The house was quiet and would have been completely silent, if not for the clock ticking away, or the rain which beat against the window.

Puddles formed along the farm. Puddles among puddles, drowning the farm in the night, mixed in with occasional rumbles of thunder.

Harry sat on the windowsill, head pressed against the window, so that rainfall would ring in his ear.

It was calming in a way, in his bandages and wounds, that no longer bled, but had yet to heal. It was calming, to listen to the rhythmic beat, as his eyes slowly closed, and the memories of the day slowly faded away.

But he would not sleep. Not yet. For there was the sound of the door handle rattling, and he looked through the wall, as it were see-through, and they had returned. Clark and Kara entered, no longer in their costumes, but wearing drenched coats that stuck to their skin.

Harry dropped from the windowsill and soared to the front door, and it was only then did he notice it.

They did not look as victorious as he would have expected.

''So, is it dead?'' Harry asked casually. He looked up at the two of them and already knew the answer. ''It's not, I'm guessing...''

Kara and Clark shared a look, and Jonathon popped around the corner.

''So what is dead? Harry here wouldn't exactly tell us what happened.

''Doomsday.'' Was all Clark said, and Jonathon seemed to pale.

''Oh.''

''Who even is Doomsday?'' Harry asked. ''You obviously know who it is.''

''Nobody really knows,'' Kara said. ''All you have to know that's it's extremely dangerous.''

''Kara is right.'' Clark said, and looked him over ''But for now all we can do is take you to the hospital.''

''Not going.'' He shot back immediately. ''I already told Kara I'm not going, and I meant it. I don't need the hospital.''

''Harry,'' Clark said, and his frown returned. ''You can't carry on like this. You need to go to the hospital.''

''No. I don't like hospitals. I heal pretty quick anyway.''

''So you're going to heal a broken arm overnight?'' Kara asked, with a shake of her head.

''It's not broken.'' Harry brought his hand up, and a sudden jolt snaked up his elbow. Under the bandages, his arm was bent grotesquely and flopped slightly. ''And, yeah. It probably will.''

That was a lie. Harry knew. Healing a snapped arm overnight was unlikely even for him, and he was sure they knew that.

''We will talk about this more tomorrow.'' Clark finally said. ''Dad, can we stay here for the night? It's been a long day.''

''Course you can. You're always welcome, you know that.''

''About Doomsday,'' Harry said, changing the conversation. ''Where is he? Are you really saying he just got away?''

''Kind of,'' Kara said, and Clark explained.

''He vanished.''

''Vanished?'' Jonathon asked. ''How can it vanish when you move quicker than lightning?''

''Because it teleported away, or maybe something teleported it away,'' Kara answered. ''We looked for almost an hour, but Doomsday wasn't anywhere, and I mean that. It's like it just disappeared.''

Harry turned his head, towards the window, out into the black night, where the rain continued to hammer away, and all light had been stolen from the sky. No stars, or clouds, there was just a curtain of darkness.

''I know what you're thinking,'' Kara said.

''And what am I thinking?'' He muttered but kept looking out the window.

''That you're going to go out there to try and find it.'' She said, and Harry finally looked back at her. ''Please don't.''

''What do you mean don't?'' He asked, his voice like ice. ''That thing is out there and you really expect me to sit here?''

''I do.'' She said, matching his tone. ''You're a Kryptonian, but Doomsday is something else entirely.''

''Harry, you have done enough. If it wasn't for you, then an innocent girl would have died. Now let us handle it.'' Clark whispered, laying a warm hand on his shoulder.

''No.'' He said vehemently. ''I did that before, and look what happened. I'm not just staying here. I'm finding it.''

''You can't,'' Kara said. ''Just look at the shape you're in. What do you think is going to happen if you meet Doomsday again?''

