"That wolf just shot fire from his eyes. What kind of freaking wolf
shoots fire from his eyes??" whined Omar, referring to the Blackpaw, who'd
melted the silver bullet heading for him in mid-air. Omar pointed at Clark
with his silver sword. "He's one of them too, for God's sake!"
Willows pistol-whipped Omar. "Snap out of it, soldier. You were trained to fight for Uncle Sam! I don't care if you're off of his land, you fight!"
"Look out!" Omar tackled Willows, pinning her to the ground. The wolf that had been sneaking up on her from behind flew over his target. Omar lifted up his chin, everything happening in slow motion for him, even without super speed. He saw the wolf sailing over his head, striking empty air. Omar raised his right hand – the hand that held the silver sword – and stabbed the wolf, straight through the heart.
The wolf roared in pain and hit the ground face first. He twisted around in agony and finally died, reverting back to his once human form at long last.
"I did it!" murmured Omar.
"Snap out of it, private! There's still fifty to go!" announced Willows. She got up and rushed off to fight another wolf, but turned back and winked at Omar at the last moment. "Thanks, O'."
"Yeah, there's nothing like a femme with authority," smirked Omar. He turned to kick some more werewolf ass.
Meanwhile, Lionel was carefully lining up his shots, and had killed three wolves by the time he bumped into Tom. Tom wielded a crossbow loaded with silver arrows. They nodded at each other and whirled around, facing the direction that the other had been previously facing and fired. Both arrow and bullet found their marks.
The scene was set. Two clans, one led by Ellem, and one led by Moonfur, plus the group of troops and Clark and Lionel – were all facing each other smack dab in the middle of the town that was guarded by massive gates, that were, for the moment, trapping them. The middle of the town was a round slab of cement about half of a kilometer in diameter, dotted with various planted trees.
Clark was literally running around howling, clutching his head – trying to fight the instinct that urged him to kill and the conscience that told him to aid his friends.
In his stumbling, he bumped into Ellem, who had been trying to stay on the outside of the fight, holding a silver-ammunition-loaded revolver. Ellem smiled and turned to face Clark, gun in hand.
He fired.
Seeing the bullet heading for him, Clark super sped out of the way and behind Ellem. With a "gentle tap", he knocked out Ellem.
For a moment, wolves from Ellem's clan froze, sensing their fallen leader. Two more wolves fell – one killed by a rival clan wolf, and the other by Robinson. Moonfur, enraged that mankind was winning overall, bellowed an incomprehensive howl that was only understood by canines: "A truce! Take down the humans!"
Every wolf stopped their battles and moved at an incredible speed in circles. One by one, the troops found themselves being pushed back into a circle. They were trapped – surrounded – and most certainly dead meat.
Fortunately, the nearby boy of steel came to his sense despite his furry appearance. He ran and leapt into the middle of the circle, picked up Willows, and jumped back over the circle, gently setting her down in a nearby alley.
He repeated the same process for all the other troops, occasionally firing a beam of heat vision to distract the wolves and completed the task of rescuing them in just under five seconds.
Clark walked out to center of the town, where the wolves eyed him hungrily; angered that he had prevented them from executing the pitiful humans. Clark flashed his claws and his fangs, and then gave a roar that could be heard for miles.
Roughly, it meant: "Bring it on!"
Blackpaw attacked first. He charged Clark, lifting him off of the ground and slamming him into a tree. Clark mentally cursed himself. When Edward had bitten him, he'd had the freedom of switching between "wolf man" and wolf, and now he was a hulk with the ability to stand on his hind legs and retain most of his powers. Sure, it made him powerful, but he was nowhere near as nimble or agile as he had been when he was the smaller "wolf man".
Clark shook off the daze and yanked the tree off of its roots. Using it like a baseball bat, he swung it at Blackpaw, knocking him far away – perhaps even a mile. Clark smiled. It was a useful technique he would have to remember to use in the future. Now he'd deal with the others.
This time, a wolf from Ellem's clan stepped up to fight. He strategically moved around Clark, forcing our alien teenager to turn his back to the rest of the wolves. Bad move.
