Such a short response time meant that people were aware of the warship's presence and had already mobilized to act accordingly. It seemed too quick, even for the U.S. military, but Clark had almost no time to think of or enact a plan regardless. As soon as he made it into the open air, he was met with gunfire.

The planes' formation broke shortly after, splitting to fire from as many sides as possible. Clark weaved awkwardly between the aircraft hoping to get the pilots' attentions at least, but what he saw was enough to give him pause. All of the cockpits were empty.

Automated offensive measures were a smart move by whomever sent the jets, but now it was obvious that Clark wasted valuable time. He didn't know whether to be frustrated or relieved. Human lives were in no immediate danger, yet the moment for negotiation with the other Kryptonians was now past.

As Clark had expected, Zod did not acquiesce to his earlier demand. The warship launched quick and efficient countermeasures, firing beams of energy and shards of crystal from all sides. The automated jets' own limited ammunition was ineffective in the effort to damage the Kryptonian vessel, so all they could do to defend themselves was evade. They were surprisingly adept at maneuvering and keeping themselves from getting hit, but they couldn't keep it up forever. Clark watched as three were destroyed in rapid succession.

The din of the firefight offered clarity. Clark believed in the obligation to allow everyone the opportunity to do the right thing, but he knew he'd been incredibly naive. As soon as Zod had given his name, he should have gone on the offensive. He'd had the upper hand the entire time. But he screwed it up being too nice. Clark prayed his mistake wouldn't have the consequences he feared.

Dozens of turrets lined the ship's bottom half. Regaining his wits, Clark barrel-rolled backwards and shot off in a tight arc. Steady blasts of heat vision took care of the guns with barely an ounce of effort, but he couldn't have it easy. As quickly as the turrets were destroyed, they were replaced by new ones. Clark x-rayed the ship to find several shaft-like constructions housing dozens of guns each, ready to be deployed upon the loss of the one before it. He grimaced. No one could say Kryptonians weren't prepared.

Heat and x-ray vision together made short work of the reserves, but not before they destroyed another plane. There were now only three, and a small part of Clark wondered if whoever controlled them would make the retreat, or continue to let them be fodder.

All the ship's projectile weaponry was demolished, but Clark didn't stop there. More heat vision sliced through the hull with no resistance like a sword through newsprint, and not for the first time he was impressed with his own power.

A perverse pleasure overtook him. Until recently, Clark had always used his abilities stealthily, and then mostly to protect others. But now, high above the ocean with nothing remotely fragile in sight, Clark tasted a new kind of freedom. All worry vanished as his heat vision surged to full power. He flew straight through whatever came into his path, barely noticing how debris crumpled and snapped as it came into contact with him. Setting his sights on the warship, he poured on the speed. The hull was durable, but clearly not enough to stop him.

Tearing straight through the metal shielding, Clark burrowed his way back over and across the bridge to shatter the crystal windshield on his way out. One of the jets came around then, matching his flight path to fire into the newly-made opening. Clark stopped to admire its handiwork and appreciated that the inside of the ship was not nearly as durable as the outside. The explosions that rocked the bridge wouldn't have gone unnoticed even if there weren't an AI on the ship, but Kelor certainly offered no time for rest. The disembodied voice rang loudly, seemingly coming from several parts of the ship at once.

[Hull breached and bridge severely damaged,] said Kelor. [Engaging emergency defenses.]

Before Clark could find out what those measures entailed, he heard the release of the hangar doors somewhere below him. He wasn't surprised - it was only a matter of time before Zod or the others on the ship came out to greet him. Wariness was appropriate, but Clark favored offense.

Diving to the lower half of the warship he almost collided with eight spherical devices rocketing from the hangar. Clark's first decision was to race after them, but the appearance of Faora at the edge of the open ramp gave him pause. Two men stood with her, neither of whom Clark had yet encountered. One held a wild grin that unsettled Clark immensely, and the other had no expression at all.

