![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Duality
Fandom: Nolanverse Batman, Superman Returns
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,184
Characters/Pairings: Clark Kent, Kara Kent
Acknowledgments: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
damo_in_japan for betaing this.
Previous Part: Chapter 11
Next Part: Chapter 13
Summary: All Kara wants to know is how her cousin could stand against a great man like General Zod.
In Texas alone, there was one highway death every two hours and thirty-four minutes. An injury every one minute and fifty-four seconds. A collision every ninety-seven seconds. And that was just when people drove. Fifty states in the country. A hundred and ninety-three countries by conservative estimate. And in every single one of them, people (6.5 billion all over the world, three more born every seconds) were crying out for a hero. No, not a hero, not anymore. A savior.
And despite all that, when it was closing time at the Daily Planet – an arbitrary event, minded only by the janitors who came in to clean up around the deadline-racing staffers – he tuned an ear or focused his vision on Lois. Didn’t matter where he was. Clark tried to tell himself he was just watching out for her – what if her car had a blow-out or something? She had a kid now – but even when she was home, safe and sound, he found himself lingering nearby, resisting the urge to pry into her life. He didn’t know what he was doing there. What he was looking for. Richard to beat her up, so he could swoop in and save the day? To overhear her saying “Kal-El, take me away!” Would he, even if she asked?
Jason deserved a family.
It was all too much for him. He could conquer death, although that selfish action had risked the integrity of time itself, but he couldn’t prevail against the ravages of the human heart. And part of him thought it was because he wasn’t human. That in some way, he couldn’t empathize with them. He was a freak. He could see through them, but he couldn’t really know them. His brain chemistry was different, his brainwaves resonated on different frequencies, he wasn’t wired the same. It was as his father had said. Even though he’d been raised as human, he was not one of them.
His internal clock went off. Clark knew it was as accurate as any timepiece. With a sigh, he tuned his ear to the Daily Planet. Closing time. There it was, the clickety-klack of a keyboard as Lois put the finishing touches on her article, followed by the whine of the printer as it went to work. He could cruise through Metropolis, fight a little street crime, be in place when she went home (which would be soon, because she always tried to tuck Jason in -- and he shouldn’t know that, that was creepy, what was wrong with him?).
But no. Not tonight. That was the action of a lonely man. And he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
With a last wave to Jimmy and Richard on the roof of the Daily Planet, he stopped flying and soared. The world blurred around the edges as he flew down the familiar path. The air currents were oh-so-familiar as they broke across his face, updrafts and thermals and wind shear (all cooler now that the sun had set), like slipping on a comfortable pair of jeans. Soon he had crossed the state line into Kansas. Different at night, but no less warm. Even to him, the stars seemed a little brighter. It was almost like stepping back in time to an America his mind insisted had never really existed.
Superman lowered himself to Earth, careful as always to ease out of his sonic flight and into a feather-soft landing. If a ball bearing had been on the ground beside where he touched down, it wouldn’t have rolled. From just below the clouds he’d seen a speeding form part the cornstalks to either side like a torpedo underwater. Now he shifted his sight to the spectrum the pressed had dubbed “X-ray vision.”
Cornstalks melted away like ice chips in the sun, revealing a flash of red lightning. Superman tapped into the motion force that always tingled like 10,000 volts, literally bringing himself up to speed. Time seemed to slow down, all motion now slogging through the aspic of the world. Except for one: Kara, wearing his old red jacket, long tans legs pistoning under her.
Superman shook his head and took off after her, flying just above the cornfield. It took some exertion, but he caught up with her. She wasn’t breaking a sweat, she was just enjoying her power. Obviously, she hadn’t learned a better way to control her supersenses than to just shut them out. Clark slid up behind her and said “Try jumping.”
Kara snapped her head to look at him with an open-mouthed gape of surprise. Knowing how temperamental she could be, Superman didn’t laugh. He just gestured up. Slender legs coiled under cut-off jeans and Kara jumped. Superman watched her abrupt elevation (steep as a cliff) and then a leisurely parabola down as she strained with her nascent flight ability. He let her gain some altitude before he joined her up near the clouds. Her smile was wide and young. There was hope for her yet.
