The alarms still blared as Lana and Lena jogged from the stairs across the open hall and into the lobby. Lana had expected to run into some sort of tumultuous cacophony, but the main floor was almost empty save for the stragglers still evacuating from the front. The expo hall was toward the back of the building. Hopefully most of the attendees had exited that way.
Lana's phone buzzed in her back pocket and she immediately retrieved it. She'd hoped it was Clark finally getting back to her, but her face fell upon the realization that it wasn't. A ten-digit number flashed on the screen, and despite it not being saved she recognized the caller. Fear, anger, and dread collided in her chest with total disregard for everything she was already feeling. One tap of the volume button stopped the buzzing. She pocketed it and trotted toward the front set of doors with Lena in tow before hearing the door to the staircase on the other side of the lobby slam.
Quick, deliberate footsteps came to meet them. The Luthors had finally made their way down. Lillian's pace created a lively staccato, heels making themselves known as she poured even quicker hushed tones into the phone she was holding against her ear. She, Lex, and Lionel angled their paths to meet with the two younger girls on their way to the exits.
"Is everyone out already?" called Lex.
"Looks like it," answered Lena. "What's going on?"
Lionel's face was the quintessence of controlled emotion. His tone was even. "That floating vessel above the bay turned hostile. Lower New Troy is suffering the attack, but it's only a matter of time until it moves on from there."
"That's not far from here," said Lana. Lionel gave her a grim look.
"You're right. And what's more, there have been similar attacks all over the world. I suggest you come with us, Miss Lang."
Once they were outside, the scene simultaneously became clearer and less so. Car horns blared amidst bumper-to-bumper traffic, the sidewalk was riddled with running passersby, and all of that was almost drowned out by the not-so-distant booms coming from the south. Lana was baffled by the Luthors' ability to keep calm. As it was, she was rapidly losing composure and had no idea how long she'd be able to keep it together.
She thought of Clark. Her earlier worries seemed even more trivial now. Lena had been right the whole time, and she'd worried for nothing. Clark had surely left for this, and it had nothing to do with her. But now Lana had an awful feeling. This was more serious than anything they'd ever seen, and she hoped to everything good that they could all get out of this in one piece.
"Do we know if the other fellows are safe?" asked Lionel, starting northward up the block. The rest followed. "Have either of you been in contact with them?"
Lena answered. "I've sent a group message but nobody responded yet."
Lana weaved between the pedestrians littering the sidewalk, keeping pace but bringing up the rear. Only after a minute of walking did she realize they were headed to their apartment building. She didn't need to wait long for an explanation.
"He's already on the helipad," said Lillian to her husband. "We should pick up the pace."
So this was the Luthors' personal evacuation plan. Lana counted herself lucky to have come across them in the middle of all this. Upon arriving she saw that there were still people milling in the lobby, and didn't know whether to be surprised or not. There was no alarm sounding like there had been at LuthorCorp Tower, but at least some seemed to have evacuated. Lana had half a mind to pull the fire alarm, but chickened out. The party of five marched straight to the elevators.
The ride to the top floor was tense. No one said a word, but Lana saw a different expression on all the others' faces. Lena looked preoccupied, worried with something on her mind; Lionel wore a hard, determined look; Lillian looked almost angry; Lex's face was blank. Lana wasn't sure what she was feeling, but she was tightly strung and ready to snap.
Her phone began buzzing again, and with a sharp spike of anger she whipped it out and declined the call. Glancing around her, Lana caught Lena's eyes. The younger woman looked away, suddenly interested in the floor buttons. The elevator reached its destination.
The top floor was empty. At a brisk pace they all followed Lionel down the long hallway adjacent to the elevators. Lana's phone buzzed a third time.
She gritted her teeth and relented. Dropping back a few steps but still keeping pace with the group, she answered.
"What do you want?" she hissed into the receiver.
"Lana?" came a woman's voice on the other side.
"What is it, Mom?"
"Are...are you okay?"
Lana's fingers held her phone in a death grip. She kept her tone low and her breathing even. "Fine."
"I've been watching the news. I heard what's happening in Metropolis and wanted -"
"I haven't heard from you since graduation, and it was even longer before that. I guess since the world's ending you finally remembered you have a daughter, huh?"
A heavy sigh came through the phone. "You so obviously wanted space. I thought it best to indulge you."
"Oh, how gracious of you," Lana spat. "This is supposed to be my fault, is it?"
"Lana, please, it's not anyone's fault -"
"It most definitely is, and that's the part you never seem to get!"
Silence. And then, "Are we really doing this now?"
