From above, Lois peeked from the rooftop where she rested. The sun, by now, was setting, giving Metropolis a purple and orange light that engulfed the entire city. She kept her eye on the building where Kal rested himself ever since the ship was tossed into the ocean. It was too far away to make out any kind of people that may or may not have been on there.

That was quite a ride, she thought to herself.

There were too many times for her to keep track of her getting herself into situations, but none were ever this life-threatening. At least to this extent. This kind of experience would definitely be one for the books. From what she could see, military choppers continued circling around the area where the alien ship was last seen. Bubbles and erratic patterns of something below the water's surface continued showing. News choppers could only watch from a certain distance, covering the incident with their limited sights delivering their cover. Lois grumbled that she wasn't there.

Without thinking any more about it, she reached into her pocket, equipping her cellphone. Punching the contact number for her father, she heard a familiar voice.

"Ms. Lane."

She nearly dropped her phone. She snapped her attention and saw that it was Kal, hovering in the air slowly approaching her. From what she could gather, Kal took quite a beating. There were numerous bruises on his face and one of his eyes was suffering a swollen purple and yellow swelling. His hair was dampened with heavy sweat that cooled off the heat of taking on those fanatics.

"Lois!"

Lois almost dropped her phone again. Damn. Too many things were happening at once.

"Hello?" she exclaimed without thinking, bringing the phone up to her face.

On the other end, Sam let out a moaning sigh. "Thank God. Are you okay, honey?"

Still panting from everything that was crashing down on her, she answered, "yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm okay."

"What happened? Where are you?"

Looking around her, "I'm uh . . . I'm on a building. . . . I think. There was a, um, the alien. The flying one. The blue fighting one—sorry—took out their engine. There was this large vortex thing that sucked everyone in and . . ." She swiveled her head around, trying to make sense out of it while muttering "Oh, God. I sound high."

"Honey, what happened?" Sam pressed.

"Right. Anyway, he then threw the ship right into the ocean. They're all gone. It's over."

On the other end, Sam remained silent for a moment to his reflections. The alien ship was now gone, and Zod was inevitably no longer a threat. But this other alien was still concerning. He may have helped out and got his daughter out of there, but he was still an alien that had no business being here. This "Kal-El" would have to answer for his actions even if they were noble. He was an alien; he'd have to be debriefed about this happening. Convincing him wouldn't be easy. Even a pursuit would be near impossible.

"Okay," Sam said. "Have you seen the blue-suited man? Do you know where he went?"

"Yeah, he's right here. He just flew up here."

A moment of silence followed, and Sam said, "can you put him on please?"

Lois shot a look at Clark, who furrowed his eyebrows. She held out her phone. "You heard that?"

Nodding, Clark took the phone. "General?"

"So, your plan worked," Sam said.

"Yes, sir," he responded humbly. "They've been sucked through the Phantom Zone."

"And through this so-called 'Phantom Zone', you're certain they can't get out of that?"

"As far as I'm concerned, General."

Sam then looked at the monitor that overlooked the entire precinct of New Troy. There was an object that was detected with the same kind of signatures as the one called "Kal", which flew over to one building. Sam tapped several keys on the console and a heads-up window appeared. In it was an issued order that was coded. The interface than flashed a red dot to where Kal was supposedly located. The other icons that signified all other choppers and submarine out on the coast were now focused on Kal's location.

"Can you confirm that you are still in the city?" Sam asked.

Clark's face paled. He knew where that question was going to lead to. It wasn't over. Not yet. Now, they want him. His appearance still hasn't been cleared. There was a price to pay for even doing a good deed. If he wanted to continue, he'd have to find a way to coexist. He kept repeating to himself that all Sam wanted out of all this was just to talk.

"Yes, sir," Clark answered.

There was no answer. Clark waited for a couple of seconds, but there was still nothing. His stomach was beginning to churn. This was way too long of a delay.

"General?" Clark said.

Nothing.

A low rumbling sound happened. The familiar sound of a helicopter arose again. The whirling growl sounded louder than usual as if there was more than one. Following the noise, Clark saw that every chopper that helped take down Zod's ship was now making their way to his location. So many to count were approaching him, all producing an uneasy sensation.

Anxiety gripped him. It was the same feeling when several people approached him after the Boeing incident. That same uncomfortable impression of so many people staring at him, walking towards him, demanding answers from him because of who he was.

Clark realized what this was. "You want to bring me in."

"You're going to have to come down with us," Sam responded. "We have to debrief you about everything."

The choppers were still making their approach. Clark's inspection picked up their mounted weapons, sending a negative sense of antagonism.

Clark hesitatingly spoke back into the phone. "I'm sorry, General. Not today."