Kara felt the clouds against her face. “It’s almost like…”
“Flying?”
He caught her before she dug up a furrow in Ben Hubbard’s yard. His hand was around her wrist, but she didn’t return the favor.
“I can fly on my own!”
“You can glide. That’s not flying, that’s falling with style.”
Kara noticed the ground was dwindling beneath her. She clung to Kal-El’s thick arm with her thin ones. “Don’t drop me!”
“I would never.”
Clark concentrated hard. Some scientists had theorized that he had a kind of tactile telekinesis. If he caught an airplane, a subconscious field of psychic energy kept it together instead of fracturing. Clark didn’t know about that, but he did know that when he really thought about it, he found it easy to lift things with limited leverage, or make them almost float beside him, even uncork champagne bottles with a single touch. It was almost like he could slide someone’s center of gravity around to make them easier to lift, stop them without snapping their arm out of a socket. Came in handy, although Bruce probably hated him a little for not caring how it worked so long as it worked.
Very gently he eased Kara up to fly beside him. Her free hand was still wrapped around his bicep as he took them over the cloud cover. Clark gently tapped on the knuckles of that hand, then flung his arm out wide. Reluctantly, Kara followed his lead. Connected only by Superman’s outstretched arm, they flew.
“I heard you’d been going a little stir-crazy,” Clark said.
Kara cocked her head to one side.
“You know… cabin fever?”
Kara cocked her head to the other side.
“You’re bored.”
“So you’re taking me to Metropolis? To help with your mission?” Kara’s voice had already lifted with excitement.
“First off, I don’t really have a mission in the way you’re implying. I’m not trying to turn Earth into New Krypton.”
“Pity. They could use it. Do you know they still grow food in the dirt?”
“I might’ve overheard something of that nature.” Clark saw Kara wasn’t amused. “It’s fine. They clean it.”
“But dirt is so… dirty!”
“You know, they play in it sometimes.”
“Ewww!”
“Walk barefoot in it, throw it at each other when it’s wet…”
“Disgusting!”
“It’s fun.”
“To you, maybe.”
“There’s an old saying on Earth: Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
“I don’t need a Thanagarian Snare Beast’s ovipositor rammed down my throat to know I wouldn’t like it.”
Clark pointed to a strata of dark clouds on the horizon. “See that electrical storm?”
Kara had sensed, by both word and direction, that they weren’t going to Metropolis. “It crossed my notice,” she said poutily.
“Do you think it’d be fun to fly through?”
“Of course not! There are high-speed winds, hyper-electrical discharges, uncontrolled precipitation – another of this world’s technological deficits—“
Clark merely smiled. “Hang on,” he advised.
They plunged into the storm. Kara was buffeted, soaked, shocked, but it was all worth it for the moment Kal tossed her into an updraft, letting the wind unshackle her from gravity before he caught her and carried her out of the storm, saying “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”
The storm had been violent, primal, nothing at all like the carefully planned showers of Krypton. But Kal was right. She had enjoyed it.
“Kal… Clark, I need to talk to you about something.”
“We’ll talk at the Fortress,” Clark sung into her ear. “For now, enjoy the ride.”
They dried off with the friction of supersonic flight, quite warm as their speed cracked the icefields below. They were in the Arctic now. Kara knew from the polar bears and the way the magnetosphere funneled into a cusp. Kara had tired, and now she was snuggled against Superman, him cradling her to his chest, wrapped up in the warm embrace of his cape. If she’d known they were headed for the North Pole, she would’ve dressed in longer pants.
“This is a very special place to me,” Clark said. “Some days, it felt like the closest thing I had to a home. I hope you’ll come to see it that way too.”
“Will it help me get ready to aid you in your not-mission?”
“That’s the idea.”
The polar winds sliced into them. Kara pulled the cape tighter around her dainty shoulders. Above, the aurora borealis flared and rolled. Kara tensed as they flew through it, but the weird energy just tickled her skin. She huddled closer to Kal-El. Then she heard it. The clear, virtuoso hum of crystals at work. Scouring the horizon, she saw it.
