Jonathan, Clark, and Martha were shocked and dismayed as they tumbled down the short chute into a pile of pillows that let out a plume of dust as they fell on them. First they find Kryptonite in the windows and now this? Jonathan was beginning to think that luck was not on their side today.

However, when Jonathan looked down at the pillows they landed on, and looked up at the metal-lined chute they had traveled through, he knew that this was no accident.

The man looked around with his burning eyes at his family as he began to cough from the dust. Martha was doing likewise as her casual ensemble with the denim jacket and skirt combination seemed greatly soiled by the dirty cushion they landed on. Other than that, she seemed okay. Clark, on the other hand, was not doing as well. He was lying face up on the pillows, covered with dirt and practically coughing up a lung. The kryptonite was probably making it even more difficult for him to breath.

"It's okay, baby," Martha said as she started to crawl over to her son in order to prop him up. However, when she began to move she let out a huge wail.

"What is it Martha?" Jonathan asked, frightened.

"I think…I think I twisted my ankle," Martha said with her eyes squeezed shut and her voice on the brink of tears. She was obviously in a lot of pain, and yet she managed to say, "Please, Jonathan…help Clark stop coughing."

Jonathan's eyes began to tear up at that statement, not that they weren't teary already from the dust that was in his eyes. He put his shirt over his mouth in order to not get dirt in his lungs and then to moved over to his son and lifted him up so that he had Clark in his lap. When he did so, he caught a glimpse of his son through the brown flying particles. He was shaking as and he didn't seem to have a break in his coughing for him to breathe. On the bright side, the green veins that Clark usually had when he reacted to kryptonite were absent. The deadly rocks must have been far enough away from him to really yield a deadly affect. This meant that Clark would be able to hold his breath for a long time, but still Jonathan didn't want to waste any minutes on the clock. Clark didn't look at all comfortable in his coughing spell. He looked like his chest was in horrible pain. Jonathan quickly responded and dragged the boy off of the pillows and out of the cloud of dust. In this new environment, there was still some dust in the air, but it wasn't nearly as bad as before. Jonathan lifted Clark up so that he was sitting up and beat on his back so that all of the particles got out of his lungs. To the farmer, the time he had to perform this operation seemed like hours as Clark seemed to be coughing his own lungs out.

This reminded Jonathan of what seemed to him like a very random memory about the early days with his son. Clark was six years old and he had choked on something, Jonathan didn't remember what. All that the farmer remembered were the bruises that he got on his hands and arms by trying to give the boy the Heimlich and beat on his back. He also remembered his tears when he realized little Clark was beyond help. The little boy was choking for ten minutes before Jonathan managed to coach him to push the object out on his own. The tears that the boy cried on his daddy's lap after the terrifying ordeal was over resonated in Jonathan's mind the most. Right after that memory entered Jonathan's head, Clark began a pause in his coughing. He was starting to get a few breathes in and out in between heaves of his diaphragm, so Jonathan decided to stop beating the back and let the boy lay down on his lap. This time, when Jonathan looked at his hands, he saw that there were no bruises, which meant Clark was still weak. This made the man worry even as Clark began to breathe more normally.

As he watched Clark gasping for breath in his lap, Jonathan stroked his hair, which made his son smile and feel safe. The farmer then looked up to see his wife dragging herself over to the site by her hands and arms. Her red hair was barely visible through the thick coat of dust that covered it. Her clothes were also more soiled then he originally saw. He was about to make a joke about it to lighten the mood, but then he looked down at his own clothing and noticed that he was just as bad, as was Clark. The plain white shirt he had been wearing was now a light brown, which was probably the reason Clark was still coughing even after the dust had settled. There was plenty of it on his shirt.

Martha began to push through the pain of her ankle and stroked her son on his dirty face with the tip of her finger. Since Clark was now getting the human touch to comfort him, Jonathan decided to look around this room they had fallen into. The first thing that the farmer noticed was that the floors, as well as the walls, were made of bare and chipped concrete. The lighting was made of fluorescent bulbs that streaked all the way across the ceiling, just like the lights in a classroom. However, a classroom was the last thing that Jonathan thought of. The first thing this place reminded him of was the old bomb shelter that he had found when he was around the age of ten. It was in the middle of the woods and he used it as a place to hide from doing his chores on the farm, until the day he decided it was too babyish and never went back. This seemed like the same build plan or his former hideaway, only it was bigger and it had no beds, or furniture, or anything, except a decorated wooden door.

