Alright, this chapter might make it a little clearer on where another character in this story currently is, as well as why Clark ended up in the situation he's in. In about two more chapters (I think) things will become much clearer. Read on and review!

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There was no shelter in the pen and the sun beat down on Clark endlessly throughout the whole afternoon. Eventually his skin turned red and shinny. His skin had been invulnerable for so long that it had no resistance to the sun, resulting in a bad burn.

There was no water in the enclosure either and his tongue became so hot and heavy that he felt as though it were made of sand. The blood that he'd been spitting up was growing less and less and he hoped it was a good sign, but when it did come up it still left a nearly unbearable iron tang in his mouth.

No one spoke to each other. By mid-afternoon when the shadows had started to get long many people had curled up around the fence at the softest spot of ground that they could find and were resting.

Clark hadn't been able to make himself do that, no matter how fatigued he was. Observation had taught him over and over again that when in a situation such as the present one that it was best to remain vigilant. So instead of sleeping he'd gone to the back of the enclosure and sat with his back against the fence to simply wait and watch. Observation had saved his life countless times. He didn't expect this time to be any different.

As of yet he hadn't been able to bring himself to look at or touch the brand on his back.

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The whole group had been left outside over night. Clark had finally curled up by his little bit of fence and had fallen into a fitful doze. He never slept soundly anymore as it was basically a death sentence to do so.

The dew had condensed on him over night, but he'd been too tired to move even if he had cared to get it off. It had actually felt pretty good anyway, for it had soothed his now-peeling skin, courtesy of the day before.

When the sun started to rise he roused himself and licked the dew off his own body, as well as off as much grass as he could manage before the grainy taste of the dirt finally became unbearable. He was frustrated to find that licking up the meager excuse for a drink only made his thirst worse. It was his second day going without water and he found he missed it much more than food.

There had only been one person in the enclosure who had failed to wake up. At first, Clark had been unable to cope with so much death. Now it still gave him a terrible feeling, but he no longer took time to think about it. Those who knew how to play the games and who had the will to live, as well as a little luck, lived. Those who didn't did not. It was one of the rules he'd been taught with absolutely no mercy.

The group of aliens coming towards their enclosure made the prisoners rise to their feet and clamor towards the back of the pen. It was always that way now. Safety was in groups, not to mention as far away from the aliens as you could reach.

But the aliens only opened the gates and set down pails of water and little tin cups in the center of the enclosure. At first all the people were afraid to approach, but the aliens went back to the front of the pen and leaned against the fence. The need for water drew the humans out.

Cautiously at first, they approached the water buckets. Their caution didn't last long as they began to thirstily slurp the water. Clark was no different--he needed the life giving source as much as anyone.

He forced himself to stop drinking too much too fast. Though it was a torture, he slowed himself to slow gulps and then the methodical refilling of his cup over and over. The others who were slurping greedily would become sick. They didn't know enough to survive.

The water was gone all too fast and the humans all retreated to the back of the pens again. The aliens still gave them no food, but merely watched them, occasionally pointing or laughing.

After a few minutes they started forward towards the humans. Clark tensed up as did everyone else. There was the regular scrambling to get to the back of the group. Clark was still strong enough to fight his way to the back.

Once his back was pressed against the chain link fence he stopped to watch the scene unfold. To his surprise none of the aliens grabbed anyone. Instead they simply pulled out guns and motioned towards the edge of the compound where the door was.

No one moved at first, all fearful that it was a trick, so the aliens cocked the guns. More shoving and pushing to get to the back ensued.

Finally one of the aliens stepped forward and yanked a woman, who looked to be about thirty, away from the group. He lightly shoved her toward the exit. "Move," he ordered, seeming to think the people were like sheep in the way that if one went the others would follow. Unfortunately, Clark thought, they weren't too far off.

The woman looked with wide eyes at the alien and shot back into the group. She tried to shove deeper into the midst, but she wasn't strong enough to force her way in and her fellow people weren't willing to risk their own lives to let her. Finally, becoming annoyed, the alien pointed to the gate and then turned back to the rest of the people. "Move, now!"

No one moved. The alien's face flushed slightly and as quick as lightning he aimed the gun at the woman's head and pulled the trigger. Clark watched her crumple to the ground in seemingly slow motion.

"MOVE!" the alien yelled again, this time pointing his gun at the group.

Fear caused them to obey and start across the yard, causing Clark to fightt his way into the middle of the group. The middle was the safest now, because if a shot was fired it would hit those around the perimeter.

The aliens hustled them out of the gate. As they were leaving Clark turned around briefly and looked at the lone body in the yard. The woman was lying face down and a large red stain was spreading over her back, disappearing under her chocolate brown hair.

Clark swallowed and moved on. You simply couldn't be too affected by death anymore.

The aliens marched the prisoners across the compound, passed the building where they'd all been branded, by the concrete block houses like those that they'd stayed in two nights before, and finally ended up in front of a chain link gate.

The gate was over a passage that went down into the ground, and Clark squinted as he looked out over the distance beyond the fences. Since the land was flat it was easy to see the parked trucks about a mile away, so he assumed that the tunnel came up around there.

