Chapter 4 – Unsolicited Advice

The next day

Camp Bakken Family Day dawned sunny with un-seasonally warm weather, fortunately providing a perfect setting for the event. The corporation desired that neither negative press nor complaints should arise…as had about their recent operations. Although an intense search had been made for the person responsible for the "unauthorized" articles which appeared online, no one could be positively identified as their author. It was decided instead to develop some positive press, which should not cost them too much money, considering the alternative.

A plot of empty land was cordoned off, and dozens of port-a-johns and trash bins installed. There were bouncy-houses for the kids, a mini-carnival with rides and games, and even a petting zoo borrowed from a local farm. Free BBQ and sheet cake was provided, and should that not suffice convoys of food trucks and other vendors swarmed the site, hoping for plenty of business from the hungry families.

As expected hundreds of people descended onto the site to reunite with loved ones working at the camp. There was an introductory welcoming speech by company officials followed by the singing of the National Anthem, and then the festivities began. Music filled the air as live bands played mostly country and classic rock on a pair of stages. There was also a large beer garden aimed at the single adults – not everyone had family willing to drive to the middle of nowhere.

Diana wasn't particularly interested in the festivities as such, but she made an effort to relax and enjoy herself; as she walked with her family, she saw other couples, ranging from men and women barely out of their teens to those in late middle-age. She couldn't but wonder as to how they made their relationships work. She supposed they did after a fashion, or else they wouldn't be here.

Diana saw a woman about her age standing by one of the food stalls in the arms of her man, talking and laughing with him. The two looked very happy. She couldn't help but wonder: did they have to work for it? But for a certainty, she thought, they did not have the unique difficulties that she and Clark did. Not for the first time did she wonder if it was even possible for such people as herself and Clark to have a 'normal' relationship.

Diana looked away from the couple; she could not allow herself to doubt. For Jon's sake, she had to try at whatever passed for 'normality' in Man's World. She had assumed the mantle of wife and mother and had to play her role as best she could. She knew in her heart that Clark was trying, in his own way, to do the same, although sometimes that way was fairly mystifying to her.

Clark Kent aka Joshua Clark (a name borrowed from one of his adopted mother's grandparents) held Jon in one arm, Diana's hand with the other. Jon clung to his father's denim work-shirt, holding a balloon animal carefully in his hands. He observed his surroundings wide-eyed, taking in all the sights.

"I didn't think there would be so many people here," Diana observed, affecting a tone of casualness in her voice.

"It's a big operation, here," Clark replied in the same tone. "There are thousands of guys here, almost all of them from out-of-state, construction workers, machinists, truck drivers, all kinds. The money's good, though I heard it was better a couple of years ago, before the boom caught on."

Diana didn't remember exactly how much Clark said he'd made, and she resisted the impulse to ask how much he'd saved. The last thing she wanted to do was to get into an argument about money. She knew this job just wasn't only about money with him. She'd read his articles, very well-written they were, although from what she had gleaned, she wasn't sure there was anything really sinister going on here other than some possible fudging of environmental laws. Clark seemed to think otherwise, and so did Lois, his employer now.

Lois Lane had shared some of her thoughts with her before she left for her reunion. "I have a hunch that's something else going on there than this 'alternative energy' line, I can feel it," Lois had said in that investigative journalist voice of hers. "Clark hasn't been able to find anything yet, though."

"How long is this going to take?" Diana had tried to keep her temper in check. One reason her husband was gone was that Lois had commissioned him to write this story in the first place. As far as she was concerned Lois couldn't pay enough to make Clark's absence worthwhile.

For the first time, though, Lois looked doubtful. "I, ah, don't really know. Clark hasn't been able to really dig up anything yet, but he's only been on it a month."

"A month is enough," Diana said firmly. "If you hadn't noticed, he's had to be away from the wife and kid."

