2. The Man of Tomorrow

Barry shivered and rubbed his arms again. Despite wearing enough layers of clothing to resemble a puffy snowman, the wind cut through like a knife through hot butter and he felt chilled to his bones anyway. His face, despite being covered in a scarf for the lower half and in reflective goggles for the upper half, felt like it was just about frozen already.

"Are you sure you couldn't have dropped me off any closer?" Barry yelled out.

A crackle came through in his ear. "I'm afraid that it was the closest usable runway this far north, Master Allen," Alfred's steady tone replied. "You had to make the rest of the journey on foot."

"And—and you're sure that there's something, I don't know, out here?" Barry asked, wildly gesticulating with both arms despite no one, including Alfred, being able to see him.

"Master Wayne indicated that Master Kent was in his… I believe he called it a Fortress, and his last mapping of the area should be accurate."

"Right," Barry muttered. He trudged forward through the snow. An itch grew in him to run at the superspeed he knew he could, but he repressed it. At best, it would burn all the clothes and gear off of him and then he would both freeze and starve to death in the middle of nowhere, and at worst, he would just keel over in exhaustion and die. "Next time, tell Bruce to do this himself."

"Master Wayne has already completed the trek before," Alfred responded matter-of-factly. "It took him two and a half hours."

Barry checked his watch, worn in reverse on his wrist. "What the? Seriously? I've already been out here for three hours."

"Master Wayne is also an Olympian-level athlete. Outside of your… powers, are you?" Alfred sounded marginally feistier than before.

"Touché, Alfred," Barry groaned, struggling to pull himself up a shelf of ice that protruded about two feet above him. "Touché." He pulled himself up, panting as he lay belly-down on the sheet of ice. "I can barely even see where I'm going."

"Maintain your course," Alfred's rough tone came back, "and y—" The radio devolved into static before turning into silence.

"Well, that's great," Barry muttered to himself, pushing himself off the ground. "Just eyeball it, I guess." He walked forward, feeling the ice slightly crunch under his feet. The view before him was virtually homogenous save for the odd hill that sloped out of his sight and the mountains in the distance.

Suddenly, the wind picked up and Barry felt himself almost float. Visibility dropped to near-zero as snow began to blanket the air. Gusts that felt as powerful as a tornado ripped through, forcing Barry to flatten himself against the ground in an effort to stay in place.

"Alfred!" he yelled, but no reply was forthcoming. He tried to claw into the snow and ice, but there was no handhold to be found, and he felt himself slipping on the ice sheet.

"No! Help!" Barry screamed, feeling himself being blown away. In that moment, he tried entering the Speed Force, but his feet had no purchase on the ground and he felt himself get flung across the air before tumbling down a hill. As he rolled, he tried to stop himself by extending out his arms, but instead he felt his right arm collide into a sharp rock protruding from the slope.

"Agh!" The arm crumpled under the collision and Barry continued to roll until he no longer felt the ground. Instead, he heard a splash and felt icy cold water surround him, permeating every layer of clothing he wore and pulling him down. Instantly, he felt bereft of strength, unable to try and claw his way back up to the surface with his one good arm, too weighed down by his clothing and gear to kick up. His feet felt like lead, and all he could think about was how he was slowly sinking…

The last thing Barry saw was a figure plunge into the water above him before his eyes closed.

"So, you're fast."

"Barry, you're my best student, but it feels like you hardly even pay attention most of the time."

"You need to stop worrying about your old man."

"I had a great time tonight, Barry. I'd love to do this again."

"He was an infant when we left. The last son of Krypton."

"Don't waste your life on me, Barry. I want you to live your life, not try to fix mine."

"Do you know what this symbol stands for?"

A groan slipped out of Barry's mouth as he tossed and turned in his sheets. Finally, he felt enough strength push open his heavy eyelids. He felt warm – far warmer than he had since coming to this part of the world and leaving Bruce's private jet. A heavy wool blanket was draped over him, and he felt himself in a comfortable set of pajamas as well. Pajamas that he didn't own and didn't put on himself.

He sat up straight, eyes fully open and looking around. The room was alien to him in its design – not the Kryptonian ship that he had remembered, where they had carted in Clark's corpse to revive from death. That ship was all rounded curves and gentle slopes. This ship was more angular, though not so much so that he would call it boxy. If he were to be honest, it was more Star Wars than it was the Kryptonian design of his past life.

The door slid open and a tall, broad-shouldered man walked in. Even out of uniform and even with a different face, Barry instantly knew who he was looking at. That aura was unmistakable on any world.

"I hope you're feeling better," Clark Kent said with a smile. He was dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a flannel shirt, and he had a wrapped-up sandwich in one hand that he offered to Barry. "You took a little dive there. It was touch and go for a little bit, but you look alright now."

