Previously...



He marched them through the underground complex. Clark tried to keep up with the twists and turns, but his mind was racing too fast to be able to concentrate much. He was too busy trying think of some way to get Lois out of this mess, even if he couldn't get himself out. True, Lois was Superman's closest friend in the short time the hero had been around, but there was nothing she could tell Trask. She knew nothing of any real value to offer the man, but Clark was terrified that Trask was insane enough to hurt her anyway - either because he didn't believe her innocence, or in a twisted attempt to draw Superman in for whatever nefarious purpose he had.

Lois.

He had to save her.

It was all his fault she was a part of their current situation. It was his duty to get her safely out of Trask's reach. He loved her too much to even think about what would happen if Lois got hurt or killed in Trask's deranged attempt to get to Superman.

"Down this hall," Braxton said after a while.

"Over my dead body," Lois shot back, shoving the man in a vain attempt to get free.

Braxton grabbed Lois and threw her violently against the opposite wall. Clark heard the air whoosh out of her lungs. Braxton raised his gun.

"Trask needs you alive, but he never stated what condition of 'alive' you have to be in," Braxton said as he took aim.

"Don't," Clark said, fear in his voice, his hands before him as if they alone could form a shield that could protect Lois. They could, of course, but neither Lois nor Braxton knew that. He stepped before her, acting as a shield, no longer concerned for his own safety or that of his secret. "Put the gun down."

"Clark, what are you doing?" Lois asked, her own fear rising as Clark stepped directly in front of her.

Clark ignored her and kept his eyes on the man before him. "You don't want to do this."

As if in response, Braxton fired his weapon. The bullet bounced harmlessly off Clark as he shifted his body to further block Lois. The man looked at him in surprise. But the look of shock on his face swiftly turned into a scowl.

"Son of a..." he swore at Clark while slipping a different sidearm from his belt. "You're one of them alien freaks too!"

Clark heard Lois' gasp as he dove for the man's weapon. But Braxton got one shot off. That was all it took. Clark cried out as the bullet tore through his flesh, searing it with an inferno of pain like he'd never imagined possible. The shock of the wound ripped through his body along with the unexpected lance of agony. He hit the floor hard and tried to cradle his injured shoulder. Blood pumped out through the ragged hole in his flesh and he tried to stem the flow of it, only to jerk his hand back as a fresh stab of lightning skewered his body.

"Clark!"

Through a fog of pain, where time seemed to stand still and the world faded away to nothing but the bullet hole in his torso, he heard Lois screaming.

He tried to reassure her, but his tongue felt leaden. His entire being felt like the life was pouring out of his body, faster than his blood could spill. The world around him grew dim around the edges before becoming mere pinpricks of harsh fluorescent lighting. Breathing hurt. Thinking was torture. Closing his eyes against the pain brought fresh agony.

So, this is what pain is like.

It was more of a concept in his mind - a single, glaring thought - than anything he consciously thought.

At least Lois wasn't hit.

Again, it wasn't so much a conscious thought as a searing moment of knowledge.

"Clark? Oh, God! What did you do to him?"

"Lo..." was all he managed to get out.

He was dimly aware of Braxton grabbing Lois and shoving her through the closest cell door. He thought he may have seen another person in that same cell, but his vision was too poor by then to know for sure.

"Clark! Hold on! I'll figure something out!" Lois called as Braxton grabbed him under the armpits and began dragging him down the hall.

Finally, darkness took him and he knew no more.


***


Inside the now cramped little cell, Jor-El watched the human woman as she fretted over her friend's departure. Oh, but how he hated sharing his prison cell with such a creature! Humans had been nothing but trouble and a source of heartache over the years. How long had it been? Twenty years? Thirty? Too long. Too long being stuck on this miserable, unworthy little rock of a planet. Too long being at the mercy of the pathetic little life-forms that populated this rough, unrefined world.

"What are they doing to him?" Lois wondered aloud for the hundred time as she paced the small, single room cell she'd been roughly shoved into.

