Superman: Arisen Chapter 12: Warrior Within, a superman fanfic

Chapter Eleven

WARRIOR WITHIN

Clark was struggling to keep himself calm. It was quite difficult when your opponent had just ripped a man's head off of his body. She was holding it right now, holding the body…how could she be so calm…she was clearly a cold blooded killer.

He needed to isolate her from the other man and detain him after.

'Look…just put the weapon down.' Clark tried to reason with her, telling her that they should try to be civilised.

The warrior simply let the body drop from her grasp and she leapt off of the tank. 'Oh you spawn of Heracles…always brawn and no brains.'

Spawn of Heracles?

Clark cleared his throat. 'I…uh…I don't know what's going on here, ma'am but you have just murdered that man—'

'Again I reprimand you for your lack of competence in this situation.' The girl stood before him, her hands in a fist as she placed her sword in a sheath attached to her left leg. She was a rather masculine woman that did not sacrifice a curvaceous feminine body, leather chest piece of maroon with platinum breast-plate rim in the shape of an eagle and bracers on her forearm, possibly of the same material. Her attire resembled more a Hoplite of ancient Greece, with the addition of some sort of rope, gilded was attached to her silver belt. 'But seeing as you are here, you can give me the location of Heracles, your father.'

'Honestly, lady I have no clue what you're talking about—'

The warrior woman sprang on him, nailing him against the wall behind him. 'I won't ask again, bastard!'

'Hey,' Clark spat back, 'easy on the name-calling.'

The woman made a face of disgust. 'Pathetic,' she then made to punch him square in the face. She seemed to be enjoying it. She definitely knew what he was capable of. That punch could puncture a hole in a cargo ship. She was just about to punch him but Clark intercepted her strike. 'Find your strength, there, bastard?'

'That's enough!' Clark's eyes began to gleam red as he shoved her off of him.

The dark haired woman growled or rather a fierce laugh like a wild dog. 'Fight me, son of Heracles.' She drew out her short-blade and positioned herself. Her beautiful and tanned face held eyes of dark lavender, they glared at him yet she had an enticing smile…deceptive and she knew it.

'Trust me, lady…you would not want to try anything.'

Again…he was interrupted by her fist to his face, sending him flying back through the building and off a few miles. 'That's it!' Clark did not know how it happened. At first he was scrapping out of a pile of rubble, next he flew straight through the hole in the apartment at Mach 5 speed. He managed to lay a fist against her own face, throwing her all the way to the docks.

Next, Clark jumped on top of the tank. The other terrorist, clad in black Kevlar and army-wear, tried to scuffle off the tank but one look at the furry eyed creature and he had his hands up in surrender. 'Please,' he pleaded in an accent that was quite broken. His eyes landed on his comrade, in a headless mess on the ground. 'I give up…do not kill me.'

His eyes grew in furry and his voice fell to a growl. 'You will stay here until the police arrive. If you leave…I will find you again.'

The young man bobbed his head in compliance. 'Nightwing, do you copy?' Leanna's voice appeared in his head.

'Loud and clear, Watchtower,' he checked in.

'Sorry, dude, but your communicator sort of went offline for a moment.' There was more muffling from the other side before her voice became clear again. 'What the hell was that?'

Despite knowing she would not see, Clark shrugged. 'I have no idea, Lea. But man she packs a wallop.' He held his hand on his jaw, still a little sore from the warrior's punch. 'Stand-by and watch my back.'

'I know but uh…Clark about that other dude—'

'Not now, Lea, I think I see her moving.'

Nightwing left the scene for his adversary at the docks. She lay on a bed of ruined cargo containers. Her head spinning, her eyes dazed but she was still alive, and soon they became filled with rage, especially her opponent appeared.

Clark did not really expect her to stand down…only a few minutes in her company and he could already read her. Heavily military mind, when she flew out to strike at him he realised she was quick. Her stance reminded him of one he'd seen in that film Troy. Not really a good reference but still, she was quick and agile, she also saw his every moves almost before he'd actually enacted them.

