- Chapter 28 – Reckless Behavior -
Determined to ignore the sound of children talking, Reo paced while twirling a graduated wrench. Her ship, a growing conglomeration of spliced technology, stared back at its creator, still useless without a power core. With Clark, they had recovered a dozen blue specimens of Kryptonium, an ore that Krypton had used to power their technology, a technology that had allowed them to dominate their corner of the galaxy.
Unfortunately, Reo had no idea how to use such crystals. Unlike most cultures Kryptonian technology had never trickled out to the other "lesser" civilizations in any form. She had a vague notion about the biological ties between Kryptonians and their crystal-based technology. To use their toys, you had to be of their blood.
Technically she had a smidgeon of Kryptonian blood in her veins. Maybe she could make this technology work?
With a grimace Reo tapped one of the crystals with her wrench. She thumped it, squeezed it in her palm, even shoved it into her forehead. No spark rewarded her efforts.
"Come on rocks." Reo bit her lower lip and tried different mechanisms on the powerful crystals. "Wouldn't you like to power my vessel?"
"They don't speak English or Galactic standard yet," Clark said.
Looking a bit guilty, Reo removed her handheld spectrometer from the table. "Good morning. You're looking more lively. Of course, I know these belong to you."
The moment Clark entered the room and began to speak, the previously dormant crystals sparkled and vibrated, as though he was the sun at the center of their universe. "Can you hear them? They don't belong to me. If you want their help powering your ship, that's between you and them." He grinned and circled the table. "There were just three in the box that I started with. The others came to the energy surge. It was the most amazing rush."
Reo frowned, not completely understanding Clark's running monologue. "I tried talking to your crystal friends. They didn't have much to say to me."
"Like I said, they don't speak your language yet," he replied simply.
"Whatever you were doing out there with these crystals of yours, it gave off a lot of energy. I know this planet isn't very advanced, but some of these humans might have noticed, wouldn't you think." The kid wasn't even looking at her, too busy cataloguing his new toys. "Are you always so reckless?"
"I'm working with less than a year of concrete memories." Clark grinned to himself. "Patterns are just beginning to establish themselves." He stepped back from the collection of blue rocks. "Can these guys stay with you? I don't really have a safe place for them. You could try to talk them into helping you."
"Of course they can stay. I'm running a home for indigent extraterrestrials." Reo looked at the valuable rocks with poorly disguised desire. "You think they'll help me?"
"If you can figure out how to make them an offer." Clark backed toward the exit. "I have to go. If the energy surge was dramatic enough to draw attention, my parents may be worried." He surveyed the piles of disassembled junk. "I don't suppose you have a phone?"
"A what?" Reo asked.
"Never mind. I'll see you Reo. Thanks for looking out for me." Clark took off running, a smile creeping back onto his face. He might have put on a display, and he might be in some trouble for it, but a dozen pieces of Kryptonite were now blue, virtually harmless Kryptonium. It was a victory and he felt amazing. His feet hardly touched the ground as he breezed through the countryside.
Turning down the speed, he stopped while still under cover in a stand of drying cornstalks. Déjà vu struck for the millionth time, and Clark knew he had viewed the simple clapboard farmhouse from exactly this vantage thousands of times. His mother was visible though the kitchen window, working over the sink. Would she be angry with him? He sucked in a breath sharply, realizing he wanted her and his father to be angry. As mature and understanding as he was trying to be, he wanted to punish them for harming Lola.
He could go in and have a fight with his mother over sneaking out and his "reckless" behavior, or he could head over to Chloe's before anyone tried to ground him and share his victory.
It really wasn't a choice at all.
The run to Chloe's house, took less than a minute. He considered ringing the bell, but opted to stay off the radar and headed for her window. His recent conversation with Reo about emerging behavioral patterns came to mind as he quietly scaled a tree and transitioned to the sloped roof that led to the room of and hopefully person he habitually sought out. How many times had he ended up on this roof recently? It was still pretty early for a non-farm kid on a Saturday. Chloe might still be asleep. Undeterred, Clark extended a hand to tap at the window lightly and paused, his knuckle a millimeter from contact.
The interplay of energy wasn't obvious, and he never would have noticed it if Lola hadn't taught him to be aware of the energy flow of his cells, but he was aware, and he felt the tug of Kryptonite sucking gently at the energy it could reach. This wasn't the ravenous devouring he usually associated with Kryptonite. It was calmly insistent and there was something else. Clark closed his eyes and half-smiled. This felt good.
Lola? Was this red Kryptonite then? Clark went ahead and tapped at the glass, eager to have confirmation of his suspicion. He waited for thirty seconds and tapped again. Chloe might be asleep or out or anything. It wasn't like he had called ahead. He tapped again irrationally impatient. He began to consider breaking the glass and exploring for himself. His fingers itched to find the source of the intoxicating energy pulse.
Red Kryptonite is chaos.
The warning words lingered in his head and for a brief moment he considered descending from the roof and passing safely through the front door so that Chloe could confine any dangerous Kryptonite to another room. He tapped the window again, slightly louder. Before he could properly contemplate the pros and cons of 'accidentally' going ahead and breaking the window, the curtains shifted back and Chloe's face appeared, a frown turning her lips down - very pretty, soft lips if memory served. What would they taste like this morning? His smile widened and his heart beat faster, the pulse from the Kryptonite changing to amplify the new pleasurable emotion he had given it.
