The Last Daughter of Krypton - IC

[Superman1496]

Mr. Smith drew a picture of some symbols from the cave, and held them up to Chloe and Bruce.

I've already told you just about all I know about these. Bruce said. Now what do you want? He added.

Chloe stood in front of him. She merely turned to see what Smith was doing. But she kept her eyes mainly on Bruce. Bruce grabbed the paper from Smith's hand. And placing one hand on Chloe's shoulder as he walked around her, he sat in the chair next to Smith.

There was something about these symbols that looked familiar. Strangly familiar. He could't make anything out, but he felt as if he had seen them before. As if in some sort of dream.

I think that it was more of a coincidince that Ducard sent me into that cave this morning. And I don't believe in fate so much, but I think that it's more then mere chance we all happen to be here. As if we're all looking for something in common. The answers to something. Bruce said. He knew that he sounded rediculous, a high school sophomore, talking to freshmen and a librarian, as if he was Frued himself.

I've seen these before, Mr. Smith. I don't remember where, or why, but I have. Bruce said. He looked up at Chloe, who had turned to look back at him and Mr. Smith.

Bruce knew why Smith was here though. Not to talk to anyone, but Chloe. There was a possibility that he wanted to talk with Bruce as well, but after drawing the picture, Bruce knew that Chloe was his main focus.

But why?

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Kyle

Chloe was right. I was walking dangerously close to the edge. And a cape??? Please!
Mr. Smith busting in was a distraction, but he was an adult, and from my knowledge adults rarely paid attention to kids.
Bruce and Rose were another matter entirely.
" Chloe, Rose, I'm sorry I flew off the handle a bit. All this happened over four years ago, but little things can bring back the pain. Trust me when I say a life is the most precious gift given to us, and I would never take one."
I Looked down at my watch and noticed I was ten minutes late for my next class!!"
"CRAP! OK, I gotta jet. I'm late. Chloe, get with me during lunch and I'll give you an off-the-record scoop on everything I can. Rose, it was great meeting you, and I hope I get to see you again sometime. Bruce, we need to talk later."
I scribbled down my home number (Gramps didn't believe in teenagers with cell phones).
"call me later and we can meet up. I have some info on the third member of our Smallville Boys Club that may interest you."
With that I was out the door and off to my next class. Second day of school, things just keep getting better and better.

 

[Superman1496]

And with that, Kyle was gone. He was late for his next class, and Bruce hadn't even gone to any of his classes yet. It didn't bother him though. Bruce felt that talking with Mr. Smith just might be a little more important then history. Then it hit him.

Kara.

He had forgotten about her. More importantly, he had forgotten how he unwilling ditched her, and wound up in her house. 'I have to go and talk with her. Make sure everything is ok. That's a lot of stuff to handle in one night for a freshman girl.' Bruce thought to himself. Then he remembered more.

Rose.

She was at the Kent farm last night, wasn't she? Talking with Kara? Maybe she would know if Kara was upset or something.

Didn't I see you at the Kent farm last night, Rose? Bruce asked. He remembered, what he assumed was her father, being a little odd in the barn while Bruce was trying to help out Mr. Kent.

Didn't you and your mother go and pick up your dad last night? Bruce asked. There seemed to be a lot more to this Rose girl then just a strange uncle. The name McCrimmon rang a bell in his head as well. He just couldn't place it.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Rose and Chloe

Chloe smiled gently at Bruce. Talk about this later was as good for her silence as "off the record," and less disheartening than those three killer words. Talk about this later at least had promise to it.

But then Professor Smith drew his little picture, and he held it aloft, and it was like a dash of cold water in the face. His little picture was a reminder that while she'd been dallying with mysterious strangers and hilariously capacious jump drives, she'd forgotten about The Big Picture.

Kyle darted off, but not before he made a solemn vow regarding the sanctity of life. And that gave Chloe hope a little. That boy had just been a big ball of anger waiting to pop, and the fact that he still demonstrated such morality-- if only on paper --made Chloe also feel a little better.

On top of this? He'd trusted Chloe Sullivan, notorious whistle-blower, with a potentially life-shattering secret. And while she couldn't publish this, like, ever? Because of those three little words? He'd still felt comfortable enough with her that he told her in the first place. And that was something. That was something indeed.

She examined those glyphs, and she made for her laptop, extricating it from its bag and powering it up even as she turned the camcorder back on.

She pursed her lips, glared at the picture, muttered softly to herself, and then proceeded to dig around in a cabinet for a DV cable.

"I haven't had a chance, yet," she admitted, "to crossref the cave images or attempt to crack their pattern. (Kind of a lot's happened since then.) And I should have Googled those terms on the way back to school but I always get nauseous when I type on the road. I met a sophomore with rage issues and an eager-to-please freshman with a foot in her mouth..."

She got the file transfer going between the camcorder and the laptop, and started calling up a couple of translation algorithms. (She wasn't sure if any of these would work, she might have to write a whole new one-- and wouldn't that take a while --but, hey, best to rule out what she had.)

"I'd've thought you'd be buried in 'many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore' by now," Chloe chuckled, leaning back in her chair and eying Professor Smith and his freshly-sketched images. "Or is this you paying me back for Glenn Close-ing you earlier?"

Rose had watched Kyle go with a sort of wistful worry. He really was a beautiful guy. He was just...

He was just scary. Maybe when Rose had discovered new reserves of bravery, she could consider asking him to a Sadie Hawkins or somesuch.

But not until. But not until.

And The Librarian was presenting Chloe with some sort of secret message, and Rose walked around him to get a closer look at them, though she was careful to not block anyone else's line of sight. She tilted her head, her artfully-arranged forelock swinging like a ruby pendulum between her eyes...

What is that? she wondered to herself. What is that? I mean, Science is one thing, but this is like, crypto... crypto... crypto-iconography, or some crazy crap.

Bruce made noises like he had seen those pictures before, and that he knew something about them, but Rose still felt like a rookie at The B.P.R.D. and even the useless albino psychic was better informed than she was.

Some reporter, she sighed dejectedly. Five minutes I've had the job even provisionally, and I've already bit off more than I can chew.