He though, was able to sneak a few hits of his own. He intercepted a blow, holding her striking hand open and hit her around her right rib area. 'Argh, Hera!' she groaned but did not slow.

'I said enough!' Again she interrupted him with a sucker punch and found himself crashing through a window of an empty old warehouse a few miles away. It was dark and musky and before he even had a time to stand and process his surroundings, the warrior woman flew in, shattering her own entrance and began swinging her sword.

With quicker reflexes, Clark dodged every strike by mere millimetres. At first he thought that the blade would just shatter against his skin. It made contact but had no effect whatsoever on the metal. The sword was as strong and solid as it was before. The warrior didn't seem surprised at all and she kept at it.

It was useless. She was a machine, didn't look like she was going to tire. Clark furrowed. 'What do you want?!'

She probably noticed Clark lower his guard a little and caught him by the neck and held him against the wall behind him. 'You will reveal the location of your father, Son of Heracles!'

Acting on impulse, Clark set his gaze ablaze before him. The dark haired woman flew back seven metres, holding the side of her neck which was now bleeding. Clark advanced with his glowing eyes. 'I said enough!' She made a last move at him but Clark caught her blade and sent it out of her hand and sent it into the steel wall. Lea was yelling in his ear, telling him not to engage and retreat but Clark decided to ignore her. 'Stand down, warrior, and see reason.'

'Why should I, abomination!'

Clark cringed. How dare she! 'I am not the enemy!'

They became engaged in a staring competition when the silence was broken, rudely by footsteps, echoing in the great warehouse. 'We are all enemies…' they turned to see…the man from before, the terrorist that the warrior had so proudly decapitated. He was still alive?!

'Wow…what the heck is going on here?' Clark burst, his attentions now directly turned to this…zombie. It was that same man only, he seemed paler and the fact he was actually holding his head beneath his arm like a helmet.

The man spoke again, his voice low like a growl. His voice seemed disproportionate to the small body that sourced it. 'You believe that you are beyond reproach…princess.'

It seemed like Clark was just tossed to the side now as the warrior whom he had been engaged in a not so friendly brawl to the death, had turned all of her attention to the headless man. Though Clark had to admit the man…or whatever it was had his full attention as well.

'You believe that your oath to protect gives you importance…' he then placed his head back on and just like that it was brand new. If Clark wasn't confused before…he certainly was now. Things were getting way too complicated, way too quickly. It was ridiculous and he wondered what to do to slow things down a notch.

Then, the man flexed his arm and…an extra bone from his hand. He was holding it like a sword. 'Not a good sign then, I take it.'

'Silence, fool,' the brunette derided, she glared back at Clark and without further ado, she leapt forward prompting to strike her enemy first. The former Korean Terrorist blocked her attacks but to its surprise did not foresee Clark's jab to the man's torso.

They watched the Kevlar wearing terrorist thrown to the other side of the empty building. For some reason, Clark looked to the warrior beside him. She did the same but this time offered him what he assumed was her version of an approving smile and nod.

The terrorist leapt from his hole, aiming for them but the woman met him first, with a rain of punches and smashed the hell out of that thing. It made Clark wonder if she was holding back when they were fighting. Made him shudder what would happen if neither of them was held back by something or rather. It also had him question on what the heck she actually was. For a moment he had considered she might be of his race…perhaps.

She had the terrorist pinned down and began smashing his face. Bang! Bang! Bang! Went her fists, followed by the crushing sound of bones. She growled, 'Got you now, vlakas!' She seemed to be struggling with that, 'Argh, sihama!'

Clark dashed to her side and helped pin it against the concrete floor. But the creature had not become unconscious yet. He was sure slowing down but this possessed man still had fight. He pushed the two super powered beings with the souls of his feet, sending them to the opposite end. Clark heard the warrior swear again in Greek. Clark looks to her, 'I have an idea,' he tells her. 'Get ready.'

With that, Clark leaps forward, closing the gap between him and the man and held him by the collar before hurling him toward the ceiling. The warrior did not need any instructions. She flew half way and with that rope…a lasso, she cast it around the possessed terrorist and pulled hard. Casting him hard onto the concrete and it shattered. But she was not done, as she then threw the man around her and smashed it some more times around the warehouse with Clark just beating him as he passed, helplessly attached to the rope.

