CHAPTER TEN

SMALLVILLE HIGH SCHOOL. THE TORCH.

"Yo, did you guys see this?" Pete Ross pulled the top newspaper off the stack of various local and national papers that The Torch kept on hand to use as reference material. He held it up for his friends to see.

The front page of the Daily Bugle sported a picture of Spider-Man in a black costume, carrying a bag of cash. The headline "THIEF!" was splashed across the top of the page, with the subheading "Spider-Man Shows His True Colors."

"Looks like Spider-Man finally broke bad," Pete said, shaking his head in disgust.

"The Daily Bugle is hardly a shining bastion of truth in journalism," Chloe said with a smirk, momentarily glancing up from her computer screen as she worked on the latest edition of the school paper. "J. Jonah Jameson will print anything that will sell. Whether it's true or not is an afterthought at best."

"Let me see that," Clark Kent said, taking the paper from Pete. He looked at the picture with dismay. "I can't believe Peter would do this."

Pete looked confused. "Peter who?"

Clark looked up from the newspaper with an expression of panic. Chloe was shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

"Uh… Peter Parker is the photographer who takes Spider-Man's pictures," Clark said quickly. "Chloe and I met him when we took that trip to New York City a while back. I just meant I can't believe he would take a picture like this of Spider-Man. There must be more to the story."

Chloe stood up and snatched the paper out of Clark's hands and inspected it herself. "Look," she said. "It says the photo was taken by someone named Eddie Brock. Not Peter Parker. Maybe you should give your friend a call and see what's going on," Chloe said. She continued to look at Clark with annoyance.

"Yeah," Clark said. "Yeah, I'll do that."

A very confused Pete Ross looked back and forth from Clark to Chloe. "Why do I feel like there's something you two aren't telling me?"

"Like what?" Clark and Chloe said in unison.

Pete shook his head. "Y'all are crazy. I gotta get to class. I'll see you later."

After Pete left the room, Chloe smacked Clark on the arm with the copy of the Bugle.

"Clark!" she hissed. "You almost gave away Peter's secret!"

"I'm sorry!" Clark said, raising his hands in defense. "It just slipped out! But I am really concerned about him. Wearing a black suit and robbing a bank?" Clark couldn't help but think of his own red-kryptonite-infused crime spree in Metropolis last summer. Could something similar have somehow happened to Spider-Man?

Before he had a chance to think on this further, Lana Lang popped into the Torch office.

"Hey Chloe! Hey Clark!" she said brightly. "Chloe, I was wondering if you could give me a ride to the Talon after school. Haley is out sick so I need to cover her shift as soon as I get out of last period."

"No problem," Chloe replied.

"Maybe I'll stop by later," Clark said, smiling at Lana.

She grinned. "I'll be there til close. First cup of coffee is on me."

"Sounds great, Lois," Clark replied.

Lana and Chloe both froze.

"Um… what did you just call me?" Lana asked, furrowing her brow.

Clark was confused. "I… um… Didn't I call you Lana?"

"You called her Lois," Chloe said, folding her arms incredulously. "That's my cousin's name. But you've never even met my cousin. Why did you say that name?"

Clark shook his head. Why had he said Lois instead of Lana? How did he even know that name? Why did being in the Torch, even being at Smallville High at all, suddenly feel wrong? Like he was not supposed to be here?

"Gotta go," Clark said. Without another word he dodged his two female friends and ducked out of the Torch office.

. . . . . .

THE KENT FARM. LATER THAT DAY.

Clark walked into the kitchen to find his dad sitting at the table sipping a cup of coffee and his mom baking a fresh loaf of banana bread. The aroma was so wonderful that it momentarily cleared his mind of any weirdness that had happened that day.

"Hey, son!" Jonathan beamed. "How was school?"

"It was fine, Dad," Clark replied, tossing his backpack on the counter. "Mom, that banana bread smells great!"

"It will be ready in a few minutes, sweetheart," she said with her usual tender smile.

Clark sat down at the table with his dad. "I don't usually see you sitting here when I get home," Clark said. "Need a hand with anything?"

"Ah, just take a load off, son," Jonathan replied. "You can help me with the afternoon chores after you've had something to eat. I'm just glad you're feeling better." He gave Clark a pat on the back. His parents were always warm and supportive, but they had been overdoing it a bit ever since his episode of sleeping for a day and a half up in the barn loft. They had been worried that something was seriously wrong with Clark, and they had been encouraging him to take it easy as much as possible ever since.

