The Legend of Superman

Disclaimer- Characters within this work are not of my creation, and are property of DC Comics.

Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster

Issue 05- Smallville, Part 1 (of 3)

Smallville, Kansas. One Year Later.

"I don't think this is working, Brainiac."

"PLEASE, KAL-EL. JUST A FEW MOMENTS LONGER."

"I'm telling you, I've been staring at this tractor for three hours. I think its safe to say that I don't possess telepathic powers."

"PERHAPS YOU ARE RIGHT. BUT I WON'T FEEL COMFORTABLE UNTIL I KNOW THE FULL EXTENT OF YOUR POWERS. THIS YELLOW SUN IS AN INTERESTING NEW FACTOR. I BELIEVE THAT THE LONGER YOU LIVE UNDER IT, YOU WILL DISCOVER NEW ABILITIES."

"We've been through this already. It's been a year, and so far, the only powers that I have are invulnerability, limitless strength, and the ability to jump really far. That's it. You've constantly said that I am going to be getting incredible new powers, but I don't feel any different from last year. I know I'm ready to help people, even if you and Dad won't accept it."

"KAL-EL, I SEE YOUR DESIRE TO UTILIZE YOUR GIFTS IMMEDIATELY, BUT I BELIEVE WE MUST EXERCISE CAUTION. JUST BECAUSE YOU DON'T SEEM TO HAVE ANY WEAKNESSES DOESN'T MEAN THAT YOU DON'T HAVE ANY."

"I know how you feel, but all these tests seem pointless. I know what I'm capable of, and I think it's time that Smallville knows it too. Listen, before you even say anything else, I'm done. I'm tired of staring at a tractor for hours on end hoping that I'll be able to move it with my mind, or blow it up just by thinking about it. I'm sorry, but I'm done."

Clark pulled off the small communicating device from his ear, and dropped it into the dirt, then turned and walked toward the house.

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"God, this is incredibly boring," moaned Chris Drew, one of Clark's best friends. "I mean, really. I'm about two minutes away from jumping out the window."

Clark smiled. Chris wasn't, to put it mildly, a fan of the Smallville school system. Or any school system, for that matter. As far as Clark knew, Chris only came to school to look at the other girls. "Well, maybe if you didn't stare at Jessica Harper the whole class, you might actually find some of this stuff interesting."

"Are you kidding me, Clark? Jessica Harper's ample figure is the only thing keeping me alive today. And I wouldn't talk about staring, buddy. I seem to remember seeing you, not too long ago, in the midst of your marathon staring contests involving one Miss Lana Lang."

Clark blushed a little, and tried to act like he was reading something important on the board. "Really, dude, I think you should ask her out. Ever since she broke up with Kyle Luthor, that little filly has been looking fine..."

"Could you not, Chris?"

"I'm just saying that you should ask her out. She obviously likes you. And you, well, you go into heat every time she walks by your desk."

"I'll think about it."

"Alright, ladies and gentleman, class dismissed. And remember, I want that paper on the French Revolution by Thursday. Not Friday, not next week. Thursday. No exceptions." Mr. Albright, the global history teacher, was a tall, lanky man, with thick glasses and a look like he was not a man to cross. Which was definitely true; Mr. Albright had a reputation for being a very tough teacher. Clark thought that was true, but he still enjoyed his classes. Chris, on the other hand...

"Thank God thats over," Chris muttered, a little too loudly, which prompted Mr. Albright to shoot him a very dirty look. Chris didn't notice this, as he was too busy staring at Jessica Harper as she made her way out the door.

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"So, pizza today?" Chris asked, as they walked to their lockers after school.

"Sure, that sounds good." Not that there was much of a selection in a small town like Smallville. Which meant that after school, Ross' Pizza was packed with hungry high-schoolers. Clark and Chris made their way down the brightly polished hallway before stopping in front of a tall, thin boy.

"Hiya Petey Pooh," called Chris playfully. "How's it going?"