Then, after a while, it was done. The possession passed. How they knew? Well there was a huge rumble and an actual soul or demon or whatever it was escaped from the man's open mouth and with a shriek, the transparently blue ghost was gone.

Nothing could explain to him what had just happened—and this coming from an alien!

Instead the man now was moaning and screaming, holding his head and cradling his knees in a foetal positon on the floor. 'What's wrong with him?'

'I believe his body is a little slow and is reacting to actually having his head separate from his body.' It shocked Clark how cool and collected she sounded when she talked about murdering someone. Though he did suspect she'd already expected the possession.

'What the hell was that?' Clark asked rounding on her but was met by cold stares.

'I will be asking the questions, scum!' she held him against the wall, taking the same position she had before that possessed dude showed up. 'As I said…where is Heracles?'

Clark kept shaking his head at her questioning, denying anything. 'I told you, I know nothing about Sons of Heracles or whatnot, in fact the only Heracles I know is from Greek Mythology I had to study in Philosophy class!'

The warrior did not seem to buy it, so he elaborated. He told her that as far as what he knew he was, he said he was an alien…someone from the stars above seeing as she seemed even lost with the mention of the word "alien". Clark found that quite intriguing but then again, she did seem like a woman that wasn't quite from around here. The question was from where?

'So what do we do with him?'

The Warrior Woman shrugged. 'He will be feeling this agony for quite some time…maybe until sunset tomorrow. I could try knocking him unconscious for a while?'

Clark shook his head furiously and told her that it wouldn't be necessary. 'I'll get him to a hospital and have him on suicide watch just in case.'

'Suit yourself.'

They both made their way to the tank, still in one piece except for the hatch which was ripped off. The woman then hovered up onto the vehicle from within she produced a big wooden crate. 'What are you doing?' Clark questioned.

'Are you not a little bit curious as to what must be so important that it is worth stealing from your military but not important enough to place in your fortresses of high security?'

That was true and it had actually bugged him on his way down there but well, he'd expel them as paranoia. Sure, it was quite strange that foreign terrorists had infiltrated a US army base in the Metropolis district. Surely something of import would have ended up at the Pentagon under more surveillance and guard. 'Perhaps it did and was moved here for observation,' Clark offered. He was a little iffy but ultimately he wanted to know what it was just as much.

So Clark was by her side when she removed the lid. Strange. The crate was wooden, correct, but there was lead framing inside that encompassed straw. It cushioned…some sort of rock.

'Okay…this is…underwhelming,' Clark remarked. There was a slight irritation in his ear, a little annoying but not as annoying as the disappointment of the cargo. It sort of reminded him of that incident with Al Capone's Vault.

The Warrior shook his head. 'Now this does not make sense.' She picked up the strange rock, a little green in places. Some sort of jade. When Clark touched it, it felt hot…felt a bit like Gamma radiation. This was certainly not a good thing. He took a few steps away, especially when he heard the sirens rolling in.

'Okay, I think we better go before we get questioned.'

On the rooftops they dashed. Clark ran and leapt from building to building while the black haired woman simply flew. To tell the truth, Clark was quite jealous of that, thought to tell the truth, he had felt as though he himself were flying, or at least where he was defying gravity.

He'll have to test that someday.

He looked to his right at the attractive Greek woman. She was quite intriguing but he could not quite pinpoint what his fascination was. 'My name's Clark by the way.' She just remained silent—in fact she if anything, her face hardened. She looked mildly displeased. Maybe "Clark" was a swear word in Greek?

-=O=-

The world was getting bigger…Luthor's only fear was that it would get too big, too big for order and control to maintain. He used to have nightmares about that—a world without order, wreathed in flame and chaos. His nine year-old self, standing in a street, rumbling in the fires, men and women living in misery. Lionel had always told him that mankind was limited in a way that made it so easy to manipulate.

