Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   Out in the far reaches of the cosmos, in a galaxy very near to our own, there once was a planet not entirely dissimilar to earth. Its people too once stepped out from their caves and into the arms of each other, so many centum millennium ago. Together they built families, tribes, and civilizations. They learned how to forage for food. Soon enough, it occurred to them that they could grow their own food in the safety of their territory. Then, when the famines came, the primordial people of Krypton, still so early in the cradle of life on their planet, learned how to kill to survive.

   With their bellies full, their minds ached in hunger. Not a hunger for food, but a hunger for knowledge, safety, comfort, and stability. Their tribes turned into nations, their territories into cities, their shelters into buildings, their disputes into wars. These wars taught them how to forge metal into weapons, how to turn rock into city walls, and how to kill for power. These cities expanded their walls, conquering whatever other nations they could until they became conquered themselves.

   Soon when these mega-nations could only fight to a stalemate, a sort of agreement could be established. The fighting and dying would cease and in return the nations of Krypton could work together for the betterment of each other. With the absence of war, their souls longed for fulfillment. Men enslaved other men to do the needed work and used their own time pursuing leisure. These leisure-men learned how to construct art, religion, and great scientific advances. These were all the things needed for a joint culture, and they were kept from the enslaved masses. Yet the enslaved masses still bore witness to them. So it was, upon witnessing the injustices of their lots, the word of revolt began to spread amongst the slaves of Krypton. So it was the leisure-men remembered the horrors of war, and became afraid. So it was that another lesson should be learned, how to kill in the name of peace.

   And yet the peace did not come. Instead there was revolution beneath the crimson sun. All across the land of Krypton, masses arose against those who oppressed them. At times, they were successful, at times they were not. As this was happening, the kryptonian understanding of science continued to evolve. Stone cities became bustling metal metropoli, fire and steam were replaced with electricity and the power of the atom, many even began to turn their eyes to the very stars themselves as an escape from the bloody battles of their homeworld. Slavery was abolished, at the very least in polite society, yet still the lower classes rallied against their oppression. This is when the idea occurred to introduce a form of mobility. Those at the bottom should be allowed an ostensible access to the top. It wouldn’t be easy, of course, but who could complain if it was technically possible. This is when they introduced capital. Stones and gems that had been looked on favorably could be traded in place of service or good, and, notably, no service or good could be officially traded without them. Those at the top would have many, those at the bottom would not. Whether they intended this or not, it is also when the people of Krypton learned how to kill without ever raising their hand nor their head.

   With the introduction of capital, success became very easy to measure. Those with much capital were successful, those with little capital were unsuccessful, and thus looked upon poorly. Capital could be gained by many avenues. Great scientific advancement was one of them, and the sciences exploded to an unthinkable proportion on Krypton during this age. A great entertainer could accrue a large amount of capital, though so could an exploitative mind. And yes, in the great irony of Krypton, vast quantities of capital could be gained through war. As some of these men of capital pulled their resources from the very flesh of the planet, others looked for it beyond the confines of Krypton. It was one of these men that first made contact with extraterrestrial life. A deep space probe was captured by an alien construct and studied intensely. When this intelligence had surmised the presence of Krypton studying it as well, a proposition was made. The alien had no intentions of war, it came in peace, and for Krypton’s troubles, the alien promised it knowledge, power, and riches far greater than they’ve ever seen before. And Lo, Krypton had learned its final lesson, that it too can be killed.

   Jor-El, one the chief scientists of Krypton, had attempted to warn them, but by that point it was too late. Many on Krypton had turned their hearts away from the true god Rao and began to worship this great intelligence in the sky. Even those that weren’t its acolytes found its presence far too lucrative or enticing to dissuade. As such, Jor-El’s warnings of apocalypse were written off as catastrophisation. Yet still the ground beneath them quaked, the winds carried on them destruction, and the very waters of Krypton turned to flame. It took the vanishing of Kandor, a capital city housing over 8 million, to finally open the eyes of the kryptonians.

   Unfortunately, by the time Kandor disappeared into a hale of unholy light, when Krypton realized its impending fate, the star-crossed planet was already doomed. Disasters, both natural and unnatural, had claimed countless lives. Those who worshiped the alien arose from their churches of the purple-dotted pyramid. With their eyes glowing a ghastly amethyste, with their minds now a slave that thing from the blackened eternity of space, with their bodies dripping a terrible technological ichor, they took to the streets. They converted who their master demanded, transforming them to technological terrors. Those the alien did not desire were killed, burnt, or dissected alive. The silver citadels came crumbling down. The very crevices of Krypton opened to swallow its people whole. The planet was beset upon by an unknowable fathom that they themselves had pulled from the depths of oblivion.

   Many tried to escape. The richest among them could afford a form of spacecraft, but none could leave the atmosphere without the alien’s forces decimating them. Jor-El, however, had planned ahead. In his lifetime of scientific discovery, he had learned how to access another dimension. This plane devoid of life, this “phantom zone”, was technically habitable, but stark and barren. In it, time stood still, and to force somebody to live out a life there would be to condemn them to countless epochs of torture. Yet, a curious truth emerged when traversing the Phantom Zone. As long as one knew how to navigate it, one could use it to traverse this dimension as well. To the outside world, as long as you moved quickly enough, it would appear as if it were a form of teleportation. This is how Jor-El and his family were meant to escape the dying Krypton.

   He had built a craft capable of traversing this Phantom Zone. He had tested it with a smaller, almost basket like, version and the family pet to make sure organic life could survive the trip. The experiment was a success, and Jor-El had plotted a path through the Phantom Zone to a safe planet. The atmosphere was different there. The gravity was less strong as well, the technology far less advanced and, oddly enough, their sun was yellow. But the people looked the same as them, the air was breathable, the food could nourish them. They could hide there, as long as they learned to control their reactions to an alien ecosystem. Jor-El built a much larger craft for the voyage. It could house him, his wife Lara-Zod, and their infant child, Kal. The on board Phantom Zone projector would allow them to leave this dimension before they reached the upper limits of the atmosphere. Krypton may die, but they would live.

   The time had come. In his hand, Jor-El held a crystal codex. On it was housed all of the art, knowledge, and culture of Krypton that Jor-El longed to preserve. The alien’s acolytes rallied against the walls of his estate. The ground shook beneath his feet, and, looking out the window, Jor-El could see a bloody hand burst through his outer walls.