But then Bruce was being philosophical, and Rose remembered a conversation she'd had with her father once on the drive back to Smallville from a Christmastime visit to Keystone.

Her dad didn't believe in predestination. He believed that men, to a certain extent, determined their own "destiny."

("'I do not believe in a fate that falls on men however they act;'" he had quoted, from Chesterton, "'but I do believe in a fate that falls on them unless they act.'")

But he'd often flirted, he'd explained, with the philosophical concept of synchronicity, if for no other reason than so many scientific advances had been stumbled upon simply by accident. Penicillin, for instance.

And she wondered about that, quietly to herself.

Was everyone being here an event born of synchronicity? Was this place really a crossroads of Eternity?

If so, why was she here? What purpose did she serve? What element was she in the compound?

Or maybe she was just extraneous. Superfluous. "One of these things is not like the others."

But then Bruce was talking again and talking to her, and she whirled to look at him with a little bit of surprise. The mystery lad with the rampant imagination and the Freudian insights and the dragonslayer eyes and the... very charming smile... was talking to her.

She turned a little pink around the edges.

"Didn't I see you at the Kent farm last night, Rose?" Bruce asked.

She blinked, startled. "I was... I was there. But I didn't see you? Did you see me? I would have remembered seeing you."

"Didn't you and your mother go and pick up your dad last night?" Bruce asked.

Oh! Oh, he was just being oblique. He'd not seen her, but he'd known she was there through inference and implication. He was just... he was just maybe being roundabout in saying so. She didn't really understand his mode of speech. Maybe he'd O.D.'d on philosophy at some point in his life and everything he said nowadays was some kind of Zen koan or jakugo?

That was cool. She could dig Zen.

'I only know a snowflake cannot exist in a storm of fire,' she remembered. From... somewhere?

(Her mother? Why would her mother be quoting Zen aphorisms? But, yeah, she distinctly remembered hearing that sentence in her mother's lyrical Welsh accent. Odd.)

Sheepishly, as she wrapped both hands around the tip of her braid and hung on for dear nervous life, she replied aloud: "Yeah," she nodded. "Yeah, I was at The Kent Farm last night. My dad got himself lost and we-- me and my mum, that's Ceri McCrimmon --had to go get him. (Did you meet my dad? God, I hope he wasn't... weird. My dad is so weird. Did he quote poetry at you? He's always doing that.)"

She paused, and she thought this over, and her face kind of scrunched up as she thought in a way that was potentially adorable...

"D'you know Kara, then?" she wondered. "I hung out with her some last night, and she invited me back over tonight, but she hasn't shown up today... have you heard from her? D'you know if she's okay?

"(I really hope she's okay,)" Rose whispered worriedly. "(She's too nice for bad stuff to happen to her.)"

 

[Superman1496]

As Chloe worked her magic on her computer, Bruce kept on talking about stupid things that made him feel forty or something.

Rose turned pink as he started talking to her. I haven't seen her since I was found half naked in her kitchen. I haven't gone to class yet, but I think that she is in my next class, whichever one that is. Bruce said, flashing a smile at her. For some reason, she seemed really nervous. She kept going on about her dad at the farm last night.

Bruce laughed.

She was cute, very cute. And she reminded him of a girl that he once knew, a long time ago...

Turning back to Chloe, who kept switching from looking at the computer, to Mr. Smith, to him. I feel ridiculous Chloe. I don't know what any of those symbols really means, or why I'm here in the first place. Bruce admitted. He felt out of place, but hoped that he could at least prove useful. He wanted to stay with Chloe at least.

Bruce went and sat down in between Chloe and Rose. He pulled out his cell phone to check the time. Class was going to start in a couple minutes. Oh well, if he was some help here, it could be much more important then being in History class, or whatever.

He just hoped that he wasn't just being in the way. He almost felt as if they didn't need him, or really want him here.

Two reporters and a college librarian. And you throw a billionare teenager in the mix.

Bruce did his math, and two plus two was not equaling four.

Why was he here?

 

[AmenRa]

John Smith, Ph.D., looked directly at Chloe. Without emotion, and as matter-of-factly as he could state, said, "Don't bother trying to translate the geometrical symbols. Those are an alien language that is a thousand years more advanced than anything you've ever seen on this world.

"It's the other symbols, the Kawatche symbols, that I'm interested in."

 

[Superman1496]

Bruce stood at about 6 foot, around 175 lbs., or somewhere around there, and could carry his own pretty well.

But the wind was knocked out of him by Mr. Smiths words.

Alien symbols, not of this earth. And he knew that. How?

Bruce kept his cool. A confused look came upon his face, but he kept his statue. He looked at Mr. Smith, and then to Chloe.

I think that we deserve some answers first, before we do you a favor with this. Bruce said.

 

[AmenRa]

"Answers, indeed, Mr. Wayne," Smith said. He stood and walked to a window, then turned and placed his hands in his slacks pockets, then leaned against a desk.

"Think about where you've seen the symbols before. Think hard, concentrate. When you remember where you've seen them before, your answers will come quicker than you wish, I believe."

Smith looked over Chloe's shoulder.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Rose and Chloe

Chloe, to her credit, took this news rather well.

John Smith, Ph.D., liked to drop intellectual bombshells. Some might say it was his stock in trade. And each one of those bombshells was, to Chloe, not unlike a punch in the stomach. John Smith would haul off, and he would slug her in the gut.

But a smart person who gets punched the same way often enough by the same person learns how to take the hit. And, of course, she'd been hit by this exact same punch back in the cave.

She blinked at him, there as he leaned over her shoulder, and she arched an eyebrow.

"You work at CKU," she pondered. "Professor Willowbrook is one of your colleagues, and even if his busy schedule didn't permit your conversing with him extensively, I'm sure his teaching assistant Jeremiah Holdsclaw would be more than educated enough to suffice. Between the two of them, they're practically a Rosetta Stone for Kawatche glyphs. So why come to us?