'We are a base species, far more so than animals,' he had once told him when they were at an international science conference in Geneva. 'We are disunited by nature, we fight amongst ourselves over land and power just like animals do…The only difference, son, is that we also have religion to fight over as well. We're by nature…selfish beings.'

Innocently, Lex looked up at his father, a man so tall he blocked the lights whenever the man addressed him. 'But what about mom?' he asked. 'She's good…she helps people in the city.'

Lionel ignored him and continued to flick through his reports. Lex shook his head and stared out the window of the private jet they owned. Once the clouds passed, there before his very eyes was laid out the entire city of Metropolis. His home. He immediately thought of the people his mother had tried to help—the homeless, the sick and infected, displaced and so many others that needed the attention of people with the means. It needed people that could make a difference to the world…his world. So far it had only his mother.

Lex was brought out of his time bubble and back to in his office…his empty and cold office with a first class view of his city. He sighs. 'She wasn't enough.'

A ringing sounded the phone on his desk. His assistant Mercy Graves had informed him that a pack of reporters from various news channels were waiting for him at the conference hall. Lex felt like banging his head on the glass desk. He knew exactly why they were here.

'Of all the time Project b1 wanted to activate it had to pick today. Then there was Albert Michaels…what was he thinking?' Luthor gave him free reign of his facilities with promises of vengeance in due time but the man had always been impatient. And where was his daughter?

So far he had reactivated the tracer implanted in her phone, but knowing her she had probably already located it and made short work on removing the infernal device. Just thinking about it gave him a small semblance of pride, though not entirely overshadowing his annoyance.

Thus…like any good CEO…like any good leader, he marched, devoid of shame and melancholy—to face the enemy.

When he entered the conference hall at the top of LexCorp, he was not surprised to be under fire, camera flashed from every direction. Accompanying those flashes were ear-numbing screeching. Oh how he hated the media, mainly when he was not in control.

'…Mr Luthor, Mr Luthor, any comments on the Atomic Skull attack?' one of the reporters from the Inquisitor inquired.

Luthor tried to recommend patience, but was then cut off by more questioning. Questions like 'What was that robot?' or 'is the Superman working with your company seeing as he's appeared in both scenes to defend your building?'

'How much is the rebuilding going to cost?' asked one of the reporters. 'Is Superman going to help in the repairs?'

Lex had just stepped onto the podium, in front of the masses, the many faces he couldn't trust all expecting trusted answers. But for full disclosure, Lex was quite interested to know that himself. He saw Mercy Graves standing in the corner on his right. He discretely called for her attention to listen in on the earpiece. 'Try to see if you could arrange a meeting with this Superman.' He watched her head nod slightly and from the side exit, she disappeared.

He sighed, trying to ignore the blinding flashes, truth's dirty light. This was going to be a very, very long session and he dreaded the outcome of it all.

-=O=-

LOCATION:

INNER-WEST METROPOLIS

They were staring at them. Eyes and mouths wide open, it would have been a fear come true if it weren't for the fact that he was not the source of the weirdness that stole their attention. Clark walked, feeling quite awkwardly beside a beautiful and clad warrior woman. Thus most of the onlookers staring like dummies were in fact men.

Clark however was simply plain. That normal was all wrapped in a large overcoat his dad had once worn when he first visited Metropolis.

'Uhm…Ma'am, shouldn't you…' Clark definitely wanted to avoid offending her further but it had to be said. 'Uhm…shouldn't you dress in more…conspicuous attire?'

The woman froze and stared at him rather incredulously but said nothing.

The mild-mannered sighed, 'Okay, fine…what about we go somewhere with fewer eyes?'

Thus they made it to the bridge at the Northern harbour. It was quieter, people that came were rather too engulfed in their own romances to notice a warrior clad lady. They walked beside the ocean—the sun just barely letting it's light out.

She needed to think a little bit, Clark could tell she was fighting an internal battle on whether or not to reveal anything to him. 'I am from a Southern tribe of Amazon warriors,' she decided.

Still not quite understanding Clark simply nodded and said 'Okay,' awkwardly, trying to get his head around what she'd said. 'Amazon Warriors?' as in from Greek mythology? 'So what was that thing, from before?'

