Chapter Summary

Previously, Meryl and Clark finally arrived in the city of December. Clark's powers started to return, but they were acting up for some reason. Meryl met with Milly and the Chief to discuss her next story. Later, Lord Manga Khan hijacked the No Man's Land satellite broadcast to make his offer to the people of the planet.

Now, Lord Manga begins his resource survey, sending scouts and a special 'resource survey escort' down to December to investigate (ahem, steal) the Plants. As this survey group tries to take a 'sample' for study, Superman confronts the thieves and chaos ensues. Superman meets his match against 'The Main Man.'

AN:

Thank you to a few folks over on Fanfiction Social Connection on Discord for giving me feedback on this chapter! I've been fortunate to find a great group that has weekly writing and feedback sessions to help me stay motivated and exchange thoughts and critiques.

Thank you, BlueSynth, for reviewing the last chapter! Glad you are still following along and enjoyed the little easter egg with Eustice and Murial! ;)

I had a ridiculous amount of fun writing this chapter. Lobo is one of my favorite B-Class Supes villains. He's not out to destroy or control the world, but he's just living his best life as a baddie. I feel a little bad for Clark cause he's been beat down a lot in MAWS S1, and again here. But Clark will have his time to shine soon enough, don't worry.

I took a lot of inspiration for this fight from the animated movie "Man of Tomorrow." If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it!

Once the satellite transmission cut off from the cafe's radio, Clark turned to look up into the sky.

He strained his vision well beyond the visible range of human eyesight, all the way past the upper atmosphere. He swept his gaze around slowly, searching for a sign of some space vessel hovering over the planet.

It didn't take him long before he spotted the massive world ship.

He inhaled sharply at the intensity of detail.

He could see the thin seams between the metal panels, the bolts and hardware, the ribs along the jetway tunnels, and the subtle differences in color and shading over the curved surfaces of each spherical module.

A sharp, almost painful jolt streaked across his mind as it overloaded with visual information. He quickly relaxed his eyes, returning to (what he considered) normal vision.

Between Mxy's mess with the dimensional rift and this 'Lord Manga Khan's' arrival to this planet, Clark had a bad feeling rolling in his gut. The timing of these events could not be a coincidence.

And, after replaying Manga Khan's message in his head, Clark worried about their true intentions. Despite the flowery business-speak, it didn't seem like Manga Kkan tried to be subtle with his threats.

Hearing the concerned conversations of the city-dwellers, Clark confirmed he wasn't the only one worried. Most of them could tell there was something off. Despite the ancient ruins of a distant spacefaring age, it was clear these people did not witness spaceships dropping in on a regular basis. Or at all.

Clark really didn't want to have to step in if things got ugly. His list of problems was already long enough.

He decided that catching up with Meryl and getting her take on the situation was probably a good idea. She knew her world. And of course, as a reporter who couldn't contain her curiosity, she'd jump on an investigation like this.

Clark just stepped into view of Meryl's work jeep when his hearing—attuned to distress calls—picked up several panicked voices shouting from the other side of the city. It was impossible for him to ignore. He took off in a run by pure instinct, quickly going super speed out of view and into a breakneck flight.

Barely seconds later, he arrived at a facility built from an impressively preserved, enormous space carrier. Most of the smooth, curved exterior glistened a silver metallic sheen. Near the center of the facility rose a bluish dome constructed of hexagonal glass panels.

Dozens of people dressed in overalls, blue-collar attire, or white lab coats stumbled as they ran out of the carrier's entrance—an open ship hatch leading down a wide ramp lowered to the square out front and the nearby street.

Those who appeared in authority roles directed others, gesturing and shouting over one another. Despite their efforts, the majority of the workers were clearly panicked.

The scene was pure chaos as people pushed and shoved and screamed.

Emergency lights began flashing, and klaxons blared, drowning out most of the shouting.

Clark superspeed through the building, weaving in between workers with limbs sprawled out as they tried to run but were frozen in time. Their expressions locked in panic and confusion with wide eyes and open mouths. The chorus of noises shifted into a deep, drawn out tone like from the leftmost key on a piano.

Further inside, a grated, raised corridor opened up into a long, spacious room. Above and below were additional floors of similar platforms.

Rows upon rows of bulb-like pods hung from the curved walls. Each pod was filled with some kind of cloudy fluid that glowed brightly in blue yet tinged purple from the red lights. Round, white objects floated in the center of each pod.

