PART ONE: Where Are We?
They did not realize they were being watched by two very different people.
One was an ally, the other an enemy.
One wanted to be friends, the other wanted to destroy them.
It all began when this happened.
"Who are you?" Clark Kent demanded angrily. He let go of his red backpack long enough to clench both fists. Clark was 17 years old but he looked 25.
"I would ask the same thing of you, young man," the stranger responded.
The tall dark-haired "young man," clad in a blue T-shirt and red jacket, made a face almost like he was flinching.
"I'm Clark Kent. From Smallville." He thrust a thumb at himself to emphasize the point.
"What a coincidence. So am I." The man had a deep almost booming voice. The voice was laced with annoyance, much like his face. He jabbed a finger at Clark. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, young man. But I'm Clark Kent. And I'm from Smallville." As he spoke insistently, he thumped a fist against his chest.
Clark recognized the Kryptonian symbol on the stranger's chest but he said nothing. Instead, he silently made some cynical observations.
First, this other guy, with his hands on his hips, looked like he was posing for a statue. Second, his dark hair was slicked back like he was Danny or some other greaser in a Smallville High production of "Grease." Or maybe he was supposed to be the Fonz but without the leather jacket.
Frowning deeply so that he winced more than flinched, Clark briefly looked the man up and down, without X-ray vision.
"No one I know in Smallville dresses like that. You've got your red underwear on the outside, don't you? And you've got your yellow belt on over it."
Now it was the stranger who frowned so that it was almost like the two were in a frowning contest.
"Listen, young man, whoever you really are, you must be familiar with Superman."
Eyebrows went up in a look of confusion as Clark shook his head.
"Is that you? Is that what you call yourself?" It was funny. When the guy announced himself that way, it didn't sound like he was bragging.
The slick-haired one laughed a little. "Don't worry, son. Someone else gave me that name."
Sensing no immediate danger, Clark walked around a little and observed his surroundings. It looked like one of those biospheres he'd seen on the news, only instead of skies or trees or desert outside the latticed dome, there was only a glowing white.
Where were they?
The gray floor had white lines like you might see on a basketball court or on an indoor track for running. Where the walls met the lattice there were folded-up seats and some TV monitors. Almost like some kind of sports bar. (Way too fancy, and big, to be Smallville's Wild Coyote bar). The place might be some kind of athletic arena, Clark thought.
Clark's eyes darted. What exactly was the Main Event in this place? As he wondered, he pursed his lower lip.
"Where exactly are we?" Clark mused aloud.
"I'm not sure, son."
"How about just calling me 'Clark?'"
The slick-haired stranger chuckled. "In the interests of being polite….very well, 'Clark.'"
"What were you doing before you got here?"
"Getting ready for an interview with the 'Daily Planet.'"
"So, they have a 'Daily Planet' where you're from." Assuming this wasn't a trick.
"What were you doing before you got here?" Slick asked pointedly.
"Studying for a history exam. And trying to find the Stones of Knowledge."
"Sounds like an interesting story. One I'll have to put aside for now."
Clark looked around some more.
"Clark," Slick said in a kind of warning voice.
Even though Clark had super-hearing, it was only the slightest of noise that alerted him to the presence of another person. At first, Clark whirled around to face the intruder but when he saw him he quickly relaxed. This guy definitely didn't look like a threat.
It wasn't the blue suit or dark glasses. It was the dorky look on his face. There was the even more dorky way that he talked.
"Hey, fellas. Hey," he said with a quick but awkward wave. "I'm Clark Kent. From Kansas?" He said it like he wasn't sure where he was from.
"I'm starting to see a theme emerging here," Clark muttered.
"As am I," Slick said, a little louder.
Slick-Hair Guy did the statue thing again, hands on his hips with a skeptical look and an even more skeptical tone.
"Let me guess, Mr. Kent. You're from Smallville?"
"Right!" New Clark said with great gusto.
"Uh-huh," Slick said, and Clark guessed that was the closest the guy ever got to cynicism.
"How'd you guess?" Nerd-Clark asked with a little laugh in his voice.
"Your parents are Jonathan and Martha Kent?"
"Yes, that's right. Wow. You must be some kind of mind-reader." As he smiled a little, he raised a "rah-rah" fist. "Yes, indeed! Good old Ma and Pa Kent,"
Slick blinked in surprise. "That's what I call my folks, too!"