"I…well, you might be right," Lois admitted ruefully. "It's not the most glamorous topic is it? Corporate shenanigans in the far north…no one wants to read about that. No murders, no scandals...at least nothing that Clark's uncovered. Hey...he's not gotten into any fights, has he?"

"No...nothing serious," Diana replied, although she had noticed a few bruises and scabbed knuckles the last time she'd managed to talk to him over FaceTime.

"Oh...that's good, I guess. Now that would be a story, underground fight clubs in the lawless work camps of the north! People would devour that! But, actually, I was thinking of asking Clark to wrap it up soon, and give him another assignment, I have something else I could use him on. Something closer to home," she'd added hastily seeing the look the Amazon gave her.

"Are you going to tell him, then?" Diana hoped it would be soon.

Lois had looked at her slyly. "Since you're going out to see him, I thought you could tell him."

It didn't matter, she was more than ready. She wanted to discuss it yesterday, and hoped it wouldn't lead to another argument. But actually there had hardly been any time to argue. Yesterday, while she'd cleaned up the mess of Clark's trailer (Diana sometimes wondered what the Fortress would be like without those robots), Jon was so eager for his daddy's attention, she could hardly get in a word edgewise. He wanted to tell his daddy everything he'd done when he'd been gone.

"I made for you," Jon pushed his coloring book at Clark shyly.

"What have you got there…oh, I see," Clark turned the pages, seeing the crayon drawings made by a two-year-old hand. Jon had drawn the three of them in big stick figures: Diana recognizable by her tiara and him by his red cape, all with big grins. They were surrounded by jagged blue lines – presumably the Fortress – followed by more drawings of him flying, fighting a giant robot, and in glasses with briefcase in hand. Clark smiled: Jon had even drawn a picture of Batman complete with big frown and pointy ears.

"He's got Bruce down pat."

Clark turned the page and his smile dimmed. There was picture of Diana, standing against the backdrop of their old home, alone. Jon had drawn her dripping tears in blue crayon.

"Oh," Clark managed to say, noticeably avoiding looking in his wife's direction, where she was vacuuming the bedroom, but she could hear every word of course. "Why does Mommy look so sad?"

"Ma's sad because you're gone," Jon replied complacently. "Ma's always sad."

That had been most awkward, Diana thought, and only partially wrong. But an equally awkward conversation about it was thwarted when someone had knocked on the trailer door, and then what seemed like an endless parade of Clark's work buddies had tromped in and out, wanting to meet his family, bringing in their own wives and girlfriends and kids who had just arrived like her. They all seemed to be men in similar situations to Clark's…well not quite similar, but in what her husband would have called "hard-luck" stages. Clark may have described himself in like company, Diana thought. She found herself talking more with them than with her husband, finding many of them were also struggling with circumstances beyond their control.

The most impressive of them had been one of the biggest men Diana had ever seen, even bigger than Clark, a bald and muscular African-American gentleman. Jon had goggled up at him and the man gave the little boy a big toothy grin as big as his chest. Jon had promptly run to hide behind his mother's legs.

"John Henry Irons, ma'am," he'd introduced himself. His hand swallowed up Diana's. "I work the evenin' shift with your old man."

"You are an oil worker too?"

Irons had laughed, a deep and rich sound. "No, I'm just a welder! I do repairs, some fabricating. We actually don't work in oil here, it's some new-fangled new energy source I couldn't begin to tell you...didn't Josh tell you?"

"No…he hasn't told me much of what he does," Diana glanced at Clark meaningfully, who had the decency to look abashed. "I thought you were drilling for oil."

"Well, that's what this all started out as," Irons explained. "But then the prices started going down, so they had to diversify, or so that's what they said. We're drilling down to something deep, but what I don't know for. Maybe a type of fracking, it's supposed to be something revolutionary."

"Oh," Diana replied. "Is it dangerous?"

Clark shook his head. "No. It's just a lot of work."

Diana had thought Irons had looked doubtful at that but he evidently decided not to say anything in front of her. That had piqued her curiosity and she wanted to pursue it but decided not to, for the moment. She didn't want to forget what she had come here for, and she stuck with small talk.