Sam wrinkled his lips tightly. "You will submit yourself, do you understand me? If you won't turn yourself in, we're going to have to take you in by force."

"So, now you're pursuing me," Clark deduced. "After all I've done."

"Why are you here?" Sam demanded.

"Excuse me?"

Sam repeated himself slowly and sternly, "why are you here?"

"I told you," Clark simply answered. "I'm here to help. Just like you."

"Need I remind you that you're not even from here. Your own kind tried to kill us today, and you won't even cooperate. You expect us to just let you wander free after that?"

"My own kind was stopped because of what we did today, General. Had it not been for me, your daughter would've been killed."

"Then answer me!" Sam shouted. "What is it that you want from us? You said you came here to help. But what is it that you want from us?"

Clark took a sigh. "I want to help because of what I can do. You saw what I can do, General. You've looked at the tapes, you saw how I can lift a truck."

"And I saw what else your own kind can do. Shoot lasers. Level buildings. Collateral damage."

Clark's tone darkened. "This is beginning to sound like an interrogation. I'm not comfortable the way this conversation's going."

"If you hang up," Sam warned. "You will be an enemy of the United States Army."

Clark looked into Lois' eyes. He had trusted her since the moment he worked with her, and he was beyond certain that

The choppers were getting closer and closer. At any second, they would treat with him with hostility, no doubt.

In a panic, Clark handed the phone back to Lois, who had a worried expression.

"What'd he say?" Lois asked.

Clark said hastily, "I need you to tell them that I did everything I could to make sure that nobody was hurt today."

"Wait, where are you going?" she said.

"I didn't ask for surrendering myself. This is starting to look like an arrest."

Lois then released a disbelieving scoff. "Speak for yourself," she argued. "You just saved my ass."

Clark replied with a winking smile that would've made Lois proud. Immediately afterward, he launched himself in the air with a sonic boom, leaving behind a minor shock wave that blew wind in Lois' face.

Sam's muscles tightened in anger; he swore that he almost slammed his hand on the console top. The speed of Kal was undeniably incredible. The calculations of Kal's quickness was beyond any other fighter jet in the entire military arsenal's records.

Tensing his brows, Sam pressed the headset against his ear, so he'd be heard loud and clear. "You track him and find out where he's going. And don't lose him."

"Roger," the pilot answered, knowing fully well that General Lane would've had their ranks for breakfast if they didn't deliver their results.

In less than a minute time, the choppers drew themselves close enough to where their wind blowing blades scraped alongside her skin, sending more goosebumps along with the already chilly afternoon temperature. Shielding her face from the rapid breeze, she squinted to catch one of the choppers landing just several yards away from her. Within the interior, one soldier lowered himself and made a soft landing out of the chopper with an armed assault rifle. Lois' sight of it was unnerving, but it was understandable. Aliens did just attack the city.

"Ma'am!" the soldier cried out through the chopper's blades.

Lois nearly rolled her eyes. She really hated being called that other than the other dreaded title: "lady".

"Did you see where he was flying?" he asked.

On one hand, Lois was irritated that they wanted his location and disregarding the fact that he just saved all their lives, including the daughter of their superior.

"I don't know," Lois answered. And that was the truth. "He just took off in that direction," she said, aiming a finger in the direction where she did in fact last see him, knowing well enough that their chances of catching him were very slim. She could've smiled at that but knew better.

Clark steered himself from New Troy and soon, Metropolis itself was becoming a murky blur. He knew he wasn't going as fast as he intended, but he blamed the soreness from the earlier crisis. It was, however, reassuring that he was plenty sure he was still faster than all those military aircraft that was no doubt onto him. He knew they wouldn't let him go just as easy. He was an alien. This all put a slight smile on his face. It was mischievous, but he felt proud of himself. He saved people and the entire world all in one day. It wasn't easy, but it happened. Maybe this entire legacy of the House of El wasn't so bad to maintain after all.

It was, however, disheartening knowing what he had to do against Zod and his radicals. He remembered seeing the horror of his wife being pulled into a world with no beginning or end. It wasn't murder, he kept repeating to himself. Zod did say that it acted as a prison sentence back on Krypton, so Clark's actions would be in accordance.

Jonathan punched Clark's number after so many tries he lost count. It seemed pointless to leave a voicemail or a text. Clark wasn't the type to just simply ignore a missed call that involved a voicemail or text. Something was wrong. Ever since he and Martha caught the news of the ship's crash into the Metropolis Atlantic seaside, Jonathan couldn't leave his phone alone. Martha refused to leave her husband's side agonizingly waiting for her son's voice that wasn't an automated message.