Jor-El declined to answer. He'd already tried to calm her down and been unsuccessful - an action that had been more for his benefit than for hers, as he'd grown weary of her incessant babbling. The fact was, as much as he could try to reassure the young woman before him, his own mind was a wreck with worry for the young man. A young man who, like Jor-El, seemed to be impervious to ordinary bullets. A young man who, like Jor-El, had been helpless against the special guns and green bullets all of the members of Bureau Thirty-Nine kept on them at all times.

His son.

It had to be.

Kal.

Still alive after all these years, and grown into a handsome young man. A man who Jor-El could see himself in. A man who reflected the best parts of Lara.

"Come on, come on," Lois muttered under her breath, her foot tapping impatiently as she leaned against the door, straining for a glimpse or telltale sound that would show her that Clark was still alive. She whirled on Jor-El. "Why isn't he back yet?"

"How should I know?" Jor-El replied, a little more harshly than he'd intended. God, this Earth-woman was already grating on his last nerve!

"You seem to know these people," Lois shot back.

"Yes, unfortunately I do," Jor-El spit out. "But open your eyes, woman! If you think these people are friends of mine, you're sorely mistaken. I'm no less their prisoner than you are."

That appeared to give her pause. She looked around, sighed, then dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor. She sighed heavily a second time, leaning against the cold cinderblock wall.

"I guess you're right. I'm sorry. I'm just so worried about Clark," she said after a few minutes.

"I am too," Jor-El finally admitted with a sigh.

Lois gave him a funny look. "You? Why?"

"I just...am. You're right about one thing - I know these people. I've been their prisoner for...I'm not even sure how long anymore. The days and years all blend together nowadays." He kept his answer purposefully evasive. How could he possibly trust an Earthling with the suspicion that her friend was his son? Although, she had to realize that her friend was no mere human.

"Why you?" Lois asked, seemingly more to herself than to Jor-El. "They want us to get to Superman...but why keep you here?"

Jor-El opted to ignore the question. How could he possibly explain it, even if he wanted to tell this annoying young woman his story?

"Move it, alien scum!" came the gruff voice of a man.

Lois got up with lightning speed and went to the cell door, peering out between the bars of cold steel. Jor-El rose from his seat on the rough cot as well. He could just see as Lionel Watson came around the corner, shoving a worn and sick looking Clark before him. Jor-El could see the heavy shackles on Clark's wrists and ankles, which made the young man shuffle clumsily. But that wasn't the only reason why Clark seemed to be having trouble even standing. Jor-El knew only too well that any member of the Bureau who was having direct contact with a prisoner they suspected of being Kryptonian - so far, the only ones being Jor-El and now his son - always carried a piece of glowing green stone on them, as a precaution.

Proximity to the stone and the exertion of walking was killing Kal.

"Watson!" Jor-El called out, pleading. "Put it away, please! He can't harm you! You know that!"

"Shut up," came the growled response. "Move it, alien!" he said again, directing a kick at the back of Clark's knees.

Clark stumbled and fell. Even Lois could see that his skin was ashen and his breathing labored, and Jor-El heard the sharp intake of her breath as Clark fell. A sheen of sweat shone on Clark's brow and his eyes were full of pain. He grunted as he made contact with the floor. A cough escaped him. Watson rolled his eyes and grabbed Clark by the elbow, jerking him roughly to his feet. It was only by sheer luck that Clark's shoulder didn't dislocate in the process. Clark stood for a moment, unsteadily, looking for all the world like he was about to pass out. Then he bravely started to move, his eyes fixed on Lois, as though she was the only thing in the world that existed.

"Come on, Clark," Lois called to him in an encouraging voice. "You can make it." Shooting a dagger-look at Watson, she swore at him. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but I promise you, you're going to pay for whatever it is that you did to my friend."

Clark weakly shook his head at her, as if to discourage her, but the scowl on Lois' face never left.

"Watson! Put it away! He can't hurt you," Jor-El called out again. His voice cracked through his own Kryptonite sickness. "You're killing him!"