   “Security integrity has dropped to 98%” came the chipper monotone of the estate’s artificial intelligence.

   “Thank you Kelex.” Jor-El responded as he hurriedly made his way downstairs. The response was mostly a formality, and if Jor-El had any more time to think on it he would wonder why he had bothered.

   “Further scans indicate that the structural integrity of Krypton’s core has degraded further to 45% of optimal status.” Kelex continued. “If you wish to vacate, I would suggest you take prompt action Jor-El.”

   “That was the plan, yes.”

   “I am delighted to hear that Jor-El. Kal-El, Lara-Zod, and their guests are awaiting you downstairs in the hangar.”

   A chill ran down Jor-El’s spine and, despite the horrible danger, for a second he stopped running.

   “Kelex?” He asked. “What do you mean by ‘their guests’?”

   If there were any men left to record her story, they would likely have labeled Lara-Zod as the victim of sentimentality. Jor-El had warned her not to let others know about the craft lest they attempt to steal it for themselves. It was a fine-tuned piece of scientific equipment, specially built for two adults and an infant. Not only was it possible that another group of people could throw off the weight of the craft, thus affecting the precise calculations required for a journey such as this, but they may not know how to operate the intricate machinery. Jor-El considered explaining this to his brother-in-law, however the plasma rifle held to Lara-Zod’s back did not give off the impression of an understanding mindset.

   Lara-Zod came from a military family. Her younger brother, Non-Zod was a renowned warrior who had trained his body to almost legendary levels of strength. Her sister-in-law, Ursa-Von, had once been an agent of espionage rumored to have slain entire armies in their sleep. They had even begun training her niece, Kara-Zod, at the young age of ten to become a killer. (Though at the age of sixteen when these events took place, she had still yet to take another life. It was a point of contention for much of The House of Zod, but not for Lara.) However, their ruthlessness and brutality paled in comparison to Lara’s eldest brother, patriarch to The House of Zod, victor of the battle of Argo City, warmonger supreme of Krypton, General Ur-Zod.

   Ur-Zod had long since been the tormentor of Lara-Zod. When they were children and had been conditioned into warriors, Lara was the weakest among them by far. Physical training pushed her beyond her limits. Learning the histories of Krypton’s various wars inspired the nightmares that would haunt her throughout her life. Sparring with her siblings often brought her within an inch of her life. It was Ur-Zod that nursed her back to health, that made sure she was once again in fighting shape. Then, of course, it was Ur-Zod that would fight her again. As such he was her only source of comfort and safety, but also her main source of danger. It was this that left her so indebted to him, no matter how much she despised his actions. This is why, even though she knew the end results of her actions, she still chose to tell General Zod of how to escape the dying Krypton. This is why she was so disappointed in herself as she stood, cradling her baby in his crimson swaddle, crying silently as her husband begged for their lives.

   “Please Ur, just set the rifle down.” pleaded Jor, though he knew he was pleading in vain. General Zod was not paying attention to his brother-in-law. Instead he was simply keeping Lara captive only to allow his family time enough to board the interdimensional spacecraft behind him.

   “Ursa!” Called out the General, “Have you found the data crystals on the ship? Do you know how to operate it yet?”

   “Yes my lord” responded the spy. In her hands she held crystal codexes similar to Jor-El’s. One held the instructions and flight patterns for the craft, the other stored not science and culture but history and war.

   Another quake shook the ground and even from their stronghold beneath the surface of Krypton they could hear laser fire above.

   “Security integrity has dropped to 75%,” the building informed them. “Intruders have been detected on the grounds and, in accordance with previous commands, laser turrets have been engaged.”

   “RAODAMMIT KELEX!” Jor-El screamed through his tears. “Just stop talking!”

   “We have everything we need. Kara, Ursa, Non, on the ship,” Demanded General Zod. “We’re leaving.”

   “You don’t know what you’re doing Ur!” Jor-El continued. “The ship wasn’t built for this. You are damning your family by attempting to flee.”

   “I am sorry to hear of your dissatisfaction Jor-El,” Kelex cut in.

   “And you Jor-El!” Barked back General Zod. “You would damn us by having us stay?”

   Another quake, more laser fire. Non and Ursa both boarded the ship behind him, but Ur-Zod’s own daughter Kara did not move. For she had become enraptured in terror by the scene unfolding before her. As Zod moved the rifle from Lara’s back towards Jor-El’s head their child, Kal-El, began to cry.

   Kelex spoke again “I believe something has gone wrong with my systems, Jor-El. I may be being compromised.”

   “You would damn all of Krypton Jor-El?” General Zod moved closer with his rifle. “You would watch the great empire die from your ark in the sky?”

   “I would rebuild Krypton!” Jor-El’s fear had turned to anger. “A land with so much promise and knowledge that must bow to the likes of warmongers no longer!”

   “There is something wrong with my systems, Jor-El. There is something wrong with my systems. There is something wrong with my systems, Jor-El. There is something wrong with my systems. There is something-”

   “And who should they genuflect to in my place?” Zod pressed the barrel of his rifle against Jor-El’s forehead. “You!?”

   “Why oughtn’t they be led by men of science and reason then General?” Jor-El shouted back at him.

   The ground shook, the lasers fired, rivers of blood and flame flowed across Krypton’s bloated corpse, and still the man in the sky continued his assault.

   “There is something wrong with my sys… sys… SYsysmSts wRozxng … jOR-eL. Zxxzxzxxzz… integ…. Zxzxzx… 50%... 40%... 30%... zzxzxxxxzzz… hail. All hail … zxzxzxzxz… There is something wrong with my zyxtems, Jor-El. There izzzzzzomething wrong with my systems.”

   “A new Krypton should have no place for killers like you Ur!” Jor-El stood in righteous defiance.

   “I will build the new Krypton brother-in-law! And they, like you,...” With these words, the militarists struck Jor-El down to his knees with the butt of his rifle. “Will kneel before Zod!”

   “Kara” The voice was calm and filled with love. As Kara-Zod turned from her stupified terror, she saw her aunt holding and infant wrapped in red out to her. “Take Kal for me.” Lara continued. “Hold him close and watch over him, please. Make sure that no harm should come to him. I know that you can.” Kara-Zod nodded her head, and took her crying newborn cousin into her arms.

