Authors Note:
Im still ill but managed to keep to the Friday release. hope you enjoy it.
iv not had anyone to proof read this so I apologise for any mistakes
Earth 3 (DC) present day
As the first light of dawn crept across the horizon, it unveiled the extent of the chaos that had unfolded. The once serene landscape was now a tableau of destruction. Clark surveyed the scene with a steely resolve. "Time to move," he declared, his voice cutting through the morning stillness. "If we harness our super speed, we can rendezvous with the refugees heading north."
Goku, ever the inquisitive warrior, furrowed his brow. "Why not maintain super speed until we reach our destination?" he questioned.
Clark shook his head, "The skies are under constant surveillance," he explained. "Even at our fastest, we'd be intercepted. We can't take that risk, especially not with Bulma and Bruce in tow."
A moment of silence hung in the air before it was broken by the unmistakable voice of Bruce Wayne. "Where do you intend to lead us?" he inquired, his voice as deep as the shadows he inhabited.
"Gotham," Clark responded succinctly. At the mention of the city, a flicker of surprise crossed Bruce's features, his eyebrows arching in silent query. Yet before he could voice his thoughts, Clark pressed on. "There will be ample time for discussions once we're safe within its walls. For now, trust that it's a safe place."
With a collective nod, the four of them rose to their feet, united in purpose.
Clark turned to Goku, determination etched on his face. "I'll escort Bruce; you safeguard Bulma. What's your maximum speed?" he inquired.
Goku adjusted his stance, ready for the journey ahead. "My speed is constrained by Bulma's capabilities, but I'll manage to match your pace without difficulty," he assured.
"Alright, let's proceed on foot then," Clark directed, and with a swift glance to ensure their companions were prepared, they set off. Moments later, they merged with a caravan of survivors trudging northward, away from the city's turmoil.
Bulma's eyes swept over the crowd. The refugees bore the scars of their ordeal—tattered garments, cuts, and bruises marring their skin. Their faces were etched with the pain of loss, and their feet dragged heavily against the ground, each step a testament to their resilience.
Bulma's voice was tinged with urgency as she inquired, "How long has this chaos been unfolding?" Clark's response was grave, his tone reflecting the weight of the situation. "It began three weeks ago," he explained. "Without any forewarning, their ships pierced the heavens, descending upon us with a sudden ferocity. The military mounted a valiant defense, but it was when the superhumans arrived that the scales truly tipped. Possessing abilities that matched my own, they swiftly overwhelmed our forces. Within a mere two days, they had seized control of the governments across all nations, leaving only scattered remnants of resistance."
Clark paused, his gaze distant as he continued, "Their conquest seems to have reached a plateau. Rather than extending their dominion further, they've been fortifying their strongholds. I attempted a reconnaissance mission to gather intelligence on their bases, but I was detected. It was a narrow escape, and I barely managed to elude the ones who pursued me." His words hung in the air, the odds where definitely against them.
The group's conversation had dwindled to mere whispers, a sign of their collective exhaustion. Hours passed, and the once lively pace of the crowd had slowed to a weary trudge. Eventually, the sea of people came to a halt, settling onto the ground in a silent concession to their fatigue. Bulma, unable to bear the despondent stares any longer, turned to Goku and handed him two capsules. "Goku, we need supplies—water, food, and if possible, clothing. These capsules can store enough for everyone. Please, find what you can," she implored.
Goku, ever eager to assist, nodded in agreement. "Head east," Clark instructed, pointing in the direction of the alien base. "It's dangerous, and I'd prefer you not go alone, but I must remain here with the people." Goku's grin was undeterred. "Don't worry, I welcome the challenge. It's a good opportunity to test my strength."
Clark stood in stunned silence, grappling with the enigma that was Goku. His behavior was baffling, a puzzle that seemed to defy explanation. Goku's unorthodox actions and unfathomable abilities left Clark questioning the very nature of the man before him. Was he oblivious to the danger, or was he simply that confident in his own powers? Either way, Goku's peculiar demeanor was a stark contrast to the gravity of their situation, and it left Clark both intrigued and perplexed.