"Quiet! Or I'll give you a dose of it too," Watson vowed.

Agonizing moments passed until Clark finally reached the cell. Jor-El instinctively put a hand to Lois' shoulder, gently urging her back. He didn't care if Watson struck her, as he was prone to do to those too slow or stupid to get out of his way. All he wanted was access to the son he'd lost a lifetime ago.

"Put him in here, please," Jor-El requested, realizing that it sounded like the plea that it was and feeling beads of sweat sprouting on his brow as the Kryptonite came closer.

"What's it to you, freak?" Watson asked.

"Nothing," Jor-El lied. "But, let's face it, I'm familiar with the sickness he's got," he added vaguely. "I doubt Trask wants him dead or he wouldn't be here now."

"Fine. It's all the same to me if you all rot together or alone." He shrugged and addressed Clark. "Get in," Watson said, unlocking the shackles that had weighed Clark down. "The boss is going to want to talk to you later. All of you. Enjoy your stay," he sneered, delivering a savage blow to Clark's back.

"Clark!" Lois called out, horrified.

Clark lost his balance and pitched forward. Before Lois could react, Jor-El was there, his arms ready to receive his son, just as they had on the night the boy had been born, back in another world, light-years away. Clark loosed a soft cry as he collided with the older man, a cry that was muffled by the other's shirt. Watson only watched for a moment before shutting the cell door again. The lock closed with a harsh clang, followed by the click of Watson's boot heels on the tile floor as he retreated back to his other duties.

"Here," Jor-El soothed Clark, as he helped him onto the bed, ignoring his own Kryptonite sickness and weakness.

Clark didn't reply. He only curled into a fetal position, too hurt and sick to do anything else.

"Clark," Lois said, her voice cracking with withheld panic. "Oh, God. What did they do to you?"

She climbed up onto the bed next to him, pushing past Jor-El, despite an attempt by Jor-El to get her to back up. Gently, she sat down, crossed her legs, and coaxed Clark's head into her lap. She stroked his hair, feeling the dampness there from his sweat and the feverishness of his brow. When he didn't protest, she looked down at his bare chest, where he'd been hit by the bullet. A large, sloppily placed bandage was there.

"What did they do?" she asked again.

"Took...bullet...stitched..." he managed weakly, against the residual pain in his body.

Lois let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God," she murmured. "I was so worried about you."

Clark managed a weak smile. "Take...more than...that to...get rid of me."

"I was worried as well," Jor-El said, stepping forward, already recovered from his brief exposure to the poisonous meteorite. "How are you feeling?"

"Who are you?" Clark asked, small amount of his energy returning, now that Watson and that accursed green rock were gone.

"My name is Jor-El," he said. "And, unless I'm mistaken, you are Kal-El. My son."

Clark knew that felt Lois felt his body stiffen slightly at the mention of his name - a name his parents had told him his mother had called him. But all he could do was nod. After all, as he saw it, his cover was already blown and he didn't have the energy yet to even begin to pretend that he was anything more than simply just Clark Kent.

"Yes," he whispered, awestruck by the fact that he was meeting his biological father - a man he'd long ago presumed to be dead.

"Clark?" Lois asked. He could hear confusion and anger in her voice as the truth began to dawn on her. "I know you're hurt right now. But what are you saying?"

"Lois, I'm sorry. I never meant to lie to you," he began, trying to push himself up to look at her, but failing as his arms turned to mush. "The truth is, I am Clark Kent. But that's not the name I was given at birth. My name...the one my birth parents gave me...is Kal-El."

"Kal-El?" she asked. "But Superman's name is..." She cut herself off sharply. "You!" she exclaimed, righteous anger tainting her voice as she pulled away from him. "You're Superman?! All this time and you've been lying to me!" He could see her fighting the urge to slap him.

At least she had the decency to hiss out her words in a lowered tone, he mused darkly. Not that it mattered. Word had probably already spread through Bureau Thirty-Nine's compound.

