League of Justice – Page 2

League of Justice #2.3: “The Name of Action”

Unknown LexCorp Research Facility

Barry Allen lay on his cot, completely exhausted. For two weeks he had been systematically tortured by Lex Luthor’s barbarians of pain. He didn’t know where Luthor found people of such heinous, devious natures, but he was sure they were cryogenically preserved and reanimated ministers of the Spanish Inquisition.

“I’m so glad I didn’t go into the organic sciences.” Barry muttered to himself. “BIOLOGISTS ARE BASTARDS!” he shouted at the ceiling. “Human biologists must remove their heart during the first semester.” Barry was back to muttering. “WHAT, DIDJA RUN OUT OF STUFF TO POKE? YOU GREMLINS!” and back to shouting. All of this was for the benefit of whatever poor bastard drew the night shift. Barry found out early on that he was constantly being recorded, both sound and video. As his own little revenge plot he had begun taunting and verbally abusing the scientists who were watching.

“Oh! Pain!! My leg feels fuzzy. Now it smells green! It has the color of six!! Better check it out!!” After two weeks, he was beginning to crack. One thing was for sure, whatever psychologist they had evaluating him must be collecting data for the paper of his or her career.

In the objective, outside-Barry reality, he was being treated fairly well. He was given three nutritionally, and tastefully it must be admitted, prepared meals every day. He was made to exercise and perform a variety of physical and mental tasks. Most of that Barry would probably have performed anyway as to study himself in the wake of his accident. What he grew to hate were the constant blood draws and medical tests. MRI, PET, CAT, EEG, EKG, etc – he’d had all the acronyms and letters more times than he could count now. But even then, he was treated humanely and suffered very little physical discomfort.

Still, imprisonment is imprisonment. Tests without consent is abuse. Torture is torture.

He had tried pleading to speak with Lex Luthor, with anyone in charge, with anyone at all, but outside of his tests and questions about his feelings (mental and physical) he had talked with no one. Most of his responses were collected electronically by a computer that seemed to only run the medical testing software.

For two weeks this had lasted. In that time, the scientist part of Barry Allen continued to function. He knew that his physical responses had passed human athlete some time ago and were approaching the level of human extraordinary. His mind and his mental faculties now operated on a level somewhere beyond genius and at a speed never before seen. He could calculate large numbers in an instant, he had nearly perfect recall of everything back to his accident. His mind before the accident seemed flash frozen, he could remember no more or less about events and things before then than he could before. Knowledge gained before his accident was just as accessible now as then. But anything he had learned since, anything experience since, was recalled or remembered with perfect clarity and as quickly as if it had just been learned or experienced.

Emotionally, Barry was reacting just as one would expect. He was enduring, but with less and less patience as the imprisonment lasted.

It was in the beginning of his third week that Barry discovered just how much he had changed, just what exactly his accident had done to him, and just what the testing of the LexCorp scientists had unleashed.

He was running on a treadmill, breathing heavily, as he had been running for nearly twenty minutes. He had not slept well, and was more irritable and annoyed than usual. Every second that he ran his frustration mounted. Suddenly, he had more than he could handle. Out of sheer frustration, he yelled and ran as fast as he possibly could. It wasn’t very fast, but what happened next happened in a fraction of a fraction of an instant. There was a bright flash and Barry vanished. The wires that had been connected to his head and body simply fell to the floor, or dragged along the still moving conveyor belt of the treadmill.

From Barry’s perspective, he was running, and was very, very irritated. He was screaming to himself, mostly incoherently, and the only constant thought was “I must get free, I must get free, I must get free” he was repeating it like a mantra, one word for each footfall, pound-pound-pound-pound-I-must-get-free- when all of sudden everything flashed brightly and the lab vanished to be replaced by sandy hills and scrub brush and he was stumbling to a halt in the middle of a desert. There were no buildings in sight, no people, only bright, burning sun.

What the hell? he thought, as he started running up a small, sandy hill. What. The. He..flash. The desert vanished and he was in a dusty, dirty plywood city. More a film set, really. Wait…Barry recognized one of the buildings: Mos Espa? He was on….Tatooine?

Exactly four seconds later, Barry realized exactly where he was: the abandoned Star Wars sets in Tunisia, Africa. His frustration and irritation melted into total bewilderment.

“Dude, where did you come from?”

“Huh?” Barry turned around to see a group of overweight Americans. (They could only be from one country by their dress and accents.)

“Dude, you just appeared out of nowhere.”

“I, uh, I don’t know. Say, do you have any water?”

“Yeah, man, here.”

Barry drank the entire bottle that he was offered.

“Thanks. Uh, I need a ride to the nearest city. Any chance you could help? And anyone have a cell phone?”

Silence. Then: “Sure, dude, no problem. Back at the hotel. We were just about done for the day anyway. Come with me. Name’s Phil, by the way.”

“Allen. Barry Allen. Thanks, Phil.”

Phil helped him over the dusty white van that was waiting for them, a bored guide was sitting in the driver’s seat reading a newspaper. After Phil Opened the van door, Barry collapsed on one of the seats, totally exhausted, and immediately went to sleep.

He was shaken awake by Phil a few hours later. “Dude, we’re here.” Again Phil helped him out of the van and into the lobby of the hotel. It was a little rundown and threadbare, but it was serviceable. Thankfully Phil’s room was on the ground floor. Once inside, Barry collapsed on a bed, and again fell fast asleep.

League of Justice #2.2: “Conscience Does Make Cowards”

Isla Paraíso

“The air of paradise will stifle me till all I am is a shadow!” Diana was incensed. She had brought Hallie Jordan from the crash site to a luncheon in the meadow, and the matriarch had graciously agreed to let Hal return to the outside world, provided that she respect the secret of the island.

Another was chosen to escort Hal back to the shore and give her the rubber raft found in her jet and to point her in the direction of her fleet. Diana had wanted to be chosen. Diana had wanted to go all the way, to experience the entire world.

“Absolutely not! The Sisters of Paradise are exiles from the world. Out there is evil and death and the scrabbling of mad beasts. Here is civility and peace. You will not go!”

“Why is this the way of us?”

“In our good conscience, we cannot allow our gifts and abilities and our purity of soul be tainted by those beyond. The Sisters of Paradise seek true tranquility, and that is only possible in sequester.”

“Our conscience will make cowards of us all! If we are so much better than everyone out there, then we should be leading them! We should be helping them make themselves better! There is no superiority when it is hoarded, there is only selfishness and greed!”

“You are a foolish, small girl to not understand what is our purpose. You should meditate and think upon your sins. Return with a pure heart to ask forgiveness.”