Tensions rose in the household, and pants and exasperated sighs echoed.

"Pick up, Clark, pick up," Jonathan whispered in a maddening mantra.

Frustrating minutes followed and a low whoosh sounded. On instinct, Jonathan and Martha snapped their heads up and gazed out onto the front lawn, which was visible through their screen door. Naturally, this was to be ignored as it wasn't uncommon for a plane to fly over them. This was different. Unlike the typical sounds of a plane, the booming loudened quicker. This was too fast for a plane, which only meant one thing.

Jonathan and Martha bolted out through the front door porch danced down the steps. Looking upward, they could see one tiny spec heading towards them. Relief smothered them knowing that this was the signal of their son.

Seconds proceeded and the spec grew and morphed into the shape of a man flying with his arms outward, his cape flapping wildly.

Clark gradually dropped his speed as well as his altitude. He adjusted himself to where he could meet with his parents who were only a couple of yards away, sending a slight breeze from that slower fly.

Martha threw her arms around her son. Her hug was so rough, it felt as if it was a tackle. So much so that even Clark could feel her inferior pressure against his body.

"Thank God," she whispered to herself. "Honey, are you okay? Why didn't you answer your phone? Your father kept calling you."

"Martha," Jonathan calmed.

"I'm okay, Ma," Clark assured. "I'm okay. Everything is okay. It's over."

Martha released her grasp and looked at her son. "Oh, God. Honey, your eye. What the hell happened to you?"

Clark's thoughts betrayed him to find the proper answer for that. "I, uh . . . I got into a fight."

"Don't ever go dark on us again, understand?"

He wasn't a little boy anymore, but this could've killed him. Completely understanding his mother's state of mind, Clark nodded. "Okay," he said calmly.

Jonathan approached his family and took notice of Clark's outfit. "Let me see that."

Breaking away from Martha's hug, Clark stood proudly with his cape swaying in a barely noticeable breeze. Jonathan and Martha marveled at this sight. The suit was a shining blue made of a fabric they've never seen before. They've seen it before but never worn. They had assumed it was another suit that his parents were meant to wear if they were alive today. Seeing Clark wear it felt more natural and more meaningful. If he was a representative of that House, then it would make sense for him to bear it.

Clark broke their gaze. "Like it? Think it's too blue?"

"No," they answered simultaneously in the exact same simple tone.

"So, what happened?" Jonathan asked.

Clark spent at least five minutes recapping. He informed them about his potential newfound friendship with Lois, his first day as a reporter, and hesitantly—the entire ordeal with Zod. He painstakingly left out the bit where he felt sympathetic towards Zod. Sending him to the Phantom Zone was the only way to stop him, and it wasn't going to be any easier for him.

"Clark," Jonathan interrupted. His expression implied that Clark may have done something wrong. "Are they after you?"

Clark sighed. For all intents and purposes, he was a fugitive regardless of his deeds. "Yeah," he answered modestly. "But it's not like they were going to let me go anyway. They were planning on taking me in the minute Zod was eliminated."

"Listen, Clark," Jonathan said, his head slightly hanging. We're very proud of you, and you are right. Had it not been for you, we wouldn't be here. You saved a lot of lives today. But running away from the authorities is irresponsible."

Clark pursed his lips in regret. He heavily agreed with that statement, but he had enough for one day. He had started his first day at work, among more things that would drain anybody by the end of the day. "I know," he said. "I didn't know what to do. The general—he said I was like them. He was right. Then he said he had to debrief me." He scoffed. "After everything that happened today, I just had to get away."

"I know you've been through a lot," Jonathan said. "But . . .,"

Jonathan's words were blocked out by a mysterious noise. Clark darted his eyes all around him as his ears picked up a large rumble. That didn't sound like a jet plane that he had become accustomed to hearing over the years. It was definitely not a military aircraft either. No way they could've caught onto him that fast. That sounded like . . .

Clark's eyes widened and his brows tensed.

He swiveled his head around aggressively. Jonathan's talking ceased. He could sense that something was amiss. "What is it?" he asked.

Clark began to breathe loudly. There was no way. Everyone was sucked in. He was sure. He saw it happen. He turned around and saw him as the color and warmth faded from his face.

The shape of a humanoid shape was hurling towards him fast.

"Run!" Clark yelled, startling his parents. "Get out of here!"

Zod roared and held out a hard clenched fist aimed in Clark's direction. Veins were poking through his wet and dampened ocean-soaked forehead.

To Jonathan and Martha's surprise, Clark launched himself and sped to the side and steered away. He continued and sensed that Zod was hot on his tail.

"Traitorous murderer!" Zod bellowed, his fury building.