All at once, they leapt at him, clawing and chewing at his flesh. Clark thought he would pass out from the pain, but he regained his focus. Summoning all his concentration, Clark stood up on his feet in a flash, knocking most of his opponents off of him.
"Smallville!" called Willows from not far away. What was she doing here? She could get hurt! Willows did not seem to care for her safety. In her right hand was a silver-bladed dagger. She threw it for Clark ("Smallville") to catch.
It landed neatly in his hand and he prepared to stab all of the wolves to death when something stopped him. One wolf looked at him – their eyes meeting for the first time. It wasn't love or anything like that, but Clark felt a certain compassion for the wolf. After all, underneath all the fur and the magical aura he'd seen earlier was a human. Human – no – all life was sacred. This battle would have to find a peaceful resolution.
Clark dropped the dagger.
"Smallville! Clark! What are you doing??" yelled Willows, marking him as insane. "Kill the b – "
Clark stopped listening. He didn't want this.
Lionel did.
In what witnesses could only describe as a blur, Lionel sprung out from his hiding place in the alley and ran up beside Willow, pulled the pin off of a grenade and threw it at the "wolf pile". Thousand of tiny pieces of shrapnel – silver shrapnel – were spread all over them, cutting them.
Half of the wolves within the radius of the shrapnel explosion died instantly.
Clark was not one of them, managing to super speed away at the last moment. He watched in horror as several of the wolves writhed in pain and lost their aura, converting back to humans for the last seconds of their lives. Had they asked for this lifestyle? How many were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time when they received the curse?
Wolves from both clans attended to the dying, working together to see what could be done, carefully removing the shrapnel. It was a small token of consolation for Clark to see the rival clans working together at last. But Lionel would have hell to pay.
He turned to approach the troops and Lionel when the crack of dawn began. Rays of sunlight bathed the countryside and soon, the town as well. Clark felt an immense pain in his chest and the primal instinct to rip off his fur.
He did so, stripping every last hair, and buried it. Once the werewolf skin was buried, his senses returned and he immediately felt embarrassment for his nudity.
Omar brought over some clothes. The wolves had retreated into the woods, taking as many of the dead as they could with them. They wouldn't notice until later that Ellem had disappeared long before the battle had ended.
"Cheesy ending," muttered Omar. "Humans win, but the wolves get over their differences and start working together."
Derrick, Tom, and Robinson all glared and told him in unison, "Shut up."
Willows looked at Lionel, "Is it over?"
Lionel shook his head. "I suspect that the people here will continue to have wolf problems. But we should be fine."
"Got some loose ends, don't we?" noted Robinson, pointing at Clark.
"I need Wolfsbane – that will cure me," explained Clark.
Tom spoke, "I don't think that will be necessary. Step back, guys."
Everyone moved a few yards away and watched as Tom dug up the hole that Clark made where he'd buried the wolf skin. He took out a grenade, pulled the pin, dropped the bomb, and ran like hell. Moments later, the grenade exploded, burning the skin.
"Fantastic, now we're minus one werewolf. Can anyone explain to me why we're still here?" asked Omar, annoying as ever.
"We still have to get that Wolfsbane for the folks in Smallville. Apparently, the only Wolfsbane for free is over in Scotland," reminded Derrick.
"Then that's our destination," announced Lionel.
A few of the townspeople were waking up (or sobering up) and walked outside. Most of their jaws dropped as they saw the destruction caused by the battle. One man threw his hands in the air and told his wife, "That's it! We're moving!"
Max the security guard walked over to them, marking the first time he'd left his security outpost in days. He shook his head and walked right up to Lionel Luthor. "Jesus Christ, what the hell did you do here?? Drop a bomb? Is that what all the explosions have been about? What am I going to tell the mayor?"
Clark raised his eyebrows. "You guys have a mayor?
It was a few hours before they were off the hook but finally, around noon, Lionel and Clark, followed by Willows and her troops, walked calmly down the steps of the mayor's home equipped with a GPS device.
"Sure was a nice guy," retorted Omar sarcastically. "But seriously, did you guys try the cookies his wife made? They made this whole wolf war almost worth it! Mmm... never thought I'd appreciate macadamia nuts this much!"