"I'm really fine, Dad, I promise," Clark said, shrugging off his concern. "You don't have to worry so much."

"Worrying is a part of the job description when you're a parent," Martha said, bringing Clark a glass of milk.

"Okay, but you're taking it to the extreme," Clark said with a chuckle.

There was a knock at the screen door.

Jonathan and Martha exchanged concerned glances.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Jonathan asked.

Martha shook her head no. For some reason they seemed to be suddenly very anxious.

"I'll get it," Clark said, somewhat amused at his parents' apprehension at a simple knock at the door. He started to get up from the table, but Jonathan put a hand on his arm.

"No, that's all right, son, I've got it."

Jonathan stood up and walked to the door. He opened it to find a tall African American man in a navy-blue trench coat standing there. Beneath the coat was a green shirt and red holsters that crisscrossed across his chest. The man was holding an 8 x 10 photograph in his hand.

"Can I help you?" Jonathan asked.

"My name is John Jones," the man said. "I'm a detective. I'm trying to locate a missing person." He held up the photo. It was a picture of Clark. "His name is Kal-El."

Clark got up from the table. He walked over to the door, his mouth agape.

"How do you know that name?" Martha asked from behind her husband.

"I'll handle this, Martha," Jonathan grumbled.

"Wait, Dad," Clark said. "I… I think I know this man."

"Clark, go up to your room please," Jonathan said.

"It's very important that I speak to Kal-El," John Jones insisted.

"Let me see that photograph," Clark said, trying to sneak in between his father and Mr. Jones.

"Clark!" Jonathan snapped. "I said go upstairs!"

Clark grabbed the photograph from John Jones. It was indeed a photograph of himself, but there was something remarkable about it. In the picture he was wearing a costume. A red and blue costume with an 'S' insignia on the chest, and a red cape.

"What is this costume?" Clark asked. "Why does it look familiar? And why are you familiar? I feel like I've met you before, but… in a way that I can't explain I know that I don't meet you for a few more years. Just like earlier today I knew the name Lois Lane, but I haven't met her yet, either."

"So it is you, Kal-El," John Jones said. "I've been looking for you for a long time. I was starting to think I would never find you."

"Look, I don't know who you are but I'm going to need you to get the hell off my property before I call the police," Jonathan bellowed.

"Dad, why are you acting like this?" Clark exclaimed. "I told you, I know this man, I want to talk to him! Look, look at this picture!" He held up the 8 x 10 photo to show Jonathan, only to be bewildered to find that it was now just a photo of Clark in a blue t-shirt. "Wait. That's not what it looked like a minute ago. It was a picture of me in my costume. My Super… um… my…" He shook his head. He felt so confused.

"May I ask you a question, Charles?" John Jones asked.

Jonathan Kent looked wide-eyed at Mr. Jones.

"How much concentration is it taking you to not only keep up this illusion, but constantly mine Kal-El's memories for details?" Jones asked. "All the while keeping him from accessing those memories himself? It must be taking an extraordinary effort, even for a telepath as powerful as you."

"Why did you just call him Charles?" Clark asked.

"Clark, I told you to go up to your room!" Jonathan yelled.

"I mean you've even captured the scent of fresh-baked banana bread. With chopped walnuts, I believe? That's an incredible level of detail. You're not doing it all by yourself, are you?" Jones asked. He turned his gaze toward Martha, who was slowly backing away. "Hello, Doctor Grey."

Martha looked nonplussed. "I think you are confused, Mister Jones," she said.

"Charles…? Doctor Grey…?" Clark asked.

"This is an illusion, Kal-El," Jones said. "You are being manipulated."

"Martha, call the sheriff," Jonathan said gruffly.

"And who is the sheriff in Smallville right now, by the way?" Jones asked. "Is it Ethan Miller or Nancy Adams? That should be easy for you to answer, shouldn't it? Unless you have to probe Kal-El's mind for the answer."

"I don't need to explain myself to you," Jonathan barked.

"Dad. Answer him," Clark said. "Who is the sheriff? Is it Sheriff Ethan or Sheriff Adams?"

Jonathan glared at Clark.

Clark took a few cautious steps back from his father.

"You're not my dad," Clark said.

