatching the keys from Clark’s outstretched hand.
“Lex, I don’t think you understand.”
“No, Clark, I do understand. You’re yet another local hick who got lucky and is using that luck to shake down my father. If I’m being honest, you’re lucky my father isn’t pursuing charges against you.”
“Lex, I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression, but it’s not the truck.” Clark replied, “It’s the idea of a gift. I don’t need a gift for doing the right thing. I didn’t pull your father from the river in hopes of being rewarded. I did it because if I were in his place, I’d want someone to save me.”
“I’m sorry,” Lex did a double take at the younger man, “Are you telling me, you did the right thing with no ulterior motive? You saved one of the most powerful men in the world and you have no interest in being repaid.”
Clark had to fight to control himself from laughing.
“Yes, Lex.” He nodded, “I’m not looking for fame or glory.”
“Clark, I don’t think you have any idea how rare that is.” Lex replied before extending a hand towards Clark. “I apologize for the hostility. Generally when someone shows up after receiving a gift from a Luthor it’s a shakedown.”
“I’m just here to see you get your Dad gets his money back,” Clark said as he shook Lex’s hand.
“My father hardly needs it, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture.” Lex stated, returning to the pool table before taking his shot. The ball sunk into the corner pocket as Lex moved to line up his next shot.
“There is one thing that interests me though,” Lex continued. “How does someone get struck by a car at sixty miles per hour, plunge off a bridge and remain conscious enough to pull two men out of a sinking car?”
Clark shrugged, flashing a disarming smile.
“Just lucky I guess.”
“Lucky?” Lex smiled, nodding towards his female companion. “Victoria, pass Clark your cue, I want to see how Mr. Kent’s luck holds up on the pool table.” He looked from Victoria back towards Clark.
“You have played before haven’t you?”
“I can’t say I have,” Clark replied, accepting the pool cue from Victoria with an appreciative nod.
“Victoria can help you line up your first shot. You hit the eight ball into either solids or stripes, call the pocket you intend to sink it in. You sink your shot, you go again.”
“There’s a bit more to it, but that’s the jist of it, luv.” Victoria smiled before placing her hands on Clark’s shoulders.
“You really ought to wear something more fitted. Quite a bit of muscle under there, Mr. Kent.”
Clark felt his cheeks flush.
“One hand here,” Victoria instructed, moving Clark’s hand down the cue, “And the other here,” She guided.
“Keep it level, pull back and a quick tap.”
“So, Clark,” Lex smiled. “What’s your call?”
Clark eyed the table up, quickly taking stock of where each ball was located. A quick mental count and a calculation easily sized up the best shot.
“Number Nine, corner pocket,” Clark called before striking the eight ball. It missed the stripe ball, hitting a solid that ricocheted several others. True to his call though, the nine ball sunk in the corner pocket.
“Fifteen, side pocket.” Clark stated as fifteen too landed in a pocket.
“Twelve, far pocket.” He continued as a third ball sank. Victoria squealed with excitement as Lex stared at the table.
“Are you hustling me?”
“Honestly,” Clark replied, “I’ve never played.”
Lex let out a chuckle before passing the rack to Victoria.
“Darling, if you wouldn’t mind racking a new game, this just got interesting.” Lex stated.
“Clark, I think this is the beginning of a very interesting friendship.”
Clark suddenly found himself feeling very out of place and underdressed as he hastily wiped his hands on his jeans, tugging at his flannel shirt to straighten it before he took an uncertain step forward.
“Mr. Luthor, I’m-”
“Please,” The young man looked up, flashing a cocky smile at Clark. “Mr. Luthor is my father,” He interrupted, winking towards the nearby woman.
“You must be Clark Kent,” He continued, “Lex,” Lex offered, extending a hand.
“I hear I have you to thank for saving my father.”
“I just did what anyone would do,” Clark replied with a shrug, “That’s actually why I’m here, about the truck-” He added, stopping as Lex rolled his eyes.
“Let me guess, you wanted one in a different colour? Or maybe a higher trim package.”
“No, no!” Clark protested, holding out the keys to Lex. “Nothing like that at all, I’m afraid I just can’t accept it.”
Lex blinked twice as Clark extended the keys to the free vehicle in front of him.
“Oh, I get it, you’re young. You probably wanted a sportscar. Sorry, Bo, I’ll be sure to let my father know to send a Charger out to the Kent farm.” Lex stated dryly, snatching the keys from Clark’s outstretched hand.
“Lex, I don’t think you understand.”
“No, Clark, I do understand. You’re yet another local hick who got lucky and is using that luck to shake down my father. If I’m being honest, you’re lucky my father isn’t pursuing charges against you.”
“Lex, I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression, but it’s not the truck.” Clark replied, “It’s the idea of a gift. I don’t need a gift for doing the right thing. I didn’t pull your father from the river in hopes of being rewarded. I did it because if I were in his place, I’d want someone to save me.”
“I’m sorry,” Lex did a double take at the younger man, “Are you telling me, you did the right thing with no ulterior motive? You saved one of the most powerful men in the world and you have no interest in being repaid.”