With a promise to return swiftly, Goku vanished at an astonishing speed. He soon stumbled upon a ravaged supermarket. Amidst the chaos, he scavenged an abundance of food, clothing, and beverages. Gathering the items, he encapsulated them neatly within the two capsules. As he turned to leave, a towering figure blocked his path. "What was that?" the stranger demanded, eyeing the capsules in Goku's hand. Goku felt a surge of power emanating from the man, reminiscent of Clark's but not as potent. Tucking the capsules safely away, Goku braced himself for what might come next.
"It's none of your concern," Goku retorted, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anticipation. The man's face twisted into a scowl. "You'll regret this," he snarled, lunging forward to seize Goku by the neck. However, his hand was swiftly intercepted by Goku's firm grip. The man growled, exerting more strength, Goku felt the pressure mounting against him. Realizing his power alone might not suffice, Goku cleverly used the man's momentum to his advantage. With a swift pivot, he sent his adversary crashing through the wall.
As debris settled, Goku prepared for the inevitable counterattack, powering up in anticipation knowing that without transforming he was outclassed. A furious yell accompanied by an explosion scattered bricks in all directions. The man, fueled by rage not noticing the difference in appearance of Goku he charged at with a raised fist. Goku deflected the initial onslaught, but a powerful strike eventually breached his defences, propelling him through the opposite wall. Lying amidst the rubble, Goku acknowledged the man's superior strength, surpassing even that of a Super Saiyan and the formidable Cell. It was time for another transformation.
Rising to his feet, Goku brushed off the dust, a grin spreading across his face. "I'm impressed," he admitted. The man, taken aback, could only whisper, "How?" Goku's grin widened. "You haven't seen anything yet." With that, he underwent a staggering transformation. The energy radiating from him was colossal, sending a gale force that the man struggled to withstand. As the roof gave way, Goku realized the folly of transforming indoors, note to self don't transform inside.
The man's strength was undeniable, yet his control over his abilities seemed unrefined, a detail that puzzled Goku. However, before he could ponder this anomaly, he was blindsided and sent crashing through the floor to the basement below. "Ouch," Goku muttered, dusting himself off. As he regained his footing, five figures descended gracefully through the gaping hole above. Goku's pulse quickened with anticipation, yet he was aware of the people waiting on him
Standing tall, Goku positioned two fingers on his forehead and addressed the group with a confident smirk. "I look forward to a rematch," he declared. The leader of the men chuckled dismissively. "Rematch?" he echoed with a hint of mockery. "You won't get the chance." As they closed in, Goku's form flickered and then disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Back at the gathering, Bulma's gaze was fixed on the crowd until Goku materialized abruptly before her. Startled, she tumbled backward with a thud. "GOKUUUUUU!" she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of annoyance and relief.
An hour later the mood of the crowed was substantial improvement, although fear at the sudden appearance of food, after indulging in food, water and clothing there spiritd where lifted, they were soon on there way Goku having filled them in on his adventure. As they continued walking Bruce said "i think it's time you continue your story Clark"
36 years ago...
Clark Kent strode through the shadowy streets of Gotham, a city shrouded in an almost tangible darkness. His search for answers in Gotham's grand library had proven fruitless, fuelling his growing frustration. As he wandered, his extraordinary hearing detected a distant scream, slicing through the night's silence. He honed in on the distress, "Help! Someone, please help me!" followed by a menacing taunt, "No one's going to hear you scream," and another voice chimed in, "Yeah, no one."
"Here, take my money," a desperate plea emerged, only to be met with a chilling response, "We don't want your money." Clark's growl rumbled from deep within as he surged into superspeed, propelled by a torrent of anger. He arrived in a blur to find two men assaulting a woman. Without hesitation, Clark charged, catapulting the first assailant into a wall with a sickening thud; the man slumped to the ground, unconscious.
