Chapter 6
Jordan pushed all the fear and self-doubt out of his mind as he stared at the electrical board, willing the power within him to obey his internal commands.
He'd spent so much of his life feeling powerless. Suffering from social anxiety disorder hadn't exactly done him any favours in high school social circles. He'd been bullied for years and he thought that was never going to change - but when he'd fallen from that ladder in the barn, something had shifted inside him. He felt a kind of power come over him that most people would never experience.
As he focused on the RVs controls, he felt himself connecting to that power. He willed all of his energy towards his intended target and let out a scream, as two fiery streams of heat vision burst from his eyes and hit the electrical board. It sparked and cracked, shorting out with a few loud bangs until the security systems controls were left burnt and smouldering.
His brother began to cough as the smoke filling the tiny RV invaded his airways. Jordan pulled his arm up to cover his nose and mouth. With the controls down, the metal walls receded quickly, and the RV returned to it's pre lockdown state.
Jonathan didn't hesitate – he was up on his feet and headed straight for the RV's door, kicking it repeatedly with as much force as he could. Jordan joined him quickly, throwing his full weight behind each kick. His powers hadn't returned, but he had to hope their combined efforts would be enough to break through.
Finally the door burst open and they tumbled out of the motor home and into the darkness of what seemed like an abandoned factory
Everything was illuminated an eerie red and Jordan felt a weird, draining sensation washing over him. Then he felt it. The pain he'd experienced for the first time less than an hour before. Pain like he'd never felt before in his life.
He searched around for its possible source, his eyes landing on a glowing green chunk of rock on the factory floor.
Jonathan squinted as his vision adjusted. He caught sight of two figures to his left highlighted by beams of red light.
What he saw was like a scene from a horror movie.
'Oh my god, dad!' Jonathan breathed.
He'd been playing out worst case scenarios in his head the whole time they were in the RV, but what he saw now made his blood run cold.
John Henry Irons was standing over their badly beaten & unconscious dad, holding some kind of bladed green weapon over his heart and getting ready to bury it in his chest.
'STOP!' Jonathan cried out as loudly as he could, his voice bouncing around the old buildings acoustics. 'Please, don't kill him!' he pleaded.
'Get out of here kid,' the man said gruffly, refusing to look away from his target. 'You don't want to see this.'
'No!' Jonathan exclaimed, 'You can't do this!'
'Jon!' Jordan called out weakly from behind him, slumping against the front of the RV and squinting anxiously from the red lights to the small green rock still sitting on the factory floor.
Jonathan looked back at his brother and watched in horror as he lost consciousness and collapsed completely.
The red lights & kryptonite were clearly affecting him too, and if they'd made it so his dad was vulnerable enough to be beaten this badly, it was no surprise that Jordan would have no hope of fighting it off.
Swallowing the growing lump in his throat, Jonathan turned back to his dad's attacker. As much as it frightened him, he knew - it was all up to him now.
'You should get your brother out of here,' the man suggested, looking conflicted about continuing with an audience.
Jonathan regarded his brother with concern. He had no idea what damage every second of exposure would do to him, but… he wasn't the one about to have a giant kryptonite knife plunged into his chest.
'I'm not going anywhere,' Jonathan stated defiantly.
He tried to sound confident, but his wavering voice gave away his nerves. The man growled in frustration.
'Suit yourself,' he said, turning back to his dad and lifting the blade again.
'Wait!' Jon cried out desperately, searching his mind for what to say to try to get through to him. 'I… I know about Natalie!' he exclaimed in a rush.
That caught the man's attention. He spun around and glared at him angrily for daring to say his daughter's name.
Jonathan trembled involuntarily. He pushed on despite the fear that coursed through him, drawing on strength he didnt even know he had.
'I… I saw your pictures. And the video. I saw what happened to my mom,' he explained, his face giving away the horror of the experience. 'I saw who my dad was. What he did.'
The man looked back down at his victim hungrily, and Jonathan quickly continued.
'I saw a lot about you too,' he said, raising his voice but taking great care with his tone. 'I saw about your daughter, Natalie.'
The man seemed to swallow a lump in his throat.
'You seemed like a really good dad,' Jonathan continued, his heart pounding in his chest.
He could see that he was having some kind of impact, but he didn't know how long it would last.
'I just need you to know… This guy you're about to kill…' he said, glancing towards his father's lifeless form, tears brimming in his eyes and his voice beginning to crack. 'He's a really good dad, too.'
The man gritted his teeth, seemingly trying to push back against some potential empathy.
'I'm sorry son, but there's no other way,' he pushed back, but Jonathan could hear his conviction wavering.
'There's always another way,' Jonathan stated simply, sounding much more confident than he felt.
His assertion hung in the air, and John Irons seemed unable to fight his simple words, like it was truth he'd once believed himself.
'Please. Killing my dad won't bring them back,' Jonathan continued. 'They're gone, and it's not your fault, but it's not his fault, either. You're punishing the wrong person.'
'You don't know what's coming,' he told the boy gravely, still refusing to take his eyes of his dad's unconscious form.
'Neither do you!' Jonathan exclaimed. 'I know my dad. I know he would never turn on us. Not ever. I don't know what happened on your world… but it's different here. My dad is different. He has never done anything but try to help people his whole life. How does killing someone who's done nothing wrong make anything better?'
Jonathan could feel the strength of his words as they tumbled out of him.
'Please… if you murder my dad, you're not saving the world. You're just destroying mine.'
John could feel himself losing his internal battle as the young boys impassioned pleas hit him in waves.