"You called me in the middle of a disaster, I'm not so far from the action, have been this close to losing my mind and we have no idea if we'll actually make it out of this unscathed. So yeah, I guess we're fucking doing this now."
Lana continued to follow behind the Luthors, turning right along the corridor. It was almost labyrinthine. She didn't think the design was emergency-friendly, but then again neither was taking the elevator.
"What's happening over there?"
Lana huffed. "Big UFO over Gotham Bay appeared out of nowhere, then started attacking and blowing the bottom part of New Troy to bits. That about sums it up."
"UFO as in aliens? That's ridiculous."
"Nobody knows what the fuck it is. The 'U' in UFO stands for 'unidentified.' But unless you've been under a rock the past few months, you've heard of that guy who can literally fly. So maybe amend your standards a little."
"Are you evacuating?" There was a persistent echo on the other end of the call. Lana pressed on.
"No, I fully intend to just stand and watch the whole thing go down in the middle of the street."
There was shuffling in the background. "There's no need for the attitude, Lana. I just wanted to know you were okay."
"Well I could've done without this phone call today so I guess we're both disappointed. My well-being was never that important before so why now?" No answer. More shuffling and unintelligible noise. Lana refused to continue ignoring it. "Am I on speaker? Who else is there?"
There was silence again. Lana and the others finally got to the stairwell on the other end of the floor. Halfway up the stairs, she was ready to hang up but then heard an answer.
"Your father's here too."
Lana froze mid-step, heart jolting in her ribcage. Every muscle in her body tensed all at once, and her jaw clenched tight enough to grind her teeth together. She was shaking. Lena and the Luthors continued up the stairs, seemingly unaware.
"Fuck this. And fuck you for calling me."
"Wait, please don't hang up y-"
"How can you stand the sight of him after everything he's done! His presence alone makes me want to vomit and crawl in a hole and the only reason I didn't make a whole fucking scene last time was because Clark and Martha were there and they don't know a damn thing." Lana was almost hyperventilating now, speaking twice as fast as normal.
"He's still your father. He just wants-"
"I don't give a shit what he wants!" Lana's voice was high and thin with the strain of barely maintained control. "He put you in the hospital for a week, but did he help pay those bills? No, I did. The last time I was alone with him he locked me in the goddamn storm cellar! I'd take the situation I'm in right now over anything that has to do with him. He doesn't deserve to be called family. And I hope he fucking heard that."
"We just wanted to know you were safe, Lala," said a much deeper voice.
The unmistakable timbre of his voice forced a wave of nausea through Lana's already churning stomach. Lala. It was a nickname from when she was very young. As a toddler, she hadn't been able to pronounce her name properly, and it came out like "Lala." It stuck, and hearing him use it now was the most revolting thing she'd ever heard.
Lana immediately hung up the phone and blocked the number thereafter. Her hands shook like the rest of her. Blood pounded in her ears. Her heart was in her throat. A rapidly-forming ache throbbed in her skull. Shoulders rose and fell with breaths she couldn't slow. The whir of helicopter blades echoed through the stairway. She was half a flight of stairs away from the door to the roof, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Everything was so loud. Why was everything so fucking loud?
"Where's Lana?" came a muffled voice she could barely register. The door opened and Lena stepped through. An open, unguarded look of concern washed over the brunette's features as she came back down the stairs to meet Lana.
"Lana?" she asked softly. "What's wrong?"
Lana could still feel herself shaking, the incontrovertible evidence of the rage and resentment of having kept it together for too long. Somewhere in the depths of her heart Lana was thankful for her friend's concern. But it wasn't Lena she wanted right then.
It was Clark.
His warmth, his loyalty, his steadfastness...that's what she needed. But he was needed elsewhere. Lena spoke again.
"Lana, I'm sorry, but we have to go."
Lana squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. She drew her breath steadily, and forced it out in a long, drawn out hiss. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."
Lana followed Lena onto the roof.
/
Clark's eyes opened slowly, lids heavy and vision far from clear. All he knew in his haze was a powerful, blunt ache that made his head pound and muscles pulse in a painful throb. He felt like he was upright, but he wasn't standing. Only then did he become aware that he was restrained.
His arms were bent at odd angles and he couldn't move them. All he could see were blurry masses of color that told he wasn't alone. Panic would have set in if pain and exhaustion hadn't already taken over his entire being. Clark didn't know where he was or what was about to happen, but it didn't matter. He no longer had the strength to do anything regardless.
[You're taking too long,] said Faora tightly.
Clark heard Dev's response from his right. [I can follow your direction, but I'm not an expert. Would you like to set this up while simultaneously keeping our subject weak with this mineral? If you think you'll be able to, by all means have at it.]