"I had to! When I decided to become Superman, I knew that no one could ever find out that the untouchable hero was nothing more than a farm boy reporter in a ridiculous costume. My life depended on it. So did the lives of everyone I care about. You. Jimmy. Perry. My parents. Especially my parents. I knew Superman would make a lot of enemies, and that anyone associated with him would become a target. I'm sorry, Lois. I thought what I did was for the best. I wanted so much to protect you." He was proud that managed it to say it all with only minimal pauses to catch his breath with his still aching lungs.

"You could have told me!" she replied back, still furious. "Did you think I was going to run to print the story of how Clark Kent and Superman are the same person? Did you think so little of me? How could you lie to me, every day?"

"I think the world of you, Lois," he said in a soft tone. "You have to know that by now. You're my best friend and the woman I've fallen in love with. I can't imagine my life without you in it. I've wanted to tell you. I just...how could I? You don't just order a pizza and casually mention 'Oh, by the way, I'm an alien and masquerade as Superman in my spare time' while you slip a movie into the VCR."

"So you thought it was better to keep me in the dark? That it was okay to keep something this huge from me?" Her anger now held a healthy amount of hurt in it. He could see unshed tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to fall at any moment, and it broke his heart.

"Of course not," he said, his voice going even softer somehow. "I knew I had to tell you, if I had any chance to trying to make a life with you. But I was afraid. Afraid that the idea of being with an alien would turn you away. Afraid that you'd only want to continue being with me because of my powers. Lois, no one in the world knows about me, except for my folks. Telling anyone, even you, or maybe even especially you, is terrifying on a primal level. It makes me vulnerable in a way that I can't even describe."

Lois didn't answer right away, appearing to think over what he'd said, while Jor-El remained respectfully silent, watching the exchange. Finally, she nodded firmly, as if shoving aside her anger and hurt. "Okay," she said. "Right now, we need to focus on getting out of here."

"How?" Clark asked, leaning against the wall, finally able to push himself up to sit. He fought down a lingering bout of nausea before continuing.

"How? You're Superman," Lois said, as if it was the most obvious thing in all the world. "You bend the bars or melt them with your eyes or something." She gestured to the bars which imprisoned them.

"I...can't," Clark replied, hanging his head in shame.

"What do you mean? Of course you can. I've seen you do it numerous times already," she argued. "And these people," she said, spitting the word out as though annoyed to have to acknowledge the members of Bureau Thirty-Nine as human beings, "seem to already know about your secret. So there's nothing to hide, right?"

"I mean...I can't." Clark tried to will her to see how serious he was. "Whatever they shot me with...my powers are gone, Lois."

"Gone? Gone? What do you mean, gone?" she asked, her voice pitching higher in her panic.

"I mean, right now, I'm nothing more than a regular guy, Lois. Believe me, I've been trying. I can't fly, I have no heat vision, I can barely even sit up on my own," he tried to explain. "I've never been this weak before in my entire life. I don't understand it." He looked to Jor-El for an explanation. "What did they do to me?"

"Kryptonite," the other man replied. "Fragments of our home world, Krypton. I believe they became radioactive when our planet exploded. Some must have been pulled along in the wake of our ship as we escaped the planet's demise. All I'm sure of is that it makes us sick. I believe, given enough exposure to it, it can kill us. All it takes is being in the same proximity of the rock. They don't even need to shoot us, though they all carry bullets made of the stuff, as a precaution. That's what they shot you with." He moved forward to sit on the edge of the cot, though the movement was deliberate, as if gauging how close Clark would allow him.

Krypton.

For the first time in his life, Clark had a name for the place where he'd been born.

"You didn't seem to be affected," Lois observed. "If they all carry the stuff like you say, and if you're like Clark..."

"Kryptonian," Jor-El cut in.

"Right. Kryptonian. If you and Clark are both...Kryptonian...then shouldn't you have been suffering too?"