Clark had to fight to control himself from laughing.
“Yes, Lex.” He nodded, “I’m not looking for fame or glory.”
“Clark, I don’t think you have any idea how rare that is.” Lex replied before extending a hand towards Clark. “I apologize for the hostility. Generally when someone shows up after receiving a gift from a Luthor it’s a shakedown.”
“I’m just here to see you get your Dad gets his money back,” Clark said as he shook Lex’s hand.
“My father hardly needs it, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture.” Lex stated, returning to the pool table before taking his shot. The ball sunk into the corner pocket as Lex moved to line up his next shot.
“There is one thing that interests me though,” Lex continued. “How does someone get struck by a car at sixty miles per hour, plunge off a bridge and remain conscious enough to pull two men out of a sinking car?”
Clark shrugged, flashing a disarming smile.
“Just lucky I guess.”
“Lucky?” Lex smiled, nodding towards his female companion. “Victoria, pass Clark your cue, I want to see how Mr. Kent’s luck holds up on the pool table.” He looked from Victoria back towards Clark.
“You have played before haven’t you?”
“I can’t say I have,” Clark replied, accepting the pool cue from Victoria with an appreciative nod.
“Victoria can help you line up your first shot. You hit the eight ball into either solids or stripes, call the pocket you intend to sink it in. You sink your shot, you go again.”
“There’s a bit more to it, but that’s the jist of it, luv.” Victoria smiled before placing her hands on Clark’s shoulders.
“You really ought to wear something more fitted. Quite a bit of muscle under there, Mr. Kent.”
Clark felt his cheeks flush.
“One hand here,” Victoria instructed, moving Clark’s hand down the cue, “And the other here,” She guided.
“Keep it level, pull back and a quick tap.”
“So, Clark,” Lex smiled. “What’s your call?”
Clark eyed the table up, quickly taking stock of where each ball was located. A quick mental count and a calculation easily sized up the best shot.
“Number Nine, corner pocket,” Clark called before striking the eight ball. It missed the stripe ball, hitting a solid that ricocheted several others. True to his call though, the nine ball sunk in the corner pocket.
“Fifteen, side pocket.” Clark stated as fifteen too landed in a pocket.
“Twelve, far pocket.” He continued as a third ball sank. Victoria squealed with excitement as Lex stared at the table.
“Are you hustling me?”
“Honestly,” Clark replied, “I’ve never played.”
Lex let out a chuckle before passing the rack to Victoria.
“Darling, if you wouldn’t mind racking a new game, this just got interesting.” Lex stated.
“Clark, I think this is the beginning of a very interesting friendship.”
“And the record-breaking crime wave continues across the Metropolis as a young mutant woman was apprehended after attempting to rob-”
“Breaking News, although initially apprehended, the young mutant appears to now be at large. Sources are now saying she has an accomplic-”
“Lane! Olsen! Why the hell aren’t we the ‘sources’?” Perry White’s voice boomed from the balcony overlooking the bullpen. “And where the hell is Kent? I don’t like getting my news from the news.”
“Kent’s off chasing his own leads,” Lois barked back, “Shame he has the instincts and self preservation of a quokka.” She muttered under his breath before spinning towards Jimmy.
“I guess that leaves you and me, you got a new memory card in that thing?” She asked, gesturing towards his camera with her chin.
“Same one from this morning, should be plenty of room.”
“Get your head out of your ass, Jimmy.” Lois snapped, “You’re not some cub reporter, you know how many pictures we’re going to need of a car literally melted into the road.” She added.
“Little firebugs may as well have stood for a photo op. Bet we could even find a trail.”
“Damn, Lane, you certainly filled out,” A male voice called from the top of the stairs as Lois froze, before looking out of the bullpen towards the familiar face.
“Corben.” She smiled weakly. He looked different with his hair grown out, but the smirk was the same, accented by the scar from where she had split his lip.
“Sergeant John Corben, you got old.” Lois continued, calling towards the older man.
“Honourably discharged John Corben,” he replied, turning to the side and awkwardly stepping down the stairs. Lois was only just now noticing the limp in his walk and the cane he was leaning on.
“Figured, I’d drop in on the most beautiful Pulitzer Winner and pay her a visit.”
“Helen Branswell is here?” Lois asked, her tone dismissive while she mockingly looked around only for Perry to poke his head out of his office again.
“Great Caesar’s Ghost, Lane, you’re still here?” White roared, “Get a move on!”
“Sorry, John, this will have to wait.” Lois said apologetically, tapping the man on the shoulder.
“Our usual booth at the Ace O'Clubs, say eight tonight?”
“I’ll be there,”
“See you then, John-Boy,” Lois winked, giving the former soldier a quick peck on the cheek before rushing out of the bullpen.
“Move it, Olsen!”
“Breaking News, although initially apprehended, the young mutant appears to now be at large. Sources are now saying she has an accomplic-”
“Lane! Olsen! Why the hell aren’t we the ‘sources’?” Perry White’s voice boomed from the balcony overlooking the bullpen. “And where the hell is Kent? I don’t like getting my news from the news.”