The former Phantom Zone prisoners, now adorned with black scaly armor, dropped in unison out of the ship and into the sunlit air below. Clark watched dumbfounded as they nose-dived, freefalling like missiles until they started to slow. It had only taken seconds, but now they were floating in midair just as he was.

"Shit," mumbled Clark. Things just couldn't be easy.

Clark had hoped that in the very real possibility of an altercation he'd at least have the upper hand regarding control of his abilities, but apparently the learning curve was much shorter. That advantage was dwindling as fast as they were flying toward him now.

Clark pushed the anxiety and anger as far down as he could and took off in the direction of the last sphere at several times the speed of sound. He needed to find and destroy those devices before they could do what they were programmed to do. Hopefully he'd be able to outfly the escapees.

"Kelex!" he yelled. No answer came. He kept flying, looking back to see if Faora and the others had gained on him, but they hadn't. In fact, he couldn't see any sign of them in his immediate vicinity.

"Kelex!" Clark called again.

"Yes, Kal," came Kelex's voice this time. Clark huffed in relief.

"Zod and Faora escaped the Phantom Zone and are not friendly. They sent these machines out into the sky and I need to stop them before they cause trouble. Can you detect them?"

"Of course. Two are over the United States, the others are over the Atlantic Ocean heading east."

"You're amazing, Kelex. Where's the one closest to me?"

"Just coming over Boston."

"Great," muttered Clark. That was fast. He put on more speed, x-raying down through the clouds to get a read on where he was. "Send your vessels and take out as many of them as you can. Keep the line open."

Skimming southward above the east coast, Clark scanned the metropolitan hubs on the water. Boston wasn't so far off, so Clark started to make his descent and started looking for his quandary. As he caught a glimpse of the device in the distance, Kelex came back online.

"The warship is descending, Kal."

"Oh, come on," grumbled Clark, picking up speed. "Where's it going?"

"Too soon to tell."

"Okay, keep me posted. I'm –"

Clark was tackled out of the sky, blindsided by one of Faora's companions. He had Clark by the ribcage, and before the latter could react he was met with a blow to the back of his head. Dazed and mildly surprised at feeling actual pain, Clark strained to focus his eyes. The other man was now floating in front of him, but Clark was still being held in midair from behind. He struggled in confusion but couldn't break free.

[You were right, Faora,] came a voice from beside him. [Jax is much better like this.]

Faora had Clark in a vice grip, restricting the use of his arms. Clark's vision finally became clear, and the other two came into view. The one with the amused expression was clearly who'd spoken. He looked completely open and relaxed, incongruous given the circumstances. This one undoubtedly spelled trouble. But as worried as Clark was about his own safety at the moment, he was distracted by the look on Jax's face. His attack had been aggressive, but his face was as blank as it had been when Clark first saw him. It felt wrong.

[Be thankful it's not you, Daxamite,] said Faora.

There was only one Daxamite among the names Clark remembered from the archive's list of Phantom Zone prisoners. He knew who it was.

[You're Dev-Em,] said Clark, struggling against Faora. Dev snapped to attention at the mention of his name. An impressed look accompanied the smirk on his face.

[I didn't realize we would be so famous. How exciting,] said Dev. [I admit I am flattered that you know my name. It's a shame no one told me yours.]

[You destroyed the guns with your eyes. An interesting ability,] Faora whispered in his ear. Clark was struggling against her and gaining some slack, but her grip was strong and she had more leverage. [I wonder if you can take being on the receiving end. Why don't you try it, Jax?]

Jax's expression flickered, but remained mostly the same. Nothing else happened.

[What did you do to him?] asked Clark through gritted teeth. Faora laughed softly. It was a cold, eerie sound.

[Manipulation of his genetic code made him more docile and compliant. I eliminated the possibility of betrayal. An improvement, too, as he used to be quite the nuisance.]

Clark looked at Jax again. His faculties definitely weren't all there. The other man looked almost bored, and made no move. [You're sick.]

[Did you really think my general would plan to give anyone else this much power if we could not control them?]