Barry nodded and quickly took the sandwich, feeling the gnawing hunger in his stomach. Quickly unwrapping it, he devoured half of it in two bites, savoring the fresh taste and juicy cuts inside. He also took the opportunity to furtively examine Clark. Compared to the one he had known, this Clark was younger and more fresh-faced, but he had similar features overall. They wouldn't ever be mistaken as the same person or even brothers, but the physical presence was nearly identical.

"It's from a local shop," Clark noted, clearly noting Barry's pleasure with the sandwich. "Well, local is relative, I suppose. It's down in Montreal. A little hole in the wall – they make a mean sandwich every time."

"I completely agree," Barry said with his mouth stuffed. Clark nodded.

"So, what brings you here?"

Barry wiped off a little mustard that had accumulated in the corner of his lips. "Batman sent me."

"I see." Clark's tone was difficult to decipher for Barry. "And I assume you're a metahuman as well?"

Barry nodded. "Yeah."

"That explains the arm," Clark stated, folding his arms. Barry looked down at his right arm. "The bone is fully healed from a compound fracture even though you've only been here for about twelve hours."

"Wait, twelve hours?" Barry exclaimed, jumping up in his onesie pajama. "What day is it?"

"The twenty-ninth," Clark said. He turned slightly as if he was staring through the wall of the room. "Just about eleven in the morning."

Barry felt a little knot of tension in his stomach. The day drew closer.

Clark raised an eyebrow. "Somehow, I sense that the date isn't sitting well with you. Come on, let's take a walk." He gestured for Barry to follow him, and Barry acquiesced.

"I discovered this ship about four years ago," Clark explained, walking down the corridors of the vessel with Barry close behind. For Barry's part, he was caught up in trying to compare what he remembered of the Kryptonian ship from his past world with the one before him now. "It had been buried for…" Clark stopped. "Well, I actually don't know how long it had been buried for," he resumed as he began to walk again, "but it had been a while."

They came to a larger, cavernous main chamber where various stations had been setup – in one corner, a small loveseat with a television had been setup, and in opposite one, a small kitchen. A desk took up yet another, and there was a case with the Superman suit inside leaning against a wall.

"As far as I can tell," Clark continued as he spun around to face Barry, "it was an unmanned scout ship of some kind. Everything still works, more or less, though I haven't tried to fly it. Yet." He winked at Barry. "That should be fun if it ever gets to that point."

"Uh huh," Barry replied.

"That reminds me," Clark suddenly said. "I don't actually know your name." He held out a hand, which Barry took.

"Barry Allen. I'm, uh, the Flash."

"The Flash?" Clark's left eyebrow went up. "Can't say I've heard, but it's good to make your acquaintance. I'm Clark Kent. And considering that Batman was the—hang on, do you know who Batman is?"

"Yeah?" Barry offered. "Alfred was actually the one that flew me over here."

"Right. Well, considering that Bruce was the one who sent you, I assumed that you already knew that I was Superman. Because why else would somehow want to come all the way out here, am I right?"

"Yeah." Barry momentarily considered telling him everything, spilling the beans about what he actually knew about everything, but held his tongue. Earlier, he and Bruce had already had a discussion, and they had agreed on keeping it between them – for now. Barry generally saw the efficacy of that option since that particular bell could not be unrung if need be. Still, looking at Clark's trusting smile in the face, it made Barry feel at least a little guilty for withholding crucial information from him.

"So, why are you here, Barry?"

Barry fidgeted in place a little. "Well, how up to date on everything are you?"

"You mean generally? I'm a journalist, so fairly up to date, I'd say."

"No, my bad, I meant with what Bruce knows."

Clark scoffed. "Bruce doesn't tell me anything, really. Actually, we don't even talk or have a way of communicating. Which is why you're here in person. Sorry about that, by the way – I was off in the Pacific dealing with something, so I didn't hear you until you were already in the water on my way back."

Barry gulped. Close brush with death it was, then. "I… see. In that case, I'll start from the beginning."

Clark gestured to a small circular dining table. "Let's sit, then. Something to drink?"

"Do you have a Coke? Like one of those glass bottle ones, not the high-fructose corn syrup ones if you know what I mean."

Clark chuckled, and in the blink of an eye, he had zipped between the fridge and the table with two tall and open glass bottles of Coke. "Only way to drink it, my new friend. Cheers." They clinked bottles and Barry took a long drink of the sweet soda.

"Alright," Barry finally said, putting down the now-half empty bottle. "The beginning. So, Bruce, he's rich, right? And has a whole company. And his company's got a satellite out in space. Like a deep-space satellite." Barry made accompanying hand motions to emphasize the relative size of said satellite, though Clark's brow furrowing indicated to him that it likely didn't help. "And anyway, this deep-space satellite takes pictures and stuff, but recently it's gone dark."

