Action Comics #11: "Return to Smallville, Part 3"

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Action Comics
Issue #11: “Return to Smallville, Part Three”
Written by David Charlton
Cover by Roy Flinchum
Edited by David Charlton

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Smallville, 10 years ago…

They lay in each other’s arms almost until dawn, as if certain that this was all they would ever have of each other. He was leaving in the morning for parts unknown and she was moving to Star City… Neither knew when they would ever see each other again.

When the first rays of sun began shining through the second storey window of the barn, they finally stirred themselves. He insisted on walking her home, but she couldn’t bear it. She kissed him one last time, lingeringly, gently, then left him in that hay loft with the memory of one perfect night…

But Lana Lang’s night wasn’t over.

It was a short walk from the Kent Farm to her aunt’s. There was a dirt road that wound around the fields, but Lana decided to take the shortcut through the wheat. There was a thin lane, and she knew the labyrinth by heart, both she and Clark having used it many times before when they crept from their bedroom windows for late night assignations.

The sun was just coloring the horizon, but the sky was still dark in most places. She could still see the stars above the tall rows of softly susurrating wheat.

Something rustled in the grain nearby. Lana paused, peering through the stalks. It must have been Shelby, Clark’s dog. Or maybe it was one of her aunt’s cats. She went on, more cautiously.

A second later, there was another disturbance in the wheat. And this one was too big, too loud to be a dog or a cat. There in the pre-dawn hour, in a wheat field in Smallville, Kansas, Lana Lang saw something not of this world rising in front of her.

She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound died in her throat as she was bathed in the radiance of a purple beam.

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She would not remember the hours that followed. At least not consciously. For years afterward, she would have dreams--- nightmares, really--- of being in a dark place, and of being terrified. Often she woke up screaming, but in her dream, she could only whimper.

In her dream, she was laid flat on a cold, metallic table. All was darkness, but for a glaring light above her, but she could not look away: her head was strapped down, and her eyelids held open by tiny hooks. But she was not alone. She heard the unmistakable sound of animals in cages all around her. Particularly, she always remembered the piercing chittering of a monkey, shaking the bars of its prison.

And there was another. A cold dispassionate face floated in and out of her vision. Was he a scientist? He seemed to be dressed in a long white lab coat, and she always saw him with some sort of instrument in his hands that she didn’t recognize.

He frightened her like nothing else. He observed her with a fixed intensity, no expression on his inhuman visage. He seemed to be completely hairless, his skin a pale sickly green. But his eyes… They pierced her like no scalpel could. They peeled away layers of her that she had never shown to anyone, not even Clark.

*Yes: Clark.* His icy, metallic voice echoed in her mind. *The last of his kind. How odd that he should take refuge here…*

In her dream, and tossing restlessly in her bed, Lana felt her heart racing, pounding for surcease as an unreasoning panic arose in her.

“No…” She moaned in her bed--- for she could make no such sound on that table, under the merciless gaze of the alien scientist.

*You shall be my instrument of conquest over him, human sow.* He leaned in close to her, and she could see the fine mesh netting atop his smooth pate, tiny nodes glowing coldly. *I will give you what you always wanted, what he will not. I will return when the time is ripe, and claim my victory. The universe will tremble before Brainiac.*

That’s when the screaming began.

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Today…

“Connor!”

Lana’s shriek echoed in Clark’s head. He was already in motion. Moving faster than the eye could follow, he scooped up Lana, Pop and the young couple that were the only two customers in the shoppe, and threw them beneath a table, shielding them with his body, just as Connor’s heat vision found and ignited the gas line!

The soda shoppe went up in a ball of fire, the blast immolating nearly everything that wasn’t in the radius of Clark’s protective embrace.

The roar of the explosion drowned out Lana’s screams, but she kicked and flailed against Clark, frantic to go to her son. Flaming tinder bounced harmlessly off his back and shoulders, but he held her and the others down.

Clark risked a glance behind him. He knew Connor would have survived the blast--- his evidently Kryptonian physiognomy impervious to harm--- but he was not prepared for what he saw. The boy hovered there, his eyes still glowing red, and his face screwed into a fierce expression. His fists were cocked for violence.

“Connor, wait---!” He cried.

But it was too late. The boy flew straight at him, fist first.

His cloths burnt from the explosion and hanging from him in tatters, it was Superman that rose to meet the boy’s attack. He braced himself and collected Connor to him like a wide receiver catching a football. The impact sent them both crashing backward, through the walls of the shoppe and out into the street!

Cars swerved and jammed on their brakes as the two rolled out onto Main Street, Conner kicking and pummeling atop the Man of Steel.

The blows Connor rained down on Superman were powerful enough to pulverize diamonds. Stunned and disorientated, it was a moment before Superman could seize the arms of the furious little boy, halting the attack momentarily.