With that, the interview with the Matriarch was over. And Diana’s decision was made. There would be no turning back. In the history of Paradise Island not a single woman had ever left. There was a hill, near the cliffs, were the sisters buried their own, year after year, and set an ornately carved statue over their grave. No statue would look over Diana’s grave. She knew not where her bones would crumble to dust, but it would not be here.

Diana returned to her dwelling, a small hut built into a tree. She gathered there her most precious possessions, really all she owned that was unique to her. She collected two bracers of an unknown metal. Long ago a meteor had crashed down upon the island. It was mostly rock, but at its core was a metal like none the Sisters had encountered. Her mother, a smith, had shaped it into beautiful bracers, covering from wrist to elbow. To date they had proven impenetrable and unscratchable. When her mother had died in an unfortunate accident, they passed to Diana. Her mother had been of the ruling line, third in line to be Matriarch. As such, she wore a singlet in honor of her office. That, too, had become Diana’s. She packed that, after all, she was a princess, even if it was of a people she was about to leave. An exiled princess…it had a melancholy ring to it. Next Diana grabbed a length of rope, more a whip than lasso. It was woven of high tensile cord, yet soft to the touch. It coiled tightly and resisted water and heat. Diana was an apprentice weaver and the rope was her graduation project. All that remained to make her a master of the craft was time and practice. Practice she doubted she would now get.

Diana dressed. She pulled on tall boots, tight breeches, a red corset, and over all a snug cloak of deep blue. Her crow black hair she pulled back into a tight braid. Beneath her sleeves her corsets gripped her arms. At her side her whip hung, waiting for action. Diana was ready, a woman seeking the wonders of a world beyond.

Before she left, she climbed to the top of the cliffs, and looked out over Paradise Island. She never intended to return, and wished to bid it farewell. Once there, she breathed deep of the island air. It was full of ocean, tinged with the earthiness of deep jungle, and the tantalizing fragrance of a thousand island flowers. She would miss her home, but she knew she must leave. Diana’s destiny was beyond the shores and shield, beyond the trees and tribal rules. Diana’s destiny was somewhere out there, in the wide world beyond.

Quite unintentionally, Diana found herself chanting a soft song of farewell:

Paradise, my paradise
I will see you no more
Paradise, my paradise
Sleep now and forever more
I will see you again, once upon a dream
I will walk your paths, bathe in a stream
I will run and drink your wind
To you my soul I will send
When I die, greet her warmly
Shelter her from the world’s storms
Paradise, my paradise
Remember me

Tears falling, she ran across the tops of the cliffs to a waterfall. Taking a single large, last stride, she leaped, into the empty air, down down down with the falling of the water, throwing her life to the fates. She crashed, splashed down into a deep blue pool at one end of a lagoon that led to sea. Breathing deep, once she reached the top of the water, she dove down again. Stoking hard, she swam out of the lagoon and into the ocean. It was cold and crisp and blue.

After about half an hour of swimming she spotted a yellow raft, with a single small figure off in the distance. Almost there. Diana’s freedom bobbed on the waves, guided by a female hand. Diana drew comfort from that, the fact that she was swimming from a mother’s embrace into the embrace of one that felt a sister to her, though they barely knew each other. A smile stole across Diana’s face, and she kicked harder. One last dive beneath the waves and she would be there.

Bursting forth from the water, she saw she startled Hal Jordan.

“What the hell?”

“Hal. It’s me, Diana. Can I come with you? I seek asylum in the United States of America. I can no longer stay in Paradise. I need to see the outside world. I need to walk it. Please, can I come with you?”

“Uh. Yeah. Sure. Though I don’t know how I will explain you to my commanding officer. But yeah, come aboard, sailor.”

Hal threw a mock salute and reached down to help pull Diana from the sea.

Diana brushed water from her face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”

Her smile refused to fade. Everything now was new. Behind her the island had vanished into the night behind the Sisters’ shield, but Diana did not see it. She was looking ahead to the future. Grabbing a paddle, she helped guide the small craft across the ocean depths.

League of Justice #2.1: “Fly to Others”

An Unknown Island

Is everyone on this island female? I thought. Not that that is a bad thing, as I happen to prefer the company of women casually and sexually, but this is a little bizarre. Reminds me of some planet that Captain Kirk would visit: the Carefully Hygienic, Patently Beautiful, Stunningly Sixties Girl Planet. Ha. I crack myself up.

So, to recap, I was on a routine scouting mission testing a new type of combat jet aircraft, scouting nothing but what was supposed to be Atlantic Ocean when I hit something I couldn’t see, encountered a shit load of turbulence, and crash landed on a beach. And was found by a gorgeous woman who calls herself Diana. How’s that for a day in the life of a test pilot?

Apparently, somehow, this entire island is shielded which makes it invisible. No, don’t ask me, I don’t know how. It seems impossible, but then neither I nor the advanced sensors in the jet noticed the island I crashed into until most of my plane was crumpled, flaming metal.

Anyway, Diana is taking me to her people, I guess, who apparently are all women from what she is telling me. At least she promises food. Nothing makes a combat aviator hungry like combat aviation.

We finally get to a clearing, and it is clear they are shielding me from their society as they have laid out a picnic and I am told that a matriarch will come to see me. Yeah, don’t take the tiny outsider to your secret city on your invisible island. That’d be too much. I guess I really shouldn’t be so snarky. It isn’t like a castaway would get a tour of the bridge or the ops centre on the U.S.S. Enterprise if they were picked up lost at sea.

So, the food is good. Some sort of fire roasted animal, coconut and a few other fruits I can identify, plus a few I can’t. There are a few other women here, but none have said anything beyond introducing themselves. My god, are they beautiful. I would sleep with any of them at the drop of some panties and thank them for the privilege. No wonder they keep this island hidden. Every male and lesbian on the planet would be on their shores within minutes as soon as the word got out.

Sorry, I really must focus. Especially since the Matriarch is coming. And here she is. She is older than the rest, which makes sense. She welcomes me to the island, which is apparently called Isla Paraíso, or Paradise Island. I catch the eye of a particularly cute girl. Paradise Island, indeed – FOCUS, Hal. Focus! I am an honored guest, but will not be permitted to stay. I will be taken to the shore and sent off the island. No mention right now as of how, seeing as my jet is a burnt hulk. They will have someone go with me. Huh, at that, Diana perked up (heh- dammit, Hallie Jordan. Focus!). I bet she asks to go with me. She does and is denied. She looks super pissed. I wonder why. Oh well. They are clearing up lunch. I guess this is it. Another woman is introduced to me, Nepherie. Hello Nepherie. She is cold and austere and a pretty hot blonde. Oh, I give up. These girls are wearing nothing but white billowy robes. How am I not supposed to notice?