A rush of energy flowed through him even as he let his anger guide him. The image of his wife's last moments kept appearing. His eyes grew warm and soon turned white-searing. Fighting it and no longer caring about his physical condition, he never took his eyes off his now worst enemy. There was no more reasoning. The Son of Jor-El had to pay, even if that included death.

Clark felt a shot of pain shoot through his back between his shoulder blades. It forced a yell to escape from his lips. That felt way too painful to be a punch. This was more sharp. More . . . hot.

Feeling the rush of shock, Zod slowed down. So, this was a new enhancement that was yet to be discovered. Anger. That was the key.

Clark winced at this newfound pain. So, Zod finally figured out how to use that technique. He was going to have be extra careful. Keeping his course steady, he continued moving ignoring the white-hot sensation that throbbed on his back.

Realizing Kal was in pain and knowing that another hit would be more devastating, Zod slowed himself down. "Do you think you can run forever? Wherever you go, I vow you will be hunted."

Clark kept moving but Zod's words couldn't be denied. They were cursed with invulnerability. There was no Phantom Zone to draw either of them in, leaving them to be the strongest beings ever known. Disregarding his minor injury, he turned himself slowly around with a leering scowl. Zod was suspended in midair with his eyes narrowed downward into the same glare. Neither felt the emotion of fear as their eyes locked. Clark felt far more comfortable facing an enemy far out here than any other place, having a home-field advantage. They weren't onboard a foreign ship with countless corridors and rooms. This was in an open field he had known his whole life in Smallville. No help this time. No backup.

"Alright then, General," Clark said. "You've got me."

"I made a mistake trusting you," Zod growled deeply.

"Hurts, doesn't it? How the hell did you get out of there? I threw that thing in the ocean."

"I held on as tight as I could," his voice began to waver from the oncoming despair. "Ursa . . . her face. That was the same kind of fear I've seen in millions of eyes on that day. The day Krypton saw its last sunset. All because you've been living your life. On a farm? You could've been far greater. You are a man from a highly regarded family. And you have disgraced it."

"And you?" Clark shot back. "You don't want to protect anything. This is all about control for you, isn't it?"

"What have you achieved, Kal? Farming? I've been trained my whole life."

Clark braced himself to where his chest was stiffened. He knew what was coming next. "Then show me what you've got."

Zod roared and charged with his fingers outstretched.

Clark tightened himself and was ready for impact. Zod's built force knocked Clark several yards while having his hands grabbing hold of him. Clark returned with hands on Zod's shoulders hoping that'd slow him down.

Instead, Zod swung Clark around and let go. While Clark was swirling, losing his traction, Zod charged and landed a punch at Clark's face. Clark was thrown back, but Zod was ready for another. Another hit, this time punched downward.

Fighting the force and the pain, Clark focused intensely and shot heat vision beams. The beams squarely hit Zod in the stomach, creating dark red scorches through his armor. Zod yelled, letting his arms flail.

Taking the time, Clark charged back and landed an uppercut into the same area where he had burned him. Zod let out a gasp as air was suddenly sapped away from him and was sent upward in a spiraling ascension.

Clark followed and tried to land another blow.

Zod recovered and caught Clark's fist with his hand, pushing it away. Leaving his adversary vulnerable, Zod violently leaned his head and struck Clark's head.

Recoiling, Clark was unable to detect the next move.

Zod bent his arm, cocking his elbow. Dashing forward, Zod then thumped Clark in the stomach.

Clark let out a yelp, feeling his lungs trying to find air to obtain. Caught off guard, Clark spun his head around to find his now unseen opponent. A frightening chill urged him to look harder—

An arm swung itself from behind and wrapped around Clark's neck. Resisting with his hands, he could hear Zod's angry panting near his ear.

"Pathetic!" Zod hissed through his teeth. "Weak man beneath notice. You've murdered my troops. My wife! We were the last, do you hear me?"

Straining, Clark reached behind him until his back was sore. Zod wasn't showing any signs of restraining his grip.

"You would've murdered millions," Clark strained, raising an arm and slammed his elbow backward into Zod's stomach.

Zod snarled a pained grunt, lessening his grasp. Clark thrashed by swinging, and Zod was forced away. Seeing that he wasn't too far away, Clark extended a leg which met Zod's face.

Clark then lunged himself with both arms extended. Zod threw his body back as Clark caught him in a forceful tackle. Angling downward, Clark resisted the wind's blow in his eyes. The two hit the earth with a booming subtle wave, and Clark held a solid grasp on Zod's shoulder pinning him. With his other hand, he balled it into a fist and landed a series of built up stiff-knuckled punches against Zod's cheek. Rage egged him to go on and not stop. Zod couldn't be reasoned with. He needed to be stopped one way or the other.

