Issue #3 – The World's Finest
Sometimes Conner wondered if he actually was stupid. It sure felt that way sometimes, and he wondered if he could blame it on the cloning process. Maybe some scientist accidentally dumped alcohol into the test tube he had grown in. Or maybe they messed up on cloning Superman's brain cells. Or maybe they did their job too well; Superman wasn't known as the brightest member of the Justice League. Conner sighed. Only half of him was Superman, the Boy Scout in blue, though. The other half was Supe's arch nemesis, Lex Luthor. Conner had only recently found this out, and he was taking it the best he could. Which is to say, he wasn't taking it very well at all. It was like…well, it was exactly how it seemed. It was like trying to live up to Superman your whole life only to find out that you could become just as diabolical as Lex Luthor. Sometimes Conner thought he would give anything not to be like Superman. He really meant it, though, when he said he would give anything not to be like Lex Luthor.
Actually, there was one thing about Lex Luthor Conner would not mind having—the genius intellect. He wasn't that lucky. He knew he would probably end up with the male pattern baldness and the psychotic god complex, but he couldn't have the one good thing about Luthor. And being Superboy…for some reason, the red S on his chest was like wearing a dunce hat.
Being around Tim made him feel even dumber. It wasn't because Tim talked down to him, although he did, but rather Conner always seemed to know exactly the wrong thing to say around Tim.
While Conner, Tim, and the Kents were eating dinner, Jonathan had made the comment that he had Tim's identity narrowed down to either Robin or Wonder Girl. Conner was horrified. He remembered how sensitive Tim had been that morning over the secret identity, and he glanced at Tim, unsure what to do.
Tim kept his composure, just like always. Then he said, "Well, I guess if Conner didn't tell you I'm Wonder Girl, then I bet he didn't tell you we're going out either."
Conner choked on his spoon. He coughed and managed to get it into his plate just as Martha and Jonathan descended upon him like vultures. They bombarded him with questions about his 'girlfriend' and why he hadn't told them, and even with all his Kryptonian might and Luthorian DNA, all he could do was sit there and blush while Tim snickered between bites of mashed potatoes.
Conner considered using his powers to toss the table into the air and dumping those potatoes in Tim's lap, but he was pretty sure Martha would scold him for it. Conner had trouble imagining Superman going through things like this, and he knew Luthor wouldn't stand for it.
Eventually the Kents saw Conner had enough torture, and the four of them started clearing the table. Tim was carrying the pot of mashed potatoes to the refrigerator when Conner grabbed him by the shoulder. "What was up with you mentioning Cassie? You know I'm going to kill you, right?"
Tim shrugged. "You should have told them yourself. The Kents are nice people. You should try talking to them more."
"Oh, and I take it you tell your dad everything?"
Tim immediately shut up, but not in the way Conner had wanted. As soon as it came out, Conner knew he shouldn't have said it. Tim was a master stoic, but lying to his father was the crack in his armor. Tim hid it well, but anybody, even Conner, could tell how much the subject bothered him. Tim didn't say anything for the next hour or so, and it took that whole time for Conner to work up the courage to say he was sorry.
Tim just shrugged like it hadn't bothered him. "It's all right. I'm sorry I told the Kents about Wonder Girl."
Conner chuckled. "I would have done the same thing to you." He messed up Tim's hair, and even though he tried, Tim couldn't hide his small smile as he smoothed his hair back down.
After that, the rest of the night went pretty well. They tried to find something on television, but the only thing they found was that neither of them was interested in sitcoms or reality TV. "Fear Factor is kind of tame after Brother Blood," Conner commented.
Tim agreed, disappeared into the bedroom for a moment and came back with his laptop. He sat down in the floor, and Conner asked. "What are you doing?"
"I'm checking my email," Tim said as he turned the computer on.
Conner smiled and sat up on the couch for a better view. This was going to be interesting. Tim's fingers flew over the keys, and he clicked his portable mouse, but all he got was frustration. He messed with it for ten minutes before closing the computer and setting it to the side. "I don't get it," he said, resting his chin in his hand, "nothing I tried would get it to connect to the Internet. We have special Bat-DSL too. It should work."
Conner laughed. "Tim, my friend, this house has a special shield around it to keep all satellite and other forms of technology from working."
"Really?" Tim asked, curious about where Superman would get this technology.
"Yeah. It's called Smallville, Kansas. Nothing like that works here. Truth is, they just installed the phone lines last week."
"You're funny," Tim muttered, and he slid his computer across floor.
Martha and Jonathan had been playing cards in the kitchen, but as the computer stopped against the couch, they came to the den. They said they were heading to bed, and Martha suggested the boys call it a night too.
Conner rolled his eyes. She always suggested that, and he always rolled his eyes and told them to have a good night.
Tim, however, agreed.
Conner stared at him for a moment, wondering if Tim was joking. It was hard to tell because Tim always sounded serious, but he kept insisting they go to bed because they needed to get a start on a new day. Finally, he dragged Conner into the bedroom as the Kents called after them to have a good night.