''Harry, please listen to me,'' Clark said. His voice was barely a whisper, and he almost sounded desperate. ''You are strong and brave, more than I was at your age. I wouldn't have been able to fend off Doomsday. But you aren't alone anymore, let us help you. You're still a-''

''Kid?'' He cut Clark off, now almost spitting. ''Right, I'm just a kid. Didn't stop you from throwing me in a prison cell though.''

''A prison cell?'' Jonathon asked, eyes wide. ''Clark, you can't be serious.''

''It wasn't a prison cell,'' Clark said, and even now he had not raised his voice.

''Close enough.'' He muttered. ''I still don't appreciate being treated like a stupid, naive kid. You know I'm not.''

''I didn't say that you were,'' Clark said. ''But, this is Doomsday.''

''So what? I think you're forgetting where you found me. I've dealt with worse.''

That was a lie, Harry knew. He had dealt with petty criminals, cops and a few meta-humans, but nothing like Doomsday.

''I haven't forgotten,'' Clark said. ''But you aren't there anymore. Harry, things are different now. You can rely on us.''

That almost got a laugh out of Harry. At the age of nine, he remembered coming to a realisation.

''The only person you can rely on. The only person who will save you is you.''

And save himself he did.

''Didn't you say that you were going to finish Doomsday?'' He asked, now looking straight at Kara.

''I did.'' She said stiffly. ''And we will, next time.''

''Next time, you mean you two?'' He questioned, but already knew the answer.

''We don't need to argue,'' Clark said. ''It's been a long day, and we have better ways to spend the night.''

He's right. There are.

That is what Harry thought, and the question, ''So, we're staying here tonight, right?'' Sprouted out immediately after.

Clark hesitated, almost seeming taken aback. ''We are.''

''So where am I sleeping?'' He asked. ''The coach?''

''No, not the coach,'' Jonathon said. ''We got plenty of free rooms.''

But before Jonathon could show him to his room, Clark would ask, rather suspiciously.

''Harry, are you planning something?'

''Planning what? What do you think I'm going to do, run away? You'd find out pretty quickly anyway.''

''I didn't say that you were going to run away.''

''Alright,'' Harry said and began making for the stairs. ''Then I'm going up.''

''I know it's late, and today has been real difficult.'' Jonathon started. ''But I'm sure Martha can fix up something quick.''

''Harry?'' Clark asked, sending him a look.

''Not hungry.'' He said unhesitatingly. ''I'm just tired right now and want to sleep.''

It wasn't a lie, really.

That's what Harry thinks, as he lays on the bed for an hour, as Clark checks on him every ten minutes.

It wasn't a lie. He closed his eyes under the silks, as Clark checked on him in the dark room, for the final time.

But Harry is not asleep, and he finally decides that it was a lie. He gets up and leaves, running about as owls peer down at him that must have not considered him a person, but a blur.

He isn't sure what his objective is, he admits as he darts around the earth, holding onto his arm to make sure it doesn't swing. As he passes by the forest, where the trees are fractured and the rain that had yet to wash the blood away. As he listens hard enough where voices from Gotham rung in his ear, or as he sniffs the air for Doomsday scent, but it is long gone.

Maybe it was to find Doomsday, but what could he do? He boasted, but there was only one person he was honest with, himself, and he was. He had one good arm, and just by running the cuts on his legs were starting to open up.

But what if that wasn't it? Maybe he was out here to be free, to feel the wind brush against him. Once upon a time, he was jealous of birds. They could travel the Earth, while he was locked away in Little Whinging. He could now, but he was still jealous of them.

They could fly away, but he could not.

Even if only minutes had passed, he had zigzagged to England, to a jungle located in God knows where, before finally returning to the Kent Farm.

Harry scaled the walls and slipped into the room before slumping onto his bed.

It took hours. He tossed and turned, making sure to keep his arm still, to not agitate it, but eventually, he was able to fall asleep.

In Chino Hills, everyone knew about the ''The White Tower.''

It was tall and white as snow, towering over all the other houses and shops in town. There were no windows, and it was surrounded by tape. No one was quite sure when it first appeared, and no one had been able to enter, no one that could speak about it, at least.