   As glass shattered in the rooms above, Lara-Zod engaged her brother in battle once more. Violence was the only way of life in The House of Zod, and the blood that connected them spilled on the ground.

   Jor-El rushed to close the security doors behind him. Heavy titanium came crashing down, preventing the alien’s acolytes from entering the hangar area for now. Lara and Ur-Zod brought mighty blows against one another. With punch after punch the flesh tore from their knuckles and blood clouded their vision. Kara, in her infinite fear, opted to retreat.

   Holding baby Kal-El in her arms, Kara rushed onto the interdimensional space-craft where her mother and uncle were waiting.

   “We have to leave. Now” She hurriedly informed them.

   Yet despite her warning, they did not make haste. Instead they stood slowly and made their way to either side of Kara, suspicion in their eyes. When Ursa-Von opened her mouth, the words she said spelled doom.

   “Without Zod?”

   Kara came crashing out of the craft, having been thrown by her mother. Though she held with all her strength, baby Kal-El still fell from her grasp. Ursa and Non descended from the craft, ready to doll out a military punishment to their deserter. Kara attempted to crawl towards Kal, but was lifted by her blonde and bloodied har. As Non held her aloft in the air, and as Ursa beat her, Kara bore witness to her aunt’s final moments.

   One fire from the rifle was all it took. A laser blast to her chest, to her heart, and Lara-Zod was dead. Jor-El abandoned the barricade he had been building to kneel by her side. As the consciousness faded from her eyes, Kara and The House of Zod escaped from Krypton.

Whilst his only hope of survival vanished into The Phantom Zone, Jor-El, the scientist prophet of Krypton, cried over his lover’s corpse. A dent formed in the titanium behind him. His barricade would not last for long. Soon, like his wife, like his planet, like everything he had ever known or believed in, Jor-El would be dead.

   He picked up his son, born only months ago. It seemed so wrong to him, so cosmically unjust, that one still so soon in the cradle of life should be snuffed out so violently. This was the horror of war, and, he knew it now, the horror of great knowledge. If only the people of Krypton had been content, so long ago, to stay in their caves. To never form the tribes that would become nations, to never erect their walls and their weapons, to never turn their eyes to another piece of land let alone the stars, that would be to live correctly he thought. If they did not build their metal metropoli, if they did not harness the atom’s power, they would not have found that horror in the blackness of space. What good were truth, justice, and a better tomorrow if they could not be alive today?

   The titanium door was coming free of its bearings now. The alien’s forces would soon be upon them. With a deep breath, Jor-El took one final look around what was left of his estate. There in the hangar he saw the empty space where his project used to be. He saw the love of his life dead before him. He saw where the family pet had slept before it ran away, frightened off by the natural disasters. And, finally, he saw the little basket like ship that the animal had traversed realities with months before. It was far too small to fit Jor-El, but it was the perfect size for his son Kal.

   Crying in hunger, thirst, and confusion from the loud noises all around him, Kal-El found himself lowered into an odd metal thing. It was much like his crib, but the walls were far higher and the surface below his back was far more uncomfortable. Surely it wasn’t the time for a nap, was it? Kal had not been fed, he had not been burped or changed. These were all the things his mother did, and he had not seen his mother since cousin Kara was holding him. Where was she anyway? Surely she could make the loud noises stop, or fill his belly, or kiss the boo-boo on his arm. He should grab his father’s hand as it was pushing all these buttons before him. Then his father could go and get his mother, surely. If he cried some more then his father would have to get her, he always did. But instead his father simply pulled his hand away, placed something clear in the crib with Kal, and rubbed his cheek.

   “Sssshh sh sh Kal. There’s no need to cry now. Just close your eyes and go to sleep.”

   Jor-El closed the basket with his son inside and initiated the launch. The barricade came collapsing down as a flood of mechanical men came rushing in. They overtook Jor-El, tore apart his lover’s corpse, and many reached out to try and pluck the basket from the sky. However, they were too late. The basket now was far out of their reach, ascending out of this reality and off towards somewhere safe. In his dying breath, the last living man on Krypton watched his greatest creation fly up. Up, and away.

Chapter Text

   “Look! Up in the sky!” Screamed the poor helpless cameraman. At 22 years old, Jimmy Olsen usually believed he had his whole life still ahead of him. Hell, he was still in his first job out of college. But, seeing that helicopter come crashing towards him, Jimmy was overcome with a panic that told him he was about to die. Now, granted, as a cameraman for The Daily Planet, he had many times been sent into the widening maws of danger. However, he had never been more certain than he was right now that those jaws should snap shut and spit out only a charred skeleton, and perhaps a few tufts of ginger hair.

   And then there was the woman he was warning. Lois Lane; winner of both a pulitzer prize and a fake news award. In her 40 years on god’s green earth she had certainly lived a hell of a lot more than Jimmy Olsen, and she wasn’t ready to give it up just yet. Dropping her microphone, Lois jumped forward and tackled Jimmy back a couple of feet. She had done it before, when he was first hired, and saved him from a bullet during negotiations with a religious cult that went sour. She did it last year in a war zone and saved him from an explosive that detonated just a bit too close. She did it now, during a prison riot, but was this time unable to save him from the crashing police copter. 

   There on the ground, amidst the dust, rubble, and blood, Jimmy Olsen and Lois Lane faced certain death from above. At first they could only see the fire and the smoke. It filled up the sky, a black shroud glowing orange as it blotted out the sun. Then they could make out the shape of the craft. Its mangled hull looked like it had been crushed in the palm of some ill-minded behemoth. The tail seemed to be missing at first, but could soon be found detached from the helicopter, and falling in tandem with it. The rotor atop still spun a razor-sharp whirlwind that gained it no altitude. Finally, it could be made out, the faces of the men on board. One prayed, one cried, and the man who had been working the gun was beginning to wonder where his arm had went. He would likely have gone the rest of his life before the shock wore off and he realized it had come asunder in the explosion that caused the helicopter to crash. All of this happened in an instant, and in less than half that time, the helicopter disappeared.