The aliens split into two groups, one taking the lead and the other taking the rear. The lead group unlocked the gate and motioned for the humans to follow. They did, especially after a few quick glances at the equally menacing group of aliens behind them.

As they started into the tunnel, Clark began to think about their captors. They weren't that scary looking, at least not as far as physically. They were built like humans in almost every way. And the few differences were barely noticeable.

No, it was really their artillery and their mannerisms that made them frightening. The fact that they had fully conquered earth gave everyone reason to fear them anyway. Unusually for conquers, though, they'd kept their promises to those who had cooperated with them. Humans who had agreed to acknowledge them as supreme had been given very great power, though none were able to usurp the power of the alien nobles and overlord.

Clark shuddered. He'd had the chance to cooperate. He'd chosen the opposite path. He could still vividly remember the conversation he'd had just before he'd chosen to run.

"You cannot win, Clark!"

"I can't roll over to this either!"

"Then what do you plan to do? Do you want to pay with your life?"

"I don't plan to die."

That earned him a roll of the eyes. "No one ever does."

"I won't do this. I won't betray my adopted race."

"You're not betraying them, Clark. Think about it-You could make a better way for them! You could help improve things for them!"

"A race will never thrive under slavery!"

"Those who choose to follow aren't slaves! Only the ones who rebel are to become slaves."

"That's only if their caught."

"Clark, I don't care what gifts you've got! You cannot win!"

"That's what this is about than, isn't it? You know you can't win, and you have too much pride to loose a fight. You'd rather pretend you're doing this for your own gain than to fight and loose."

"I don't know what they do to those that they'll put to slavery, Clark, but I know it won't be good. I know when to cut my losses. Do you?"

"I won't give up on this race."

"I don't want to see this happen to you."

"Nothing's going to happen to me. They only punish those they catch."

That elicited a sigh. "Then go. I won't stop you, and I won't turn you in either. But I still think you're making a huge mistake."

He remembered that after that he'd nodded and snuck away into the night. That had been the breaking point right there. One of them had taken the vow and had risen to the person in charge of overseeing all humans, and the other had ended up in a prison camp for rebels.

Clark still wouldn't have taken the other option if he had the choice to go back, even if it was presented to him at that moment.

All the time he'd been remembering, his feet had guided him on pure instinct alone. He'd learned to do that as well. Naive Clark Kent from Smallville was gone. Sometimes you had to let go of the ideals if you wanted to survive and he'd learned that lesson as it was cruelly taught to him.

They'd entered the tunnel and it was very, very dark. There were mummers of protest as well as sharp grunts and squeals. The aliens had flashlights, but they were only bright enough to light the way for their own feet. It was part of their torture of the prisoners, Clark supposed. He'd long ago decided they were pure sadists.

Hands shoved him from behind and he was forced to grab the person in front of him to keep from falling. Normally it was every man for himself but in situations like the one they were experiencing, people helped each other.

They must have walked for a mile, and that sounded accurate, just based on what Clark had been able to see from above ground before they'd entered the tunnel. Finally, the tunnel seemed to begin to rise. A few minutes later a light appeared towards the end of the tunnel. The aliens shut off their flashlights and the people let go of each other.

When they finally stepped out of the tunnel the light was so bright that Clark was forced to squint. Everyone was held at gunpoint while the aliens locked the gate behind them.

Clark's eyes finally adjusted and he was able to observe his surroundings. It really wasn't much. The area was simply a dusty parking lot with grass around the outside of it, and there were no fences-the aliens didn't need them. The land was so flat that you could get a head start of a minute and still be cleanly picked off by a bullet. Anyone who made a break for it in this situation was a dead man, no questions asked.

"This way," one of the aliens directed. Clark stumbled on with the others in the group in the general direction that the alien had pointed. They were stopped when they got to another truck.

This one was different from the one they ridden to the camp in, for instead of solid metal the walls were metal chain link. The prisoners would be able to see where they were going, but they certainly wouldn't be able to get out.

"Get in," another alien directed, brandishing his gun again.

Like a conditioned herd, the people clambered up the ramp into the truck-all except two people. Those two broke away from the group and started running.

Clark, who was already on the truck and having again got a corner, this time closest to the cab of the truck, pressed his hands against the chain links and watched. The aliens laughed and merely shut the door to the truck and then bolted it.

It would either be freedom or death for those who had run. Clark knew which it would end up being.

Even after the truck was locked, the aliens let the escapees run a bit more. Clark pressed his hands into the chain links so hard that it hurt. Finally one of the aliens raised his gun. It laughed and said something undecipherable in its native tongue to one of its companions before cleanly picking one of the two off.

The other escapee stopped briefly and then started running again. The alien laughed once more and then fired, shooting the remaining runaway cleanly. Clark felt sick as he watched the other aliens grin and clap on the back the one that had fired the bullets.

He wasn't given long to think on it, for soon the truck rumbled to life and the other aliens stepped away from it. A moment later Clark and the others were speeding away from the prison camp. As Clark watched the compound disappear in the distance he found he wasn't sorry to see it go, but he was fearful of what was to come