"Bruce may have an allergic reaction to detective work," she continued, darting a teasing smirk in Bruce's direction, "but that doesn't render his point any less valid. You could go to much better people to get those glyphs translated. You seem to go out of your way to discourage speculation regarding extraterrestrials. 'Don't translate the language, Miss Sullivan,' 'the meteor-rocks are just space jetsam, Miss Sullivan, don't be cooky, Miss Sullivan, they've got no extranormal properties.' Maybe you don't want your collegiate co-workers cottoning to your delving into local mysteries. Almost definitely, you know more about these supposed 'extrasolar intelligences.' Either way, it strikes me that you have secrets to keep, and generally the keeping of secrets necessitates the divulging of a pertinent datum or two."

Professor Smith was there right next to her, and Chloe swiveled her chair about so that she could get a better look at him. He was too old for her, but she didn't doubt that if she were of a different age range she'd find him intriguingly handsome.

But she wasn't, and instead of finding him intriguingly handsome she found him aggravating and gut-wrenchingly flabbergasting.

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest and put on her very very best 'isn't this interesting' look, locking her eyes onto John Smith's, and very nearly matching his gaze's infamous intensity.

"Quit throwing us breadcrumbs, Professor," she demanded, "and try throwing us a bone, instead."

Rose, on the other hand? (She didn't even get a chance to think about Bruce half-naked, though her subconscious would likely revisit this notion later.)

In the third quarter of The Twentieth Century, a handful of scientists speculated about-- and eventually accidentally discovered --"cosmic microwave background radiation," energies both pervasive and evenly distributed across the sky. The implications of this discovery have been hotly debated by cosmologists of every creed and stripe, though many accept the theory that this energy is left over from the detonation of The Big Bang, still lingering in The Universe billions of years later.

When Rose McCrimmon heard that the mystery script on the walls of the cave was extrasolar in origin, a strange sensation overcame her. Her fingers trembled, and her pupils dilated and, in the back of her brain, in the hollows of her soul, she heard the hiss and the hum of radiation left over from the dawn of time. She felt... connected... to something much older and deeper and smarter than herself.

(She wondered if this was how her Uncle Em felt about the meteor rocks, and that bothered her a little.)

There was a measure of vindication here. Because she had always thought that a Universe with aliens in it was much more believable than a Universe without aliens. She'd heard of the anthropic principle, commonly embraced by Creationists as the strongest indication that humans were custom-made by an otherdimensional Intelligence based on the sheer mathematical unlikelihood of conditions on Earth being suitable for Earth's presently predominant form of life.

(If The Earth were, after all, any closer to The Sun, or any further away, the temperature would be all wrong. If The Earth's magnetic field were any stronger or any weaker... on and on.)

Unlike other science-minded individuals, Rose McCrimmon did not automatically discount the Creationist point of view, solely because Science could only specifically prove things that could be observed and repeated and quite frankly it would be difficult to observe the making of The Universe without a particularly good mode of time travel (and wasn't that a whole 'nother speculative ballgame?), therefore Science could make no true law regarding the medium of The Universe's assembly.

She did, however, believe that thinking humans were the only life in The Universe was the cosmological equivalent of an ethnocentric map. It was limiting and limited and to presume that Earthers were the optimal entities in this world was the height of arrogance. It put humanity on a pedestal which, in Rose's opinion, would be largely undeserved.

Life existed in the extremes of Earth's environments, from altitudes thousands of feet above The Earth's surface to volcanic vents in the fathoms-deep ocean floor. Who was to insist that life, that Life, could not exist on other worlds, under other types of sunlight, under other gravitational pulls? Presumption, that's all that was.

To hear that other life existed in The Universe, other intelligent life? This, to Rose, was like shaking Santa Claus' mitten-clad hand, or hearing Beethoven's Lost Symphony, or getting to run your fingertips over a signed original copy of the actual Biblical Ten Commandments.

Rose heard an echo of The Big Bang at the back of her brain as she reflected on the symbols John Smith had drawn, and she whispered, "I knew it."

She strode rapidly over to the printer page which The Librarian Smith had abandoned to put his hands so scholastically in his pockets, and she plucked that page from where he'd left it-- and other blank ones, from the selfsame printer --and she brought these with her to stare at the digital camera footage now scrolling by on Chloe's laptop.

She whispered and she muttered to herself, and she gnawed on the end of the pen from her pocket as she thoughtthoughtthoughtthought. It was dizzying... she could feel whole untapped regions of her brain unlocking themselves, whole vistas expanding before her mind's eye...

"It's like Warren Ellis wrote," she muttered. "It doesn't matter if language is from another planet or another freaking plane of existence: language has repetition, and language has cadence. It's like. Well. It's like music. And to understand music you just have to understand the math involved... so if we crack the math of the extee alphanumerics, we'll be deciphering their meaning in no time. The native glyphs"-- the irony of this term was not lost on her, being both Native to America and native to Earth, but this too was filed into her subconscious, right beside the mental image of Shirtless Bruce, for later consideration --"may actually be a parallel translation, like an instruction manual that repeats itself in Spanish or German after telling its tale in English. Or? The two languages may be interwoven, each telling a part of the story, pieces of a jigsaw. Suffice it to say, if you're uncomprehending on one score, you maybe might be uncomprehending on both. We can't neglect the extee stuff just because Librarian Smith has a jones for local flavour. We just can't."

She spoke feverishly, and she spoke softly, and whether anyone paid any attention to her at all was their business rather than hers.

 

[Superman1496]

And Bruce had never been so lost before. Smith was speaking in riddles, and Chloe was on to him like white on rice. And Rose even, was getting part of the action.

But Bruce had to be there. It was almost as if Smith knew that Bruce knew the symbols.

And they looked familiar. He thought hard about it. Trying to remember where they had come from. He could picture them in his mind, almost as if in a dream...

And a ton of bricks could not have hit a more unsuspecting man. A dream. That's where Bruce had seen them before. His dream with Kara...

Kara?

Answer me this, Mr. Smith. What do you think they mean? Bruce asked. He hoped that he was on the right track.

He thought about it, and the answers came to him, faster then he was ready for...surely he was right.

But Kara? Kara Kent? The shy and quiet farm girl from Kansas? What did this have to do with her?

And do you have any idea what's going on here Chloe? Bruce asked, trying to quench his curious mind.