"Somebody shut him up," grumbled Willows. Tom took out his uneaten cookie and shoved it into Omar's hands. It was a bad idea; Omar kept rambling even more about the damn cookie.
Clark gazed silently at the road ahead of him that led back to the central part of the town. Lionel noted that he hadn't said much. Deep inside, Clark didn't know how to feel about his best friend's father. Lionel Luthor was always portrayed as a monster, but how much did he really know about him?
Indeed, his earlier encounters with Lionel were during his blindness period. But later in the year, Clark saw him for who he was – a potentially obsessed madman. He'd fashioned his own kryptonite key and had intended to insert it into the keyhole in the Kawatche cave wall. With each act like that, he was one step closer to discovering Clark's secret.
How much did Lionel suspect about Clark? Was Lionel having him spied on? Could he have gotten one of his friends to betray him?
"Troubled, Clark?"
Yes, Clark was troubled. Dangers were now behind him, though not forever. Now was as good a time as any to reflect on his problems. But... but anytime after Clark would face a challenge, his mother would always give him a cookie and tell him to relax. Even teenage heroes (that's what Mom called him) needed to rest. Clark had had his cookie. Now it was time to relax.
"No, Mr. Luthor, I'm fine," murmured Clark, barely audible.
"Well I hope we've been through enough for you to call me Lionel. It's not that much trouble, is it?" chuckled Lionel.
Clark didn't answer. Willows interrupted their brief exchange.
"Guys, come here. Everyone." Everyone gathered around Willows and glimpsed at the screen of her GPS device. She was pointing at an area of the woods. "Okay, we left the helicopter somewhere around here. But – oh God, this is so embarrassing. We can't remember where we parked a helicopter! Honestly, why didn't we bring the GPS we had onboard?"
"Must have been the rush. Go on," urged Lionel.
Willows sighed, still red in the face, "Um... right, the signal that's constantly sent from the helicopter is coming from over here, on Wayne property."
"Wayne stole our helicopter? He stole government property!" said Omar, alarmed.
"Yeah, well, we'll ask him about it."
They arrived at the gates within fifteen minutes. Max was waiting for them with a military jeep. He smiled and tossed the keys to Willows. "Mayor phoned ahead. He said to let you yanks borrow this."
Omar grinned, "Well, he can't be all that bad."
They all squeezed into the jeep and were silent for most of the trip to the Wayne facility with an occasional dirty comment from Omar ("Hey, Sarge! Is it pink? Do you wear pink und – " SLAP!). When they arrived, Willows stormed to the receptionist's desk prepared to claim ownership for the helicopter, but the receptionist smiled before she got a chance to speak and informed them which hangar the chopper was in. "Ms. Burns called Lucius Fox and informed him of the predicament you folks were in. Of course, he was happy to help American soldiers and arranged for the helicopter to be transported and refueled."
"Wait, the Wayne dude didn't get the thing moved?" asked Omar rather stupidly. "Who's this Fox guy?"
The receptionist was annoyed. "Mr. Wayne is much to busy with his... well, never mind what he does. Lucius Fox currently runs Wayne Enterprises, a mutual agreement with the Wayne family."
Omar rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You know, Wayne's supposed to be rich and all, but his picture has never made front-page news. I don't even know how old he is."
They began to move towards the hangar, but Lionel stayed behind, grabbing Clark's collar and keeping him behind too. "Excuse me, miss, I was wondering if it were possible to arrange transportation for this young man to the nearest airport? He needs to get on a flight back to Kansas."
The receptionist blinked, "He's not...? Um, our own jets could probably take him. I would have to clear it with some folks..."
"No, I just need him to be taken to an airport. I'll pay for his flight. The last thing I need is more hassles."
"I suppose that's reasonable. Fine, I'll call someone to come pick him up and take him. The international airfield is only a couple of miles away. Wait over there, young man."
Clark walked over to a bench and sat there, not meeting Lionel's eye. Lionel walked uncomfortably in the other direction to follow the troops, with a nagging feeling that he'd offended Clark in some way. He dismissed it ultimately, however.
