The Last Daughter of Krypton - IC

[Ravenloft]

Lex listened in on Emil's session with Randal. "Hmm... Interesting, emotion, that is what is waht may be keeping him together as a cohesive entity... Very good, very good indeed, Mr. Hamilton..." Lex said to himself, chuckling, pleased with the scientists progress.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Emil listened mildly, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as he took in Randal's response and fine-tuned the Geiger counter as he did so.

The counter prickled a bit in his hand as Randal spoke, prickled and crackled and clicked, and Emil nodded firmly to himself.

Because there it was.

Meteor rock gave off an extremely distinctive energy. Not alpha rays, not beta rays, not gamma rays. Not even cosmic rays.

The energy the rock emitted was its very own, but under most circumstances it was just background noise, too minor even to be noticed by the average Geiger counter. This background noise seemed harmless enough in small doses, though longterm and continuous exposure had had severely deleterious effects on the white mice he'd brought with him from Metropolis.

But under certain circumstances? Under certain intense-- but as yet difficult to define --circumstances the rock would come alive, the rock would awaken as if from a reluctant slumber and eagerly beam out its borne energies into the world around it.

Circumstances like the making of Randal Graves into a man made of verdant mist.

Circumstances like the collision that had transformed Rose McCrimmon into a psychokinetic omnitherm.

Under those circumstances, when the rock awoke, it could do bizarre and otherworldly things. Things that smacked of a greater quantum awareness than humanity yet possessed. Things that hinted at an underlying order... a Unified Theory. When the rock was awake, it could corrupt and it could purify, it could eliminate and it could transform.

And when Randal Graves spoke of feelings like excitement and fear, his gaseous form gave off the energies of meteor rock that was awake.

When he spoke of sadness and loneliness, emotions deep and resounding but debilitating and not empowering, he gave off only background noise. But when he spoke of fear, when he spoke of eagerness, he gave off sparks.

Sparks of an energy from beyond the stars.

Emil wondered, with an insatiable curiosity that raged behind his eyes, barely locked down within his skull, barely contained...

...in the spectrum of emotion, Emil wondered, if certain frequencies had greater power, greater ability to awaken the rock-essence that Randal contained within him...

...then which emotion had the greatest power of all?

He held up the wand of the Geiger counter and he narrowed his insatiably curious eyes at Randal Graves and his lips barely moved as he spoke:

"Those are all very understandable feelings," Emil agreed, "under the circumstances. Excited at a way out, sadness and loneliness and fear... but to be honest? I expected that there would be another emotion in your list. Another, perfectly understandable feeling:

"No one would blame you in the slightest, Randal," he murmured, "if you were angry. Not even angry at them who made you this way (though I'd be overmuch surprised if you weren't), but angry at The Universe. I don't know if you incorporate a concept of 'God' into your worldview, but I imagine very much that you would be angry at God for causing you to become... this.

"Are you angry, Randal? Are you... furious?"

 

[Tymeless]

Randal looked out his mist filled eyes and a grin formed on his face and then you could see a forhead and brow form on his face as anger filled his body. "Yes, I am angry, why did this have to happen to me. I am most angry at myself for putting myself in this situation, self hatred and loathing!" There was a sense of righteous anger in his voice as his body imminated more energy.

 

[TearsoftheWorld]

Kara smiled at Rose as she felt the exact same way. Adults were just... well in a different world of their own. They had cast off their younger shells and former selves in the hopes that the real world might not reject them. If there was one thing Kara wanted to do it was to hold onto every memory she had and cherish them forever. Both girls left the bar and made their way to the house, with Kara noting that Rose held her head down for the most part. She found it somewhat odd but decided it wasn't her place to ask.

"I don't know, I'm just glad we're not adults yet." she said somewhat happily.

Kara, however, did not feel the pressures and pangs like most kids her own age did. She could race around town faster than any car, so the prospect of a license didn't seem as appealing. Nor did Kara mind her curfews, and actually liked spending time with her family and helping out on the farm. She looked over at Rose whom had stopped walking, her face awestruck (more like an expression of wuh?) She followed her gaze to look at Rose's parents whom were fast approaching. She smiled politely after being shooed up to the house, opening the door and holding it open as she let Ceri and Jamie inside.

