"Clark!" Jonathan exclaimed, running over to the boy just as he was about to hit the ground and catching him with his arm around his back in fright. "Clark! Clark, answer me son." With his voice trembling in shock, Jonathan fell down to one knee with the weight in his hands, leisurely lowering the fallen teen down to the ground as his eyes stared at the blood that was seeping through the blue flannel shirt. It was two inches from his stomach and about an inch from his chest, so it was right in the middle of the two. It didn't take long for him to realize that he wasn't even conscious though. With his head dangling on the back of his wrist and his eyelids shut gently, he took notice of the fact that his son's face was a white as a ghost and almost a shade of blue and green mixed together.

"Oh god, no. Clark…no, answer me Clark. Answer me!" He bellowed at the top of his lungs, his arms shaking violently as gradually the motionless body hit the ground when the father felt his limbs go numb. He wasn't breathing. His son wasn't breathing. Blood poured out of his stomach while his chest refused to move. He couldn't be gone. All this had happened so soon and so sudden the man didn't even have time to think. There Clark was, his face white and his lips azure while a bullet wound was placed on his abdomen, and his lifeless corpse resting on the floor with an arm around his back. He was…

"No!" Jonathan shouted, water falling down out of his eyes as he cried heavily, bending over and stuffing his head in his son's chest as his loud sobs echoed the barn. In less then a minute the boy he watched grow up in front of his eyes, the boy he had fishing trips with and watched eat lunch of the living room floor when he was a kid went from standing behind him to on the ground unresponsive and not breathing. His last words to him would be that he didn't care about the way he felt or what was going on in his life. Weeping even louder and raspier, the man grabbed the teen's limp hand and held it to his face, tears sliding down his cheeks and his already red and puffy eyes.

"No…Clark, please answer me. Please talk to me." Jonathan cried, running his other hand down Clark's soft, cold cheeks as he closed his eyes tightly when he felt his fingers reach the back of his neck. Two seconds went by in pure, tensed peace while he remained frozen and sat where he was with an inert hand in his palm and his fingers placed on the collar of the motionless adolescent on the ground. He couldn't help the hoarse gasp that escaped his lips when he didn't feel a pulsation though. Burying his face in Clark's unmoving chest once again, he sobbed rowdily while he choked out each cry as if he wasn't in control of his actions.

"I'm sorry son. I'm so, so sorry!" He cried with his hands balled up together and his fingernails about to break through the tough skin as he continued to cry. Time went by with this scene too. His legs were numb and his arms were like a statue as he wailed like never before with his face in his son's chest, getting the shirt he wore wet with his tears and sticky, red liquid on his arms or hands when he went by the stomach, which was spurting with blood. However, an abrupt voice cut him off guard, stopped his crying instantly when it flew into his ears, and made him slowly lift his head up.

"He saw it coming." Turning his neck over slowly and pushing his tears into the back of his eyes, Jonathan saw a man with white hair, glasses and a black suit standing over by the shed entrance but still in the middle of the barn, a sliver gun in his hand and a smile on his face. Anger surged through his veins when he saw him. It wasn't the anger that he felt towards his son less then five minutes ago while he stared at the older male who was chuckling to himself. No, this anger was a fury that made him want to kill the man -- a rage of revenge that took over his body.

"You bastard. You did this to him!" Jonathan yelled, letting go of the limp hand and pulling his arm out from under the boy's back as he ran over to the stranger, his hand in a fist as he lunged it back and threw it right in his face. After he did, the man stumbled back while he held his eye, letting go of the gun and allowing it to fall down to the ground while nearly bumping into the ranch equipment behind him as he straightened his position and smiled once again. It made more ire rush into the angry father's veins and cause him to attack once again, this time grabbing his jacket by the shoulders and swinging him around to knock him into the wall.

"Who the hell are you!?" Jonathan roared in his face, his glasses cracked and titled to the side as he grinned with ferocity and chortled at the vehemence that was running through the younger man's body.

"Morgan Edge. Not that it matters now, does it? And you know, from what I heard, you should be dancing in joy that your son's dead right now. You didn't even care enough to listen about what was going on in his life." Laughing at his own words, Edge threw his head back and cackled when suddenly, Jonathan swung him around yet again and threw him onto the floor a few feet away from him so he could storm up to him while he tried to get away with his hands on the ground. As he did, he glanced behind him a few times, using his palms to move his body and his feet to scoot him across the flooring to get away from the livid father.

"How did you find out?" He queried, still walking up to him when Morgan didn't answer, getting him more mad and causing him to bend down and clutch his black jacket once more to lift him up off the ground.

"How did you find out damn it!?" Jonathan shouted, the water drying on his cheeks but still showing as his expression was now full of anger and vengeance for what he had done to the boy. At first confused, the older man gulped loudly and shrugged before leaning his head to the side and seeing what he actually wanted to know.

"Find out what? That he's a freak? Oh, that's easy Mr. Kent. Your son there had a problem of keeping his weakness a secret." Morgan told him, knowing that he didn't in fact tell him what he wanted to know however, giving him an answer to the question that was burning inside of him. How could he shot his invulnerable son in an instant? With his lips now quivering, the father gulped down the lump in his throat and inhaled shakily as he loosened his grip on the jacket.

"What are you talking about?" Jonathan asked him, feeling Edge take advantage of his shocked state by pulling away from his grasp and taking a small amount of steps back and away from him while through the corner of his eye he could see the deceased cadaver of Clark a few feet away from the both of them. It was still far away enough to where you didn't feel the urge to gag though. His blue flannel shirt was now dark red in the middle of his chest and stomach and his face was now as white as snow with cobalt lips. Either way, it was a sickening sight. Any murder was a sickening sight.