At first Kara thought it was a mountain, then she extended her vision as Kal had taught her and saw it more clearly. It was a palace of bygone Krypton! “Is that the place?”
“Well, it’s not Santa Claus’s workshop.”
Judging from his vocal inflection, Kara decided this was a joke and no individual by the name of Santa Claus possessed Kryptonian technology.
As they approached, Kal’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?” Kara asked.
“Looks like tracks in the snow. And the ice on the surface of the water only formed recently.”
“So someone’s been here!”
“Probably just some explorers who got turned around. The security system will have set them straight. Still, I’d better check the Fortress’s surveillance logs.”
“Fortress?”
“I used to have this treehouse my dad… Jonathan Kent, I mean… called it my Fortress of Solitude. I thought it sounded cool. Still do, truthfully. Jor-El sent a crystal seed with me in the life capsule. It grew this place for me.”
“To what end?”
Clark landed. Kara gave him his cape back; he re-secured it with a sweep.
“Jor-El downloaded his consciousness into the crystals to serve as a mentor for me. But the energy banks were depleted. Now it’s nothing more than a database.” Clark lowered his eyes, voice falling too. “A pocket calculator.”
“Kryptonian energy banks can last for millennia. What could have-”
“A mistake.”
Clark prodded open the 200-foot-tall door. It fell off its multi-ton hinges, toppling like a demolished skyscraper. It hit the ground with such force that the crystal it was made out of shattered and the ground where it hit cracked open. Clark watched in shock as the diamond dust settled.
“Kal…”
“I know,” Clark said through suddenly clenched teeth. He took off, flying through the Fortress at top speed. His passage stirred up the detritus of unwelcome guests, candy wrappers and wadded-up tissues Maybe it was Kryptonian ESP, maybe it was just a reporter’s instincts, but he could see every degradation the intruders had inflicted on Krypton’s legacy. Entire sections of the beautiful living crystal had been amputated and crated off. Graffiti had been spray-painted on the translucent walls, tainting the panoramic view. He cataloged every insult, every desecration, flying so fast he became a living Möbius strip.
The more agitated he became, the more aloof Kara was. She calmly toed a door fragment that came up to her waist. “Given human strength – or lack thereof – they’d need mechanized assistance to remove the door, plus a jamming device to interrupt the energy field reinforcing it… the ability to build the jamming device, requiring an eighth-level intellect…”
“Stop talking, I know who did this.”
Superman had come to a stop, hovering over the Fortress’s central atrium. He was trembling with rage, cape fluttering membrane-like with each quake. Like a twitchy animal. Before him, the cradle where all that remained of his father had rested in a crystal tomb. Now all it held was a set of neatly chiseled block letters reading “Lex Luthor was here.” As if stricken, Superman touched down, gently rattling the entire Fortress.
“Clark, I know this is a bad time… but I need to know about Zod.”
“Zod?” Superman reached out to touch the writing. “I took care of Zod. He’s in the Phantom Zone.”
Kara gulped. “But he… I mean… how could you?”
“He was a psychopath. He tried to take over Krypton.” Calm down. Stay cool. See if Lex left any traps, see if he took anything.
“No, you’re wrong! You’re lying!”
Superman whirled on her. “Zod was a lunatic and a monster! He subjugated Earth!”
“Can you blame him? These people, they keep killing and killing and they never stop! I can hear them! They’re crying out for a firm hand, someone to save them from themselves.”
“No, that’s—I don’t have time for this.” Luthor. He had to find Luthor.
“Didn’t you ever ask why he tried to lead a coup on Krypton?”
“I don’t care. He was power-mad, evil…”
“It was your father!”
Superman froze, as still as the crystal that surrounded him.
Kara sneered nastily. “Jor-El told Zod that Krypton would be destroyed. The General knew that the Science Council would dither and waste time, so he took matters into his own hands. Just like you do.” She began prodding him in the chest. “He was trying to save the world! If your beloved father hadn’t betrayed him, our family would still be alive!”
Superman grabbed her hand. “You’re wrong!”