“Connor, wait! Calm down, son!” He yelled at him, surprised by how hard pressed he was to control the boy’s flailing limbs. Above him, Connor Lang fumed and scowled ferociously.

“I can help you.” Superman said soothingly. “I can teach you to control all this.”

Connor’s eyes burned a darker, deeper red. When he spoke, it was not with the voice of a nine year old, but with one that Superman found familiar, though he had heard it only recently.

“Kryptonian fool!” Spat the boy, straddling Superman’s chest. “Anything I want from you, I will take!”

The words caught Superman by surprise. In a rush, stunned realization washed over him--- he’d been duped. He fixed Connor with his x-ray vision, and instead of muscle, tissue and blood, he saw only gears and servos and cybernetics…

This was not his son--- or Lana’s!--- this was a machine.

Taking advantage of the Man of Steel’s momentary confusion, the construct that was Connor wrenched its hands free, and curling them into fists, pounded them hard into Superman’s chest!

The blow hurt. Superman cried aloud in pain, and rolled, throwing his attacker off of him. Connor wasted no time. It rose into the air, hovering just far enough away to use its heat vision with impunity. He burned a scar across the street, tracing a line to the library on the corner. The building went up in flames, people scurrying from it like ants from a mound.

Holding his bruised ribs, Superman pulled himself from the ground, squinting up at Connor. He inhaled deeply, despite the pain it caused him, then blew a hurricane-strength gust of wind at the construct that sent it tumbling end over end, out over the horizon. Then, without hesitation, Superman kicked off the ground and flew into the burning library to pull out those trapped within.

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When Lois Lane regained consciousness, there was a paramedic leaning over her, and all she could hear was sirens. She raised her head, ignoring the throbbing, and saw the burnt out and smoldering soda shoppe across the street. In fact, another building close by was on fire as well, but the local engine company almost had the flames under control.

She assured the paramedic she was okay, just a bump on the head, and climbed unsteadily to her feet, just in time to see Superman flying off, into the distance. There was a body in his arms.

Hmmm…

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He flew her towards the hospital, though she appeared not to have any physical injuries. Lana held him tightly around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder.

“What happened to him, Clark? What happened to my son?”

He swallowed, putting aside for a minute that she had just called him by his real name, and told her gently: “Lana, I don’t know how to tell you this… Connor isn’t your son. He isn’t even human.”

She raised her tear-streaked face to look at him, appalled. “What are you talking about?” Her lip quivered. “I’ve always known there was a chance he’d inherited your powers, but he’s still my son! Oh, don’t look so surprised, Clark! I realized from the first moment I saw Superman on the TV that you and he were one and the same! And I’ve always kept your secret, left you to your good work… I always hoped Connor would join you in it one day…” Tears welled anew in her eyes.

They flew through some low-hanging clouds, clinging tightly to each other.

“Lana, think: do you even remember giving birth to Connor? Changing a diaper? A first tooth?” A thought struck him, and he scanned her with his x-ray vision, horrified by what he found. “There’s a metal chip attached to the base of your brain, and its molecular composition is not of this planet. I have no doubt that it’s been feeding you false memories all this time.”

“My son is not a figment of my imagination, Clark!” She raged back at him, disengaging her arms. She pounded on his shoulders and back, her chest heaving with her sobs.

Superman pulled her closer to him. Nothing he could do would comfort her now, except maybe to just be there for her. He knew Connor was no figment of anyone’s imagination. He was very real, and very dangerous. But still, he was just a tool, a decoy. Who was the real menace behind what was happening?

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Lana was practically catatonic when he laid her in the hospital bed, the nurses in awe at his presence among them.

He kissed her softly on the forehead, then moved to leave.

“Wait…” Came Lana’s weak voice.

He turned back, grasped the hand she held up to his, and bent close to hear her.

“I--- I have bad dreams…for years now. About this cold, scary man. Only he’s not a man. He’s an alien. He calls himself Brainiac, I think… And he hates you. He was going to use me to get to you. Oh, no what have I done…?”

Superman caressed her hair, and smoothed her wrinkled brow. “Shhh, Lana. Everything is going to be alright. I’ll take care of it.”

She managed a smile up at him, then turned her head away, whispering her son’s name so softly only he picked it up.

He turned to the nurses. “Please. Take care of her.”

They nodded wordlessly, then he was gone, the curtains of the open window fluttering.

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He rose up high in the air over Smallville, scanning the town with both his eyes and ears.

The disaster on Main Street seemed to be under control, with both fires now out. And though there was millions of dollars in property damage, no lives had been lost thanks to Superman’s quick actions.

Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary in Smallville. He peered into every abandoned building, every grain silo and bomb shelter, but there was no sign of Connor or his mysterious enemy.

*I told you before, Kal-El, you will not find me unless I wish it.* Came the sinister voice in his head again.