"Equipment malfunction?" Clark interjected. "Does Bruce want me to fly out there and fix his multimillion-dollar doohickey for him?"

"No," Barry quickly responded, patting around his clothes before he realized he was still wearing that pajama onesie. "Wait, where's my stuff?"

Clark gestured toward the loveseat. "I left it out to dry."

Barry quickly ran over—at normal speed, though—and rummaged through his clothes before he found the thumb drive that Bruce had given him. "Computer?"

A blur later and Clark was sitting at the table with a laptop. Barry sprinted back over and plugged it in, hoping that Bruce had the foresight to make the drive Barry-proof. Within seconds, the laptop popped up the file contents of the drive.

"Yes! So," Barry continued, "the last thing that the deep-space satellite saw was… this." He double-clicked on the image file, and the three-legged Kryptonian ship popped up on the screen.

Clark leaned in to see the picture. "Okay… so, aliens?"

Barry paused for a moment. "Clark, it's Kryptonian."

"And how would you know that?" Clark asked, suddenly turning to Barry. At that moment, Barry realized that he may have overplayed his hand slightly. Earlier, Bruce hadn't even known what species Clark really was.

"Um," Barry tried to think quickly for a reasonable explanation. "I… just… do?"

"That's not really an explanation, Barry," Clark replied in a flat tone. "I'm going to ask you: what do you know about Kryptonians?"

Barry sighed. "I know a lot, Clark. And I know that you want to know why, but I really can't tell you. Not yet." He looked Clark in the eyes. "I promise that I'll tell you one day, and not like a really far away day or something, but moderately soon. Whatever that means."

There was an inscrutable expression on Clark's face as he stared intently at Barry, enough for him to feel uncomfortable and want to shy away. Finally, Clark blinked, and the moment was over.

"Okay," Clark said simply. He extended a hand. "I'll hold you to that, Barry. One day."

"One day," Barry agreed, taking Clark's hand and shaking it with no small amount of relief. "So, the ship."

"The Kryptonian ship." That hard-to-decipher tone in Clark's voice returned. "It broke Bruce's satellite and now it's coming here."

"Probably. It's hard to imagine that they're just transiting through the Solar System."

"And I'm the only one on Earth that can stand up to them." Clark turned to Barry. "Am I going to need to stand up to them?" Something in Clark's tone told Barry that Clark trusted whatever answer he gave.

"I hope not," Barry murmured. "But I think you'll have to."

Clark's solemn expression said everything that Barry expected.

"Ah, Master Kent," Alfred exclaimed, standing outside the jet on the small runway. "And Master Allen. It's good to see you both." Frankly, his tone didn't really sound all too pleased to Barry's ears.

"Alfred, good to see you again," Clark said, taking Alfred's hand in a handshake.

"Alfred," Barry greeted, nodding his head toward the older man before going up the steps into the private jet. Alfred nodded back and followed Barry in. Clark was already taking a seat, having dressed into a suit with glasses on. Barry, for his part, had simply put on his dried winter gear, though in the temperature-controlled environment of the jet, it was quickly becoming too hot to be bearable. He stripped the top two layers off and set them aside on an empty seat before taking his own across from Clark.

"I trust that Master Allen has filled you in?" Alfred asked, stopping beside them. Clark nodded. "Good, I'll be in the cockpit if you need anything, then." The butler slipped away, leaving Barry and Clark alone in the cabin of the jet.

"Do you know anything about the other metahumans that Bruce has searched for?" Barry asked. He was still quite out of the loop, and anything that Clark knew was information that could be used.

"Some of them," Clark admitted, adjusting his glasses. "When I last talked to Bruce, he had discovered two of them and was searching for a third. She was elusive, though – hard to find even with Bruce's resources."

"Who?"

"The name she went by was Diana Prince, but there was evidence showing that she had been active since at least the Second World War," Clark explained. "And a lot more evidence that she was and probably still is very powerful."

Barry nodded. Clark raised an eyebrow.

"You don't seem surprised."

"I don't," Barry agreed. Bruce had once told him that Diana had been in hiding before Clark died. It seemed like that wasn't an unusual thing across the multiverse.

"The first of the two we had met was Hal," Clark continued.

"Hal?"

"Something that I know that you don't," Clark chuckled. "Will wonders never cease?" He cleared his throat after a few moments. "Hal Jordan. He used to be a pilot in the Air Force. When we caught up with him, he was working in the private sector as a test pilot. He has a… ring of some kind. I'm not quite sure what it is, but it gives him immense strength. He calls himself the Green Lantern."

"Huh." Barry blinked a few times, but try as he might, he could recall nothing about a Green Lantern from his past. It seemed like that was one of the differences – either they didn't exist in the old world, or his Earth just didn't have one for some reason.