Anyway, ice princess takes me back through the jungle and to the coastline. Ah. Now I see how they want me to get home: my escape raft. How fortunate they recovered it from the wreckage, which I notice has mysteriously disappeared. All that remains of my unfortunate accident is a line of scorched earth. I’m obviously not going to be able to report the location of the island without my flight recorder. I guess I will have to report the jet lost at sea after engine failure or something.

Evidently these people know where the battle group is. Nice. Ice princess is giving me bearings to head to once I am at sea and away from the island. Well, nothing for it. Ice Princess wades out past the breakers to get me to calmer ocean, swimming the last part of the way. That was nice of her. She then dives beneath the water and I never see her again. I shrug. Her loss. I remove a plastic paddle from its straps and start paddling. This is going to take forever. Suddenly, the emergency beacon in my flight suit starts beeping. Oh, that will definitely help. I thought it was broken. I turn around and am shocked to no longer be able to see the island. I apparently just passed beyond their electronic frontier. Invisible islands. What will they think of next?

Still I keep paddling. No sense in sitting here idle. Besides, night is falling and the wind is picking up. It’s getting cold out here. I wish the island beauties had given me a blanket or something.

Something erupts from the water behind my raft. I turn expecting a dolphin or a shark or something. Instead, it is Diana. What the hell?

She is asking for asylum in the United States of America. A defector? From paradise? She is talking about how she feels trapped and wants to experience life outside the island. I guess that makes sense. I have no idea what I am going to tell my commanding officer about how I crashed into the ocean and somehow still managed to pick up a date, but I am sure with Diana’s help I can come up with something that sounds plausible. I haven’t decided if I will tell them about the invisible island or not. I wasn’t exactly told not to, but the matriarch did express a wish to remain hidden. Diana is telling me she’ll handle that. Oh good. I feel so much better.

At least she can help paddle. We strike our paddles into the water, and push towards the U.S. NAVY.

What a weird day.

League of Justice #2.0: “No Traveler Returns”

United Arab Emirates

Bruce Wayne stood and stared out of the window of his penthouse in the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world. He was in Dubai for the annual Wayne Family Retreat, capital letters the way Alfred pronounced it, that his butler arranged for him every summer in the hiatus between school years. It was a chance to leave the gritty, dark streets of Gotham behind and experience the world. He had been all over the world to all the top cities since he was five. In the early days, Alfred went with him. Since he turned thirteen, Alfred sent him alone.

“You don’t need me to guide you, Master Bruce, or to hold your hand,” the butler had said.

And so Bruce was alone in the United Arab Emirates. He was looking forward to seeing the city, experiencing the night life, maybe even making a few friends. As it turned out, he would do none of those things. Alfred had other plans.

In a former life, before growing old and seeking work as a butler, and before being hired by Patrick Wayne, Bruce’s grandfather, to look after the Wayne family, Alfred led…a different life.

Alfred Pennyworth went by a different name. He was a different man. He was a soldier of fortune, a revolutionary, a patriot, an outlaw, a criminal, a brawler, and a gentleman. He fought in Laos, the Congo, Bosnia, Russia, Burma, Columbia, the Falklands – almost anywhere there was a fight, good pay, and the promise of a good time. He chased outlaws, terrorists, thieves, bandits – anyone whom he was commissioned to chase.

One man he was continually tasked to apprehend and bring to justice was a man labeled a terrorist by most of the world’s governments, a man named Ra’s Al Ghul. In all his years and all his time, Alfred only got close to Ra’s al Ghul on three separate occasions. The first, he had him locked in the scope of a sniper rifle.

“I’ve got eyes on target. Preparing to fire.”

“Roger, Falcon One. Firing is ordered.”

In the fifteen seconds it took to relay the message to headquarters, squeeze the trigger, and for the bullet to commence its flight, another man walked in front Ra’s al Ghul. Before the unfortunate savior’s body hit the ground, Ra’s had disappeared.

It would be years before the second time that Alfred got close, this time as a prisoner. Alfred was ambushed in the middle of the Sahara Desert on a hunt for a local militia leader while scouting by himself. The ambushers turned out to be members of the Underground Society, Ra’s organization. Alfred spent three weeks being interrogated and tortured before he gave up the location of the rest of his outfit. Ra’s was so impressed by Alfred’s tenacity and resistance to the abuse that he let him go and disappeared into the desert.

The third time that Alfred met Ra’s al Ghul, was two weeks prior sending Bruce to Dubai. They met at Wayne Manor, just outside of Gotham City.

“Welcome, honored guest.” Alfred bowed.

“I am welcomed.” Ra’s dipped his head in return of the bow. “Why have you summoned me here? Not to finally collect on my bounty, I presume?”

“No. I request a favor.”

“Interesting. Continue.”

“My ward, Bruce Wayne, has had a…difficult life. Because of this, he feels a yearning to fight injustice. He has tried to train himself to take on the injustice he sees, but he is unrefined, reckless, and lacking in formal training. I would ask you to give him the skills he needs.”

“Why me? Why a terrorist and an outlaw?”

“You once spared my life out of respect. I am hoping that man still exists. Bruce Wayne bears that same countenance. In another life, he could be your son, and I am too old, else I would train him myself. Besides, Bruce sees me as the doddering butler I have become. He knows nothing of the warrior I once was.”

“You are anything but doddering, my host.”

Alfred smiled. And with that, the interview was over. A sound outside the window drew Alfred’s momentary attention and Ra’s al Ghul vanished.

Bruce Wayne never did get to experience the nightlife of Dubai, at least, not until much later. That very day he was kidnapped from the Burj Khalifa. No one saw the kidnappers, no one knew anything. He simply vanished from his hotel room. His worthy butler flew to Dubai and demanded action by the authorities. He threw the weight of the Wayne name and fortune behind the manhunt, but for three months the effort was in vain. No trace of Bruce Wayne was ever found. Alfred returned to America and to Gotham to wait for the inevitable return of a casket instead of a man.

It was early November before Alfred saw Bruce again. By this time the act had become real and Alfred had despaired that Ra’s had actually killed Bruce.

It was a rainy, cold day in Gotham. Alfred was in the kitchen, brewing a bit of tea, when he heard the door to Wayne Manor open. He rushed out into the hall. There stood Bruce, but not Bruce. Alfred could see in his eyes, on his face, that a change had come. The wild, angry boy that left for the desert had returned a cold, furious man, molded and shaped.

Batman spoke.