Everyone but Bruce seemed to know something he didn't. But it was almost like Bruce might have possibly stumbled on the one thing they needed.

The Key to the decipher.

 

[AmenRa]

Smith looked from Chloe to Rose then to Bruce.

He smiled. It was a genuine smile, and he meant the smile, because he felt now that they had come steps closer to the truth. He was proud of the three of them. They were powerful.

"I know Professor Willowbrook, and the young man, Holdsclaw," he said to Chloe. "Willowbrook's theories are steeped in superstition, and he does not understand the truth behind the writings on the cave. And although his story tells part of the truth, it does not tell the why.

"Holdsclaw is brash and prideful, and seeks only his own personal gain. It is men like him that must not learn the meanings of the writings."

Smith indicated Rose with a nod of his head. "You have struck the proverbial nail on its head," he said to her. "The language you see is a puzzle. The symbols, the geometry, is Kryptonian, a race long since vanished from the universe. They left their mark here in the form of a powerful artifact, a wealth of knowledge. The Kryptonian words translate into fire, air and water. And that one," he pointed to the topmost glyph, "means crusade.

"Those words tell us the what. They explain the story of this artifact. I believe the Kawatche writings tell us where the pieces are hidden."

Smith fixed each one of them in turn with his gaze. "This information is dangerous. Men, throughout your history, have killed one another to possess this knowledge. Keep that in mind should you decide to plunge farther down this rabbit hole."

Smith turned to leave. When he got to the door, he turned and fized his stare upon them once again.

"But also know this," he said, his dark eyes intent, "this device was never meant for humans to possess. And yet, men will still try. Some of whom I believe we know well. Greed and arrogance has been the downfall of man since history began. It served to propel Leonidas into battle against impossible odds at Thermopolis. It brought Napoleon shame and defeat. It even caused a Roman governor to order the execution of man believed to be a savior. And, I know now that it will cause men to prevent a Kryptonian from obtaining something that is of Krypton itself. I can assure you that is a task they will find not easy at all.

"As for your bone, Miss Sullivan," he finished, "I believe it is somewhere here in Smallville. Research is the key to any reporter's findings. Look close to the time of the meteor shower, when things would have come to this world from space. Tell me what you find."

And with that, the Kryptonian turned and left the room.

Would they know? He had no way to prove. Not now, at least. A drop of his blood would reveal all. The cells in his body, their force field dormant now, were only waiting for a Kryptonian power source to activate them. A power source like was in the cave. If he only had a key...

Physically, he was stronger. His body was denser, his molecules tighter. His refexes were faster, his eyesight better. He had only aged about ten years in the last fifty since he was left behind to live among them as one of them.

It did not matter now if they knew. He did not give trust easily, but he had made exceptions for them.

It could be soon that he would no longer be alone.

 

[Superman1496]

Smith's words were almost too much for Bruce to understand.

Kryptonian? Kawatchi glyphs? Aritifact? Meteor Shower?

Bruce thought about it for a moment, as Smith walked away. He didn't believe in it, but there could very well be a chance that Kara did have something to do with this. Maybe his dream actually meant something.

Bruce trusted Chloe. He did not know why for sure, seeings as how she was a reporter, but he did. But he couldn't tell her about Kara. For a couple reasons.

One, it sounded ridiculous (not that all this didn't already) and no one would believe him. He didn't even fully believe himself.

Two, if he was right, and Kara was an alien from another planet, and the one chosen for this artifact thing, there were probably obvious reasons she didn't tell anyone.

Her life would be destroyed. If someone found out about her, and wanted to experiment on her, they would probably kill her. He couldn't let that happen.

Bruce sat down, thinking about what to do. He figured it would be hard for a teenager to live with such a secret, but what could he do about it?

'Hi Kara, I just wanted to know it's ok with me that you're an alien.'

Yeah, smooth. That would go over really well, Bruce thought. Especially if he was wrong.

What a wonderful way to start of the school year. Bruce said.

 

[AmenRa]

Smith got to his SUV in the Smallville High Parking lot. Instead of getting in the driver's seat, he opened the rear hatch and dug through a duffle bag. He retrieved a small, hardbound book.

The title read, Native American Folklore.

Smith handscribbled a note on a piece of ruled paper, then thumbed through the book to Chapter 7, "Myths and Legends of the Northern Tribes". He inserted the note at this location and closed the book so the paper could easily be seen and read when the book was picked up.

Smith took the book into the school office and left it with one of the receptionists. She assured Smith that she would see that the 10th grade student named Bruce Wayne got the book.

The note read:

BRUCE,

READ THE LEGEND OF HOW BAT GOT HIS WINGS FROM RAVEN WHEN RAVEN HAD THE GHOST SICKNESS. I THINK YOU WILL FIND IT INTERESTING.

-J. SMITH

 

[TearsoftheWorld]

Martha Kent sat down on the couch next to Kara and ran a hand down her golden hair before gently rubbing her back. It would take... well Kara wasn't sure how long it would take before her life seemed relatively normal again. Her life hadn't exactly been normal before, though. How many girls could say that they've broken several tractors just by flipping them over? How many people could say that they ran their arm through a wood chipper and not get hurt?

When Kara ran away from home, Martha was most certainly distraught. She and her husband had tried to delay the inevitable, afraid of the consequences. But Kara had returned, and that said a lot.

"I'm glad you and dad found me." Kara said, her eyes shifting from looking at the floor to staring up at her father and mother. Martha smiled warmly at her and kissed her on the forehead.

"You found us." Martha responded.

Kara smiled as her father came to sit down on the opposite side of her.

"There's something else." he said ominously, though what followed next wasn't anything infinitely life-changing (at least not right away, perhaps). More mysterious, actually. Jonathan had grabbed a small box from one of the desk drawers in his bedroom and brought it downstairs while Kara had been away. He had intended to give it to her on her eighteenth birthday, but for some reason he found it fitting to present her with the contents now. Jonathan opened the lid and pulled out a pair of wrist cuffs.

"They were in the ship when we found you. We think they were meant for you to wear when you grew older, as a reminder of something." Jonathan said, handing them off to his daughter. They felt rather light in her hands, made of a metal substance like to gold, with a strange emblem in the shape of an 'S' on the top.