Martha came into the living room and smiled at her guests, the young woman with bright cheeks and a caring face said as she welcomed them into her home.

"Hello there. It's a pleasure to have you in our house." she said, trying to be as hospitable as possible (given such short notice).

"I was just making a few drinks in the kitchen, and you're more than welcome to have a cup of coffee or something else." she said, feeling her husbands hand touch down upon her shoulder momentarily.

 

[ChasNicollette]

The glow of Randal's form brightened almost to the point that he became a miniature emerald sun.

The Geiger counter snarled, practically growled, trembling in Emil's hand.

And Emil, despite himself, despite an overwhelming need to observe and record the events before him, to see and store every nanomoment of the goings-on for Science and for Posterity, despite himself... he closed his eyes. His closed his eyes out of reverence.

Shekinah.

Emil Hamilton did not worship a god or a God. He did not worship men, he did not worship Man.

He did not pursue the ways of Zen or of The Tao or of The Buddha.

Emil Hamilton worshiped the future.

And this? This was a window to a future most utterly beautiful.

He wondered if this would change him. He wondered if this was his time, his turn, this awakened meteor-energy sleeting through him in such a way as to awaken him.

He wondered what he would become, when it was his time. When the future, for him, became present-day. Would he still be recognisable as human? Or would he become something wholly, wholly other?

And much to his sadness, there came a voice, there came a whispering, a subconscious little musical androgynous voice at the back of his brain: You are not ready, little one. Now is not your now.

You have much yet to do, before you are ready. Before it is your now.

Emil lowered the hand that held the Geiger counter's wand, and then held up his other hand in a soothing gesture. Calming.

"How were you to know, Randal?" he asked, quite reasonably, his inflections carefully placating. "How was anyone to know, what this would do to you? You should not blame yourself. This is but random chance, Chaos Theory made manifest. Be at peace, Randal, for this place in which you find yourself, this moment, it is but the present. And the present... passes.

"I have promised you that I will make you whole again," he murmured, a gentle smile on his face and a glint in his eyes. "This will not be your present for long."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Ceri smiled brightly and gratefully at Kara as the well-mannered young woman held the door, and then she turned the full wealth of her brightest smile at Martha.

"I'm so sorry about this," she declared, releasing Jamie to clasp Martha's hand gently with one of hers. "Sorry, and thankful. (I don't even remember the last time another family invited us into their company.) I promise we'll not be in your hair for long."

"Famous last words," Jamie murmured from behind, grinning once more like he'd gotten a punchline before anyone else in the room.

Ceri fired a half-irritated, half-intrigued look over her shoulder at her ex-husband, and with the look she fired a reply: "'You'll never get me out of The Vic!'"

Jamie blinked, impressed. "Oh," he muttered. "That's very good. Very good famous last words."

Rose stood at the back of the room, having not moved far from the door when she'd let herself in, trying to draw a little bit of morale and strength off of Kara-- that is, if she didn't mind.

It's your parents' job to mortify you, Rosy, she reminded herself. Just take deep breaths.

Ceri swung her gaze back around and smiled back at Martha and Jonathan.

"Have I mentioned my family's a little bit mad around the edges?" she asked, and chuckled softly, apology clearly visible in her eyes. "Now. Coffee'll be lovely. If it's not too much trouble. (Only if it's no trouble at all, really.) Decaf for me, but regular for Jamie. He doesn't sleep, after all. Like a cross between a shark and a hummingbird: he ever stops flitting about, he'll just expire."

Jamie chuckled. "Got me pegged, she has. (Not to mention? I'm colourful and I have splendid teeth.)"

Ceri glanced over at Rose, over where Rose was busy trying to be invisible.

"But as for Rose," she suggested, "she's gone off of coffee, and it's a school night. (Since she's feeling so much better, it seems that she'll be able to attend tomorrow as normal.) Lemon-lime anything? Soda?"

"Sure," Rose murmured, stepping back to lean against the wall as if she were trying to fade back through it, to become even more invisible. "Soda's good. Lemon-lime. Sprite or something. Thanksawfullymuch."

 

[Tymeless]

Randal began to calm down when Emil promised he would make him whole again. The green light emminating from him dies down slowly to barely a glimmer of light. "Thank you Dr. do you need anything else from me?"

 

[ChasNicollette]

Emil shook his head gently.