Clark's streak was broken when his fist landed into the palm of Zod's desperate grab.

Swiftly lifting his knee, Zod struck Clark in the stomach. Taking the opportunity while his opponent was caught off guard, Zod reached up and grabbed Clark by the shoulders with both hands. Lifting himself further, Zod threw Clark off of him and onto the side on his back.

As Zod found ground, Clark spun around, using the maneuver to pick himself up. Both men stood up on their feet, displaying stances that told each other they were nowhere near ready to give up. They lightly panted with sweat beginning to seep through their foreheads showing that their inundating strength was beginning to tire. Tension between the two grew, both hypersensitive to counter any kind of attack they would be willing to send at one another.

Baring his teeth, Zod's eyes glowed red and morphed quickly into a white-hot aura. Reacting fast enough, Clark returned his own heat vision ray, which collided into Zod's creating a sparkling and crackling shrill that overpowered the high pitched hum of lasers. The sphere in the middle of their crossfire was growing hotter and hotter by the second.

The men grunted and tensed their facial muscles until they could feel veins pushing against their stark, sweat-drenched temples.

Clark could feel Zod's fury channeling through the beams that were being projected. It was about the same amount of concentration he had felt from earlier. There was a massive force behind it that would deliver a great deal of pain to whoever made contact with it. With his years of experience and dedicated knowledge of how to control his own heat vision, Clark slightly relaxed himself and concentrated more on his focused anger. Any kind of recklessness would end up him giving Zod the advantage.

None of them was gaining an advantage. While the sphere was now a ball of pure heat that would be sure to set any nearby life ablaze, it was fluctuating back and forth in obscure jerks like a tug o' war.

The cold rush of panic in Jonathan compelled him to shove the master bedroom door open. Breathing heavily, his eyes danced around the room. He couldn't waste a second. That alien was after his son.

His eyes found the beretta A303 shotgun that was leaned up against the side of the window that overlooked their entire front yard. Feeling the brief moment of reprieve relax him, he bolted forward and grabbed it. Hastily, he then popped open the nearby drawer. Luckily, the shells that he had held onto for so long were still in there, unused and ready to be utilized. His fingers fidgeted with the latch and carefully but quickly inserted the shells.

Jonathan's peripheral vision picked up that Martha burst into the room and stopped where she was.

"Do you really think that's going to help?" she asked in agitation.

Jonathan let out a frustrated exhale. His inner answer was a most definite 'no' but sitting and waiting was an alternative he couldn't afford. Even if this type of weaponry was completely useless against someone without vulnerability, fighting to save his son's life was all that mattered to him.

"I don't know," his answer came to be as he pumped the forend, cocking the firearm. "But we can't sit here."

The heat was growing unbearably intense. The crackling grew louder as thicker dissipating sparks began to pour from its reddening source. Neither of the two was showing signs of fatigue. If one of them were to slow down, the heat would annihilate the other. Or both.

Their straining and grunting grew louder, and they could feel the strength of their beams growing stronger by the second. More perspiration drew from their foreheads, and wind began to blow against them.

The glowing hot sphere began to shake more violently. As it turned more unstable by the second, their eyes widened upon their notice.

Their concentration had broken.

Both beams from their eyes vanished, leaving the ball where it stayed. With nothing left powering one area, the ball expelled in a massive explosion of unbearably hot air. Both men were thrown off their balances and sent back several yards, skidding along the blades of grass.

Clark winced from the burning sensation that affected his face. His eyes stung from the overly hot air that surrounded him. Between him and Zod lied a large grassless diameter of destroyed and exposed dirt, leaving several scorches and blackness.

Zod groaned. He never imagined that this kind of raw power would have a recoil. It was powerful, though. With this kind of power, what he could do with it . . . He stared back at Clark, who was still recovering from the blast. No way he was ever going to let him have time to have another way of escape. He picked up speed and flew at Clark's direction.

Clark only caught a half-a-second glimpse of Zod charging at him before being picked up in a traumatic force that almost robbed the air out of his lungs.

As his eyesight regained sharpness, Clark saw that he was leaving the ground and ascending high up at a frighteningly fast progress. His arms were locked at his sides while Zod jammed his arms around him.

Clark thrashed around, but Zod was too firm to falter his grip. There was a sudden jerk and he stopped rising. Zod rotated while holding onto Clark and released one arm around him, spinning him. Clark rolled and stopped, facing Zod, who had already reached back with a fist and hurled a strike against his face.

Dazed and stung by the hit, Clark fell downward, his back facing the earth, three-hundred feet away.

Zod dove after Clark, his speed outmatching him. He primed another fist just right as he was about to make contact with Clark and threw another blow in the face.