A number of uniformed security guards armed with police-grade handguns or patrol rifles faced the center of the room.

Various shouts of "Return the Plant!" and "Stand down or we'll shoot!" were directed at the obvious intruders near the guards.

Clark quickly realized this must've been one of the Plant facilities Meryl had mentioned.

A remarkably tall, muscular figure leaped forward at one of the guards, knocking the man forcefully into the railing along the edge of the corridor. The guard crumpled, his weapon clattering along the floor several feet away.

Surrounding the figure stood four equally bulky humanoid-shaped robots coated in a shiny, bronze-like plating. One robot manned some kind of machinery akin to a forklift, but it hovered weightlessly in the air.

One of the cylindrical, liquid-filled pods was attached to the machine. Inside the pod, one of those white, round masses— roughly the shape of a beetroot or flower bud—bobbed delicately, cushioned within the viscous liquid.

Right after the next guard took a shot but missed, the brutish thief ripped the rifle out of his hands. The thief then quickly took the man down with a punch to his stomach.

Without wasting more time studying the room and situation, Clark sped over to the commotion in a blur.

Getting a good look at the thief, Clark immediately concluded that this guy was most assuredly not human.

Although humanoid in most ways, the figure had ghostly pale gray skin and dark, tapered markings on his face that made his blood-red eyes stand out.

He had an angular face haloed by long, mane-like black hair and goatee. A wide, menacing grin curved over his face.

The muscular alien wore all black. The outfit, as a whole, instantly made Clark think of a hardcore biker. His broad chest and chiseled abs were exposed by his unbuttoned sleeveless leather vest. Silver metal studs adorned leather gauntlets, his belt, shoulders, and the tips of his boots.

Superman dashed in front of one of the guards virtually in an instant, blocking another punch thrown by the large alien man. The thief's grin curled downward into a frown for a moment before it returned with a vengeance.

The two trembled, bulging muscles tensed in a war of matched strength. The alien sized Superman up, eyes coming to a rest on the emblem on Clark's chest.

The man spoke a sentence or two in a gruff, snarling voice, but Clark couldn't understand a word. The man must have realized that fact at Clark's lack of reaction.

With his other hand, the brute reached down and pressed a button on his belt. "Translating Interlac," a feminine artificial voice spoke in English.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? A mother fraggin' Kryptonian? And a bastich from the House of El?" His eyes bore into Superman's, and his grin exposed yellowed teeth. His breath smelled strongly of cigar smoke and something Clark probably didn't want to know.

"I believe the caretakers of this facility asked you to return the Plant. For the wellbeing of the people of this city, please do as they asked," Superman replied, his voice as deep and authoritative as he could muster. He still wavered with the other man's fist in his outstretched hand.

The alien roared with laughter, spittle flying out. "A fraggin' polite Kryptonian at that? This day just got hella more amusin'."

With that, the brute slammed his knee into Superman's gut and then kicked him away. Clark choked out a grunt, sliding backward into the railing, which bent, almost snapping, from the force of impact.

As Superman recovered from the blow, the alien grabbed a chained, curved blade from a loop on his belt, swinging the weapon in wide circles. He let the blade fly at his foe. Superman raised an arm to block, but instead of slicing him, the chained weapon wrapped around his forearm.

The alien tried to pull him closer, readying a clenched fist for another punch. Superman instead flew up, making the man stumble and then get pulled off his feet. The ability clearly startled Superman's foe, his red eyes going wide.

Superman tugged the chain, whipping it around at superspeed and launching the man to the far end of the Plant chamber.

The man crashed with a reverberating clang, destroying the metal platform. He sailed down at an angle through the next platform below, leaving thick cracks and a large dent in the floor, finally coming to a stop.

Rising to his feet and laughing again, the alien scrubbed a meaty hand through his hair. A trickle of blood coated his temple and hand from a cut on his forehead.

"Oh, man! This is the most fun I had in a long time!" He leaped back up, grabbed the rails of the platform above, and swung himself up and over, landing in a kneeling position.

Superman continued to hover in the air but briefly turned his attention towards the robots. The four bots were making significant progress in their trek through the facility while he and his opponent were distracted fighting.

Superman didn't notice as his opponent grabbed a blaster rifle from a holster strapped to his back. The alien shot at Superman.

A red beam of energy hit Superman powerfully in the back, sending him flying through the air above the corridor. Clark was able to right himself in mid-air just inches away from hitting one of the Plant bulbs along the wall.