"My goodness! What a small world!"
"Sure is," Clark said. He guessed the nerdiness was a coping mechanism for this "new Clark." Maybe one he'd been using all his life.
Clark folded his arms over his red jacket and blue T-shirt as he adopted his own skeptical look, which was easy to do.
"'Ma and Pa Kent.' I've never called my parents that. Kind of old-fashioned, don't you think?"
Clark noted a lot of fidgeting and adjusting of the glasses by the new guy.
And when nerdy Suit-Clark grinned, even his grin ws kind of dorky.
"That's me. Good old-fashioned Clark Kent, all the way!" Briefly, he lifted himself on his toes. There was that "rah-rah" fist again.
Statue guy or Slick-guy (Clark could call him either name) gave his own genial grin and an affirmative nod.
"I guess I'm kind of old-fashioned, too. If, by that, you mean upholding truth, justice and the American way."
"I'm sure for that," nerdy suit-guy said.
Once again, Clark adjusted the strap on his red backpack. "I'm for things like that, too. Truth, justice and….other stuff."
Suit-Guy did more of the nervous smile with a little shuffling of the feet. "Great! Glad that's all settled. I'm glad we can all be friends." He pointed from one to the other, Slick-Guy to Clark. "Now obviously you're Superman. And who are you again?"
"Clark Kent," he said casually.
"Oh! Another one besides me. Nice to meet you. Or meet me, as it were."
Slick-Guy folded his arms over his chest. "And I take it you're Superman as well."
Suit-Guy laughed. "Me? Superman? Why would you say that? How could I possibly be Superman?" He gave Clark an innocent look and Clark shot back a more icy look.
"I'm thinking this dorky guy thing you do is just an act."
"What you see is what you get with good old Clark Kent."
"Uh-huh. Right," Clark said. He'd spent enough of his own life acting and hiding. He knew.
Consequently, Clark could tell when Suit-Guy acted offended.
"Wow! You're kind of cynical, aren't you? I don't think I was ever that cynical when I was your age!"
Clark flicked an eyebrow at him but with a grin. "Were you ever my age?"
"Some people say I was born old," Suit Clark said with a laugh.
Clark gave the nerdy one a look. "I hope you don't mind me saying this but you don't seem all that freaked out about all this, the weird situation we're in."
"I was in another room watching you on monitors, listening to a lot of what you had to say."
Slick smiled. "I hope you found it enlightening. We may not be the best television show out there."
"Oh, yes! It was very entertaining and enlightening, Mr. Superman, sir. But I got over the whole 'Where am I? What's going on here?' thing while I was in that other room. I tried to get to you. Then all of a sudden here I was."
"Here you are, friend."
"Thank you for calling me 'friend.'"
"No problem at all. As you say, here we are."
"Here we all are." With a frown that was almost a sneer, Clark looked around. "But what is this place? And why are we here?"
"Some very good questions, Clark. Other-Clark."
"I'd like some answers." Statue Guy shook his head. "It's like an alien invasion, only without mole men."
Clark wrinkled up his face again. "Mole men?" It sounded like something Pete or Chloe would make up as a joke.
"Only these aliens are all pretending to be Clark Kent," Statue Guy went on, like no one else was in the room.
"Oh, I'm no alien," Nerd Clark insisted. "Just a normal red-blooded flesh-and-blood man. Good old perfectly normal Clark Kent."
"Let's hope so," someone said in a mild voice.
Clark turned. It was two more guys in red-and-blue costumes, maybe a little snazzier and a little more shiny than the one statue guy had. And no slicked-back hair, At least not as much.
"Tne more normal, the better," the guy with the mild voice said. His hair was a little slicked back.
The other guy with Mild was much the same except parts of his costume were shiny. Plus, he had a facial expression that suggested he had a lot of cares. Well, Clark though sarcastically, what Superman wouldn't?
The guy with the care-worn face spoke with a sense of urgency.
"Whatever's going on here I can't stay. I've got two teenage sons."
"Super-Sons?" Clark quipped.
Dad-Superman looked a little annoyed. "One has powers, one doesn't. As you can imagine, that makes for a lot of family drama."
"I can imagine." Clark thought about what it would be like to have a non-super-powered sibling. Like Pete, for example, if he was adopted by Clark's mom and dad.