“Hello, Alfred. Sorry I’ve been gone so long. You should probably call off the search now. I was…delayed. But I had a great vacation, thanks.”

Alfred smiled at Bruce’s wry humor.

“Master Bruce…I’m so glad you’re safe. Your father would never have forgiven me for failing to protect his son.”

Bruce smiled.

“I’m back and I’m fine, Alfred. I’ll tell you about it sometime. In the meantime, is there anything to eat? I’m rather hungry.”

Behind Bruce Wayne, Batman simmered, waiting to be unleashed. Ra’s al Ghul had trained him well.

League of Justice #1.9: “His Quietus Make”

Central City, Missouri

“Well, as far as I can tell, nothing is wrong with your vision. Perfect 20/20. As to why your vision suddenly got better and why your eyes changed color, I’m really sorry, but I can’t say.”

“Thanks, doc. I’m glad to know nothing’s wrong at any rate.”

“Well, there I can say: you are just fine.”

Barry Allen exited the ophthalmologist’s office reassured but still uneasy. It had been more than a week since his lightning accident, and he still didn’t have answers. And it wasn’t just his vision or his eye color that had changed. He was thinking quicker, moving quicker, everything about his life seemed faster somehow. And he couldn’t explain it. The best possible solution sounded like something out of a comic book: lightning combined with random chemicals, and charged heavy water mutated his cells. While such events weren’t unprecedented, usually death followed such mutations. As a rule, random mutations that were not evolutionarily based tended to be unhelpful. Cancer was a mutation. So were most genetic disorders. Mutation of things in the human body was usually a recipe for disaster. Somehow, Barry’s mutation was beneficial. Somehow, the lightning, the nature of the chemicals and his groundbreaking heavy water formula induced a quickening in Barry’s cells. He had noticed his metabolism was also getting faster. It was harder to get drunk, he was eating twice as much as normal and had lost extra fat around the edges.

Without a solid explanation and with a test group of exactly one, the only thing to do was to keep careful notes and go about his business. And business today was LexCorp. Lex Luthor’s mega-billion dollar corporation had research divisions into everything, and today’s research was heavy water. The experiment, despite the lightning, was still a success and Barry still had to present his results.

The LexCorp building was an smallish skyscraper, modest by Lex Luthor’s standards. The L-shaped Zephrymore Building in Metropolis that was world headquarters for LexCorp was head and top floors above all others, and would remain that way as Lex paid for a law to keep any other new construction shorter than a certain height. Barry shook his head and entered the lobby. How Lex built his buildings didn’t concern him as long as some subsidiary of Lex’s company paid for his research.

He walked up to the girl in the lobby, a Miss Lana Lang by her name tag.

“Hello, I am here for a briefing. Name’s Barry. Barry Allen.”

“Hello Mr. Allen. They are expecting you. Come with me.”

She led him to an-all glass elevator and up to a top floor. Off the elevator there was a glass walled room with a fantastic view of Central City. Also, there was a group of white coated scientists waiting around a conference table. Barry breathed deep. Lana noticed and flashed him a smile.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Half an hour later, Barry was unconscious.

An hour later…

Barry squinted into a super bright light. He couldn’t see anything else. He couldn’t hear much either. He tasted blood in his mouth and his head throbbed.

“Hello? What’s going on?”

Not expecting a reply, he was shocked to hear a kindly voice. It was being transmitted over some sort of communication system. More than that, Barry couldn’t tell.

“Hello, Mr. Allen. My name is Lex Luthor. I apologize for your treatment, but certain measures must be taken.”

“Wha..What is going on, sir? Didn’t you like my presentation on heavy water?”

Lex chuckled.

“It isn’t that, Mr. Allen. It is your remarkable accident that I am interested in. I read all about in the Central City Herald. Your girlfriend is such a…passionate…reporter when it comes to you.”

“You leave her alone!” Barry shouted, struggling against his restraints.

“Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Allen. I have absolutely no interest in Ms. West, I assure you. I want you and your…abilities.”

“What? I can think fast, see better, and move quickly. You want that?”

“Of course, Mr. Allen. As your mind works quicker I am sure you can apply your abilities to say, a super soldier, or perhaps, an enhanced scientist, much like yourself, able to work much quicker towards a solution. Really, the possibilities are endless, and the applications limitless for a creature of enhanced speed. And to think, all this from a flash of lightning.”

“But I don’t know how it happened! I don’t understand it.”

“Oh, neither do I. But I do employ the best scientists in the world. Coupled with your research into your heavy water project and just a little cooperation, I am sure we will have the answer soon enough.”

“I’ll never help you!”

“Oh, but my dear Mr. Allen, you don’t have to, not willingly anyway. While you were unconscious my men took samples of your blood and tissues. We will keep you for observation and experimentation, of course. Your blood is only the beginning. And once we have our answers, we will let you go.”

Barry thought that unlikely.

“I think that is unlikely. I know who you are and I am not afraid to press charges.”

Again, Lex chuckled.

“Oh, but Mr. Allen. You are mistaken. It isn’t Lex Luthor who kidnapped you, not provably anyway. My voice can be faked, even my image, should you actually see me. No one you interact with will be identifiable. We are quite safe from your deluded ravings. Besides, I have a magnificent legal department. Last I heard you were quite penniless. Crime pays very well, Mr. Allen, and criminal lawyers are always worth the expense. No one cares about morality or even legality any more. The world is an economic world, and I have the only currency that matters: currency. Now, good night, Mr. Allen. You have a busy day ahead of you.”

With that, the lights snapped out, leaving Barry Allen in total darkness. He struggled, but uselessly.

“Well. This was an unexpected outcome of the briefing. And my mom wanted me to become a doctor.”

Quipping to the dark was meant to make it less threatening. It didn’t work.

League of Justice #1.8: “The Native Hue”

Central City Medical Centre
Central City, Missouri

Barry Allen awoke to a bright light and the steady beeping of heart rate monitors. He tried to look around, but found it was too painful.

“Dude, you’re awake!” The loud obnoxious voice was that of Barry’s best friend, Manuel Lago. They were randomly assigned roommates in their freshman year of undergrad, but now close friends. While Barry had gone into chemistry and the heavy sciences, Manuel was pursuing a PhD in applied engineering and mathematics. Often Barry would stumble on a discovery and Manuel could often figure out how to turn the discovery into a practical tool. Holding a few patents helped stave of starvation while the two continued their educations.

“Hush.” That was the soothing sound of love in the person of Iris West. Iris was a college newspaper reporter when she and Barry first met. She was covering one of his first big discoveries, and he was very eager to talk to her, though not necessarily about science. After a bit of a stop and go start, they became a constant couple. Iris now worked for the Central City Herald, one of the only remaining newspapers in the city, but still occasionally covered Barry’s work, though it had moved from front page college news to page six science column news.