[A few moments make no difference, dear Faora,] came Zod's voice with a bit of mirth. [Better he do it right than quickly.]
Faora grumbled. [We shouldn't waste time. I...have a bad feeling.]
Clark's eyes finally adjusted, and he could see the danger before him. Two Kryptonians and a Daxamite in an enclosed yet spacious area, and he was bound to some metal apparatus. His stomach still throbbed from the earlier stab wound. Weak struggling was all he could muster. Dev looked at him with what was almost pity.
[No point trying to resist now,] he said, waving the sharp piece of glowing rock, still with Clark's blood on it. [It's over, my friend.]
Zod and Faora both stood on the far side of the room, the general close to the exit and his lieutenant at his side. Faora's unhidden anticipation made Clark's blood run cold. He had to escape somehow. Nothing and no one else stood a ghost of a chance against them. And worse, they meant to use him to subjugate his own home as another empty puppet no different from what they had done to Jax. If he failed here, everything as he knew it would die.
But something so small and simple as a jagged piece of rock kept him in place.
[You don't have to help me,] Clark mumbled to Dev, [but why help them? You don't think you're worth anything to them, do you?]
Dev chuckled, but it was Faora who scoffed and answered. [Desperate musings from someone about to be wiped from existence. Goodbye, son of Jor-El.]
Dev held the glowing shard in his hand closer to Clark, who tried to shrink away despite having nowhere to go. He felt lightheaded, but also like his insides were boiling at the same time. The Daxamite touched the restraints once more and then took a step back. [It's done.]
Dev moved sideways as Faora strode up to Clark. Her eyes held a predatory gleam. Clark still felt weak having been in close range of it for a while, but he struggled against his restraints all the same. If she felt comfortable enough to come closer, then Dev and his radioactive weapon were far enough that she wouldn't be hurt. Clark's arms were bent partially behind him to further restrict movement, but...the bonds felt looser somehow. Faora fiddled behind him with whatever controlled the apparatus, and Clark turned once again to Dev.
[If they could do what they did to Jax, don't you think they'll do it to you too?] Clark's voice was strained and desperate, laid completely bare. He could feel his heart pounding, his stomach tightening amidst the adrenaline rush, and the creak of the restraints as he gathered as much strength as he could. Zod had not moved. Faora remained silent. The machine began to hum. Dev held Clark's gaze for another moment, and finally, after what seemed like forever, he smiled.
[I believe you're right.]
Dev moved faster than Clark's fatigued eyes could follow, but the aftermath offered full clarity. A resounding thud filled the room and Zod was thrown backward into the far corner, the sharp piece of rock Dev once had now embedded in his chest. The general slumped to the ground with a groan and a wheeze. Dev sped out of the room in a blur.
Clark expected an immediate response from Faora, but it never happened. A harsh gurgling sound came from beside him, and he saw the weak spray of blood before she eventually came into view. Faora stumbled forward and fell to her knees, hands clutching at her neck. They were almost completely covered in blood.
Dev must have slashed her throat open before stabbing the general. Raw, desperate gasps tore themselves from her body and scraped against the air. Her skin was even more pallid now than it had been. Her grip lessened, her strength waned, and the blood flowed more and more freely onto the floor.
Complete and utter shock somehow energized Clark. He pulled again and finally tore from the restraints to stumble and sway into precarious footing. Still unbalanced, he left Zod and Faora and sped after Dev.
Confusion and desperation won out over common sense. Clark followed the sound of the Daxamite's movements until he found him one level below, hunched on the far side of a cramped room filled with important-looking machinery.
[Oh, good. You're alive,] called Dev with a chuckle, before turning his attention back to what looked like a control console.
[What is wrong with you?] said Clark. His voice dripped with awe and disgust. [Whose side are you on?]
[Only ever my own. I did say I was manipulating you, didn't I? You seem like a decent fellow, so playing you was easy. But playing them required much more convincing. You're welcome.]
Clark listened for danger. So far, there was no cause for alarm. That worried him. It had looked to be the end of Zod and Faora, but by now Clark knew better than to take anything for granted. [What are you doing?]
[Solving our little Kryptonian problem. I'd advise you to get off this thing soon unless you'd like to be introduced to the Phantom Zone.]
Clark watched tensely as the Daxamite fiddle with the console. Thankfully his stomach was fully healed now and he could breathe easily. [So now you're helping again. Why should I believe anything you say now?]
