-- Chapter 18 -- Hell --

"Clark's alive? You can just walk into this loft and make that declaration after five seconds?" Chloe asked. "I've been looking for six months." Was she supposed to just believe this guy? God, but I want to believe him.

"People leave bits of themselves on everything they touch. When a person dies those connections fade, become monochromatic and empty. This room is lit up like a Christmas tree," Fisk said. "It doesn't belong to a dead kid. Finding this, Clark, will take a little more time, but I think I'm up to it."

Clark was alive? It was the word of a two-bit psychic, but Chloe latched onto the assurance. Maybe she wasn't totally insane to still be looking? "You can really find him?"

"I make no guarantees, but I'm pretty good at this. Give me a little space and a little time," Fisk said. He shooed Chloe toward the ladder and rested his hands on Clark's telescope. "A little privacy, please."

"Good luck Mr. Fisk," Chloe said. Find him. "I'll be right outside."


One young man, tall and fair, with full black hair brushing his temples lay silent and unmoving. So small a thing, one man, but his very existence changed everything. Dessa reached out a pale thin hand and rubbed at the drying tears on his cheeks. She stroked his forehead absently but lovingly. It hadn't even been a hope in the back of her mind when she dispatched the Eradicator, but Dessa had a real Kryptonian. "I know you can't speak right now. The drug is a quite potent, but you can listen." With a gentle push, Dessa opened Clark's eyes. They were awake, conscious, and so very afraid. "It pains me to cause you such distress. In a few hours, our situation will be quite reversed, and you will be the one with the power. I hope you can forgive me for doing my duty and preserving the council."

Forgive her? Clark just wanted to scream, to run. A hysterical laugh didn't make it past the impulse in his head. Blinking was beyond him at the moment, much less running or speaking or laughing. Like a bony claw, Clark could feel her fingers on his face and in his hair, stroking gently. Don't touch me!

Dessa settled herself onto the ground, her silky lavender robes pooling around her into shimmering puddles of fabric. "You couldn't possibly understand now, why we would want a child like yourself for our council. I could try to explain it to you. It might calm your fears to understand." With slow careful movements Dessa began tugging at the fastenings to Clark's clothes. "Perhaps better to let you see for yourself though? Words could not possibly do justice to what is to come."

Now bare and exposed, Clark's chest rose rhythmically with shallow breaths. He could feel the cool claw-like hands of his tormentor tracing over his flesh, over his heart. This couldn't be how the galaxy worked. This was insane. Someone was going to burst through those doors and stop this, whatever this was. A new sensation, sticky and wet flowed across his chest and over his neck. God, was she painting him? Her hands were in the wetness, tracing a pattern. Clark strained to tilt his head just a bit so he could see what was happening, but he couldn't. Lola? Are you there? Can you see what she's doing? Please be there, Lola. The silence in his mind was maddening. Dessa must have taken his Kryptonium with his clothes. It wasn't that far. Couldn't she hear him?

Like a gentle cool breeze across his panicked mind, a song filled the silence. You aren't alone, and whatever happens, you won't face it alone. The words were too bulky, and Lola had to struggle to find the correct ones. To be honest she hated words. They were artificial and forced. Setting aside clumsy words, she shared her true voice, her song of sadness and fear and support. Clark was the last of his kind, and he was her partner of late. He belonged to her as much as she had ever belonged to him. It had been so many years since anyone had needed her or talked to her as a being. Lola was not yet ready to let go of him. Her song of empathy was all she had to offer, but she would give it freely. Perhaps, this ascension was survivable? Lola tried to lace that hope into her song. She tried to gift him with some calm, some tiny relief from fear.

Simple warmth like being bundled into his mother's quilt filled Clark's mind. Lola's song was soothing and delicate, a whisper of hope. For the first time, his Lola let Clark see her true nature, her soul. The beauty was a distraction from the insanity surrounding him, and Clark let it fill his mind. Thank you.


A silhouette amongst the shadows, motionless and silent, the Eradicator awaited the birth of her true master. This should have been a time of peaceful waiting. It should have been empty time, without distraction. Like incessant insects buzzing about her head doubts niggled at her consciousness though. Had she made the right choice, returning her master to the Over Council? She had resisted the command of a Kryptonian to bring him here. Sacrificing Clark to save Krypton was the right choice. It was the only choice. Wasn't it?

The dissenting voice in her would not be silenced. Clark was the last Kryptonian, her master. She should never have fought him. This should not have been her choice. The Eradicator took a single tiny step toward the council entrance. No, Clark could never truly save Krypton as he was. The salvation of Krypton was more important than anything, any life or soul. Only Kal-El could ensure Krypton's eternal legacy. But Kal-El would never be Clark.

The Eradicator froze, a simple realization filling her confused logic circuits. She valued Clark higher than Krypton. The risk was too great. She could not allow this to happen. The ascension would have to be stopped.