When Lionel was gone and the receptionist looked back down at her computer screen, Clark smirked and disappeared from the office in a super blur.
Willows pistol-whipped Omar. "Snap out of it, soldier. You were trained to fight for Uncle Sam! I don't care if you're off of his land, you fight!"
"Look out!" Omar tackled Willows, pinning her to the ground. The wolf that had been sneaking up on her from behind flew over his target. Omar lifted up his chin, everything happening in slow motion for him, even without super speed. He saw the wolf sailing over his head, striking empty air. Omar raised his right hand – the hand that held the silver sword – and stabbed the wolf, straight through the heart.
The wolf roared in pain and hit the ground face first. He twisted around in agony and finally died, reverting back to his once human form at long last.
"I did it!" murmured Omar.
"Snap out of it, private! There's still fifty to go!" announced Willows. She got up and rushed off to fight another wolf, but turned back and winked at Omar at the last moment. "Thanks, O'."
"Yeah, there's nothing like a femme with authority," smirked Omar. He turned to kick some more werewolf ass.
Meanwhile, Lionel was carefully lining up his shots, and had killed three wolves by the time he bumped into Tom. Tom wielded a crossbow loaded with silver arrows. They nodded at each other and whirled around, facing the direction that the other had been previously facing and fired. Both arrow and bullet found their marks.
The scene was set. Two clans, one led by Ellem, and one led by Moonfur, plus the group of troops and Clark and Lionel – were all facing each other smack dab in the middle of the town that was guarded by massive gates, that were, for the moment, trapping them. The middle of the town was a round slab of cement about half of a kilometer in diameter, dotted with various planted trees.
Clark was literally running around howling, clutching his head – trying to fight the instinct that urged him to kill and the conscience that told him to aid his friends.
In his stumbling, he bumped into Ellem, who had been trying to stay on the outside of the fight, holding a silver-ammunition-loaded revolver. Ellem smiled and turned to face Clark, gun in hand.
He fired.
Seeing the bullet heading for him, Clark super sped out of the way and behind Ellem. With a "gentle tap", he knocked out Ellem.
For a moment, wolves from Ellem's clan froze, sensing their fallen leader. Two more wolves fell – one killed by a rival clan wolf, and the other by Robinson. Moonfur, enraged that mankind was winning overall, bellowed an incomprehensive howl that was only understood by canines: "A truce! Take down the humans!"
Every wolf stopped their battles and moved at an incredible speed in circles. One by one, the troops found themselves being pushed back into a circle. They were trapped – surrounded – and most certainly dead meat.
Fortunately, the nearby boy of steel came to his sense despite his furry appearance. He ran and leapt into the middle of the circle, picked up Willows, and jumped back over the circle, gently setting her down in a nearby alley.
He repeated the same process for all the other troops, occasionally firing a beam of heat vision to distract the wolves and completed the task of rescuing them in just under five seconds.
Clark walked out to center of the town, where the wolves eyed him hungrily; angered that he had prevented them from executing the pitiful humans. Clark flashed his claws and his fangs, and then gave a roar that could be heard for miles.
Roughly, it meant: "Bring it on!"
Blackpaw attacked first. He charged Clark, lifting him off of the ground and slamming him into a tree. Clark mentally cursed himself. When Edward had bitten him, he'd had the freedom of switching between "wolf man" and wolf, and now he was a hulk with the ability to stand on his hind legs and retain most of his powers. Sure, it made him powerful, but he was nowhere near as nimble or agile as he had been when he was the smaller "wolf man".
Clark shook off the daze and yanked the tree off of its roots. Using it like a baseball bat, he swung it at Blackpaw, knocking him far away – perhaps even a mile. Clark smiled. It was a useful technique he would have to remember to use in the future. Now he'd deal with the others.
This time, a wolf from Ellem's clan stepped up to fight. He strategically moved around Clark, forcing our alien teenager to turn his back to the rest of the wolves. Bad move.
All at once, they leapt at him, clawing and chewing at his flesh. Clark thought he would pass out from the pain, but he regained his focus. Summoning all his concentration, Clark stood up on his feet in a flash, knocking most of his opponents off of him.
