-- Chapter 22 -- On the Street --

The Eradicator spent the first hours following her audience with Kal-El alone, perched atop one of the highest buildings in the city. Like a beautiful gargoyle, she crouched, her flowing hair the only giveaway that she wasn't stone. Kal-El had called her a living being and had refused her the peace of mechanized thought. He had left her alone in the sea of confusion her mind was rapidly becoming. She should have gone to Clark straight away as she had been commanded, but she had manipulated the command from Kal-El. It was her desire, and she should never follow her own desire.

Why couldn't she just have peace, the peace of knowing what was right, by virtue of not understanding the concept of right and wrong? It had been so simple when the only truth was the command of the master, when the only need had been that of Krypton.

Without Kal-El's help, she could never have that peace again, and he would never give it to her. "You're pouting like a snubbed child," the Eradicator whispered. "You have a duty and a directive."

Weary in her mind and sick in her new untried heart, the Eradicator rose from her crouch. It was time to start her new directive, past time really. She would watch over Clark as his silent protector. She would follow her master's command and do her duty. The incessant thoughts and desires might remain, but she could resist them. She was still the Eradicator.

A flash of black against the early morning twilight, the Eradicator went to face her new responsibility.


Chloe stared at her reflection critically in the bathroom mirror. She needed a haircut. Her choppy locks were heading down her back, and the flip up feathery thing wasn't working like it was supposed to anymore. Well, she wasn't cutting it herself, and it was too late in the day to head down to Ms. Betty's beauty salon. "Stop girl, you don't get to invent another excuse to not do this." A haircut didn't count as a valid excuse for not facing Lex today, assuming she could even find the elusive fellow.

With a final adjustment to her black linen pants and pale pink blouse, Chloe headed for the door. Mentally, she arranged her game plan for the summer and the points she would need financial support on. Resolutely, she ignored the twinge inside that warned she was becoming too indebted to Lex. It was hard not feeling a little like a beggar, using Lex for his money. At first, when Lex thought they were going to really find Clark, it hadn't felt wrong. But now...could she really keep asking for his help?

"Daddy! I'm out of here for a little while," Chloe called. She could just hear the sound of bacon crackling on the stove. Chloe didn't wait for her dad to answer instead she headed outside onto the porch. It was such a perfect day: shining sun, crisp breeze, chirping birds, almost too perfect. Chloe scowled at the white splatters, presents from the oh-so-chirpy birds, dotting her dad's car. The little off white Toyota wasn't alone in the driveway though. Unless she missed her guess, that was the Kent's blue Chevy. Chloe heard the door squeak behind her and she turned quickly. "Mrs. Kent, hi."

"Good, I caught you," Martha said. "I came to see you, you know. Your dad was just telling me about the internship you won at the Daily Planet. He's very proud of you. I imagine you know that though."

"Sure he is, but he's biased." Chloe smiled and nodded, uncertainly. The Kents were nice people, but she'd never really been close with them, even after Clark disappeared and she spent so much time and effort looking for him. "You came to see me?"

"That's right," Martha said. "I know about all the hard work you've done, looking for Clark. You really care about him, and that is a wonderful gift. I know Clark would thank you if he were here." Martha faltered and shrugged. She and Jonathan didn't often fight, but they'd fought about Chloe. How were they supposed to convince her to stop looking for Clark and live her life? Martha's idea was simple: tell her the truth. "Would you like to take a drive with me, maybe?" Jonathan hadn't been easy to convince. Actually, he still wasn't convinced. Instead of sticking around to help, he'd headed out to till the east fields without a word to her this morning. He'd had his say, and in the end, Martha had threatened to tell Chloe anyway, whether he agreed or not. The girl had looked too long and hard for them to keep shutting her out now that her efforts on Clark's behalf were hurting her. Jonathan just didn't see it that way.

"Okay," Chloe said. "Want me to drive, or will you?"


A little niche between two buildings, dark and damp but also secluded and safe, served as the sanctuary for one confused amnesiac alien. Clark sat quietly relishing freedom from pain if not from hunger or confusion. He was going to have to do something soon about the hunger. His stomach had started making loud gurgling noises that morning. He'd spent most of the night, running over the things he knew to be true: he was patient 3573, possibly named Clark, he was prone to hallucinations and hearing voices, he could survive long falls, and cats could talk. Well the last one wasn't certain. Could he really assume that cats talked? Maybe that had been another hallucination? Could he trust anything he saw?