"For now?" he smiled warmly, and ticked an instructive finger. "For now, I will work with the sample you have given me. Between that and the evidence of your emotion-triggered energy flux, you have given me plenty to consider. Feel free to disperse and to relax for a bit. I'm sure your reserves are finite, and we don't want to expend them.

"Don't go far, however. I don't intend to keep you waiting for long."

 

[Tymeless]

Randal quickly dematerialized and shut off his concious thought as to conserve his energy as he went into a sleep like state.

 

[Ravenloft]

Lex's men came back to the lab to bring Emil to see him shortly after Randal had dispersed.

Lex set out a bottle of some of his finest stock, stock he was sure would please the good doctor, and a glass for each of them, while he waited for Emil to be brought to his private study.

 

[AmenRa]

John Smith shut the screen of his lap top computer and stood. He stared out his balcony window for a few moments.

Before he realized it, he had begun to pace across the floor. He stopped, squeezing his eyes shut, taking a deep breath, and remembering who he was.

He was Var-Sen, of the House of Sen, scientist, explorer. A seeker of truth.

And the only way to now know the truth about these meteor rocks was to see one for himself.

Touch one for himself.

And if, in touching one of these things, he felt the echoes of power, the structured order of reserved energy, then he would know for sure...

... that Krypton had died. As it had been predicted. As it they had been warned. And, if as it had been foretold, it was not a quiet, winking out death, but a fiery, explosive death that would have hurled fragments of the planet across the 28 known galaxies. Even those fragments of the very crystals that gave the planet life.

And now, even though he was Kryptonian, he was without the powers of one. Powers he gave up to save another. A choice he would make again, even though the life he saved faded away many years ago. And it was because of this he felt the chill in the air as a human would, and so Var-Sen grabbed his coat and headed out the door. He got into his SUV and drove towards Smallville.

He would go to the one place where he would be most likely to put his hands on one of these meteor rocks.

The office of Smallville High's student newspaper, "The Torch".

 

[ChasNicollette]

The door swung open, and Meyer and Boyajian peered inwards. They found Emil standing there running the Geiger counter over himself.

It didn't make a sound.

However much meteor rock energy Randal Graves had beamed into the air, none of it had "stuck" to Emil in any lasting fashion. The doctor managed, with that way he had of concealing his inner contemplations and considerations, to keep his disappointment from reaching his face.

'Meteor rock energy,' he thought to himself. 'Meteor rock.' It's like 'The Big Bang,' or 'The Space Shuttle.' The name says what it is in a general sense, certainly, but it hardly identifies. This surprises me not a little, that there's not a better nomenclature for it, not a term more precisely articulate. Someone should come up with such a term.

He stood there, ignoring Meyer and Boyajian, and he thought to himself.

Maybe I should. But I've never been a creative sort. I've always had Public Relations consultants for that manner of activity.

He glanced down, then, at the Geiger wand he held in his hand, squinted his bespectacled blue eyes at the thing.

As kept with the basic design of Geiger counters in general, this was a Geiger-Müller tube, filled with an inert noble gas. Commonly, these devices utilised neon or argon or helium, but this one?

Emil muttered to himself as he read the chemical symbol engraved on the tube: "Krypton."

It was catchy but there was something missing and besides which it was already taken and it sounded not unlike a thing used in "extreme sports." Safety gear or that ilk. Emil Hamilton was not a creative sort.

Meyer cleared his throat.

Emil whirled to look at them like he had been composing a sonnet, and like they had interrupted his penultimate lyric.

Boyajian beckoned. "Mister Luthor."

Emil arched a grim eyebrow, subduing his frustration almost instantly as he set the Geiger counter back down. "Oh? And what about him?"

Meyer gestured to the hallway. "He'd like to have a word with you, Doctor."

"Hnh," Emil rolled his sleeves back down, and smiled thinly. "I'd just wager he would."

He gestured to the doorway, as he buttoned his cuffs, and that smile grew even thinner. "Well, then. 'Lay on, MacDuffs.'"

Meyer turned and walked, and Emil brushed past Boyajian to follow.

Boyajian, then, after a moment, brought up the rear.

"'Lead on,'" he mumbled. "Thought it was 'lead on, MacDuff.'"

Emil Hamilton rolled his eyes, and shook his head. And didn't bother to correct him.