A flicker of panic went through Clark's brain at the mention of General Zod. Finally the plan made sense, but that wouldn't matter if Clark couldn't find a way to defend against the two-pronged attack.

Fortunately, it seemed Jax had not figured out how to use heat vision. Clark knew from experience that control was a skill that had to be meticulously learned, and had hoped that it wouldn't be as easy for them to manage as flying was. Learning to fly was probably more a survival instinct given they'd jumped into open air, but this wasn't. Clark wasn't about to take any chances though.

He blasted his own heat vision at Jax's left side, opting more for concussive force than high heat. Tucking his chin, he leaned away from Faora and shot forward, flying past Jax and continuing southward as he had been before being interrupted. Clark twisted into a high-speed barrel roll and pulled his arms in, which had the desired effect of flinging Faora off of him and into the open air. Clark put on another burst of speed and searched the skies for the device once more.

"Give me an update on the locations, Kelex." He'd have to ask Kelex how this form of communication worked after all of this was over.

"I've destroyed two so far. The closest to you is now coming up on Gotham City. I cannot tell where they are headed, but their energy output is increasing."

He'd just flown past New York City and would be there soon, but he knew it wouldn't be long until Faora found him again. Clark accelerated to re-entry speed. He met no resistance along the way, and was on the outskirts of Gotham in thirty seconds. The automated sphere of metal and crystal was rocketing across the sky low over Gotham Heights in the northern part of the city, and he rushed to meet it.

Clark had never been to Gotham, at least nothing other than passing over it. He was both amazed and put off by the structure of the city, set like a spider web around a large park in the middle. The more developed parts were dominated primarily by Gothic architecture, the oddness of which eclipsed only by the fact that the city seemed to look dark and dim even in the daytime. That wasn't normally the case with big cities on the coast. Unlike Los Angeles or even National City, everything here seemed disconsolate and old with sharp edges and towering shadows.

When he finally caught up to the sphere, his wariness increased exponentially. It wasn't slowing down, so Gotham wasn't its target, but it was suspiciously easy to stop from Clark's point of view. Not wanting to waste time, he did the first thing that came to mind and squeezed. Two things happened at once. The metal crumpled inward like paper, and Clark was electrocuted.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up in a large dent on top of a car. Clark rolled off and onto the sidewalk.. There seemed to have been a small explosion between his loss of consciousness and coming to.

The device was in pieces scattered across the expanse of the street, the adjacent storefront's windows were completely shattered, and two women were lying on opposite ends of the sidewalk. One was blonde and wearing a black leather jacket, looking no older than Clark. The other rested awkwardly beside a broken flower pot, the dirt and single plant present mixing with her mess of red hair. A few others on the block were quickly making themselves scarce, walking into stores on the street or just making their way to the next block.

"Kal." Kelex's transmission came back online. Clark forced himself to focus. "Four down so far. A word of caution: sometimes they blow up when destroyed."

"Thanks."

Clark checked on both women to make sure they were alive. They were, though they did have minor injuries. He intended to have someone get help for them while he continued on his business, but this back street hadn't had many people on it to begin with and was now deserted. The sound of cracking concrete interrupted him.

He turned to find Faora and Jax striding purposefully toward him in the center of the street. The latter's armor was dulled and dented from Clark's blast of heat vision. Jaw clenched in frustration, Clark met them with no courtesy.

[This is your last chance,] called Clark, floating. [I'm willing to help you defend against whoever's bidding you're doing, but you have to stop this.]

[We serve no one and nothing but Krypton!] Faora growled, her teeth bared. [This planet and its people are ours. Concede, or we will go through you.]

Faora lunged and Jax followed her lead, closing the short distance in less than a second. Clark whirled to evade the Kryptonian woman and landed in Jax's path before moving to defend himself. He caught Jax by the arm and flung him in Faora's direction. She jumped over him, leaving her subordinate to fly straight into the side of a red minivan, and flew directly at Clark. The move caught him off guard and, leaning the other way, he could only brace himself for the impact. Her gauntlet covered fist collided with his face, and he hit the ground hard.

