(Be warned - this chapter mildly depicts Clark getting tortured.)
~~~~~ Superman ~~~~~~
A wicked smile touched General Zod's features. He paused a moment. Clark suspected that he had sent a message to Jen Mai, for after a minute, the Elder appeared. He had a box with him. Clark watched with growing fear as Jen Mai opened the cell door, entered, shut the door behind, and opened the box. General Zod took a moment to fasten Clark's shackles to a ring on the wall, leaving Clark to face the gray stone. Clark tried to throw a glance over his shoulder, but the angle was wrong and he could see nothing behind him. The General rooted around in the box for a moment.
Clark heard the crack of a whip a fraction of a second before he felt the stinging pain as it connected with his body. He screamed as it peeled away strips of his flesh. Lord Nor laughed his approval.
No, not a whip exactly. More like a cat of nine tails of some sort, his mind relayed to him even as his scream broke off.
Five points of searing pain rocked his body. He could feel the pain spreading like fire across his back. He could feel the warm, sticky blood oozing from the stripes. Again pain bloomed over his back as the General brought the instrument into action. This time, Clark was ready. He grit his teeth and set his jaw against the pain. He did not want to scream. He refused to allow Nor his amusement.
Snap! Crack! Snap! Crack! Snap! Crack!
Clark lost count of the lashes he received. His entire body was tense against the blows. He tried to force his thoughts to more pleasant things. He tried to picture Lois sitting by the fountain in Centennial Park when he'd proposed. He tried to picture the kiss he'd given her in the honeymoon suite of the Luxor. He tried to picture Lois in his arms on Spencer Spencer's tropical island. The pain erased all train of thought. Nothing was real but the pain.
After a while, Nor ordered the General to cease the abuse. Clark's chains were removed from the rings on the walls. A punch to his stomach easily crumpled him and he was left alone, naked and bleeding in the utter dark.
Clark lay, eyes closed, in a fetal position. His head was thick with the haze of lingering pain. The cold stone floor offered no relief. Silent tears flowed from his eyes. They were partly born of the agony he was in. Mostly, they were the result of the loss of Lois' ring. At last, the events and pain overwhelmed him. Darkness took him as he passed out.
He awoke, hours later, to Jen Mai outside of his cell. The Elder was bringing Clark his meager daily meal. Clark forced himself to sit up, the dried blood on his back making his skin taut and uncomfortable. He felt a couple of the scabs break with the movement. He ignored it and ate hungrily. Jen Mai pulled a chair over into the middle of the room and watched as he always did. Not that Clark ever took long to eat. Clark stuffed the last bite of bread into his mouth and washed it down with the last sip of warm water. He studied Jen Mai over the brim of the cup.
"Why, Jen Mai?" he asked softly, pleading in his eyes. He had to get the man to talk.
"Because you are unfit to rule."
"And Nor is? Jen Mai, I have to believe that you know better than that." He was taking a huge risk by talking to him. Clark knew that. But if he could only get the man to see reason, he might have a chance of surviving.
"Lord Nor will usher in a new age in which New Krypton will once again rise up in power."
"By killing his own people?" Clark's voice was soft but urgent. "There are only a thousand of us left alive. Less now, after his attacks, I suppose. Don't you see that he's destroying New Krypton?"
"And why would a child of Earth care?" Jen Mai looked bored of the conversation. "Besides, we don't need this planet to survive."
"Because the same Kryptonian blood flows in my veins, as it does in yours. I don't want to see our people decimated. A thousand isn't a large population as it is. And I don't like to see anyone suffer or die."
"Then renounce your title to Lord Nor."
Clark shook his head. "I can't do that. Nor will lead this world into oblivion." Jen Mai chuckled. "What do you get out of all of this?" Clark asked, trying a different approach. Silently, he was glad he'd interviewed so many close-lipped officials in his time. It gave him a slight edge.
"Anything I want. Wealth. Power. I will become the Chief Elder when Lord Nor disbands the Council."
"And how do you know that Nor will deliver on his promises?" Clark still held his voice at the same steady, low tones.
"He will keep his promises. Of that I am sure. Nice try though."
