Post by Admin on Feb 3, 2010 10:43:53 GMT -5
It's good to be home, he thought, pounding the pavements and heading to his old haunts in Suicide Slum. Been away for too long. Missed the smell. His fingers traced across the concrete of the dilapidated buildings. Tactile. Olfactory. God, glorious, glorious Metropolis. His internal sensors sent information streaming directly into his brain. He hacked and boosted a wireless signal, and linked up to the Internet, and began to catch up on the years he'd been away. Same old, he thought, Superman. Supergirl? Superboy? Superplurals. No matter. He felt his chest throb. Green, thumping power. The lenses could move at his will, gold, red-- there were slithers of alien mineral he hadn't even accessed yet from within his computer mind. Locked tight until something in his head clicked and let him. He had once stood in front of a mirror and rotated the lenses, his chest cavity open wide so he could see inside his body. Green: pain inducing. Red: change inducing. Gold: power removing. And then... there was the lead lined lenses. Three of them. He wondered what they contained. Blue Kryptonite, maybe? Black? Diamond? Silver? Bronze? Yellow? Something. Something...
He pulled his coat tight over his body. He didn't feel cold, but the tingle of familiarity, that niggling nostalgia for home, it created a reaction in that robot-brain of his. Downloaded memories sparked connections in the neural net. That shiver... felt good. He locked his feelings away, most of the time. Turned the mental switch that controlled his pain receptors. But now... he opened his arms wide and looked to the sky as it belched forth rain, thunder and lightning starting to echo and crackle down.
"Welcome home, John," whispered Metallo, as he continued his steady trudge through the streets of Metropolis. "Hell of a town."
Clark Kent and Lois Lane sat in a diner a block down from the Daily Planet, the news playing quietly in the background. They were eating breakfast; they'd been working all night, and most of the morning and now... they'd wrapped their story. Sent it to copy, and Perry White had sent them out to go get some colour in their cheeks. "Well done, children," he had told them, his cigar breaking all health and safety regulations as it hung limply from his mouth, "you have saved the Daily Planet from cancellation for another edition. Don't get complacent! Our livelihoods depends on it!"
"How are your pancakes?" Clark asked, nonchalantly. He knew better than to engage Lois in deep, intellectual conversation over breakfast. She was notching up points toward diabetes, desperately getting her sugar fix so she could function throughout the day. Two cups of coffee stood guard at either side of her plate, and maple syrup oozed over the golden brown pancakes.
"Had better," she replied. She said no more, and Clark smiled, unfolding the newspaper he'd purchased from the vendor before slipping into the diner with Lois.
Senator David Callahan Announces Presidential Bid, he read, stands on platform of 'Truth, Justice and the American Way' in wake of admission of coercion by purported 'Secret Society of Super Villains'
"Hmm," mumbled Clark, shaking his head.
"What's that, Smallville?" asked Lois, finishing her last morsel. "Do you not approve?"
Clark put the paper down and shrugged, before laying out his thoughts. "David Callahan was blackmailed, threatened with torture by the 'Society', right? And he gave them intimate secrets in regards to S.T.A.R. Labs and their programs. Eventually, he put up his hands up and admitted his part in the whole thing before a senate hearing, but that was a few months after the fact. After the Society triggered their raid on S.T.A.R., and he's still come out smelling of roses."
"Did you hear what they did to him?" asked Lois, leaning forward to get closer to Clark. "The Parasite. They sicced Rudy Jones on the man. Stole away his youth for what must have felt like an eternity, threatened him with a fate worse than death if he didn't comply with their demands. Parasite, Clark. You know what a freaky thing he is."
"I got an itch, is all," said Clark, "something isn't right about this."
"You think he's capitalising on his supposed freedom? Coming out against the Society, vowing strict control of the downright naughty metahumans that are running around causing trouble? Singing the praises of the Justice League and all their efforts over the past year? Basically giving the people what they want?" Lois took a sip from her second coffee. "President Stuart is coming to the end of his first term, it's all fair Smallville. It's a shame he hasn't had much to do. Maxwell Lord had it good-- Apokolips! The League forming on his watch, on American soil!" Lois grinned. "Sure, it went through the crapper when he went a bit kooky, and yeah, he's in a military hospital somewhere receiving better treatment than anybody that's ever lived... but ol' Jeb hasn't had a war, he hasn't had something he could have used to really make his term... memorable, I guess?"
"Sure, sure," nodded Clark. He continued to read through his paper, and Lois continued to drink her coffee and recline comfortable in her seat. She looked around, but her eyes were drawn down toward Clark's hands. A concerned look grew on her features, and she reached out to him.
"Smallville... Clark... your hands are shaking... are you okay?"
Clark looked at his hands, and just as she said, they were trembling. He'd never felt like this before. He hadn't felt sick, not until she'd mentioned it. He struggled to his feet, and his brow furrowed. "Whoa," he mumbled, clutching the side of the booth, "don't... don't feel... great..."
"You're pale as a sheet," she said, standing and supporting him. "Jeez, I always forget how massive you are, Clark."
Clark smiled feebly as she helped him toward the exit, but as the feeling of sickness intensified, he pushed back. "No, no... not that... not that way, feel," he put his hand to his mouth, and sprinted to the toilets, away from the front of the diner, and away from Lois, who merely watched the door swing open-shut-open as he rushed in.
"Typical," she said, shaking her head, "can't even hold down breakfast."
He unbuttoned his shirt at super-speed, removed his clothes to reveal the blue and red uniform beneath, and flew out of the window of the bathroom and straight into the light of the Sun. He put some distance between himself and the diner, and lapped in the solar charge that gave him strength. "Rao," he whispered, his strength returning, "what was that?"
In the lower atmosphere within seconds, he focused his vision, and scanned the immediate area-- and saw the cause. John Corben was simply walking, his chest cavity hidden by his leather jacket and white shirt, but still open and projecting Kryptonite rays. He'd last been sighted in Hub City, Superman thought, killed a bartender with a concentrated blast of Green Kryptonite energy, and then countless others. Why? He didn't know. There were whispered links to the Society, but he didn't have time to check.
He knew he had to keep his distance. Metallo's heart was his source of power, and it was capable of killing Superman with enough exposure. He concentrated. He scanned Metallo's body, but it was strange-- he couldn't get an exact bead on what his armour body was made up of. The inner working of his cybernetic parts were hidden, and the heart chamber was a complete void that he couldn't see into. What was going on?
Metallo turned, and squinted. His eyes zeroed in on Superman, just under thirty miles up from where he stood. "Well, hello," whispered the metal-man, his Kryptonite lenses clicking into place in front of the beam projector resting in front of his spine. He aimed, calculated, and then fired off a shot of red, searing energy--
Superman barrelled round the initial blast, but instantly buckled in agony as beads of energy sifted toward him before dissipating. "What was that--?!"
Metallo clambered atop a parked car, his heavy footsteps crunching into the hood, and then aimed his wrist projectors and chest beam up at Superman, and he began to fire, gold, green, red, a swirling convalescence of Kryptonite energy shooting straight up to the Man of Steel. Superman again dodged the initial beam, rolled away from the second, but the Red Kryptonite charge rattled through his body and he screamed, plummeting to Earth within seconds.