"Where did you fellas come from?" Nerd-Clark asked, once again adjusting his glasses.
"We were in another room watching you and listening to you."
"Then all of a sudden we were here."
"What a coincidence! The same happened to me," the nerdy one said with a little laugh.
"We know," Mild said.
"Yeah, that's really amazing."
Nerd-Suit-Clark gave Clark a look. "You really are cynical."
"A lot of young people are. That's life in the twenty-first century."
Nerd-Clark frowned. "No. It's 1982."
"For me, 1959."
"2037," Dad-Superman insisted.
"1994," Mild-Superman said.
"Apparently we're from different times," Slick said.
"And most likely different worlds," Mild-Superman said. "On my world, I'm engaged to Lois."
Clark made a face. "Lois? Lois Lane?"
Mild-Superman nodded. "Yeah. You know her?"
"Oh, yeah. She's bossy, she's stuck-up, she's rude. I can't stand her."
As Slick-Superman chuckled lightly. Mild-Superman grinned and shrugged. "She's got other good qualities."
"Like what?"
"She's a fine reporter, for one thing," Slick said in that booming voice, his face all merry and bright.
"Yes, a very good reporter," Nerd-Clark said with a grin as he was slightly hunched over. "And a very good friend."
"A good wife and mother."
"A good singer."
"Good at getting me in trouble. And she uses up all the hot water."
Nerd sighed. "There you go being cynical again." He threw up his hands as he rolled his eyes a little behind those dark glasses.
Mild-Superman stepped forward. "It looks like one thing we have in common is Lois. What else or who else?"
They talked about Perry White. Dad-Superman had worked for him once. Nerd-Clark still worked for him.
So did Mild-Superman. His Perry was obsessed with Elvis so that instead of saying "Great Caesar's Ghost," he said "Great shades of Elvis!"
Clark had only met Perry White once as he passed through Smallville. His Perry was a reporter for a TV show about the paranormal. Clark couldn't imagine alcoholic Perry being editor of the Smallville Ledger or even the Smallville High Torch, let alone the great metropolitan newspaper the "Daily Planet."
In fact, Clark recalled Sheriff Adams correcting Perry once when he called her "chief." "Don't call me 'Chief,'" she had said sternly as she waved her hand at him.
Slick Superman found this amusing. "Jimmy's always calling Perry 'chief,'" he noted with a laugh in his voice.
"Same here," Mild-Superman said with a mild smile.
"Good old Jimmy," Dad-Superman said wistfully.
"I think I've yet to meet that guy," Clark said.
"Well, at least you're being a little less cynical."
"Will you get off that?"
"Not very polite, young man."
Clark looked around at his space-time compatriots. "What's with the costumes? I've got a strict policy: no tights."
"It's a tribute to my Kryptonian heritage," Dad-Superman said.
"I also find it helpful when I fly," Nerd-Clark said. He had apparently decided to stop denying he was also Superman.
As the other two said "Me, too" and "Same here," Clark had that skeptical look again. "That's another thing with me: no flights. This Clark Kent is strictly earthbound."
"Not this one," Nerd-Clark said with a little laugh.
Clark gave him a look. "Are you saying you've got one of those costumes on under your suit? With the cape all folded up and tucked in?"
"Yep."
"Doesn't that get a little sweaty?"
"It can be a little hot and stuffy at times, yes." Again, that little laugh as he adjusted his glasses. "But it's all in the service of truth, justice-"
"The American way," the others responded together.
"And protecting people and saving lives," Nerd-Clark added, lifting an instructive finger for emphasis.
Before Clark could continue his interrogation, someone else spoke up.
"Gentlemen, if I may."
"Oh, look, it's another Superman," Clark said in a droll voice.
It was the kind of droll cynical voice he used when Lois informed him she wouldn't be able to talk for a while because of a hurt throat. "That's too bad," he said at the time.
"I'm getting used to that," Mild-Superman said with only mild drollness. He actually grinned a little.
The new Superman spoke in a bold authoritative voice. "It's obvious that each of us is from a different world and different time. Somehow we have been gathered here."
"Thanks for the news flash," Clark said.
"Yes, thanks," Mild said.
"Yes, we guessed that," Slick-Superman said, hands on hips once again. "How do you know that?"
"I am filled with all kinds of information," he said. "I believe I can help and guide you."