With each punch, Clark's eyesight was becoming less lucid and losing its sharpness. He had to break free otherwise he'd be finished.

Quickly thinking, Clark barrel rolled out of Zod's way, allowing him to throw a fist at nothing. Clark then launched himself forward with one arm extended into a balled fist that aimed right at Zod.

Somehow, Zod caught onto this and threw himself backward and away. Clark tried another punch, but Zod dodged it again, propelling himself in the opposite direction.

Another thrown punch, and Zod gripped Clark's balled hand and pushed it back, making Clark vulnerable. Swiftly, Zod hurled a punch into Clark's stomach. Clark groaned loudly and Zod finished the attack with a devastating side sweep of an elbow across Clark's chin.

Clark spiraled violently in a soft descent. Enduring the soreness, he quickly regained control and sensed that Zod was still flying towards him. Fighting Zod was challenging enough. He was showing no signs of wearing down and Clark was getting more and more tired. Soon, there would be no strength left while Zod was only getting started. Then again, he couldn't just let this go on. Zod had to be stopped one way or another. If he was the only one who could stop him, then quitting was not an option.

Zod zoomed in fast. Clark could detect the anger building in that velocity. Tensing and releasing the stress in his body, Clark studied him. He calculated his enemy's speed carefully and concocted a quick plan.

Amidst his assault, Zod reached way back with a balled fist, clenching his fingers until his knuckles whitened. That kind of punch could be fatal if Clark wasn't careful enough.

Taking in a deep breath and relaxing himself to know what to do, Clark narrowed his brows, while balling his fists, flexing his arms for more momentum.

When Zod got close enough, Clark gathered all the energy in his body to sidestep away from Zod's path just a couple of inches away from while Zod swung at nothing but air, his energy now wasted.

Quickly, Clark gripped the front of Zod's armor, holding him firmly in place with no chance of avoidance or escape. With his other arm filled with bided energy, he reached back and hurled a strike against Zod's chin. Zod was sent far away from him so fast, he quickly shrunk into a spec that Clark could see in the distance.

Gathering himself, Clark charged and launching himself in the same direction. He soared expediently; his attack had only begun. As he drew nearer, he could make out that Zod was still being flung away from him, rolling with his arms and legs helplessly flailing against the wind.

Building another amount of energy, Clark reached back another imminent punch and struck Zod in the same exact location on his face. Another blow continued Zod's aerial tumbling that went for miles. Clark followed and repeated the same pattern of striking his enemy as hard as needed. So far, it didn't seem that Zod was able to recover and try a counterattack. Clark continued and it seemed like they were flying far, far away.

Jonathan shoved the front porch door open with his A303 shotgun in hand. Martha hastily followed her husband who was already past the porch steps and out into the open field. His head swiveled all around him, scanning the area for any signs for Clark's whereabouts. Jonathan's heart picked up speed as there was no trace where any of the two men had gone. From his last observation, they had flown so fast that a general direction would no doubt be useless.

Martha reluctantly joined the search and got herself out onto the large grassy field, still radiant from the sunny day that had lasted all throughout the day. The afternoon's daylight would soon begin to creep its way into the sunset period, so it wouldn't at least be hard to spot them up in the sky if they ever showed themselves.

"Come on, come on . . .," Jonathan muttered to himself, not taking his eyes above him.

A boom sounded.

Startled, Jonathan turned with his shotgun now tighter in his grasp. Something had fallen on the ground, producing a ripple of dust that arose in a thick curtain. Dispelling, the cloud revealed the object that had fallen. It was humanoid shaped and posed as if in a fetal position with the arms and legs slightly sprawled.

Jonathan's heart missed a beat. He recognized that this person was wearing a dirtied but red cape. "Clark!" he panicked, running towards his son, who only responded with a dazed groan.

That earlier strategy didn't go as planned. Zod had caught onto his mile-long punches and went for a counterstrike. Opening his eyes to find that his sight was still adjusting to his surroundings, he abruptly raised himself upward, his head twirling around. His parents shouldn't be anywhere near here.

"You alright? Where is he?" Jonathan asked directly.

"Get out of here!" Clark ordered. "Get Ma and stay inside the house!"

Before anything else could be said, Clark's eye spotted Zod coming in for another attack, presumably to finish him off.

Clark made a swift motion by spinning around, allowing himself to get back up and face his incoming enemy.

Jonathan tried approaching him. "Son," he said.

"Go now!" Clark stressed as he launched himself as fast as he could.

Clark didn't make an attempt to acknowledge where exactly he was. His recklessness caused a shockwave that happened to be too close to Jonathan.

