Author Notes: Thanks for reviewing.
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Clark slept with his arms stretched over his head, elbows bent and fingers curled loosely. Slowly he woke, blinking and stretching his arms, perplexed by the feel of soft linen sheets and an unfamiliar mattress. He opened his eyes to a fairly large white room with wooden furnishings, and a large stone-laid window that looked out into a sea of green trees. He leaned against the windowsill, peering out curiously.
Whoa. Where am I?
He sighed as he went over the events of his departure the night before. His parents were sure to be worried about him. What was he doing here? My father asked me to come… my father! My real father. Someone like me. How can I give up this chance to find out where he lives, to get to know him?
We FLEW. We could be in Europe or something… I wouldn't know where to go even if I tried to leave.
Maybe I'll learn to fly, too. Clark thought of his fear of heights and winced, pushing them aside.
A murmur of voices floated to his keen ears and he opened the wood door, looking out into a stone hallway. He prowled down the long corridor, finding a set of steps at the end, down to where a heavy door was shut securely, distinct sound of conversation managing to escape through it. The knob slid open smoothly and Clark stepped into the room.
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"The building I have situated in the heart of New York has been pinpointed for sure. The only question is how soon they're going to take action-"
Malady heard the door click and her eyes flicked up and away from her fingers, playing with the bangles on her wrist. Surprised, she blinked. Who the hell? A tall guy with dark hair stood in the doorway. His hair was tousled, and he wore a loose white shirt and pale jeans. He looked vaguely sleepy, and he looked heavy-lidded over them and ended upon Jor-El.
She leaned forward to get a better look at Jor-El around Meatface's bulk. Meatface leaned forward as well, and she glared, irritated. The Hunter was a huge man with bizarrely disproportionate muscle and beady eyes that always seemed to be peering at her from his heavy face. Meatface couldn't be any uglier if he tried.
Finally she managed to lock her eyes upon Jor-El. He didn't look surprised to see the sudden visitor at all. Jor-El was strikingly handsome as always, and the usual calm mysterious expression was set into his eyes. Malady bit her lip slightly. Attractive, unattainable, and boss.
Thomas practically dropped the stack of papers he was holding. "Who are you?!" he demanded.
"This," Jor-El interrupted smoothly, "Is my son, Kal-El."
Everybody stopped. Son. Jor-El has a son. Where and when did that come from?!
Really, one of them is enough. Malady did enjoy Jor-El's company, however, and if his… son… was anything like him, things were sure to be interesting.
"Kal these are a few of my employees… Thomas, The Hunter, Malady, and Ras. I'll be out to speak with you shortly, we have some business to wrap up."
The son – the similarities between them were uncanny, really- nodded and exited quietly.
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Wolverine glared out the window of the Institute, finding anger for the peaceful front lawn and rows of flowers. This Jor-El character is really starting to piss me off. "We know where he is… why don't we just attack now?"
"Because 'Jor' is so rich, that the notion that he is staying in that particular house, is highly unlikely." Cyclops criticized, ignoring Wolferine's irritation. "Furthermore, we know nothing about him or his resources. Just look at this! He's kidnapped 25 mutants in the last year… what could he possibly be up to?"
"There's no clear motive as far as I can see." Ororo said. "He has taken over several major industries, as well, and has orchestrated the downfall of many large companies. All these seemingly random companies, small businesses, and buildings seem to belong to him. Several even go under the name of LuthorCorp, yet he controls them."
A noise from the doorway made them turn around. The Professor pushed his wheelchair into the room and joined them. "I have found the identities of the four mutants that he seemed to have taken as his main underlings. We've seen them together with him many times. The woman is Elizabeth D'Anthes, she has a way with computers. She can get into them similar to a computer virus, and go through files and destroy them. She's known as the mutant "Malady". Then there's Thomas Clifes… apparently he has no physical manifestation of the mutant gene, yet he has an extraordinary genius and has a capacity to store almost indefinite amounts of information in his brain. The large one is known as Jor-El's second in command, and his identity is lost to me… he's known only as 'The Hunter'. The last is Julian Well. There is no record of him using a mutation lately, though we'll assume there's one there."
Ororo's shoulders slumped. "What's our next move, Professor?"
"We should see what we can discover by looking into his 'factories', and what he keeps there. Maybe we kind find out what he's about."
"He kidnaps mutants, steals money and technology, has his own underground empire, and seems to be willing to do anything to gain more power. That's enough for me." Wolverine growled.