“Hey you…how you feel?” the blurriness finally focused onto Iris’ lovely face. Her eyes were striking blue, and her hair the deepest chestnut. Barry felt he had never seen her as clearly before. Everything about her seemed to shimmer somehow. The colors were vibrant and effervescent.

Barry managed a groaning “oww” before he decided further audible communication would have to wait. His throat, lungs, and chest felt like they had been burned from the inside.

“Actually, you probably shouldn’t talk. You were struck by lightning three times and inhaled some vaporized chemicals along with some heavy water. The doctors kept you in a coma for a few days to make sure you didn’t have residual damage. But they say you should be ok, it will just take time to heal.”

Barry managed a nod. He remembered the lightning, the chemicals. Everything hurt. He felt something soft and warm on his lips. A kiss. That felt good. He must have managed a signal of some sort because the good continued, longer this time.

“Get a room, you guys…” That was Manuel again.

“Actually, Manny, Barry already booked the room. Maybe you should leave.”

“Ha. Right. I’m sure lightning boy will be doing all sorts of loving. But I gotta go anyway. Take care, buddy.”

Barry felt Manny squeeze his shoulder, saw him look over into his eyes, then he left his field of vision, a field that was promptly filled with Iris, and Barry didn’t mind the switch at all.

“Hey lover. I’m so glad you’re ok.” Tears filled her eyes briefly before she wiped them away. “I was so worried.”

Barry held her hand and tried to look as loving as possible. Hooked up to tubes and oxygen and catheters it was hard to manage, but manage he did. At least she smiled back.

A week later…

Barry coughed. Doing so was still painful. He was out of the hospital and at home under strict orders to rest. His first night of rest with Iris was a bit vigorous, but since his bones hurt and breathing hurt, after that she let him rest in peace. It took nearly a week before he could move without constant pain, and breathe without feeling like he was inhaling fire, but he slowly mended. Actually he healed much faster than the doctors first thought, but it felt long enough to Barry. It was at a week that he noticed the first alteration in his body: his eyes were now a dark shade of crimson. Where his irises had been brown, they had lightened to red, with flecks of yellow. He was shaving in the mirror when it suddenly hit him.

“That’s new.” he murmured. Beside him, Iris was applying her makeup.

“What’s new?”

“My eyes. Take a look.” He opened them wide and stared into Iris’ crystal blues.

“Wow. They’re red!”

“Yeah. I wonder how that happened?”

“A reaction? Can you still see ok?”

“Yeah, in fact, better than I used to. I don’t need my glasses anymore.”

“What? You’re kidding?”

“Nope. I have an appointment with an ophthalmologist later, but as far as I can tell I’m fine.”

“Wow. All that from lightning?”

“No, I think the lightning catalyzed the chemicals I was working with. As the lightning was striking, a beaker I had in my hand exploded. I felt the chemicals splatter all over me. That must be it. Once I get back to the lab, I am going to run some simulations.”

“Ok. But take it easy, Bear.” Leaning over, she kissed him hard.

“I will. I promise. Oh! I forgot to mention, my laptop wasn’t plugged in when the lightning hit, so it continued to record data. My heavy water experiment was a success. I have a meeting with someone at LexCorp next week to present my results. This could be my big break!”

“That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to cover it for the Herald. And then celebrate with you after.” She flashed a wicked grin before flouncing out of the bathroom.

Barry turned to follow, but realized he had only shaved half his face. Sighing, he stared back into the mirror and his new scarlet eyes and carefully laid razor to skin. By the time he was finished, Iris was just about to leave.

“See you later, darling Bear. I love you!”

“Love you, Iris. Happy reporting.”

She blew him a kiss and left.

Barry felt like the luckiest man in the world. After all, he had survived not one but three lightning strikes, still had a beautiful woman to come home to, and some new eyes.

Barry dressed for the day and wondered what else the lightning charged chemicals had done to him. He picked up his phone and sent a text to Manuel.

“Come to lab after class. Need 2 run xpermts.”

Barry felt charged with extra energy as he left the apartment and locked the door. It felt like there was an extra bounce in his step. On a whim, he decided to walk to class instead of riding the bus. It was a beautiful day, and good to be alive.

League of Justice #1.7: “A Weary Life”

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Little Dinah loved the smell of cookies baking on a rainy evening. Somehow the damp air inside the efficiency apartment made the smell carry farther, not that there was all that much space. Anyway, it made the apartment smell like love, because Dinah always knew her mother loved her as she baked cookies. The Drake family never had much money, and things like cookies were a luxury, at least the store bought premium cookies. But when her mother splurged food stamps on chocolate chips and made cookies, Dinah felt that something extra special was happening.

Even at 15, Dinah still loved the smell of chocolate chip cookies. Her mom was in the kitchen baking, and Dinah was doing her homework.

Suddenly the door to the apartment slammed open, the door jamb splintering under sudden assault.

“Where are you, whore?!” A massive white man with a thin mustache and slicked-back hair charged into the apartment. Behind him were two bald, white thugs with shiny hand guns. Dinah’s mother ran from the kitchen.

“Not here, Marko. For God’s sake, my daughter is here!”

“Shove it. Bitch aught to know what a whore her mother is. You busted up my friend.”

“He tried to rape me.”

Marko laughed, too loud and too long. “How can you rape a whore? Isn’t that what they are for?” His thugs chuckled. “Bitch, I sent you a premium client and you scratch up his face? Ain’t good for business.”

“Fuck you, Marko. He wasn’t following the rules.”

“Goddamnit, bitch. My rules. My friend. You are as stupid as you are ugly.”

Finally, Dinah had enough. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She thought her mom worked as a waitress, but apparently she had a side business as a two-dollar darling.

“Shut up! You can’t talk to my mom like that! Get out of here!”

Marko responded with a vicious backhand that sent Dinah sprawling. Before anyone could react, he pulled a small pistol and shot Dinah’s mother through the eye. Blood and brains splattered the living room wall. It was then Dinah found her voice. She screamed.

The sound was piercing, loud, and powerful. Glass everywhere in the apartment shattered, the thugs grabbed their heads, and Marko’s ears started to bleed. Dinah stood up and screamed again. Marko sank to the floor and lost his grip on his gun. In that moment, Dinah moved. She grabbed the gun and pulled the trigger again and again and again and again until she emptied the drum magazine. Blowback from what was left of Marko’s face had splashed all over Dinah’s face and shirt. He crumpled to the floor, his head a mass of blood and bone.