Metallo looked around at the terrified crowds, and grinned. "Are you not amused?" He jumped off the car and his feet cracked the pavement. He put a finger to his ear, and then his grin faded. "It's time. Make the jump."
Meanwhile, Superman hit Hob's Bay hard, and immediately began to sink. He struggled to regain his composure, to create some sense of buoyancy within himself, but the Red Kryptonite had caused a chain reaction in his cells-- he was in agony, and he couldn't stop it. With Zod, he would have put distance between himself and the General, with Toyman he could have frozen the hordes of killer toy-planes with a gust of his freezing breath, but this-- he couldn't escape his own body, he couldn't battle that-- he hit the bottom of the bay, and lingered there for a moment, before opening his eyes and kicking up to reach the surface.
"Gahhh!" He suddenly breached the surface, and shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the fuzz inflicted by Metallo's attack. "That smarts..." He closed his eyes, allowed his mind to clear, and then lifted up from the body of water and floated just above the surface. "He's upgraded. Can't be his own handiwork. Not possible. So he needed help. And Kryptonite." Red... haven't been hit by red for... for years... and Gold... he'd never experienced Gold Kryptonite before...and only one man could possibly get his hands on that... he thought, before clenching his fist. "Luthor." He spun around in a scarlet hurricane, and was suddenly dry, then he turned back to where he'd been hit, and scorched toward the scene.
Metallo was long gone, heavy imprints left into the sidewalk where the cybernetic villain had vanished into the sewer system. Superman grimaced. He'd been unlucky-- Metallo had taken him by surprise, and he'd never find him in the lead-lined sewers that Lex Luthor had engineered during his time as a 'legitimate' businessman. "Damn," he said, before looking around and heading North-- to the Fortress of Solitude.
Superman picked up the super-dense white-dwarf-star key to the Fortress and let himself in. He didn't bother with pleasantries with Kelex, instead, he flew straight to his Workshop, and began to think-- his mind ticked away a thousand times faster than any human brain, and within seconds, he knew what he had to do. "I'm a scientist's son," he murmured, putting together a collection of chemicals from the alien inventories he had surrounded himself with, "Time to show that to Metallo." The device resembled a pistol. The mechanism inside? Not so much.
<Master El! What brings you to the Fortress?> buzzed Kelex.
"Work," replied Superman, "Metallo has returned. And I want to try something with him that I've been working on for months now, just in case someone like him resurfaced."
<Understood, sir,> said Kelex.
"Where is Kon? And Kara?" asked Superman. He closed his eyes and listened about the Fortress, but could hear nothing.
<The young Els are practicing on the training moon orbiting Pluto. Do you wish me to contact them?>
"Please," said Superman, "I need them in Metropolis. I need their help taking down Metallo!"
He walked through the lobby of the police station, and leaned over to the secretary, who smiled sheepishly as he asked his question. He showed her his papers and she nodded, directing him down the corridor and up five flights of stairs. From there, he was directed by a number of signs, until finally he reached the bullpen of the Metropolis Special Crimes Unit. The offices were deserted, and there were no officers but one about, who sat quietly in his office working on some paper work.
The bearded man knocked gently on the door, and smiled awkwardly. "Hullo?"
The man behind his desk looked up. He was just entering his thirties, dirty blonde hair and a thin scar from his jugular up to just beneath his eye. It had faded somewhat, from whatever had caused it, but it was still a visible mark. His piercing blue eyes looked straight through this visitor, and he tapped his pen on his desk. "...Well?"
"Captain Jones, right?" asked the bearded man, heaving his satchel bag over his shoulder. "I'm looking for the Captain."
Nemo Jones of the Metropolis Special Crimes Unit looked at this newcomer, and eyed him up suspiciously. "And who would be asking?"
"My name's Chris Kent," said the man, scratching his beard and then handing the Captain a piece of paper. "And I'm a new transfer straight from Midway City."
"Chris Kent? I've been expecting a transfer, but no-one by your name," said the officer.
"Yeah, mix up on our end," said the man, nodding. "I know that MPD are relocating offices, so I thought it would be as good a time as any to come aboard. Sounded like something I wouldn't mind being on the ground floor of, you know?"
Nemo smiled. "Sure. But we're moving shop. You're lucky to have caught me, we're closing the station down, moving to the plaza a few blocks across."
"Oh, I just flew in, didn't have time to check," answered Chris. "But if you give me some directions?"
"Let me have a look at that paperwork again," said Nemo, re-reading the letters. "Not much of a detective if you couldn't figure out we're gutting the place, are you?"
"Well, the tarps over everything were a hint," said Chris, "but better hearing it from the horse's mouth, I always say."
"Right, right..." said Nemo. "Well, if you wait a few minutes, I'm just finishing up here, we'll walk down there together. You can buy me a coffee, rookie."
"Rookie?" repeated Chris. He considered this for a moment before grinning. "Alright, Captain."
Metallo sat in the diner, his chest cavity exposed, throbbing Green Kryptonite in his small corner booth. He'd ordered the full-breakfast meal, and had stated his intention not to pay when he arrived. He'd grinned, and threatened to melt their faces off if his demand of a good breakfast wasn't delivered. The police arrived soon after, but it was strange, they weren't the usual uniformed sonsofbitches the armoured man was used to-- they were flying in the air, rocket packs on their backs.
"JOHN CORBEN! POWER DOWN YOUR KRYPTONITE HEART AND LEAVE THE DINER WITH YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD AND YOUR WEAPON SYSTEMS DISENGAGED."
Metallo stood, and looked over his shoulder to the chef, sweating over a pan full of bacon. "Don't stop cooking. I'll be back."
"Y-yessir!" murmured the cook.
Metallo pushed the door of the diner open and looked around at the police forces assembled. "Firstly," he said, "Bravo," he began to applaud, surveying the threat to his existence as it was, "I mean, top marks on the intimidation factor. Learning a thing or two from Big Blue himself? Yes, flying is scary for your run-of-the-mill hoodlum. I, on the other hand?" Discs of flesh around his body whirled into their housings, and he throbbed with Green Kryptonite energy as it coursed through his body. "Am not any kind of run-of-the-mill? Capische?"
"YOU HAVE ONE LAST WARNING!" announced the lead officer, 'JONES' emblazoned upon his helmet. "STAND DOWN, METALLO!"
"Secondly, power down my Kryptonite heart? You trying to kill me, cop?" Metallo pointed a finger at the flying-officer, and a pin-prick size hole in his finger tip opened. The officer's eyes opened wide as a needle thin beam of Kryptonite energy went for him, but he spun in time for it to catch him in the arm. The pain was excruciating, but he was still flying. "'Cause if you try to kill me, I'll kill you, no tryin' about it!"