"We must proceed with caution. Jor-El himself is the greatest mystery. I'm positive he is a mutant, thought I haven't been able to find him or the others with Cerebro. What powers he has is beyond me, they must be great. The ones we intercepted were unable to give us any information, they were all terrified of him."
"So we've got a superpsycho manic-powerful mutant on our hands… but we knew that already, right?"
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"So they're different from the meteor mutants..." Clark nodded at his father.
"Yes. They're useful than the average human, I prefer their employment to that of the others. They have distinct uses to me."
"The four in there are mutants, then."
"Certainly." Jor-El stood, motioning with a tilt of his head that Clark was to follow him. The central staircase that seemed to conveniently lead everywhere twisted down into a large windowless room where a fire blazed under a large mantelpiece. The dark shadows of the room flickered forward onto the faces of the five or six people who sat around the room. In a large armchair, an old man with bits of blond in the white hair, showing what must have once been. He gazed at them with clear grey eyes, and seemed to twitch. A woman with short dark hair looked up surprised as they walked in, quickly turning back to a row of file cabinets. She seemed to be whispering furiously to herself.
-Do you like it here?- The language he used was the same one as that of the caves, Clark recognized it, even spoken out loud. Or not out loud, whatever.
-It's nice. Very quiet.-
-I prefer it so.-
-What's wrong with her?- Clark inquired gazing curiously at the short woman in the corner.
-She's sending instructions to my other employees. It's safer than phones or any other technology, virtually nothing can intercept her broadcast.-
Clark leaned against the wall by the fire looking at his father's face in the dramatic lighting. Should I say something? I could ask him how long I'm staying here… or maybe I could call my parents. The occupants in the room were peering at them curiously. They're probably as confused as I am.
Jor-El switched to speaking vocally, still pointedly continuing in Kryptonian. "I have a favor to ask of you, Kal."
Clark blinked, surprised. "A favor?"
"I would do it myself, but my presence would be noticed much sooner. And I don't think any of these people could pull it off. You're my son- I have faith in you."
Clark felt apprehensive. "What exactly do you want me to do?"
"Pick up something I need."
Clark was still uneasy. "… steal it?"
"You could put it that way."
Clark looked at him silently, not sure what to say.
"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't that important. It will be easy- I'll just fly you halfway there, and then you can run the rest. Just walk into the building. It's unguarded, but has difficult security systems."
My parents wouldn't like this.
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Clark's feet set on the ground as Jor let go of his shoulder. He was wearing all black, a long sleeved dark shirt and black jeans, boots, and even a dark mask that covered his face and hair. He peered once more at the map in his hand before handing it back.
-Got it.-
-I'll be here when you get back.-
-No problem.-
Clark zipped off at superspeed, confident in his direction. Within seconds he was passing through an urban community, taking the streets, dodging cars effortlessly and going deep into the city. Moving to the roofs, he found his bearings by orienting himself to a large cone-like roof. Turning left he easily jumped the buildings for several blocks and came to a stop. Between two tall, important looking buildings was a squared off, squat one. It had a large fence and the few windows visible were small and currently shuttered closed, hiding a variety for possible things- bars, wire, maybe metal sheets.
Several moments later he walked down casually, opening the front door. Quietly the lock cracked. He walked in, taking a nearby elevator. A scientist in a lab coat saw him coming and slipped around him, running down the hall and disappearing.
Clark leaned casually against the inside of the elevator as the floors dinged away. The rooms had all been cleared and passing through the floor not even attempting to open the doors, sometimes managing to take part of the door frame with him as well as the door. Coming to his destination, he shook himself, sending wood splinters against the white walls. There was a small room. The vault.
The far wall was covered with metal compartments, but the large one in the middle was the one that held his attention. Crunching the front together like a sheet of paper, he reached in and pulled a small electronic chip out in a clear plastic container. He held it up, peering inside.
This isn't right. These people can't even defend themselves…
Face contorting in anger, Clark punched the wall, watching the compartments collapse together and flatten on the floor. The sound of twisting metal echoed through the building, and next turned to the chip, about the crush it between his hands. Thinking of his father, he hesitated.
I don't even know what this is.
Shoulder's slumped, Clark resignedly found a nearby window, and battered through it, disappearing onto the roofs.
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An alarm went off at the institute. The Xmen gathered around a monitor as information scrolled down it.
"Should we go?" Cyclops asked.
"It's too late now. We should still check it out and see if we find anything." Storm said.
She looked closer. "What the hell is that?"