Dinah screamed again, this time the thugs just ran, wiping blood from their ears. Dinah fell to the floor sobbing. From the kitchen she could smell chocolate chip cookies burning in the oven. Dinah vomited.

Ten years later…

Dinah sat on her motorcycle as it idled at a stop light. Next to her a bakery was baking fresh chocolate chip cookies. Dinah could smell the cookies baking on the breeze. It made her sick to her stomach. She hated the smell of chocolate chip cookies. As soon as the light turned green, she revved her engine and sped through the intersection. She couldn’t wait to get out of Gotham.

After crying for what seemed like forever that day, Dinah had left the apartment. She never bothered to turn off the oven and discovered the next day that the apartment had burned down and she was presumed dead. The news suited her just fine. From that day, she lived on the streets, bound to nowhere and no one. She even left her name behind, calling herself the Black Canary.

Her mother had always called her that, because ever since Dinah was a tiny girl, she could sing with a beauty that brought tears to her mother’s eyes. “You are my little black canary bird,” her mom would say as Dinah sang and her mother braided her hair. “Sing for me some more, my black canary.” And Dinah would.

For reasons she didn’t understand her larynx could emit sounds at a higher frequency and power than any other she had ever heard of. She made her voice her weapon, as it could incapacitate people with ease, or at a close range, shatter glass, brick or concrete. She could even send resonant waves through metal. The Canary’s Cry she called it.

And so Dinah died, and Black Canary wandered the world, from Metropolis to Gotham and all points in between, and wherever she saw women being taken advantage of, or hurt, or under threat, she made a stand and usually left blood and death and a survivor in her wake.

Dinah never imagined living a life of a vigilante outlaw killer, but then, she never thought she would hate chocolate chip cookies.

Violence changed everything in her life forever.

Finally she reached a highway on ramp leading away from Gotham. Dinah wanted to hole up somewhere quiet and small town-ish for a while. She saw a sign for Metropolis and headed that way, but her destination was a city just outside Metropolis called Smallville. She had heard of a country fair there once, and thought they had a singing competition. Maybe she would enter.

She gunned the engine of her motorcycle and sped off into the brightening day. The storm was past, and a new time was shining through the clouds. Miles raced beneath her wheels and the highway sang a song of peace.

For a rare moment, Dinah smiled beneath her helmet.

League of Justice #1.6: “The Undiscovered Country”

Isla Paraíso

The sky was dark, and threatening, lit from behind the clouds by a sun that wouldn’t shine today. The air was heavy with water and warm, warning of a storm to come.

Her feet pounded against the heavy sand whump whump whump in uninterrupted rhythm. Behind she left divots marking the path she made since she left the jungle.

The ocean waves crashed against the shore, relentless as her footfalls. She let her mind wander their dark and restless surface, then below, where the wet things roamed.

She remembered a day when she went swimming, farther off shore than ever before, racing dolphins. She was faster than most, but there were a pair of wolphins, dolphin-killer whale hybrids, that outpaced her, the first time anything had beaten her in a race other than the wind.

She loved her morning run, especially when it turned from jungle to beach. Isla Paraíso only had beach on half the island, a good fifty miles or so. The other half of the island was comprised of rock cliffs rising hundreds of feet from the ocean floor. Thick jungle with a few plains breaking out of the overgrowth covered the rest of Paradise Island.

She snorted, then regretted it as the snort interrupted her breathing. Paradise Island is what she and her sisters called the island, but it really was anything but paradise. Situated in the heart of the Atlantic, it was prone to be swept by hurricanes, in season and out. It was full of dangerous predators. And, other than the several hundred women who called it home, it was void of intelligent life.

But, she then recalled, there was plenty to make such a place like unto paradise: myriads of exotic birds, thousands of wild flowers in all colors and shapes. Everything seemed to be so vibrant and alive here, like it was protected and blessed in some special way. The pace of life was slow, uncomplicated, unhurried. At least, that would have been paradise for someone that wasn’t her. She craved adventure and excitement, which was why she enjoyed her runs so much. It was the one time of the day she could escape the doldrums and move as fast as her heart desired. While in the jungle, she had to be wary and alert to evade predators and venomous plants and quicksand and dangerous muck and ooze that could ensnare her and leave her somewhat easy prey. She loved the way her pulse pounded when a wildcat caught her scent and swept along in hungry pursuit. Never really in danger, her heart nevertheless quickened with the sensation of being chased in an earnest life or death struggle. She was strong and deadly herself, but one wrong step would leave her vulnerable. She reveled in the excitement of winning the chase when, without breaking stride, she leapt up into the trees and ran along the branches or swung from vines, or when she flat outpaced the wildcat, leaving it breathing hard and searching for slower prey.

She ran barefoot, as always, and relished the sensation of digging her toes into the sand, grabbing it, and throwing it behind her as she ran. She knew that an endless spray of grit was being left in her wake. She again reasoned, like usual, that Isla Paraíso was a paradise to her as well.

Diana reached her favorite place on the shore, a large broken rock that jutted out into the sea. It was an anomaly on this part of the island, there was plenty of rock on the other side, but not here. Diana leapt to the summit, and stood watching the stormy waves. They were gathering energy from the coming storm, more angry and violent than before. She paused from her run, breathing in the tangy salt air. There were few smells, even among the heady aromas of island flowers, that she loved more than the smell of the sea. To her it was a wild call for more than she knew, for a life lived beyond the confines of the island, no matter how paradisiacal. She longed to see what was beyond the sea.

She knew of course that out to the east lay Europe, and beyond it, Asia. That beyond the rock cliffs lay America, arrogant giant that fancied itself a ruler of the world. That above lay an Arctic Circle, and below her island lay an Antarctic wasteland of frozen ice and blinding white snow. She knew the world was vast beyond the confines of Paradise Island, but she was forbidden to see it. Diana and her sisters lived in exile, and had for hundreds of years ever since they found the island. Using selective breeding from the few males who first came with them, and then later science of their own devising, the sisters maintained an entirely female population, ruled by a matriarch. The Sisters of Paradise, as they called themselves, were stronger, smarter, and more potent than most strong men elsewhere on the planet. They were almost goddesses in the genetic perfection they had achieved, and so they named themselves as gods. Diana herself was named for an ancient Roman deity. Diana was the goddess of the hunt, of the moon, and of the giving of life. Diana loved the association, though she often smirked at the presumption of naming one’s daughter after a goddess. She was proud of the heritage her mother bestowed upon her by naming her Diana, and always strived to earn it, day after day.