In fact, none of them said another word until they reached Lex's study, and Emil stalked silently in.

Meyer and Boyajian stood out in the hallway for a moment, as was their wont. Meyer turned to Boyajian, patted him on the trunk-thick upper arm, smiled encouragingly. "Synonymous."

Boyajian nodded, visibly encouraged. "Figured as much."

Once inside, Emil took a seat and eyed the bottle of alcohol.

"Château Lafite Rothschild," he read aloud, bemused and intrigued. "1847? That's the sort of rare vintage one reserves for celebrations, Mister Luthor. Are we... celebrating something?"

 

[Ravenloft]

Lex chuckled lightly as he leaned forward, uncorking the bottle. Without a word, he poured for the two of them. "You are very gracious, both for coming and for complimenting my stock. For a man of your stature, I should be serving the blood of christ himself, I should think. I trust my facilities meet with your approval?" Lex asked as he raised his glass to Emil, first sniffing it, then taking the smallest of sips, before rolling it about his tongue.

 

[ChasNicollette]

"My stature, Mr. Luthor," Emil murmured, accepting the profferred wine glass and swirling the wine therein as he pondered and pondered, "is a topic of much debate among my peers. Almost as much debate rages regarding my stature within the scientific community as does regarding the nature of transubstantiation within the theological community."

He took a sip.

He tasted it thoroughly, in the manner of a connoisseur, and nodded appreciatively before swallowing. Exquisite.

"It is somewhat frowned upon," he continued, "in the circles wherein once I moved, to throw caution to the wind, abandon a position of salary and tenure, and chase down what some would call the fever dream of a failing mind."

Emil Hamilton would never pay a single word of their heckling the slightest heed.

He had his reasons. He had his reasons.

"This is almost as frowned upon," he smiled faintly, "among Men of Science, as believing that wine can become the blood of a Saviour after a few whispered words. Almost."

He took another sip, this one larger.

"Are you a believer, Lex?" Emil smirked. "I don't peg you for one, but the belief in Science does not necessarily exclude Faith of some kind or another. I imagine that given what you've seen the last day or so, a little transubstantiation is tame by comparison. You've skipped right over transubstantiation, after all, and gone straight to transfiguration."

Emil leaned forward, and gazed down into the recesses of his glass as he considered the remainder of his response.

"I have not seen the majority of your facilities," Emil assured Lex, "as your... flying monkeys ...made sure to impress upon me the urgency of my arrival. Thus far, however, I have not been disappointed.

"I would be interested to know, in the meantime," Emil wondered, after another sip, "what you were expecting to provide me in the way of remuneration. I have to admit that I have a proviso or two in that vein. Perhaps more than two."

 

[TearsoftheWorld]

Martha returned the smile Ceri gave her and shook her head.

"It's perfectly alright. You can stay here as long as you'd like." she responded, trying to put her at ease. Jonathan nodded his head in agreement with his wife, his hand resting upon her shoulder. If there was one thing, though, that they could take out of this small social gathering it was that watching Jamie and Ceri go at each other could probably make for a good sit-com.

Martha glanced up at her husband and he politely excused himself, making his way to the kitchen to fetch the coffee. Martha nodded towards the couch and a few chairs for them to sit down in.

"So," Martha started, "what brings you out to the farm?" she asked, hoping her question would be taken more as an opener for casual conversation rather than an inquisition. For the most part the only ones to come to the farm were there to pick up deliveries of fresh produce. Kara had a few (and by few that was approximately little-to-none) friends that came by once in a while. For the most part, however, she lived a rather 'quiet' life.

Jonathan came back into the living room a short while later with a few cups of steaming coffee, each catered to meet any individual tastes/desires. Kara smiled at Rose as they stood off to the side. Seeing as how this was more of an adult conversation she nodded towards the stairwell, suggesting she and Rose head up there.

 

[Ravenloft]

"A religion based on servitude, who's figure head is a slave and a masochist?" Lex shook his head, chuckling. "No, the only belief I have is in myself. And perhaps you, Mr. Hamilton. I shall arange a tour of these facilities for you, in time, and whatever you need, I shall see provided for you, you have but to ask. First though, perhaps you could tell me if Mr. Graves can be returned to normal?"

 

[ChasNicollette]

"So," Martha started, "what brings you out to the farm?"