Chloe sat cross-legged in the dusty patch of dirt under Clark's fortress of solitude and traced little simple drawings in the sand, a flower, a heart, a bird. Was she insane to be sitting there waiting for a psychic to tell her where her missing friend was? She should be at home, packing her bags and getting ready to start her internship at the Daily Planet. Her train would be leaving at the end of the week. Technically Clark had helped her land that coveted position. Her work sample had been the series of articles she'd written about his disappearance. Chloe smiled and smoothed her latest creation off the sand. Thank you, Clark, she scribbled. Blinking rapidly to clear her eyes, Chloe turned her gaze heavenward. "If I had could trade, Daily Planet or you...I wish I could trade."

Chloe sighed deeply. It didn't harm anything, giving the psychic a chance to do his thing. Maybe he really was right and he could find Clark. It was worth the effort anyway.

"Chloe? What on Earth are you doing out here?"

Chloe jumped and threw a hand across her heart. "Mr. Kent, you scared me to death." She bounced to her feet quickly and brushed the worst of the dust off her jeans. There went her plan to keep anyone from getting hurt or offended by super-psychic.

Jonathan, covered in a fine dusting of fertilizer and dirt, came walking over toward Chloe. "Sorry about that. I wasn't expecting anybody out here. Are you looking for Martha, or can I help you?"

I brought a psychic and he's chanting in your barn? Chloe grinned and shrugged. "Actually, I wasn't looking for either of you. I was looking for Clark. New strategy, I brought a psychic." Chloe winced internally at Mr. Kent's darkening frown and continued quickly. "I know I should have asked first, but he said that Clark's definitely alive, and he has a really good reputation."

"I don't believe in that kind of nonsense, Chloe. I don't want it on my land," Jonathan said. It wasn't a lie. He didn't believe in psychics. You wouldn't catch Jonathan Kent calling Ms. Cleo's magical hotline. On the off chance that he was wrong though, it was best to get Chloe's friend off the farm as soon as possible. There were too many secrets hiding around every corner. "Where is this psychic?"

Chloe pointed up. "I left him at Clark's telescope." A high pitched scream erupted from the loft where Chloe was pointing. "What the heck?"

"Your psychic?" Jonathan asked.


An intricate pattern, swirls of gold and silver, covered Clark's face and chest. All that remained of the elaborate Kryptonian attire the Eradicator had insisted upon was a simple pair of black pants. Dessa smiled down at her carefully worked masterpiece and wiped the last of the body paint from her hands. "It's time."

Clark couldn't see the hands, which lifted him from the ground and carried him forward. He could see Dessa now, so thin and gaunt like an emaciated waif. What did he face today? Ascension? There wasn't anything to be done. He couldn't run or beg. He couldn't fight or reason with this woman. At least he wasn't alone. Lola's song still hummed quietly through his mind. I will not die here. Whatever is coming, I'll face it and I'll survive.

A tiny proud smile flitted across Dessa's face. Most representatives to the Over Council never had the honor of overseeing an Ascension. "I envy you so," Dessa whispered.

Clark couldn't see the vat of thick black viscous fluid the anonymous hands began to lower him into. The last thing he saw before his head dropped below the syrupy fluid's surface was the enraptured face of Dessa, staring at him with her yellow snake eyes.


"Mr. Fisk?" Chloe approached the prostrate psychic with Mr. Kent following a step behind. The man was moaning and rocking. "Are you okay?"

"Can we help you?" Jonathan added. Was this guy for real? Shouting and flopping around on the floor, it seemed overly dramatic to be anything but an act.

Fisk had his eyes squeezed shut and sweat was pouring over his face. "Clark can't breath, can't move. It's too dark to see. So very dark here...have to face it, survive it. I won't die here!"

Chloe's heart leapt into her throat. Fisk's distinctive New York accent had had vanished. He'd sounded like Clark at the end, exactly like Clark. "Where is he Mr. Fisk?" Chloe's voice wavered and she dropped down to her knees next to Fisk.

Jonathan was speechless. Maybe, just maybe, this man was for real. Secrets be damned, if Fisk was in the moment with Clark...Jonathan would risk anything for a chance to find out what was happening to his son, even if he knew that they weren't going to find him. "Can you see Clark?"


Clark didn't panic right away. Sure he couldn't breathe or move and the black goop was burning like fire on his open eyes, but he couldn't believe that they'd gone through all this to just drown him. There had to be more to ascension than death, didn't there? The silence was the first thing that really spooked him. He'd lost Lola's song. The black goop was Lola proof apparently. Still, that was no reason to panic. Then he lost the pain. His eyes stopped burning and the sensation of wetness and clinging stickiness faded away from his limbs.

Blackness, inky and impenetrable filled the world. No light, sound, or sensation remained in him. Clark began to panic in earnest. Was this nothingness ascension? How long the time of silence and emptiness lasted, Clark couldn't tell. He only knew, if something didn't break through the black, he'd go insane.