“Kent’s off chasing his own leads,” Lois barked back, “Shame he has the instincts and self preservation of a quokka.” She muttered under his breath before spinning towards Jimmy.
“I guess that leaves you and me, you got a new memory card in that thing?” She asked, gesturing towards his camera with her chin.
“Same one from this morning, should be plenty of room.”
“Get your head out of your ass, Jimmy.” Lois snapped, “You’re not some cub reporter, you know how many pictures we’re going to need of a car literally melted into the road.” She added.
“Little firebugs may as well have stood for a photo op. Bet we could even find a trail.”
“Damn, Lane, you certainly filled out,” A male voice called from the top of the stairs as Lois froze, before looking out of the bullpen towards the familiar face.
“Corben.” She smiled weakly. He looked different with his hair grown out, but the smirk was the same, accented by the scar from where she had split his lip.
“Sergeant John Corben, you got old.” Lois continued, calling towards the older man.
“Honourably discharged John Corben,” he replied, turning to the side and awkwardly stepping down the stairs. Lois was only just now noticing the limp in his walk and the cane he was leaning on.
“Figured, I’d drop in on the most beautiful Pulitzer Winner and pay her a visit.”
“Helen Branswell is here?” Lois asked, her tone dismissive while she mockingly looked around only for Perry to poke his head out of his office again.
“Great Caesar’s Ghost, Lane, you’re still here?” White roared, “Get a move on!”
“Sorry, John, this will have to wait.” Lois said apologetically, tapping the man on the shoulder.
“Our usual booth at the Ace O'Clubs, say eight tonight?”
“I’ll be there,”
“See you then, John-Boy,” Lois winked, giving the former soldier a quick peck on the cheek before rushing out of the bullpen.
“Move it, Olsen!”
Clark walked along the side of Main Street, the only road, leaving Smallville towards Miller’s Field, hands shoved into his pockets, an old MP3 player clutched in his right hand, while headphones that had definitely seen better days sat under his hood on top of his thick head of hair.
The steady thump of the backbeat kept Clark nodding along with the music. A smile crossed his face as his empty hand withdrew from the pocket of his denim jacket, running a thumb over his lips where Lana Lang had kissed him not even half an hour earlier.
Finding himself suddenly swept up in the music, Clark began to dance as he continued along the roughly paved road. Jumping into the air, he felt lighter tonight, clicking his heels together before gently landing on solid ground again. If he didn’t know any better, Clark would have sworn he could fly.
Stopping along the Loeb Bridge, Clark leaned against the railing, watching the Elbow River lazily flow beneath, reflecting the light of the stars above. Stars that shone almost as brightly as Lana’s eyes. He could still see her coy smile just before she kissed him. The taste of her cherry lip gloss and the smell of her cupcake-scented perfume sent his head spinning again.
The next track on his MP3 player rang out, echoing Clark’s own thoughts as a dumb smile was plastered across his face. Turning the volume up, he stretched his arms out, spinning around while dancing, only to suddenly find himself staring into a pair of headlights.
Frozen in that moment, Clark couldn’t think as the car was suddenly on top of him. The screeching of tires and twisting of metal drowned out the music. Headphones were ripped from his ears as the full weight of the American-made sedan collided with his chest. Metal and concrete broke against Clark’s back, the ground going out from under him, before suddenly the night air was replaced by the freezing waters of the Elbow River.
Pulled along by the current, Clark narrowly missed having the black Towncar land on top of him while he frantically checked himself for any sign of injury. Surfacing, he gasped for air but, beyond shock, couldn’t find any injury on himself.
“What the h-” Clark muttered to himself before his eyes darted back to the ruined bridge and the glowing taillights beneath the surface.
The driver!
Stripping off the heavy denim jacket, Clark dove back beneath the surface. His mind was racing as he tried to figure out why he was still alive. His parents had always been protective, but Clark had been sickly when he was younger. In his adolescence, that had gone away, and he was the picture of health.
Taking hold of the windshield, Clark pried it from the car with ease. Pulling the unconscious man from the front seat before noticing another passenger in the car. Pushing himself, he delivered the driver to shore before plunging back in.
His lungs should have been burning by now. But Clark barely felt winded. He chalked it up to adrenaline before the roof of the car in his hands suddenly peeled back like the top of a can of beans. Clark barely had time to register what he had done before he pulled the man from the wreckage.
Dressed in a suit finer than anything Clark had seen in Smallville. The man had a magnificent mane of hair that spilled over his shoulders. Pulling him ashore, Clark felt the hands of another begin to help as the first man had regained consciousness.
“Sir!” He yelled, “Mr. Luthor, Sir!” He yelled again before pushing Clark aside and beginning to try to resuscitate the man who must have been his boss. Flashes of red and blue refracted from the bridge above as the Sheriff’s department made its way on the scene.
A cough brought Clark’s attention back to the man he had pulled from the water. The older man spat out a mouthful of water before the driver helped him to sit up.
“Is-” Clark started, his eyes wide as the situation all began to sink in. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Young man,” The driver replied, “He is, thanks to you.” He said with a relieved smile.
“Not every day a teenager saves one of the most powerful men in the world.”