"What's gotten into you, Tim?" Conner asked as he shut the door. "I thought you were a night person."
Tim blinked at him. "I am a night person. To me, getting to bed before three on a school night is early. You can be really dense sometimes."
"What do you mean?"
Conner could see Tim's patience thinning. "We're sneaking out."
"Oh," Conner said. Suddenly he realized what was going on, and he chuckled. "Oh, I get it now."
Tim almost sighed, and he said, "We just need to wait for the Kents to go to sleep."
Conner nodded. "All right. I guess you would be an expert at this breaking curfew and sneaking out thing, huh?"
Tim bit his lip. "Something like that." He said it quietly. Even for Tim.
He sounded exactly how he had after dinner, Conner sighed, swearing at himself under his breath. If Tim was great at making him mad while staying calm, then he was every bit as good at making Tim feel like dirt without meaning to. He cursed himself some more and wished he would learn to think before opening his fat mouth.
"So do you have anything to do in here to keep us occupied for the next hour?" Tim asked, pretending nothing had happened.
"Sure." Conner reached for his nightstand, but suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his head. The headache was back. He shrugged it off, though, and he reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled out a deck of playing cards. "The Kents are old people so these are all over the house."
He tossed the cards to Tim, but he put his hand over his stomach. Not only was the headache back, but he felt a little nauseous too. So while they played poker, Tim sat on the foot of the bed while Conner lay down. They played five games, and somehow Tim lost all of them. When they played in Titans Tower, Tim was usually the best player so after he lost a sixth game, he set his cards down and asked, "Did you get X-ray vision or are you just cheating?"
"Uh, no…. Bart and I have just been practicing…" Conner looked away innocently, covering his mouth as he coughed, but he pointed behind Tim.
Tim looked over his shoulder, and then he hung his head when he saw the huge mirror on Conner's closet door.
"Way to be the 'world's second greatest detective,' Timmy. Very observant."
"That's it. You're done for." Tim grabbed the deck of cards off the bed, back flipped to the floor, and landed poised for battle. He pulled his arm back, and he started flinging cards at Conner, rapidly, one after another. They struck Conner in the face, arms, chest, and kneecaps. And then the face again just because Tim could. They didn't hurt Conner, but Tim had flicked them hard enough to leave brief red marks on his skin. Tim smirked.
"Hey, two can play that game." Conner picked up a card, took aim, and pulled his arm back. When he threw it, it dove straight into his floor, a whole yard from Tim's feet. Conner just looked at it, like a fat child who has dropped his ice cream cone. "That sucks."
Tim laughed. "Not everything Batman teaches me is useful."
Later…
Sneaking out had been the easy part. While they had waited, Conner kept feeling worse and worse. He thought he hid it well, though, and he still felt well enough to float to the door and pop it open with his telekinesis. He wondered if he should go back and carry Tim, but Tim was already beside him. Conner was impressed. Tim was the first person ever to walk around the Kents' house without the floor creaking. After they were outside, the hard part was finding something to do with their freedom. Smallville had even less to do at night, although swatting mosquitoes had been added to the activities. At first, the boys just walked around and talked, and even joked about fetching their costumes and patrolling Smallville. Eventually, Tim had said, "Okay, Conner, there has to be something to do in this town."
Tim was smart, but he just couldn't understand that a whole town could go to sleep before midnight. Conner sympathized with him. It took him a whole two months to come to terms with that.
"Well, there are two things kids our age do. One of them is drink."
Tim shook is head. "What's the other?"
"Well…"
So twenty minutes later, they were in the middle of a field, crouching behind a bale of hay. The night was quiet, except for the sound of cows' mooing close by. "This is the dumbest thing," Tim muttered.
Conner shrugged. "Come on, Tim. Live a little. And besides, people do this all the time. It has to be some fun, right?"
Tim just shook his head. "It's stupid." The boys stayed low, and they crept over to one of the contently sleeping cows. "So what do we do?" Tim asked, eying the bovine beauty.
"I've never done this before." Conner shrugged. "I suppose we just push it over."
Tim rolled his eyes, but he braced his hands on the cow's side. Conner did the same. "On the count of three, okay? One. Two. Three!" Tim shoved, and Conner just kind of poked, and the cow fell to the ground with a loud thud. The cow cussed and swore as loudly as it could moo.
The boys got clear, then watched the cow for a moment. Conner was still watching it try to get up when he felt Tim's eyes drilling a hole into his neck. Conner turned to him, and Tim's eyes were wooden, staring into Conner as hard as they could.
Tim shook his head, disapprovingly.
"Alright alright! I don't see what people get out of it either. I just thought it'd be something worth trying. Sheesh!"
Suddenly, they heard a screen door slam followed by more swearing. Only this swearing was in human English. "I knew it! I knew there was someone out here! You damn kids! You damn kids leave mah' cows alone!"