"Smallville!" called Willows from not far away. What was she doing here? She could get hurt! Willows did not seem to care for her safety. In her right hand was a silver-bladed dagger. She threw it for Clark ("Smallville") to catch.
It landed neatly in his hand and he prepared to stab all of the wolves to death when something stopped him. One wolf looked at him – their eyes meeting for the first time. It wasn't love or anything like that, but Clark felt a certain compassion for the wolf. After all, underneath all the fur and the magical aura he'd seen earlier was a human. Human – no – all life was sacred. This battle would have to find a peaceful resolution.
Clark dropped the dagger.
"Smallville! Clark! What are you doing??" yelled Willows, marking him as insane. "Kill the b – "
Clark stopped listening. He didn't want this.
Lionel did.
In what witnesses could only describe as a blur, Lionel sprung out from his hiding place in the alley and ran up beside Willow, pulled the pin off of a grenade and threw it at the "wolf pile". Thousand of tiny pieces of shrapnel – silver shrapnel – were spread all over them, cutting them.
Half of the wolves within the radius of the shrapnel explosion died instantly.
Clark was not one of them, managing to super speed away at the last moment. He watched in horror as several of the wolves writhed in pain and lost their aura, converting back to humans for the last seconds of their lives. Had they asked for this lifestyle? How many were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time when they received the curse?
Wolves from both clans attended to the dying, working together to see what could be done, carefully removing the shrapnel. It was a small token of consolation for Clark to see the rival clans working together at last. But Lionel would have hell to pay.
He turned to approach the troops and Lionel when the crack of dawn began. Rays of sunlight bathed the countryside and soon, the town as well. Clark felt an immense pain in his chest and the primal instinct to rip off his fur.
He did so, stripping every last hair, and buried it. Once the werewolf skin was buried, his senses returned and he immediately felt embarrassment for his nudity.
Omar brought over some clothes. The wolves had retreated into the woods, taking as many of the dead as they could with them. They wouldn't notice until later that Ellem had disappeared long before the battle had ended.
"Cheesy ending," muttered Omar. "Humans win, but the wolves get over their differences and start working together."
Derrick, Tom, and Robinson all glared and told him in unison, "Shut up."
Willows looked at Lionel, "Is it over?"
Lionel shook his head. "I suspect that the people here will continue to have wolf problems. But we should be fine."
"Got some loose ends, don't we?" noted Robinson, pointing at Clark.
"I need Wolfsbane – that will cure me," explained Clark.
Tom spoke, "I don't think that will be necessary. Step back, guys."
Everyone moved a few yards away and watched as Tom dug up the hole that Clark made where he'd buried the wolf skin. He took out a grenade, pulled the pin, dropped the bomb, and ran like hell. Moments later, the grenade exploded, burning the skin.
"Fantastic, now we're minus one werewolf. Can anyone explain to me why we're still here?" asked Omar, annoying as ever.
"We still have to get that Wolfsbane for the folks in Smallville. Apparently, the only Wolfsbane for free is over in Scotland," reminded Derrick.
"Then that's our destination," announced Lionel.
A few of the townspeople were waking up (or sobering up) and walked outside. Most of their jaws dropped as they saw the destruction caused by the battle. One man threw his hands in the air and told his wife, "That's it! We're moving!"
Max the security guard walked over to them, marking the first time he'd left his security outpost in days. He shook his head and walked right up to Lionel Luthor. "Jesus Christ, what the hell did you do here?? Drop a bomb? Is that what all the explosions have been about? What am I going to tell the mayor?"
Clark raised his eyebrows. "You guys have a mayor?
It was a few hours before they were off the hook but finally, around noon, Lionel and Clark, followed by Willows and her troops, walked calmly down the steps of the mayor's home equipped with a GPS device.
"Sure was a nice guy," retorted Omar sarcastically. "But seriously, did you guys try the cookies his wife made? They made this whole wolf war almost worth it! Mmm... never thought I'd appreciate macadamia nuts this much!"