"I was," Jor-El said, barely sparing a glance in her direction. "But, over the years, my recovery time has improved. In the beginning, I, like Kal, took much longer before the sickness wore off." He dared to touch Clark's arm, hesitating as if he feared Clark would melt away into mist at the slightest contact. "How are you feeling, my son?"

Clark fought the knee-jerk reaction to flinch at the phrase "my son." He'd dreamed all his life what it would be like to meet the people who'd given him life, but to hear a stranger call him "son" felt wrong on every level. Jonathan and Martha Kent were his parents. They were the ones who'd always referred to him as their son.

"A little better," Clark replied. "Weak, but at least the pain is gone."

Jor-El nodded. "Good."

"How long can I expect my powers to be gone?" Clark asked, eyeing the bars of their prison again.

He didn't want to broach more private matters at the moment. He didn't want to deal with his conflicting emotions yet - the curiosity he had over who this man was, the awkwardness of their non-existent relationship, the need to know why Jor-El had left his mother to die in the Kents' living room, the need to know why he'd never come to claim his son.

Jor-El tried to hide the fact that he was crushed over Clark's determination to stick to impersonal topics. But Clark saw the fleeting look of hurt that crossed his features anyway. A stab of guilt tore through his heart, but he knew that, if they got away from Bureau Thirty-Nine, they could both find time to ask all the questions he knew they both had to have. In the privacy of his own apartment, he could sort through his feelings and get to know the man whose DNA he shared.

Jor-El shook his head reluctantly. "They won't."

Clark's face fell along with his heart. His powers were a part of him. Without them, he felt like the shell of a man. How could that part of himself just be gone?

"What?" he asked in a whisper, the word sticking in his throat.

"Without sunlight, they won't come back," Jor-El clarified. "I learned that long ago. So did the Bureau. Which is why I've been caged down here, a long way from the yellow sun of this world for too many years to count."

"How?" Lois asked. She'd yet to vacate her seat at the head of the cot. "How did they know?"

Jor-El sighed. "It's a long story."

"Please. It's important," Clark pressed.

"I should start at the beginning. You need to understand everything, Kal."

"Clark," he gently corrected. "I'm sorry. I know I'm Kal to you, but I've always gone by Clark." He almost regretted his words as he saw Jor-El's saddened expression, but it was enough for Clark to keep track of two identities from day to day. He couldn't handle a third right now.

"Clark," Jor-El obliged. "When you were born, our planet, Krypton, was on the threshold of death. Your mother and I escaped with you with only moments to spare. There had been another ship - a floating palace - filled with other refugees, but before we could board, your mother, Lara, went into labor and the palace left. I believe they must have gotten spooked by one of the larger quakes and made a snap decision to leave before they had scheduled to depart. We took our own ship and planned on meeting up with the others, but we were unable to contact them to coordinate a rendezvous. Our ship wound up taking damage as we searched for the palace and we had to make an emergency landing, here on Earth. Lara and I were injured - she worse than I. We were pursued - the Bureau had somehow witnessed our crash landing. I drew them away from her and you, hoping to double back once I'd shaken off our pursuers. That was the last time I ever saw or heard from her. Our telepathic connection was severed that very night. You were too young for me to link to you. The ability doesn't manifest until the onset of puberty, and besides, these walls are shielded, preventing anyone from using telepathy anyway...a stolen technology from another race, believe me. In any case, I had to assume the worst."

"She died," Clark confirmed for him. "My parents always told me that they did what they could for her, when she showed up on their doorstep. Even the doctor they called to the house couldn't do anything for her. She was too badly injured. When she died, they said that she...vanished, making them suspect that there was something...different about the two of us. I'm so sorry."

Jor-El nodded as a look of fresh grief washed over his features. Clark could imagine how heartbreaking it would be to have his worst fears confirmed, even after so many years.