"Clark, what a thing to say!" Martha reprimanded.

"And you're not my mom!" Clark snapped. "Who are you and how are you doing this?!"

For the briefest of moments, the world around him shimmered and the façade dropped. Jonathan Kent was revealed as Professor Charles Xavier, and Martha was Jean Grey. It lasted less than a second, and the illusion snapped back into place.

"Oh my god," Clark said. "I remember. I remember." He staggered back and braced himself against the kitchen table. "Oh no. I remember everything."

Jonathan took a step toward his son. "Clark… this John Jones person is messing with your head. You need to-"

"Shut up!" Clark roared. He threw the table aside, sending it crashing violently into the wall. Martha gasped and jumped back, throwing her hands over her mouth. "Do you have any idea what you've done to me? Do you have any idea?"

Jonathan was stoically silent.

"Growing up in Smallville with my parents and all of my friends was one of the happiest times of my life," Clark said through clenched teeth. "And now that I know this isn't real… I have to say goodbye to it all over again."

Jonathan and Martha looked at each other.

"As a Kryptonian, your thoughts and memories are difficult to read, Kal-El," John Jones said. "Charles and Jean picked this moment to return you to because there was another time in your life that you woke from an induced reality that you had believed was real."

"Sara Conroy," Clark said. "She pulled me into a dream state so I could help save her from her uncle. I woke up from one of the dreams on the couch in my loft… just like I did this time. Or, at least, like I thought I did." He turned to John. "How did you find me?"

"I've been looking for you for a long time," Jones replied. "I was a friend of your father, Jor-El. What confuses me is the fact that you seem to know me."

Clark clenched his fists. How could he possibly explain everything that had had already lived through, only to be sent back in time?

"I know my mind is hard to read," Clark admitted. "My friend Ryan James taught me that. But the three of you, together, should be able to do it. Especially if you use the mind stone to augment your powers." He looked directly at Martha. "I know you have it, Jean."

Martha looked solemn. She sighed. After a long moment, she opened the cupboard under the sink, pulled out a container of flour and set it on the counter. She removed the lid from the container. A bright blue glow emanated from it. She dug her fingers into the fluffy white flour and produced the brilliantly gleaming mind stone. The light reflected off of her face, casting it in an azure hue.

"Jean, are you sure about this?" Jonathan asked.

"We have put him through enough, Professor," Martha replied. "If the mind stone can show us the truth, I think we owe him that much."

Jonathan nodded. He looked at Clark sympathetically.

Jonathan, Martha, and John Jones gathered next to each other and placed their hands on the mind stone.

The Kent kitchen melted away. It was replaced by a devastated and demolished Manhattan landscape. Rain began pouring down from the dark and gloomy sky. The wreckage of a humongous SHIELD helicarrier protruded from the city like a knife sticking out of a corpse. Rumbles of thunder blended ominously with the sounds of battles being raged by super-powered beings.

The enormous, monstrous figure of Darkseid appeared in front of Clark. The brutish behemoth wore the complete infinity gauntlet on one hand. The other hand sported a Green Lantern ring and held the mythical hammer Mjolnir. A green kryptonite mist swirled around him, tinting everything a dark emerald.

Portions of the red and blue iron/lead alloy armor that Tony Stark had designed for him flew down from the sky and began to affix themselves to Clark. He steeled himself with resolve, reminding himself that this was only a memory being replayed. It wasn't real… at least, not in this moment. The armor clamped onto his arms, legs, and torso. Finally the helmet came down and clamped itself onto his head, the faceplate slamming shut to punctuate the process.

"Feh. You think yourself to be so clever, don't you?" Darkseid sneered. "Armor to protect yourself from the kryptonite mist. Merely one more layer for me to peel through to get to you."

Darkseid swung Mjolnir at Clark, who raised his arm and blocked the blow with his forearm. He shoved Darkseid back. The slats covering Clark's eyes slid open and he unleashed a blast of his heat vision. Darkseid quickly generated a shield with the Green Lantern ring and blocked the eyebeams. The eye slats clicked shut again, cutting off the stream of heat vision and protecting him from the kryptonite mist that was starting to seep in through his eye holes.