The warrior took in a slight breath. 'It was a shade from the underworld. I do not know why it possessed that man and attacked you…The underworld has no quarrel with the living. Not on this scale anyway.' She appeared to be in thought about something. 'It said a very peculiar thing. You probably do not understand it as it was said in Aeolic Greek. "Only the dead have seen—"'

"—have seen the end of war," Clark was pleased to see her eyes light up at his recognition though wondered how. 'We have the same saying here by an American philosopher from Spain.' Then there was another question that bugged him, 'and that whole Son of Heracles thing?'

She laughed aloud as if he had just said the most funniest thing in history. 'Apologies, friend,' she said, sobering up. 'I had forgotten. But that is matter for another time.'

'Then let me help.'

The woman looked at him, scrutinisingly for a moment. 'You barely know me…or trust me…Hera, I even tried to kill you a moment ago. Thus giving you fuel against me.'

Clark shrugged her point aside and firmly stated that he wanted to aid her in any dilemma she faced. 'I was given a taste of your problems and I don't believe it is a good idea to face it alone.'

The Amazonian tilted her head a bit, 'Even if it could potentially kill you?' Clark smiled at her and nodded. 'That is a strange attitude to have….uhm…Clark.'

'It was how I was raised.'

The two shared a glance and she asked, 'From your mother?'

To which Clark nodded, and added his father as well. 'Parenting, as I have experienced is most often a shared responsibility. Both my mom and dad have taught me and helped me see the world.'

'A father?' the very prospect seemed foreign in her eyes. Clark was intrigued thus indulged her when she asked him if he still sees his father and what having one was like. What a father was like.

Clark became silent for a while. 'He died a long time ago.'

'Did he fall in battle?' she asked him with all seriousness. 'My mother fell in battle, cut down right in front of me while Themyscira burned, by someone I suspect had a hand in what you saw at the docks—which is actually why I came to Man's World.'

'You came to make sure no one else die in such a manner as hers?' She nodded. Clark understood in a way. 'It is an admirable purpose and a strong one too.'

They continued to walk when the warrior paused, it occurred to her that he'd dodged a question and decided to pursue it again. Again the strange man, hiding in plain sight such powers, was yet again hiding. She was beginning to get more and more interested in this character.

But after a few more talking, he finally complied though hesitant he told her in easy flow.

-=O=-

LOCATION:

SMALLVILLE,

The truck filled with Kents travelled from town and in about ten minutes had caught up with traffic. Young Clark and Jonathan had just picked up Martha and were headed home. '…look, I know that Met U is pretty far away but it's the best place offering Journalism and Bio-entanglement Physics.'

Jon sighed, occasionally looking towards his son seated beside him. 'I know it is Clark, but College here is closer so you could still help out around the farm.'

'I just want to do something helpful with my life,' Clark started. 'I can see the waves and frequencies that connect us all!'

Again, Mr Kent sighed, looking in the rear-view mirror and Martha Kent for some support. But by the looks of it, she appeared as though she was prepared to go with their son on this one. He'd known that Clark was meant for many great things. It was a feeling that transcended just the hopeful wishes of a father about his children. 'Son, you can help people here. Farming, feeding people, that's…that's not helping?'

'Look I didn't say that.'

'Clark, I utterly agree with you,' it was Martha's turn to voice her opinion after just observing the exchange from the back seat. 'But you know that you could postpone your term for two years there. That's more than enough time for you to help out until we can get more money, and hire more staff. Doesn't that scholarship offer lasts that long?'

'But it gets turned into a student loan after two years, mom.' Clark stopped, paused for a moment to just compile him-self. 'Look, dad,' he turned to face his father who was staring out onto the traffic. The day had gotten quite cloudy for his taste. 'I can take my first year at Met U and take the next year off for home and a job to pay back the loan…'

Jon shushed his son, subtly but not rude. He leaned forward over the dashboard. Something wasn't right and that feeling just held his heart, squeezing it. The clouds gathered close, hiding away the closing sun.

Martha grabbed her husband's shoulder. 'Jon…what is it?'

