President Lex Luthor sat back in his very comfortable, very expensive chair, looking amused. This young (21? 22?) child had been able to sneak into the Oval Office of the White House, with Batman. Actually it looked like he had just appeared. This boy had proceeded to lecture him concerning an upcoming galactic battle (yup, it was about two years since the last big thing, they were due), and was telling him what to do. Luthor was not one to be lectured by anyone about anything. If it had been anybody else, Luthor would have killed him.

However, Luthor did have spies in useful places. He was the president, after all. And his spies told him that there was a large battle coming up, dealing with cross over realities. And they told him of something else. Of someone, from what could best be described as a higher level of existence, and extremely powerful, to lead the armies of "good" against the armies of "evil." Extremely powerful. But Luthor had dealt with powerful enemies before, and persevered. Surely he could deal with a child such as this one. If anyone was going to lead this army, it would be Luthor. Especially since he wouldn't have that Primary Colored Prima Donna and his Black Garbed Edgar Allan Poe Reject friend to stop him.

"Look, Mr. Hendrickson," began Luthor as he stood up. "I appreciate your concern, and the sacrifices you have made, but this is a job that I excel at. I lead people, whether as a corporate head or as a head of state. I understand that you will be going 'underground' for this, and be bringing some of our best heroes. The plan, as you have described it to me sounds exceptional. But I really believe that I should be leading and coordinating the defense of our planet, at least. And I am going to. As President of the United States, that is my job. I am not going to take orders from somebody who did not have powers until a couple of days ago, and who is barely old enough to shave."

Craig smiled at the President, really savoring the moment, staring at the smug man. "Look Luthor, lets get a few things straight. To me, you are nothing more than ink and paper. You are a character from a comic book. A villain, no less. So trying to impress me with your position is not going to help." Luthor's grin faltered. Evidently his spies had not impressed upon him exactly HOW Craig knew of his world.

"That's right. Every dirty deal, every stupid one liner to Superman, everything you have ever done has been catalogued and seen by my people back at home." An exaggeration, but mostly true. "I know exactly what you are, and what you can do. I am also not 100% sure that you are not part of what I am supposed to be fighting. But I don't want to topple governments, and you are pretty smart most of the time, so you won't screw up a lot. Also, I can't wait to get home and see how you screw this up, cause Lex, you always screw up." Luthor started to fume at this, looking to find a way to shut the kid up and to demonstrate his "power."

"Oh Mercy, could you come here for a minute," asked Craig. The bodyguard walked in, wary. Craig pointed at Luthor and asked "Mercy, who is that man?"

Mercy turned and her face was one of incomprehension. She had no idea who Luthor was, despite the fact she had served him faithfully for years. Even Batman was impressed. "I don't know, sir."

"Thank you dear," replied Hendrickson with a smile. "You can go now." Craig waited for her to leave before he continued.

"Don't worry, once she left, she remembered everything. Now I could threaten you with death if you don't do exactly what I tell you to do, but I won't. What I will do is this. I will make everyone, everywhere, forget who you are. I will make your company as if you never existed, and transform it into a charitable institution with no other outside interests. You will have no enemies and no friends. Even the Kryptonian will not know you.

"As for you, I am going to make you a pig farmer in Nebraska. You will be adept at it. And then, I will leave you your memories and your ambitions, but take away the majority of your skills and talents that allowed you to achieve this office. In short, you will remember what it is like to be so powerful, and you will desire to be that powerful again, but you will be without the means to achieve it. I will condemn to an American Nightmare in which you can't achieve your goals of world power, no matter how hard you work. You will be insignificant. I will even take away your nerve so you can't bring yourself to commit suicide. And then I will set it up so you will live for a LONG time.

"I am a kid, Luthor, but one with a job to do. If I screw up, everything goes down. You may do okay in corporate board rooms and against intergalactic tyrants, but you got nothing when it comes to threats like this. You do it my way, or I am sending you to the bench. In Nebraska. Your call." Craig turned and started to head for the door, then stopped and turned. "And Luthor? If you try to make a move once this whole things starts, while I am otherwise occupied, I will get you. I have more senses then you know of, and one will always be directed at you. Oink, oink."

Craig and Batman left the room, but instead of walking into another part of the West Wing, they were "in between," once of the many traveling dimensions. They could have instantly transported to the Batcave, but Craig did not want to goof around with those powers any more than necessary.

"Impressive," said Batman. "But can you back it up?"

"Doesn't matter," replied Hendrickson. "He thinks I can and will. For the first time he has met someone who he perceives to be more ruthless and powerful than he is. He has encountered one or the other, but never both. He'll play nice." With that, the two stepped back into the real world.