[I don't care what you believe, but you want to save this planet, yes?] Clark clenched his jaw and left the question unanswered. [This was always the plan. But you Kryptonians are more powerful than I am and I've been outnumbered since we were freed. This star system gives me power, but I could not get here without them and still couldn't count on escaping three of you. Imagine my elation when I found something that can hurt you but not me.]
[So why not just disappear? Why help me before?]
[Most would be more thankful and less chatty in this situation.] Dev finally stopped and turned to face him. Clark gave an expectant look. [Zod asked me to manipulate you if the opportunity presented itself, and I chose to make that work for me. But further, I don't like being a witness to subjugation. I took care of it on Daxam as well.]
Clark heard movement from upstairs. Dev seemed to take notice as well. [We're out of time.]
Dev thrust his hand onto the console. [So are they.]
All around them the ship began to emit a low hum, and then the lights blew out. The controls began to glow, a dim white casting a glare over the room and shrouding Dev in a pale outline.
[The rest is up to you, Kryptonian.]
Dev sped past Clark through the entrance and was gone. Clark, not wanting to wait for company, shot straight up through the ceiling and didn't stop until he met the sky. Deep breaths were a small remedy as he basked in the fresh air and warm sunlight that greeted him. Looking back, he saw a small vessel rocketing farther and farther away from the warship. No doubt it held the duplicitous Daxamite as he made his escape. But Clark had no time to be wary of any future dealings with him. The ship began to shimmer and fade like a ghost.
Clark was somewhere above the lower end of Metropolis, but couldn't bring himself to look down just yet. So much damage had been caused in so little time. If he tried to take stock now, it would be a terrible distraction.
Zod's ship flickered and flashed, and then finally vanished. Clark held his breath, listening and waiting. It didn't return, and a relieved exhale forced its way from his lungs.
But the relief was short-lived.
The ship was gone and yet Zod was still in this dimension, falling rapidly through the air and unfortunately back in the sunlight. His current condition was grim, but would soon be reversed. Faora was nowhere to be seen.
Clark descended to the ground below him, but not before Zod himself crashed onto the concrete. A fog of dust permeated the whole area, a blanket covering tons of debris. Clark blew it away. There weren't many people in his field of view, and those he did see were fleeing from the area as fast as they could. Some were injured and others were mostly fine, but Clark resolved not to look too hard. He knew that if he x-rayed the buildings all he'd find were the dead, and he could not bring himself to use his other senses to focus on civilians. Another distraction, and he'd be leaving Zod with the opportunity to cause even more irreparable damage. He had to end this.
Clark flew across the expanse of rubble and torn concrete, what used to be the main street leading down to the very end of New Troy. The southwestern edge of Gotham Bay was close by; Metropolis was lucky that the warship's attack hadn't reached too far inland. Clark stopped several meters from where Zod landed. The general took a deep, shaky breath and clamored to his feet. Hard, dark eyes found Clark and bored into him. It gave Clark tunnel vision. Nothing else mattered.
The entropy of fate favors both none and all. The old adage floated to the front of Zod's mind in his haze of resentment and rage. It was a well-known saying. Jor-El used to use it often, and for Zod it was irrevocably tied to the man he'd once called friend. It was meant to give perspective, to remind oneself that the universe is impartial to the goings-on of any life form. That life is dictated by choices, both individually and collectively, not some higher, all-encompassing force.
Zod had always found it contradictory. How could a culture where the thought of Rao, a divine and omnipotent being, had permeated all aspects of life to the point of being ingrained in the very soul of its people believe it had no say in their lives. In truth, the presence of Rao had not demanded an organized religion the way other civilizations had established (at least not planet-wide, despite there being small overzealous factions here and there). There were no prayer rites, no holy days of obligation or celebration, just a passive belief of Rao's existence as truth.
None of that ever helped Zod get by. None of it gave any meaning to life or offered any solace amidst confusion and failure. How often had Zod and people like him strived to ameliorate the wrongs enforced by the structure of Kryptonian society? How often had he tried to make the Council see reason? How often had he tried to save his people? Yet at every turn, Zod had been spurned and beaten - even betrayed - one way or another.
He was given a chance at freedom - at redemption! The details were less than ideal to begin with but there it was, the opportunity to build a Krypton that would have surpassed the old in every way imaginable. It had practically fallen into his hands. Of course, the short term was dealing with his liberator, but beyond that stretched a vision of development and advancement spearheaded by his direction. Yet it all came undone because of a piece of rock and an abandoned son who knew nothing of Kryptonian culture, a direct product of the Council's misdeeds.
Jor had been wrong. There was a higher power involved, and it must be toying with him.
[Kal-El,] gritted Zod, [Krypton's last son. Privileged, weak, disgraceful. You are a stain upon your heritage.]