A young girl made an attempt. She tried to go through the front door, but no matter how hard she rammed the door in, it just wouldn't budge.

Then there was a boy who tried to scale the walls, but his feet had nothing to dig into. The walls were flat and smooth as marbles.

Of course, a single person had claimed to have entered. Another boy, who had sprouted some outrageous claims before, that he had met the Justice League and that he was actually Robin.

''I found a way in!'' The boy proclaimed, but was only able to gather the attention of a couple of other children, who listened to every word. ''There's Demons and Ghosts and Monsters in there, I'm lucky I even got out!''

But it was lucky that no one was able to get it, because if they did then they would have been shot down by the turrets hidden away, and even if they survived, the only thing that would greet them would be disappointment.

There were books. Shelves upon shelves of books, like an old forgotten library.

That was all it was. A library forgotten by time.

Vandal Savage checked over his shoulder, to squint into the night, before entering the password.

There were no keypads or even a keyhole. Instead, he spoke, his voice a low, raspy whisper.

''Code; 5965.''

One metallic eye popped out. ''Enter.'' A robotic voice answered before the eye vanished and the door opened with a click.

Vandal Savage entered and walked along the halls, the bookshelves to his side, where the scent of old books lay on heavy and filled his nostrils. He made it to the third floor, into the largest room, and took a book out, ''The Secret Passage, By Nina Bawden.'' And a hole appeared in the wall.

The hole grew until a staircase appeared. It was long and narrow, and black enough so it was impossible to tell how far it went down.

Vandal Savage put the book away and slithered through, the hole closing as he descended down the staircase.

It was only after almost a minute of walking in darkness, did he finally arrive.

It was a hall, not much brighter than the staircase. There was almost nothing inside, apart from a long, silvery table surrounded by empty chairs, and dry blood which still splattered the walls.

It seems that I am alone. He thought. No matter.

There were five doors, and Vandal Savage went to the one furthest from him. He made his way down another flight of stairs, into a room that held a cage, where Doomsday was imprisoned, who was unresponsive and just stared ahead blankly.

''I had thought this creature had been slain.'' She said. A tall, strikingly beautiful woman with dark hair and pitch-black eyes, a perfect match for her cloak. ''Although, I am far more curious about how you tamed it.''

''We have one of our new members to thank for that.'' He answered and looked at her blankly. ''Where have you been?''

''I would care to watch your tone,'' Circe whispered coldly. ''You may not be mortal, but you are still a mere human. This is a simple collaboration until she is dead.''

''I am a human.'' He replied, unperturbed. ''But even we have rules, and you will abide by them.''

''And what shall you do if I do not?''

''Then we might replace you.''

''Do not give out threats that you can not uphold,'' Circe said. ''You are the one whom proposed the idea of the Legion Of Doom, but you are not our leader.''

''You're right.'' He agreed simply. ''We don't have a figurehead. But the other members are becoming annoyed by you, and we as a group might decide to kick you out, and the results may end unfavourably for you. You are powerful, but there's no single force in this universe that would defeat us as a unit.''

She frowned. ''That is noted, but you still have yet to answer my question. How did you come to tame the beast?''

''You have been gone for a while, so I will fill you in.'' He said and began to elaborate. ''We saved a particular woman from the Phantom Zone, and she brought Doomsday back.

''resurrection?'' Circe asked, her frown deepening. ''I am most surprised. That is a rare ability.''

''It is, but she said that it wasn't true resurrection. She would never use it on a human, because they would have no intelligence left, but Doomsday had none to begin with.

''I see, though you still have not explained how you tamed it. Is it this woman's doing too?''

''Yes.'' He said. ''It will listen to all our instructions now. If we ask it to kill someone, it will. And we have already started.''

''You have? Go on.''

''We sent Doomsday out with one command: find Superman. It knows his scent, so it should have been simple.''

