Spider-Bat: New Way Home

Chapter 25: Sabotage

The group sat in Xavier's study, the atmosphere tense but calmer after the earlier conflict. As Xavier processed the details of the story shared by Peter, Clark, and Alfred, Peter glanced at Scott and Ororo, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"So, how'd you two get your powers?" Peter asked, breaking the silence.

Scott folded his arms and leaned back, his expression guarded. "We were born with them, kid."

Peter tilted his head. "Born with them?" he echoed, his tone laced with surprise.

Ororo stepped in, her voice calm but tinged with pride. "Yes, we are mutants. I'm sure you've read about us in the tabloids. But it's true—we were gifted these powers at birth." She studied Peter for a moment. "And you? How did you and Clark get your abilities?"

Peter scratched the back of his head. "Well, I got my web-shooting powers from a spider bite. As for the other stuff—strength, agility, all that—I think I was born with it, but I'm not exactly sure where it came from." He glanced toward Clark. "And as for him... I honestly don't have a clue. Based on the information I got from Doctor Banner, I'd say he's an alien."

Scott smirked, his tone almost teasing. "Apparently, his powers come from the Sun."

Clark, standing off to the side, heard the comment clearly. He stepped forward, his expression steady but serious. "I'm Kryptonian," he said, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

Ororo frowned, tilting her head. "What country is that?"

Clark chuckled lightly, though his expression was tinged with melancholy. "Krypton isn't a country. It's a planet... or at least, it was. My planet. I'm the last one of my kind. My ship crash-landed here when I was a baby."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

Scott raised an eyebrow, his earlier skepticism giving way to genuine intrigue. "That explains how you could take my blasts," he admitted. But then he smirked again, his confidence returning. "But I know your weakness."

Clark turned to Scott, his piercing blue eyes narrowing. His voice dropped into a low, dangerous tone. "I could have moved faster than your eyes could see... and ripped your heart out if I wanted to."

The air grew thick with tension as Scott's smirk faltered. He swallowed hard, recognizing the deadly seriousness in Clark's expression.

Before the atmosphere could darken further, Xavier spoke up, his tone commanding but calm. "Enough. There is no need for such hostility." He looked at Clark, his gaze steady. "We will focus on the matter at hand. Let me show you something."

Xavier led the group to a hidden chamber beneath the mansion, where a massive, intricate machine dominated the room.

"This is Cerebro," Xavier explained, gesturing to the device. "It allows me to locate most humans and mutants across the globe. I will use it to find Wolverine and, hopefully, end this conflict before it escalates further."

The group watched in silence as Xavier donned a helmet and closed his eyes, concentrating. The machine hummed to life, the walls filling with faint, glowing outlines of figures representing countless people around the world.

Moments later, Xavier removed the helmet, his expression grim.

"I've found him," he said, his voice heavy with unease. He turned to Clark. "It appears that Wolverine is at your parents' home in Kansas."

Clark's eyes widened, his composure breaking for the first time. "My parents?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Xavier nodded solemnly. "I fear he may not be alone. I couldn't get a read on his mind, but If Lobo is with him, your family could be in grave danger."

Clark clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as worry and determination filled his face.

Xavier placed a hand on Clark's shoulder. "We have a jet that can get you there quickly. I suggest we—"

But Clark was already moving. "There's no time," he said, rushing out of the room.

Clark emerged into the open air, his heart pounding. He had never flown long distances before—only short leaps, a mile or two at most—but there was no other choice. His parents' lives depended on him.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself, then broke into a sprint. With a powerful leap, he launched into the air, soaring upward. The flight was shaky at first; the unfamiliar sensation of sustained motion made it difficult to control his trajectory. After a few miles, he faltered, landing hard in an open field.

Gritting his teeth, Clark pushed himself to his feet. "Focus," he muttered to himself.

He crouched low, concentrating harder this time. As he leapt again, he adjusted his posture, letting his body streamline through the air. This time, the flight was smoother. He soared like an eagle, his confidence growing with every second.

The wind roared past him as he pushed himself faster and faster, the landscape below becoming a blur. Soon, his speed rivaled that of a jet, then surpassed it. The fabric of his clothes began to tear under the strain, but he didn't care. All that mattered was reaching Kansas.

The sun peeked through the clouds, its rays energizing him as he climbed higher into the sky. Clark clenched his fists, determination etched into his face.

"I'm coming, Mom. Dad. Just hold on."

With a final burst of speed, Clark broke the sound barrier, leaving a deafening sonic boom in his wake as he raced toward home.