Kal continued to stride forward. [Weren't you imprisoned for leading a failed revolution?] he called. [You obviously weren't satisfied. How can you hold so much pride for a civilization you wanted to change so desperately?]
[It was because of that pride that I wanted to change it!] screamed Zod. [So it could endure! Krypton deserved to flourish and have its splendor renowned across galaxies, and yet your father and the Council, who so proclaimed to love it so much, betrayed me and our people and let it burn out of existence!]
Kal's face took on an image of pity, and it enraged Zod even further. The physical pain had subsided, but everything else he felt fueled the conflagration inside him.
[What does my father have to do with this?] said Kal. He looked wary, his tone tentative.
Zod wheezed and hissed, standing up to full height. [We spent years trying to convince the Council to see reason, but they refused to acknowledge fact. Yet when I asked for his help in building resistance against the Council, he turned me away. When I longed for his valued counsel, again he denied me. And just before my imprisonment, I implored him to devise with me a plan to evacuate all from our doomed home. He told me it was no longer worth trying. He'd given up, turned his back on his people, but evidently cared just enough to make sure you survived. How lucky you are to have been the object of Jor's affection, when he had since ceased caring for everyone else.]
Kal took a few steps forward. [I never knew my father. But after your time here I can say with all certainty that he made the right choices.]
Neither made a move on the other yet, but it was no small feat for Zod to keep his fury contained.
[Everything that I've done, no matter how violent or how cruel, was for the good of our home,] pressed Zod. [We could have built it anew in this unrefined squalor and now you, as the Council once was, are responsible for its destruction. Krypton will not live again, because of you. I have no home, because of you. My life, my culture, and my reason for being are all lost, BECAUSE OF YOU!]
Zod launched himself at Kal hard enough to crack the concrete beneath him, and slammed a fist into his chest to send him careening through the ground floor of an already dilapidated building. He didn't stop, flying low to the ground in hot pursuit until he came upon him again amidst rebar and rubble. Hands made for war pummeled the decided do-gooder. Splashes of blood spurred them on. Glass and metal fell all around them, but Zod paid no mind to anything except the retraction of his fists and their surges downward. The force of every blow tunneled them further into the ground. Kal's attempts to fight back were pitiful. Did he really think he could save this world when he couldn't save himself?
Bloodied fingers gripped Kal around the neck and dragged him upward as Zod took flight. Burrowing up through the falling debris and crumbling foundation of the building, he made his way back out into the open air. Then, with incredible speed, Zod rocketed toward the ground and planted Kal into the middle of the street.
Zod stood over him, maliciousness radiating in waves. He could barely think of Kal as Kryptonian, and resolved not to. He refused to consider someone so pathetic as kin. Kal groaned and squirmed, attempting to get up. A swift kick to the jaw sent him back to the ground a few meters away.
[You were born on Krypton, but you are of Earth. You don't know what it means to lose that which makes you who you are.] Zod's voice carried the cold, commanding tone his subordinates had once been used to. [But you will learn.]
Heat vision surged to full power and laid waste to everything he could see. The only things Zod knew were the heat in his eyes and the snarl on his face. The hole carved out of his soul consumed him, the maelstrom that led to the abyss. He was sunlight funneled through a magnifying glass aimed at dry matter, and the conflagration that would surely ensue was close at hand. First, he would tear these cities apart. And then, amidst the destruction, he would descend upon these humans - those precious and fragile beings Kal so proclaimed to be his people. He would take them from him, one by one, and force him to bear witness.
/
Lana had never been in a helicopter before. It was nothing at all like riding in a plane, and if she hadn't still been mentally preoccupied, she would have been desperate to land. She didn't feel the need to ask where they were going either. Instead, she furiously scrolled on her phone to see if there were any developments in news coverage on the mayhem going on downtown. If it served to distract her from everything else, all the better. Beside her, Lena was doing the same.
There wasn't much going on in the way of conversation between the passengers, but Lana wouldn't have initiated anyway. Lionel was trying to get in touch with Mercy to no avail, and Lana had never warmed up to Lillian's presence. She wouldn't have known what to say regardless. The only thing Lana could focus on was wondering what Clark was doing. She'd seen photos and shaky, blurry videos of the commotion from people all around the world. Clark had been in Tokyo not too long ago and as close as Gotham even more recently. He'd even been mentioned in emergency broadcasts, some of which were taken from other helicopters close to the area.
"The UFO is gone," said Lena suddenly, a look of both concentration and alarm on her face. She looked at everyone, getting their attentions. "The other fellows responded and they're okay, but they're saying it's gone. I checked the live news updates and it's true. It just disappeared."