Dismounting the rock, Diana continued her run along the beach. A light rain began to pelt down from the darkening sky. Diana didn’t mind the rain, mostly she ran fast enough to avoid all but the occasional drop, unless it down poured which it seemed it would do any…now. The falling water was so thick it obscured Diana’s vision, but she laughed and ran faster. Nothing unleashed her soul more than the wildness of the elements.

A loud crack and boom sounded overhead, but it wasn’t lightning nor thunder. Breaking through the clouds, a military jet, smoking and on fire, dove towards the beach. Another explosion rocked the craft, though it little mattered. In seconds the vehicle smashed into the beach in a plume of sand. Diana ran towards it, defying searing heat and striking flames. There was a pilot trapped in the cockpit, a woman. Diana raised a fist and smashed it through the clear canopy. Grabbing the pilot she jerked her from the plane, and ran backwards. There was no time to spare as the rest of the fuel and munitions the plane was carrying exploded spectacularly. A dark, oily smoke rose to join with the dark clouds of the storm.

Diana laid the unconscious pilot out beneath an overhanging banana plant. The large leaves gave shelter from the falling rain. Diana gazed at the military aviator, noting a lack of injuries. She then allowed her eyes to linger on the beautiful visage revealed beneath the helmet, which Diana removed. Diana wondered who the woman was, and how her plane managed to pierce the shielding the Sisters had erected around their island specifically to ward off intruders from the outside world.

Diana smiled. This was different. This excited her more than the wildcat, more than the run, more than the storm.

This was new.

League of Justice #1.5: “When We Have Shuffled Off”

Smallville, Kansas

Clark sat in the dim light of the bunker beneath his dad’s barn in the middle of Kansas. He was staring at a computer terminal, familiar and yet alien. It was built by a long dead society by his real father to yield to Kal-El (Clark’s real name) any information he needed.

The screen read: ENTER SEARCH TERM OR QUERY

Clark typed: KRYPTON

The computer loaded multiple articles on the planet, the word, history, economics, population studies…Clark stopped reading headings after the first 100. He sighed.

“What happened? Where are you?” He whispered to the semi-darkness. Without warning the hologram of Jor-El appeared.

“‘Pride goes before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall.’ As it says in Proverbs. Of course, the assembled wisdom of all Krypton couldn’t save us from ourselves.”

“Wait, you know the Bible?”

“It was written, partly, by ancient Kryptonians who visited earth in disguise to learn of the cultures and environment. Of course, we intended to only leave behind scattered writings as humans. We had no idea our thoughts would one day be thought of as Scripture.”

“Woah.” Clark just let that one sink in a moment. “But what does the quotation have to do with Krypton. What happened to you? Why are you dead?”

“We are dead because we were arrogant and stupid. Our pride preceded our fall. We exploited and ravaged every single fertile planet in our solar system and beyond. We visited a wreak of destruction everywhere we went. We were smarter and stronger than any race we encountered and we assumed any resource we found was ours for the taking. We stole and we pillaged and we burned. We left nothing for anyone else. It was our undoing. Eventually the White Lantern took notice and sent the Black Corps to punish us. When they arrived we…”

“Wait. White Lantern? Black Corps? Who are they?”

“The Lanterns are intergalactic Peacekeepers who have been around as long as time itself. There are various corps who are tasked with different roles. The White Lantern rules all. The Black Corps deals in judgment. When the Black Corps arrived and started attacking our outposts, we knew our time was up. The Black Corps used to simply reset the balance. They would force an aggressive species back to their home world and allow them to slowly rebuild and explore more wisely. But the ages corrupted their purpose and they only sought vengeance and death. They were intent on our total annihilation. All of this occurred while you were still in womb.”

“So the Black Corps destroyed Krypton? How did I escape?”

“Eventually they did. At first we held them off. General Zod, leader of our armed forces, mounted a furious defense. At first we stood ground, but we were outmatched. The Black Corps beat us all the way back to Krypton. It was then I knew I needed an escape plan, but not for me. For you. Our sector’s Green Lantern visited and…”

“What do the Green Lanterns do?”

“The Green Lanterns guard justice. They are peacekeepers and judiciaries of disputes. Our Green Lantern was Maskill, and he was from a nearby planet, similar to Krypton, and Earth, in many ways. He visited and told me there would be no stopping the Black Corps assault. I asked him for help, and he promised to talk to the White Lantern, intercede on the behalf of life. He was about to leave when General Zod landed where we were and attacked Maskill. I didn’t think Lanterns could die, but so great was Zod’s fury that he completely overwhelmed Maskill and killed him. During the battle I fled. I knew then that saving you was the only way to preserve Krypton.”

“How did you do it?”

“I’ll tell you…”

Krypton, 18 years ago

Jor-El rushed into his home, breathing heavily. Lara, very pregnant, wobbled over to him. “Jor, what is it?”

“Maskill. He came to visit me. But Zod showed up. Killed him.”

Lara gasped. “Why?”

“Zod is consumed with rage. He knows we will lose to the Black Corps and Krypton will die. He spends his rage freely on anything that is against him. We must act quickly, I fear now we have little time. With Maskill’s death, the Green Corps will join the fight. We have less time than we thought.”

“Our baby?”

“Yes. He must endure, and with him the knowledge and life of Krypton.”

“Then let us do this now.”

Lara and Jor-El had been planning during Kal-El’s gestation how to save him, at the least, if all went ill in the battle with the Lanterns. Jor-El had built an escape vessel, loaded with an intelligent artificial brain, and with it Kryptonian genetic material. Should their son survive, so would the Kryptonian race. If he came of age, he could artificially inseminate and Earth woman who would give birth to a new Kryptonian. They programmed the ship for Earth, a planet the Kryptonians had studied long ago. Earthling biology was very similar to, if less evolved than, Kryptonian biology. Kal-El would survive and be disguised by the local population. The AI would chose carefully of the millions of potential landing sites to pick an optimal spot.

Performing delicate surgery, Jor-El and a medical robotic technician transplanted Kal-El from his mother to the capsule. Not daring to lose any time, the fetus would finish maturing inside the capsule, and continue for at least a few years on life support, if need be. It wouldn’t take that long to reach earth, but it might take that long to find a suitable surrogate family.

Safely inside, Jor-El programmed the ship to leave, and it did, with a quiet whumpff of anti-gravity engines. Jor-El and Lara held each other close and watched their son rocket off world.

It was then the Black Corps arrived. Two alien beings, each with two heads, scales, and bright feathers trailing down the spine appeared. They were naked, but upon claws they held black rings. They spoke, rasping.

“What is on the pod, and where does it go, Jor of the house of El?”