A tug on the driver’s sleeve directed his attention back to his employer as the man croaked a request.
“I’d like to shake the hand of the one who saved me.”
Clark stood, his legs feeling unsteady beneath him.
“Clark, Sir, Clark Kent.” Clark offered a hand as he spoke.
“Young man, I owe you a great debt of gratitude.” The man replied, taking Clark’s outstretched hand. He gave it a firm squeeze before placing his other hand over top of Clark’s.
“My name is Lionel, Lionel Luthor.”
♫ Sometimes we never get started
No one will give you a wake-up call
Sometimes the hours are wasted
No one will give you a wake-up call ♫
No one will give you a wake-up call
Sometimes the hours are wasted
No one will give you a wake-up call ♫
The steady thump of the backbeat kept Clark nodding along with the music. A smile crossed his face as his empty hand withdrew from the pocket of his denim jacket, running a thumb over his lips where Lana Lang had kissed him not even half an hour earlier.
Finding himself suddenly swept up in the music, Clark began to dance as he continued along the roughly paved road. Jumping into the air, he felt lighter tonight, clicking his heels together before gently landing on solid ground again. If he didn’t know any better, Clark would have sworn he could fly.
Stopping along the Loeb Bridge, Clark leaned against the railing, watching the Elbow River lazily flow beneath, reflecting the light of the stars above. Stars that shone almost as brightly as Lana’s eyes. He could still see her coy smile just before she kissed him. The taste of her cherry lip gloss and the smell of her cupcake-scented perfume sent his head spinning again.
♫ Candy, she's sweet like candy in my veins
Baby, I'm dying for another taste ♫
Baby, I'm dying for another taste ♫
The next track on his MP3 player rang out, echoing Clark’s own thoughts as a dumb smile was plastered across his face. Turning the volume up, he stretched his arms out, spinning around while dancing, only to suddenly find himself staring into a pair of headlights.
Frozen in that moment, Clark couldn’t think as the car was suddenly on top of him. The screeching of tires and twisting of metal drowned out the music. Headphones were ripped from his ears as the full weight of the American-made sedan collided with his chest. Metal and concrete broke against Clark’s back, the ground going out from under him, before suddenly the night air was replaced by the freezing waters of the Elbow River.
Pulled along by the current, Clark narrowly missed having the black Towncar land on top of him while he frantically checked himself for any sign of injury. Surfacing, he gasped for air but, beyond shock, couldn’t find any injury on himself.
“What the h-” Clark muttered to himself before his eyes darted back to the ruined bridge and the glowing taillights beneath the surface.
The driver!
Stripping off the heavy denim jacket, Clark dove back beneath the surface. His mind was racing as he tried to figure out why he was still alive. His parents had always been protective, but Clark had been sickly when he was younger. In his adolescence, that had gone away, and he was the picture of health.
Taking hold of the windshield, Clark pried it from the car with ease. Pulling the unconscious man from the front seat before noticing another passenger in the car. Pushing himself, he delivered the driver to shore before plunging back in.
His lungs should have been burning by now. But Clark barely felt winded. He chalked it up to adrenaline before the roof of the car in his hands suddenly peeled back like the top of a can of beans. Clark barely had time to register what he had done before he pulled the man from the wreckage.
Dressed in a suit finer than anything Clark had seen in Smallville. The man had a magnificent mane of hair that spilled over his shoulders. Pulling him ashore, Clark felt the hands of another begin to help as the first man had regained consciousness.
“Sir!” He yelled, “Mr. Luthor, Sir!” He yelled again before pushing Clark aside and beginning to try to resuscitate the man who must have been his boss. Flashes of red and blue refracted from the bridge above as the Sheriff’s department made its way on the scene.
A cough brought Clark’s attention back to the man he had pulled from the water. The older man spat out a mouthful of water before the driver helped him to sit up.
“Is-” Clark started, his eyes wide as the situation all began to sink in. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Young man,” The driver replied, “He is, thanks to you.” He said with a relieved smile.
“Not every day a teenager saves one of the most powerful men in the world.”
A tug on the driver’s sleeve directed his attention back to his employer as the man croaked a request.
“I’d like to shake the hand of the one who saved me.”
Clark stood, his legs feeling unsteady beneath him.
“Clark, Sir, Clark Kent.” Clark offered a hand as he spoke.
“Young man, I owe you a great debt of gratitude.” The man replied, taking Clark’s outstretched hand. He gave it a firm squeeze before placing his other hand over top of Clark’s.
“My name is Lionel, Lionel Luthor.”
“Clark!”
Lex called out jovially as Clark entered the den of the younger Luthor’s home. He embraced Clark with a quick hug before holding up a glass.
“Can I offer you a drink? I don’t think I’ve seen you since the wedding, and I must admit that night was a blur.”
“A fifty-year-old Scotch will do that,” Clark replied with a smirk of his own.
“Ah, yes, well, if a man intends to only get married once, he should make it a night to remember.” The bald man replied with a genuine grin.
“I’m pretty sure you spent more on that bottle of Scotch than I’ll make in a year at the Planet.” Clark retorted dryly.