"Is your family visiting too?"

"Nah, I'm divorced, ma'am. My kids are in still school so they couldn't take the time off today, but at least I can pay their bills," Irons chuckled ruefully. "Anyway, it's nice to meet you. I just wanted to say you got a great man there in Josh. He's one of the best workers we got here, don't slack off or nothin' not like some of these other greenhorns we got around here."

"Mmm," Diana murmured. Clark said nothing, just poured a cup of coffee for her.

"Everyone works hard, you have to in this place," he said slowly. "There's been…accidents. No one knows how many exactly."

"Yeah, well, let's not worry the missus," Irons chuckled again, but this time there was a quality of uneasiness about it, barely hidden. "You've always been very careful."

Diana would have liked to ask Mr. Irons more about it, but then she had to keep an eye on Jon, who had taken the opportunity with many other kids around to misbehave with them, to the best of his considerably ability, shouting and running in and out of the trailer and all around it, very loudly. By the time she managed to round up the wretched man-spawn the big man was leaving, saying he had to go to his next shift.

Then, when they finally got some time alone, and Jon had tired himself out and been put to bed, Clark was in the mood for something else than conversation.

"I haven't seen you for almost a month," he'd whispered in her ear, his hands on her body, squeezing her buttocks, her arms, her breasts.

"Clark," Diana had tried to protest, but not very vigorously. "We need to talk."

"Let's save the talk for tomorrow," his hands were fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. "I've missed you so much."

There was something about this man that managed to get past all her carefully constructed defenses, and she found herself going along with his wishes. She knew in her heart that she had missed him just as dearly. Her body ached for him, and so when she felt his hands on her, in her, she simply let him do as he pleased...which was all quite pleasing to her as well. That was one power he had that hadn't changed, much to her relief.

Yet as pleasing as it was it did nothing to resolve their current predicament.

Now she was here, sitting with Jon at an outdoor table waiting for Clark to return with their lunch. She knew she would have to broach the subject with him sooner rather than later and so it may as well be today. Still, she found herself unsettled by being so unsure on how he would react to the news. He was different, now…the same man she had married, yet different all the same. Others had noticed it too, had simply said it was just him adjusting to his new condition…but they didn't know him like she did.

Clark soon returned with a couple of plates heaped with BBQ chicken, hot dogs, and potato salad. She hadn't seen him so relaxed for some time, not since before the destruction of the alien city of Pnakoutos, when he had destroyed the entire place with his solar flare, shocking everyone, most especially himself. It had been a very difficult time the first few weeks afterwards, as Clark struggled to cope with the loss of his powers caused by the flare. Their friends had tried to help, but Clark had always been an active - and proud - man, she realized, despite his innate humility, and it hurt him to be sidelined. Batman certainly hadn't helped, with his orders for Clark to stay out of any possible danger.

"I'm not going to stay in a bubble, Bruce," Clark had argued. "I can't do that."

"You don't get it do you," he'd replied, not bothering to hide his annoyance as if Clark was an employee who'd refused to take his vacation hours. "If it gets out that you are depowered, every one of our enemies will take advantage of it to attack us and to create mayhem all over the world. It's the fear of Superman's powers that keep them from murdering each other, not your vision of world peace."

"So you need people to keep being afraid of the alien from another world," Clark had said bitterly. "That's my only job now."

"One which you need to keep doing."

Bruce relentlessly berated Clark for his self-pity, which only made matters worse (Clark had even taken a swing at him one day, the ineffectiveness of which had hardly helped his mood and only bolstered Bruce's argument) and now the two friends were hardly speaking at all. At least, Clark said, he was still a journalist, and he didn't need his super powers for that. He didn't need the Justice League for that, either. Bruce had been less than thrilled when he learned what Clark was doing, and only Diana's intervention had prevented him from interfering. It wasn't the greatest decision, she'd realized, but one she'd had to make in order to keep Clark from exploding from frustration. Now, however...