"I had prayed that I was wrong," he sighed. "Not too long after I left you and your mother at some small farmhouse, the Bureau caught up with me and I was captured," he continued. "I was knocked out and eventually brought here, to this facility. At first, things weren't too bad. I was treated well enough. My injuries were tended. I was given food and shelter. But it quickly became apparent that the sunlight gave me abilities beyond reason. It made them fear me. At least, it did until it was discovered that Kryptonite robbed me of my abilities and acted as a poison, so long as I was exposed to it in some way. I was kept indoors during the day, and allowed outside only once all traces of sunlight were gone."

He sighed, his eyes seeming to see the ghosts of the past rather that his immediate surroundings.

"At first, I didn't mind as much as I probably should have. I understood their concerns. The powers were frightening even to me. I didn't blame them for being afraid of what I could do...intentionally or not." He sighed again. "You must understand, Kal...Clark. The Bureau was not always the evil organization it now is. In the beginning, they seemed to have noble intentions. I freely shared my knowledge with them, hoping to better this planet. After all, I was a scientist, back on Krypton, and have always been at ease creating things. Much of your technology today is crude imitations of what we had on Krypton. Your internet, your cell phones, your fax machines, even your CDs. It's all based on technology we once had on Krypton. Ancient technology, to be sure, but cutting edge for this young planet."

"Hey, now wait just a minute..." Lois started to protest angrily.

Jor-El gave her a hard look. "Your species is young. Very young, compared to much of the universe. Krypton had developed artificial intelligence while Earthlings were building the pyramids. We were exploring space while your people were learning how to make fire. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Earthlings simply haven't been around long enough to develop the technology other planets do."

"Other planets? You mean, more than just Earth and Krypton?" Lois asked.

Jor-El nodded. "It's an infinitely large universe. Did you think you were the only planet with intelligent life?" he asked, somewhat bitingly.

"Of course not," Lois shot back. "I was just curious, that's all. There's always been speculation, but never any proof. At least, until Superman started flying around."

"How many?" Clark asked, like Lois, too curious to resist asking.

"We don't really know for certain," Jor-El said, shaking his head a little. "Hundreds of thousands. Millions. New ones were being discovered all the time - either accidentally or through deliberate attempts at making contact with new places." He shrugged. "A few men and women from other places have been captured by the Bureau during my time here. I'm the only one who still lives."


Clark felt his fist tighten in anger. "Others?"

Lois looked horrified. "Only one...? You mean, they've killed them?"

"Some, yes. Others were either too unsuited to this planet's atmosphere to survive long or too injured from their own crash landings to live."

"And now? Are there others here now?" Lois asked, her concern rising to match Clark's.

"No. The last was a woman from Oa, maybe a good six months or so ago. It's hard to tell down here in this windowless hell. Bex, was her name."

"Oa?" Clark asked, the word completely foreign to him.

Jor-El nodded. "A small planet not far from Earth, relatively speaking, that is. It's used primarily as a meeting place for the Lantern Corps, a sort of interstellar peace-keeping group. But, like I said, Bex died a while back. She was here only a day or two." He pointed to the empty cell across the way. "We spoke only briefly. Her ship had crashed and her injuries were grievous. I was surprised she lived for as long as she did. There was Zokila, from Ujinka. She was here maybe a week. Pren, from Quahth. He was shot by Trask only hours after arriving here. The shielding I spoke of? To block telepathy? Stolen technology from the planet Markilth, some years before Lara and I ever crash landed here. It's been rumored around here that the Roswell incident left survivors aboard the crashed space craft but that the Bureau refused them medical assistance and dissected the bodies once they had died."

"So, you're the only one left," Lois said, as though speaking her private thoughts aloud. "Why? What's the Bureau's angle? Bait for Superman? Dangle the idea of another Kryptonian in front of him and see if they can draw him to him? But wouldn't they have done it sooner? And why keep you alive for so long when Superman only entered the scene a couple of months ago? How could they have even known?"

"A presidential order protects my life," Jor-El explained, keeping his eyes focused on Clark. "I am alive for no other reason than the fact that no one has been brave enough yet to cross that line."

"Why would the White House care if you lived or died?" Lois mused.