Clark's mind raced as fast as his body hurtled through the skies. The thought of his parents in danger pushed him harder than ever before. The wind clawed at his face, and his shredded clothes flapped wildly as he neared his family's Kansas farm.

In the distance, he saw the familiar outline of his childhood home. Smoke curled faintly from the chimney, but something felt off. His enhanced hearing picked up faint voices—gruff and angry.

Clark landed in a cornfield just out of sight, his boots sinking into the soil. He crouched low, scanning the house with his X-ray vision. Inside, he saw two figures he didn't recognize—Wolverine and Lobo. Wolverine paced the living room, his claws rigid and boney as if carved from wood. Lobo lounged casually in an armchair, his massive frame taking up most of the space, his pale skin and red eyes an unsettling contrast to the rustic décor.

And there, sitting at the kitchen table, were Jonathan and Martha Kent. His parents appeared calm, but Clark could tell from the tension in their posture that they were terrified. He also scanned the area for Rick, but he was nowhere to be found. Then he noticed the farm truck was missing, which probably meant Rick had gone into town for supplies.

Clark's jaw tightened. He couldn't afford to make a mistake—not with his parents' lives on the line.

Inside the Kent house, "So, you're saying the kid isn't here?" Wolverine growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"I told you, we don't know where he is," Jonathan replied evenly, though his hands trembled slightly as he clutched the table.

Martha, ever the diplomat, tried to keep the peace. "Why don't you tell us why you're looking for our son? Maybe we can help."

Lobo chuckled darkly, spinning a knife between his fingers. "Oh, we don't need help, lady. We just need the boy wonder to show his face."

Wolverine snorted, but his sharp senses suddenly flared. He straightened, sniffing the air. "He's close."

Clark burst through the front door, the wooden frame shattering like kindling. He stood tall, his eyes glowing faintly red, his torn clothes hanging off his shoulders like a battle-worn warrior.

"Get away from them," he said, his voice a low growl.

Lobo grinned, rising to his full, imposing height. "There he is, the man of the hour!"

Wolverine stepped forward, his claws unsheathing with a sharp snikt. "Took you long enough, farm boy."

Clark ignored their taunts, his focus solely on his parents. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softening slightly.

"We're fine, son," Jonathan said, though his eyes betrayed his fear.

Martha stood, her voice firm. "Clark, don't do anything reckless."

But Lobo wasn't about to let the moment simmer. He charged at Clark, his massive fists swinging like sledgehammers. Clark sidestepped the attack with superhuman speed, grabbing Lobo by the wrist and throwing him through the front wall and into the yard.

"You'll regret that, kid!" Lobo roared, picking himself up and dusting off splinters.

Wolverine wasted no time, leaping at Clark with claws bared. Clark caught him mid-air, holding him at arm's length. "I don't want to hurt you," Clark said, his voice calm but firm.

Wolverine snarled. "Too bad, 'cause I do."

Clark flung Wolverine back, sending him skidding across the floor. Wolverine was on his feet in an instant, but before he could charge again, Clark raised a hand.

"This is your last warning," Clark said, his eyes flashing. "Leave now, or you'll regret it."

Lobo cracked his neck, a wild grin spreading across his face. "Let's see what you've got, Kryptonian."

Lobo rushed at Clark again, and this time, Clark didn't hold back. He met Lobo head-on, their clash sending shockwaves rippling through the house. The walls shook, and furniture toppled over as the two titans exchanged blows. Dust and debris clouded the room as Lobo sent Clark crashing through a wall.

Clark rose from the dust, his eyes blazing with anger. "You wanted a fight? Fine. You're gonna get one!" he declared.

He unleashed a powerful burst of heat vision, sweeping it across the room. Lobo dodged to the side, but the beam caught his arm, vaporizing part of it. Lobo howled in pain, only for his arm to begin regenerating almost instantly.

Wolverine charged through the heat blast, his skin bubbling and burning, but his healing factor kept him moving. He slashed at Clark again, this time aiming for his legs. Clark jumped, avoiding the attack, and landed a spinning kick that sent Wolverine crashing into the kitchen cabinets.

"You're tougher than you look," Clark admitted, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.

Lobo laughed, raising his plasma cannon again. "And you're outta your league, Kryptonian."

The fight in the Kent household had spiraled out of control. Despite Clark's warnings and best efforts to protect his parents, Lobo and Wolverine had proven to be relentless. Clark's exhaustion was beginning to show as he struggled to match their ferocity.