Faora gave his stomach a swift kick, sending him bouncing off the roof of a car and into a brick wall on the other side of the street. Before he could get his bearings he was hit again, this time by Jax with what looked to be a broken street sign. Clark felt himself being grabbed by the throat, and opened his eyes fully. His jaw and ribs were throbbing, and he could feel blood dripping from his face. Faora had him raised off the ground with one hand, examining him with an air of cold ferocity.

[We could be gods, Kal-El. Make Krypton anew in all its splendor…yet you fret over these lesser beings,] Faora mused. Her other hand twitched, almost acting of its own accord, and floated upward to his face. She stroked his lip with an uncharacteristically gentle caress, gathering a bit of blood on her finger. [This one drop is worth more than all of them combined. Yet you disgrace your people.]

Faora tossed him bodily to the side. Clark spat blood out of his mouth.

[These are my people.]

Faora whipped back toward him at his words, and with a cry of fury moved faster than Clark had a chance to react. She dove, scooping him by the cape, and flew him straight up. All he could do was try to float in an effort to alleviate the tension of being yanked backwards, but it wasn't enough as Faora wound him in a circle and brought her arm down hard, flinging him into a warehouse a couple blocks away.

There were people inside, some dressed in lab gear, some in casual clothing, and some in business attire. Most were confused and frozen in place, staring at him. The majority of the space in the warehouse was empty, but there were several tables with large cases, machines, and computers on them. Long, thick cables ran along the floor, most likely to be available for powering something big. Clark got to his feet. Getting battered repeatedly did a number on his patience, and he had a feeling things were about to get even messier. He wiped the blood off of his face and flicked his hand with a grimace.

Faora and Jax crashed through the roof and landed a few meters away.

"Get everyone out of here," Clark ordered the nearest human. "Quickly."

Faora's eyes began to glow red, and Clark cursed inwardly. She let her heat vision loose on the small crowd as they fled the premises, but he was already moving. Speeding into its path, Clark propelled his own heat vision full blast to meet it. Faora clearly hadn't anticipated the force, and was easily overpowered. With a grunt of pain she went down hard, face dark and steaming. Jax finally figured out how to utilize his own heat vision and followed her lead. He hit some of the equipment before Clark tackled him into the ground hard enough to crack the concrete floor. Jax's body went limp.

Clark doubled back to assess Faora, who was just getting back up with an angry groan. He lunged with incredible speed, but she was ready. Whipping a forearm out to meet the other Kryptonian, Faora dropped him immediately. Before he could hit the ground, she caught him by the chin and wrenched him back upwards and twisted. Her knee surged upwards, slamming into Clark's chest and propelling him back across the open space into a metal table. A few of the cases on top fell and split open.

Clark rolled to stand and doubled over in immense pain. It felt as if his head would split from the inside with the rest of his body soon to follow. His stomach tightened and his muscles felt like lead. All energy drained out of him, and it took formidable willpower just to keep himself on his hands and knees. He couldn't even lift his head up.

Never in his life had Clark felt so weak. He hadn't thought he could, and now was the worst time to be proven wrong. Clark heard Faora coming closer, and resigned himself to his fate.

Hearing a thud and a crash to his left, Clark collapsed, the weight of his own body too much for him. His right side hit the concrete and his eyes struggled to focus. He'd been sure that he was about to get pummeled some more, but the onslaught hadn't come. Now, a few feet away, he saw Faora writhing on the floor with anger and agony on her face. Clark's confusion doubled. Whatever was affecting him had to be affecting her too, but he couldn't tell the cause.

Strewn across the floor a ways away were rocks, most the size of his fist. One of them stood out in particular, being almost ten times that size. All of them were glowing a deep, ethereal green. Clark's mind reeled at the sight. It couldn't just be rocks that had them so weak, could it? The thought of it was ludicrously bizarre. Yet it seemed the only explanation, as the glowing minerals were the only thing different about the environment from a moment ago.