   A great gust of wind rolled Jimmy and Lois back a handful of feet in the rubble. Lois fixed her eyes to the sky where, in the dissipating smoke, there hung a distinct hole. It was an absence as if that part of the smoke had been disrupted, like something flew through it. Too big to be a bird, too small to be a plane. Looking behind them, Jimmy couldn’t believe his eyes. Scrambling to capture it on camera, Jimmy Olsen bore witness to the two co-pilots stepping out of the now grounded helicopter, unharmed.

   “Who the hell was that!?” exclaimed the main pilot.

   “I don’t know,” the co-pilot answered. “But he flew off with Rodney. It kinda looked like he was heading in the direction of Metropolis General.”

   On the ground, Lois had begun to overhear the pilots' conversation and she was overcome with a single, one word long, question. He? As she began to climb to her feet, the famously intrepid reporter addressed her cameraman.

   “You caught that, right?”

   “What do I look like?” Jimmy asked, standing up with his camera to his eye. “Some kinda kid?”

   In truth, Lois thought it was the most dangerous times when Jimmy looked the most youthful. Being covered in dirt, dust, rubble, and even blood, it brought something out in Jimmy’s eyes. Rather, it brought out a lack of something. But she would never tell him that if he didn’t already know it.

   “Just keep rolling Jimmy.” She told him. “Something extraordinary’s about to happen. I can feel it.”

   And Lois wasn’t the only one who felt it either. All across the yard at Stryker’s Island for Superpowered Criminals, the riot began changing to an escape. The first to leave was known as The Ultra-Humanite, a once human genius who had transferred their psychic mind into the body of an albino gorilla in an attempt to escape their futile humanity. They used their heavily armed escort of mind-controlled guards to slip into a car and drive away. It was certainly the most civilized of all the high-profile escapes that day.

   Meanwhile the former vigilante Manchester Black rellied, as was his way, on brute force. His psionic constructs, though perfectly capable of defense, were used as means of attack. Purple psionic tendrils snaked their way through the chest cavities and innards of guards. Little purple bubbles appeared in the brains of police officers, disrupting electrical flow and causing hemorrhages. A purple aura surrounded their guns and even their bullets, sending their firepower right back through them. Finally, Manchester Black simply stepped on a psionic platform and floated away to reunite with his lover, Livewire.

   Livewire herself had escaped as well. Being a being of pure energy, all she had to do was stand next to an outlet and she had slipped away inside the power lines. In her wake she left a volley of charred corpses.

   Winslow Percival Schlott, a.k.a. The Toyman had been the one who initiated this riot. Though he didn’t have any powers himself, he was easily dangerous enough on his own to earn a cell at Stryker’s. He demonstrated that danger now as, armed only with a cement yo-yo, the fat middle-aged man caved in the skulls of some of the best trained former members of the United States armed forces. His custom made helicopter was hovering, already waiting for him.

   However, there was one high-profile prisoner who simply refused to leave. His sickly green pyre burned bright across the yard at Strykers. Though he was now devoid of skin, and even most of his muscle, the swastika carved into his forehead let people know that Martin Micheals was still a white supremacist. The other prisoners had been put in the standard orange jumpsuits, but nobody had dared remove Michaels’ bulky steel and graphite containment suit for fear of what might result. As such, each strike from his fist tore through the staff and the walls of Strykers not only with the power of a mighty explosion, but also of a super-strength powered war-rig. With every attack, the living skeleton left severe burns and decay across the bodies of his victims. As the emerald inferno wrapped around him, the thing called Atomic Skull continued his hunt.

   “Lois Lane!” His mighty roar reverberated throughout the prison complex. “I know you’re here bitch! Time you got what was yours!”

   It was one of her first ever exposais when Lois Lane exposed Martin Micheal’s motorcycle gang for the neo-nazi organization it really was. He had always blamed her for the resulting domino effect that ultimately led to his grisly fate. Now he was free, and he had seen The Daily Planet van parked outside. It was no guarantee that they had sent Lois, but The Atomic Skull knew her desire for danger could never allow Lois Lane of all people to stay away from a supervillain prison break of all things. As he ascended to the very top of the prison walls he cast his gaze down to the yard and, like a gift from below, there she was.

   A maniacal laugh drew her attention to the top of the prison. There it was that her eyes met those of the man who meant to kill her, like so many before. As his burning aura began to glow brighter, Lois knew he was charging up to blast her with an atomic beam of hellfire. Yet, despite the mortal danger, despite the protests of her cameraman and closest friend, despite even her own instincts, Lois Lane stood her ground.

   “Do ya hear that Jimmy?” She whispered as a secret smile crept across her face. “That rumble in the distance? 

   “Who cares!?” Screamed Jimmy in exasperation.

   “It’s like a jetfighter Jimmy, or a locomotive on the tracks.” There was a sense of awe in her voice. She knew if she ran it would be an admission of defeat. But if she stayed, Atomic Skull would realize she was damn near untouchable, and he wouldn’t even know what hit him.

   “Well whatever the hell it is,” Jimmy tried to explain,  “it's not getting here in time to save you!” 

   “Ooooohhh,” Lois chuckled under her breath. “I think he will.”

   Just like when she was a kid at an air show, Lois saw the blue angel before she heard him. First a blue and crimson blur passed by overhead, then the sonic boom followed. Whoever this man was, he just flew fast enough, on his own power, to break the sound barrier. And he just collided fist first with the Atomic Skull.

   The wall he was standing on erupted with the force of the collision. Thrown to the other end of the rooftops, Atomic Skull stood one shaky foot up and then the next until he was once again standing tall. He was on the opposite side of the prison now, having been thrown so quickly he hadn’t even seen himself moving. Surveying his surroundings, he no longer searched for Lois Lane. She could die another day, he thought. Right now, Atomic Skull had to kill whatever it was that just ran through him. Yet no matter where he looked he couldn’t find it. There were only the slight disturbances in its wake. A dissipation of smoke, the flutter of the wind, a change in the direction of a flag. These things only told him where the blur had been. But by the time The Atomic Skull’s eyes moved forward, the man was already gone. Finally, Atomic Skull heard that familiar rumble in the air. Turning to face directly forward, Micheal’s found him again. 

   There was the massive muscled visage of the man in the sky rapidly approaching. The Skull only had enough time to register the blue bodysuit and the large caucasian fist before firing off an atomic beam towards his attacker. Atomic Skull blasted this man with the force of atom bomb birrage. He tore apart the very subatomic particles of the sky between them, ripping asunder the forces of the natural world. And still the man kept coming.