Lex craned his neck to peer out the window, though there was no way they'd be able to see much from their position in the sky. Lillian did the same. Lionel only looked at Lena.
"What else is going on down there?" he asked. Lena consulted her phone once more and Lana, sitting next to her, looked as well.
"Something or someone is still causing damage and destruction in lower New Troy and giving…Superman…a lot of trouble."
"Superman?" the rest of the passengers chorused incredulously.
"Uh, yeah," answered Lena in a low, timid voice. "That's what they're calling him now. On social media. Even the Daily Planet is using the name."
It was silent for a moment, then came Lionel's input. "Well it is catchy and easy to remember."
"Beats 'The Flying Man,'" said Lex. "And now the 'S' on his chest will make sense."
Lana hadn't come across it in her perusal of news, but didn't doubt Lena. Searching for the new moniker, she immediately found a hashtag that, despite not yet trending, was inundated with hundreds of posts. Lana wasn't so sure about the name, and was even less sure of how Clark would react when he found out, but that wasn't the important part. Her fear had been realized: the world had begun to acknowledge and adopt him as a figure to look to. This crux of the crisis was here in Metropolis, but it had reached all around the world. All of Earth would truly know him now, and they couldn't take it back. They just had to get through this ordeal and then she and Clark would be free to deal with-
"NO!"
Lena's warning shout echoed against every corner of the cabin, but nothing could have prepared any of them for what happened next. A bright red light illuminated Lana's field of vision and something collided with the back end of the cabin, tearing right through the tail. What remained of the helicopter snapped left and pitched forward, sending them spinning and falling toward the ground. Lana's stomach lurched as the rest of her body was shoved against the side windows. Plummeting in free fall finally dislodged her mind and threw it into full panic. This was how she was going to die - nose-diving in a broken helicopter she should have never been in. Her last conversation with Clark was going to be a callous misunderstanding. She'd never told Martha how much she loved her, and valued her as a mother figure. All she could do was recognize herself as an assemblage of amassed fears, regrets, and resentments that never measured up to the person she'd always wanted to be, the person the two people who loved her knew she could be. She shut her eyes against reality. It didn't matter now. Everything was about to be over.
But then it wasn't.
The cabin slowed its descent, and was suddenly right side up. They all continued down and somehow also forward, gliding among trees until they were finally set down in Centennial Park. Lana's heart beat rhythmically in her throat, and judging by the shocked, crazed looks on everyone's faces, they felt similarly.
"So, uh," the pilot began, "everyone good back there?"
No one answered. Shaky gasps and deep, heavy breaths were the only response.
The right side door opened from the outside, or rather, it was ripped off. The creak of tearing metal slammed them back down to reality, and Lana was both relieved and terrified by what came next.
Clark's head entered the space of the doorway, but his face was nothing like Lana had ever seen it. His left cheekbone looked swollen. Blood and dirt coated the other side of his face, and his lips were split in multiple places. Even his nose was crooked. He looked beaten and battered, which was something Lana didn't think was possible. Her brain refused to acknowledge what her eyes were telling it, to internalize the implications of the problem. It was so much worse than what she'd initially believed. The extent of the danger was now clear. Who or whatever was responsible for the global attacks was, at least, just as powerful as Clark.
Lana locked eyes with him. A look of surprised shock hit his face, but disappeared in an instant. "Is anyone badly injured?"
He was met with tentative shaking heads. Lionel looked around at the others.
"No, I think we're all fine now," he said. Clark nodded solemnly.
"Thank you," breathed Lana, eyes boring into him. She wanted to say more, something that would tell him everything she felt in that moment. An 'I love you' or a 'be careful.' But she couldn't, not in present company. So she stayed silent, and looked him in the eyes with everything she was. He gave her a small, unguarded smile in return.
"You're welcome." He then addressed the cabin as a whole. "You need to get out of the open as quickly as possible. Get somewhere inside and stay there. Don't-"
Clark's head whipped to the side, attention suddenly elsewhere. Then he was gone in a blur that sucked the wind out of the cabin. A flash of bright red met Lana's eyes again, but this time the glow didn't stop. A huge, powerful jet of pure energy assaulted the ground several meters, scorching everything it fell upon. Lana could feel the heat from where they were, and was desperate in equal parts to escape the area and stay rooted to where she was.
The blast disappeared as quickly as it came, followed by a loud boom and a thunderous quake of the ground beneath them. Looking out of the doorway she saw Clark and another man, older and dressed in a black suit somewhat reminiscent of Clark's own brighter one, engaged in a brutal brawl. She'd never seen Clark in any kind of physical altercation before. The flagrant display of violence was enough to petrify her, and now she understood why he was always so careful. Destruction looked so easy for him.