"One of his robberies. A female police officer was wearing a green bracelet. A certain, green bracelet." Morgan informed him, smiling when he saw Jonathan's eyes go wide and his air get stuck in his throat.

"Just imagine how surprised I was when found out that it was the meteor rocks you hicks have scattered all over this place. I couldn't help but ask my self though…why does a man so strong get so weak around a simple green rock? Then I realized…it doesn't matter! As long as it kills him, I'm good." Edge said, chuckling malevolently as he struck the father's last nerve, making him dash towards him and throw him back on the ground so he could punch him in the fact repeatedly.

"You sick man. You killed a seventeen-year-old boy! You killed my son!" Jonathan snarled, hitting him again and forcing him to turn his head over to the other side as suddenly brought his hand up and hastily hit him on the cheek hard, giving him the chance to get away and from his clutch. As he held his left side of his face in ache, Edge scattered over to the other side of the barn and ripped off his now completely broken glasses with a guffaw.

"And proud of it." Morgan's words finally drew Jonathan's last nerve, making him lunged forward and punch him again as the two battled physically in the barn. Meanwhile however, outside was an African American boy, wearing light sapphire shirt and matching jeans as he had his hands stuck deep inside his pockets and his head bowed down to the ground. For him, he had no idea what was going on inside the hangar.

Sighing loudly, Pete blew air through his cheeks as he moved his feet across the dirt road, kicking the grime while the shinning sun beamed down on his back. It was around nine-thirteen in the morning of a beautiful Saturday, a wonderful breeze blowing by as his eyelids wanted to close and let him sleep. It was still summer vacation, so sleeping in was all he wanted to do. But the teen hadn't slept all night with guilt in his stomach because of what he had said to his friend the other night. That was why he was at the Kent farm in the first place. Stopping by the kitchen first, he went to go see if his taller comrade was inside eating breakfast with his parents, but instead he got the boy's mother to tell him that the boy he was looking for was out in the barn with his father.

Rapidly stopping in his tracks when he heard the sound of yelling and fighting though, he darted his eyebrows down and moved bit-by-bit as he grabbed the post to the red barn doorway to see what was going on. "What the-" Pete mumbled, listening closely and realizing that one of the voices was familiar. Sticking his head in to see whom it was, his eyes went wide and a jumble of panic rolled around in his stomach when he saw Jonathan Kent and a stranger literally beating each other up, and it wasn't long until he spotted the lifeless body on the floor across from them.

"Clark!" He whispered against the shouting that was filling his ears, rushing inside and over to the motionless boy who was on the ground, one hand by his side and the other sprawled out. Falling down to his knees, Pete immediately picked up his hand and placed two fingers to his wrist, and his face went almost as white as Clark's when he didn't feel a beat. His friend was actually…dead.

Standing up, he fought back the tears in his throat and eyes by biting his lower lip, and as he turned around, he took pure notice of the fight that the father and older man were doing as he ran over to them in hope to at least stop some of the skirmishing they were doing. "Mr. Kent! Mr. Kent, wha--" Trying to get Jonathan off the white haired man, Pete grabbed his arm that was thrown back and in the air while balled up in a tight fist. Struggling to get him away, the young adult could feel his limbs weak and heavy with shock and fear at the sight he had just seen before him, and as he tried his very best to get the farm man off of the unfamiliar person, he could feel strong tears welling up in his eyes and threatening to fall out.

"Mr. Kent, what's going on?" Pete exclaimed, lastly able to get him away from Edge, who crawled away from him and against the nearest wall. With his hand still around his arm, Pete pulled him back some and kept him from running forward and attacking the older man again as Jonathan heaved breaths of air with his chest going up and down heavily. He stood silent with a face full of anger, and it was clearly visible that water was forming up in his sight. Obviously, he knew about the boy behind him and far away from their view. Yanking away from his grip suddenly, he took a step forward from the lad and shook his head heatedly.

"Pete, stay out of this." Jonathan told him, his eyes locked on Morgan as he sniffed loudly, looking around him for a second before seeing the fallen, silver gun smack in the middle of him and Edge. Both looking up at each other, at the same time they leaped onward and onto the ground, their hands touching each other's skin. However, time showing that Jonathan was the one who grabbed the pistol. And immediately, Morgan ran backwards and against the wall once more in fear since he was the one who now had the weapon.

"Mr. Kent, don't!" Pete tried to talk the father out of it as soon as he brought his arm up in the air with the revolver.

"Pete, you heard me. Stay out of this." Jonathan warned him, gulping back the bulge in his throat as he gazed right into Edge's eyes. Ignoring the terror and panic, all he saw was a sick, twisted man who had killed his only son, making it so his last words to him would be in a fight he would regret for the rest of his life. As Pete stood far behind him and Morgan Edge far in front of him, he started to feel his hand and arm shake brutally, and when it did, the male he was fighting with laughed and shook his head.

"You've never killed a man, have you Kent?" Morgan asked him, hearing nothing but stillness echo in his ears as he chuckled once again when he knew the answer.

"What makes now so different, huh? If you've never murdered someone before, what makes the chances of you doing it now so certain?" He inquired, titling his head to the side, as the man didn't reply right away. While Pete looked at him petrified and worried, he simply stood still, the firearm in his hands shaking more as it was up in the air, and discreetly he placed his finger on the trigger.

"I've lost something I loved because of you." Jonathan informed him, and in a split second, the sound of gunfire filled their ears. "That's how." He simply said, lowering the gun from view so he could watch the old man go wide-eyed and slowly slump to the ground with a bullet wound in his heart. And in silence, Jonathan and Pete stared at the dead body of Morgan Edge.

To be Continued…