Jen Mai stood and took the tray away. He turned and was about to exit the room when Clark spoke again, in one last ditch effort to get Jen Mai to see the truth about Nor.
"Wait," Clark pleaded. Jen Mai stopped and turned towards him. "What did you mean before? When you said that you don't need this planet to survive."
A smile curved the corner's of the Elder's mouth. "When Lord Nor is crowned as our king, he will lead our people in the conquest of other planets."
"Conquest?"
Jen Mai nodded. "We will start with Earth. Lord Nor hears rumors that the yellow sun gives us powers beyond reason there. We will be unstoppable."
Clark gaped silently. "He's insane," he whispered.
Jen Mai fixed Clark with a cold stare. "That's enough out of you," he growled. "Another word and the General will be more than happy to relieve you of your tongue."
Clark sighed and brought his hands up in a gesture of pacification. Satisfied, the Elder turned away and went back out of the room, leaving the harsh lights on. Clark dropped his head into his chest and sighed again.
I've done all I can. I just hope it was enough. Enough to plant the seed of doubt in Jen Mai. Maybe there is enough goodness left in him. I've always believed that there is good in everyone. He snorted to himself. Is that really true though? Was there any goodness left in Luthor? Is there any goodness within Nor? Luthor was at least capable, perhaps, of loving someone. He proved it when he let me take Lois out of that crumbling subway tunnel. But Nor? Nor is truly evil incarnate. And so is General Zod. He shook his head. Come on Clark! This isn't helping anything. Stop brooding! Think!
Try as he might, no plan of action came to his mind. He yearned for even five minutes with his powers restored to him. Always before he had dreamed of life as a normal man. Always he wondered what it would be like, not having to exercise restraint every time he took a breath or touched something. Now, he realized what a blessing his powers had really been. He felt empty without them, like half of himself was missing. A new sense of bitterness washed over him. He hugged his knees to his chest and groaned at his situation, ignoring the sharp stabs of protest that his back sent out.
He passed another span of hours alone in his cell. He dozed lightly from time to time. Soon, Nor and General Zod returned. They entered his cell. This time, the General had a cruel set of brass knuckles adorning both of his hands.
"Have you changed your mind yet, Kal-El?" Nor asked, dangerously.
"Never," Clark said, mustering up every ounce of defiance that he had.
"You really are stupid you know." Nor glanced at General Zod. "Proceed."
General Zod pulled Clark up by his hair to stand. He chained the shackles to a ring in the wall above Clark's head. He cracked his knuckles and then swung his fist. The blow caught Clark square in the chest. Pieces of his flesh were ripped from him as the barbed metal points pulled away from his body. Clark stiffed the scream that rose in his throat. Another blow caught him in the stomach. More chunks of flesh were torn from him. Clark clenched his jaw as tightly as possible. He focused his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to lock eyes with Nor. He would not let the man see his pain. A grunt escaped him at a particularly savage blow over his right kidney. Tears brimmed in his eyes. Silently, he pleaded with them not to fall, but a traitorous few did anyway, matching the fat droplets of blood that oozed down his body.
How long the brutality lasted, Clark couldn't tell. Time ceased to exist. There was only white-hot, blinding pain. Eventually, Nor gave the order to stop. Clark was thrown to the floor and immediately sank into the blessed darkness of unconsciousness.
The cycle repeated itself day after day. Clark thought that it must be weeks now since the last communication with the Elders. Always Nor would accompany his General and watch in amusement at the abuse that Clark was receiving. Sometimes the odd cat of nine tails was employed. Sometimes the brass knuckles made an appearance. Occasionally, the General attacked him with a club-like weapon that reminded Clark a lot of a policeman's night stick. Each time, before the beatings started, he was offered the chance of surrendering his title and kingdom to Nor. Each time, Clark vehemently denied Nor what he sought.
He did not see Jen Mai after that initial talk. Sometimes, he idly wondered where the man was. Not that it mattered much, he supposed. He'd failed to talk any sense into him. The General now brought Clark his skimpy meals. He did not try to talk to the man.