“It’s right there in the crystals. Or has Jor-El been lying to you to cover his shame? I was there. He didn’t care about Krypton, so long as you survived. He was a coward who condemned home to—“ Her voice cracked. “All I ever wanted… Kal…”
Superman turned slowly to the open space where his father’s hologram had once been a constant fixture, the sun around which his world spun. It was dead. Empty.
Clark had been in this position before. After he gave up his powers and went against Jor-El’s wishes, the AI had fallen silent for what had seemed like an eternity before sacrificing itself… himself for Kal-El. Then, he’d had no one to blame but himself. Now, though…
His fists tightened like suns collapsing into neutron stars. His body broke the sound barrier almost before he left the ground, then he crashed through the ceiling. Kara watched him go, for the first time not really wanting to be with him.
***
Kitty Kowalski had been blessed with good looks, and not much else. She was canny without being smart, pretty without being beautiful, and cursed with a knack for attracting the wrong sort of man. Which Gotham City, her hometown, provided in spades. Following a string of bad luck, shed had a run of good. A job in the Wayne Enterprises mailroom, a reasonably good-looking (and nice) boss to flirt with, and her super finally got around to fixing the cable reception. She attributed this to going by Kitty instead of Katherine. Kitty was so much more approachable.
Then, one of the smaller-scale Luthor-Wayne pissing matches took place. Lex had been touring an office building that he was considering buying when he spotted her. She’d been nobody in particular, and her anonymity appealed to him. It vexed both the press and other, more high-profile lovers for him to date her.
For six months he showered her with gifts and attention, then abruptly tired of her and “demoted” Kitty to the receptionist of Lex Tower. She probably should’ve expected as much from a relationship that she’d had to sign a non-disclosure agreement to enter into. Still, receptionist had perks. It was kind of like being the public face of Lexcorp. And she did get to meet Superman.
He was just standing there in the lobby, arms crossed, with an expression that showed he would brook no fools. Everyone else in the room wisely refrained from autograph-seeking or photography. Kitty pressed the silent alarm that was supposed to summon that creepy Mr. Corben, but no one came. And in remarkably short order, the line waiting to petition Lexcorp dwindled away. Superman stepped up to the front desk, setting his palms flat against the desktops so gently that the wood creaked.
“Where’s. Luthor?”
Somewhere through the haze of her intimidation, Kitty managed to recall her employee handbook. “Mr. Luthor isn’t in right now. If you leave your name, contact information, and business, Mr. Luthor may attempt to contact you for an appointment.”
“’Mr. Luthor’ has something that belongs to me.”
“For any criminal allegations against Mr. Luthor, I am to refer you to the Lexcorp legal department.”
“I x-rayed this entire building. I don’t think he’s in one of the lead-lined areas, but I’d rather not tear this building apart to find out.”
Kitty gulped dry. “Lex isn’t here. He left on a business trip.”
“That’s easy enough to verify. I memorized Luthor’s heartbeat a long time ago.”
He took a deep breath, as if calming himself, then closed his eyes. The lobby, already reduced to hushed voices, completely shut up. Although, realistically, they could’ve been banging pots and pans next to his head and it wouldn’t have mattered. A few moments passed, in which Kitty became staggeringly aware of how loud her own heartbeat was. Then Superman cocked his head to one side in confusion, shook his head as if to clear it, and opened his eyes.
“I can’t hear him,” Superman said, his face clouded over with something Kitty couldn’t quite put her finger on. “I can’t hear him anywhere.”
“Would you like to leave a message?” Kitty asked hopefully.
Superman looked directly at her, his face setting with old rage. “Yes, I would.” He whirled around, facing the giant steel statue of Lex that dominated the lobby. Heat lashed out of his eyes, first in distorted waves – they just started to burn the statue – then in concentrated red lasers that penetrated into it, making the steel glow red as it bubbled and ran like an ice sculpture in a sauna. For an entire minute, Superman’s expression never changed and the energy never stopped pouring out of his eyes. Finally, the statue was a pool of molten metal, dripping off its former pedestal. The tide of slag washed over the plaque identifying the thankful charity that had ostensibly commissioned the statue.
“Tell Luthor that the next time I see him, I’m molding that into his prison bars.”
