From within the LexCorp jet, the skyline of Metropolis came into view.
Kal-El stared through the reinforced glass of the cabin window, his breath catching in his throat. He had seen the city in the travelers’ data, and he had seen the horrific, jagged monuments his clone had erected during the occupation. But seeing it now, in the afternoon sun, was a study in profound cognitive dissonance.
The city was a patchwork of sleek, futuristic LexCorp glass and the blackened, skeletal ruins of the old world. While rebuilding was underway it was impossible not to be made sickened by what his people had done.
"It looks different from the ground," Lois said quietly from the seat across the aisle. She hadn't looked out the window. She was staring at her hands, using relaxation techniques to self soothe.
Kal-El stopped talking not wanting to trigger anything.
When they landed at the private terminal, Lex was waiting on the tarmac, flanked by a half-dozen heavily armed security personnel. Lex handed Kal-El a garment bag before they even reached the waiting armored transport.
"Navy blue suit, white shirt, muted tie," Lex instructed briskly as they climbed into the back of the transport. "I want you looking like a diplomat, not a deity. And for the love of god, keep your feet on the floor. No hovering."
"I have no intention of hovering, Lex," Kal-El said, resting the garment bag on his lap. He looked out the tinted windows as the convoy navigated the fortified streets toward the provisional capitol.
The crowds were already visible blocks away. The provisional capitol building, a hastily reinforced concrete structure meant to serve until City Hall could be rebuilt, was surrounded by thousands of people. It was a deep roar of human anger that made the hairs on Lois’s arms stand up.
Kal-El closed his eyes. His enhanced hearing picked up the individual threads of the mob. He heard the rapid, terrified heartbeats. He heard the chanted slogans. *Monster. Tyrant. Liar.*
He felt a hand touch his arm. He opened his eyes and looked down. Lois’s hand was resting lightly on his sleeve. It was the first time she had initiated physical contact since he had arrived on Earth. Her fingers were trembling slightly, but her grip was firm.
"Breathe," she told him.
Thank you," he whispered. For her, to honor her bravery, he would.
Twenty minutes later, Kal-El stood in the antechamber behind the capitol’s main balcony. He wore the navy suit. He looked incredibly human, and entirely out of place amidst the tactical gear of Lex’s security team.
Lex turned to Kal-El. "The podium has a standard microphone. Speak English. Keep your voice modulated. The *Sons of Earth* are in the front rows. They’re trying to goad you into a display of power. Using your abilities would be the worst thing you could do."
"I will not use my abilities," Kal-El promised.
"Lois, you don't have to go out there," Lex added, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at the reporter. "You've done enough ."
"If he goes out there alone, he's a target," Lois said, her chin lifting in that stubborn, defiant way that both Clarks had loved so much. "If he goes out there with me, he's a guest. Open the doors, Lex."
The doors swung open, leading out to the balcony.
The wall of sound hit them like a physical blow - for Lois, the angry crowed was too much - too reminiscent of other dangerous loud beings. My people. My people.
As Kal-El stepped into the sunlight, the roar of the crowd morphed. It stopped being a generalized chant of protest and coalesced into a sharp, piercing shriek of collective panic and rage. Thousands of people surged forward against the barricades. Signs waved frantically in the air: *NIGHTFALL WAS A KRYPTONIAN LIE*, *NO CONQUERORS*.
Kal-El walked to the podium. He didn't stride with the arrogant, heavy boots of Lord Kal-El. He walked softly, his head bowed just a fraction, his hands gripping the wooden edges of the podium to keep them visible and still.
Lois stepped up right beside him, her shoulder inches from his. The crowd’s roar stuttered for a moment as they recognized her. Lois Lane. The voice of the underground. The woman who had been taken by the Lord of New Krypton and survived. Seeing her standing willingly beside the face of her captor sent a ripple of profound confusion through the mob. People watched her wondering if she was here willingly.
Kal-El leaned into the microphone. He didn't use his superhuman projection; he let the electronic speakers carry his voice.
"I know the face you see," Kal-El began. His voice was quiet, trembling with a raw, unprotected grief that caught the front rows off guard. "I know the horrors that were inflicted upon you in my name, and with my features. I cannot erase them."