Superman sat in the Watchtower. Every so often, Superman drafted a letter to his wife and his parents. After the Doomsday debacle, Superman wanted to ensure that he left something behind to those he cared about most to inform them about how much they meant to him, and why he did what he did. They were kept in a secure location, and upon his death, information regarding these letters would be sent to fellow Leaguers who he could trust, like Diana and Bruce. It would be their responsibility to make sure that these letters got to their necessary recipients. Today, he would write one more letter, in addition to the other two. This one to Pa, because he had been in war. He would understand better than Ma or Lois, because they had never had to deal with anything like this before. And whenever Clark had a problem, he went to him. It had been he who told him to put on the suit. Pa had never steered Clark wrong before, and Superman thought that maybe he would best be able to handle this confession.

Pa-

If you got this letter, I have moved on...probably for good this time since I probably will have been killed in Hell, running interference for a guy named Craig Hendrickson. Its not often that Superman is a diversion for somebody else. But this guy Craig may be the only chance for pulling it out. But he can't do it alone. Therefore, I gotta help out.

Craig is a good man from another reality. In the days and weeks following the battle I am sure that the media will send out all sorts stories about Craig, who will probably disappear after the fight is done. But what the media won't report, which is for the best, is that Craig is from what is known as the original existence, or the Mother existence. This existence, or Craig's earth at least, has no magic, no superpowered heroes or villains, no extraterresrials. But they can "see" into our existence, and every other. They are the reason that we are here: they had to bleed these talents and skills into our world for fear that they would destroy everything unwittingly.

Craig knows, and thus I assume anyone who would care to find out knows, everything about me and our world. Or all the things that matter. He has seen me at my best and at my worst. And I am cowered by that. Scared even. All those people, not only seeing me, but inside of me. I am a little terrified.

I think a lot of that has to deal with the anger and wrath I feel towards the reason I am going to hell with Craig. I told you about how I crossed over to another world to do battle. Well the...entity I fought will be there. Waiting for me. Now I have never truly HATED anything or anyone, ever. Even Doomsday. I wanted to stop him, I was prepared to kill him. But I never hated him, especially as he was without a conscious thought.

But I hate Apocalypse. I hate him with every fiber of my being. He has no respect for life or death, only power, and only his own. And he wants to kill me. I know that. And in hell he will try. And in hell, I will do my best to make sure he dies, and it will probably take everything I have.

But even now, my hatred is not so blinding that I can't see what it is doing to me. I have tunnel vision. Its why I sent Lois away and have not seen you. If I don't get to apologize for that, I want to now. But know that I did it because I feared that if I did not my anger would consume me to such a point that I would do something I would regret.

But my fight is not the only fight that we will have in Hell, not even the most important fight. Craig is going to go after what seems to be the head of this whole mess. By himself. And I think he knows he is going to lose. I think he knows that the best he can hope for is to delay and injure the enemy so that we can turn the tide enough to prevent the plan from being followed through.

He is just some guy who wanted to go to school and eventually live a quiet family life. Now he has powers of immense magnitude. And it won't matter because he is going to die anyway. I know that I went through something similar. But at least I was not denied a life or the chance of one. This kid has just started his opportunity. But he is going to give it up so that others have the shot that he will be denied.

And he is going to die. Die a death that might deny him a heavenly reward. Its not right. He is a good man and he deserves better.

And I am scared, that when he is called to do battle, that there might be a moment where he could be saved by me, or by something I could do, and I won't be there. Cause I will be too focused on Apocalypse, my hate multiplied by my surroundings.

And then I would be damned.

So Pa, if you get this letter, do not share it with Ma or Lois, cause I don't know if they could bear it. And if I do come back, I am going to burn it. But if you do get it, pray for Craig. And for me, that maybe I didn't lose my soul in Hell.

But I promise you this. Whether I die or not, I am going to stop Apocalypse. One way or the other, Apocalypse will not blight any existence ever again. I swear it.

I love you, Pa. I always will. Hopefully I will be on the other side when you get there.

Your son,

Clark

Constantine was back in his flat in London, rummaging through his things. Finally, he gasped when he found the item in question. Pulling out a stone blade, he admired it in the halogen light provided, and then pocketed it in his coat.

Constantine loaded up on three packs of cigs and a new lighter. He moved towards the door and looked back at his apartment and its disorderly state. If he died there would be few who noticed, save Chaz and Zatanna. But maybe, just maybe, if he could pull this off, he wouldn't be such a bloody wanker and a waste. Maybe he would make up for the girl, and Zatarra, and his other multitude of sins.

"$%& it," whispered Constantine. "Lets beat some demon arse."