"Stop!" Superman floated between the police and Metallo. "Clear the skies," he ordered, and immediately the Special Crimes Unit abided. Superman was a deputised member of the force, and even if he wasn't, these men and women would listen. Only one officer kept his weapon levelled on the villain, and Superman noted that his helmet was labelled 'KENT'. What? thought the Man of Tomorrow, but he disregarded it, and turned his attention back to his opponent. The weapon he had created was holstered at his back, hidden by his billowing cape.
"Hello, Superman," said Metallo. "Glad to see you're as red and blue as ever. Unperturbed by your swim?"
"John, what's going on?" asked the Man of Steel. "Why are you here?"
"S'all part of the employment package," said Corben, smiling, "I'm doing this as a favour for someone."
"I don't want to fight you, John," Superman said slowly. The police had created a perimeter, giving these two super-powered opponents room to fight. "I really don't."
"Shame. Because I was paid to fight you--!" Metallo unleashed old reliable-- a blast of Green K-- that Superman fought back against with his heat-vision. He pushed hard, the Green K weakening him by proximity, but he knew that if he soldiered on, did what he'd been taught to do and put that pain in a box, then he could finish this. He disengaged his heat vision and shot up and around, slamming his fist into Corben's face-- and barely denting him. "Heh." Metallo wound his fist round and caught Superman in the ribs. The Man of Tomorrow skittered across the now-empty street, and hit a wall hard. He clutched at his side, a sharp pain that he'd never felt before screaming at him to lie down and black out. "That was your rib, Superman. I'm programmed to take you apart, piece by piece. Ain't no humanity left in this body of mine, it's all engrams and personality downloads. I am not what I was before."
"I noticed," said Superman. But metal is still metal-- He poured on the heat vision, channelled all his strength through his eyes and into the beams that shot out from his eyes, and then, when Metallo was suddenly so hot that the car next to him began to melt, Superman breathed in deep, and exhaled hard, ice-cold arctic breath hitting Metallo like a compact hurricane. Metallo continued to trudge forward, footfall after footfall. His body shifted, morphed, but didn't crack and break under the pressure-- he grinned, and shook his head.
"You don't know what I'm made of, do you?" snapped Metallo, charging toward Superman. Kal leaped over him, but wheezed as Metallo clicked on the Green K. "I've been wanting to play with you for some time, alien. Got me some special toys to make you go loopy." Metallo grabbed Superman by the ankle, and arched his arm up, and then down, slamming Superman into the sidewalk. "Green, your favourite," he said, preparing to throw him into the ground again, "Red, which excites me to no end, and Gold, which I'll save for a rainy day-- or two minutes, depending on how this story goes."
"You're going to have to," said Superman, his heat vision scouring through Metallo's wrist and cutting off his metal hand. He breathed in deep, all his strength going into that attack, and he climbed to his feet, and began to run away-- only to be caught in the back by a tremendous blast of energy-- he suddenly felt all his strength go, and he hit the ground hard, his hands scuffing and bleeding, his chin cut up where he'd hit hard. His skull felt rattled, his brain felt like it was going haywire. Glistening energy dissipated up from his cape, and he realised what Gold K did-- it stripped you of your powers.
"I've been told," Metallo said, slowly walking toward Superman, "that Gold Kryptonite strips one of yours clean of your powers for fifteen seconds. A lot of £$%^ can go down in that amount of time. I'll only need one."
"Watch your mouth," said Superman, again climbing to his feet. He was dizzy, uneasy on his feet, but the smile on his face unnerved Metallo to no end. "There could be kids watching."
Metallo's hand crawled up his leg, up his torso, down the length of his arm and reattached itself precisely, cables lashing down and finding the ports that would secure it back to it's proper location. He opened up his chest, Green K crackling, when--
"Metallo, right?" He turned as a new voice spoke, and was thrown back by a gust of wind, toppled over by Superman suddenly dipping down and catching the back of Metallo's knees with his side, and then lifting himself up as his powers returned. "I've heard about you."
"Glad you got my message," said Superman, weakly. Supergirl and Superboy floated above the scene, both eager to assist. Supergirl was floating in front of Superboy, and Superman shot up to join them within seconds of their arrival. "Kryptonite heart," he told them, "Keep your distance-- Kon, I need you." He whispered something in Kryptonian, an order that only the three Kryptonians could understand. "Understand?"
"Sure thing, Supes," said Superboy.
"Distract him, but don't directly engage him, okay Kara?" asked Superman.
"Can do, Kal," nodded Supergirl.
Supergirl blasted with her heat vision, straight into John Corben's face, and the bio-mechanical sheath that made up his flesh began to melt and pour down his metallic skull. Metallo's silver teeth didn't move, they didn't melt, instead just stayed in their perfect position, a haunting smile carved into the metal skull. Superman was nearby, him too unleashing his heat vision, but Metallo kept trudging forward, all the while Superboy floated overhead, waiting for his in.
"Am made--" Metallo buzzed, "--from superhard, supermalleable super-substance--" He rolled his head around, and pointed an open palm toward Supergirl. Superman exhaled hard, and the hand clanked against Metallo's hip. "hhhr... you can't--"
Superman vanished from sight, and Supergirl poured on the pressure-- the heat was impossible, and the stone beneath Metallo's feet began to melt with every step he took. Superboy darted about in the sky, rueing his own lack of heat vision, but waiting for his opportunity-- Superman sped across the ground, and then caught Metallo in the chin, sending him flying upwards. Superman groaned, weakened by the Green K, but then pulled the weapon from it's holster, aiming it squarely at Metallo.
"What you gonna' do, Superman? Shoot me to death? Haw!" A stray blast of Green K caught Superman and he screamed in agony. Superboy's eyes widened but the Man of Steel kept his hand steady and fired the weapon-- and it hit John Corben squarely in the chest! "What was that?" laughed Corben. "Electromagnetic pulse? I'm insulated, Supes! Ain't nothing gonna' get through this!" He tapped his chest, and then landed hard.
"Yes, Corben," managed Superman, climbing to his feet, his powers returning to him, "you are insulated. And thanks to that discharge, you're a little bit more insulated than you were seconds ago."
Metallo looked at his body, and saw that a thin sheen of what appeared to be plastic had coated his skin. The emerald throb of his power source didn't pierce it. "What is this--?"
"Lead particles and a few other things," said Superman. "You're not going to shoot your way out of it, I made sure of it."
"Well, ain't this a dire predicament. But I'm still Man of Steel enough to beat you to death, you £$%^!"
Superman shook his head. "Kids are present, John, what did I say before? And speaking of--" He looked to Superboy. "Now."
Superman restrained Metallo, and the villain thrashed about as he tried to escape the Man of Tomorrow's iron grip. "What are you doing, you alien bas--"
Superboy smiled as he flexed his fingers. "Right, so I'm not what you'd call 100% pure-blood Kryptonian. Someone had a tinker with my DNA, and here I am, standing before you, pretty damn awesome anyways."
"I don't care, y'little punk kid!"
Metallo broke free of Superman's grip, the Kryptonite in his body surging like adrenaline, but Supergirl caught his fist and shook her head. "Nuh-uh, Metallo." She punched him hard in the under arm and Superman regained his grip. "Hold on tighter next time, cousin."