''Let me guess. Difficulties arose? I am not surprised.

''There were.'' He answered. ''It found someone else first.''

''How astonishing.'' She murmured, voice thick with sarcasm. ''How would this master plan ever fail? But, this seems ever so silly to me. He has killed Doomsday once before, what is stopping him from doing it again?''

''Doomsday finishing Superman was never the plan. We had a sniper in waiting, with a Kryptonite bullet.''

She crooked an eyebrow. ''Maybe it isn't as stupid as I had once thought. Tell me, was this assassin successful?''

''He wasn't.'' He admitted, lips set into a firm line. ''I gave strict orders only to shoot when Superman arrived. He was the greatest priory. He did come, but he wasn't able to get a clear shot before he flew off miles away.''

''How disappointing.''

''But there is also Plan B.''

''Plan B?'' She asked.

''You would have known if you came earlier.'' He said. ''We will drop Doomsday in Metropolis as bait, while our sniper is on standby.''

She rolled her eyes at him. ''Is this a jest? He could fly away for the second time.''

''That is where you come in. You can create barriers, to lock everyone inside.''

She seemed to ponder his words. ''This plan of yours might, just might work. Very well, I shall help.''

''Good.'' He said. ''But I've decided something. Superman is a member of the League, and is probably more dangerous than the other two, but the one who finds Doomsday first will be the one who's shot.''

''Other two? I am aware of Supergirl, but there is a third?''

''There is now. The boy who found Doomsday first seemed to have similar powers to him.''

''A son, perhaps?''

''Perhaps.'' He said. ''I would prefer Superman, as a member of the League, but if the boy or Supergirl shows up first, then they will be the ones locked in.''

When Harry finally awoke, he was not in his bed, but inside a landscape. Neither cold nor warm, with no clouds, or stars, but a blood-red sky. It was empty, apart from him, and a figure who sat on a golden throne.

''Hello, Harry. Would you care for a drink?''

He was tall and dark-haired, dressed in a black suit, but he was no human. For what human had crimson eyes?''

''Oh, come now, Harry.'' The man said, lips curling into a nasty smirk. ''You don't need to ignore me. I do enjoy our conversations.''

Harry stood up, now just in front of the throne.'' ''I don't.'' He said and noticed two things. One, that his bandages had vanished, with the cuts and scrapes. Secondly, his arm was back to normal. Thirdly, he wore a scruffy shirt and a pair of trousers, too small for him, something that he hadn't worn since the Dursleys. ''But I'm going to wake up soon anyway.''

''But this is no dream. What makes you so certain?''

''Because my arms are fine.'' He answered and pointed a finger at the man. ''And you're here.''

''And I'm here?'' The man murmured, face full of amusement. ''Don't tell me you still think I'm not real.''

''You aren't though.'' He said bluntly. ''You only come in my dreams.''

''Your words can hurt me too.'' The man said but did not look hurt in the least. ''I am not a figment of your imagination.''

''What do you want?'' Harry demanded, squinting across at him.

''I saw your fight with Doomsday.'' The man admitted. ''I am impressed, I must say. It was an enjoyable watch. But I do have to wonder, where did you get your violent streak from? Certainly not from your father, perhaps from the other side?''

''What?'' He said cooly. ''If you're gonna say something, then say it. Stop just hinting at stuff, it's annoying.''

The man smiled coyly. ''Nothing, nothing at all. Are you planning to fight Doomsday again?''

''What's it to you?''

''Curiosity.'' The man answered. ''Although, if you plan to go for round two, then let me offer you some advice.

''Advice, what advice?'' He asked with a snort.

''Avoid fighting it head-on.''

''Right.'' He said dismissively.

''You are not, and will not be stronger than it for several years.'' The man admitted, his smile gone. ''But you are faster and far more intelligent. Use that to your advantage.''

''Okay.'' He mumbled. ''But I just want to know one thing.''