The young Clark saw his father's eyes widen with fear and panic. 'We need to get out of here.' The next thing they knew they were out on the freeway, people running and screaming in the opposite direction as a series of twisters began advancing on the traffic filled highway. The funnel dug into the ground like a blade, tearing open everything in its path. Jon pushed Clark towards the fleeing people, ordering him to take Martha to the overpass.

The young boy did not question him and escorted his mother hurriedly to the bridge. There was a woman struggling with her daughter. Clark did the decent thing and scooped the seven year-old in his arms and with her mother made for the overpass where Martha was waiting. Jon was behind them when another mother yelled from the crowd.

'Please help!' she cried trying to push her way to the front of the people. 'My son's not here!' she pointed at the collection of vehicles on the road. 'Please, my boy's still in the car!'

When Clark spun around to get him, he saw Jon had already sped off. He looked to his mother, asking her permission to go after them. 'Be careful, Clark,' she cautioned with a worried smile.

Kents were known to be rash and impatient when it came to morals. It was like an instinct to act upon a good course of action at any situation. Jonathan Kent was no exception. He knew the woman was Mrs Jill Kennedy, a working-class mom two if you call her husband out on his childish immaturity. Jon also helped Aaron Sullivan work on her car at the shop so he knew where little James must be hiding.

He could hear Clark calling for him from behind. It appeared strange that he actually worried about his indestructible son.

At last, Jon could see the blue SUV two cars away. Clark soon joined his fearful father. He could now see the boy in the back, crying his eyes out. 'Dad, you need to be careful, Dr Bradman said your heart might break.' Jon smiled weakly at him but reassured him nonetheless. They were about to go when Clark also heard another cry. Focussing past the SUV there was a sedan carrying a little girl no older than James. 'Dad,' he called out, his voice rising faintly over the wind whooshing angrily around them, 'Penny Finn in the other car!'

Jon nodded to his son. 'Okay, Clark you get Penny and I'll go for James,' Jonathan instructed calmly and instantly raced for the cars.

Clark had just gotten Penny out and ran for his father, by this point the violent tornado was so close that it had started ripping cars off the ground, his denim shirt, ripped open, waving in the winds. Then with the children hugging their rescuers tightly, the two Kent men battled the raging winds. He saw their truck being sucked into the raging vortex. Jon wrapped James in his brown jacket and moved against the tide.

Even with his amazing powers, Clark could feel the strength of the super winds raging by. They were pulling at him with a natural vengeance that almost rendered him obsolete, but holding onto little Penny, Clark continued to soldier on—keeping in mind his father was right behind him.

The tornado was getting close, too close, and Clark realised his feet were digging into the grey road, trying their very best to keep him fairly rooted. He looked behind him, at his father whom faired even worst. He tried to reach for him. 'Take my hand, Pa!'

The older Kent took hold of his son's hand just as he felt the raging winds pulling him by the feet. Things were getting far out of hand and he knew his son was struggling now to keep hold of him without crushing his hand. Jon continued to hold the boy in his arms as best he could but found it was getting far too difficult for him. Both the children were screaming and crying out for their parents.

'Hold on, Pa!'

Jon shook his head wildly, 'Son…son I can't.' His heart…it was giving in, he could feel it. He was fighting now, against the shocks his core was experiencing, with his whole body suspended off the ground. He tried now…one last time. He fought the tornado and held the poor boy for his son to take…he'd have to let go. 'Son, you have to take James.

'No, dad...' Clark pleaded, as he strained to keep Penny from the pressure. 'Pa, hold on!'

'Clark!' James called, now trying to hold onto Clark beside Penny.

He looked at his father, pleadingly, 'I can save you all, dad!' but Jon shook his head. It wasn't that he disagreed. But like everyone everywhere…you can't hold onto everything at once. Clark saw it, in his father's eyes. It was that look that he got when he saw something going his way, but Clark definitely did not see any of this going their way. He can't give up… 'You can't give up, Pa!' the young Kent cried, tears welling up in his eyes. There was so much going on, with Penny, and James and dad.