"Somebody shut him up," grumbled Willows. Tom took out his uneaten cookie and shoved it into Omar's hands. It was a bad idea; Omar kept rambling even more about the damn cookie.
Clark gazed silently at the road ahead of him that led back to the central part of the town. Lionel noted that he hadn't said much. Deep inside, Clark didn't know how to feel about his best friend's father. Lionel Luthor was always portrayed as a monster, but how much did he really know about him?
Indeed, his earlier encounters with Lionel were during his blindness period. But later in the year, Clark saw him for who he was – a potentially obsessed madman. He'd fashioned his own kryptonite key and had intended to insert it into the keyhole in the Kawatche cave wall. With each act like that, he was one step closer to discovering Clark's secret.
How much did Lionel suspect about Clark? Was Lionel having him spied on? Could he have gotten one of his friends to betray him?
"Troubled, Clark?"
Yes, Clark was troubled. Dangers were now behind him, though not forever. Now was as good a time as any to reflect on his problems. But... but anytime after Clark would face a challenge, his mother would always give him a cookie and tell him to relax. Even teenage heroes (that's what Mom called him) needed to rest. Clark had had his cookie. Now it was time to relax.
"No, Mr. Luthor, I'm fine," murmured Clark, barely audible.
"Well I hope we've been through enough for you to call me Lionel. It's not that much trouble, is it?" chuckled Lionel.
Clark didn't answer. Willows interrupted their brief exchange.
"Guys, come here. Everyone." Everyone gathered around Willows and glimpsed at the screen of her GPS device. She was pointing at an area of the woods. "Okay, we left the helicopter somewhere around here. But – oh God, this is so embarrassing. We can't remember where we parked a helicopter! Honestly, why didn't we bring the GPS we had onboard?"
"Must have been the rush. Go on," urged Lionel.
Willows sighed, still red in the face, "Um... right, the signal that's constantly sent from the helicopter is coming from over here, on Wayne property."
"Wayne stole our helicopter? He stole government property!" said Omar, alarmed.
"Yeah, well, we'll ask him about it."
They arrived at the gates within fifteen minutes. Max was waiting for them with a military jeep. He smiled and tossed the keys to Willows. "Mayor phoned ahead. He said to let you yanks borrow this."
Omar grinned, "Well, he can't be all that bad."
They all squeezed into the jeep and were silent for most of the trip to the Wayne facility with an occasional dirty comment from Omar ("Hey, Sarge! Is it pink? Do you wear pink und – " SLAP!). When they arrived, Willows stormed to the receptionist's desk prepared to claim ownership for the helicopter, but the receptionist smiled before she got a chance to speak and informed them which hangar the chopper was in. "Ms. Burns called Lucius Fox and informed him of the predicament you folks were in. Of course, he was happy to help American soldiers and arranged for the helicopter to be transported and refueled."
"Wait, the Wayne dude didn't get the thing moved?" asked Omar rather stupidly. "Who's this Fox guy?"
The receptionist was annoyed. "Mr. Wayne is much to busy with his... well, never mind what he does. Lucius Fox currently runs Wayne Enterprises, a mutual agreement with the Wayne family."
Omar rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You know, Wayne's supposed to be rich and all, but his picture has never made front-page news. I don't even know how old he is."
They began to move towards the hangar, but Lionel stayed behind, grabbing Clark's collar and keeping him behind too. "Excuse me, miss, I was wondering if it were possible to arrange transportation for this young man to the nearest airport? He needs to get on a flight back to Kansas."
The receptionist blinked, "He's not...? Um, our own jets could probably take him. I would have to clear it with some folks..."
"No, I just need him to be taken to an airport. I'll pay for his flight. The last thing I need is more hassles."
"I suppose that's reasonable. Fine, I'll call someone to come pick him up and take him. The international airfield is only a couple of miles away. Wait over there, young man."
Clark walked over to a bench and sat there, not meeting Lionel's eye. Lionel walked uncomfortably in the other direction to follow the troops, with a nagging feeling that he'd offended Clark in some way. He dismissed it ultimately, however.
When Lionel was gone and the receptionist looked back down at her computer screen, Clark smirked and disappeared from the office in a super blur.