Chaos? Red Kryptonite was amazing. Clark looked down at the window ledge and could just see the red crystal responsible for his ramped up emotions.
Chloe followed his gaze and her eyes widened. Without opening the window, she snatched the red rock up and sealed it in her fist. Clark had taken the lead box with him. She pushed the window up and stepped back, unsure how to proceed.
"Should I take it to the kitchen? Is it making you sick?" Chloe asked, concern wrinkling her forehead. "I'll just take it to the kitchen." Before she could turn, Clark was in her room and standing very close, one hand closed over her clenched fist.
"Don't go," Clark said quickly. "It doesn't hurt. It's... intoxicating." He leaned his head down, so that the last word was whispered into her ear. He pulled her closer and kissed her neck. She smelled like soap and underneath, like a human, salty and sweet.
Shivering, Chloe managed to pull back a step and looked up into Clark's eyes, wild ravenous eyes. His grip on her wrist tightened and he cocked his head to the side. For the first time ever, Chloe felt a twinge of real fear that Clark might accidentally hurt her. She knew exactly who and what he was. She had come to grips with it. But this red rock was changing the rules quickly. Intoxicating, he'd said. Having an intimate moment with an intoxicated Clark seemed highly dangerous to her. Her wrist began to throb, and Chloe pulled ineffectually against the pure iron that was Clark's grip. "You're hurting me."
The strange look in his eyes cleared and he released her abruptly. "Get that out of here," Clark commanded. "While I still have the sense to let you."
Oblivion ought to last forever.
Kal-El had banked on it when orchestrating his destruction. Out of the dark of nothing, smell returned first. Not smell as he remembered it, but a dissection of the gas in his nose that filled his mind with pointless, unending lists and data.
20.95% Oxygen
78.09% Nitrogen
0.93% Argon
0.02% Carbon Dioxide
0.0018%Neon
0.0005%Helium
0.0005%Xenon
0.000008%Ozone
The gas entered his nasal passages but only swirled passively; no inhalations drove mixing of the vapors. He willed the lists away and they receded without disappearing, background noise.
Touch followed soon, a prickling over his nose and face, hands and feet, every inch of him was a sensation. A new array of data lists inundated him, barometric pressures for each square inch of skin, gravitation stress on each contact point to the bed he reclined on.
I'm reclining and smelling, Kal-El thought, frowning mentally. But the sensations were so alien, so sterile and mechanical. He could almost believe that this was still his Over Council prison. But that Hell had no sensations, not even strange sterile ones.
The return of sound came so abruptly that he could focus on nothing else for several long minutes. The minutia of data overwhelmed his ability to filter. A repeating cadence helped him push the unimportant noises into the background with his growing backlog of constant data. The oscillation of sound became a known voice, his Eradicator's voice. Kal-El focused until the sounds became words.
"you can hear me. I will repeat this until you make a verbal or non verbal indication that you can hear me. I will repeat this until you make a verbal on non verbal indication that you can hear me."
The monotonous phrase soon grated on his nerves and Kal-El tried to move the mouth he could feel. Shut up and explain, he wanted to shout, but only a garbled groan escaped his lips.
"There you are," the Eradicator said. "Don't try to speak or move. The peripheral neuro-paths haven't completely activated. This process will take time and adjustment. As you are awakening I will explain your situation."
Though he could not see or even blink, Kal-El glared with every ounce of hate inside him. Explain why I'm not dead, he wanted to shout at her. Explain your betrayal.
"As you are obviously aware, I couldn't kill you like you wanted, but I couldn't ignore your suffering either. You sent me into the wild galaxy with a vague mission designed to teach me to kill you. Your mission failed in its primary endeavor, but it did teach me to be innovative, creative."
Her hands were on his hands, gentle pressure sending new waves of data through his already overloaded mind. Creative? Define creative!
"Using my own specifications as a guide, I constructed a body for you. It isn't perfection, not like a true Kryptonian body. Eradicators are flawed tools that only emulate the form of their creators, but this body will offer you arms and legs, sensation and freedom. If you want death, a wish I can't grant, you can seize it for yourself as soon as the body is completely active. I wouldn't stop you."
The return of sight came as abruptly as sound. Light, shadow, images, refraction angles, so much information to just paint a picture of a room in his mind. The Eradicator, her pale impassive face hovering over him, was almost comforting. He almost didn't hate her for failing him in his hour of need.
Kal-El stared with wide unblinking eyes, and he saw himself in the reflective walls. That was Clark Kent's face, his hair and lips, his fingers half curled into fists. She hadn't just made him an Eradicator, she had molded a perfect sculpture of the living creature he used to be. How cruel she was, he thought savagely. If his hands would have obeyed, he'd have struck her then, destroyed her for playing games with him, for taunting him.
Contemplating her destruction, his lips curled into a smile. Very soon destroying her wouldn't just be a fantasy. It would be a tangible option. He had hands, fists, feet, and legs. He could see and hear. The entire universe was open to him again. She gave it back to him.
Maybe he wouldn't destroy her?
Or maybe he would.
His smile broadened.
Freedom.
Author's Note:
Yeah, I know it hasn't been a week. After leaving a fic high and dry for over a year, I just have a hard time justifying making anyone wait when there are chapters stockpiled.
You'll probably notice that the red K in this chapter made Clark insane rather fast. The logic there is that Lola, even insane already knows Clark and knows him well enough to push all his buttons and have him bananas in record time.