   Another mighty punch sent Atomic Skull falling to the earth. He fired atomic beam after atomic beam up at the flying man above but not a single blow connected. However, this eidolon of strength could regularly fly down at super speed and attack the skull with enough force to dent the very earth he stood on. Finally The Atomic Skull was grabbed and lifted into the air. 

   The Atomic Skull was wrapped up in a bear hug, being flown away at super-speed. He was much closer now to his attacker. He could make out the crimson cloth of the cape on his back, the leather of his red boots and the metal of his large ruby belt. He could tell that the blue suit, though not so abnormal to stand out upon seeing it, was indeed made of a material the Skull was unfamiliar with. He saw the man’s brunette hair and slightly tanned skin, and though they were not punctured, singed, or bleeding, they were covered in the grime and muck of battle. Being this close to the man, Atomic Skull could see, he was and could be hurt.

   Martin Michaels brought his burning steel fists down on the small of the hero’s back. For the first time he heard the man’s voice and it was screaming out in pain. Reflexively, the man let go of Atomic Skull. As he was falling, Michaels shot an atomic beam at his attacker, and plucked the flying man out of the sky.

   Both came crashing back into the yard of Strykers. Their rough landing sent shockwaves out cascading past Jimmy and Lois, who had been filming the titans’ clash. Those watching live at home could see a tidal wave of dust climb into the sky and crest above the Daily Planet duo. When everything settled back down and the air was still, there was only one warrior left standing. From his burning boney mouth came another evil laugh.

   “I told you before Lois,” with a low growl, he turned his gaze back to the reporter. “I’m a fucking god. And now you’re gonna taste my wrath.”

   Now Lois Lane would finally admit she had to run, but she simply did not have the time. An atomic blast came ripping through the air before her, a nuclear funeral pyre to cremate her and her cameraman where they stood. Lois screwed her eyes shut and tried to prepare for whatever darkness awaited her on the other side. It seemed to be taking so much longer than she would have expected.

   It had been a solid thirty seconds and her skin wasn’t burning. She hadn’t lost feeling or run out of breath. Infact, if she didn’t know better, she would have said she hadn’t been attacked at all. Lois Lane was still alive.

   Opening her eyes, she was met with a sea of blue. There in the center was some sort of coat of arms. It was golden, outlined with a red metal she didn’t recognize. There in the middle though, was something quite familiar. The font might be odd, but there was no mistaking it. Staring her in the face was a great, big, bright red “S”.

   Lois slowly slid her gaze upwards. Over the rippling muscles of the mountainous man before her. Over his blemishless white skin and strong pronounced jawline. There was the face of the man from the sky. A single strand of dark brunette, almost black, hair hung down over his forehead. Her eyes were stuck, sinking into the shimmering deep blue eyes staring back at her. She was so lost in them, she almost didn’t see his smile. That smile, so perfectly natural, showcasing his pearly white teeth and his soft lips put two adorable dimples in his face, despite the lack of fat. From that smile came a deep comforting voice that radiated a kind of hearth-like warmth throughout.

   “Ma’am,” He said, as a formal greeting. “Sir.”

   His large body encompassed both Lois and Jimmy in a protective shield. The atomic beams came cascading off his back as he happily took the attack in their place. Of course, looking up at him, you wouldn’t know he was being attacked at all.

   A hushed whisper came from the lips of Jimmy Olsen, still holding the camera. “Holy shit.”

   “Don’t cuss on camera Jim,” Lois said it, equally as quiet, out of instinct. Yet, having heard herself out loud, she was a bit embarrassed at the trivial nature of her statement. Luckily the man before them found it a slight bit amusing.

   “I think we can give him a pass this time, can’t we Miss Lane?” he chuckled with his words. “Though in all seriousness, I’ll have to ask that you two get yourselves to safety now. That radiation can be a nasty business.” As he spoke, the hero stood and turned back around to face his foe. “As for our little friend here, only one good way to put out a fire.”

   The mysterious stranger held out a single hand. With it, he held the atomic beam at bay as Lois and Jimmy made their escape. Of course, the two didn’t move too far away. Then they wouldn’t be able to capture the rest of the fight. Though, the fight wouldn’t last much longer.

   That blue cladded boy-scout flew forward and grasped onto Michael’s very skull, using it to turn the villain’s body away from any civilians who would otherwise be in danger. As Atomic Skull shot off more attacks, the hero barely registered them. Instead, he kept looking over the ground beneath them, as if he was searching for something he had dropped, only there was nothing there.

   “You just don’t know when to quit! Do ya!?” Screamed the Atomic Skull.

   “Quit? Now why would I do a thing like that?” Asked the man in blue. “Why, I haven’t even broken a sweat. But you Skull, you’re starting to look a bit tired there, aren’t you?” As he spoke, the protector smiled. Apparently he had found whatever it was he was looking for. “How about you go ahead and cool off for me now.”

   Two red beams came rocketing out of the man’s eyes and went boring deep underground. Once they struck their payload, a rumble could be felt. Soon a geyser erupted and pushed The Atomic Skull back against the prison walls with its great force. The man had burst a water main with his laser eyes, though just how he knew it was there was anybody’s guess. As Atomic Skull was beginning to regain his footing, the heroic man took in a deep breath. When he let it out, a chill went through the summer air. In a flash, the erupting water was frozen in place and the burning green flame turned to smoke. There, frozen in a block of ice, was the defeated Atomic Skull.

   With the danger now dissipated, it was time for Lois and Jimmy to get the full story that had developed here today. The two of them rushed forward towards him. Lois picked her microphone up out of the rubble and held it to the man.

   “Sir! Excuse me please,” Lois addressed him. “Can you start by telling us your name?”

   The man didn’t answer. He simply smiled and flew away. Well, if he didn’t want to give a name himself, the Daily Planet would give one for him.

   The Daily Planet was one of the only black owned news networks of its size. Perry White, the man in charge, took great pride in this fact. Though he had, many many times, been offered inordinate amounts of money from CNN, Al Jazeera, or even Fox News in an attempt for buy-outs, he had always refused. Not only would it mean inevitable lay-offs for the people currently in his employ, but it would halt every plan he had for expansion. Perry knew he could turn this network into an international juggernaut with enough time. It was still a newspaper when he got hired to work the crime beat, and he had been with it for its evolution into the national news station it was today. Much of that evolution happened under his own tutelage. 