Ceri shot Jamie a sly expression as they sat down on the couch. Close enough together so as to appear civil, but not so close as to incur any accidental, awkward physical contact. She shot him a look, wondering if he'd be up front about the lack of awareness that had gotten him lost and then found again in entirely the wrong place.

"Erm," Jamie hesitated, and grinned altogether sheepishly as he tugged on his ear. "Well, you might call it fortuitous happenstance, really. I was compiling a small handwritten compendium, words of wisdom for the daughter as she starts her high school career? For some reason I write best when I'm pacing, and this time? I forgot that pacing involves turning around. So I paced to your driveway before I realised what I was on about. Erm. Sorry again."

Ceri grinned. She was proud of him for admitting his mistake so up front like that. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

Maybe.

She shook her head, and smiled her smile at Martha, brushing a fringe of raven-dark hair out of her face.

"I'm here, meanwhile," Ceri smiled, "because coming to fetch him was less troublesome than filing a Missing Persons Report with Sheriff Miller's office. (Poor Ethan's got enough on his plate, after all.)"

"'When constabulary duty's to be done, to be done,'" Jamie pontificated with wry recitation, "'a policeman's lot is not a happy one.'"

Rose leaned against the wall and watched this exchange, distracted to no small degree by the mention of that collection of "words of wisdom." There was something positively fatherly about that sort of gesture, and her dad had never been good at being fatherly.

Even recently, during this second chance at having both parents, Jamie Hamilton had often been more excited by the scientific implications of her abilities than by teaching her what to do with them.

Her best bit of advice thus far had come not from either parent, but from a comic book. That old, well-worn adage about "great power" and "great responsibility." Of course, this had been a J. Michael Straczynski riff on that selfsame adage, and there had been a follow-up line... an old wise man wondering what came with great responsibility.

That bothered Rose, too. "With great power comes great responsibility." But then what?

Then, of course, Jonathan Kent returned with mugs akimbo and Kara nudged Rose with a knowing smile, indicating that they should make themselves scarce.

Rose took one last look at her father, and then at her mother, and then back at Kara. She nodded, with a grin, and took the stairs two at a time with that same surprisingly featherlight gait.

When she got to the top, she turned and beamed back down at Kara...

"Good call, Double-K," she murmured, eyes glinting. "We ain't grown-ups yet, like you said. No reason we should loiter about listening to the talk of grown-ups, not when we've better things to do."

She paused, then.

"So, um," and she glanced about, trying to orient herself. "What did you want to do?"

 

[ChasNicollette]

Emil drained the rest of his glass before answering, and set the glass down.

He seemed to go far away for a moment, the blues behind his spectacles swirling with a mix of contemplations.

Was he doing the right thing?

It had all seemed so pure and right, eschewing the mainstream and obeying the mandates of his scientific curiosity no matter the cost.

But the cost had been dear to his brother's ex-wife, his brother's daughter, his tireless pursuit of tantalising, death-defying mysteries had cost them dearly financially and emotionally.

Here he was, in a place where he could, ostensibly, continue those pursuits in a manner that was not financially draining to those of his family but which could, potentially, be of great benefit to them in that respect. He was still chasing down his fever dream, but now he was getting paid for it.

But did Luthor really understand?

No, no, of course not. Lex didn't believe in The Future. Lex believed only in himself.

Lex couldn't even be bothered to call Emil by his proper honorific. (All those Ph.D's, and Luthor still called him "Mr." Hamilton. Infuriating.)

But perhaps the benefits outweighed the costs. And even if they didn't, Emil Hamilton was a smart man. Perhaps he could turn even the costs to his advantage.

"My considered opinion, Mister Luthor," Emil replied, coming back to The Present, "is that Mister Graves' condition is entirely reversible. Consider the ancient myths of The Metamorphae, for instance, elemental warriors spawned by the mystical Orb of Ra.

"If a god can turn men into elementals," Emil smirked softly, "then certainly men can apply themselves, undo the work of gods, and change elementals back into men. This, to me, is just logical."

He tapped his chin with metal fingers, and he pondered somewhat.

"It'll take some doing," he admitted. "I'll have to make some very specific calculations regarding the energetic cascade that converted his matter thusly, but once that cascade is more fully understood, causing Randal Graves' molecules to fall back into line will be only a matter of time."