The hallucinations had been different than the cat though. He'd known they weren't real, and now they'd abandoned him. Where was a good hallucination when you needed some advice? With a determined sigh, Clark made his way to the edge of the alleyway and peeked his head around the corner.

The quiet abandoned streets of the night were now filled with...not people, creatures. Clark stayed back, well out of sight and just watched. He wasn't terrified like he'd been at first when the streets first came to life. It had taken some time to realize that those things weren't concerned with him. He might as well be invisible. Now he just stared in rapt silence from the safety of his niche. The creatures were all so different. He couldn't help wondering how the giants kept from accidentally squashing the smaller creatures, or how any of them could communicate what they were trying to do. After a while he started to see a pattern, the little creatures stayed right in the walking path, while the largest stayed strictly left. What made it confusing were the more mid-sized creatures weaving their way amongst the others without any seeming pattern.

Not one of the pedestrians looked like him. Sure, some of them walked upright, even on two limbs, but there would be a radical difference, usually several: plumage, glowing eyes, or iridescent scales. It didn't matter how freakish they all were. He couldn't stop looking for someone like himself. People like him obviously existed somewhere. If he could find them, they would help him, wouldn't they?

Clark's stomach made itself heard again with a deep hollow growl. I need food, and I need help. The question of the hour was how to go about finding either.


Chloe stretched her hand out the truck window and let it sail up and down in the wind. "So, how is the farm? I heard that you guys signed a good deal with Lex."

Martha nodded and flexed her fingers around the steering wheel. "Good news travels fast. Lex has been very kind." Martha could hear the words in her head, different ways to tell Chloe everything, but nothing felt right. Maybe she was wrong, and Jonathan was right? "I guess you're curious about why I showed up on your doorstep this morning."

"A little," Chloe said. It had to be about Clark and her campaign to find him. Part of her wanted Mrs. Kent to thank her and praise her, to tell her that what she was doing was wonderful and selfless. Somehow she doubted that's what this was going to be. Mrs. Kent had opened up pretty quickly with a mention of the old Daily Planet internship, and Chloe figured this was going to be a polite request for her to look after her future. Pete had probably instigated it all. He was determined to nip her summer plans in the bud.

"I can pretty much guarantee that it isn't what you think. Pete's really worried about you, and he came to see Jonathan and I about you skipping your internship." Martha could see Chloe rolling her eyes. "Don't be angry with Pete for looking out for you. He's trying to be a good friend."

"I'm not mad at Pete for looking out for me," Chloe said. I'm mad because he won't believe that Clark's alive. "I'm not mad about anything." Chloe frowned out the window. They were pulling into the Kent's driveway. "What are we doing anyway?"

"I'm going to show you something, give you a gift that Clark always wanted you to have, but we never let him share it. We just wanted to keep him safe. It's still all we ever wanted." Martha killed the truck and threw her door open.

Chloe felt a chill race up her spine. A gift Clark wanted her to have? What could Mrs. Kent possibly be talking about? "Okay, a gift?" Chloe followed Mrs. Kent into the yard and across to the storm cellar.

Martha felt her heart racing and she hesitated. Could she do this? Was this the right thing? "I'm sorry." Martha wiped at the tears pooling in her eyes. "I don't know if this is the right thing. If I tell you this and show you this, you can't ever tell anyone. You have to swear to me."

The gift was a secret. Chloe felt a calmness wash through her. The mysterious Clark Kent had secrets. Everyone who knew him at all could see that. "I'd never hurt Clark or tell his secrets. I think I've proved my friendship and loyalty."

"That you have," Jonathan said.

Martha felt a sob swelling in her at the sound of her husband's voice. He pushed the door to the storm cellar open and joined his wife. "Are you really okay with this?" Martha whispered.

Jonathan shrugged and took Martha's hand. "I trust your instincts, and Clark would never forgive us if we let Chloe blow off the Daily Planet for a wild goose chase."

"What wild goose chase? You've given up on him too. I didn't think you ever would," Chloe said.

"You don't understand. We know where Clark is, who the Eradicator is, and why you're never going to find him no matter how hard you look," Martha said. With Jonathan standing beside her, supporting this decision, the words came so much easier.

"You know where Clark is?" Unspeakably outlandish possibilities started floating through Chloe's mind. Maybe the Kents were in on this with the Eradicator? Maybe Clark was dead. Chloe couldn't help staring at the storm cellar. Were they going to show her a corpse down there? Angrily, Chloe squashed that line of reasoning. It didn't make sense. The Kents weren't insane or Machiavellian, and they loved Clark. Unbidden, another possibility immediately took the place of the last. Maybe Clark was really a meteor mutant, and he'd gotten out of control. Maybe they had him in the storm cellar to keep him from wreaking havoc, but then where did the Eradicator tie in? "Tell me what you know before my imagination creates anything else for this to be." If they didn't tell her, this hinting was going to drive her crazy.