   However, there was no denying that Perry White was getting older. What had once been a beautiful black afro in his youth had now turned to a thinning white sheen on his head. Where once he could feel he had the strength of ten men, it now hurt to walk up the stairs with the wrong kind of form. It was also true that in the past, The Daily Planet had seen great success, yet in the alien age of social media, Perry was struggling to keep the lights on. Recently he’d found himself looking back over those buy-out options at night. But that was all about to change. 

   There was a new superhero in town, maybe even better than all the rest, and he was a metropolitan. Right here in his very own backyard, Perry White had stumbled onto a Wonder Woman for men. The business opportunities were lucrative to put it lightly. He planned to take full advantage of the situation. He wanted the name of this flying whatchamacallit to go with The Daily Planet like bacon and eggs, franks and beans, death and taxes, politics and corruption. It would be a lot easier to work out if he could get his star reporter, the woman who’d actually seen this guy, to join the meeting.

   “Lois Lane!” Perry screamed into the otherwise empty bullpen. “Hell are you doin’ out here? I called a meeting!”

   “I thought I was supposed to meet my new producer today Perry.” Lois shot back. “So where is he?”

   “In the conference room, with everybody else, same place you oughta’ be right now.” he scolded. The two made their way back to the meeting as they talked. “You’ll love him. He was doin’ exceptional work back in Kansas with the local stations before I found him.”

   “Kansas?” There was a palpable disgust on Ms. Lane’s voice.

   “Yup, he was doin’ human interest.” Perry continued. “Hometown a’ Smallville.”

   “That cannot be what it’s actually called,” Lois couldn’t believe her own ears. “Farmboy’s not gonna cut it Perry. I’m out in the thick of it. Every. Single. Day. I’m already saving Jimmy’s ass half the time but at least he does what I tell him to do when I tell him to do it. How on earth did I piss you off enough to stick me with this nobody?”

   Perry stopped walking. It was true Lois was more or less the face of The Daily Planet. It was her legendary exploits that kept people tuning in. But she had a real problem with authority and, for as often as she kept Perry’s company relevant, she put it in danger too. Every so often it became necessary to remind her of this fact.

   “This morning a man shot the equivalent of a nuclear bomb at your head and you downright refused to get out of the way.” Nobody would ever make the mistake of calling Perry a calm man, but the hushed anger in his voice would’ve scared the devil that day. “You should be thanking God that there’s still a producer on this planet willing to work with you, Lane. And you should be thanking me that I found him. Clark Kent is talented and a hard worker, sure. But he’s also level headed and reasonable. That man’s got an eye for safety and so help me Jesus if you ever want to hold a microphone again you will do exactly as he instructs you to because, mark my words Lois Lane, you will not die on TV. At least not on one of my shows. Am I being clear with you now?”

   “Yes sir.” She had other, more choice words for him, but she thought better.

   “Good. Now get in there.” Perry held the door open. “He’s standing in the back with Jim.”

   When Lois saw him, her spirit left her body. Clark Kent; what a joke. His greasy brown hair almost looked like it had been put into a comb-over, but on closer inspection it was just poorly styled. Behind those thick black glasses sat two dull gray eyes that almost begged not to be looked at. His chin disappeared into his slouching body and the low quality suit he was wearing was a few sizes too large for him. No doubt it was an attempt to hide the rolling hills of fat he had accumulated in his thirty-odd years. Upon noticing Lois, Clark gave a weak and awkward smile. She did note he had immaculate teeth and she gave silent thanks that he was at least hygienic.

   “Hi,” his voice was navely and high-pitched. “I’m Clark. Clark Kent. I’m a big fan, I loved your piece with the-”

   “Can it Smallville,” she huffed. “Let's see if you can cut the mustard before you try to make any friends.”

   Clark slumped back into his corner as Perry took to the center of the room.

   “Names people!” He called out to the crowd of reporters. “If you’ve got one, shout it!”

   “You wanted him associated with the city right?” Called out one reporter. “Well, Metropolis is the City of Tomorrow, why not call him the Man of Tomorrow?”

   “Eeeeh,” Perry responded. “Too long. We need something snappy, memorable.”

   “What about The Blur? On account of how fast he moves?”

   “That’s just one power though, this guy does it all!”

   “The Blue Bomber?”

   “No! No! Too militant!”

   “Guardian?”

   “Come on people! He’s got that big S on his chest, can we do somethin’ with that?”

   “What do you think of The Spartan?”

   “Better, but it’s still too violent. He didn’t punch this guy into submission, he froze him in a block of ice.”

   “He’s invulnerable, super strength, I’m thinking Steel?” That suggestion came from Lois Lane herself. “Maybe Man of Steel? Citizen Steel? Something like that?”

   “Good but not best,” Perry answered. “Put those in the maybe pile but I want more answers like that!”

   The room continued to erupt in a volley of names. Moments turned to minutes and it had nearly been a half an hour. No matter this name or that, Perry could always find a fault with it. It was too small-minded, to arch, too violent, too childish, too long, or too short. The room had run out of ideas and, for the sake of time, Perry was prepared to move on. But there was still one person who hadn’t said anything. He had been keeping his hand raised silently in the back the entire time.

   “Yes?” Perry called on him with a sarcastic curiosity.. “Mr. Kent? Do you have something to contribute?”

   A few snickers could be heard at the naive nature of the large new hire. As he readjusted his glasses, Clark Kent stumbled over his words.

   “Uh, well, ya know Perry,” he stuttered. “I, uh.., I did have one idea.”

Chapter Text

    “Superman.” The words came out like a deep low rumble from his throat. Though the two had never yet met, his name inspired a twinge of annoyance. “And that name doesn’t strike you as even the least bit, oh, I don’t know… Tawdry? Now does it Lois?”

    Lex Luthor set his phone down on the makeup table. He had just read the headline on twitter; “Superman Saves City! But is this mysterious stranger friend or foe? Here’s everything we know.” Once upon a time, Lex couldn’t help but reminisce, a headline had to fit on the top of a newspaper. But such is the price of progress. If The Daily Planet wanted to survive, it, like everyone else, would have to keep up with the future. And, if they wanted to do more than survive, they would have to MAKE the future. But Lex already had that job covered himself.