 

[AmenRa]

Var-Sen considered he could have just as easily driven to Smallville in the morning and arrived when class takes in at Smallville High. He wasn't entirely sure why he arrived there tonight, but as he checked into a small, quiet motel, he thought it might have been because by being here now he felt closer to the answers he sought.

A terrible answer to a terrible question. But, if his theory was correct, and the 'meteor rocks' were actually fragments of his homeworld, then his question would be answered. And he would know the truth: Krypton was no more.

On his homeworld, the technology of crystals was employed. Crystals were used to construct buildings, weapons, industrial centers, spacecraft, and even as power sources. It was the power source crystals that had been foretold would ultimately bring about Krypton's destruction. Although they were kept secure near the planet's core, it was surmised they were not secure enough. Zor-El and his brother, Jor-El, had warned the Council to strengthen their defense forces. They had warned them that the renegade General Zod and his minions would seek to gain control of the Brain InterActive Construct that governed the usage of the Power Crystals, and ultimately hold Krypton's major cities; Kryptonopolis, Kandor, and Argo City, for ransom.

Var-Sen had a sinking feeling that the Council had not listened. But wait, Zod had been imprisoned within the Phantom Zone. Perhaps he escaped? Or, perhaps he caused irreversible damage before he was imprisoned.

Whatever the case, whatever had happened, Var-Sen knew Krypton was destroyed. He no longer saw the red sun of the distant galaxy in the night sky. He now had no way to return home, as he had no home to go to. He would spend the rest of his days here, on this adopted alien world, living as a human, living without the powers granted to him by a yellow sun.

He wondered if anyone else would have managed to survive?

What of the yellow sun? What effect would the yellow sun have on a crystal that carried Krypton's power source? The scientist in Var-Sen listened carefully as his conscious mind began to go over consequences. He knew Earth's yellow sun could indeed amplify the powers of the crystals and possibly cause mutations in non-Kryptonians. This would explain a great many things he had read so far. But what effect would they have on a Kryptonian?

Var-Sen considered this, as well. To a true Kryptonian, the meteor rocks, the fragments of the planet Krypton, the "Kryptonite" as it were, would be poisonous, possibly even deadly.

As he laid his head on a pillow, knowing sleep would not come to him, he thought about the next day when he would at last have the answers he sought. When he would visit the high school paper classroom and inquire about the one...what was her name...ah, yes...Sullivan. She would know where these meteor rocks were. She may even have one.

And then Var-Sen would know for sure. And, if all was as he thought, he would know that to be a Kryptonian on Earth meant to be one thing:

Alone.

 

[Ravenloft]

"Ah, in that case, allow me to make the process infinately easier." Lex said with a cryptic smile as he jestured for his men to re-enter. "Gentlemen, please take the good Doctor to see the machine Mr. Graves got too close to. And Doctor, I trust you will use the utmost discression reguarding what you are about to see?" Lex said, still smiling in a way that spoke of dire consequences if he did not.

 

[Superman1496]

Bruce awoke again. He did not know what time it was. But he couldn't sleep. Alfred was gone. He was alone, in the darkness. He arose from his bed, and walked to the window. The moonlight lighting up the property.

Bruce thought of his parents. He didn't know why, but their picture appeared in his head. Guilt hit him like a frieght train. He knew what happened the night they died. He knew why they left the theater.

His fear of bats. His fear that made him the most lonliest person on earth. Bruce stood there, in the light of the magnificent moon. His fathers words, ringing in his head. Bruce, don't be afraid. The fear of creatures such as bats, are only psychological. Bats fear you more then you fear them.

But he did not listen to his father, and the cost was their lives. Bruce walked out into the hallway. Down the corridor into a room with a bag hanging from the ceiling, Kindo sticks, Fencing gear, and padded mats.

Bruce's guilt overwhelmed him. He began to abuse the bag. He picked up a pair of small kindo sticks, and began to beat them across the bag. Pictures of his parents, lying in the middle of the street ran through his head. Pictures of the bastard who shot them, pictures of the kids from school, and pictures from his dream.

All of these drove his anger. The sticks smacked across the bag material. He did not stop. He could not stop.

Bruce's mind fled from conscious thought, only to return when he heard the clearing of a throat come from behind him. He turned to see a man, never seen before, staring at him. One hand in the pocket of his slacks, the other stroking the hair on his chin.