"Please don't call me that." Pete Ross, the other of Clark's best friends, was a shy, blond boy that had regretted ever inviting Chris to dinner at his house. It was there that Chris overheard Pete's mother calling him Petey Pooh, a pet name. Chris hadn't let it go.

"Ok, fine. You up for pizza?"

"I'm beginning to think that the only reason you are friends with me is so that you can get free pizza from my dad's parlor."

"That is sooo untrue," said Chris, with a look of fake shock on his face, "Ok. Maybe it's a little true. But now I really like you, little buddy." Ironically, Chris was about 6 inches shorter than Pete.

"Well now I can die in peace, knowing that you like me. My life is complete." He put his hand to his forehead, swaying back and forth, as if he were about to faint. Clark laughed, and opened his locker, placing the books he didn't need into it.

The three boys walked away from the lockers and made their way through the new hallways of Smallville High. The building had only been completed a year ago, and although it was beautiful, it was massive. Students often got lost, and one wrong turn could mean five or ten minutes of struggling to figure out where you were. It was because of this fact that the friends made their way down the main hallway and straight out the front door, instead of going through the myriad of hallways to the back entrance, which was closer to the pizza place. Had they known what would be waiting for them at the front entrance, they might have risked getting a bit lost. Standing on the brick pathway leading out from the main entrance, stood a hulking thing of a boy.

"Oh, crap," muttered Chris, and he immediately searched for an exit. Clark merely frowned. He had never been afraid of Kyle Luthor, but he disliked him greatly for a few years. The two hadn't exactly been friends when they were younger, but they had at least been cordial. Kyle Luthor stood just over six feet, three inches, and weighed about 250 pounds. His fire-red hair was cut short, which made his head look massive, at least in comparison to the other boys. Luthor was the star of the football team, a defensive back who led the league in sacks both of his two seasons. Luthor also led the league in general meanness.

Kyle was a part of the Luthor legacy; the Luthor family had been a mainstay in Kansas for a while, as well as Metropolis, a major city located in New York State. The Luthors were involved in just about everything, from retail chains to weapons development. Kyle was the second of two sons born from Lionel Luthor, the other being Alexander, who is 6 years older than his younger brother. Clark had never met Alexander, but he was supposedly a genius, graduating from Met U with a 4.0 GPA. Kyle, on the other hand, wasn't so intelligent, at least not in matters dealing with school work. As far as Clark knew, Kyle's GPA had never encroached past a 2.0 at anytime. Not that Kyle needed to be smart, with the career track he was on; early projections called him a top 5 player nationwide, and he had his pick of colleges, all with full scholarship rides.

Kyle smiled, and closed in on the three friends. "Why, if it isn't the loser trio." he remarked, subtly flexing his muscles in an attempt to appear more menacing. It was working. Pete slunk back a little, shifting his book bag, and Chris looked like he had eaten a bad piece of food. Clark stood his ground. After all, it was pretty difficult to be menaced when you can fall off a building and walk away without a scratch (something that Brainiac had actually had Clark do; twice, in fact).

"Wow," Clark scoffed.

"What was that, Kent?"

"Oh, nothing. I just wasn't aware that you knew the word trio. It's very impressive. Progressed to the third grade reading level, have we?" That remark elicited a low groan from Chris.

"Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that?" Kyle stepped forward, and shoved Clark backwards. At least, that was what he planned on doing. Unlike the many quarterbacks that had crumpled under his strength, Clark stood firmly planted to the ground, unwavering. A look of confusion washed over Kyle's face, and he turned, as if to go, before whipping around and throwing a punch at Clark. For the three boys around Clark, the punch was instantaneous. For Clark, time seem to stop.

What should have been Kyle's fist hurtling towards a collision with his face turned into what seemed like slow motion. As the fist edged closer in space, blurry ripples seemed to emanate from it. Clark thought quickly that he didn't want to get punched, even if it wouldn't hurt him in the slightest. However, people like Kyle never seemed to quit- unless they got what they wanted. Clark closed his eyes, and the punch finally connected with his face. Instead of standing still, Clark allowed himself to fall to the ground.