The second man whirled around, spotting Clark. He threw a punch, landing squarely on Clark's face. The sound of breaking bones echoed as the man's hand shattered, a cry of agony escaping his lips. Clark seized him by the collar, hoisting him into the air and bringing him close enough to feel his breath, "If I ever see you again, you'll wish you had never been born." With a forceful shove, Clark released the man, who stumbled and fell, scrambling away in terror.
Clark turned to the woman, extending a gentle hand, "Are you okay?" Her face was a canvas of shock and despair, but she managed a nod. Twenty minutes later, the wail of sirens filled the air as police and an ambulance arrived. The man who had hit the wall was loaded into the ambulance, bound for the hospital. The police recorded Clark's statement, but something felt amiss to him.
Once they departed, Clark ascended, trailing the police officers from above. They stopped in an alley where a black limousine waited, flanked by three armed men and a figure who was unmistakably the boss. "Well, this is a fine mess," the boss remarked. The officers exchanged nervous glances, "It wasn't our fault. Your men botched it. We kept the police away from that location." The boss's irritation was palpable, "I'll handle the men. What do you know about the one who saved her?" "Not much," one officer replied, thumbing through his notebook. "Name's Clark Kent. No address at the moment. That's all we have." "Clark Kent," the boss mused. "I'll have my investigator track him down. If he meddles again, he'll vanish."
The boss signalled, and one of his men approached the officers, handing them a wad of cash, "Now scram," the boss commanded.
Clark's anger boiled over. What conspiracy had he uncovered? He couldn't let this stand. Memories of conversations with Bruce Wayne surfaced—fear was a powerful ally. A smile crept across Clark's face; he now had a plan.
The dawn of the next day found Clark Kent immersed in a task unlike any other; he was fashioning a suit of black, a stark contrast to the vibrant colors he usually donned. This makeshift attire, though lacking the finesse and sophistication of Bruce Wayne's designs, would suffice for the shadowy endeavours that lay ahead. Clark had eavesdropped on the officers as they spoke to the woman from the previous night's ordeal. Her name and whereabouts now etched in his mind, he resolved to keep a vigilant watch over her, an instinct warning him that danger still lurked.
His prediction proved accurate. The very next day, as the woman navigated the bustling streets of the city, a vehicle, with blatant disregard for the traffic signals, hurtled towards her. In a heartbeat, Clark was at her side, his actions a blur as he whisked her away from the imminent collision. Once the dust settled, she faced her saviour, astonishment etched on her features. "You again," she breathed, "you must be my guardian angel."
Clark's gaze was unwavering as he delivered his grave news, "Someone is trying to kill you." The woman met his eyes, her nod confirming her awareness of the peril she faced. "I'm not surprised," she admitted, prompting a look of astonishment from Clark. Her laughter broke the tension, "I owe you a coffee, but clearly, I owe you much more. Will you join me for lunch? I'll explain everything." Clark agreed with a nod, "I would be happy to."
Lunch unfolded pleasantly, with Clark attentively listening as the woman, a lawyer by profession, unveiled her crusade against a company guilty of illegal chemical dumping. The governor, she revealed, was complicit, intent on burying the scandal. She was on the cusp of filing a lawsuit against both parties, armed with incriminating evidence, yet the pervasive corruption threatened to stifle her efforts.
"I want to help," Clark declared, his voice resolute. "It's dangerous," she warned. "I know, and I can take care of myself. It's you I'm concerned about" he said. She proposed an arrangement, "How about I hire you to assist me and act as my bodyguard?" Clark's response came with a reassuring smile, Clark's declaration was firm, "You don't need to pay me. I'm here to help." But she shook her head, a mixture of gratitude and resolve in her eyes. "I insist," she said, her voice carrying the weight of her conviction. And with that, their hands met, the handshake solidifying their newfound partnership. "You have a deal," they affirmed in unison.