It was Lex’s turn to smirk.
“You didn’t exactly pick a lucrative career. My father would have happily helped you gain admission to any school of your choice. But as I recall, you turned him down.” Lex replied, holding up the class again as Clark politely declined.
“Sorry, I’m on the clock,” He answered, shaking his head.
“Ah, so this social call is actually a work call,” Lex stated coolly.
“I like to think of a social call within work hours,” Clark retorted, “Did you see the news regarding the metahuman attack at the bank in Midtown?”
“Hard to keep track of during the record crime wave Metropolis is currently experiencing, but I believe I did,” Lex said dismissively, pouring himself another drink.
“Luthorcorp has contacts with facilities that could help these people, don’t they?”
“Clark, you are aware my wife was the responding agent on that scene today.” Lex countered, “Well, I’m sure your intentions are good, but I don’t have much of a desire to live in a house divided by overstepping my wife’s jurisdiction.” Lex rubbed the top of his head, stopping at the base of his skull before massaging his neck.
“Lex, these people don’t deserve to be locked up, they need someone to help them find a place in this world where they can use their abilities for good.”
“Like Superman?” The other man countered.
Clark paused for a second.
“No-”
“See, Clark, that’s the problem. The media has turned Superman into some kind of an idol to be worshiped, and for what? For breaking the law. Last I checked, vigilantism was still illegal in America. But no one stops Superman, so why wouldn’t every other meta or mutant think they couldn’t take advantage of their powers too?” Lex argued, his voice firm, leaving little room for argument.
But Clark wasn’t about to back down.
“Lex, I don’t think that’s a fair comparison. They’re not looking to be treated differently. Most metas are an average everyman. Just someone looking for a place to belong. The majority of whom would sooner give up their abilities if it meant a normal life.”
“And what would you have Luthorcorp do?”
“This,” Clark replied, handing Lex a folder from within the satchel slung over his shoulder.
“I found this through the Planet’s archives. ‘Project Everyone’, a Luthorcorp incentive program that would give a purpose to metahumans, a fulfilling life where they could use their abilities to make a difference in exchange for a stable life.”
Lex took the folder, slowly flipping through the documents inside. His face looked as though he had seen a ghost.
“This was one of my mother’s ideas,” Lex explained. His tone softened.
“I know,” Clark replied with a small smile.
“That’s a low blow, Clark.”
“I know,” Clark repeated with a wider smile. “But it’s something to think about. I did some further digging, and I think you might be able to broker a deal with Frost-”
“Mr. Luthor!”
The two men turned to where the third had entered the den.
“It’s your wife, Sir, she’s just been admitted to Metropolis General.”
Lex called out jovially as Clark entered the den of the younger Luthor’s home. He embraced Clark with a quick hug before holding up a glass.
“Can I offer you a drink? I don’t think I’ve seen you since the wedding, and I must admit that night was a blur.”
“A fifty-year-old Scotch will do that,” Clark replied with a smirk of his own.
“Ah, yes, well, if a man intends to only get married once, he should make it a night to remember.” The bald man replied with a genuine grin.
“I’m pretty sure you spent more on that bottle of Scotch than I’ll make in a year at the Planet.” Clark retorted dryly.
It was Lex’s turn to smirk.
“You didn’t exactly pick a lucrative career. My father would have happily helped you gain admission to any school of your choice. But as I recall, you turned him down.” Lex replied, holding up the class again as Clark politely declined.
“Sorry, I’m on the clock,” He answered, shaking his head.
“Ah, so this social call is actually a work call,” Lex stated coolly.
“I like to think of a social call within work hours,” Clark retorted, “Did you see the news regarding the metahuman attack at the bank in Midtown?”
“Hard to keep track of during the record crime wave Metropolis is currently experiencing, but I believe I did,” Lex said dismissively, pouring himself another drink.
“Luthorcorp has contacts with facilities that could help these people, don’t they?”
“Clark, you are aware my wife was the responding agent on that scene today.” Lex countered, “Well, I’m sure your intentions are good, but I don’t have much of a desire to live in a house divided by overstepping my wife’s jurisdiction.” Lex rubbed the top of his head, stopping at the base of his skull before massaging his neck.
“Lex, these people don’t deserve to be locked up, they need someone to help them find a place in this world where they can use their abilities for good.”
“Like Superman?” The other man countered.
Clark paused for a second.
“No-”
“See, Clark, that’s the problem. The media has turned Superman into some kind of an idol to be worshiped, and for what? For breaking the law. Last I checked, vigilantism was still illegal in America. But no one stops Superman, so why wouldn’t every other meta or mutant think they couldn’t take advantage of their powers too?” Lex argued, his voice firm, leaving little room for argument.
But Clark wasn’t about to back down.
“Lex, I don’t think that’s a fair comparison. They’re not looking to be treated differently. Most metas are an average everyman. Just someone looking for a place to belong. The majority of whom would sooner give up their abilities if it meant a normal life.”
“And what would you have Luthorcorp do?”
“This,” Clark replied, handing Lex a folder from within the satchel slung over his shoulder.
