The crack of thunder disturbs the quiet peacefulness of the open plain. Amidst the somber deluge, the instant flash of light reveals a solitary figure enduring the downpour. Raising his head to the tempest, Clark Kent furiously cries out in frustration at accursed storm from which he cannot escape.
"I know Lex, but we just don't like taking Clark to doctors. We have our reasons."
"I can't believe you're going to put your own son's life in danger Mrs. Kent," Lex Luthor announced with anger, and concern, coloring his tone. "Especially when you have no idea what's wrong with him!"
"Look Lex," Jonathan spoke up angrily. "He's our son and we will do what's best for him!"
"Fine," Lex said turning stiffly towards the loft steps. "Just call me when you've come to your senses."
"Wow," Chloe said witnessing her first Jonathan-Lex argument. She stepped a little further from Jonathan, but not too far from Clark's fevered body.
"You said it," Lana said, joined by a nod from Pete.
The momentary awkwardness among the group was soon cut short as Clark let out a small moan of pain. The three women rushed to Clark's side to help him in some way, while the two men looked on in silent frustration.
"As long as they're looking after Clark," Jonathan began to Pete, "you should probably tell me what happened."
Striding through the school doors, with a beatific smile settled on his handsome face, and the prettiest girl on the planet clinging to his side, the man of the hour arrives. Instantly besieged by fans asking for autographs and congratulating him on his latest victory, Clark Kent is only happy to oblige. Grinning up at the love of her life, Lana Lang gingerly unwraps herself from his comfortable, and mysteriously invulnerable, flannel jacket so that he can sign copies of the Torch. He signs pictures of himself in various heroic stances: uppercutting a meteor freak, pulling a bus from the path of a train, facing down some giant monster; the pictures are endless and he slights no one. He finally breaks away from the crowd after he sees Chloe, and her long-time boyfriend Pete, cheerfully making her way towards him. He and Lana congratulate Chloe for the wonderful stories she continues to write on him. She happily returns the thanks for giving her such terrific stories to write about. The four continue to talk about Clark's latest exploits and set up a time for their next double date at the Luthor mansion when…
KRAKOOM
Clark's perfect world is torn asunder by unearthly lightning. Lana, Chloe, Pete, school, his perfect life—all violently ripped away. All fade as the mocking rain washes it all away. Sobbing at the injustice, Clark collapses to his knees in the middle of the dark, endless plain of undeserved torment.
"I'm not really sure how it happened," Pete explained to Jonathan. "But it started when Chloe dragged us all to that new fortune teller to debunk her. Somehow, Chloe got Clark to go first. Everything was going fine until the lady told Clark to touch her crystal ball. As soon as he did, he went into convulsions. Before he passed out, he told us to bring him home."
"What about the fortune teller?" Jonathan asked, his eyes all but turning red.
"She freaked and took off as soon as Clark wigged."
"Well, we'd better find her." The tone in Jonathan's voice overriding any qualms, "And find out what she did to Clark."
A momentary hush falls, as Clark Kent arrives in front of the high school in one of Lex's Porches. Striding up the steps bedecked in black, he looks as if he owns the school, and in a way he does. Hair spiked up in a garish fashion, his face set in a perpetual sneer, no one dares stand up to him—the one time the football team tried, they all ended up in body casts…the lucky ones anyway. Strutting down the hallways, he occasionally slows to smash open a locker or two. The crowds of teens part in fear as he approaches. He makes his way to the remains of the Torch office—his own personal lounge—and arrives to meet his long time flunky, Pete. Clark drops himself down on what remains of a battered chair and gazes around in boredom. His eye catches on one of the remaining photos of himself. It is a particularly gruesome picture, which pleases him to no end. Looking at it, Clark momentarily regrets the loss of the girl—Chloe, he thought it was—who had taken it. She had been a hot little number, but had made him angry once too often. Dropping from his mind, Clark's thoughts turn to the fun he will have with Lex later. He always enjoys it when Lex gives him "jobs" in the city—better than being a loan shark even.
KRAKOOM
As the disturbing reality is washed away, blessed relief claims Clark. Once again, Clark howls over the hideous torture that besets him on the godforsaken plain.
"Damn!" Jonathan exclaimed in disgust and anger as he slammed his fist against the hood of his truck. The fortuneteller's office had been vacated in obvious haste. "I can't believe she took off."
"And she took her crystal ball with her." Pete said in just as much anger.
"Well, we have to find her, and fast."
Tires spun, then peeled out as Jonathan and Pete drove after the woman responsible for Clark's mysterious ailment.
Breathing in ragged gasps more of fear than lack of air, Clark hides behind a large tree in the middle of a national park. The fact that even there he isn't safe continues to claw at his mind. He doesn't know how the agents keep finding him and he doesn't care. All that worries him at the moment is that they have weapons laced with meteor fragments. He nearly vomits as he remembers how they had obtained that bit of knowledge about his weakness. He weeps for his lost friends and family—even the friend who betrayed him— as he once again speeds away, looking for somewhere safe to rest. The scent of the forest and the calm, unwavering trees, seem to mock his efforts to survive. The crack of a meteor-enhanced bullet being ejected from a high-powered rifle sends a wave of protesting birds from their roosts. The intense pain of having a hole forcefully projected through his body causes the speeding boy to slam into a tree. Slipping into the unforgiving dark of unconsciousness, the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, Clark, the hunted alien, hears the words that will haunt him forever—"Lock him up. Damn freak'll never see the sun again where he's going."
KRAKOOM
"Clark, please don't leave us! You can't leave us now. We all love you too much to let you go. As hard as it is to admit this, she loves you as much as I do. You can choose whoever you want, I don't care, just come back!"
A split second faster, a fraction of an inch more, that's all he needs, but it isn't enough. He simply isn't as fast as he has to be this time. Clark sees with dread as the bullets slips past his stretching fingertips. He screams in agony as the inching metallic slugs slam into the people he loves—Lana, Chloe, Pete, Lex, his parents—all contort as the finger of death touches each and every one of them. He watches in horror as they slump to the floor in excruciatingly slow motion. He turns to the gunman with the fires of hell blazing fury in his eyes. The man doesn't even have time to blink before he his literally torn apart. His sorrow rising within like a great tsunami, Clark turns and rushes to his dying friends.
KRAKOOM
"Jonathan! Pete! Did you find the fortune teller?" Martha asked with hope clouding her tone. Her face betrayed a look of hopelessness.
Lana and Chloe looked up from Clark's pale face quickly in the hope that the men had found a cure for the man that they loved.
"We had to trail her for an hour, but yeah," Jonathan said with more than a little anger flushing his face.
The stony look on Pete's face said little towards the situation.
"Well, what did you find out?"
"I'm not sure if it's good news exactly, or bad news," Jonathan said oddly. "I finally got out of the lady that her crystal ball has some…odd ingredients in it."
"Let me guess," Chloe spoke suddenly, her face twisted angrily, "It had meteor rocks in it. Those damn things mess up everything."
Pete and Lana looked quizzically at Chloe for the sudden change of mind.
"Actually, it did," Jonathan spoke, inwardly relieved that no one had thought it was partly Clark. "But there's more to it. The lady said that Clark has to come out of it on his own. There is no cure."
Silence fell over the loft as the realization sunk.
"Don't worry," Pete spoke unexpectedly, "Clark is tough—he'll make it."