Fandom: Nolanverse Batman, Superman Returns
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,184
Characters/Pairings: Clark Kent, Kara Kent
Acknowledgments: Thanks to
damo_in_japan for betaing this.Previous Part: Chapter 11
Next Part: Chapter 13
Summary: All Kara wants to know is how her cousin could stand against a great man like General Zod.
In Texas alone, there was one highway death every two hours and thirty-four minutes. An injury every one minute and fifty-four seconds. A collision every ninety-seven seconds. And that was just when people drove. Fifty states in the country. A hundred and ninety-three countries by conservative estimate. And in every single one of them, people (6.5 billion all over the world, three more born every seconds) were crying out for a hero. No, not a hero, not anymore. A savior.
And despite all that, when it was closing time at the Daily Planet – an arbitrary event, minded only by the janitors who came in to clean up around the deadline-racing staffers – he tuned an ear or focused his vision on Lois. Didn’t matter where he was. Clark tried to tell himself he was just watching out for her – what if her car had a blow-out or something? She had a kid now – but even when she was home, safe and sound, he found himself lingering nearby, resisting the urge to pry into her life. He didn’t know what he was doing there. What he was looking for. Richard to beat her up, so he could swoop in and save the day? To overhear her saying “Kal-El, take me away!” Would he, even if she asked?
Jason deserved a family.
It was all too much for him. He could conquer death, although that selfish action had risked the integrity of time itself, but he couldn’t prevail against the ravages of the human heart. And part of him thought it was because he wasn’t human. That in some way, he couldn’t empathize with them. He was a freak. He could see through them, but he couldn’t really know them. His brain chemistry was different, his brainwaves resonated on different frequencies, he wasn’t wired the same. It was as his father had said. Even though he’d been raised as human, he was not one of them.
His internal clock went off. Clark knew it was as accurate as any timepiece. With a sigh, he tuned his ear to the Daily Planet. Closing time. There it was, the clickety-klack of a keyboard as Lois put the finishing touches on her article, followed by the whine of the printer as it went to work. He could cruise through Metropolis, fight a little street crime, be in place when she went home (which would be soon, because she always tried to tuck Jason in -- and he shouldn’t know that, that was creepy, what was wrong with him?).
But no. Not tonight. That was the action of a lonely man. And he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
With a last wave to Jimmy and Richard on the roof of the Daily Planet, he stopped flying and soared. The world blurred around the edges as he flew down the familiar path. The air currents were oh-so-familiar as they broke across his face, updrafts and thermals and wind shear (all cooler now that the sun had set), like slipping on a comfortable pair of jeans. Soon he had crossed the state line into Kansas. Different at night, but no less warm. Even to him, the stars seemed a little brighter. It was almost like stepping back in time to an America his mind insisted had never really existed.
Superman lowered himself to Earth, careful as always to ease out of his sonic flight and into a feather-soft landing. If a ball bearing had been on the ground beside where he touched down, it wouldn’t have rolled. From just below the clouds he’d seen a speeding form part the cornstalks to either side like a torpedo underwater. Now he shifted his sight to the spectrum the pressed had dubbed “X-ray vision.”
Cornstalks melted away like ice chips in the sun, revealing a flash of red lightning. Superman tapped into the motion force that always tingled like 10,000 volts, literally bringing himself up to speed. Time seemed to slow down, all motion now slogging through the aspic of the world. Except for one: Kara, wearing his old red jacket, long tans legs pistoning under her.
Superman shook his head and took off after her, flying just above the cornfield. It took some exertion, but he caught up with her. She wasn’t breaking a sweat, she was just enjoying her power. Obviously, she hadn’t learned a better way to control her supersenses than to just shut them out. Clark slid up behind her and said “Try jumping.”
Kara snapped her head to look at him with an open-mouthed gape of surprise. Knowing how temperamental she could be, Superman didn’t laugh. He just gestured up. Slender legs coiled under cut-off jeans and Kara jumped. Superman watched her abrupt elevation (steep as a cliff) and then a leisurely parabola down as she strained with her nascent flight ability. He let her gain some altitude before he joined her up near the clouds. Her smile was wide and young. There was hope for her yet.