Again, Jon shook his head at his son. He knew what he had to do. There was so much fear and doubt in his eyes, so much he needed done but there was one certainty he needed to ensure. When it came to doing the right thing…nothing can be personal. 'I'm giving you…' that was it…his heart had but one last beat, '…a little light, son.'

With that…Jon gave one final boost for James, straight into…Clark's arms, reacting naturally, caught the kid but at the expense of his own father. He cried out as loud as his lungs could let, as he watched his father flying into the twister.

He shielded the two children in his arms from the pressurised wind storm, only hoping now that he could hold it long enough for the tornado to pass, all the while trying to stop himself from breaking down. But he could not just stand there. After several minutes of trying to recondition himself, he took a step forwards. 'Hold on guys.' Step by step, he plunged his feet thirty centimetres into the tar. His view of vision blurred still by the grey winds, he dodged every tree and piece of scrap metal that shot at him the right.

Step by step…My father just….step by step…he let go…step…I just…I just!

He felt like screaming, screaming against the violent forces of nature, commanding for it to stop…to leave them alone, to lighten up and let him at least save the two children with him.

-=O=-

'My dad did fall in battle,' Clark finished. 'He knew his heart was failing but he ran in anyway…to help. He knew that he wouldn't be able to save little Penny and James but he knew he could make sure that I could.'

'Are all Father's like that?' the woman inquired. 'Selfless?'

To that Clark did not know what to say. He knew she had a limited view of the world, didn't want to give her any negatives as her 101. But then again…he sort of lived in Man's World, so he thought he was probably biased. 'Only the best ones…uh…I don't actually know your name, ma'am.'

She grinned mischievously. 'That's because I have not given it to you…yet.'

'Is this a sort of like a test of faith thing?' Clark asked in earnest interest. 'I mean, I sort of gave you my name already.'

The Amazonian placed a friendly hand, gentle yet firm, upon his shoulder. They kept their gaze locked on each other and it seemed like they clicked. There was something in her eyes that Clark seemed to recognise. He did not know how long she'd actually been abroad but if anything her dark eyes told of isolation and loneliness. 'That is exactly why I will not give you mine just yet.'

Clark shrugged and extended his arm to her. 'Well, until then…just call me for any trouble.'

The Amazonian gazed at his hand with a raised brow but ultimately she grabbed hold of his forearm and shook it slightly, 'Gratitude, Mr Kent.'

(Adventure Continues Soon…)

-=O=-

His builders were miracle workers, Lex could tell you. It took less than six hours to completely patch up that hole in the lobby. His Project Collector was still safe but Lex could not stress how near faint his heart was. This was far too close for comfort.

Luckily for most reporters tend to sleep.

Dr Lerman had called him with 'Code 3 (Contact)'. This was the day he'd been looking forward to since his youth. Looking up at the starts at night he'd always wondered about the knowledge that infinite could offer him. The infinity of space, so wondrous, so mysterious but Luthor knew, even before the clear evidence. The appearance of Subject b1 had merely confirmed it. Then he got a call in the middle of the night by the research leader about their super radio picking up something.

The elevator opened and out of the cubicle, Luthor was met by a whole corridor of mess. The sudden sparks from the walls did not help the situation or his view of Lerman at all and the prospect of firing that mad scientist was frightful to say the least…but then again why not do both. Frankly he irked the shit out of him.

'Mr Luthor,' and there appeared Dr something-something Lerman. As stoked and uncomfortably enthusiastic as always, he mentally commented as the doctor ran to him in giddy skips. 'I'm glad you were able to make it. I hope I did not interrupt—'

'Don't worry about it, Dr Lerman,' the billionaire pardoned him. 'My daughter had just returned from god knows where and she looked quite upset. I'm smart enough not to stand beside a time bomb at countdown.'

He was led through the narrow corridors and toward several rooms. A glimpse of what laid in those rooms had him sigh in utter annoyance. The bodies of his interns, seeing as he himself had disposed of the previous ones.

These weren't even inducted yet.

'Excuse the mess, Mr Luthor but b1's destruction was long overdue. Luckily Superman was there, eh?' Luthor forced a smile but they both knew that. They continued to where Lerman kept the radio.