"I'm starving," Clark said as he sat down. "Let me know if you want more."

Diana looked down at her plate of food while Clark tucked in as if he hadn't eaten for days - the whole drippy syrupy mess looked rather unappetizing. She focused on feeding Jon instead.

"What's going on with…everyone?" Clark said around a mouthful of food. It was the first time he'd asked after the Justice League.

Diana shrugged, as she cut up Jon's hot dog into small pieces. "Not much, really. It's been very quiet, thank the gods."

Clark frowned. "What about that terrorist attack in northern Africa?"

"It could have been much worse than it was, if not for Shazam. He managed to save most of the passengers, and apprehend the criminals too."

"Sounds like he's doing a good job," Clark said approvingly. "I didn't think he'd have the discipline."

"He still needs work, he's got all the humility of a 12-year-old, which he really is."

Clark laughed. "I imagine he's a handful!"

"You don't even know," Diana grumbled. She didn't add how he'd been a royal pain in the arse until Bruce had taken him aside. No one knew what he'd said to him but Batson returned looking much more subdued.

She added: "They all miss you, you know. They're always asking about you, how you're doing."

Clark said nothing, focused on sawing at his overcooked chicken breast with his plastic knife.

Diana sighed. She knew this had to be said. "Even Bruce."

Clark just grunted in response like an uncivilized Argive, a mannerism she misliked.

"Bruce is too busy to miss anyone."

"You're not being fair to him. You know how he is."

Clark watched Jon eat his hot dog pieces. "Yes, I do. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to stick me in his cave with the rest of his collection. It's fine for him to talk, he doesn't have a family to look after."

She looked at him. "Is that what you're doing?"

Clark stared at her. "Diana, that's not fair. You know I am. I'm doing the best I can."

"I know that when Jon cries in the night, wondering where his father is and if he is okay, only I am there to comfort him. And I cannot tell him when he is coming home."

Clark's forehead creased. "Diana, we talked about this. You knew that I would have to be on assignment on site for awhile."

"Lois wants you back too, she says this assignment isn't panning out."

"What?" Clark stared at her in dismay. He is still more concerned about his scoop than his family, Diana thought.

But I'm not done here yet, there's something going on here, I know it! There's a section of the camp that not even the best workers are allowed in, it's where they're doing their most intensive work..."

Clark clenched his fist. "If I...if I had my powers I could find out what it was much sooner. That's the only reason it's taken me this long to work up to being as close as I am now."

"That's an excuse...not to mention the risk having you in one of those 'accidents' your friend was talking about?"

"Diana," Clark's voice was mild and slightly chastising, another irritating tone of voice he sometimes used with her. "There are risks everywhere. I can't hide from them, here or at home."

"I would rather have you home," Diana said quietly, resting her folded arms on the picnic table. "You've done all you can here. The League needs you back, and I do too."

"The League gets along very well without me, it's obvious," Clark said stubbornly. "Diana, I will come home, but I need to finish my work here first. Maybe another month or two, after that then-"

Diana looked at him then, with the most direct stare he had seen from her since she'd arrived at the work-camp.

"I'm pregnant, again," She said simply.

Clark nearly fell off his bench, stunned, much as he had once done when she had first said such a thing to him two years ago. For a moment he heard nothing, not the cover band, not the mild roar of people around him. There was nothing except the two of them, and Jon beside her, blissfully unaware of what was happening.

"How...when?" He managed.

"I imagine you know the how, as for when, I believe it was the last time you were home," Diana replied calmly. "I hope you remember, Clark?"

"I...Diana, of course I do," he reached out and grasped her hand, the import of what she was saying dawning on him. "But...why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"When I was pregnant with baby Jon you were gone, and though I was with my sisters, I was still alone, not with the one person I really needed. I do not want a repeat of that experience."

Clark understood then. "Diana...I..."