"I'm trying," replied Superman.
"Hey!" Superboy laughed. "I'm not done! So I'm not 100% like Superman and Supergirl. I'm something else. And I got this one power which confuses the heck out of all the people I show it to. They call it 'Tactile Telekinesis'. As in, I touch--" Superboy put his hand over Metallo's chest. "--- And I do all sorts of awesome things."
"What are you---" There was a noise, barely audible, but Metallo's eyes opened wide as Superboy's powers kicked in. His Kryptonite heart shut down, and Superman released his foe. John Corben hit the ground hard, completely inert.
"Good work, Superboy. I know the brains at S.T.A.R. Labs have some theories on how to make Metallo completely harmless. We'll have them set up a hard storage facility, in conjunction with the SCU. Speaking of--"
The Special Crimes Unit approached, and Superman nodded in recognition. Nemo Jones removed his helmet, but was visibly hurt as he cradled his arm. "Good work, Superman. Glad to see you drop by."
"You're hurt, Captain," said Superman, "get yourself to a medic."
"It's fine, this stuff can take more than that," said Jones, tapping his armour. "SteelTech is built for that kind of bad-assery, after all. Excuse my language."
"Excused," said Superman, smiling. "I think you're allowed to cuss if you're injured, Nemo. There are rules."
"I'm sure, I'm sure," nodded Nemo. "But I do think I will take your advice now. Ow. Ow, ow, crap..."
As Nemo walked away, flanked by his fellow Special Crimes Unit officers, Superman turned his attention to the officer with the helmet marked 'KENT', who removed it and grinned. "Superman, right?" said the devastatingly familiar man. "I'm Chris Kent, new transfer from Midway. Pleasure to be serving side-by-side with the one and only Man of Tomorrow."
"Chris--" Superman's eyes widened. It couldn't be. This man, whom he was told he would never see again, was real, tangible in front of him. Superman's eyes went to work within pico-seconds to scan his bodily structure-- human. One hundred percent human. How-- how-- "Kru?"
Chris leaned forward. "Excuse me? I don't know what you're saying. Crew? Crew what? You want me to join your crew? Is there an open space on the Justice League?" He leaned back, and laughed. "I'll catch you later, Superman. You can count on it."
Kru-El. Kal-El's half-brother. Former Hound of Zod. Former science experiment on Apokolips. Former Doomsday. Formerly taken away from this reality and transplanted to a prison world by Rip Hunter in the wake of a rampage that nearly left the Justice League dead. Kru-El. Here. Human. Or... not? A cosmic coincidence? His bodily structure would suggest... but... how?!
"Superman?" said Supergirl, her hand on his shoulder. "Kal? Are you alright?"
"I... I... " murmured Superman. He shook his head, and looked to Superboy and Supergirl. "It's nothing. We need to get Metallo locked down. Let's fly!"
Metallo's eyes opened. He was in a cage, his naked body held in some kind of stasis field. He couldn't activate his weapons, he couldn't open up his heart. Scientists looked down on him, in his hole, and made notes on clipboards. With great effort, he looked up at them, a malicious smile on his face.
"We can't remove his hearts without risking losing him completely."
"To be fair, Superman informed us that he's a self-professed robot, human brainwaves imprinted onto a computer mind. If we did remove his heart... it would be no big loss. And think of the applications of his body. The K-Generator we have our guys working on... Metallo has a miniaturised version in his chest cavity. Decades ahead of his time. Amazing."
"You're not wrong, but we have to think of the ethical implications." A scientist looked down at Metallo, and smiled. "But you hear that, Mr Corben? You're dead. Long dead. You're just deja vu in a metal skull. Isn't that depressing?"
"Sure," said Metallo. "I'll tell you now, mate. I'm going to remember your face."
The scientists laughed. "What? Remember it as we delete your higher programming and render you wholly inert?"
"No, when I come back for you." Metallo shimmered out of sight, leaving his bonds on the floor, and the scientists with terrified expressions on their faces.
"Where'd he go?!"
"Metallo has escaped! Already!"
Chris Kent sat in his apartment, and pulled off his vest. He basked in the dying glow of the setting sun, and then looked at the device that he had clamped around his wrist. "Physiology reconvergence field." He clicked a button and a shimmer fell over his body, and suddenly, if prying eyes were to look, he would have appeared Kryptonian. Another press of the button and he was 'human' again.
He looked at the transfer papers he'd forged, and he thought back to the trail of breadcrumbs he'd created since his return to Earth-One. He was impervious. Untouchable. He was Chris Kent. No one could tell the world otherwise. "Oh, brother," he whispered, falling back on his bed. "Welcome home."
Lois Lane knocked on Clark Kent's apartment door. In her hand was a plastic bag full of ingredients. She knocked gently once. "Smallville?" When he didn't reply, she knocked harder. "Clark, I know you're in there, your doorman---"
"Sorry, sorry." The door opened slowly, and Clark looked out at his partner. "H-hey, Lois."
Lois was red with anger. "You ran out a back door! I was waiting for you for an hour, and when I sent someone in looking for you, you were gone! I would have missed a big story out in the street if it wasn't for the fact that I came back looking for you later, but hey, that's not the point of contention! Come on, Smallville, we're partners!"
"Y-yeah, sorry Lois," stammered Clark, "I'm not over this bug I've had."
"You've had that for weeks now, Clark! You're a rugged ol' farmboy, where's your resilience?"
Clark considered this for a moment, and then shrugged. "Umm, back in Smallville?"
"Pssh," Lois stormed past Clark, and headed for the kitchen. She threw her plastic bag on the side and began to unpack. "I'm making you soup. I don't care what you say, I'm making you some soup. We've got stories to chase!" She was gesticulating with her hands now, making wild movements with her fingers. "How can I trust you to have my back if I can't trust you to be well? Where's your paprika?!"
"Top cupboard on your left--" said Clark, "Lois--"
"Don't you 'Lois' me!" replied Lane. "Now, go sit yourself down and find something to watch on TV. When I'm done I'm going to watch you eat and then I'm going to put you to bed myself. Comprende?"
"Uh, right, yeah," said Clark, as Lois pushed him down on his sofa and threw him the remote. "Thanks Lois."
"Don't thank me yet!" She said, "You’ve never had my cooking…"
"A job well done, Mr Corben," said his saviour, sitting in the darkness, monitoring the whole of Metropolis with a bay of cameras that surveyed the entire city. "We pushed at the aliens, and they pushed back, just as we expected them to."
"Yeah," said Corben, pulling on a pair of trousers. "You get what you need?"
"Superman listens out for me, I know it," continued the man, "he listens out for the heartbeats of those he deems threats to society. Here, in this underground lab, deep below the city? I'm safe. Insulated, just as you are. Your fracas up above was the distraction I needed to gain entry. Obviously, I had to activate the pulsating camouflage field, but now it's up and running, Superman won't hear me coming, John. Superman won't know that Lex Luthor has returned, until he's lying dead at my feet." Lex Luthor pulled himself out of his chair, and smiled. "From here we shall coordinate the downfall of the Kryptonian menace. And in my spare time I shall tinker with another cancer cure I came up with in my sleep last night. But that doesn't matter, no, no, what matters is the plan. Phase One, entry, has been accomplished. Phase Two comes now. The time for overt movement is over, I won't ask you to reveal yourself again, John. No, the next move is covert, the next move will take us to Stryker's Island, and to the release of some new friends---!"