"Oh crap," Conner muttered. "It's farmer Jed!"
"Get down!" Tim hissed, and he shoved Conner to the ground
Conner's face hit the dirt hard, and he gagged. His nose was inches away from a pile of cow dung. He eyed it in horror. "Oh, that's gross."
"Trust me. It could be worse."
"Oh, I know you're out here!" Jed called. "And I'm going to get you this time." They saw him step off his back porch, and they could also see he had something in his hand.
"That's a shotgun," Conner said. "That's it, we're getting out of here." He grabbed Tim by the wrist, and they shot into the sky.
Jed watched them streak into the heavens in amazement. He rubbed his eyes and blinked. He looked back at his house, and then he looked back at the clear night sky. Suddenly, a smile crept across his face. "I knew it! I knew it! The aliens were here last night! And they came back to push over mah' cows!"
Several fields away, Conner set them down in the Kents' backyard. He fell to the ground, and wiped his brow. "That was close."
Tim shrugged, acting cool, and sat down beside him. "We've had closer," he said calmly.
Conner eyed him. Tim sounded composed, like nothing had happened, but Conner could hear Tim's heart beating a mile a minute. They just looked at each other for a moment, but suddenly the cracked up laughing. "So we can go up against Deathstroke the Terminator, and all kinds of super-creeps who want to kill us…"
"…yet Superboy and Robin run at the sight of Jed the Farmer and his Bovines of Doom?" Tim finished. He stretched his legs out in front of him. "And they think Batman and Superman are 'The World's Finest.'"
Conner laughed. "Okay, let's look at it this way. Superboy and Robin could have taken Farmer Jed and his whole herd of cows without breaking a sweat. Conner and Tim, however, they lost their heads and ran like scared kids."
"I didn't grab you and bolt off into the sky," Tim protested.
Conner started to say something back, but he stopped. Suddenly he realized that Tim's entire front, his T-shirt to halfway down his jeans, was covered with something thick, green, and stinky.
Tim tried to put on a brave face, but Conner's staring made him sigh. "When I told you to hit the ground, I kind of dove onto some manure."
Conner blinked.
"You can laugh. I know you want to."
"No, I don't. I think it's horrible," Conner giggled.
"Go ahead. Get it over with."
Conner couldn't take it anymore, and he literally fell over laughing. He rolled over the ground, across the dirt and grass, and laughed until his sides felt like they would bleed. "I guess at least one bird knows what it's like to get crapped on. Ha ha!" Conner clutched his sides.
Five minutes later, an annoyed Tim asked, "Can I go clean up?"
"Hang on," Conner gasped. "I guess we can go. I bet you're pooped." And then he laughed for three more minutes. "Okay. Now we can go in. For real. Heh."
They went back to the house, and after Tim had cleaned up, they went back to Conner's room to try really going to sleep. As soon as they both lay down, though, Conner's headache came back. He started coughing too, and he sounded like he was coming down with a cold. He felt awful all over, but the worst part was that Tim kept bugging him, asking him if there was anything he could do for Conner. Finally Conner snapped at him to shut up and go to sleep.
One of the reasons Conner hated going to bed was that it took him forever to fall asleep. However, he suddenly felt strangely drained. He fell asleep rather quickly despite his own sniffling and coughing.
He felt like he had barely been asleep when suddenly his eyes snapped open. He glanced at the clock and saw it was getting early, and then he looked down to see if Tim had woken him up.
Tim's sleeping bag was empty.
Conner sat up in bed, and he listened, thinking he could pick up the sounds of Tim in the bathroom. The house was completely still, but when he sat up though, something caught the corner of his eye. Out the window, Conner could see Tim silhouetted in the moonlight, in the Kents' backyard, toiling over something.
It looked like he was digging.
After several minutes, Tim started walking back to the house, and Conner threw himself back under the covers to pretend being asleep. Tim came into the room, crawled into his sleeping bag, and lay there like nothing had happened.
Conner listened to Tim's heartbeat, waiting for it to slow down. When it did, he quietly lifted himself from the covers and floated over to the door. He went outside to where he had seen Tim digging. The dirt was soft, and Conner plunged his hands into the earth to find out what was there.
Conner noticed that when he woke up, he had felt better. But when he approached the spot where Tim had been digging, his headache came back. When he kneeled down and started digging, it just got worse. The further he dug, the worse he felt. Each handful of dirt he scooped out seemed to get heavier, and heavier, and his stomach felt like it had been turned inside out. Finally, his hands found a solid object, and with cold sweat dripping down his face, Conner's shaky hands pulled it from the dirt.
He saw what it was, and he felt like the stupidest person on the planet. And he suddenly felt worse than he ever had in his life.
Shining green in the moonlight, in the palm of Conner Kent's hands, was a fist-sized chunk of Kryptonite.
"Conner," Tim said from behind him. "Let me explain."