“Please, it is our unborn son. He is an innocent. I have sent him to exile on Earth. He will know nothing of Krypton and his unborn hands are innocent of our crimes. Let him live.”

There was silence, then one head spoke.

“So be it. You will die. Your crime is known and your punishment will be swift.”

The black rings glowed and suddenly Jor-El and Lara were ashes.

Smallville, Kansas

Clark Kent closed the door to the underground bunker. His heart was heavy with the knowledge of his parents’ death. He walked over to the farm house porch. His mother was on her rocking chair, enjoying the evening, sipping a lemonade. Clark was 17, and leaving the next day for Metropolis and college life. He had won a scholarship and would have a free education. But tonight he was filled with sadness, both for the parents he never knew, and those he would soon leave behind. Ma could see her son was upset. She rose up, walked to him, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Somewhere, out in the prairie, a bird sang to the dying sun.

League of Justice #1.4: “That Patient Merit”

Smallville, Kansas

Clark Kent, now 15, emerged from the bunker beneath his father’s barn. He had come to refer to it as his “fortress of solitude”. It contained an alien space capsule. A capsule he had been placed inside when only a few days old, a capsule that contained a hologram of his father. My space father. Clark reminded himself. His real father, Jonathan Kent, would be heading out into his fields to work after breakfast. Harvest was soon.

Clark had grown with the knowledge that he was more than he appeared, more than everyone thought. Clark had known ever since he had known anything that he did not belong on Earth, that he was an outsider, a loner, one of a kind, an entirely different species. The reality was hard to accept, most days, because he had arms and legs and hurts and dreams just like all his friends and everyone he knew, but there was that capsule. And, there were, well…other things. As far as he knew, none of his friends had nearly unlimited strength, quickness, or the ability to fly. Clark could hear the slightest sounds at extended distances, see the smallest objects or those far away. He could even shoot lasers from his eyes. He was a freak of nature that he didn’t understand. To make it worse, he had acne, often tripped over his own feet, and was incredibly awkward. In other words: Clark was a teenager with extra headaches.

When he was a small boy, he discovered that he could see and hear much more than anyone else, and more than he himself wanted to hear or see. The constant assault on his senses was more than he could bear. His mother, Martha Kent, had spent extra time training Clark to focus on the sounds and sights he wanted to see and hear and to let everything else fade away into a background buzz. Still, most times Clark wore noise canceling headphones that blocked a majority of what he could hear, making him almost normal, and he wore dark glasses that forced him to only see what was immediate. It was explained to his classmates and teachers all his life as a disability, but Clark knew the real truth: in human terms, he was the superior man, the ubermensch that obsessed Friedrich Nietzsche.

At key points in his life, five years old, ten years old, and today on his fifteenth birthday, the capsule that once kept him alive also would reveal history, information, science, or family details in the form of the hologram of his father, a man named Jor-El from a dead planet called Krypton in a far, far away corner of the galaxy. Today the hologram showed him an interface hidden inside a wall panel, an interface that would allow him to search for any piece of information the seemingly endless database held. The training hologram was finished, the rest of his Kryptonian education was up to him. What he would do with it, Clark had no idea.

He took the porch steps two at a time, which meant a single step from ground to porch, and walked into the old farm house. The screen door closed behind him with a slight bang. It was September, but Kansas was still warm. The fading summer warmth swept through the house on the prairie breeze. Clark could smell his mother in the kitchen, and more importantly, the eggs and bacon she was cooking. His father, from the sounds of it, was still dressing upstairs.

“Good morning, Ma.” Clark hugged his mom from behind while she flipped bacon and stirred eggs.

“Good morning, Clarky. What did your father have to say?” He knew she meant Jor-El. Jonathan Kent was always “Pa”, just as she was always “Ma”.

“The rest is up to me. No more guided lessons. He showed me a built in computer, and how to use it. I can look up anything I want to, read anything stored inside.”

“Wow. Well, Happy Birthday from Krypton!”

“Ma-a” Clark elongated the final “a”. He was less enthused by his galactic heritage than was his mother, but then, Ma always was fascinated by anything and everything scientific. It was she that speculated how he could shoot lasers from his eyes: she postulated light emitting cells embedded in his retina, much like those in bioluminescent animals on Earth, but more powerful, that were focused by Clark’s lens and cornea in the reverse way in which they worked for normal sight. But, speculation it remained since the Kents had never let anyone closely examine Clark for “abnormalities”. His special abilities remained a family secret for now.

Meanwhile, Clark poured some coffee into a “World’s Best Dad” mug, and walked it up the stairs to his dad. He knocked on the door.

“Come in” came from inside, specifically the master bathroom. Clark could hear the scraping of his dad’s razor against his face. He was shaving.

Clark opened the door and walked past the bed into the bathroom. Pa Kent finally smelled the coffee.

“MMmm. That smells good. Coffee for the old man? Thanks, Clark.”

“You’re welcome, Pa. Oh, you missed a spot.”

For a brief second Clark’s eyes glowed red, then a small beam of scarlet light leaped from his eyes, ricocheted off the bathroom mirror, and ended on Pa’s face. There was a small flash and a wisp of smoke curled up from just above Pa’s chin.

“Ow! Scamp! I told you not to do that!” Pa’s anger was a mascarade. In truth the laser felt like a bit of a pinch, and wasn’t all that bright, just enough to singe hair. Clark and Pa were close, and they constantly teased each other. It was around Pa only that Clark felt comfortable being completely himself, relaxing into the full range of his super human abilities. Pa rubbed his face ruefully and sipped the coffee.

“Hm. That’s good coffee. Your mother must have been awake this morning when she brewed it.”

Clark smirked, leaking a small laugh. Martha’s intermittent coffee making skills were a long established family joke.

“Ma says breakfast will be ready soon. Better hurry or I won’t leave any for you.”

“Yeah, right. Then you can walk to school this morning.”

“I’d rather fly!”

“Yeah, that’ll be the day. You keep dreaming, Clark.”

Clark floated down the steps just because he could. Today was a good day. Someday he knew that his powers would be used for more than just playing or showing off. When one could do what Clark could do, it wouldn’t stay hidden for long. And once the world found out about it all, it all would change. When that day would come, or what it would hold, Clark didn’t know. All he could do was patiently wait, and remember what his father told him that morning, in the dim light under the barn:

“You will change the earth, Kal-El. You will be an impossible standard for humanity. They will strive to master you, but will be unable to match even your shadow. Be better than we were. In our arrogance we invited our own end. Use your power only for good, reach down from the heights, and build humanity up. They are young and violent and proud. You will fly in the sun and they will run to catch up. You are an example of the best they can strive towards. They are mere men. You are the super man.”