He pulled his coat tight over his body. He didn't feel cold, but the tingle of familiarity, that niggling nostalgia for home, it created a reaction in that robot-brain of his. Downloaded memories sparked connections in the neural net. That shiver... felt good. He locked his feelings away, most of the time. Turned the mental switch that controlled his pain receptors. But now... he opened his arms wide and looked to the sky as it belched forth rain, thunder and lightning starting to echo and crackle down.
"Welcome home, John," whispered Metallo, as he continued his steady trudge through the streets of Metropolis. "Hell of a town."
Action Comics
Issue #47: "Heart Of Kryptonite, Soul On Fire"
Written by House Of Mystery
Cover by Nathan Kilburn
Edited by David Charlton
Issue #47: "Heart Of Kryptonite, Soul On Fire"
Written by House Of Mystery
Cover by Nathan Kilburn
Edited by David Charlton
Clark Kent and Lois Lane sat in a diner a block down from the Daily Planet, the news playing quietly in the background. They were eating breakfast; they'd been working all night, and most of the morning and now... they'd wrapped their story. Sent it to copy, and Perry White had sent them out to go get some colour in their cheeks. "Well done, children," he had told them, his cigar breaking all health and safety regulations as it hung limply from his mouth, "you have saved the Daily Planet from cancellation for another edition. Don't get complacent! Our livelihoods depends on it!"
"How are your pancakes?" Clark asked, nonchalantly. He knew better than to engage Lois in deep, intellectual conversation over breakfast. She was notching up points toward diabetes, desperately getting her sugar fix so she could function throughout the day. Two cups of coffee stood guard at either side of her plate, and maple syrup oozed over the golden brown pancakes.
"Had better," she replied. She said no more, and Clark smiled, unfolding the newspaper he'd purchased from the vendor before slipping into the diner with Lois.
Senator David Callahan Announces Presidential Bid, he read, stands on platform of 'Truth, Justice and the American Way' in wake of admission of coercion by purported 'Secret Society of Super Villains'
"Hmm," mumbled Clark, shaking his head.
"What's that, Smallville?" asked Lois, finishing her last morsel. "Do you not approve?"
Clark put the paper down and shrugged, before laying out his thoughts. "David Callahan was blackmailed, threatened with torture by the 'Society', right? And he gave them intimate secrets in regards to S.T.A.R. Labs and their programs. Eventually, he put up his hands up and admitted his part in the whole thing before a senate hearing, but that was a few months after the fact. After the Society triggered their raid on S.T.A.R., and he's still come out smelling of roses."
"Did you hear what they did to him?" asked Lois, leaning forward to get closer to Clark. "The Parasite. They sicced Rudy Jones on the man. Stole away his youth for what must have felt like an eternity, threatened him with a fate worse than death if he didn't comply with their demands. Parasite, Clark. You know what a freaky thing he is."
"I got an itch, is all," said Clark, "something isn't right about this."
"You think he's capitalising on his supposed freedom? Coming out against the Society, vowing strict control of the downright naughty metahumans that are running around causing trouble? Singing the praises of the Justice League and all their efforts over the past year? Basically giving the people what they want?" Lois took a sip from her second coffee. "President Stuart is coming to the end of his first term, it's all fair Smallville. It's a shame he hasn't had much to do. Maxwell Lord had it good-- Apokolips! The League forming on his watch, on American soil!" Lois grinned. "Sure, it went through the crapper when he went a bit kooky, and yeah, he's in a military hospital somewhere receiving better treatment than anybody that's ever lived... but ol' Jeb hasn't had a war, he hasn't had something he could have used to really make his term... memorable, I guess?"
"Sure, sure," nodded Clark. He continued to read through his paper, and Lois continued to drink her coffee and recline comfortable in her seat. She looked around, but her eyes were drawn down toward Clark's hands. A concerned look grew on her features, and she reached out to him.
"Smallville... Clark... your hands are shaking... are you okay?"
Clark looked at his hands, and just as she said, they were trembling. He'd never felt like this before. He hadn't felt sick, not until she'd mentioned it. He struggled to his feet, and his brow furrowed. "Whoa," he mumbled, clutching the side of the booth, "don't... don't feel... great..."
"You're pale as a sheet," she said, standing and supporting him. "Jeez, I always forget how massive you are, Clark."
Clark smiled feebly as she helped him toward the exit, but as the feeling of sickness intensified, he pushed back. "No, no... not that... not that way, feel," he put his hand to his mouth, and sprinted to the toilets, away from the front of the diner, and away from Lois, who merely watched the door swing open-shut-open as he rushed in.
"Typical," she said, shaking her head, "can't even hold down breakfast."
He unbuttoned his shirt at super-speed, removed his clothes to reveal the blue and red uniform beneath, and flew out of the window of the bathroom and straight into the light of the Sun. He put some distance between himself and the diner, and lapped in the solar charge that gave him strength. "Rao," he whispered, his strength returning, "what was that?"
In the lower atmosphere within seconds, he focused his vision, and scanned the immediate area-- and saw the cause. John Corben was simply walking, his chest cavity hidden by his leather jacket and white shirt, but still open and projecting Kryptonite rays. He'd last been sighted in Hub City, Superman thought, killed a bartender with a concentrated blast of Green Kryptonite energy, and then countless others. Why? He didn't know. There were whispered links to the Society, but he didn't have time to check.
He knew he had to keep his distance. Metallo's heart was his source of power, and it was capable of killing Superman with enough exposure. He concentrated. He scanned Metallo's body, but it was strange-- he couldn't get an exact bead on what his armour body was made up of. The inner working of his cybernetic parts were hidden, and the heart chamber was a complete void that he couldn't see into. What was going on?
Metallo turned, and squinted. His eyes zeroed in on Superman, just under thirty miles up from where he stood. "Well, hello," whispered the metal-man, his Kryptonite lenses clicking into place in front of the beam projector resting in front of his spine. He aimed, calculated, and then fired off a shot of red, searing energy--
Superman barrelled round the initial blast, but instantly buckled in agony as beads of energy sifted toward him before dissipating. "What was that--?!"
Metallo clambered atop a parked car, his heavy footsteps crunching into the hood, and then aimed his wrist projectors and chest beam up at Superman, and he began to fire, gold, green, red, a swirling convalescence of Kryptonite energy shooting straight up to the Man of Steel. Superman again dodged the initial beam, rolled away from the second, but the Red Kryptonite charge rattled through his body and he screamed, plummeting to Earth within seconds.
Metallo looked around at the terrified crowds, and grinned. "Are you not amused?" He jumped off the car and his feet cracked the pavement. He put a finger to his ear, and then his grin faded. "It's time. Make the jump."