"Look, Martha, a door!" Jonathan said in an excited voice. He didn't even let his wife respond as he hopped up from his spot and trotted over to grab the handle to test it and see if it was unlocked. Sure enough it was, and he immediately turned it to open it. However, he saw something very different from freedom on the other side.

"Hello, Mr. Kent," Reverend Jim with several of the congregation members behind him. "I was wondering when you would discover the door." The man had taken off his jacket and loosened to his tie to reveal a little bit of skin around his neck. This gave the man less of a professional feel than he had when he met the Kents.

Jonathan looked into the man's eyes, which were now absent of glasses, and felt a great sense of loathing. There was no doubt in the farmer's mind that the reverend had done this trap door trick on purpose. Now he had the nerve to actually say 'hello' like he was coming on a courtesy call! This made Jonathan want to punch the man in the face, and, before he could stop himself, he did.

"Jonathan!" Martha called out as she saw the reverend fall into his group of followers. Jonathan himself had to step back and take in what he had just done. All he got in return were the evil gazes of the people in Rev. Jim's company. The reverend himself quickly recovered and dusted some of the dander off of his shoulders like it was debris from a fight. He then told his companions that he was okay while fixing his tie.

"We just want to see the boy," he said as he caught his breath and rubbed the sore spot on his cheek.

"What do you want with my son?" Jonathan said through gritted teeth. "Wait. Better question. Why the hell are we down here!"

Gasps from the crowd preceded the reverend saying in a soft tone, "You'll know everything in time. Right now we just want to see your son. Is there anything wrong with that?" In the process of speaking, Rev. Jim looked straight into Jonathan's eyes and stared him down and, in a sense, began playing with Jonathan's malleable mind. At the end of the speech, Jonathan felt a strong urge to just sit against the wall. It wasn't forced. Jonathan just wanted to sit down. He was tired and deserved a rest. When Jonathan finally did sit, Martha's mouth fell open at the uncharacteristic behavior of her husband. However, Martha proved to be just as gullible when the reverend and company approached her and told her to back away from her son. Clark was now sitting alone, still struggling to breathe and to hold himself up. The cold cement floor only made him feel more cold and alone, although the increased presence around him in the form of encircling churchgoers made that feeling less apparent.

"Look at that pathetic display," said one of them.

"It can't be true," said another.

"He's so handsome."

"No older than my son."

"Don't be fooled!" the reverend shouted over all of them. "This boy, no matter how young or innocent he seems to be, is an unholy demon, and deserves everything that is coming to him."

Both Martha and Jonathan's eyes went wide as they heard the words 'unholy demon' come out of Rev. Jim's mouth to describe their son. They were about to come to their senses and get up from their spots before the two brown-haired twins that the family had met earlier ran through the door, split up, and grabbed both of their waists. These kids may have been young, but they were very strong, and very effective at keeping Martha and Jonathan from going anywhere.

"This boy is indeed the creature that I have been telling you about," Rev. Jim continued in a strong and resounding bellow that made his flock swoon. "He is the inhuman beast that was brought here to make the rest of us curse God. How you ask? He is making us hate our own bodies, that's how! He's making us wonder why we can't be like him, and in the process, strive to do so. Is this the only reason he is evil, you ask? Well, let's just say that the reason he was sent here is only scratching the surface when it comes to his danger. He was not born of a woman, but sent here in a deadly fire that killed many in this fine state. He was not created by the Lord, but mixed in the depths of space, a place that not even angels dare to tread. His evil nature is shown in physical form by the fire that emits from his eyes when he lusts for one of our women. That is but a metaphor for what would happen if he was ever with one of those women, heaven forbid." He then turned his attention down at Clark and looked into his eyes while bending over. "Go ahead, boy. Show us this manifestation."