His heart twisted painfully in his chest as both love and grief entered in where there had been only rage a few moments before. He knew he should just ignore the boy and finish his mission, but something within him kept him rooted to the spot.
He'd been able to lose himself in the fury when it was just him and the man whose faced haunted his nightmares. It had been life and death. Black and white. Now this boy innocently pleading for his father's life was making everything turn a murky grey.
John Irons looked back down at the unconscious man beneath him, still holding the weapon over him shakily. He felt a pang of guilt as he noted the extent of the damage he'd done to the man already.
But… it was the right thing to do, wasn't it? He was saving lives… wasn't he?
The complex mix of emotions the young man had tapped into felt like hot lava in his chest. He'd been stuffing it all down for so long – all the horrific things he'd seen in the fight against the Kryptonians. Lex's brutal death. Losing the General. The unbearable pain of watching his wife being burned alive on television and holding his traumatised daughter as they grieved together in an underground bunker, the world above turning to ash.
And then finding himself in this world. Separated from her by time & space with no way to return. The aching guilt and shame of knowing that he'd failed in his promise to kill the Kal-El of his world and that meant he'd likely left her there to die.
All of the agony of loss and trauma rose up in his chest and his heart felt like it might explode. He let out a primal scream of anguish that left his throat horse and his eyes wet with tears, before throwing the bladed weapon as far as he could across the factory floor.
John hung his head in defeat and pressed a button on the wrist of his gauntlet.
The solar lights shut down one by one and were replaced by regular white lights. He picked up the chunk of kryptonite off the floor and placed it in a lead case tucked behind the work bench.
Once the case was shut, he fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands, letting the grief and sadness take hold of him completely.
I'm so sorry Natalie, he cried out internally.
Jonathan let out the breath he'd been holding in as he watched the man's outburst. He heard his brother begin to stir and rushed over to his side.
'Are you okay?' Jonathan asked Jordan, helping him to his feet.
'I'm fine,' his brother assured him, resting slightly against the front of the RV while he waited to regain some strength. 'Go, help dad,' he said urgently.
Jonathan rushed over to their father's side. His face was covered in nasty cuts and bruises and his nose was clearly broken. There were marks on his neck that looked like he'd been strangled, and his skin had taken on a grey-green tinge.
'Dad?' he said shakily, pressing two fingers into his father's neck to feel for a pulse like he'd been taught to in health class.
'Is he?' Jordan asked quietly as he took a few wobbly steps over.
'I don't know,' Jonathan responded, looking up at his brother anxiously.
He hadn't felt anything obvious, but he didn't know whether maybe his dad's heartbeat was different to other people's.
A loud juddering sound accompanied by strong gusts of wind suddenly shook the building, causing them to turn their heads towards the roof. A bright spotlight shone through the broken windows in the ceiling, and they recognised the outline of a helicopter coming into land.
They looked at each other with relief & hope. Jonathan only knew one person who was likely to be flying a helicopter out to the abandoned factory in Smallville they happened to be held captive in.
Within seconds, a swarm of DOD soldiers entered the building.
Several of them beelined straight for John Irons, surrounding him with raised weapons. He placed his hands behind his head in surrender, nothing left to fight for. One of the soldiers spoke into a radio, notifying someone on the other end that they had their target in custody. The rest began searching the building for any other dangers.
Two men rushed over to him and his brother, their guns lowered and a reassuring expression on their faces.
'Don't worry, you're safe now,' one of them said as they knelt beside them.
'Are either of you injured?' the other asked.
'No, we're fine,' Jonathan confirmed, shaking himself out of the shock induced stupor he had fallen momentarily into. 'You have to help him,' he said, pointing towards his dad's still unmoving form.
They signalled towards a couple of soldiers with slightly different uniforms. One of them had a bag of medical supplies like a paramedic and the other carried a backpack with some kind of machine Jonathan recognised as a defibrillator.
He looked up as Jordan's attention shifted in the direction the soldiers had came in from and saw their mom and grandpa rushing over to them.
'Mom!' they both cried out in unison, desperately grateful to see her.
'Boys!' Lois shrieked as she flung herself at them both, pulling them into her embrace.
Jonathan felt himself let go of the forced strength he'd tried to keep up to get them through the ordeal.
He sobbed furiously into her chest, aware his brother was doing the same.
Lois' eyes brimmed with tears as she held her boys tightly, trying to hide her own horror as she looked down at her husband's badly beaten form.
She watched on helplessly as the medics cut open his suit and used the defibrillator to try and start up his heart.
Lois could only stand by helplessly as they placed paddles on his horribly bruised chest and sent jolts of electricity through his body.
After a few unsuccessful attempts, one of the medics finally called out, 'He's got a pulse!'
They sounded genuinely relieved and Lois noticed all the soldiers standing by seemed to visibly relax.
It was no surprise to her. Superman was more to them than just some mission – most of them owed him their lives.
The medic on the other side lifted an oxygen mask over Superman's nose and mouth, being careful to avoid the injuries to his face.
Lois gently pulled the boys back from her embrace. Her dad took over, placing his hands on their shoulders protectively as she took her place by her husband's side.
One of the medics moved slightly so that she could get closer. They knew the general's daughter and the man of steel were close.
'Superman, can you hear me?' she said, taking his hand softly in her own, wishing she could call him by his real name. 'You have to fight, okay. You have to come back to us.'
Not quite knowing if it was real or just wishful thinking, she thought she saw him twitch ever so slightly at the sound of her voice.