Jax regained consciousness and started to make his way over to the two Kryptonians. Faora stopped him.

[No! Go protect the drones. I will not have my general's plan fail.]

The Kryptonian's voice was low but strong and commanding as always. Jax complied, flying up out of the warehouse the way he'd come. Clark saw Faora reach into her armor and pull out a small device. She clicked it, and then let her arm drop back toward the floor in exhaustion.

Clark's jaw clenched. I'm losing time, he thought. He needed to get away from those jagged rocks, and quickly. Blood and sweat dripped down the side of his face and onto the floor. He was almost hyperventilating now, sweating and deprived of air like he'd just run a marathon as a human. His lungs and mouth were raw, and he wished more than anything for the pain to stop.

Another moment passed before the environment changed again. Clark heard the taps of footsteps first, and then the source of the sound came into view. Dev had arrived, and was now strolling leisurely around the warehouse taking stock of the situation. He walked right past both Clark and Faora to pick up one of the glowing rocks. With pursed lips and a raised eyebrow he looked between the mineral and the two Kryptonians.

[Where the hell have you been?] rasped Faora.

Dev walked over to her. [This star does offer me similar abilities to you, but it seems I'm not as fast or as strong as a Kryptonian here. It took some time for me to catch up.]

Clark watched as Dev crouched beside Faora. She squirmed and groaned, edging away from him in slow, desperate movements. He examined the rock in his hand again, and brought it closer to her face.

A short, pitiful cry came out of her mouth. Faora swatted at him weakly, still backing away as much as she could. But she was unable to escape the pain.

[How interesting,] mumbled Dev. [Looks like there are advantages to not being Kryptonian after all.]

Dev looked behind him and made eye contact with Clark, who was too exhausted and hurt to feel worried. The air felt thick and his insides churned like there were razors in his bloodstream. Hunched and shivering, all Clark could manage was to watch Dev and see what he would do, and the Daxamite did something Clark had not expected.

Dev turned back and whipped his arm out in front of him, slamming the glowing mineral into Faora's face. If Clark had felt anything other than pain, he would have cringed at the sound of the blow. Faora collapsed in a heap as Dev dropped the rock beside her and stood up. A cheerful expression replaced his neutral one.

Without a second glance at the unconscious body, he walked over with an air of confidence. The injured Kryptonian waited with mounting apprehension.

Dev wrenched him upward by the arm and tossed him over his shoulder, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Clark tensed as Dev shot upward and carried him out of the hole in the roof to dump him on top of the adjacent building. Now back in the sunlight and away from the rocks, Clark felt infinitely better. He took a deep breath.

[You're welcome,] called Dev, smiling. Clark stood opposite him several feet away. Dev gave an expectant look, but Clark didn't answer. [We should talk.]

Clark eyed him suspiciously. [What do you want?]

Dev stretched languidly from side to side, arms above his head. He clearly did not consider the current situation with as much gravity as Clark did. [Let me first tell you what I don't want: to be involved with whatever mess Zod has planned with the person who freed us. I'm coming to enjoy my freedom in this part of the universe, and I don't want that meddled with. Besides, it's really none of my business.]

[Aren't you on their side? You were freed right along with them.]

[They were a means to an end. I only repaired the ship's phantom drive, which, as you can see, served to benefit me just as much as it did them. Not as powerful as you all, but still plenty powerful.]

Anger flared inside Clark. [So you're the reason they're here.]

Dev hesitated, cocking his head. [Well yes, technically. But that's in the past, and right now I have more important information. You'll want to hear what I have to say.]

[You must have been in the Phantom Zone for a reason. Why should I trust you?]

Clark noticed a change in the Daxamite's eyes. Dev answered with a much more serious tone than before. [Krypton was not a sanctuary for foreigners. If a refugee ended up there, I assure you it was an absolute last resort. I was imprisoned for being a Daxamite. Nothing more, and nothing less.]