“I found this through the Planet’s archives. ‘Project Everyone’, a Luthorcorp incentive program that would give a purpose to metahumans, a fulfilling life where they could use their abilities to make a difference in exchange for a stable life.”
Lex took the folder, slowly flipping through the documents inside. His face looked as though he had seen a ghost.
“This was one of my mother’s ideas,” Lex explained. His tone softened.
“I know,” Clark replied with a small smile.
“That’s a low blow, Clark.”
“I know,” Clark repeated with a wider smile. “But it’s something to think about. I did some further digging, and I think you might be able to broker a deal with Frost-”
“Mr. Luthor!”
The two men turned to where the third had entered the den.
“It’s your wife, Sir, she’s just been admitted to Metropolis General.”
“How’s my favourite sister doing?”
Alexandra Luthor rolled her eyes at the voice on the other side of the phone, a playful smile forming on her lips before she shifted her body away from the transport driver.
“I’m your only sister, Carol.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not my favourite.” Carol teased, eliciting a slight upturn at the corner of Lexa’s mouth.
“What’s the trick to marrying rich, Sis?”
Lexa scoffed at the question.
“You say that like I’m sitting around a mansion drinking Domaine de la Romanée-Conti all day while lying lazily by the pool.”
“I don’t know why you’re not.” Came the reply of disbelief through the phone.
“The same reason you’re off risking your life flying whatever death trap S.W.O.R.D. has you strapped in.”
“Oooh, daddy issues.”
“Carol!”
“You know it as much as I do, Dad was navy brass, and if your name wasn’t Stephen or Joe Jr., he didn’t have time for you. Why else do you think I joined the Air Force and you signed up with S.W.O.R.D.? Hell, I bet you even push ol’Richie Rich around.”
“I do not push my husband around; I challenge him to be a better man.”
“Spoken exactly like Joseph Danvers Sr.” Carol retorted, her playful laugh stung against Lexa’s cheek. Her baby sister had always been the more rebellious of the four of them. Joey was the rule follower, their parents' firstborn, then came Alexandra, who was expected to act every bit the lady her mother was. Stephen was the third born and the apple of his father’s eye, while Carol was the baby.
She used to be a sweet baby, too, before she became the strong-willed brat on the other end of the line. Little baby ‘Cara’, cute as a button, as destructive as a big red one.
“Is there a reason for this phone call?” Lexa replied unamused.
“Do I need a reason to call my big sis? Maybe I just missed you, bitch.”
Suddenly, the vehicle dropped, lurching forward one more time before the sound of spinning tires and splattering liquid asphalt echoed from around the cab.
“Carol, I’ll call you back.” Lexa snapped, clicking the phone off before turning to the agent driving.
“I thought you put the power dampeners on her.”
“I did, this ain’t her.”
“Then who-”
Lexa was cut off as flames erupted across the windshield. The temperature of the cabin began to rise rapidly, and the vehicle was unable to free itself from the tar-like trap in which it was lodged. Reaching for the door, Lexa’s hand recoiled almost immediately, the handle nearly leaving a second-degree burn on the palm of her hand. She spun around, raising her heels towards the door and landing a strike before the other agent pulled her away.
“Are you crazy? You’ll create a vacuum.”
“I’d rather risk that than die broiled.” Lexa retorted, shaking her coworker off before preparing another strike. Her head was pounding, eyes growing heavier with each second. She felt her legs lash out weakly. Trying once, twice, thrice before finding herself struggling to breathe, gasping for breath before her eyelids closed.
And darkness took over.
Alexandra Luthor rolled her eyes at the voice on the other side of the phone, a playful smile forming on her lips before she shifted her body away from the transport driver.
“I’m your only sister, Carol.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not my favourite.” Carol teased, eliciting a slight upturn at the corner of Lexa’s mouth.
“What’s the trick to marrying rich, Sis?”
Lexa scoffed at the question.
“You say that like I’m sitting around a mansion drinking Domaine de la Romanée-Conti all day while lying lazily by the pool.”
“I don’t know why you’re not.” Came the reply of disbelief through the phone.
“The same reason you’re off risking your life flying whatever death trap S.W.O.R.D. has you strapped in.”
“Oooh, daddy issues.”
“Carol!”
“You know it as much as I do, Dad was navy brass, and if your name wasn’t Stephen or Joe Jr., he didn’t have time for you. Why else do you think I joined the Air Force and you signed up with S.W.O.R.D.? Hell, I bet you even push ol’Richie Rich around.”
“I do not push my husband around; I challenge him to be a better man.”
“Spoken exactly like Joseph Danvers Sr.” Carol retorted, her playful laugh stung against Lexa’s cheek. Her baby sister had always been the more rebellious of the four of them. Joey was the rule follower, their parents' firstborn, then came Alexandra, who was expected to act every bit the lady her mother was. Stephen was the third born and the apple of his father’s eye, while Carol was the baby.
She used to be a sweet baby, too, before she became the strong-willed brat on the other end of the line. Little baby ‘Cara’, cute as a button, as destructive as a big red one.
“Is there a reason for this phone call?” Lexa replied unamused.