Clark planted the other man's face into the ground and hammered his torso with his fists. He held him down as the other struggled against him, and he looked back up in Lana's direction.
"GO!" he screamed.
Finally they listened, each of them clamoring out of the broken helicopter in haste as Clark lost his grip on his adversary. He gave Clark as good as he got, and for the first time Lana felt true fear for her boyfriend. Clark was suddenly flung backwards at incredible speed and disappeared from Lana's view. The older man shifted his focus to their group.
They'd already begun to run the length of the grass toward the end of the park, but despite giving so much effort Lana knew the futility of attempting to escape. She glanced back to see him marching forward. His eyes flickered and then glowed fully red.
Lana's entire body seized up and she threw herself against Lena, who was running beside her. She hit the ground and rolled against her as they were engulfed in another flash of light. There was no pain and she wasn't dead yet, so Lana scrambled to her feet again and pulled Lena with her to race parallel to the line of scorched ground that began mere feet from where they fell. They ran along the smell of burnt grass and soil and Lana looked around frantically to find the others. She couldn't see where the pilot had gotten to. The Luthors were several meters away to the right, running just as they were. Lex was the farthest away, and Lionel brought up the rear. Lana worried for him; despite his speed, his gait was choppy and disjointed.
The ground shook. Lana didn't dare to look back again, but heard more sounds of struggle.
A frustrated growl ripped through Clark's throat. Zod was ruthless and yielding, and it took every ounce of focus for Clark to defend against his attacks. He'd known early on that in terms of fighting and battle prowess he was completely outclassed. More unsettlingly, Zod was learning how to access his abilities very quickly. But there was a silver lining for Clark. Despite Zod's muscle memory and tactical mind, he did not have the finesse required to use his abilities on Clark's level of control. That made him sloppy, and even unfocused at times.
Zod had attacked any and all humans they'd come across during their battle across the city. Admittedly, Clark had been pummeled severely during a lot of it, and hated that he'd been helpless to prevent any more damage. He'd already let Zod make it way too far uptown, and despite saving who he could, there had still been casualties. Clark thanked the universe that, despite not knowing she was in that falling helicopter, he was able to save Lana from death. He'd hoped she'd gotten far away, but somehow she'd ended up in the middle of it. Now his sense of urgency was at an all-time high. There had to be something he could do to get this over with quickly.
Getting Zod away from the city was imperative. Thankfully, Centennial Park was deserted now and Lana's group had cleared the next block, but with Kryptonian speed and strength it didn't matter. There was only one thing Clark was sure would work, but he'd have to do it right.
Clark tensed all over as Zod descended on him again and focused on dodging. By now he had an idea of Zod's fighting style. The general favored head and body shots like a boxer, and had a penchant for grappling. He used heat vision but sporadically, more for outright destruction than well-thought out attacks. To Clark it was obvious. Zod had never trained with powers, and so subconsciously relied on purely physical movement. But that wasn't the most important thing. Zod had been an image of rage and focused fury since Faora and the warship had been forced back to the Phantom Zone. He wasn't worried about finishing him off. He wanted to make Clark suffer.
And Clark could make that work in his favor.
Zod moved in close and missed Clark with a tight uppercut. He stepped and shifted forward to cross with an elbow, but didn't connect. Clark stayed on his toes and floated inches above the ground, twisting and swerving out of Zod's reach in flight instead of shifting his weight back and forth. The lack of contact was getting to Zod, and the speed and strength of his attacks increased with each passing second. Clark kept up, but soon took an elbow to the side of his head that sent him across the park.
Zod was on him again in an instant, slamming him back down as he tried to get up. A knee dropped on Clark's chest knocked the wind out of him, and Zod used the opening to mount him fully. Clark suffered an onslaught of blows to the head. His vision blurred against the blood and dirt, and the throbbing in his skull reached new levels of intensity. Zod yelled something at him, but he couldn't make out what it was. If he didn't get out of this hold, he'd be rendered unconscious soon.
Clark stopped struggling, but did his best to get himself back into focus. As Zod retracted his fist for another punch, Clark gritted his teeth and threw everything he had into one move. A savage blast of heat vision detonated at point-blank range and caught the general full in the face. Zod was launched upward and away from Clark, and seemed to make no move to float or stop his path back down to the ground. He crashed against the grass in a heap.
Clark wasted no time, getting up and shaking off the pain. Flying toward Zod, he reached into the pocket of his suit located on his lower back and retrieved the Zeta teleporter. It was smashed and dented, but miraculously not broken. Not for the first time Clark was grateful for the durability of Kryptonian metals.