Clark knew from his studies how prejudiced Kryptonian society was, and how dangerous it had the potential to be for anyone from another planet. He was well aware of the similarities on Earth, yet his sympathy for Dev was not enough. The best liars lie with the truth, and Clark didn't have all the details. One thing he did know: not all foreigners rounded up after Zod's rebellion were sent to the Phantom Zone. So why him?

There was something Dev had not divulged. But Clark thought it imprudent to garner further hostility from who had just ceased it. So he asked a different question. [Then why leave Daxam?]

Dev stared at Clark, relaxing again. Clark wasn't sure he'd answer, but he eventually did. [Civil unrest turned into civil war upon the deaths of an entire royal family.]

Dev did not elaborate further. Clark nodded silently.

[None of that matters at the moment,] said Dev. [We want the same thing in the short term, and neither of us can get rid of those insufferable Kryptonians on our own. I'm being cordial, but you don't exactly have a choice here.]

Clark pursed his lips, still on guard. [How do I know you're not just manipulating me like you did them?]

Dev laughed. It was a light sound, a melodious thing that unsettled Clark not because of any malice, but because of the lack thereof. [Oh, I certainly am. But I just saved you back there, which means you now have the upper hand should I betray you. Will you listen or not?]

Clark knew he was wasting time. He knew that the man in front of him was as duplicitous as any he'd ever known. But he also knew that even with Kelex he was in over his head. Clark wouldn't be able to get through this ordeal alone. After a few seconds of silence, Clark nodded. [Fine.]

[Wonderful,] said Dev, lapsing into his spiel. [Those devices flying around this planet right now are designed to alter the population over time, changing their physiology to be more like yours while also making them extremely docile if need be. Like Jax, who you've already met.]

[I know all that already,] cut Clark, [and I've enlisted some help in destroying them.]

[They serve two other functions as well, the first being outright destruction. Their method of gene manipulation is based on energy projection, not a form of inoculation-]

[So at close ranges it only serves to kill people and impact the environment,] followed Clark. Dev nodded.

[Yes. The second function is reconnaissance. They're meant to scan for the easiest places to terraform.]

Clark froze. Even with his crash course in Kryptonian technology, he hadn't expected that to be part of Zod's plan. Panic started to set in. Something as small as a softball was able to create the entire Fortress. A warship could house something significantly bigger that could affect a much larger portion of land.

[How do they plan on doing that? Are they really capable of changing the entire planet right now?]

[I'm not privy to the specifics, but I doubt it's meant for the whole planet. Drastically changing the environment would probably kill a significant portion of the population, and I doubt the general would want to lose so many precious soldiers. So likely just select areas.]

Clark considered Dev's words. He didn't have time to think of other options. The stakes kept growing and he was up to his hair in fear and adrenaline. The entire world was on the line, and at that moment it was all in Clark's hands.

[Okay. Given this is all your idea, I assume you have a plan.]

Dev offered an amiable expression. [Of course. It's not very structured yet I daresay it'll be quite effective. But don't worry, I won't be killing or maiming anyone today. Something tells me you care about that sort of thing.]

Clark gave a small, exasperated sigh. Dev's nonchalance was really grating on him. [You're right, I do. I'll take care of the rest of those devices. What'll you do?]

Dev walked backward toward the edge of the building. Another wide grin blossomed over his face. [Cause some chaos, of course.]

Dev turned and shot off into the sky at the speed of sound, leaving Clark to wonder what the hell he was getting into. He x-rayed the buildings around him and found the warehouse, with Faora still on the ground inside. Without a shred of sympathy, Clark took to the air once more.

/

Lana's day had gone south rather quickly. Meeting Clark during the expo took a sharp dive, and when Lana saw him make for the exit she knew something was extremely wrong. Her mess of feelings after their conversation already served to distract her while tending to the bustling crowd of expo attendees, but worse now was the eruption of dread she'd been suppressing and not just from Clark's words. Lana had no idea why he'd left, and yet, that didn't stop her from assuming she'd caused it. Part of her screamed that Clark wouldn't leave her if something was wrong between them. Nevertheless, he wasn't here now, and anxiety grabbed her heart and held it for ransom.