*Brainiac!*

*Indeed. That is how the people of Kyrpton knew me. On my birthworld Colu, I am called Vril Dox, but I think I prefer Brainiac.*

*Krypton?* Superman was taken aback. *What do you know of Krypton? And what do you want with me?*

*Both excellent questions, Kal-El.* Brainiac replied. *But not the ones you should be concerned with. Instead you should be asking yourself: if I could so easily manipulate Lana Lang, have I gotten to others who are close to you?*

Superman’s blood ran cold. Only one thought ran through his mind: Ma!

He dove to earth, streaking across the horizon to the Kent Family farm, Brainiac’s mirthless laughter echoing in his ears.

He found her almost immediately in the house, working at the stove and humming to herself. She glanced over her shoulder at him as he burst into the kitchen, concern on his face.

His x-ray vision had already shown him the metal chip in her head.

She smiled at him, stirring a large pot. “You’re just in time for dinner, Clark.” She said sweetly. “I even made your favorite.” She reached into the pot, and pulled something out, turning to face him.

In her outstretched hand was a dripping, green glowing rock.

“Kryptonite stew.” She announced proudly, taking a step towards him.

Suddenly awash with nausea, Superman staggered away from her, falling into the living room.

“Ma, no!” He held up his hand to ward her off, but she followed him, seeming to be blissfully unaware of his distress.

“Come now, Clark. Give your mother a hug…”

Already too feeble from exposure to the kryptonite, he stumbled backward, making for the door. He needed to get outside, to put some distance between himself and that rock.

He reached the door, falling heavily against it, and tore it open. There on the front porch, a surprised expression on his face, was Pete Ross. He had been just about to knock...

“Pete, help.” Superman gasped, leaning weakly on his oldest friend. “It’s Ma, she---.”

Hanging from a chain around Pete’s neck was another chunk of Kryptonite. Smiling, he undraped it and loped it around Superman’s neck, the Man of Steel now too weak to resist. He fell out of Pete’s arms, blacking out before he reached the boards.

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When he came to, he was upright but immobile, his arms hanging at his side. His head was still thick from the exposure to the kryptonite radiation, but it seemed to be just a lingering aftereffect; he was in some sort of stasis field.

The room he was in was cavernous and dark. Across from him, he could see both Pete and his Ma, moving about mindlessly, as if involved in menial tasks, apparently unharmed but also unresponsive to his calls. He could just make out a line of pedestals, atop of which were oversized bottles, from which sprouted tubes and wires. All of the bottles seemed to be labeled, but in an alien script he could not read.

He tried to use his x-ray vision, but the stasis field seemed to also have a nullifying effect. He was helpless.

“Ah, you are awake.”

The voice was spoken, but it was the same cold and dispassionate one that he had heard twice now in his head.

“I feared you had been over-irradiated, but the Kryptonian capacity to heal under solar rays has proved remarkable indeed.”

Hollow steps followed, and a figure walked into dim light directly in front of Superman.

“Brainiac.” The word came out like a profanity. “Let them go.” He jutted his chin in the direction of his mother and best friend, the most movement he was capable of.

The alien scientist was tall, and dressed in a white lab coat, but beneath that was strange garb of green and purple. His skin was green as well, and atop his smooth, shaved head, was a network of sensory nodes that glowed brightly in the darkness. He regarded Superman as he would a lab rat.

“I think not. I may yet have use for them.” The alien scientist said haughtily.

“What do you want?”

Brainiac did not answer at once, choosing instead to scan Superman with some strange-looking handheld device, circling around him to scan him from all angles. After a moment, he appeared satisfied by what he saw, and lowered the scanner.

“Your father was not so petulant.” He noted.

“What do you know of my father?” Superman shot back. “Did you put a chip in him, too---.”

“I speak of Jor-El of Krypton.” Brainiac interrupted brusquely. “He was a worthy adversary, but ultimately shortsighted. I offered him a world, showed him how we could have conquered a universe together. And how did he repay me? He tried to have me shut down. He abandoned me to the tender mercies of the Computer Tyrants of Colu, though my intellect had long since surpassed even theirs.”

“I don’t understand. How did you know Jor-El?” Superman frowned. “Did you come to Earth to enact some sort of revenge against him on me?”

A small chuckle escaped the alien scientist. “Revenge. It is a useless emotion, and the basest of motivations.” He stepped very close to Superman, close to the crackling energy of the stasis field. “No, seeing Krypton die was revenge enough for me. Jor-El will never again interfere in my affairs. My ambition is no less than intergalactic conquest, starting with Earth. And what I could not coerce from the father,” At this, he withdrew what appeared to be a ray-gun, sparking with cosmic energy. “I shall the more happily take from the son.” He pointed the gun at Superman and fired.

The beam sliced through the stasis field and struck the Man of Steel in the center of the chest. Superman screamed, engulfed in a bright flash of light--- and when the light faded, where the Last Son of Krypton had stood, there remained only a wisp of smoke…!

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To be concluded!

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