Meanwhile, Superman hit Hob's Bay hard, and immediately began to sink. He struggled to regain his composure, to create some sense of buoyancy within himself, but the Red Kryptonite had caused a chain reaction in his cells-- he was in agony, and he couldn't stop it. With Zod, he would have put distance between himself and the General, with Toyman he could have frozen the hordes of killer toy-planes with a gust of his freezing breath, but this-- he couldn't escape his own body, he couldn't battle that-- he hit the bottom of the bay, and lingered there for a moment, before opening his eyes and kicking up to reach the surface.
"Gahhh!" He suddenly breached the surface, and shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the fuzz inflicted by Metallo's attack. "That smarts..." He closed his eyes, allowed his mind to clear, and then lifted up from the body of water and floated just above the surface. "He's upgraded. Can't be his own handiwork. Not possible. So he needed help. And Kryptonite." Red... haven't been hit by red for... for years... and Gold... he'd never experienced Gold Kryptonite before...and only one man could possibly get his hands on that... he thought, before clenching his fist. "Luthor." He spun around in a scarlet hurricane, and was suddenly dry, then he turned back to where he'd been hit, and scorched toward the scene.
Metallo was long gone, heavy imprints left into the sidewalk where the cybernetic villain had vanished into the sewer system. Superman grimaced. He'd been unlucky-- Metallo had taken him by surprise, and he'd never find him in the lead-lined sewers that Lex Luthor had engineered during his time as a 'legitimate' businessman. "Damn," he said, before looking around and heading North-- to the Fortress of Solitude.
Superman picked up the super-dense white-dwarf-star key to the Fortress and let himself in. He didn't bother with pleasantries with Kelex, instead, he flew straight to his Workshop, and began to think-- his mind ticked away a thousand times faster than any human brain, and within seconds, he knew what he had to do. "I'm a scientist's son," he murmured, putting together a collection of chemicals from the alien inventories he had surrounded himself with, "Time to show that to Metallo." The device resembled a pistol. The mechanism inside? Not so much.
<Master El! What brings you to the Fortress?> buzzed Kelex.
"Work," replied Superman, "Metallo has returned. And I want to try something with him that I've been working on for months now, just in case someone like him resurfaced."
<Understood, sir,> said Kelex.
"Where is Kon? And Kara?" asked Superman. He closed his eyes and listened about the Fortress, but could hear nothing.
<The young Els are practicing on the training moon orbiting Pluto. Do you wish me to contact them?>
"Please," said Superman, "I need them in Metropolis. I need their help taking down Metallo!"
Yesterday:
He walked through the lobby of the police station, and leaned over to the secretary, who smiled sheepishly as he asked his question. He showed her his papers and she nodded, directing him down the corridor and up five flights of stairs. From there, he was directed by a number of signs, until finally he reached the bullpen of the Metropolis Special Crimes Unit. The offices were deserted, and there were no officers but one about, who sat quietly in his office working on some paper work.
The bearded man knocked gently on the door, and smiled awkwardly. "Hullo?"
The man behind his desk looked up. He was just entering his thirties, dirty blonde hair and a thin scar from his jugular up to just beneath his eye. It had faded somewhat, from whatever had caused it, but it was still a visible mark. His piercing blue eyes looked straight through this visitor, and he tapped his pen on his desk. "...Well?"
"Captain Jones, right?" asked the bearded man, heaving his satchel bag over his shoulder. "I'm looking for the Captain."
Nemo Jones of the Metropolis Special Crimes Unit looked at this newcomer, and eyed him up suspiciously. "And who would be asking?"
"My name's Chris Kent," said the man, scratching his beard and then handing the Captain a piece of paper. "And I'm a new transfer straight from Midway City."
"Chris Kent? I've been expecting a transfer, but no-one by your name," said the officer.
"Yeah, mix up on our end," said the man, nodding. "I know that MPD are relocating offices, so I thought it would be as good a time as any to come aboard. Sounded like something I wouldn't mind being on the ground floor of, you know?"
Nemo smiled. "Sure. But we're moving shop. You're lucky to have caught me, we're closing the station down, moving to the plaza a few blocks across."
"Oh, I just flew in, didn't have time to check," answered Chris. "But if you give me some directions?"
"Let me have a look at that paperwork again," said Nemo, re-reading the letters. "Not much of a detective if you couldn't figure out we're gutting the place, are you?"
"Well, the tarps over everything were a hint," said Chris, "but better hearing it from the horse's mouth, I always say."
"Right, right..." said Nemo. "Well, if you wait a few minutes, I'm just finishing up here, we'll walk down there together. You can buy me a coffee, rookie."
"Rookie?" repeated Chris. He considered this for a moment before grinning. "Alright, Captain."
Now:
Metallo sat in the diner, his chest cavity exposed, throbbing Green Kryptonite in his small corner booth. He'd ordered the full-breakfast meal, and had stated his intention not to pay when he arrived. He'd grinned, and threatened to melt their faces off if his demand of a good breakfast wasn't delivered. The police arrived soon after, but it was strange, they weren't the usual uniformed sonsofbitches the armoured man was used to-- they were flying in the air, rocket packs on their backs.
"JOHN CORBEN! POWER DOWN YOUR KRYPTONITE HEART AND LEAVE THE DINER WITH YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD AND YOUR WEAPON SYSTEMS DISENGAGED."
Metallo stood, and looked over his shoulder to the chef, sweating over a pan full of bacon. "Don't stop cooking. I'll be back."
"Y-yessir!" murmured the cook.
Metallo pushed the door of the diner open and looked around at the police forces assembled. "Firstly," he said, "Bravo," he began to applaud, surveying the threat to his existence as it was, "I mean, top marks on the intimidation factor. Learning a thing or two from Big Blue himself? Yes, flying is scary for your run-of-the-mill hoodlum. I, on the other hand?" Discs of flesh around his body whirled into their housings, and he throbbed with Green Kryptonite energy as it coursed through his body. "Am not any kind of run-of-the-mill? Capische?"
"YOU HAVE ONE LAST WARNING!" announced the lead officer, 'JONES' emblazoned upon his helmet. "STAND DOWN, METALLO!"
"Secondly, power down my Kryptonite heart? You trying to kill me, cop?" Metallo pointed a finger at the flying-officer, and a pin-prick size hole in his finger tip opened. The officer's eyes opened wide as a needle thin beam of Kryptonite energy went for him, but he spun in time for it to catch him in the arm. The pain was excruciating, but he was still flying. "'Cause if you try to kill me, I'll kill you, no tryin' about it!"
"Stop!" Superman floated between the police and Metallo. "Clear the skies," he ordered, and immediately the Special Crimes Unit abided. Superman was a deputised member of the force, and even if he wasn't, these men and women would listen. Only one officer kept his weapon levelled on the villain, and Superman noted that his helmet was labelled 'KENT'. What? thought the Man of Tomorrow, but he disregarded it, and turned his attention back to his opponent. The weapon he had created was holstered at his back, hidden by his billowing cape.
"Hello, Superman," said Metallo. "Glad to see you're as red and blue as ever. Unperturbed by your swim?"