Kara looked them over before trying one on. It fit her wrist perfectly.

"Fancy." she mused, twisting her wrist this way and that.

"Do you know what the symbol means?" Martha asked. Kara shook her head while still looking at her wrist cuffs. After a few moments her fascination with them seemed to die down, and she resumed looking at her parents.

"Kara, no matter what happens, we'll always love you. That will never change." Martha said tenderly, and Kara smiled again.

"I know, mom." she responded.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Rose and Chloe

"What a wonderful way to start of the school year," Bruce said.

Chloe trusted Bruce, too. Maybe it was his multi-faceted charm, but she had already decided given the magnitude of this occurrence, there was no other student at this school she would have experienced this with save one. Save Pete Ross.

Chloe didn't much go for the metaphysical stuff, but she briefly flirted with the notion that she and Bruce had known each other in a previous incarnation. He still the broken-hearted prince, she still the go-getter blonde newshound...

She'd have a different name, though, of course. Something semi-sweet yet mysterious... Ricki or Nikki or along those lines. With an alliterative last name. And she'd be played by... Kim Basinger?

Fertiliser, she chuckled to herself, and laughed faintly, achingly as she rested her head briefly on the side of Bruce's arm. He was quite the tall one, and she only five-feet-five...

She drew away from him and shook her head. "Yeah," she agreed. "This? Is one for the record books. And wait 'till you hear how Pete and I started eighth grade, that'll put it into perspective. Whole different set of artifacts, cute fella named Eric Weiss. (Or was it Ehrich? Something like that.)"

She smirked wryly, and reluctantly closed her laptop. She would be burning the midnight oil again tonight. She had a lot of Googling to do.

"Suffice it to say?" she declared, looking back at Bruce as she locked the camcorder away in the cabinet with the DV cable and the voice recorder, and she bagged her laptop once more, "this wouldn't be the first time we've been under the gun."

Chloe got a thoughtful look on her face, admiring. "You might even say it's Pete's forte. Grace under pressure. I think you two'll get along fine."

She put Rose's jump drive on her ring of keys. She shouldered the laptop bag, and retrieved her coffee from where she'd left it earlier (sure it was cold and yucky by now, but dammit caffeine was caffeine, and she needed all she could get). Then, she eyed Rose.

"You coming," she wisecracked, "or should I lock you in?"

Rose blinked, looked up, startled. She had just been staring into space... into the middle of space, into the middle of nowhere. Just like her dad. Just like him. She'd gone away for awhile.

Gone where? Not Florin, not Númenor, not Sihnon. Krypton.

(Her subconscious was still doing its thing, picking up on stuff that she was too busy to notice and filing it away... filing it away... her dreams would likely be quite a muddle tonight, if she ever got any sleep at all. For one thing, Napoleon wasn't done in by his greed or his arrogance... greed and arrogance got Napoleon a crown and an empire. Napoleon was done in by Lord Horatio Nelson, every good British-American girl knew that.)

(And then there was King Leonidas at Thermopylae... Shirtless Gerard Butler.)

She grinned helplessly, and hurried to Chloe's side.

"Sorry," she hung her head. "I got. Caught up. Thought maybe I could... all the symbols are inherently geometric, so I thought I could use basic principles of mathematics and science, constants like-like-like pi and c and gravity... but there's too many variables. I don't know enough of the vocab or the cultural idioms. Barking up the wrong tree. I don't... I don't know enough."

Chloe chuckled, and patted Rose encouragingly on the back. "Most of what you see here is a work in progress, Cerebra. Something tells me you'll get it eventually.

"Now," she gestured forcefully to Rose and to Bruce, "let's get going. I'm going to call Professor Smith tomorrow, see if he can't fax us all a note saying we cut class to take part in an advanced college research project, something that'll look good on our transcripts, but there's no guarantee he'll come through. So let's not miss any more classes than we have to."

Rose nodded. "One more period 'till lunch," she noted. "We should try to get to lunch at least on time."

Rose walked to the door, but hovered in it for a moment, gazing down at the sheet of paper she held and the sheaf on which she intended to make vast linguistic notations. "Aliens," she breathed. "God."

She hesitated, and glanced bewilderedly up at Chloe. "Only three elements, though. Fire, Water, and Air. I know a thing or two about those particular elements... just a thing. Or two. But no Earth? What do Kryptonians have against the element of Earth?"

"Maybe rocks are bad where they come from?" Chloe speculated. "And don't forget the somewhat fuzzier notion of a fifth element. Luc Besson called it Love, Ma-Ti called it Heart, Miyamoto Musashi called it Void. Whomever they are, Kryptonians mislike rocks and deny their spiritual sides."

"'Whomever they are?'" Rose reiterated with a blink. "Librar... Professor Smith said that they were gone from The Universe."

Chloe arched both eyebrows. "He also mentioned men throughout our history. Our history, not his. And he was adamant that humans couldn't have The Artifact, but he's dead-set on us finding it for him."

Rose digested this for a moment. "So he's... he might actually...?"

She licked her lips and blinked rapidly. "Son of a bitch."

"Tell me about it," Chloe smirked. "'Much to learn have you, young Padawan.'"

Rose shook her head, and moved out into the hallway, incredulous, muttering to herself.

Chloe paused in the door, just as Rose had, and glanced back at Bruce.

"Come on," she murmured. "People to see, places to go, things to do. All the nouns are waiting on us."

But then she glanced over at The Wall of Weird, remembering quite clearly John Smith's admonition that she investigate things that showed up around the time of The Meteor Shower. She glanced over at the adoption notice she'd pinned up just earlier that morning.

Kara Kent, she wondered. Was Professor Limited Telepathy talking about you?

'We'll be watching your career,' she decided, as she moved into the hallway to thereby allow Bruce egress, 'with great interest.'