Kara felt the clouds against her face. “It’s almost like…”
“Flying?”
He caught her before she dug up a furrow in Ben Hubbard’s yard. His hand was around her wrist, but she didn’t return the favor.
“I can fly on my own!”
“You can glide. That’s not flying, that’s falling with style.”
Kara noticed the ground was dwindling beneath her. She clung to Kal-El’s thick arm with her thin ones. “Don’t drop me!”
“I would never.”
Clark concentrated hard. Some scientists had theorized that he had a kind of tactile telekinesis. If he caught an airplane, a subconscious field of psychic energy kept it together instead of fracturing. Clark didn’t know about that, but he did know that when he really thought about it, he found it easy to lift things with limited leverage, or make them almost float beside him, even uncork champagne bottles with a single touch. It was almost like he could slide someone’s center of gravity around to make them easier to lift, stop them without snapping their arm out of a socket. Came in handy, although Bruce probably hated him a little for not caring how it worked so long as it worked.
Very gently he eased Kara up to fly beside him. Her free hand was still wrapped around his bicep as he took them over the cloud cover. Clark gently tapped on the knuckles of that hand, then flung his arm out wide. Reluctantly, Kara followed his lead. Connected only by Superman’s outstretched arm, they flew.
“I heard you’d been going a little stir-crazy,” Clark said.
Kara cocked her head to one side.
“You know… cabin fever?”
Kara cocked her head to the other side.
“You’re bored.”
“So you’re taking me to Metropolis? To help with your mission?” Kara’s voice had already lifted with excitement.
“First off, I don’t really have a mission in the way you’re implying. I’m not trying to turn Earth into New Krypton.”
“Pity. They could use it. Do you know they still grow food in the dirt?”
“I might’ve overheard something of that nature.” Clark saw Kara wasn’t amused. “It’s fine. They clean it.”
“But dirt is so… dirty!”
“You know, they play in it sometimes.”
“Ewww!”
“Walk barefoot in it, throw it at each other when it’s wet…”
“Disgusting!”
“It’s fun.”
“To you, maybe.”
“There’s an old saying on Earth: Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
“I don’t need a Thanagarian Snare Beast’s ovipositor rammed down my throat to know I wouldn’t like it.”
Clark pointed to a strata of dark clouds on the horizon. “See that electrical storm?”
Kara had sensed, by both word and direction, that they weren’t going to Metropolis. “It crossed my notice,” she said poutily.
“Do you think it’d be fun to fly through?”
“Of course not! There are high-speed winds, hyper-electrical discharges, uncontrolled precipitation – another of this world’s technological deficits—“
Clark merely smiled. “Hang on,” he advised.
They plunged into the storm. Kara was buffeted, soaked, shocked, but it was all worth it for the moment Kal tossed her into an updraft, letting the wind unshackle her from gravity before he caught her and carried her out of the storm, saying “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”
The storm had been violent, primal, nothing at all like the carefully planned showers of Krypton. But Kal was right. She had enjoyed it.
“Kal… Clark, I need to talk to you about something.”
“We’ll talk at the Fortress,” Clark sung into her ear. “For now, enjoy the ride.”
They dried off with the friction of supersonic flight, quite warm as their speed cracked the icefields below. They were in the Arctic now. Kara knew from the polar bears and the way the magnetosphere funneled into a cusp. Kara had tired, and now she was snuggled against Superman, him cradling her to his chest, wrapped up in the warm embrace of his cape. If she’d known they were headed for the North Pole, she would’ve dressed in longer pants.
“This is a very special place to me,” Clark said. “Some days, it felt like the closest thing I had to a home. I hope you’ll come to see it that way too.”
“Will it help me get ready to aid you in your not-mission?”
“That’s the idea.”
The polar winds sliced into them. Kara pulled the cape tighter around her dainty shoulders. Above, the aurora borealis flared and rolled. Kara tensed as they flew through it, but the weird energy just tickled her skin. She huddled closer to Kal-El. Then she heard it. The clear, virtuoso hum of crystals at work. Scouring the horizon, she saw it.