"John, what's going on?" asked the Man of Steel. "Why are you here?"
"S'all part of the employment package," said Corben, smiling, "I'm doing this as a favour for someone."
"I don't want to fight you, John," Superman said slowly. The police had created a perimeter, giving these two super-powered opponents room to fight. "I really don't."
"Shame. Because I was paid to fight you--!" Metallo unleashed old reliable-- a blast of Green K-- that Superman fought back against with his heat-vision. He pushed hard, the Green K weakening him by proximity, but he knew that if he soldiered on, did what he'd been taught to do and put that pain in a box, then he could finish this. He disengaged his heat vision and shot up and around, slamming his fist into Corben's face-- and barely denting him. "Heh." Metallo wound his fist round and caught Superman in the ribs. The Man of Tomorrow skittered across the now-empty street, and hit a wall hard. He clutched at his side, a sharp pain that he'd never felt before screaming at him to lie down and black out. "That was your rib, Superman. I'm programmed to take you apart, piece by piece. Ain't no humanity left in this body of mine, it's all engrams and personality downloads. I am not what I was before."
"I noticed," said Superman. But metal is still metal-- He poured on the heat vision, channelled all his strength through his eyes and into the beams that shot out from his eyes, and then, when Metallo was suddenly so hot that the car next to him began to melt, Superman breathed in deep, and exhaled hard, ice-cold arctic breath hitting Metallo like a compact hurricane. Metallo continued to trudge forward, footfall after footfall. His body shifted, morphed, but didn't crack and break under the pressure-- he grinned, and shook his head.
"You don't know what I'm made of, do you?" snapped Metallo, charging toward Superman. Kal leaped over him, but wheezed as Metallo clicked on the Green K. "I've been wanting to play with you for some time, alien. Got me some special toys to make you go loopy." Metallo grabbed Superman by the ankle, and arched his arm up, and then down, slamming Superman into the sidewalk. "Green, your favourite," he said, preparing to throw him into the ground again, "Red, which excites me to no end, and Gold, which I'll save for a rainy day-- or two minutes, depending on how this story goes."
"You're going to have to," said Superman, his heat vision scouring through Metallo's wrist and cutting off his metal hand. He breathed in deep, all his strength going into that attack, and he climbed to his feet, and began to run away-- only to be caught in the back by a tremendous blast of energy-- he suddenly felt all his strength go, and he hit the ground hard, his hands scuffing and bleeding, his chin cut up where he'd hit hard. His skull felt rattled, his brain felt like it was going haywire. Glistening energy dissipated up from his cape, and he realised what Gold K did-- it stripped you of your powers.
"I've been told," Metallo said, slowly walking toward Superman, "that Gold Kryptonite strips one of yours clean of your powers for fifteen seconds. A lot of £$%^ can go down in that amount of time. I'll only need one."
"Watch your mouth," said Superman, again climbing to his feet. He was dizzy, uneasy on his feet, but the smile on his face unnerved Metallo to no end. "There could be kids watching."
Metallo's hand crawled up his leg, up his torso, down the length of his arm and reattached itself precisely, cables lashing down and finding the ports that would secure it back to it's proper location. He opened up his chest, Green K crackling, when--
"Metallo, right?" He turned as a new voice spoke, and was thrown back by a gust of wind, toppled over by Superman suddenly dipping down and catching the back of Metallo's knees with his side, and then lifting himself up as his powers returned. "I've heard about you."
"Glad you got my message," said Superman, weakly. Supergirl and Superboy floated above the scene, both eager to assist. Supergirl was floating in front of Superboy, and Superman shot up to join them within seconds of their arrival. "Kryptonite heart," he told them, "Keep your distance-- Kon, I need you." He whispered something in Kryptonian, an order that only the three Kryptonians could understand. "Understand?"
"Sure thing, Supes," said Superboy.
"Distract him, but don't directly engage him, okay Kara?" asked Superman.
"Can do, Kal," nodded Supergirl.
Supergirl blasted with her heat vision, straight into John Corben's face, and the bio-mechanical sheath that made up his flesh began to melt and pour down his metallic skull. Metallo's silver teeth didn't move, they didn't melt, instead just stayed in their perfect position, a haunting smile carved into the metal skull. Superman was nearby, him too unleashing his heat vision, but Metallo kept trudging forward, all the while Superboy floated overhead, waiting for his in.
"Am made--" Metallo buzzed, "--from superhard, supermalleable super-substance--" He rolled his head around, and pointed an open palm toward Supergirl. Superman exhaled hard, and the hand clanked against Metallo's hip. "hhhr... you can't--"
Superman vanished from sight, and Supergirl poured on the pressure-- the heat was impossible, and the stone beneath Metallo's feet began to melt with every step he took. Superboy darted about in the sky, rueing his own lack of heat vision, but waiting for his opportunity-- Superman sped across the ground, and then caught Metallo in the chin, sending him flying upwards. Superman groaned, weakened by the Green K, but then pulled the weapon from it's holster, aiming it squarely at Metallo.
"What you gonna' do, Superman? Shoot me to death? Haw!" A stray blast of Green K caught Superman and he screamed in agony. Superboy's eyes widened but the Man of Steel kept his hand steady and fired the weapon-- and it hit John Corben squarely in the chest! "What was that?" laughed Corben. "Electromagnetic pulse? I'm insulated, Supes! Ain't nothing gonna' get through this!" He tapped his chest, and then landed hard.
"Yes, Corben," managed Superman, climbing to his feet, his powers returning to him, "you are insulated. And thanks to that discharge, you're a little bit more insulated than you were seconds ago."
Metallo looked at his body, and saw that a thin sheen of what appeared to be plastic had coated his skin. The emerald throb of his power source didn't pierce it. "What is this--?"
"Lead particles and a few other things," said Superman. "You're not going to shoot your way out of it, I made sure of it."
"Well, ain't this a dire predicament. But I'm still Man of Steel enough to beat you to death, you £$%^!"
Superman shook his head. "Kids are present, John, what did I say before? And speaking of--" He looked to Superboy. "Now."
Superman restrained Metallo, and the villain thrashed about as he tried to escape the Man of Tomorrow's iron grip. "What are you doing, you alien bas--"
Superboy smiled as he flexed his fingers. "Right, so I'm not what you'd call 100% pure-blood Kryptonian. Someone had a tinker with my DNA, and here I am, standing before you, pretty damn awesome anyways."
"I don't care, y'little punk kid!"
Metallo broke free of Superman's grip, the Kryptonite in his body surging like adrenaline, but Supergirl caught his fist and shook her head. "Nuh-uh, Metallo." She punched him hard in the under arm and Superman regained his grip. "Hold on tighter next time, cousin."
"I'm trying," replied Superman.
"Hey!" Superboy laughed. "I'm not done! So I'm not 100% like Superman and Supergirl. I'm something else. And I got this one power which confuses the heck out of all the people I show it to. They call it 'Tactile Telekinesis'. As in, I touch--" Superboy put his hand over Metallo's chest. "--- And I do all sorts of awesome things."