"Go to hell!" a man screamed from the front row, his face purple with rage. "You staged the astroid - you brought it here from deep space! You want us to bow!"
Kal-El looked directly at the man. "I do not want you to bow. Your world owes me nothing. I came to stop Nightfall because it was the only restitution I could offer for a tragedy I failed to prevent. I did not come to rule you. I came to serve."
Suddenly, the front line of the crowd violently shoved against the steel barricades. A group of men wearing ragged surplus military jackets broke through the police line.
One of them reached into his coat and pulled out a crude, heavy metal cylinder. He slammed a button on the side, and a blinding, sickly crimson light washed over the balcony.
*Red solar radiation.*
Kal-El gasped, his hands gripping the podium tighter as the sudden, agonizing drain hit his cells. The yellow sun in his blood felt as if it had turned to lead. His knees buckled slightly, but he caught himself, his knuckles turning white on the wood.
Lex’s security detail drew their weapons, surging forward.
"No!" Kal-El shouted, his voice cracking without his powers to sustain it. He threw out a hand, stopping the armed guards in their tracks. "Please! Stand down! Do not fire on them!"
In the split second of hesitation, a jagged piece of concrete—torn from the ruins of the city—hurled through the air from the crowd.
With his reflexes dulled to that of a normal man by the red light, Kal-El couldn't dodge. The concrete struck him hard against the right temple.
The heavy thud echoed through the microphone. Kal-El staggered backward, dropping to one knee as the world spun.
A collective gasp sucked the air out of the plaza. The shouting died instantly.
Kal-El reached a trembling hand up to his temple. When he pulled it away, his fingers were stained bright, vivid crimson. A thin stream of blood ran down the side of his face, dripping onto the pristine collar of his white shirt.
The crowd stared in absolute, horrified silence. The Lord of New Krypton had been entirely invulnerable. Bullets, fire, collapsing buildings—nothing had ever bruised him. He had walked through artillery fire without blinking.
And yet here was his face, kneeling on a balcony, bleeding from a thrown rock.
The man who had thrown the concrete stood frozen by the barricade, his arm still raised, his eyes wide as he stared at the red blood dripping onto the marble floor.
Lois dropped to her knees beside Kal-El, her heart hammering wildly. "Kal!" she breathed, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and pressing it to his temple. She looked at the red emitter still glowing in the protester's hand, then back to the blood.
She stood up, her face a mask of absolute, terrifying fury. She walked directly to the microphone, her hands gripping it so hard the stand shook.
"Look at him!" Lois’s voice boomed across the plaza, echoing off the shattered skyscrapers. "Take a good look! The monster who broke this city would have incinerated this entire block the second that red light turned on! He would have slaughtered you for daring to strike him!"
She pointed a shaking finger at Kal-El, who was slowly, painfully pushing himself back to his feet, holding a bloody handkerchief to his head.
"The asteroid was real, you can talk to our scientists - human scientists!" Lois roared , the tears she had held back for years finally shining in her eyes. "He willingly risked everything to save a world that hates him! He is bleeding for you right now, and he just begged the guards not to hurt you! Do not make the mistake of turning into the monsters we just defeated!"
The silence in the plaza was deafening, broken only by the hum of the red emitter.
The man holding the cylinder looked at the blood on Kal-El’s face, then at Lois Lane’s furious, tear-streaked eyes. His hand began to shake. Slowly, as if waking from a trance, his thumb slipped off the activation switch.
The red light died.
The warm, yellow sunlight washed back over the balcony. Kal-El closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as the ambient radiation flooded his starved cells. The bleeding slowed, but he didn't wipe the stain from his face.
He stepped back up to the podium, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Lois.
"I will not fight you," Kal-El said to the crowd, his voice gentle, carrying no anger whatsoever. "I will never raise a hand against this world. If you wish me to leave, I will leave. But I will not be your enemy."
The man who had thrown the rock slowly lowered his hand, stepping back into the crowd, his face buried in his hands. The signs began to slowly lower, one by one. The mob hadn't vanished, and the fear wasn't entirely gone, but the fever had broken.