As if in answer to Clark's distress, golden light came, banishing the blackness. Still there was no pain? His eyes should have been in agony adjusting to the new light. Clark didn't dwell on this inconsistency. The light was too valuable and welcome. The golden light was followed quickly by every other shade of the rainbow. What had been welcome soon became overwhelming, so much color, flashing and strobing and shifting. Occasionally a picture or a string of text would emerge, only to be overwhelmed by the chaos. Clark wished he could close his eyes or cover his face, but there was no respite from this onslaught.

Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, the colors vanished. A chorus of sounds began to swell almost immediately. There was no harmony or beauty. Every note was discord, like a thousand symphonies being played simultaneously without regard for one another. Stop! Clark wanted to shout. Please stop. It was too much. He was going to lose his mind. Those horrible sounds were going to scour him until there was nothing left.

And the blessed silence returned. Thank God.

After a short time, light and sound returned, together this time, but they didn't rise to a painful level. Before Clark's eyes the blank black world formed into a familiar structure. From the seventies style architecture to the little tables and multicolored plastic seats, it was his elementary school library. What is this place?

Without any fanfare, a being appeared behind the checkout desk. It was Ms. Duncan, skinny and prim and proper. "This place is the interface to the Kryptonian Over Council seat. It's configuration was taken from your mind."

Clark blinked slowly. He looked down and stared at his feet. "I can't feel anything. I'm numb. Why can't I feel anything?" Clark stared at his hands and rubbed them together. "Nothing."

"This program allows for sight and sound. No other sensations were coded," Ms. Duncan said.

Clark nodded, relieved at the explanation. His body was back there in the tar waiting for him to complete ascension. This wasn't real. "How do I complete ascension?"

"Ascension is complete."

"What?" What exactly had he done? "Define ascension. Tell me what it means."

"Certainly, the Over Council is the final executive branch to the Galactic Eruditocracy. All races are ruled by those with knowledge. Knowledge is equivalent to power quite literally.

"As it were, the societies with the most knowledge and wisdom are often those societies nearing their end. To preserve the knowledge without turning it over to the younger races who are not yet ready for such power, the Over Council seat was devised. The Over Council races compiled all their learning: science - poetry - music - literature – the waging of war - everything, into their seat or database.

"Ascension is the final step in the process. As the society enters its final decline, a leader or scholar is chosen to be the gatekeeper to their achievements for all eternity. That being's mind is written into the program."

Clark couldn't speak for a long moment. Eternity? He wasn't going to live forever. How could they expect him to be gatekeeper forever? "How do I get back to my real body?"

"You have no body. Ascension is eternal."


Like an avenging angel, the Eradicator burst through the doors to the inner antechamber to the Over Council. The only being present, Dessa, turned a haughty eye toward her. "Where is he?" the Eradicator said. She flew at the delicate little politician. "I have reconsidered ascension. He should make the decision himself. Don't even try to refuse me or command me. I could split this world in two and you know it."

Dessa nodded slowly. "I understand. Unfortunately, ascension is complete."

The Eradicator scanned the room slowly looking through the walls searching for one uniquely dense skeleton. There he was. In an instant she had Clark, covered in thick black liquid, but still alive. A child, the last Kryptonian, and she'd destroyed him. A new emotion, guilt, filled her. It was a horrible mistake. "Can it be reversed?"

"Of course not," Dessa said. "It is traditional to allow the body to die in symbolism of the rebirth cycle. You should return him to the bath of the ascendant."

The Eradicator lifted Clark's limp body into her arms and glared at Dessa murderously. "I will do no such thing." She held Clark close and strode purposefully for the door.

Dessa watched the Eradicator's silent but quick retreat and sighed. That weapon was highly unstable. Releasing her had been worth it though. The council was whole again. It had all been worth it.

"Dessa."

And Kal-El was a fast learner too. She turned to face the newly active screen against the wall. "Yes, Kal-El?" It was his face, the boy, which the Eradicator had taken. The fear was gone, replaced by righteous anger.

"You did this to me, without asking, without even considering my rights. My life is over. You ended my life!" Clark wished he had hands to reach out and shake the horrible woman. The last thing he would see with his own eyes had been those yellow snake's eyes. She was the last person he'd ever touch. He could still remember how chill and horrible her hands had felt, sliding over his chest and face. The sight of her brought out a murderous hate in his heart. Clark had never felt this kind of anger or darkness.

"Your life will never be over. You are eternal, an overlord, a God. This is an amazing new beginning. Embrace your destiny. It is a bright one." Dessa came forward and bowed slightly toward the screen.

Bright destiny? Eternal life? Clark wished he could cry. He was trapped. There was nothing to do, nowhere to go. Despair, thick and suffocating, filled him. "If I hadn't just been alive, I wouldn't know that this is death."