At first Kara thought it was a mountain, then she extended her vision as Kal had taught her and saw it more clearly. It was a palace of bygone Krypton! “Is that the place?”
“Well, it’s not Santa Claus’s workshop.”
Judging from his vocal inflection, Kara decided this was a joke and no individual by the name of Santa Claus possessed Kryptonian technology.
As they approached, Kal’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?” Kara asked.
“Looks like tracks in the snow. And the ice on the surface of the water only formed recently.”
“So someone’s been here!”
“Probably just some explorers who got turned around. The security system will have set them straight. Still, I’d better check the Fortress’s surveillance logs.”
“Fortress?”
“I used to have this treehouse my dad… Jonathan Kent, I mean… called it my Fortress of Solitude. I thought it sounded cool. Still do, truthfully. Jor-El sent a crystal seed with me in the life capsule. It grew this place for me.”
“To what end?”
Clark landed. Kara gave him his cape back; he re-secured it with a sweep.
“Jor-El downloaded his consciousness into the crystals to serve as a mentor for me. But the energy banks were depleted. Now it’s nothing more than a database.” Clark lowered his eyes, voice falling too. “A pocket calculator.”
“Kryptonian energy banks can last for millennia. What could have-”
“A mistake.”
Clark prodded open the 200-foot-tall door. It fell off its multi-ton hinges, toppling like a demolished skyscraper. It hit the ground with such force that the crystal it was made out of shattered and the ground where it hit cracked open. Clark watched in shock as the diamond dust settled.
“Kal…”
“I know,” Clark said through suddenly clenched teeth. He took off, flying through the Fortress at top speed. His passage stirred up the detritus of unwelcome guests, candy wrappers and wadded-up tissues Maybe it was Kryptonian ESP, maybe it was just a reporter’s instincts, but he could see every degradation the intruders had inflicted on Krypton’s legacy. Entire sections of the beautiful living crystal had been amputated and crated off. Graffiti had been spray-painted on the translucent walls, tainting the panoramic view. He cataloged every insult, every desecration, flying so fast he became a living Möbius strip.
The more agitated he became, the more aloof Kara was. She calmly toed a door fragment that came up to her waist. “Given human strength – or lack thereof – they’d need mechanized assistance to remove the door, plus a jamming device to interrupt the energy field reinforcing it… the ability to build the jamming device, requiring an eighth-level intellect…”
“Stop talking, I know who did this.”
Superman had come to a stop, hovering over the Fortress’s central atrium. He was trembling with rage, cape fluttering membrane-like with each quake. Like a twitchy animal. Before him, the cradle where all that remained of his father had rested in a crystal tomb. Now all it held was a set of neatly chiseled block letters reading “Lex Luthor was here.” As if stricken, Superman touched down, gently rattling the entire Fortress.
“Clark, I know this is a bad time… but I need to know about Zod.”
“Zod?” Superman reached out to touch the writing. “I took care of Zod. He’s in the Phantom Zone.”
Kara gulped. “But he… I mean… how could you?”
“He was a psychopath. He tried to take over Krypton.” Calm down. Stay cool. See if Lex left any traps, see if he took anything.
“No, you’re wrong! You’re lying!”
Superman whirled on her. “Zod was a lunatic and a monster! He subjugated Earth!”
“Can you blame him? These people, they keep killing and killing and they never stop! I can hear them! They’re crying out for a firm hand, someone to save them from themselves.”
“No, that’s—I don’t have time for this.” Luthor. He had to find Luthor.
“Didn’t you ever ask why he tried to lead a coup on Krypton?”
“I don’t care. He was power-mad, evil…”
“It was your father!”
Superman froze, as still as the crystal that surrounded him.
Kara sneered nastily. “Jor-El told Zod that Krypton would be destroyed. The General knew that the Science Council would dither and waste time, so he took matters into his own hands. Just like you do.” She began prodding him in the chest. “He was trying to save the world! If your beloved father hadn’t betrayed him, our family would still be alive!”
Superman grabbed her hand. “You’re wrong!”