Your anger consumes you, young Mr. Wayne. The man said. Still stroking his hair. You have a lot of potential. But you are blinded by anger and guilt. He continued.

And who are you? Bruce asked, curious as to who the gentleman standing in his house was. And how do you know who I am, and what's going on?

Someone like you is known throughout the United States. I happen to know a lot about you. I can feel your guilt, and I can feel your anger. My name is not important. You will find out soon enough. But I do want to teach you. The stranger said.

Teach me what? Bruce asked.

Teach you to control your anger. To use your energy. I can teach you things you can use to your advantage towards those who deserve punishment.

You want me to become a vigilante? Bruce asked.

No, not a vigilante. Vigilante's are people who take the law into their own hands, and attack for vengance. I'm mearly suggesting, punishment to those who need it, and the protection for those who can't fight for themselves. A "dark knight", if you will.

Bruce stood there for a moment and thought about it.

When do we begin? He asked.

The night is still young. We can begin now, seeing as how you are already in the mood.

Bruce looked at the stranger. The man smiled. Bruce's spirits raised, if only a little.

 

[TearsoftheWorld]

To be a Kryptonian on Earth meant to be one thing:
Alone
---​

Kara scratched her head when Rose asked why they were upstairs and now down below. Well... to get away from the adults seemed like a plausible reason. But the question now was what should they do next?

"Honestly I have no idea. I just didn't want to be downstairs anymore." Kara said as she looked around. There wasn't too much to do upstairs... not in the Kent's house, at any rate.

"My house can be pretty boring." she added with a smile, pushing the door to her bedroom open. A twin-size bed rest up against the wall beneath a window and sunlight poured inside and covered the sheets, giving off a bit of warmth. A dresser with some pictures and a mirror were off to the side, and her desk was pressed up against another wall. Though she slept up here Kara spent most of her time in the barn, up in the loft.

Lifting up her window, Kara felt a gust of cool air fill the room.

"Come on, let's head outside." she suggested, hoisting herself outside and onto the roof. This was actually kind of fun. Kara hardly ever spent time with anyone except her parents. Scanning the area all Kara could see was the barn, their dirt road and cars, and for what seemed like miles upon miles were stalks of corn and other fields.

This was Smallville, after all. Meteor capital of the world and a whole lot of farmland. This once small and unimportant town in Kansas was suddenly a thriving center of commerce and tourism. People from all over came to see the famous meteor rocks that had rained destruction down upon its inhabitants. The military, of course, had set up a tiny little base of operations, suspecting that something was afoot. Even LexCorp wanted a piece of whatever was going on in Smallville.

Only two humans knew what the real secret was, and they were downstairs drinking coffee.

===

Martha smiled at Jamie and then at Ceri. The dark haired woman seemed to act as a sort of guide for a rather lost child, picking up after his messes and making sure all was right in the end. Martha lost count how many times Jonathan and herself had to clean up the messes left by Kara...

"It's really no trouble having you over. You're more than welcome to stop by whenever you'd like. I'm sure Kara wouldn't mind hanging out with Rose." Martha added, noting that her adopted daughter had run off with her friend upstairs. Though she was afraid of someone discovering her abilities, Martha so wanted Kara to have a somewhat normal life. One day she'd leave the farm and start her own life, and to do that she had to be prepared. Social inadequacies would only impede on her chances to succeed.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Emil

Emil's eyes glinted. His title was back in place, and all was as it should be.

Dire consequences?

"Discretion?" he examined the fingertips of his metallic hand, wiggled them distractedly. "Why, Mister Luthor, I will be the very soul of discretion. Have you not heard of doctor-patient confidentiality?"

He could play the game with the best of them. Dire consequences were of little consequence to him.

At Lex's beckoning, Meyer and Boyajian rejoined their boss and the scientist.

Meyer was five-foot-six, slender, with close-cropped blond hair. For his lack of size and girth, however, he seemed no less intimidating. There was a lot of power tucked away in that slight frame, and his ever-studious eyes were always watching.

But where Meyer hid his strength in plain sight, Boyajian wore his for all to see.

Boyajian was bald, like a certain youthful billionaire mastermind, and stood a full foot and a half taller than Meyer. He had muscles that would make certain professional linebackers think twice about messing with him, if not three times.