“Do I need a reason to call my big sis? Maybe I just missed you, bitch.”
Suddenly, the vehicle dropped, lurching forward one more time before the sound of spinning tires and splattering liquid asphalt echoed from around the cab.
“Carol, I’ll call you back.” Lexa snapped, clicking the phone off before turning to the agent driving.
“I thought you put the power dampeners on her.”
“I did, this ain’t her.”
“Then who-”
Lexa was cut off as flames erupted across the windshield. The temperature of the cabin began to rise rapidly, and the vehicle was unable to free itself from the tar-like trap in which it was lodged. Reaching for the door, Lexa’s hand recoiled almost immediately, the handle nearly leaving a second-degree burn on the palm of her hand. She spun around, raising her heels towards the door and landing a strike before the other agent pulled her away.
“Are you crazy? You’ll create a vacuum.”
“I’d rather risk that than die broiled.” Lexa retorted, shaking her coworker off before preparing another strike. Her head was pounding, eyes growing heavier with each second. She felt her legs lash out weakly. Trying once, twice, thrice before finding herself struggling to breathe, gasping for breath before her eyelids closed.
And darkness took over.
High above the clouds over Metropolis, Clark soared free from the prying eyes of the media, otherwise known as his coworkers. While the woman had acted aggressively, Clark knew it was out of desperation, not malice. He had seen that behaviour before on his own travels. It was like she had been an animal backed into a corner with no way out but to fight.
But attacking a bank during the middle of the day was a risky move, even for someone desperate. Clark wished he had done more to help her, but with the volatile nature of the fire, the lives of those around the bank came first. He did what he had done to minimize damage across the board.
But by doing so, had he further endangered a desperate woman?
It wasn’t that Clark was looking to have Superman run afoul of the Department of Extranormal Operations, let alone A.R.G.U.S. But there were better ways to help metahumans and mutants. People and organizations that actually cared about their well-being.
If Clark hadn’t been so quick to turn the woman over to the police, he could have found her a place that would have put a roof over her head or a meal in front of her. He thought back to their encounter, recalling the room and the woman.
She had been engulfed in the flames, but through the flames, his keen eyes still could make out details. Bruises on the skin, a needle mark at the base of her neck. Her clothing had been torn and tattered, something Clark had initially dismissed as a choice, but in hindsight, perhaps she had escaped from somewhere.
They hadn’t fought in the main vault. No, Clark had discovered the woman in the safe deposit boxes. She had a box in her hand before the fight had started. He focused the image in his mind, attempting to extrapolate the details.
Safe deposit boxes didn’t have names assigned to them. They were numbered. Even if Clark could make out the number, it would take further investigation still to figure out who that box belonged to.
And that was assuming it wasn’t a random box.
9842
That was the number.
“Clark?”
A voice at the door of his apartment called, following a series of three quick knuckle knocks. Clark had barely realized he had made it back to his apartment. His eyes shot wide as he looked around, realizing he had fumbled his way in through the fire escape. Deactivating the suit, he scrambled to his closet for a change of clothes.
“Hey, if you’re in there, handsome, I just wanted to say thanks for the banana bread,” The voice continued before Clark hastily finished dressing and opened the door.
Standing in the hallway of the decrepit apartment building was his neighbour from across the hall. The flickering light of the dying fluorescent bulbs highlighted every shade of red in her hastily tied-up bun, from auburn to copper to strawberry blonde. Even in the dead of winter, she was still wearing a cropped sweater and low-rise jeans that showed off both a toned abdomen and the matching pair of stars tattooed atop either hip.
“Oh, hey, Kansas,” The redheaded woman said with a smirk, “I didn’t mean to interrupt, and you didn’t have to get dressed on account of me.” She added with a playful wink.
“Lisa, sorry, I was just about to head out.”
“With your tie uneven and your shirt half buttoned?” Lisa smirked, “C’mon, beefcake, where is she?” The redhead teased, standing up on her tiptoes, trying to look over the taller man’s shoulder.
“Or he,” Lisa added, playfully, “I don’t judge.”
Moving her hands to Clark’s collar, Lisa quickly straightened it out before beginning to fix the buttons on his shirt and adjusting his tie.
“I can-”
“Shush, Kansas, I got this. A feminine touch goes a long way.” Her hands paused on his abdomen. A smile crossed her freshly glossed lips.
“You really ought to wear something more fitted. These feel like abs of steel.”
“I uh, don’t, uh” Clark stammered, gently pulling her hands away, “Thank you?”
“No, thank you,” Lisa replied, her eyes quickly darting down and back up again as she playfully saluted Clark, “At ease, soldier.”
She batted her eyelashes, ocean blue eyes with just a hint of green outlined in a smoky shadow, looking up towards Clark while she continued to speak.
“Anyways, yeah, just wanted to thank you for the banana bread, it made a great pick me up in the middle of the night. I don’t think I would have made it through last night’s shift without it.” She smirked, a finger tracing Clark’s chest again.
“You should visit me at work sometime, I think you’d really enjoy it.”
“I appreciate the offer, Lisa, but y’know, the news, it just doesn’t write itself,” Clark replied, looking at his watch again. “Speaking of which, I’ve, uh, got to go.”