"Jon and I are leaving in the morning," Diana continued, not waiting for his response, wiping Jon's face and hands. "I hope I will see you after...soon. We need you home. It matters not to me where we are or our circumstances, as long as you are with me."

Clark said nothing, as Diana picked up Jon and walked away through the crowd, leaving him sitting alone in the midst of the teeming crowd.

Later that evening...

As night fell, most of the workers and their wives and children retired to their trailer homes, RVs, or drove to motel rooms or to the airport. Yet, many still remained on site. The bars that had been constructed just for the benefit of the workers roared with business. The air resounded with the sound of bikers who descended upon the camp. The night was young and the hard partying was just getting started.

Clark walked almost blindly through the darkness, barely hearing or seeing the commotion around him. His mind was buzzing still with Diana's news. He couldn't stay still. His body burned with restless energy, finding no outlet for release.

He and Diana had always hoped for more children after Jon. He knew that Diana wanted a girl, despite her claims that any gender would be most welcome. In truth though, having another child had been the furthest from his mind, what with...the events of the recent months. He had always thought that he would be overjoyed with the news, and he was joyful but most of all what he felt was anxiety and not a little fear.

His powers were gone. Bruce may claim he was just as strong as any human male, but at the Hall of Justice he had demonstrated that he was just a little bit stronger, something that Clark couldn't help but think that pleased Bruce just a little. Yes, he was a stronger than he had been those first few terrible days after Pnakoutos had been obliterated, those days when he could barely walk and dress himself, much less fly. But how long before he was back to the way he was? Months? Years? If he got back to the way he was?

And...the alien city was never far from his mind, and sometimes he had nightmares about it, although he had told no one, only Diana, and only sparingly at that. He didn't remember much of what had happened, the last thing he could recall clearly was the horrible face of the Yith looming over him, then a brightness...and then nothing. He had remembered nothing until he had woken up in the Watchtower. He didn't know how he had "flared" or even if he could do it again. Yet, he couldn't help but think that some of the League looked at him a little differently afterwards, a little warily. The Thanagarians, especially Hawkman, although Hawkgirl pretended not too...even Bruce seemed disturbed. It gave him the terrible feeling of being a kid again, when the other kids looked at him as a freak. He knew, mentally, that wasn't their intention but the feeling was still there. He had to get away, at least for awhile, he'd pleaded he'd had to go back to a job, a normal job. He thought some of them understood, but not Bruce.

Now, this: a new baby. Clark wanted to be happy, as he had been when Diana was pregnant was Jon, but he felt like he was almost consumed with worry.

Clark was so distracted that he nearly ran straight into the big, burly biker in front of him. The biker turned and stared at him.

"I'm sorry," Clark apologized hastily. "I didn't mean to run into you, I-"

"Looks like your super-sight has gone adios along with the rest of your super powers, bastich," a deep rumbling voice said. "Too bad for you."

Clark blinked and stared. The biker was huge in his studded black leathers, and with his white skin and black coloring around his eyes he could easily have passed for a Scandinavian death metal band member...which was what sounded like was playing in the nearest bar. But his reddish eyes gave him away. His hair was different, hanging long and straight down, but it was unmistakably the Czarnian.

Damn it, of all the places...and now?!

"I don't want any trouble, Lobo," Clark said, forcing himself to sound authoritative, much as he used to.

"Too bad, looks like you've got it," the alien growled. He took a step menacingly forward. "I heard ya lost all your powers. What a shame, Kryptonian." He clenched his fists.

Clark tensed with anger and alarm. If Lobo meant to fight, there was no way he could defend himself, and Diana was not here. "If you want to kill me, Lobo, you better do it now, it's the only chance you're ever going to have."

The Czarnian stared at him with his hellish eyes. But what he said next surprised him. "Hahah! Had you going for a minute, didn't I? I saw the fear in your eyes! Wish I had a camera." His hands unclenched.

"What are you talking about?"