    Lex Luthor fancied himself the man of tomorrow and as he looked into the mirror, he considered his future as a futurist. He was in his mid fifties publicly (early sixties privately), and knew that his age did not show as terribly as it did on other men. He had gone bald long ago but a pricey skin care regimen made it seem almost like a choice and, in fact, many people assumed it was. While he worked out enough to stay healthy, he was still thankful for the tailored olive green vest and pants and deep aubergine shirt that gave off the impression that he had a slightly more muscular build. The gossamer gray stubble along his chin gave him a humbling appearance and even his faint jowls and pronounced ears only served to make him appear more refined. Yet he still couldn’t pull focus from below his hazel gaze. No matter how hard those damned make-up girls tried, they could never quite cover up the bags under his eyes.

    But it would have to do. He was on a very tight schedule after all. As Lex made his way over to the chair that had been set up for his interview, Lois finally answered him.

    “Don’t look at me Lex, I didn’t name him.” She confessed. “That was all the farm boy over there.”

    She motioned with her hand over to Clark, cowering in the corner. No matter where he stood in the room, it just seemed like Clark Kent could never quite escape the piercing gaze of that buff blonde chauffeur.

    “Mercy, please,” Lex called out to his bodyguard. “Cut the poor man a break. He’s harmless.”

    She huffed out a small scoff in miniscule protest. It was the largest she could muster in good faith. For, as suspicious as she was of anyone who tried to be as unassuming as Clark, she also had a great deal of faith in Lex’s judgment. He was the smartest man she’d ever met. Smartest man in the world even! If he thought everything was fine, then she had no choice but to obey. So it was that Mercy Graves turned her gaze from Clark and returned to her position guarding the door.

    “Lex Luthor,” Lex had shifted his attention to the bumbling man himself. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Of course, you know it’s a real honor to meet you too sir,” Clark responded. “I remember when Pete Ross a couple farms over from mine as a kid got the first little LexCorp   doo-dad in town. One of those watches. Made us all feel like he was James Bond!”

    Lex forced out a nonchalant chuckle. What Clark had been referring to was the X-Watch, the first model of which didn’t come out until Lex was past forty. And apparently this full fledged news producer had still been a child. But Lex put that thought out of his mind.

    “Making memories that shape the future,” Lex remarked. “That’s what we’re all about here at LexCorp, isn’t it?”

    “Uh, Miss Lane?” interrupted Jimmy Olsen from behind the camera. “They’re about to cut to us.”

    Across Metropolis and across the world, viewers tuned in to The Daily Planet News Network could hear the voice of the anchorman Ron Troupe as he said; “And now, live with the man himself, top reporter Lois Lane is here to give us some insight into this exciting new turn in human exploration. Lois?”

    Across Lois’ face flashed a smile. Many in the media field had praised that smile as warm, inviting, and genuine. Yet even from across the room Clark and Mercy could both make out a hint of disdain.

    “Hello Ron. I’m here at the top level of the LexCorp Pyramid with Lex Luthor himself. Lex, what can you tell us about LexCorp’s new deep space exploration initiative?”

    “Well Lois,” He began, “As you know, there are already four main branches of the LexCorp family. LexCorp Comfort, which makes all of our wonderful electronic contributions. That’s what you think of when you think of LexCorp. LexCorp Entertainment, that covers both our streaming service and our recent social media acquisitions. They provide you with ways to stay in contact with the ones you love, and hours of supreme content to enjoy together. LexCorp Defense provides tools to those heroes who keep us safe, And LexCorp Living, which of course spearheads all of our various city planning initiatives that help keep places like Metropolis, Hub City, and Dubai on the cutting edge of tomorrow.”

    As Lex recounted his great achievements, Clark was busy filling out spreadsheets. It was unlikely that the interview would be re-edited as a package for later broadcasts, since it was airing live. However, it was almost certain that they would want clips and soundbites for social media. In addition, The Daily Planet was one of many news networks that provided raw footage to smaller networks and local news stations across the country. And so, while it was not strictly necessary, Clark still felt it wise to keep a well organized log. Besides, it helped to focus him.

    Clark realized, from a very early age, that somebody like him, with his abilities, would have to stay focused or he would die. Though it was rarely ever a problem anymore, his super-senses nearly drove him to the brink of madness when he was going through puberty. As such, he found it comforting to keep himself pre-occupied. The more time he spent listening to Lex Luthor’s grandiose tale of becoming the most powerful man on earth, the less time he spent listening to the helicopter blades on the other side of town, smelling the adrenaline in Mercy Graves’ bloodstream, or seeing the molecules that made up his clipboard.

    “And now we welcome LexCorp Extraterrestrial to the family as well,” Continued the businessman and self proclaimed genius. “The sad truth of the matter is that this planet is rapidly becoming unlivable. Decades of overconsumption have ravaged this little blue ball and the problem doesn’t seem to be getting any better. You may have heard the saying ‘Take care of the planet, it’s the only one we’ve got,’ Well, I’m here to tell you that doesn’t have to be true. It is the mission of LexCorp Extraterrestrial to allow humanity to finally take its rightful place among the stars. These deep space probes are only the beginning. Set to launch today, from our launch pads just a few miles east from here, on The Atlantic, our probes will launch farther and faster than those that NASA, or any other government organization has been able to achieve. And all the while, they’ll stay controlled by our team here on Earth. Their goal is to tell us what exists out there in the deep unexplored regions of the cosmos. Though I cannot overstate how exciting it will be to learn the answers to the ever burning questions, “Are we alone in the universe?”, “What is the secret of creation?”, “What lies beyond the limits of imagination?” I must also stress that these are far from the final goal. Ultimately these deep space probes will give us the data we need to eventually set up colonies on Mars, and maybe even beyond!”