“You can play coy all you want, Clark Kent, but I know you’re dying to have dinner with a ravishing redhead.” Lisa stated, “Look, there’s a showing of one of my favourite movies at the old filmhouse down in Layfatte this Friday, I was thinking you could be my arm candy?”
“I, uh-”
“Great, pick me up at seven and feel free to wear something with deep pockets.” Lisa winked, “It’ll be worth it.”
Clark nodded, inwardly shaking his head before pulling out his cellphone.
“Hello?” The voice on the other end answered.
“Lex, it’s Clark. Could I drop by?”
“Of course, it’s been too long. I always have time for a friend.”
But attacking a bank during the middle of the day was a risky move, even for someone desperate. Clark wished he had done more to help her, but with the volatile nature of the fire, the lives of those around the bank came first. He did what he had done to minimize damage across the board.
But by doing so, had he further endangered a desperate woman?
It wasn’t that Clark was looking to have Superman run afoul of the Department of Extranormal Operations, let alone A.R.G.U.S. But there were better ways to help metahumans and mutants. People and organizations that actually cared about their well-being.
If Clark hadn’t been so quick to turn the woman over to the police, he could have found her a place that would have put a roof over her head or a meal in front of her. He thought back to their encounter, recalling the room and the woman.
She had been engulfed in the flames, but through the flames, his keen eyes still could make out details. Bruises on the skin, a needle mark at the base of her neck. Her clothing had been torn and tattered, something Clark had initially dismissed as a choice, but in hindsight, perhaps she had escaped from somewhere.
They hadn’t fought in the main vault. No, Clark had discovered the woman in the safe deposit boxes. She had a box in her hand before the fight had started. He focused the image in his mind, attempting to extrapolate the details.
Safe deposit boxes didn’t have names assigned to them. They were numbered. Even if Clark could make out the number, it would take further investigation still to figure out who that box belonged to.
And that was assuming it wasn’t a random box.
9842
That was the number.
“Clark?”
A voice at the door of his apartment called, following a series of three quick knuckle knocks. Clark had barely realized he had made it back to his apartment. His eyes shot wide as he looked around, realizing he had fumbled his way in through the fire escape. Deactivating the suit, he scrambled to his closet for a change of clothes.
“Hey, if you’re in there, handsome, I just wanted to say thanks for the banana bread,” The voice continued before Clark hastily finished dressing and opened the door.
Standing in the hallway of the decrepit apartment building was his neighbour from across the hall. The flickering light of the dying fluorescent bulbs highlighted every shade of red in her hastily tied-up bun, from auburn to copper to strawberry blonde. Even in the dead of winter, she was still wearing a cropped sweater and low-rise jeans that showed off both a toned abdomen and the matching pair of stars tattooed atop either hip.
“Oh, hey, Kansas,” The redheaded woman said with a smirk, “I didn’t mean to interrupt, and you didn’t have to get dressed on account of me.” She added with a playful wink.
“Lisa, sorry, I was just about to head out.”
“With your tie uneven and your shirt half buttoned?” Lisa smirked, “C’mon, beefcake, where is she?” The redhead teased, standing up on her tiptoes, trying to look over the taller man’s shoulder.
“Or he,” Lisa added, playfully, “I don’t judge.”
Moving her hands to Clark’s collar, Lisa quickly straightened it out before beginning to fix the buttons on his shirt and adjusting his tie.
“I can-”
“Shush, Kansas, I got this. A feminine touch goes a long way.” Her hands paused on his abdomen. A smile crossed her freshly glossed lips.
“You really ought to wear something more fitted. These feel like abs of steel.”
“I uh, don’t, uh” Clark stammered, gently pulling her hands away, “Thank you?”
“No, thank you,” Lisa replied, her eyes quickly darting down and back up again as she playfully saluted Clark, “At ease, soldier.”
She batted her eyelashes, ocean blue eyes with just a hint of green outlined in a smoky shadow, looking up towards Clark while she continued to speak.
“Anyways, yeah, just wanted to thank you for the banana bread, it made a great pick me up in the middle of the night. I don’t think I would have made it through last night’s shift without it.” She smirked, a finger tracing Clark’s chest again.
“You should visit me at work sometime, I think you’d really enjoy it.”
“I appreciate the offer, Lisa, but y’know, the news, it just doesn’t write itself,” Clark replied, looking at his watch again. “Speaking of which, I’ve, uh, got to go.”
“You can play coy all you want, Clark Kent, but I know you’re dying to have dinner with a ravishing redhead.” Lisa stated, “Look, there’s a showing of one of my favourite movies at the old filmhouse down in Layfatte this Friday, I was thinking you could be my arm candy?”
“I, uh-”
“Great, pick me up at seven and feel free to wear something with deep pockets.” Lisa winked, “It’ll be worth it.”
Clark nodded, inwardly shaking his head before pulling out his cellphone.
“Hello?” The voice on the other end answered.
“Lex, it’s Clark. Could I drop by?”
“Of course, it’s been too long. I always have time for a friend.”
“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.”
“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.  |
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