"Much as I'd like to tear your head right off your shoulders and use it as a hood ornament, there'd be no glory in killin' someone who can't fight back. Hell, word'll get around, and how would that look? Not that I really care but...anyway, I'd thought I'd have a beer first before I blow this joint. Wanna join me?"

This was so unexpected that Clark felt himself just standing and staring at him. What the hell was this guy up to now? Was this a trap?

"C'mon, man. I always knew ya were a tightassed sort, but are ya still clenching 'em so hard ya can't even have a beer with me?"

Clark thought about it.

Five minutes later...

There had certainly been plenty of strange episodes in Clark's life, he'd thought while on his third bottle of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. He'd traveled to strange places on this world and off world too. But there probably was not an instance stranger than right now, sitting at a bar next to the killer bounty hunter called Lobo. Just being within visual distance would reduce most sentient beings to shuddering terror, but Clark felt rather mellow.

He seemed less satisfied by his beer than Clark. "Pigswill," he proclaimed. But Clark noticed he drank it anyway.

"I s'pose it's better than nothing," Lobo remarked. The bar thrummed around them as a local band belted out hard metal. Most of the patrons were workers like Clark or bikers, or were both, roughnecks hardly to be cowed by the strange-looking alien, probably thinking him just another transient weirdo. When he'd sat down at the bar and bawled for a round of beers the bartender had barely noticed.

"Y'know, we're not so different, you and I," Lobo reflected. "We're the last of our species, nothing else like us in the galaxy."

Clark's mind drifted to Jon but he held his tongue, not wanting to reveal to this madman at least one more Kryptonian in existence but Lobo surprised him.

"Oh yeah, I know ya got a kid and all...big mistake, man, big mistake."

"It's no mistake," Clark growled. "Don't mention my son again."

"Or you'll what?" Lobo punched him on the arm, and Clark visibly winced, which made the alien laugh, a harsh crude noise. "Get wifey to protect ya? I hope she's keeping her eyes open."

"What are you talking about, Lobo?"

Lobo frowned, and just grunted, turning back to his beer. He swallowed it, tossed it aside and demanded another one. The bartender glowered at first but after the look Lobo gave him, brought two more posthaste.

"You're in deep shit, Kryptonian! All of you."

"You're threatening us? I may be depowered but the rest of the League-"

"I don't give a rat's ass about the Justice League" Lobo replied. "Lemme ask you something: why haven't you taken over this shitball? You could be a god here, or could have "been, anyways. A whole planet at your beck and call."

"That's not who I am," Clark grumbled. "You know that. I'm not a monster like you."

Lobo just gave another ugly laugh. "Now yer just a pansy, like the rest of these bastiches," he gestured around him. "Too bad for you."

"I'll ask you again, what are you talking about?"

Lobo shrugged, turned back to his beer. "I'm blowin' this mudball. I would have suggested you do the same, but obviously ya can't, not anymore. Oh well."

"Why?"

"No money ta' be made here. Waste of my time. Better pickins elsewhere."

Clark felt himself slightly tipsy but not drunk. Not yet anyway. "You're running away from something."

Lobo fixed his eyes on him then, dangerously. "Watch it bastich. No one accuses the Main Man of bein' a coward!"

"Why don't you take over this planet, then, if you're so tough?"

Lobo reached and grabbed the front of Clark's shirt. He didn't flinch. It was hardly noticed in the hot, noisy atmosphere of the bar.

"Get outside, Kryptonian, and we'll see who's tough."

He dragged Clark off his stool and pulled him outside. The bartender bawled for the tab money and Lobo cursed at him while tossing a handful of bills over his shoulder. He shoved Clark outside through the doors. The night air was cool and helped sober him up a bit, but not enough to be afraid of the Czarnian.

"You're leaving this planet because of me," Clark said. "I see it now. You know about the solar flare. You think I can do it again and you think I'll use it against you."

Lobo snarled, shoving Clark so hard he nearly flew off his feet. "If I thought ya could do it again, I'd kill you right now, right here. Yer not worth it, never was. Yer parents should have let you blow up along with their asses."