''I am all ears.''

''Who the hell are you?''

''I had thought you considered me a figment of your imagination.''

The man's smile had returned, though it didn't reach his cold, red eyes.

''I don't know. Maybe I'm crazy and you are, maybe not. I'm not really sure.''

''I am real,'' the man said, ''as real as you, or as your Father, Superman.''

Harry shot him a look. Of course, he knew.

''Now, now. Don't look surprised. I know everything there is to know about you''

''You obviously don't.'' He hissed. ''Remember saying my parents were dead?''

''I did, but I simply didn't want to hurt your feelings.'' The man said tenderly, with the way something malicious crossed his face. ''After all, what would you do if you found out your own flesh and blood abandoned you? That is cruel, and I do try to be a good person. Don't you agree?''

''Say another word,'' he growled, and a shadow fell over his eyes, ''and you'll regret it.'

The man retorted easily. ''Now, there's no need to get violent. I just want to talk, and I know you do too.''

''No, I don't.''

A cold, unamused laugh came from the man. ''For a moment it almost seems like you hate me. Do you, Harry?''

''What do you think?'' He asks coldly. ''You're almost as bad as my Aunt and Uncle.''

''Oh my, I know you are not very happy with me, but not to this degree.'' The man said. ''I have always given you advice, told you the truth.''

''Advice, what advice?'' He snapped, no longer able to keep his voice lowered. ''I'm not stupid. You've been messing with me for years.''

''I am dearly sorry that you feel such a way.'' The man said, but didn't sound sorry at all. ''I remember when you were younger, you certainly didn't hate me then.''

''I did though.'' He said coldly. ''You were just a little better than them. Not that it matters, because you're not even real.''

''Harry, Harry.'' The man whispered. ''You change your opinions quicker than anyone I have ever met. Am I real, or aren't I?''

Harry began to walk away, his back to the man, who still lounged on his throne.

''Like I said before, I don't really care. I'm gonna be waking up soon anyway.''

''If you say so.'' The man said. ''But I must say you really haven't grown at all. You have grown older, and stronger, but you are still the same boy you were before.''

''And what's that meant to mean?'' Harry demanded. He stopped, but still had his back to the man.

''I think you know what I mean. You are a smart boy.'' The man said, and his ruby eyes glimmered cruelly. ''We haven't spoken in some time, but I have been watching you closely. I enjoyed your work in London after the Dursleys, although things have recently grown rather dull. Until today, at least. But you're still the same, scared boy I knew.''

Harry finally turned to the man. ''Scared?'' He spat. ''I just fought Doomsday and you think I'm scared?''

''I do.'' The man said and didn't even hesitate. ''Don't tell me you have already forgotten about what you used to be scared of.''

''I've never been scared of anything.'' He said, his fists tensed into balls. ''Bullet don't work on me, so do you really think there's anything I'm scared of?''

''Come now, we both know that is a lie. I remember you being ever-so terrified of your big bad uncle. I remember you hiding from your cousin. You can hide that from everyone else, but not from me. I know you better than you know yourself.

''That's it!'' Harry snapped. He charged towards the man, hot-red rage pulsing through his veins. ''I'm going to shut you up for good!''

The world began to crumble, and Harry toppled, falling down a hole, as the man simply peered down at him from his throne.

''That's all for today. Harry, you must know I never meant to hurt you. But I do hope you enjoy my gift, and I do wish you luck against Doomsday….I will be watching.''

Harry did not fall to the bottom, before waking up in his bed. He hurled the covers off, and sat upright, his fists still balled up, leaving chalk-white lines against his palms.

Don't be stupid. He was just trying to get to you.

That was true, whoever that man was, real or not, just wanted that, nothing more. He got up, went to the window and opened it, and a soft cool breeze tickled his cheek.

It was no longer raining, but the after-effects still showed, leaving the Kent Farm wet and damp. The sun rose up in the distance, the beginning of a new day.