Clark had tried to contort his position so that he would not have to hear about all of this junk about himself from this crackpot. The problem was that, except for a few exaggerations, the man wasn't lying. In fact, through this sermon, Clark was beginning to face the issues that he had been struggling with for so long. Could he be with a woman? Would he make other people jealous? A jab in the side with a finger and another series of coughs snapped him out of his thinking, and led him to look above him at a piece of paper. On the side facing him, it said "BURN ME" in big letters. Clark wanted to laugh at this statement, but the look of the reverend's eyes right beside it caused him to take the writing as an order. Clark didn't know what made him use his heat vision on the paper, especially since it was weak, but the fact that he did it and that this caused frenzy among the people made Clark immediately regret it.

"You see," Rev. Jim continued as he threw the burning paper in a corner. "It's a good thing that I found out his only weakness, otherwise we would have never known it was him or gotten him this weak. The Spirit was kind to bring him here so that his fate could finally be carried out." At this, the reverend backed away from the site and the people circled around the boy and started to take turns torturing the young lad. One of the men of the group actually kicked Clark onto his back and stabbed his stomach with the heel of his boot. A woman sprayed perfume in Clark's eyes, making his breathing problem worse and his eyes pained. A child pulled Clark's hair and shook it around so that his head started to spin. A young man began to use his pocket knife to swipe Clark's arms with gashes. Another woman dug her fingernails into a part of Clark's stomach exposed by tears in his shirt. There were also the repeated punches in the face, kicks in the side, and shouted slurs that made both Clark and his parent's squirm.

Since there was a myriad of people in the way, Jonathan and Martha couldn't see what these people were doing to make their son scream so horribly. However, they knew that their son was being put through a great deal of pain with them just being forced to look on. Martha then finally decided that she would not be a spectator in this horrible game.

"Stop it!" she shouted as she struggled with her pre-pubescent holder. "Leave my son alone!"

"Yes, leave him alone!" Jonathan shouted as he gained courage from his wife.

The reverend looked at both of them with a stare that could kill if it were a sword. He then called for the people of the church to cease in their torture of young Clark. They reluctantly did so as they backed away from the former hero who now lay broken and bleeding with tears in his eyes and a broken heart to boot. Martha's heart sank and Jonathan just felt compelled to punch the reverend again with several added shots to the groin. This angered him to the point of wanting to cry.

"Your son?" Rev. Jim asked as he shifted his focal point between each parent. "That boy is not your son. He isn't even human. It's time that you two stopped kidding yourselves and started to realize the truth at hand. This boy has not brought you any joy ever since you found him in that field. Whatever joy he has brought you has been overshadowed by the pain."

"How do you know so much about my family!" Jonathan shouted before he was silenced by a wave of the reverend's hand.

"That's not for you to know now. In fact, I'm getting ahead of myself as it is. It's not time for your reeducation yet." The man then turned away from the Kents as they sat in stunned silence, not entirely intentional. Rev. Jim then address his congregation whom was now standing against the wall with the door, simply staring at the injured boy that they were dying to torture again.

"You all must be patient," the man said. "The time is coming when this demon will finally get his justice. In the meantime…"

"What are you going to do to him?" Martha said in a shaky voice, even though it was strong enough to stop the reverend in his tracks.

Rev. Jim turned and stared at the woman with a slightly surprised look on his face.

"Tell 'er," shouted one of the older kids in the group. "Tell 'er what you're gonna do to the bastard!"

The reverend preformed his now familiar hand raise and said, "Later, my son. Now is simply the time for preparation and meditation. The moment we have been waiting for had finally arrived. Let us rejoice in that before we continue further." The man then snapped his fingers and ordered his sons to take the struggling Jonathan and Martha Kent away.

"Clark!" They both shouted as they were taken out of the large room. The beaten and abused Clark was doing his best to lift himself up and catch a glimpse of his departing parents.

"Mom! Dad!" He shouted with all his might before he plopped back on the floor, which yielded even more pain. He then watched as a couple of burly men that Clark did not recognize lift him up and take him out of the room as he slipped into an unwelcome slumber.