Finally, Wolverine seized his chance. With a swift, predatory movement, he leapt across the room, positioning himself behind Martha Kent. His claws extended with a menacing snikt, the boney blades just inches from her head.

"Move a muscle, and it's the last thing your ma sees," Wolverine growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"Martha!" Clark shouted, his voice breaking. His body tensed, every instinct screaming at him to act, but he froze, his parents' safety his only priority.

"Smart boy," Lobo said, stepping forward with a wicked grin. "Now, let's put ya outta commission, Kryptonian."

Before Clark could react, Lobo raised his massive cannon and fired. The blast hit Clark square in the chest, the payload of Kryptonite shredding through his superhuman defenses. Clark cried out in pain as the glowing green fragments burrowed into his skin. He collapsed to his knees, gasping, his strength draining away with every passing second. Never before had he felt such excruciating pain.

"Guess you're not so tough after all," Lobo sneered, swinging the butt of his cannon downward at the head of the weakened Kryptonian, the hit causing Clark to fall flat on his back.

As Lobo and Wolverine dragged Clark toward the door, he looked back at his parents. Jonathan stood frozen, his hand clutching his chest. His face was pale, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

"Dad?" Clark croaked, his voice barely audible.

Jonathan staggered, his breathing shallow and erratic. Martha caught him as he fell, panic overtaking her. "Jonathan! Stay with me!" she cried, lowering him gently to the ground.

Clark's heart shattered as he watched the scene unfold, helpless to intervene. "Dad! No!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with desperation.

"We've gotta keep movin', sunshine," Wolverine snarled, dragging Clark further out the door.

Martha clung to Jonathan, tears streaming down her face as his breathing slowed. "Please, don't leave me," she whispered.

Jonathan's eyes fluttered open one last time. "Take care of him, Martha. I love you-" he rasped before his body went still.

By the time Xavier, Peter, Alfred, Scott, and Ororo arrived at the Kent farm, the damage was done. The house was in ruins, the front yard littered with debris from the fight. Inside, they found Martha on the floor, cradling Jonathan's lifeless body.

"Martha," Alfred said softly, rushing to her side. He knelt beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "What happened?"

"They took him," Martha sobbed, her voice broken. "Clark… they took my boy. And now Jonathan—he's gone."

Peter's jaw tightened as he surveyed the scene, his eyes lingering on the destruction and the grief-stricken Martha. "Where did they take him?" he asked, his voice trembling with anger.

"I don't know," she whispered, clutching Jonathan's hand. "They just… took him."

Xavier closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind, but the distance and chaos made it difficult to pinpoint Clark's location. "Something must be shielding him," he said grimly. "I'm getting a reading from something otherworldly, something I can't quite make out."

Scott's fists clenched, his face dark with anger. "We'll find them. I swear we will."

Ororo placed a comforting hand on Martha's shoulder. "We'll do everything we can to bring him back."

But the words felt hollow in the face of such loss. The group stood in silence, the weight of the tragedy hanging heavily over them.

Suddenly, footsteps creaking the porch could be heard approaching the doorway. Scott focused his visor towards the oncoming noise. "Wait!" Alfred shouted. "It's Rick!"

Rick walked in, his eyes widening from the destruction. "What happened?" he asked, confused. "I was only gone for an hour."

Meanwhile, Clark lay slumped in Lobo's small spaceship, his body weak and his vision blurry from the lingering effects of the Kryptonite. Every breath was labored, every movement a struggle.

"You're in for a fun ride, sunshine," Lobo said, laughing as he powered up the ship.

Wolverine sat nearby, his gaze fixed on Clark. "What's the plan with him?" he asked, his voice devoid of the usual bravado.

"Deliver 'im to the highest bidder," Lobo replied. "The last son of Krypton fetches a pretty price." Lobo's lips then curled into a menacing grin. "And… as for you, mate…" he glared at Wolverine. "Someone has already paid me to deliver you to them."

Just then, the ship began filling up with gas, causing Wolverine to start coughing uncontrollably. Wolverine tried to fight the toxins, but it was of no use. The knockout gas was too powerful, causing him to pass out from where he sat.

Lobo took to his radio. "Trask. I have the packages. I will be delivering them soon," he informed. "You and Brainiac better have the money you promised me."

Clark clenched his fists weakly, anger boiling beneath his helplessness, his senses fading with the gas. He would find a way to fight back. He had to. For his parents, for his home—he wouldn't let this be the end.

And then... everything went black.