Clark would have liked to smash his fist in his face, but the thought of Jon held him back. Suddenly, another thought occurred to him, why Lobo had gone to all this farce. It would be a risk, provoking the crazy Czarnian.

"Why don't you kill me anyway? Go on, do it! I'll never be the man I was, so you'd be doing me a favor."

Lobo seemed to consider it a moment, then his evil-clownlike face twisted into a smile. "Yeah, I would be. But I don't think so. I don't want wifey pissed at me, I don't need the hassle. I'm leaving tonight."

"Why the hurry?" Clark demanded. "You said we were in danger-"

"Yeah, and I don't care to be around when the shit hits the fan. Like I says, if I thought there was any money in it I'd stick around and watch the show, but there isn't. You pissed off the wrong bastiches with your little light show in the desert. And anyways, I got better places to be, other people ta kill."

"Who's pissed off at us? Who are you talking about?"

He laughed again and stepped closer to Clark, who tensed. "Never mind what I said. Let's just say, I wanna see some new places. No hard feelings, eh?"

Clark relaxed his shoulders, then realized that was a mistake. Lobo's fist caught him square in the face, and he fell like a sack of rocks, pain rocketing through his head. Tears spurted involuntarily from his eyes. He saw through their blur, Lobo laughing, holding his bloody fist to his mouth, and lick it.

Damn it, he's going to kill me after all, Diana, I'm sorry...Jon...

"Hahaha!" Lobo laughed uproariously as if he had heard the funniest joke. The bikers loitering around the parking lot barely took any notice, although they began trickling away. "Couldn't help myself, I just had to know what the blood of a Kryptonian tasted like, hahaha! Ya look better now already! No hard feelins', eh? Like I said, we're more alike than not."

"I'm nothing like you," Clark gasped. "You're a killer, you committed genocide against your own people."

Lobo snorted. "You obviously never met any other Czarnians, otherwise you wouldn't complain about it. As for 'genocide' or whatever ya wanna call it, hell, that's another thing we got in common, eh? Least I never flamed out the last Yith in existence, gotta admit I'm jealous though. But like I says, ya just bought yourself a world of shit. Hope the bastiches of this dungball appreciate it. They don't appreciate anything else they do for ya, ya do know that, don't you? If ya have any brains, ya'd light on out of here too."

Lobo strode over to his flyer, which fit in with half a dozen other souped-up choppers in the parking lot, which Clark struggled to sit up. Lobo looked at him one last time, as if admiring his handiwork.

"So long, bastich!"

The flyer roared and flew down the solitary road. Only Clark saw it leave, sitting in the dust of the lot with blood trickling down his face as he saw it's lights grow smaller, then abruptly rise to the sky. No one else saw it.

Whatever the crazy Czarnian had been talking about, he had no idea, but he sensed something behind all the alien's blustering: he wanted to avoid what would happen on Earth. The Justice League had to be informed.

Staggering a little, Clark got to his feet, and managed to walk back to his trailer.

Diana was always a light sleeper, but it took several shakes of her shoulder before she woke. She'd fallen into a deep sleep despite the lumpy mattress. She recognized the touch, so she didn't lash out, as she would when abruptly woken from sleep. "Clark?"

She opened her eyes and sat up, blinking away sleep. The first thing she smelled was the beer and winced. He'd been drinking again. "Clark..."

Diana then noticed the massive bruise under his eyes. "By the gods, what happened? Were you fighting...?"

"Never mind that," he took her arms, until he knew he had her attention. She watched him, slightly puzzled. "Diana, I'm gong home."

To be continued...

[A/N: I usually don't care for Lobo, he's a bit of comic relief to me, but I couldn't resist but throw him in here and let him and Clark have a beer together, heh heh. Lobo's always been a bit of a shit though, and he could have been a bit clearer but he's right in one thing - something big's going to happen! Next chapter we return to Batman and Zatanna!]