Jonathan recoiled and lost his balance from the invisible force that ejected itself from where Clark once was. Martha rushed over to him while keeping an eye on her son, who was already now way high up for her to reach out to him.

Clark held his arms out with his palms opened, ready for Zod once more. This had to end soon; Zod is too close to his homestead.

Zod lifted his body upward until he his chest was facing Clark with one arm reaching back, readying a punch. Clark braced his body, increasing his speed, hoping to endure the hit with little damage as much as possible. Squeezing his eyes shut while hearing Zod's growl reaching a crescendo, he tightened himself.

The two unstoppable Kryptonians collided. A massive shockwave expanded from their clash. Zod was able to make the bigger impact and knocked Clark, but only a few meters in the opposite direction.

Clark's hand then reached around and grabbed Zod's shoulder, using him as leverage. Channeling his anger through his strength, Clark swung Zod around and charged toward the ground, hoping to drive him into the Earth and knock him out with that amount of trauma. Roaring angrily, Zod thrashed around trying to get free, but Clark was far more familiar with him now, unwilling to let any of his muscles relax for anything else.

The two struck the earth, and Zod remained beneath Clark, who saw that his adversary was only dazed. Clark let out a quick exasperated sigh, seeing how persistent this guy was.

With no other alternative in mind, Clark quickly swung around until he got behind Zod. He then wrapped a tight arm around his throat, locking it tight while slightly hoisting him up. This prompted Zod to overcome his daze and held his arms up to grasp against Clark's arm. Zod's strength failed him. So much energy in him was already used and Clark was far dedicated to having this kind of strength for so many years. Having this kind of enhancement wasn't something to be taken for granted.

Defeat was only a breath away for Zod, until his impaired eyes found two Earthians that were not too far away at all. A male and a female. Both were wearing faces of terror at the sight of him. The same kind of fear he saw on the face of his wife before she was pulled away into the obscure beyond of the Phantom Zone.

"Your parents," Zod growled through what air he could squeeze through his throat. "I've already lost my family today, Kal. Now, you lose yours."

Zod's eyes glowed red and morphed into a blinding white. Two red beams of unimaginable heat shot through his reddening sockets.

Agitating adrenaline shot through Clark, urging him to tighten his arm around Zod, who hardened himself into place. The red beams missed Jonathan and Martha, but only a couple of yards away. The red beams didn't diminish and Zod tried to adjust his head to where he would be directly facing his targets. He felt the heat grow hotter in his sockets. Fighting Clark's arm around his neck, he narrowed his brows to sharpen his perspective.

Jonathan's grip on his shotgun was lost and he tumbled backward along with Martha, who formed an X above herself for cover. Shrieking, they were now off their feet and backing away from the two deadly beams that left blackened lines in the earth with smoke steadily rising. They withdrew further until their backs made contact with the wooden exterior wall of the barn.

With widened horror-stricken eyes, Clark strained to keep his hold on Zod, who was still progressing his heat vision beams with no sign of ceasing. With each passing second, they were growing nearer to the Kents, who huddled closer together in a tight embrace, panic consuming their faces.

"Stop this!" Clark yelled, trying harder to turn Zod's head.

Zod bared his teeth, his jaws grinding hard against each other. "Never," he seethed.

The beams edged closer.

Jonathan and Martha let out yells. The beams were now inches away, sending out a fiery sensation that sent dread through them. From Clark's point of view, the beams were too close that it seemed like they were already touching them. It was too hard to tell.

Clark hardened his arm and knuckles. Tensing his body for flight, he found that he was unable to launch Zod away as if someone from above was keeping him grounded. Zod was too stubborn to be lifted.

"Do what I did, Kal," Zod uttered in a deathly dark tone. "Do the only option that is necessary."

"Stop!" Clark begged, struggling harder to break through Zod's strength.

Feeling the same kind of strength that came to him when lifting Zod's ship, Clark's desperation coursed through his muscles and he felt that his grip was beginning to make a difference. He squeezed his eyes shut and twisted his body at a barely noticeable tempo. Letting out a loud cry, Clark turned harder, and it seemed that Zod's head was turning.

The beams vanished. The high-pitched hum died to nothingness, leaving behind only the sound of open field ambiance in addition to the ground that had been sizzling. All had gone silent in a heartbeat. Letting out a gasp of surprise, Clark opened his eyes, alleviating his grip. Zod didn't feel as vigorous now; he felt much more loose than ever. Clark's arm loosened carefully, wondering if this was some sort of elaborate trick to free himself. If not, he was thankful that at least he had him in a choking headlock until he ran out of breath. Zod's head tilted to one side with no effort. His arms fell to his sides, his fingers curling in themselves in a natural state.