Zod, battered and burnt but not unconscious, struggled to his feet. Clark gripped him by the arm as tightly as he could muster, then activated the device.
The Fortress was the same as always, save for Kelex's flying vessel. The whistle of the arctic winds outside the monument filled the open space and for a moment Clark let himself relax. His plan had worked. He'd gotten Zod away from civilians, and got him to the one place on Earth where he'd have the upper hand. All he had to do now was see it through.
Clark looked at the general. Zod was hunched over on his knees, breathing heavily and dripping blood onto the crystal floor. That last attack caused serious damage, but still he held on. Clark took a deep breath, taking mental stock of his own injuries. He was healing as expected, but slowly. Neither was in great shape, but it was clear to Clark that after everything that transpired today, Zod was finally at his mercy.
[It's over, Zod,] said Clark with finality. His tone held an edge bolstered by conviction and exhaustion. [You've lost.]
[If I can still draw breath,] rasped the general, [then it is not over.]
Zod pushed off the ground and flung himself at Clark, but the younger Kryptonian retaliated with a swift thrust of his leg to slam his boot against Zod's neck. Still the general pressed on.
[This place...a piece of Krypton in a foreign world. No doubt preserved and gifted to you by your father, and still you renounce your home! You would have it fade into the unconscious memory of the universe.] This time Zod did not attack, but latched onto Clark's arms with an anguished look in his eyes. [Why?]
Clark gave Zod a look of pity, and wanted to sympathize. But he remembered all that had happened in the past several hours, all he had learned from the archives, and decided the awful taste in his mouth was too fresh to ignore. Earth had always been his home. Krypton had been gone since before he could walk. Having wondered for so long where he came from, finally finding the answer had been satisfying, but it never brought him the solace he craved. It never brought the emotion or the warmth of belonging. Everything he learned was just information, and the longer it went on, the more he thought about Krypton in the context of Earth and what he could do for this planet. For Zod, Clark understood the immense loss he felt. But for Krypton itself, he felt nothing at all.
[Krypton had its chance.] Clark looked at Zod with airy detachment. He'd already tried to offer Zod help, and suffered for that mistake. He would not be moved again. [And so did you.]
Zod finally made it to his feet, but Clark would not indulge him with more fighting. He had had enough.
"Kelex," said Clark solemnly, "you there?"
"Yes, Kal," came the robotic voice immediately. Zod's attention diverted at its name, but Clark wasn't surprised. Having known his father, he would have recognized the artificial intelligence.
"Can you activate the phantom drive in my ship remotely?"
"Yes, but without my vessels I cannot help operate the ship. It will have to be done manually."
"That's fine. It won't be necessary."
Silence fell upon them. Zod's expression turned to one of apprehension, obviously uneasy regarding the conversation in a language he didn't speak. Kelex answered.
"I see."
Clark surged forward and shoved his fist into Zod's side, eliciting a muffled crack as his ribs gave way. Slipping around behind him, Clark brought his forearms down atop the general's shoulders to force him to his knees and into a choke hold.
Zod twisted and struggled against Clark's grip, but couldn't gain the strength or leverage to wrench himself free. Gasps and wheezes turned into strangled screams as the general put everything he could into desperate movements. But it was not enough.
The Fortress became quieter and quieter. Zod's flailing slowed. Yells became grunts. Grunts became labored breaths. The wind outside the layers of crystal howled and ebbed, slipping into just a whisper, and then there was nothing.
General Zod went heavily limp, and Clark dragged him across the open area by the main console and up onto the platform that held his ship. He opened the ovoid-shaped vessel and dumped the unconscious Zod inside.
"Turn it on, Kelex."
He got no answer from the AI, but it complied. The object that brought him to Earth shimmered and flickered out of this plane, and did not return.
Clark stared at where his ship used to be. He felt physically tired. Never had he taxed his body anywhere near as much as he had today. Continually using his powers, fighting, and getting hurt took a toll much greater than expected. But it was over now. He could rest.
With a deep breath, Clark sat down on the edge of the platform. For a few moments, the Fortress was silent and still. Clark took it in, everything around him, and felt a twinge of guilt and sorrow.
"Thanks, Kelex," he said aloud. "I couldn't have done it without you."
The response was immediate and expected. "You're welcome, Kal."
Clark stood and ambled back toward the clearing by the control console to retrieve the Zeta teleporter. A mirthless smile touched his face. "Well...see you around."
He activated the device and disappeared. Kelex answered anyway.
"Goodbye, Kal."