The fiendish Darkseid leapt into the air, swinging Mjolnir over his head with a furious roar. Clark greeted him with a powerful uppercut to the chin, snapping Darkseid's head backwards. Before Darkseid could recover, Clark super-sped at the brute and punched him repeatedly, pummeling him in the face. Darkseid swung the hammer up from below and landed a blow to Clark's chest that put a large crack in his chestplate. Tendrils of light emanated from the ring and dug themselves into the dent, trying to pry it open further and expose him to the kryptonite mist. Clark clapped his left hand over the dent, then delivered a right cross to Darkseid's face. Enraged, Darkseid unloaded with a collective blast from the ring, the gauntlet, Mjolnir, and his omega beams. The combined might of this colossal concussive discharge sent Clark flying through the air for miles, crashing into the side of a building. Everything went black.

When Clark came to, he had to wearily pull himself out of the wreckage of what had previously been a Key Bank. His muscles ached. He was exhausted. Enough kryptonite had seeped into the armor that he felt weak, the effort to even stand up while wearing the heavy suit was a strain. He lurched forward, forcing himself onward to look for Darkseid and resume the battle.

A green/blue portal hung open in midair. He knew, with a stone in his stomach, what was coming next. He could scarcely bear to go through with it. It was just a memory, he had to keep reminding himself. It was just a memory. He had already lived through this once. That did not seem to make it any better.

Clark forced himself to walk through the portal. He found himself in a Kansas cornfield in 1989. A field that should have been a place of promise, of hope. The start of his life on Earth with a loving family who would raise him with love, pride, and the values that had made him a Superman.

Instead, he found the burnt and bloody skeleton of what had once been Martha Kent, and the man who had once been Jonathan Kent with his head cleaved open, his remains being pecked at by crows.

He hit the escape button on the suit of armor, releasing himself from what felt like a suffocating tomb. He dropped to his knees. He threw his head back in agony and let loose a bone-chilling scream of pure agony.

The illusion dissipated. He was back in his white Superman suit now, on his knees in the X-Men's med-bay. A few feet away from him, Charles Xavier and Jean Grey stared at him in stunned silence. John Jones, if he had ever really been there at all, was nowhere to be seen.

"My God," Charles said. "What have we done? What have we made this man re-live?"

Jean walked over to Superman and knelt down beside him. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I am so, so sorry," she said. "I… we… we didn't know."

Superman looked up at her, tears streaming down his face.

"I'm not leaving here… without the mind stone," he said, struggling to find his voice.

"It's yours," Jean said. "Take it. It's yours." She opened her hand and the blue mind stone levitated from her palm.

"You have not only the mind stone," Charles added, "but the full support of the X-Men at your service."

"Where are the other gems?" Jean asked. "Where is the infinity gauntlet?"

Superman's countenance was grim. He raised his arm. Slowly, as if by magic, the infinity gauntlet appeared on his hand.

"The reality stone has been obscuring it from view," he said. "I've been wearing it the whole time."

The mind stone clinked into place beside its brothers.

. . . . . .

NEW MEXICO. THE MJOLNIR CRATER.

"What do you mean you can't lift it?" Bruce Wayne asked.

"I mean I can't lift it," Kara replied, annoyed. She grabbed the handle of the hammer and pulled. It still did not budge. "Did the files say anything about the hammer?"

"They did say it was enchanted," Bruce said.

Kara turned and glared at him. "Enchanted how?"

Bruce knelt down beside the hammer. He brushed some dirt off of it with his fingers. Part of the inscription was still covered but he could make out some of it.

"Whosoever holds this hammer… if he be worthy…" he read.

"Are you telling me there is an enchantment on this hammer that decides who is worthy to pick it up?" Kara asked. "And you didn't think to mention that earlier?"

Bruce stood back up. "I didn't believe it. I don't really believe in magic."

"Oh, so Kryptonians, time travel, and Asgardian gods literally falling from the sky, you can accept. But when it comes to a hammer having magical properties, that's where you draw the line?"

Bruce shook his head and ignored her question. For good measure, he grabbed the handle of the hammer and pulled. It still did not move.

"You thought you might be worthier than me?" Kara exclaimed.

"Didn't it make sense for me to at least try?" Bruce shot back.

At the top of the crater, a man in a suit, tie, and a pair of sunglasses was watching Bruce and Kara bicker from afar with keen interest and a touch of dismay. The man took a cell phone out of his jacket pocket and made a clandestine call.

"Sir, we've found it," the man said into the phone. "But it looks like we're not the only ones."