 

[TearsoftheWorld]

Run and tell all of the angels
This could take all night
Think I need a devil to help me
Get things right

Hook me up a new revolution
Cos this one is a lie
We sat around laughing
And watch the last one die

Upstairs in her room, Kara Kent sat on her bed with her arms wrapped around her lugs, hugged tight to her chest. She was staring out the window and into the darkness of the night. She knew that high above her the stars were shining brighter than they had ever been. Kara let one hand move itself away from its position, and she balled her hand up into a fist, squeezing it tight and feeling her muscles contract.

She was strong... and every day she seemed to grow stronger. Twisting her arm she looked at the metallic cuff around her wrist, staring at the strange 'S' symbol that was emblazoned on its surface. What did it mean? What significance did it hold? Kara wished she knew... and yet a part of her desired to be normal. To be human.

Im looking to the sky to save me
Looking for a sign of life
Looking for something help me burn out bright

Im looking for complications
Looking cos Im tired of lying
Make my way back home
When I learn to fly (high)

Not more than a few minutes later Kara had moved outside the house and into the barn, making her way to the loft where she often spent time by herself. There was a couch, a desk, some dressers, a nice carpet, and her telescope.

It was rather ironic, now that she thought about it. Kara had spent quite some times simply staring up at the stars... wondering what it might be like if there was life somewhere other than on Earth. And all this time she just had to look in the mirror to see one such a life form.

The next question she had to ask herself was: Was she alone?

Think Im done nursing the patience
I can wait one night
Id give it all away
If you give me one last try

We live happily ever trapped
If you just save my life
Run and tell the angels
That everything is all right

Im looking to the sky to save me
Looking for a sign of life
Looking for something help me burn out bright

Im looking for complications
Looking cos Im tired of trying
Make my way back home
When I learn to fly (high)

 

[TearsoftheWorld]

Outside of Smallville High School a young woman stood upon one of the many steps that led to the main entrance. She was wearing a grey hoodie and faded, blue jeans; dark hair falling down about her shoulders with her hands tucked snuggly inside her pockets. She looked to be no older than 15 years of age... and yet she acted as one that had seen too many winters.

A set of doors suddenly opened in front of her, and a few students wearing sports jackets came outside. They were laughing and having a good time, it seemed. They made a direct line for the young girl, acting as if she wasn't even in their way... as if she was invisible. Yet instead of bumping into her, as one would expect, the young football stars walked right through her!

Turning around slowly, the young girl glared at them coldly. High above the sun became suddenly masked with clouds, and the air around Smallville High became cold and wintry.

"I'll show them." she mumbled, before turning back around and literally walking through the doors.

 

[Superman1496]

Bruce followed through the door, with Rose close behind. 'If I'm not careful, I'll blow this whole thing.' Bruce thought. 'Play it cool, don't even hint at it.' He told himself.

So, you two think that Mr. Smith is an alien, from, uh...damn...I can't remember. Like, Jupiter or something? Bruce asked. It was a little starteling, but it would make sense how he knew about Kara, if he knew.

They walked down the hallway, and a lady appeared around the corner. Mr. Wayne, a man left this for you a moment ago. The lady said, handing Bruce a book with a note attatched to it.

Um, thanks. Bruce said. He looked at the book. Native American Folklore? Bruce asked. He flipped open the book, and glanced at the pages inside. Pictures of buffalo, foxes, and a large bat-looking creature appeared. Typical Native American pictures.

He looked up at Chloe. Why, of all the people to send this too, and of all the books to chose from, why me, and why Bat and Raven? Bruce asked. He opened up the book to the marked page, and read over "How Bat got his wings from Raven.

The story was interesting. The Bat was a four legged creature, who walked around like normal animals. One day he came across Raven, who looked sick. The Bat asked what was wrong, and the Raven replied: "I have Ghost Sickness, and I am to die." The Bat looked up at the Raven, and asked what he could do to help. "You must create strong winds to blow the Ghost Sickness out of me." Raven replied. The Bat replied, I am only an ordinary Bat, and can not do such. When the Raven became disappointed of his fate, Bat stretched his arms out, and created wings never seen before, and blew the Ghost Sickness out of Raven.

Oh, most admirable Bat, you have done great wonders for me, and for that I will make you fly high about the ground creatures, and protect and be feared by evil." The Raven said. And from then on, Bat flew at night, becoming nocturnal, causing fear in the creatures below.

'Interesting story' Bruce thought to himself. 'What the hell does it have to do with anything we're talking about?'

Bruce thought he should ask someone who could probably interpret the meaning of the story to him. 'Another riddle' Bruce thought.

This Mr. Smith man confuses the hell out of me. Bruce said, looking down at Chloe, who just smiled at him and stared into his eyes.

 

[AmenRa]

Var-Sen stood alone on the balcony of his Metropolis apartment. He gazed upwards into the noon sky.

Of course he stood alone. He had always been alone, here, on this world. Even when he had been left behind by his team, in the company of someone he truly cared for, he was alone.

His was a Kryptonian's tale of sorrow and betrayal, surely to rival any tragedy ever written by Shakespeare. He fell in love with a human female who was part of the original contact team of which Lionel Luthor and others were also part of. Who she was isn't important, only that she was, and in the end, she attempted to "hand him over" to government researchers, or military, or whomever they were.

Self-preservation is the same for Kryptonians as it is for humans. Var-Sen killed her. Other members of the fellowship assisted him in concealing this. Their loyalties were to him. His were to himself. And to the noble houses of Krypton, of which he once was an advisor, a scientist, a respected counselor.

And now he was a murderer.

Like Nam-Ek. Like Aethyr. Like Zod.

Zod. The reason Var-Sen came to Earth this last time was because of the renegade General Zod. Zod had murdered Var-Sen's betrothed just outside the city gates of Kandor. Zod was captured, convicted of many more crimes, and imprisoned within the Phantom Zone. And Var-Sen volunteered for the mission to Earth. He knew it would be his last the moment the ship left Krypton.

But he was not like Zod. Although his pre-disposition was to unfailing logic and literal meanings, he held compassion and faith. These were things he learned from his friend and mentor, Zor-El.

Zor-El had said many things to him before he left. He remembered talking to Zor-El as the respected scientist held his infant daughter Kara and spoke of ways to save their planet should the crystals fail.

