Well, sense people liked the Prologue, I guess I'll continue . This is just the ending of the prologue part of the story, so sorry if it ends up being too short for your liking. This will answer everyone's questions. Enjoy.

Prologue- My Blackest Tears

The rain beat relentlessly against the tented windows of the black hearse, the pit-pattering of the droplets a relaxing jingle to the ears of the boy forced by tragedy into manhood. It was as if the heavens themselves wept with Clark. It was only early afternoon, two days after the murder of his parents. The dark, stormy skies painted the earth below in a hue of grey and a flush of dew. The day was eerily similar to the funeral of Whitney's father not too long ago. The storm had forced everyone inside after days of dry humidity.

Several black, white, and grey vehicles moved behind the hearse, following in silent respect. Every now and then Clark would catch a glimpse of a curious kid pressing his or her pale face to the window as the hearse, the insidious grim reaper crept down their streets with the steel frame glimmering like a sickle. Most of the time the child would be shooed back away from the window by a worrying parent, but other times they would stay. The innocence that usually decorated their faces was gone for the passing of death, even their minds comprehending the black cloud that threatened to strike them down if they dare tread outside.

"I'm calling it; 10:32 P.M." The doctor announced with a sigh, setting down the paddles that still itched with electricity. The one hovering over his mother nodded in agreement, and set his down as well.

It was at that moment, ironically, that Clark's tears stopped. Lana's face was buried in his chest, grabbing at it as she choked on her cries. She hadn't seen the wound on his chest seal up quite as well as he thought she had, and she accepted (clearly distracted with the events at hand) that it just stung a little and didn't need to be checked out. Heartlessly, Clark pulled himself away from the clutch of the mascara ridden Lana.

"Clark? Where are you going?" She asked, her voice showing no sign of being phased by his action.

He didn't answer her however, making his way down the hall and out of the hospital in somber quiet.

The memory replayed itself in his head for the umpteenth time like a broken record. He was snapped out of his daze as his door opened up, an ebony figure waiting for him outside the door. Pete. Poor Pete who could barely talk when Lana phoned him and informed him of what happened. He had known Clark his entire life, and had considered the Kents his second family. Pete said nothing as Clark lifted himself from the black leather of the hearse, respecting his silence.

Moments later the pallbearers had been assembled and were lugging the great oak coffins to the shallow graves. Clark had a hand on either coffin, though no one made a fuss about it. Lex Luthor and a handful of Johnathon Kent's close friends he had met during his years as a farmer carried Clark's father. Pete, Martha's father, and a couple relatives from his mother's side Clark hadn't spoken to in years carried Martha. Each blade of grass that sloshed under their feet seemed to be mourning with them.

The coffins slid without fuss onto the mechanism that would lower them later. Clark scanned for a brief moment the attendees of the service. None of them really mattered, most here so they wouldn't feel guilty about not coming later. However, the sight of Chloe and Lana in black gowns and clutching umbrellas was the only thing to catch his eye. Lana offered him a look of comfort, which he only barely acknowledged before staring back down at the duel coffins before him. The preacher's speech was as meaningless to Clark as most of this was.

"We are here to mourn the loss of.........were a great influence on the community......made clothes for those who.........provided us all with.....and we shall....and they.......never be forgotten."

Jumbled words, mixed sentences. He just wanted to be alone with them, to wrap his arms around them one last time. That wouldn't happen, he knew. The realization of which had made his heart start to beat in a numb rhythm. Throughout the entire ceremony and the lowering of the coffins, Clark stood like a statue; unwavering. Black locks of hair from his lowered head had hidden his eyes. He dropped a white rose into his father's grave and a soft ruby one into his mother's, representing the tears he wish he could shed.

As the people finally cleared, each gave Clark one comforting wish or another and with a silent vow, Clark turned to the road a couple yards off.

"Clark!" Came a voice he knew he'd miss.

His head craned back to glance at the few who had stayed behind. Lex nodded at Clark one last time before entering a limo that slowly carried him away. Lana, the one who had called after him, and Chloe eyed him with concern. Pete, knowing Clark as well as he did, only smiled weakly at him.

"Where are you going to now?" This time it was Chloe who chimed in.

The mysterious, murderous man got out of the black vehicle. For a brief, and what Clark considered useless at the time, moment Clark glanced at the license plate. It read "High Lane" and below it "Best Cars in Mtrpls."

"Back to Metropolis."

-End Prologue