The device was a little crude, box about the same size as an Xbox console, connected to a large screen, now that part was new. The actual radio was created by Lex himself when he was in High School. His fascination with aliens and outer space had been the gateway to a tremendous childhood of wonder away from the hell that his father brought with him.

He saw the screen was locked on static so he faced the doctor, a little bit impatient. The call explicitly said 'Contact' and this was quite disappointing. Lex was not very pleased with disappointment.

Lerman saw this and a slither of fear pierced his heart as he stumbled to get to the point. He knew that Mr Luthor was not one for the details. Chances were that he'd already know them. 'Now, now, Mr Luthor,' he positioned himself at a safe distance on the other side of a rectangular table where the Xbox…Alien Frequency Identifying Receiver or (AFIR). 'I know what you must be thinking but please, be patient, sir. The thing is that we were not the one that found it.' From the static, a voice appeared—a deep and mysterious voice making some sort of unknown sounds that Lex decided must have been a different language. Lerman looked at his boss with a lopsided grin. 'It hijacked the frequencies we extended.'

Luthor looked to the screen. As wide as any flat-screen these days and from one side to the other were just a storm of snowflakes. 'Do you hear me,' he started. 'This is Lex Luthor of Metropolis, can you hear me?'

'I find your common tongue system quite interesting,' said the voice. 'A mixture of many other languages, like a parasite of linguistics, sucking up their identities…Latin…Arabic…Nordic…Greek…'

Lex was quite impressed. 'Are you…are you an alien?'

'I am an interdimensional being not bound in identity by planetary placement,' it answered. 'Though I have many names in many places, in your common tongue…my name is Brainiac.' And with that the static cleared, the screen revealed a man of metal, a robot, an android that looked quite similar to Subject b1—jade looking skin resembling what appeared to be rotting skin on a human skull, with glowing purple eyes and robotic diodes on his forehead. Though he spoke, his mouth did not move. 'I have come to collect.'

Luthor leaned closer. His eyes were studying him with a mixture of intrigue and suspicion. 'How can I help?'

-=O=-

SMALLVILLE

8 years ago…

It took a few more hours before the tornado passed. Thankfully the Overpass had actually helped, and the people of Smallville survived under its protection while some waited anxiously for their loved ones. Two families in particular searched for their children. Led by Martha Kent they ventured off to the destroyed roads, panic and fear on their faces.

What they found…What every person there saw, was miraculously mind-shifting.

Clark Kent, crouched in pain, wrapping two children with his body from debris the storm had callously discarded. The mothers' first instincts were to run to their children. Both James and Penny charged into their mom's secure arms and surrounded by family, seeing if they were alright.

Martha ran clear of the crowd, she then walked up to her son…but she saw no sign of her husband anywhere. She feared the worst. Her son was in laboured sobs and when he did look up at her, with his eyes red with a sorrow so terrible…yet she could guess, and it made her tremble. 'Mom…' he spoke.

'Clark?'

He revealed he'd been cradling something, a jacket…Jonathan's jacket. '…Mom?' Then he started to wail out in cries again. Martha knelt down and cradled her son in his arms, enveloping him with as much comfort as she could muster despite her own despair. She tried…she tried her best to shush her son from the ear-shattering sorrow, screaming at them. Jonathan Kent…was dead.

-=O=-

-=S=-

Author's Notes:

I did in fact take a bit from Man of Steel for this one. Like, the death of Jonathan Kent has been done many times in continuity, usually in film and television, but I did think that in Man of Steel, the twister thing was interesting and new but I had problems with the message it conveyed. That secrets and lies are worth dying for? For me personally that was never what the Kents were about. I mean they kept secrets but that was never the priority for them.

I know that some people have problems with why Clark didn't just go in and help, thinking that he'd definitely be strong enough to handle a tornado. I hold that he probably was not that strong at the time, I could be wrong but that's what I'm holding up. But that wouldn't have stopped Clark from trying; usually I held that secrets were not too important to him, even if his dad wanted him to keep it, if it costs lives, no brainer, Clark to the rescue.