And now, as Var-Sen gazed into the night sky, he knew the crystals had fallen. He knew the red sun, Rao, had unleashed its wrath on Krypton. These things were undisputed by what he now knew.

And there just might be the truth that there was someone else from his world living among these humans as one of them.

But tonight, however, Var-Sen felt alone.

 

[Superman1496]

Outside Wayne Manor

Ducard sat inside his car, waiting. Sun had set, and there was no sign of Bruce. Alfred walked out to the Mercedez Benz outside, started it up, and drove off.

'Perfect' Ducard thought. He grabbed the radio as he got out of the car. Ok men, the time is now. Get everything set up, and keep your eyes out for young Master Wayne. He said over the radio. He walked up to the gate in the front.

Instead of calling to the house, it opened up from the inside. 'Ninja's' he thought. He proceeded inside, passing four of his men, posted in various spots around the front garden.

Inside, the camera's were being set up. The weapons where being put into place, and the men were preparing themselves for a long night.

'Ninja's can be tought to be invisible' Ducard thought to himself. He was right. 'It is time Mr. Wayne, to teach you how to mind your surroundings.'

Ducard walked around Wayne Manor, making sure everything was set and perfect. The equipment that had been in the basement, had been moved to Bruce's bedroom.

Everything was set.

Sir, Mr. Wayne is now leaving the Kawatchi caves, and he doesn't look alone. A voice called over the radio.

Make sure he arrives here alone. I don't want any uninvited guests tonight. Ducard demanded over the radio. Everyone was in place. Everything was set at the Wayne Manor.


...


Alfred drove the Benz down the highway, going towards Metropolis. He was going to talk to a man he hadn't seen in years.

A man he wished he would never see again.

As Alfred drove down the road, he felt as if he was being followed. But, it was a small country highway, and it was the only one going in the direction of Metropolis.

Passing a deer sign, Alfred glanced at his clock. The clock read 7:45 p.m. He probably wouldn't get home tonight. Bruce knew that, and could take care of himself for a night.

Alfred still didn't like the idea of young Master Wayne being alone. His number one fear. But Alfred had to talk to Mr. Luthor, at all costs, and soon.

Alfred heard something that sounded like a shot, and he began to loose control of the car. He slowed down, and pulled over. Getting out of the vehicle, he noticed his tire, 'flat as a pancake' he thought to himself.

The vehicle behind him drove by. Alfred stood there on the side of the road, alone. He checked his cell phone, and had no signal.

'Great' Alfred thought. 'Well, I suppose that I have to wait patiently for someone to come along.' He sat in his car, and turned on the radio station to an Elvis station, and waited.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Chloe

Chloe did smile up at him, did stare into his eyes, searching him for a moment. He was comforting in his stature and his strength, adorable in his bewilderment, heartrending in his heartbreak.

"He's a confusing guy," Chloe admitted after a moment, returning her gaze to the hallway ahead to watch where she was going, then downing the remainder of her coffee with a single swig and ditching the cup in a trashcan as she passed. "This is a man very comfortable living in a House of Mystery, a House of Secrets. It strikes me that encryption is his native tongue, and double-meaning as natural to him as breathing. Maybe it's in his nature individually, maybe it's an aspect of this supposed 'Kryptonian' culture.

"So maybe he's got a secret message for you," Chloe continued to ponder, idly looking back over her shoulder at Rose before again contemplating Bruce, the teen wonder.

(Rose was not looking where she was going. She was jotting stuff down as she went in a little black notebook, the printer pages under one arm, and she was singing softly to herself. She looked a little sad.)

"He wears black, right? I referenced Edgar Allan Poe a few minutes back. Maybe he sees himself as a messenger, like Poe's Raven, a speaker of bleak black secrets from Beyond The Shores of Night. Like James O'Barr's Crow, too, a bearer of secrets and souls. Maybe he's trying to tell you to not be scared of the dark. That while darkness has fearful things in it, it can also be useful. Like, that story?"

She nodded to the book in Bruce's hand, the note that described the tale Bruce had been instructed to read.

"In that story," Chloe discoursed, "Bat doesn't find his purpose until taking on an aspect of the winged nocturnal messenger, which is to say, taking on wings himself. And then he becomes powerful, a thing to be feared, a thing capable of driving back that which haunts and preys from the cover of night."

She paused, and she considered with a wry smile. "It's also worth noting that Raven isn't just a creator-god in many myths-- particularly Native American and East Asian myths --he's a trickster, too. So while he gives gifts, his gifts are not necessarily to be trusted. Maybe Professor Smith is trying to warn us about the power of this Artifact he's hunting for and its ability to corrupt.

"Or maybe," she calculated, giving Bruce an extra pointed look as she remembered Bruce's own personal man of mystery from The Kawatche Cave, "since he addressed that note to you directly? He's trying to warn you about someone else who wears the trappings of Ravens. Maybe he's trying to warn you about someone else who wears black."

Chloe grimaced ruefully. "Of course, I could be totally off my nut. Maybe he just figured you had a thing for Native American stuff, since you knew a bit of Kawatche before. Who the frell knows?"

Double-meanings and myth interpretation? Chloe lamented, pressing her palms to her forehead. Bats and Ravens. What's next, anagrams?

 

[ChasNicollette]

Rose

(Rose was not looking where she was going. She was jotting stuff down as she went in a little black notebook, the printer pages under one arm, and she was singing softly to herself. She looked a little sad.)

Rose walked. And she daydreamed.

And she read, and she scribbled, in her father's little book of quotes.

Bruce and Chloe were discussing things, things of great import, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to pay attention. She was wondering about what it would be like to be the sole survivor of your species, an Adam without an Eve or an Eve without an Adam.

How horrible it would be, how great a burden? When your life was expended, thus ended the legacy and the history of you and yours, your kith and your kin.

She remembered conversations with her father about the theory of evolution, and how some evolutionists subscribed to a "Hopeful Monster Theory." The notion was, a new species would emerge from an old one via genetic mutation, and be so drastically different from his forebears that he could not breed with them and thereby carry on genetic stock. This "monster," this unique being, would then have to hope against all the probability of Nature that during his lifetime a similar creature would appear, a female of his brand new species, with whom he could mate and carry on their new life.

