"You see this in my hand?"

Trask stood in front of him in a hefty black ops uniform. In the strange light, he looked like a floating, ghostly head with two hands drifting along side. The fire glanced off his irises and made his eyes appear incandescent. He was clutching a small, blinking device in his hands, and he seemed unaware of the destruction and chaos surrounding them.

"What are you doing here?" Clark choked. He hadn't seen Trask since the day his parents died, but he would never forget his face. Not then, and certainly not after tonight.

More screaming clawed at him and rent him from the inside out. Some of them were kids. Crying for their parents.

Trask grinned. "I'm teaching you a lesson. I can see from the look on your face you hear them. Save them, and I keep killing. I have twenty-five more buildings rigged to go off as we speak, and I'd say you look about ready to collapse as
it is. I guess there are limits to how super you really are. How many have we gone through today? Twelve?"

"What are you doing here?" Clark choked. He hadn't seen Trask since the day his parents died, but he would never forget his face. Not then, and certainly not after tonight.

The collapse wreaked devastation on Clark's tortured eardrums. Some of the screaming stopped, but he was far from grateful.