"As I said, the Bureau once had noble intentions, at least when I first was brought here, and my contributions, small as they were, to your technology were noticed. They were deemed important enough to ensure that I lived. I was too valuable to be allowed to die, though there were times when I wanted nothing more - when the grief over losing my wife and son was unbearable."

"You said they were once noble. What happened? When did they start feeling like it's their duty to eliminate alien life?" Clark asked, thinking back to his interrogation by Trask.

"I'm not sure how long it's been. A decade or more, certainly. Time runs into itself when all you know is the inside of a cell." Jor-El sighed. "When I first arrived, Stanley Robbins was the head of the Bureau. Things were good under him. I was treated like a colleague and friend. I was valued for my input. After he retired, Burton Newcomb took over. That's when I first felt like a true prisoner. Almost from the start, Jason Trask worked to undermine and edge out Newcomb. He finally succeeded and took over. Since that day, I've spent every day wishing he would finally violate that accursed presidential order just kill me." He broke eye contact with his son and looked at the floor instead. "What did I have to live for? My family was gone. Even if I could contact the mothership somehow, what could my fellow Kryptonians offer? And I would finally be free of Trask's deranged paranoia. His sometimes daily torment of me. His insane demands."

"He's a sicko," Lois agreed. "He thinks it's his job to kill you, Clark. He thinks you're some kind of scout for other Kryptonians, and that an invasion is inevitable unless he kills Superman. Or, at least, that's the impression that I got from our little 'discussion' earlier." She pulled her eyes from Clark to look at Jor-El. "What kinds of demands did he make of you?"

"Weapons, mostly. Things that could wipe out large numbers of people in seconds - people born of Earth or other planets, it didn't matter to him."

"A weapon like that in the hands of someone like him..." Lois visibly shuddered and Clark snaked an arm around her to pull her a little closer.

Jor-El nodded, just a slight dipping of his head. "I know. I refused. Krypton had such weapons, it's true. They were created as a last resort against some of the more warlike, barbaric alien races. Thankfully, we never needed them. But their creation cost us dearly. The resources we needed to build the weapons...it took its toll on our world. I believe, though I could never prove it, it's what caused our planet to become unstable." He paused for a moment. "As much as I've grown to hate this world, I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone. And," he added, "your world lacks the materials to build such weapons anyway."

"Let's be thankful for that," Clark muttered.

"Let me guess," Lois said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Trask didn't believe you."

"No, he didn't." There was an audible sigh.

Silence fell over the cramped cell. Clark decided to try standing, since he felt like he was a bit stronger. This time, when he put his feet on the floor, his muscles remained solid. He tentatively stretched, finding most of the pain in his body gone. His gunshot wound still ached, but he ignored it and paced to the bars. He gripped them as tightly as he could and tested his strength. They held fast and he was rewarded with a shooting pain where he'd been shot.

"I've got to figure a way out," he whispered to himself. "Their lives depend on it."



***



"Get up, alien scum!" Watson said, his gun raised and ready. "The boss wants to have a word with you."

Clark blinked rapidly, trying to banish the last shreds of sleep from himself. He got to his feet and moved to the bars. He gripped them hard, anticipating the poisonous assault of Kryptonite on his body. But none came, much to his relief.

"What's the matter? Trask can't do his own dirty work? He sends you to come get me?" Clark asked, his anger and fear adding an unintended harshness to his words.

"Trask?" Watson chuckled. "You aren't seeing him right now. You're seeing the boss. And you're not going anywhere."

"Who is this 'boss?'" Clark asked.

"Me."

A chill ran down Clark's spine at the voice. It was one he knew. One he hadn't heard for many long years. One he'd counted himself lucky for having put firmly in his past. And yet, by some cruel twist of fate, here it was again. Here she was.

"Lana," he breathed. "What...?"



To Be Continued...


Battle On,
Deadly Chakram

"Being with you is stronger than me alone." ~ Clark Kent

"One little spark of inspiration is at the heart of all creation." ~ Figment the Dragon