The remaining guards still had their patrol rifles trained on the thief. However, a few wavered at the sight of a super-strong flying man, sweeping their aim from Superman and back to the other alien.

The remaining security guards' and facility workers' cries were getting more desperate. They were helpless to intervene between the two superpowered beings.

Another group of guards had turned their attention to stopping the robots but weren't having much more luck on that front.

The guards aiming at the thief shot without hesitation, but most bullets went wide. A few even hit the brute, but the shots had little to no effect on him. He'd take the hits, his flesh pierced and bleeding, but the wounds clotted and then healed within moments.

The alien thief returned fire, forcing the humans to jump out of the way. One of the guards took a blast to the shoulder. A bloody, blistering wound seared over his flesh, causing the man to scream out in pain. Another guard ran to the man's side, dragging him out of harm's way.

"Go! Try to save the Plant!" Superman called to the men below.

They hesitated momentarily, staring in awe at the man hovering above them. But whoever was in charge nodded and called out to the rest to focus their efforts on the robots.

Superman sped back around, ramming into the thief with full force. He flew them up, crashing through the roof of the building—the solid metal of the roof yielding like paper to their supernatural strength. Superman needed to get them away before more innocent people got hurt.

They scuffled, punches and kicks exchanged as they tumbled higher and higher into the sky. A cracked rib here, an aching bruise there. Neither giving up in the slightest.

Superman ripped the blaster from the other man's grasp, tossing it far away. In return, the man growled in irritation and kicked Superman away. But unlike Superman, apparently, the alien didn't have the ability to fly. He began plummeting in a free fall toward the ground.

The man whistled shrilly, two fingers between his lips. A few beats later, a roaring rev of an engine filled the air. A flying vehicle, flames blazing from its exhaust pipes, soared to its master like an obedient dog.

The bike's aesthetic went hand-in-hand with its rider—all black except for a few glowing red accents. A horned, demon-like masthead adorned the front. Rust, or perhaps dried blood, flecked its pointed horns.

The hover-bike swept under the alien a couple hundred yards from the city below. The man grabbed onto its handlebars and was able to seat himself. He swerved the bike around in a wide turn, slowing it to hover in place.

Clark called out, "Who are you? What do you want with that Plant?" His cloak whipped around him from a strong updraft.

The alien laughed and resumed smirking. He opened a compartment on his bike, pulled out a fat cigar, and lit it up. He took a contented drag, blowing out smoke that got carried away with the wind.

"The name's Lobo. The Last Czarnian." He pointed the burning end of his cigar towards Superman. "Just like you're the Last Kryptonian. Fraggin' coincidence, eh?"

Clark almost fell out of the sky from his words.

He could feel his face pale, and a wave of distress overcame him. What the heck did this guy mean, 'the last?' All evidence indicated there were more people out there in the galaxy like him, didn't it?

"I'm just here doing my job. 'Resource Survey Escort.' Personally, I prefer the mercenary or bounty hunter gig. But, there's good money working for Mister Gold and Shiny." He took another inhale of his cigar.

Lobo's brow raised as he asked, "The real question is, what are you doing here? You here for kicks, lording over these squishy human vermin?"

"What? No, of course not," Clark replied and waved his hands automatically in defense of the absurd accusation.

"Huh. You're kinda strange for a Kryptonian," the alien said, smile fading slightly.

It returned as something dawned on him. He searched through another compartment on his bike, pulling out something small Clark couldn't quite make out.

"Ya know. There are still bounties out on rogue Kryptonians. They call us the 'last of our kind,' but there's always the ones that got away."

A small, glowing green rock adorned a ring Lobo slipped on a finger of his dominant right hand.

Clark flinched away from the green glow that, instinctively, he knew could bring him to his knees.

Lobo chuckled gruffly, amused by his obvious reaction. His cigar clenched loosely between his teeth.

"This tiny irradiated chunk of your home world was a souvenir I picked up from a salvager a few years back. Only fitting I wear it to commemorate collecting the bounty on yer pretty little head."

Lobo revved the engine loudly, hitting the gas and sending his bike rocketing toward Superman.

Superman flung himself away in a hurry. Directionless, he flew as fast as he could push himself.

A desperate part of him knew he needed to figure out how to take down this Czarnian without getting too close to the Kryptonite. He needed distance and time to think. Time he didn't have.