It was as he was staring out into the farm, did he realize something. The cold pain that had seized him last night was gone, and the wounds under his bandages had either become hard to see or had disappeared entirely.

But there was only one way to find out. Harry pulled his bandages off, and not only were the cuts and nasty gashes gone, but his arm was straight as an arrow. Just to make sure, he brought his hand to his face and squeezed it into a fist.

And then, he laughed.

It was still early, so Harry wasn't sure what to do.

If he wanted to, then he could whiz around America, without the worry of hurting himself further, although that didn't stop him last night.

Eventually, he decided to just enter the living room, where Clark was asleep. The TV was still on though, playing reruns of Scooby Doo.

Harry stayed by the door, one foot out, but before fully leaving, the channels changed.

The title read; Emergency Alert. There was a Reporter, whose suit was stuck with rubble.

''Everyone who is in Metropolis, evacuate immediately! A creature has been - oh, no.''

A shadow emerged and Doomsday launched ahead ferociously, and the screen faded to black.

Clark shifted very slightly on the couch, and in the blink of an eye, Harry flashed over to the TV, to pull the cables out.

Harry immediately left the living room. He thought. Am I really going to fight Doomsday like this?

Ever since coming to Metropolis, there had been certain things he'd done to hide his identity. One was to keep his hair much shorter. Another was his change of name and always keeping a hat on, and that all worked like a charm.

Though, that was probably more to do with the fact that England was over a thousand miles away.

But was he really going to find Doomsday in the centre of Metropolis?

Harry zoomed up into the attic and pulled the old, dusty costume from out the box. It looked larger than what an eleven-year-old would normally wear, but whenever he tried on clothes that didn't fit, they sometimes shrunk, almost magically.

But still, he hesitated. He put it back and slowly walked away.

You don't need it. He thought and climbed down the ladder. You don't.

Harry dropped down but stayed rooted in the ground. You don't.

His fingers looped around the ladder, and he began to climb back up.

Metropolis was up in flames.

Buildings were in ruins. The cracked globe from the Daily Planet rolled across the fractured ground.

The air stunk of blood.

Jimmy Olsen stayed behind a building, a camera hanging around his neck. Today could not get any worse.

There was a roar, followed by a booming explosion.

Superman. Come on. Was what he thought, as he peeked around the corner. We need you. The creature looked back at him with its dark red eyes, and Jimmy felt his blood freeze. ''Oh no.''

The creature went for him, clawed, jagged feet tearing the ground apart, and Jimmy was already gone. He ran, but the sound of its powerful footsteps grew closer and closer, until he had no choice but to look, and the creature was in his face, barring grey, razor-sharp canines at him.

''Superman, I know you're somewhere, we need you!''

There was a streak of blue, and the next thing Jimmy knew he was shoved into the wall. He looked up.

A boy stood on its arm, like an acrobat sitting on a tightrope. The monster swung its free arm, but he just flipped to the ground, but not before kicking it in the jaw.

Jimmy would consider himself knowledgeable on Villains and heroes. He was not only a reporter, but he admired figures like Superman.

But he had not seen whoever this was before.

He dressed similarly to Superman — had his electric blue eyes and straight dark hair, but it was not him. He was a boy, probably not even 13, and looked a whole lot more unapproachable in comparison.

''Remember me?'' The boy asked.

''Who are you?'' Jimmy asked, scrambling to his feet and dusting himself off. ''Who-''

''I think you should just get out of here right now.'' The boy said immediately. He ducked under a heavy, powerful strike and struck back with a barrel of punches, his fists nothing but faint blurs, staggering it back ever so slightly. ''You're just going to get in my way.''

''Right.'' He mumbled, as the boy and creature faced off. ''But where's Superman?''

That got no answer from him, and the last thing Jimmy saw before turning a corner, was the boy firing off a blast of heat vision, and his suspicions had been confirmed.

It was not a Superman, or a Supergirl, but a Superboy.