"What are you---" There was a noise, barely audible, but Metallo's eyes opened wide as Superboy's powers kicked in. His Kryptonite heart shut down, and Superman released his foe. John Corben hit the ground hard, completely inert.
"Good work, Superboy. I know the brains at S.T.A.R. Labs have some theories on how to make Metallo completely harmless. We'll have them set up a hard storage facility, in conjunction with the SCU. Speaking of--"
The Special Crimes Unit approached, and Superman nodded in recognition. Nemo Jones removed his helmet, but was visibly hurt as he cradled his arm. "Good work, Superman. Glad to see you drop by."
"You're hurt, Captain," said Superman, "get yourself to a medic."
"It's fine, this stuff can take more than that," said Jones, tapping his armour. "SteelTech is built for that kind of bad-assery, after all. Excuse my language."
"Excused," said Superman, smiling. "I think you're allowed to cuss if you're injured, Nemo. There are rules."
"I'm sure, I'm sure," nodded Nemo. "But I do think I will take your advice now. Ow. Ow, ow, crap..."
As Nemo walked away, flanked by his fellow Special Crimes Unit officers, Superman turned his attention to the officer with the helmet marked 'KENT', who removed it and grinned. "Superman, right?" said the devastatingly familiar man. "I'm Chris Kent, new transfer from Midway. Pleasure to be serving side-by-side with the one and only Man of Tomorrow."
"Chris--" Superman's eyes widened. It couldn't be. This man, whom he was told he would never see again, was real, tangible in front of him. Superman's eyes went to work within pico-seconds to scan his bodily structure-- human. One hundred percent human. How-- how-- "Kru?"
Chris leaned forward. "Excuse me? I don't know what you're saying. Crew? Crew what? You want me to join your crew? Is there an open space on the Justice League?" He leaned back, and laughed. "I'll catch you later, Superman. You can count on it."
Kru-El. Kal-El's half-brother. Former Hound of Zod. Former science experiment on Apokolips. Former Doomsday. Formerly taken away from this reality and transplanted to a prison world by Rip Hunter in the wake of a rampage that nearly left the Justice League dead. Kru-El. Here. Human. Or... not? A cosmic coincidence? His bodily structure would suggest... but... how?!
"Superman?" said Supergirl, her hand on his shoulder. "Kal? Are you alright?"
"I... I... " murmured Superman. He shook his head, and looked to Superboy and Supergirl. "It's nothing. We need to get Metallo locked down. Let's fly!"
Now:
Metallo's eyes opened. He was in a cage, his naked body held in some kind of stasis field. He couldn't activate his weapons, he couldn't open up his heart. Scientists looked down on him, in his hole, and made notes on clipboards. With great effort, he looked up at them, a malicious smile on his face.
"We can't remove his hearts without risking losing him completely."
"To be fair, Superman informed us that he's a self-professed robot, human brainwaves imprinted onto a computer mind. If we did remove his heart... it would be no big loss. And think of the applications of his body. The K-Generator we have our guys working on... Metallo has a miniaturised version in his chest cavity. Decades ahead of his time. Amazing."
"You're not wrong, but we have to think of the ethical implications." A scientist looked down at Metallo, and smiled. "But you hear that, Mr Corben? You're dead. Long dead. You're just deja vu in a metal skull. Isn't that depressing?"
"Sure," said Metallo. "I'll tell you now, mate. I'm going to remember your face."
The scientists laughed. "What? Remember it as we delete your higher programming and render you wholly inert?"
"No, when I come back for you." Metallo shimmered out of sight, leaving his bonds on the floor, and the scientists with terrified expressions on their faces.
"Where'd he go?!"
"Metallo has escaped! Already!"
Now:
Chris Kent sat in his apartment, and pulled off his vest. He basked in the dying glow of the setting sun, and then looked at the device that he had clamped around his wrist. "Physiology reconvergence field." He clicked a button and a shimmer fell over his body, and suddenly, if prying eyes were to look, he would have appeared Kryptonian. Another press of the button and he was 'human' again.
He looked at the transfer papers he'd forged, and he thought back to the trail of breadcrumbs he'd created since his return to Earth-One. He was impervious. Untouchable. He was Chris Kent. No one could tell the world otherwise. "Oh, brother," he whispered, falling back on his bed. "Welcome home."
Later:
Lois Lane knocked on Clark Kent's apartment door. In her hand was a plastic bag full of ingredients. She knocked gently once. "Smallville?" When he didn't reply, she knocked harder. "Clark, I know you're in there, your doorman---"
"Sorry, sorry." The door opened slowly, and Clark looked out at his partner. "H-hey, Lois."
Lois was red with anger. "You ran out a back door! I was waiting for you for an hour, and when I sent someone in looking for you, you were gone! I would have missed a big story out in the street if it wasn't for the fact that I came back looking for you later, but hey, that's not the point of contention! Come on, Smallville, we're partners!"
"Y-yeah, sorry Lois," stammered Clark, "I'm not over this bug I've had."
"You've had that for weeks now, Clark! You're a rugged ol' farmboy, where's your resilience?"
Clark considered this for a moment, and then shrugged. "Umm, back in Smallville?"
"Pssh," Lois stormed past Clark, and headed for the kitchen. She threw her plastic bag on the side and began to unpack. "I'm making you soup. I don't care what you say, I'm making you some soup. We've got stories to chase!" She was gesticulating with her hands now, making wild movements with her fingers. "How can I trust you to have my back if I can't trust you to be well? Where's your paprika?!"
"Top cupboard on your left--" said Clark, "Lois--"
"Don't you 'Lois' me!" replied Lane. "Now, go sit yourself down and find something to watch on TV. When I'm done I'm going to watch you eat and then I'm going to put you to bed myself. Comprende?"
"Uh, right, yeah," said Clark, as Lois pushed him down on his sofa and threw him the remote. "Thanks Lois."
"Don't thank me yet!" She said, "You’ve never had my cooking…"
Now:
"A job well done, Mr Corben," said his saviour, sitting in the darkness, monitoring the whole of Metropolis with a bay of cameras that surveyed the entire city. "We pushed at the aliens, and they pushed back, just as we expected them to."
"Yeah," said Corben, pulling on a pair of trousers. "You get what you need?"
"Superman listens out for me, I know it," continued the man, "he listens out for the heartbeats of those he deems threats to society. Here, in this underground lab, deep below the city? I'm safe. Insulated, just as you are. Your fracas up above was the distraction I needed to gain entry. Obviously, I had to activate the pulsating camouflage field, but now it's up and running, Superman won't hear me coming, John. Superman won't know that Lex Luthor has returned, until he's lying dead at my feet." Lex Luthor pulled himself out of his chair, and smiled. "From here we shall coordinate the downfall of the Kryptonian menace. And in my spare time I shall tinker with another cancer cure I came up with in my sleep last night. But that doesn't matter, no, no, what matters is the plan. Phase One, entry, has been accomplished. Phase Two comes now. The time for overt movement is over, I won't ask you to reveal yourself again, John. No, the next move is covert, the next move will take us to Stryker's Island, and to the release of some new friends---!"