Doubt was sunlight in a magnifying glass, focused and burning a hole into her sense of faith. She'd known it was just a matter of time before her elation at being with the boy she loved was eclipsed by her self-sabotaging tendencies, so this wasn't a surprise. Lana did her best to level her thoughts, but the fact that Clark left the expo, which was really important to her, didn't help. He hadn't even texted to let her know. Something must have happened. But then again, Lana had never dismissed him the way she had, at least not while they were together. Maybe he was mad or hurt and left because of it.

Now, taking a break in one of the hall's back rooms, Lana sat next to Lena in a cheap metal folding chair. She couldn't stop herself from staring unfocused at the floor. Her face felt neutral, but to Lena that wouldn't be very convincing, or much of a deterrent for that matter. She could feel the brunette watching her, but she didn't care to address it. She soon found she didn't have to.

"What's going on?" Lena deadpanned. The small room seemed even smaller somehow, and Lana's jaw clenched involuntarily. Lena's face was expressionless, and somehow that made it more unsettling.

"Nothing."

Lena whipped out her phone and started sliding her thumb rapidly over the touchscreen. "Bullshit. You've been excited as hell for this thing. Anything less than a victory jig means something's up."

Lana turned to Lena full on. "Look, it's nothing. Just something on my mind, and I'm being emotional for no reason. It's not important right now."

Lena fought the urge to roll her eyes. She wasn't normally one to talk about feelings; it'd been drilled into her head by a certain mother figure that emotions were a weakness, for women especially, and therefore should never be considered or dwelled upon. Luthors were meant to outsmart and outperform anyone and everyone; emotions provided no advantages and only played into the hands of those who already thought them too emotional. Lena shook her head, clearing it of her knee-jerk reaction. No. Emotions are natural. It's okay to feel, she told herself. Lana needed support, not contempt and belittlement.

"No one is emotional for no reason. Be it all you want," said Lena. "What happened?"

It took a moment for Lana to answer. Since it was Lena, known in their group for simplicity and objectivity, she unloaded. "Clark's not here anymore. He left."

"What? When?" said Lena immediately, looking up from her phone. "And why?"

Lana chuckled despite herself, but with what could barely be called a smile. "I don't know. I saw him leave after Gerry finished up with that reporter from the Daily Planet. He didn't say why, and he hasn't called or texted."

"Did you ask him?" Lana shook her head. Lena stashed her phone again and leaned forward with full attention. "That must've been right after I left you. Gerry wasn't with the reporter for that long. Did something else happen? You two seemed pretty happy when you introduced me."

Lana heaved a sigh and ran a hand through her hair. "He wanted to share something important with me. It caught me off guard and scared the hell out of me and I might as well have told him to fuck off."

Lena gave her a sympathetic look. In truth, she didn't know what to say. She didn't have many friends, and had never actually been in a committed relationship.

"I'm such a fucking idiot. He needed support and I gave him nothing," mumbled Lana, scowling. "Worse than nothing."

"Hey," said Lena softly, "I'm sure it'll sort itself out if you talk to him. It might not have even been that. Maybe something else happened that was independent of you, something urgent. But you have a phone, so get in touch with him. Don't make any judgements without having the facts."

Lana nodded absentmindedly. She knew she was making assumptions, but it was helpful to hear it from someone other than herself.

"Go ahead, do it now," goaded Lena with an upward nod of her head in the other woman's direction. "I'll be here."

Lana huffed an exhale and retrieved her phone. Maybe if she just powered through it and ignored the doubt it would go away. She made the call.

Lena's gaze centered on Lana, but her mind drifted elsewhere. She wondered what Lillian would say if she knew the extent of her social life. Not that she actually had much of one, but she at least tried to keep in touch with old school acquaintances and maintain good relationships with the fellows. Admittedly, Lena felt odd in this current situation, not really having a template for comfort and sympathy, but she tried her best. That's what normal people did, right?