Shifting himself, Clark completely released Zod, who immediately fell flat on the ground. Clark turned around to face the General of the Hand of Rao and saw that his eyelids were barely parted into tiny slits, still glowing from the dying heat that once filled them.

Panting, Clark adjusted his eyes to x-ray vision. Zod's organs had completely shut down. No pulse, no heartbeat. A still skeleton with nonfunctioning organs. As he scanned more, Clark did detect something amiss around the head area, particularly around the neck area. On the spinal cord's cervical vertebrae, just two inches away from the skull was a fracture. One of the vertebrae had been out of place.

Clark's heart began to race from what he was seeing. His eyes scanned around Zod's body. Nothing was detected. Returning to his normal vision, he looked once again at Zod's face, who had the same barely open-eyed blank expression.

Clark's eyes widened. There was no way this was happening. He did exactly what Zod wanted. Zod's last words echoed in Clark's head: Do the only option that is necessary. Slowly backing away from his own handiwork, Clark got himself on his stared at the lifeless body of the man who pulled out the worst of him. The last of the Hand of Rao was no more.

"Clark," said Jonathan's voice.

Clark turned his head immediately. Jonathan's voice didn't sound normal. It wasn't a comforting proclamation of his son's name. The voice was weak, with some undertones that indicated it was painful to even speak. When Clark faced his father, his face turned white until he felt nothing but cold emptiness that spread throughout his body.

Jonathan was on his side. He was still in the same position as he was when Zod's beams were inching towards him. Martha was kneeling beside him and was holding a hand on her husband's stomach. He was wincing and groaning.

Feeling even more chilled dread, Clark rushed to his father's side. "Pa?"

Darting his eyes downward and shaken, Clark saw that Martha's hand was coating a wet looking area that dampened beneath her pressured palm. Under her hand was a dark scarlet and ever so slowly expanded. Surrounding the area were blackened charred smudges of scorched fabric.

Clark began an endless silent cursing at himself. Even killing Zod wasn't enough to stop his heat vision from getting too close. All of it in vain. "Pa," he moaned.

Jonathan's pained groans turned to deep breaths and exhales.

"Jonathan," Martha said, her voice breaking. "Stay with me. Oh, God. . . Stay with me."

"Clark," he breathed in a raspy whisper.

"I'm here. I'm right here," Clark said.

Clark kept his eyes on his father's and trying his hardest to keep them away from the wounds. The work of a man who probably wouldn't have done this if he hadn't gone home.

"Pa," Clark said, "I . . .," his words trailed. Getting out the truth was excruciating. "I left the city. He followed me so he'd find you."

Jonathan tried lifting his body up to be closer to his son.

"Don't move," Martha advised.

Letting out a groan from the move, Jonathan placed a hand on Clark's shoulder. "You had no way of knowing."

Clark shook his head. Him having no clue that it would end this way was the truth, but his actions brought a consequence. "But it's my fault," he protested.

"Clark," Jonathan forced out. That was more painful than the last movement.

Clark could feel the tears forming. His eyes burning with emotion and his throat swelling. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Jonathan closed his eyes in pain. He let go of his neck and leaned it back only an inch. The amount of guilt he sensed in his son was overwhelming.

"I'm going to a better place. I'll see you there soon, but that won't be for a long time. You've got a full life ahead of you." Relaxing himself a bit, he whispered, "Listen to me."

Clark blinked rapidly to fight the tears to eliminate any distractions from his father's agony.

Jonathan was now more in a tiring state. Consciousness was slipping away, and he couldn't hold on. Speaking slowly, he proceeded. "Promise me . . . that you'll always be the better man. Always be the best. Like we did. For you."

Clark simply nodded.

Feebly, Jonathan shakily rose a hand and tried to adjust his fingers. The suffering made it difficult. His hand formed into an open palm that softly pressed against the 'S' emblem on Clark's chest.

In his fading condition, Jonathan managed to form a warm expression. "I love you, son. So much."

"I love you too," Clark responded.

Jonathan's mouth began to shrink. His eyes blinked rapidly, losing everything surrounding him.

"No, no, no . . ." Clark silently repeated profusely in an agonizing mantra. Tears streamed down his face while his throat burned, making breathing more and more difficult.

Jonathan's hand loosened and fell from Clark's chest and landed on the earthly ground his fingers gently curling inwards with no nerves to manipulate them.

Martha placed a hand on her son's shoulder and looked into her husband's eyes one last time before they gradually shut themselves, never to open again.

A couple of seconds followed, and nothing came from Clark. He then opened his mouth that released no sound and sobbed softly while Martha joined, wrapping her arms around her grieving son.