    “So, I guess someday we might all be, uh, Lex-tra terrestrials then?” Lois laughed but it was a forced laugh. She hated doing these puff pieces with all her heart. It wasn’t real reporting, it was an advertisement. Of course it was, Lex was a considerable stock holder for The Planet and he was very popular amongst a certain strain of the internet who were very choosy with where they got their news. If she didn’t cater to him, a man who knew she absolutely disdained him, she might end up out of a job. Perry had been getting more and more fed up with her antics and made sure she knew better than to fall into her standard antagonistic tendencies. That’s why she was stuck with the farm boy after all; as a punishment. She got a producer who wasn’t watching the feed, keeping track of time, or working the electrical equipment. Instead, he was keeping logs, something he didn’t even have to do, and not just because it was intern level work. 

    But Clark Kent be damned, Lois was the one in hell. She had to bare her teeth and take this punishment with a grin. Or rather, she would have, if Lex Luthor hadn’t provoked her. It was so small when he did it. The slightest change in his expression. Not even a smile, more like a glint in his eyes. Most people wouldn’t notice, in part because he gave that look to everybody. But Lois noticed. It was a look she had seen before, the kind of look that said “I own you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Oh, but there was.

    “That is the end goal, isn’t it Lex?” Lois’s voice was still as faux-chipper as it had been, but it didn’t take a Pulitzer winner to sense the change in tone. However, Lex was a consummate professional.

    “Why, uh, why yes it is.” Lex couldn’t believe it. She had forced an “uh” into his sentence, and on live television no less! The smartest man in the world did not use hesitation forms! But he could still get the upper hand with a simple; “I thought I had covered that pretty well.”

    “I was just looking for clarification before continuing.” Lois shot back. “Your end goal is to move the human race off of planet earth, in your rockets. Not NASA’s, not JAXA’s, not Roscosmos’, not the CNSA, IRSO, ESA, just LexCorp.”

    Lex knew she was circling her point. Not only was it unwise to criticize him directly, but it was more damning if he incriminated himself.

    By now even Clark was paying attention. Lois was a master of her craft and Lex was the king of getting good PR out of a bad situation. This was like watching the ‘27 Yankees play a game against the ‘75 Reds. He slowly came out from the corner of the room and approached Jimmy behind the plate.

    “Want me to cut the feed boss?” Jimmy’s voice was barely a whisper. In addition to not wanting to get picked up by the mic he was holding, Jimmy didn’t want Lois to hear him asking orders of somebody else.

    “No no,” Clark leaned into Jimmy’s ear. “Perry hasn’t said anything and this is good TV.”

    As the battle raged on, a faint smile crept onto Jimmy Olsen’s face. Mercy Graves’ face, however, was still stuck in a scowl.

    “If any of those organizations would like to offer help,” Lex responded, “They’re more than welcome but-”

    “If my notes are correct you did receive a sizable subsidization from NASA,” She was getting ready to go in for the kill. “Not to mention the ru-”

    “If you could allow me to answer your questions in full Ms. Lane.” There was open hostility in his voice. But as long as he could make Lois seem like the unreasonable one, Lex was still the victor. “I was saying the work of planet saving is impossible for one man to achieve, but the truth of the matter is that a LexCorp rocket is simply better.”

    “Better in what way?”

    Check.

    “They’re faster, more efficient, can travel farther, withstand more. They’re better in every way.”

    And mate.

    “That would be due in large part to their lithium power sources, correct? In fact, LexCorp is the largest miner of lithium on the planet, no? The planet that is “rapidly becoming unlivable”, your words, not mine.”

    She won. Hell hath frozen over and Lois Lane had beaten Lex Luthor at his own game. Everybody could see where things were heading now. There wasn’t a person on the planet who hadn’t seen a video of some stuffed shirt or businessman trying, and failing, to protect a less than moral business practice. Lex refused to be made a fool of like they had been. But the truth remained, and gave no mind to his refusals, that Lex was now caught in a death spiral with no hope of pulling up. And lo, he resorted to the nuclear option. He had to bail out.

    It was a small, almost imperceptible, tap on the side of his leg from his pinky finger. Due to the angle he was sitting at, the viewers at home would never see it. But to Mercy Graves it was like a signal flare in the night sky. Very calmly she walked over to her boss and, on camera for the world to see, whispered something in his ear.

    After waving his bodyguard away, Lex stood. Jimmy, busy with the boom mic, said a silent “thank you” to Clark for manning the camera. As Lex buttoned his blazer back up, he addressed Lois below him.

    “My apologies Lois, but it would seem I’m needed at the launch bay. There’s a slight technical malfunction and my attentions are required. All in the name of safety and progress. My bodyguard can show you out.”

    So it was that the world watched as Lex Luthor strode away.

    Mercy herself escorted the Daily Planet crew out the front door. It was a bit anticlimactic for her tastes but consciously she was aware that a civil solution was best. In her mind, that was the only problem with working for a man like Lex. On occasion she would get prepared for a fight, feel the adrenaline coursing through her, and be forced to sit on her hands. 

    If you had asked the news team however, they would tell you the whole ideal felt quite a bit less than peaceful. As they were pushed out of the building they couldn’t help but notice how closely the armed guards kept their watch. Not to mention the world renowned MMA fighter that was forcing them out. But far worse than the cold shoulder was the lack of footage. As the three walked back to their van, it escaped nobody’s mind that they were still on the hook when it came to coverage of the space launch.

    “Ya think the Navy’s in a charitable mood?” Lois mused, pointing towards the Naval Research Center beside them. “Maybe we could hitch a ride with them.”

    “Hey, maybe.” Jimmy knew she meant to be sarcastic, but what was the harm in a little optimism. “I mean, they’ve even got ol’ Connecticut heading out for a good view.”

    The USS Connecticut was, at one time, nicknamed the scourge of the sea. It was one of the greatest battleships the United States Navy had ever built. It was nigh impenetrable, faster than it had any right to be, and 45,000 tons empty. But that was a long time ago. Now it sat permanently docked in Metropolis transformed into a museum of naval history. Clark had taken a tour there, and from what he remembered, it was no longer able to move.

    “Jimmy, get your camera up,” instructed Clark. “Lois, get Perry on the phone, tell him he’s gonna want to cut to you as soon as he can, I’m gonna head back into LexCorp and see if I can’t help people get to safety.”

    “Get to safety?” Lois called out. “Clark, just what in the hell do you think is happening?”

    But he was already gone. And Lois didn’t need to wait long for her answer. As The USS Connecticut passed by the research center and brought itself fully into view, it became obvious the ship had been modified. For there sticking out the back, which had not been there before, was a giant metal key.