And when Lex called, these men answered. Without question. Without hesitation.

"Come with us, please, Doctor Hamilton," Meyer suggested, and gestured to the door. "The machine in question is upstairs in the Special Projects Division."

Boyajian nodded firmly, his basso voice lending an ominous tone to his words, whether he intended it or not: "Level Three."

Emil smiled curtly. "Show me."

And away they went, leaving Lex to his wine and his thoughts.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Rose

Rose grinned, a disbelieving but good-natured grin, marveling anew at Kara's bravery. Flitting across rooftops in such a manner was a thing generally reserved for ninja or cyberpunk femmes fatales or lovable brutish monsters played by Ron Perlman.

Kara stood out there awash with cool breezes and the fading light of day, and while Rose felt that requisite trill of fear, there was also a sense of derring-do. Of great import.

How could she remain afraid of the dark, if she could make firelight?

How could she remain afraid of falling, if she could fly?

Her father would likely call this a "curious dichotomy."

Her mother, meanwhile...

Ceri had suggested a thing to Rose that had given her pause, while they had been sitting and talking and Jamie had been out writing and wandering.

Ceri had suggested giving this a try: Whenever you find yourself afraid of a situation or a possibility, turn your imagination to work. See if you can't imagine an alternative that makes you feel more afraid.

Take going to school, for instance. You're afraid of what people will think of you. You're socially anxious.

But let's say you did every day what you did today. What would happen then? Is there something that would result from this, that makes you more afraid than you are of going to school in the first place?

Rose had not said anything at first.

But now she did, just a tiny breath of a murmur, barely audible even to herself: "I'm afraid of being left behind."

She climbed out onto the roof beside Kara, and she found her footing there. She crouched at first, hands to either side of herself, unwilling to take another step.

But then? She rose.

She straightened and she stood and she held her arms out to her sides, both for balance and to feel the cool breeze filter through her fingers.

She could feel gravity and tension in her legs but the wind wrapped gently around her and wore the dread away.

"'I wanna have the same last dream again,'" she sang softly, grinning as her crimson-kissed hair wafted and lashed around her face, "'the one where I wake up, and I'm alive.'"

 

[ChasNicollette]

Ceri and Jamie

Ceri pondered.

For all his flaws and faults when interacting with people, Jamie had a strong moral code. And he was smart, he was so smart. You put him in a room with the smartest ten people in the world, he could outsmart eight of them.

So, yes, Jamie was not unlike a lost child. But that was when he was out of his element.

Credit where credit was due: as much as Jamie floundered when faced with conversing with perfectly normal intelligent beings (Turing tests notwithstanding), he skyrocketed when dealing with that which was abnormal, that which was paranormal.

(And he certainly wasn't as robotic with people as was his brother. Also to his credit.)

"Rose is particularly fond of spending time in her little world," Jamie pointed out. "Not that that's a bad thing, really. Only it's nice to know that when she does choose to visit realms outside her own, there's a fine upstanding citizen not far down the road with whom she might gallivant awhile."

"This is true!" Ceri chimed in, gesturing grandly to The Kents. "You two have done a fine job raising your Kara. Holding the door for us like that? It's the little things, isn't it?"

"Not always just the little things," Jamie raised an instructive finger. "When that shadowy bloke did his disappearing act, Kara came darting in, her first concern for the safety of others."

"And there you have it, then," Ceri chuckled. "Rose could certainly do worse when it comes to choosing people to spend time with, to model her behaviour after."

"Certain tabloid-friendly heiresses come to mind," Jamie muttered sardonically, eyes half-lidded, a wicked quirking at the corners of his mouth.

Ceri slugged him in the arm without looking, and while Jamie rubbed the spot where she'd hit him, he grinned all the more wickedly.

"Can I just say?" Ceri murmured, more seriousness returning to her voice, made all the more intriguing by the musical, almost celestial intonations of her accent. "I knew you lot would be good people even before I met you. The very reason Rose and I moved to Smallville is because my great-uncle, Dai McCrimmon, left me his little house here when he passed away. He was a fastidious keeper of journals, he was, and many are the entries where he praises a man named Hiram Kent. I can only assume this was a relative? Uncle Dai had nothing for respect for the man."