Lena watched Lana put the phone to her ear and wait. The room was tensely silent for a moment until Lana huffed impatiently and redialed. Nothing happened this time either. Lena looked at the other girl sympathetically as she pursed her lips and clenched her jaw in frustration.

"Shit," hissed Lana. Putting her phone back into her pocket, she made her way to the door.

Lena followed. Back out in the hallway leading to the expo, she was hit with more noise than she'd anticipated. The normal din from the idle chatter of hundreds of people was to be expected, but this was significantly louder. Before she could catch up to Lana and get her to settle down, they were met by one of the other fellows. She came jogging down into the edge of the hallway after pushing her way through a small crowd, her long black ponytail swinging behind her.

"There you guys are," Sitara declared in a huff. "Everyone's been looking for you."

"Why?" said Lana a little too forcefully. Lena sighed at her friend's irritability. "We haven't been gone that long."

Sitara looked back and forth between the two girls, raising an eyebrow at the redhead. "You don't know what's going on."

Lena looked up and down the hallway for any clues. Most had retreated into the main hall, so she found none. "Did something happen inside?"

"No," Sitara replied as she started to lead them back into the main hall, "but something happened outside."

Sitara continued to lead them inward, aggressively pushing her way through the crowds of people back toward the general area they'd been before. In the middle of the hall was a large cylindrical column with monitors mounted high around it. Sitara pointed up at them. They were all playing the same thing, and gave Lena a sense of déjà vu. On the screen was an oddly shaped aircraft suspended in midair with no visible means of propulsion. It was an aerial shot, shaky and just a bit out of focus, but it got the job done. The headline toward the bottom of the screen read: UNIDENTIFIED AIRCRAFT ABOVE GOTHAM BAY.

Lena looked at Lana, whose expression was practically unreadable. No confusion or surprise, just a look of mild preoccupation on her face. Lena looked back at the screens and raised her voice so Sitara could hear her.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Sitara nodded, passing Lena her phone. It was open on the young woman's Twitter feed, refined with the search for the hashtag #gothamUFO . Lena scrolled quickly through the dozens of tweets that were already up, completely baffled. This was becoming the year of the impossible.

/

Faora could feel herself slipping away, hovering between consciousness and unconsciousness in a relentless haze of agony. Lying on the concrete amidst the glowing rocks and scattered metal, she remembered her days training at the citadel in Kandor. The higher levels were grueling, to put it lightly, and some types of mental and physical conditioning were tantamount to torture. But this was something else entirely. All the pain that came from training was bearable in the way that she could feel it being done to her. It came from the outside. Now, her own body was betraying her, attaining new levels of pain from the inside out. Even when staring down a weapon, she felt confident in her ability to survive. All she felt now was fear.

A loud crash rocked her eardrums and shocked her back into awareness. With vision still blurred, Faora made the herculean effort to get back on her feet. Burning muscles and a wave of nausea said her body wouldn't let her. She was weaker than she'd ever been in her life, and at most she could only crawl. Eventually, Faora found the focus to see what had made the sound, and was relieved to find her general regarding her with a calculating expression. He'd received her distress beacon.

Relief faded into panic as he floated closer with an obvious handle on some of his newfound abilities.

[Wait! Don't come closer!] Faora croaked. The sound tore through her throat like shattered glass and elicited a look of confusion from the other Kryptonian. [The rocks…they cause pain.]

The blood and sweat that clung to her exposed skin served as ample evidence, but all Zod needed was to see the anguish in his lieutenant's eyes. His eyes darted across the warehouse quickly, scanning his surroundings. Then he went to work.

Giving Faora a wide berth, Zod floated over and dislodged one of the cables from where it was bolted into the floor. He looked into his lieutenant's eyes with a rare softness; he detested seeing her in unnecessary pain. It took a few tries to whip the cable over to get it within her reach without hitting her, but he managed. Once Faora had a good enough grip on the cable, Zod pulled her to him and took her into his arms. She clung to him with newfound strength as he flew them out the way he came, into the sunlight and back towards the warship.