He could hear Lobo laughing loudly behind him. "I like me a good chase. Gets the blood pumping!"

Clark risked a look over his shoulder. He was actually pulling ahead. He swooped around, back in the direction of the Plant facility, not forgetting that the robots were still carting away their loot.

A deafening explosion sent a blast of flames just feet away from Superman's back. He spun around, flying backward. Despite the concerning test of his powers earlier, Superman gathered energy behind his eyes and shot a white-hot beam of heat vision at the Czarnian.

Lobo reacted half a second too late as the beam clipped the side of his bike. But not too late to chuck another incendiary grenade at his bounty.

Lobo lost control of his bike as it went spinning. Smoke poured out of a melted hole in a twirling spiral as it descended through the air.

"Frag! Frag! Frag! My Romona!" Lobo cursed, yanking his handlebars in an attempt to counter its wild spin.

At the same time, Clark didn't have enough speed to escape the blast of the second grenade. The fire licked at his skin and uniform.

Fortunately, as Superman exited the explosive radius and the flames died out, he found the grenade had little effect on his mostly invulnerable body. The uniform also survived the normally destructive attack. His cloak was a little singed near the hem but was otherwise as vibrant red as before.

Must be that sci-fi-magic in effect.

Finally, righting his bike from its spin, Lobo flew it back up to Superman's altitude but at a safe distance.

"Ugh, are you really from Krypton?" Lobo asked, easing off his offensive.

"I'm from Kansas," Clark replied, not really knowing how to respond.

Lobo scratched his beard, an eyebrow raised. "Something from Kansas made you strong. Weird strong. Plus, I ain't ever heard of no flying Kryptonian." He waved a hand in the look around us motion.

Before Clark could respond, an unusual sound caught their attention.

He risked taking his eye off the bounty hunter. A truck-sized space shuttle hovered off the ground near the Plant facility's entrance. A second later, it rose into the sky, picking up speed rapidly as it reached atmospheric escape velocity.

The guards streaming out of the building were all still crying out and shooting at the ship as it escaped. Clark clenched his jaw, realizing they were getting away with the stolen Plant.

He momentarily forgot about the Czarnian and took off after the spaceship.

Of course, the brief distraction was just the opportunity his opponent needed to strike.

Before Superman could pick up significant speed, he heard the engine rev loudly and felt Lobo's bike slam into him. Clark choked out another cry of pain and surprise. The impact was enough even to bruise his flesh and bone of steel.

Lobo kept his foot on the pedal, shoving Superman helplessly down towards the ground. And away from the fleeing space shuttle.

Lobo boldly leaped straight out of the bike's seat and grabbed a hold of Superman by his uniform. He began pummeling Superman with his Kryptonite-encrusted fist. Clark could feel his eyes and face swelling from the Czarnian's punches.

Clark also immediately felt the overwhelming agony and nausea of the rock's poisonous effect. Green crystal protrusions bubbled up in random places all over his skin. He gasped for breath as his throat constricted.

The pair hurtled like a comet through the city airspace.

Before his rapidly dwindling powers drained completely, Superman gathered what remained of his energy in a last-ditch effort to defend himself. He blasted Lobo with the strongest heat vision he could. The beam quickly dulled to a less vibrant reddish-orange, indicating his declining strength.

The Czarnian's right fist and arm took the brunt of the heat, and his skin bubbled up in a gnarly blister. At such a close range, the heat vision was enough to shock Lobo into letting go. He recoiled, pushing himself away from his prey without thinking.

Like earlier, Lobo began falling.

On the other hand, Clark used the tiniest bit of strength he had left to slow his descent. He more or less glided rather than flew to find cover.

His breathing was still ragged, but he could at least get air into his lungs now that the Kryptonite was far enough away.

Lobo whistled again, calling his bike to catch him a second time.

Clark crashed into the ground without too much damage to the surrounding property or his increasingly sore body. He shuffled into a quiet alley and slid down to sit in a dark corner away from any onlookers.

Clark could just make out the sound of Lobo's bike as the brute rode it in a wide sweep of the area. It seemed the Czarnian had lost sight of his prey.

After a few minutes, Lobo scoffed, calling out, "Till next time, Kryptonian!" and followed the shuttle back into space.

In disappointment at his failure, Clark lightly banged the back of his head against the brick wall. Everything stung and ached and continued to swell.

Superman just couldn't catch a break.

—T&J—