"The second is Arthur Curry. He's an eccentric fellow, to say the least."

"Is his father, by any chance, running a lighthouse?"

Clark's eyebrow raised again – a common occurrence with Barry. "… Yes, Thomas Curry does run a lighthouse. That's how we found Arthur."

"And what is Arthur, exactly?"

"Best I could tell," Clark stroked his chin, "was that he was some sort of underwater metahuman. Swims really well, can talk to fish, and he seems to be quite at home in the ocean. Big fellow, too. I'm not sure I would ever want to fight him."

Barry guffawed, and then proceeded to cover it up with a raging cough when Clark looked at him strangely. It seemed that Arthur was more or less the same here as he was back home, in the past world.

Some things really didn't change.

One flight later, and Barry found himself standing in line for his bagel sandwich. He didn't quite know why he kept coming to this particular shop – well, okay, he did know. The shop was basically identical to the one he used to go to, and that brought some amount of comfort to him, that even with the complete shattering of a world, some things didn't change.

Still, that barely helped with the waiting. Especially since Barry was starving.

"Barry?" a light voice called out from behind him. He whipped around to come face-to-face with a woman he had only seen scattered in his dreams, but whose identity was very known to him – or at least a version of him.

"Iris West," he breathed out. She was a different Iris than the one that he had crushed on throughout college – fairer skin, redder hair, different facial features – but the feeling that he had toward her remained the same, nonetheless. Somehow. She was still cute in every universe, too.

"Yeah, that's me," Iris laughed. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, me? Uh, well, you know, I'm just," he gestured to the counter, "just waiting for my bagel, heh."

"Right," Iris nodded. "Yeah, they make one of the meanest sandwiches in town, but damned if they don't make you wait for it."

Barry just nodded, perhaps a little too rapidly.

"Say," Iris slowly began, absentmindedly taking a strand of her hair to twirl around a finger, "did you still want to grab dinner on Friday? I know you said you were open to it last time…" she trailed off.

"Yea—yeah, that sounds great," Barry nodded, a smile emerging on his face. "I'd love to—"

The lights in the bagel shop suddenly went out, plunging the whole restaurant into darkness amidst a number of yelps and cries. Barry looked around, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as goosebumps set in. It was still too soon…

The television that the shop had mounted behind the counter emitted a burst of static, drawing attention to it from all of the customers and employees inside. A strange whining sound came from the television, like someone was trying to find the right frequency on an old radio. Finally, it came to a stop, leaving silence behind.

"You are not alone," a voice called out.

Barry stiffened. His arms shook slightly.

"You are not alone."

Someone behind Barry whimpered slightly.

"You are not alone."

Barry felt Iris take his arm, and he turned to see her wide-eyed.

The television buzzed once again, before the static visuals gave way to an unclear figure.

"My name is General Zod."

Barry squeezed his eyes shut at the name – that cursed name, of the demon who bore that name. The demon that had killed Kara, had indirectly killed Bruce, and that had destroyed an entire world due to his megalomania.

"I come from a world far from yours. I have journeyed across an ocean of stars to reach you. For some time, your world has sheltered one of my citizens. I request that you return this individual to my custody."

A pause.

"You may know this individual… as the Superman."

Barry squeezed his fist and opened his eyes to stare at the Zod's obscured figure.

"To those that know where he is, it is your duty to facilitate his return. And to Kal-El, I say this: surrender within twenty-four hours, or I will be forced to intervene more extensively."

The television's audio turned to static once more, and after a few seconds, it flickered off again and the lights turned back on.

Somebody screamed, and then panic ensued. Customers rushed out of the shop, leaving behind only a few stragglers that stayed behind, including Barry and Iris.

"Are you okay," Barry asked, taking Iris by her shoulders. Her eyes were still wide, but she nodded, nonetheless, and swallowed hard.

"I think, think so, yeah," she stumbled. Barry could see it, the fear in her eyes. The same fear that he himself held in his heart, the fear that he hadn't been able to eradicate in the many years since he had first seen Zod's path of destruction. He brought Iris into a hug, letting her fall into his chest.

"It'll be alright, Iris," he whispered, placing his chin on the top of her head. He stared at the blank television screen where Zod had been just moments before. "I promise you."

This time, he wouldn't fail. He couldn't.

He owed Kara, Bruce, and himself that much, at least.

To Be Continued

Notes:

If you're enjoying this story, I'd encourage you to check out the prequel to this story, The Last Daughter of Krypton — a three-part short story centered on Kara Zor-El in the final days of Krypton, set in this continuity. You can find it on my profile as a work-in-progress. Thanks for the support, everyone!

Casting:

Clark Kent: David Corenswet (The Politician)

Iris West: Phoebe Dynevor (Fair Play)