“It’s right there in the crystals. Or has Jor-El been lying to you to cover his shame? I was there. He didn’t care about Krypton, so long as you survived. He was a coward who condemned home to—“ Her voice cracked. “All I ever wanted… Kal…”
Superman turned slowly to the open space where his father’s hologram had once been a constant fixture, the sun around which his world spun. It was dead. Empty.
Clark had been in this position before. After he gave up his powers and went against Jor-El’s wishes, the AI had fallen silent for what had seemed like an eternity before sacrificing itself… himself for Kal-El. Then, he’d had no one to blame but himself. Now, though…
His fists tightened like suns collapsing into neutron stars. His body broke the sound barrier almost before he left the ground, then he crashed through the ceiling. Kara watched him go, for the first time not really wanting to be with him.
***
Kitty Kowalski had been blessed with good looks, and not much else. She was canny without being smart, pretty without being beautiful, and cursed with a knack for attracting the wrong sort of man. Which Gotham City, her hometown, provided in spades. Following a string of bad luck, shed had a run of good. A job in the Wayne Enterprises mailroom, a reasonably good-looking (and nice) boss to flirt with, and her super finally got around to fixing the cable reception. She attributed this to going by Kitty instead of Katherine. Kitty was so much more approachable.
Then, one of the smaller-scale Luthor-Wayne pissing matches took place. Lex had been touring an office building that he was considering buying when he spotted her. She’d been nobody in particular, and her anonymity appealed to him. It vexed both the press and other, more high-profile lovers for him to date her.
For six months he showered her with gifts and attention, then abruptly tired of her and “demoted” Kitty to the receptionist of Lex Tower. She probably should’ve expected as much from a relationship that she’d had to sign a non-disclosure agreement to enter into. Still, receptionist had perks. It was kind of like being the public face of Lexcorp. And she did get to meet Superman.
He was just standing there in the lobby, arms crossed, with an expression that showed he would brook no fools. Everyone else in the room wisely refrained from autograph-seeking or photography. Kitty pressed the silent alarm that was supposed to summon that creepy Mr. Corben, but no one came. And in remarkably short order, the line waiting to petition Lexcorp dwindled away. Superman stepped up to the front desk, setting his palms flat against the desktops so gently that the wood creaked.
“Where’s. Luthor?”
Somewhere through the haze of her intimidation, Kitty managed to recall her employee handbook. “Mr. Luthor isn’t in right now. If you leave your name, contact information, and business, Mr. Luthor may attempt to contact you for an appointment.”
“’Mr. Luthor’ has something that belongs to me.”
“For any criminal allegations against Mr. Luthor, I am to refer you to the Lexcorp legal department.”
“I x-rayed this entire building. I don’t think he’s in one of the lead-lined areas, but I’d rather not tear this building apart to find out.”
Kitty gulped dry. “Lex isn’t here. He left on a business trip.”
“That’s easy enough to verify. I memorized Luthor’s heartbeat a long time ago.”
He took a deep breath, as if calming himself, then closed his eyes. The lobby, already reduced to hushed voices, completely shut up. Although, realistically, they could’ve been banging pots and pans next to his head and it wouldn’t have mattered. A few moments passed, in which Kitty became staggeringly aware of how loud her own heartbeat was. Then Superman cocked his head to one side in confusion, shook his head as if to clear it, and opened his eyes.
“I can’t hear him,” Superman said, his face clouded over with something Kitty couldn’t quite put her finger on. “I can’t hear him anywhere.”
“Would you like to leave a message?” Kitty asked hopefully.
Superman looked directly at her, his face setting with old rage. “Yes, I would.” He whirled around, facing the giant steel statue of Lex that dominated the lobby. Heat lashed out of his eyes, first in distorted waves – they just started to burn the statue – then in concentrated red lasers that penetrated into it, making the steel glow red as it bubbled and ran like an ice sculpture in a sauna. For an entire minute, Superman’s expression never changed and the energy never stopped pouring out of his eyes. Finally, the statue was a pool of molten metal, dripping off its former pedestal. The tide of slag washed over the plaque identifying the thankful charity that had ostensibly commissioned the statue.
“Tell Luthor that the next time I see him, I’m molding that into his prison bars.”
no subject
Date: 2008-09-23 10:38 pm (UTC)