"You won't find Clark because the Eradicator took him home." Martha looked up at Jonathan. The right words had abandoned her again.

"Clark is an alien, Chloe," Jonathan said. "He came down with the meteor shower."


Four strong but delicate hands covered in gold and platinum jewelry rested together on a clear crystal table. Aislinn, the owner of those four hands, blinked her ebony eyes and stretched like a cat, pieces of jewelry tinkling as they slid down her arms. The crimson material dripping from her ample curves accented her pink skin and its streaks of black. She grimaced at the bright white sun and shook out the wild turfs of black hair covering her scalp and forearms.

Tiredly she wandered over to her window to seal out the sun and get some sleep. It had been a long night. If she'd shut the window without looking out onto the street she would never have seen it, the lost puppy skulking in her alley. She did look though. It was the hospital gown that caught her eye first, but the look in his eyes was unmistakable. Aislinn felt no pity for the fear or the hunger in those eyes. There were a hundred thousand homeless aliens wandering the streets of this planet and they were all afraid and starving to one degree or another. She did feel the thrill of possibility. He was exotic and moved with grace that implied physical strength. She had customers who would be interested in such a delectable piece of flesh.

Granted, she'd need a closer look to make sure he was as tasty as he seemed. Not to mention that he might not be interested in her type of employment. Aislinn grinned when she got another look at those eyes, confused, scared. He needed help, a good Samaritan to come to his rescue. "Look out, little puppy. Here I come."


Dark circles, slumped shoulders, drooping eyelids, Lex looked like pure Hell. Absently shining coffee mugs, Lana watched her silent partner surreptitiously. She didn't know what he was doing, why he'd been camped out in one of the back booths all day, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. She snapped up one of her newly shined mugs and filled it with coffee.

Lex stared at the photos strewn across the table in front of him. He'd found Fisk's weak spot. The smell of blood was practically in the air. His daughter was in college on scholarship, incredibly vulnerable. The man really seemed to love her, to want the best for her. Lex shifted the pictures: a little girl hugging her dad, an older girl throwing her mortar board at graduation. Could he really threaten this girl to control the father? Was that really in him? Lex rubbed at his eyes wearily. He'd been from Smallville to Colorado and back again in less than twenty-four hours, and now he had to decide, to extort or not to extort. Were you supposed to make vital life decisions when heavily jet-lagged?

"Coffee?" Lana asked. She felt a little stupid standing there with an unasked for steaming mug. "Sorry, I know you didn't order it."

"Maybe, it'll do me some good," Lex said. The coffee did feel good, hot and bitter in his mouth. "Thanks." Lana Lang, High-School-princess and bearer of coffee, reminded him why he was contemplating this mess. This girl was Clark's dream, and Lex meant for him to get a chance to have it.

Lana knew that this was the part where she smiled and walked away, but she lingered. "You can tell me to go away if you want, but it's pretty slow right now, and I'm a good listener."

"I must look pretty pathetic," Lex said. "It's jet lag I assure you, nothing to worry about." Jet lag and nefarious machinations could be truly draining. Lex smirked to himself and downed the rest of the coffee. Clark would never approve of this little plot. He would probably be quite appalled. "I think I've just decided to sleep on this little project. Hit it with a fresh mind tomorrow."

"Well good luck with it," Lana said. She retreated back behind her counter and watched Lex make his exit. Sometimes it was hard to believe that he was only twenty-one. Lana caught Lex's eye as he glanced over his shoulder, and she shivered. Sometimes he just seemed so very old.


A bed neatly made up in a room devoid of light, accused with its emptiness. The Eradicator stood silently staring as though Clark might reappear if she waited and willed it to be so. The command had been simple, watch over Clark and wait for his recovery. She'd botched her first order from Kal-El, and now she was frozen in the agony of that failure. She had to snap out of it. She was THE Eradicator. She'd held men's hearts in her fist, ravaged worlds, annihilated civilizations. "You are not a woman...not alive...not weak," she whispered. This was no time to surrender to emotion. Logic would salvage this debacle. Reporting failure to Kal-El was not an option. If she had to live with these distracting paralyzing emotions, then she would learn to be their master. She had conquered greater things.

"First, I'll find out what happened here. Comatose Kryptonians do not vanish, and I don't fail."