Evolution, it seemed, was often tragic.

And what of the old species, the one whose position in the natural hierarchy was (unintentionally?) usurped by the hopeful monsters? They would, in turn, become desperately hopeful, striving to find another of their kind. Striving to find a second chance. Striving to prove that they were not outmoded, they were not obsolete.

If John Smith was an alien-- and this, of course, remained to be proven, though much of Rose ached to believe that this was true --then he would be like unto a Hopeful Monster.

Rose wondered if he was more hopeful than monstrous. She thought he could be. She thought he could.

Rose paused. A tickling roved up and down the backs of her ears, a tingling in her scalp and behind her eyes... goosebumps rocketed down her arms and deposited themselves on the backs of her hands.

She stiffened, and she dropped her sheaf of printer paper, and she clutched her father's quotebook to her chest as she glanced furtively about with wide, wide eyes.

She worried that the shadows were back, the shadows that had sprinted and quivered along the walls of The Torch had not remained at bay.

But the darkness at the edges of the hall did not seem to be doing anything untoward, and Rose relaxed a bit. Tried to unstiffen her spine.

She knelt, shaking her head and trying to keep even her mild cursing to a minimum as she pocketed the quotebook and proceeded to pick up her fallen papers.

Unexpected synaesthesia, like Dad talked about. Probably just a... a random temperature drop. Low pressure system or something, weather moving in outside.

Lord, we're in Kansas. I hope it's not a tornado!

It's... it's probably fine. It's probably fine. Over-reacting. Should never have watched that "Day After Tomorrow" movie.

She straightened, and cast her gaze about, looking at Bruce and Chloe to again see if they'd noticed.

Bruce was looking at Chloe, and Chloe had her palms pressed to her forehead. They both looked pretty deep in thought.

Rose turned to look back in the direction from which they'd come, like Lot's Wife turning to look back at doomed Sodom, or Orpheus sneaking a fateful glance at Eurydice.

That shiver wouldn't leave her, wouldn't leave her shoulders, wouldn't leave her backbone, and despite herself, despite herself, Rose couldn't help but whisper a tiny, tiny whisper: "Something's coming."

"The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm is terrible, but they have never found those dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore."
-Vincent van Gogh.
(from Quotations on Courage, compiled by James Hamilton)

"But I'm not broken, in my dream I win
And I take over, coz I'm no loser
And I'm in and you're not, bad dreams don't stop
But I'm all screwed up, a Cosmic Castaway"
-"Cosmic Castaway," by Electrasy
(scribbled by Rose McCrimmon in the margins of Quotations on Courage)
​

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Kyle

OK, it's official. Algebra kills brain cells.
I sighed & looked out the window. ( I could actually lean against things now. The bruises from where I had been shot last night were already fading. Yet another one of the changes I had gone through on the night I discovered I was different.) I'd rather be in Metropolis, or Gotham, or anywhere else but here stuck in this imaginary numbers Hell! I did a little good last night, but there was so much more I knew I could do. I just needed to grow and train myself.
I was startled out of my daydream when the first van pulled up outside the school. Soon after another showed up, then a third. Maybe the football team was doing real good this year? Then I saw the gossip reporter from one of those "Pry into the celebrity's life" shows, and my stomach dropped worse than it had when be fired at by an assault rifle!!

The letter I found on my locker seemed to weigh a hundred pounds now. Someone had let the world know that the murdered billionaire's son was alive and well in Smallville.
Once again I closed my eyes and calmed myself before I changed or did something dumb. I know that I was "leaking" for lack of a better word because the teacher lost his rhythm and the students around me were acting like a chill just entered the room. One of the drawbacks of my "condition".
I raised my hand" Excuse me, Mr. Sommers, may I be excused to use the restroom?"
He huffed a bit but let me go. Once I was out I was off in the hallway in a flash, and promptly crashed into someone! Papers and a small black book went flying, while my glasses flew off. I righted myself and looked over into the eyes of Rose, who was on her rear and looking at me strangely. Thats when i realized that my right contact had fallen out and she was staring into one blue eye and one softly glowing lavender eye!!!
Crap!!!

 

[TearsoftheWorld]

The young girl that had just walked into Smallville High had walked down the hallway a little bit, passing straight through other students as if she were a ghost... invisible to the rest of the world. She could hear them laughing, chuckling, mocking each other.

Nothing new.

She stopped to look at a trophy case against the wall, peering in through the glass to read the names of whomever was mentioned.

"They think they're so special." she commented bitterly. She turned her head over her shoulder and glanced outside a window, seeing a few vans and people with mechanical equipment getting out. While it was a rather unexpected occurrence, it didn't alter her plans. It would make things a bit more interesting, now that she thought about it.

 

[AmenRa]

John Smith came in from the open-air balcony. He went to his computer desk, where he sat down in front of his keyboard and monitor.

A few keystrokes had him logged into an online banking site. The entry of a password and an account opened up for him. Lionel Luthor had fulfilled his promise. There was enough money available to go where he needed, talk to those he needed to talk to, and get what he must have.

Smith confirmed Luthor's private plane was prepped for a flight to Cairo. He would begin where Luthor had left, on the search for one of the pieces here in the Egyptian desert. He also transferred a considerable amount of money to a friend who had already began work for him there several weeks ago. He had promised to pay the man, and now he had fulfilled that obligation.

He stood and began to pack a suitcase with a dingy, rough brown leather jacket, khaki pants suitable for dirty work, and other clothing he would need in the daytime and nights of Egypt. Once he closed the suitcase, he dropped an old brown hat on top of it.

He would leave in thirty minutess, and within that time, he hoped Chloe had deciphered the rest of the writings. Part of him wished he could take Chloe, Bruce, and Rose with him. He was very fond of them. He considered them to be "his", and he would protect them with all that he was. This was a very human feeling, he knew. It was not one he was ashamed of.

Lionel had emailed him. He opened it and read.

NO INFORMATION REGARDING OUR FRIEND FROM FRANCE. IF I HEAR ANYTHING FURTHER, I WILL CONTACT YOU IMMEDIATELY.

BEST OF LUCK,
LL