Clark's body was crisscrossed in a grotesque spider webbing of wounds. His back was covered with lashes and gouges from the cat of nine tails. His chest and stomach were covered in long lines from the same instrument and were pockmarked with tiny craters where the brass knuckles had torn away his skin. Some of his wounds were beginning to scar over; the majority of them were as of yet unhealed. His skin was caked in dried blood and dirt. His thighs and arms were covered in yellow-purple bruises from the night stick. Several of his ribs were broken or cracked. Breathing was excruciating. His lips were split in three places. His eyes were puffy, bloodshot, and blackened. His nose was broken. He was now so skinny that he could count most of his bones. He was so weak that he could barely stand. Every second of every day was torture. Every sound that he heard put him into an instant panic and a cold sweat as he wondered if General Zod was coming to torture him.
Waking and sleeping blended into one continuous nightmare. Clark's thoughts grew dark. He began to wish for death. He could no longer picture Lois in his mind's eye. He could no longer hear even a ghost of her voice or a fading echo of her laugh. He could no longer recall the feel of her skin against his, taste her lips against his own. He could no longer recall the smell of her perfume. He felt dead inside, a shell of the man that he had been.
The door to his cell clanged open once more. He lifted his tired eyes just enough to see General Zod, Nor, and Jen Mai. He blinked stupidly at them with dead eyes. He didn't even register the fleeting look of horror in Jen Mai's eyes. He couldn't summon the energy to flinch away as General Zod stepped forward. He allowed himself to be dragged out of the cell. He crumpled to the floor in front of the video monitors, supporting himself on his hands and knees. Jen Mai switched the shielding off and turned the monitors on.
A gasp of horror and outrage rang out among the Elders as they took in Clark's torn and broken body. He forced himself to meet their gazes. He tried to muster up a spark of determination in his eyes but he knew that he wasn't successful.
Lord Nor smirked as he greeted the Elders.
"What have you done?" Trey demanded.
Nor glanced casually at Clark, then brought his attention back to the screens.
"What? That? I warned you that I would hurt your precious Lord Kal-El if you failed to submit to my demands."
No, Clark thought to Trey. Stand firm. I'm being held underground... his thoughts were shattered as General Zod cracked him in the skull with the night stick. He stubbornly struggled to maintain consciousness. Blood trickled over his ear.
"Release him at once," Trey demanded. "We will never submit to you."
Nor laughed. "I think not. But I do grow tired of playing these games. You have twenty four hours to turn over New Krypton to my rule. Refuse me again and Kal-El will die. Either way, I am rightfully the next in line to Zara and the throne. I matters not how I achieve my goal. Think well on it gentlemen."
He ended the transmission and replaced the room's shielding. Clark was thrown into his cell. He stumbled and fell. He did not rise again as he finally slipped into the darkness of the unconscious.
He awoke some time later. His vision swam before him. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head. After a few moments, his eyes seemed able to focus. Jen Mai stood before the bars of his cell, quietly watching. Clark shakily pulled himself to his knees. Jen Mai put a finger to his lips, gave a cautious look around, then withdrew something from the folds of his robes. He bent down and slid it between the bars to Clark. Without a word, he vanished back up the stairs.
Clark reached for the object. He grunted with the effort of stretching his body. At last his fingertips brushed it and he took hold of it. He looked at it without understanding for a long moment. His brain seemed to be moving in slow motion. He glided his fingers over it as realization finally dawned. It was a dagger in a tight leather sheath. Clark drew the weapon and inspected it, the haze in his mind suddenly vanishing like shadows at noon.
The blade was thin and delicate looking but strong and finely honed to a razor edge. The metal gleamed bright silver in the hash lighting. Clark ran an appraising finger over the flattest edge of the blade. Dark thoughts swirled in his mind. He could end his pain and suffering with this instrument. Was that what Jen Mai intended? All it would take would be one quick thrust to the heart. Or maybe one precise slash to his wrist. He turned his left arm to look at the delicate, thin layers of skin above the blue veins. One quick slash and he could spill his lifeblood to the stone floor and be done with the torture. He brought the gleaming blade within half an inch of his flesh.
"I'm so sorry, Lois," he whispered.