Kyle Luthor stood over him, and laughed, before turning and walking away towards the student parking lot. Chris and Pete rushed to Clark's side (although not until Kyle was far enough away), and picked him off the ground.

"Thanks," Clark said, feigning injury.

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"I still can't believe you stood up to him like that. I mean, sure, you got your ass kicked, but still... way to go," Chris was saying a few minutes later, as the three made their way home (completely forgetting about the hot slices of pizza awaiting them in the other direction).

"Listen, guys," Clark began nervously. "I have something to tell you both."

"If it's that you're gay, we are totally cool with it." Chris replied.

"Huh? What? No, I'm not gay. It's something else. Something big."

"You aren't dying, are you?" said Pete, "Because that would really suck."

"No, I'm not dying! And would you both stop guessing!!" Clark stopped along the dirt road they had been walking, and knelt down. He grabbed a handful of dirt and kneaded it through his fingers. "What I'm about to tell you can't get out to anyone. Anyone. Not your parents, not your brothers and sisters. No one can know."

"Ok," both Chris and Pete replied, rather nervously.

Clark hesitated, thinking over his next words very carefully. "I'm different."

"Different?" Pete and Chris muttered, practically at the same time.

"Yes. I... I'm an alien."

"Hahahaha," both boys burst out laughing. "You really had us going there, Clark. Good one." Pete smiled, then started to walk again.

"I'm serious." Clark stood, and stared both squarely in the eye. "I'm an alien. My ship crash landed about 15 years ago in Smallville. The same time as those meteor showers. Those meteors were fragments of my planet. Krypton."

Pete and Chris looked at each other. "Holy crap," said Chris, looking into Clark's eyes. "You are serious."

"Yes. And I have powers."

"Powers?" offered Pete. "What kind of powers?"

"Well, for one, I'm invulnerable. And... and I have incredible strength." Clark's confidence began to grow as he told them more."

"Incredible strength? Like what... you can lift 200 pounds?" Chris asked, trying to wrap his head around what Clark was telling them both.

"Actually," Clark smiled, and walked over to them. He grabbed onto each of their shirts with a hand, and lifted them both clear above his head.

"Holy crap," Pete said, from three feet off the ground.

"Ditto," offered Chris.

"Oh. And I can leap really far."

"Like what? Like 100 feet?" Chris said as Clark put them both back on the ground.

"More like a mile. Or two."

"Holy..." Pete began.

"I know," Clark interrupted. "I wanted to tell you this because I needed your help."

"What kind of help?" they both muttered.

"I need your powers," Clark replied.

"Our powers?" they replied in tandem.

"I need your powers of design..." he said, with a sly smile.

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"Ok," said Chris, as the three sat in front of his computer. "This game is a superhero game, and it allows you to basically create any costume you want. Now, a lot of these things are going to be out of the question, because, lets face it, you can't go running around without a shirt on. And you need pants. And under no circumstances, no prosthetic nipples on your chest piece."

"Chest piece? I was just kind of hoping for normal clothes that make me look... mysterious."

"Ah, ok. I think I know what you want." Chris fiddled with some of the sliders on the game, and he came up with a figure dressed all in black. "The ninja look. Classic. Ninjas are cool." Clark looked over the screen.

"I guess I can do that. But I have to wear a mask. Clark can't go running around fighting crime."

"Third-person references. I like it. Very superhero of you. Ok. Masks are easy enough. How about a ski mask?" Chris closed the game and opened up a costume web site. "Or how 'bout this." Chris clicked a few more links, and a old hockey mask popped up. "Now tell me that's not cool."

"No, thats cool..." Clark began, "if I want people that I'm saving to think that I'm going to kill them!"

"Right. No hockey mask. How about this one." Chris brought up a black mask that didn't immediately shout out serial killer.

"Perfect." Pete said, smiling at Clark.

Five days later, Clark was trying on his "costume". It was a snug fitting, simple, black ensemble. He tried on the mask, and took a quick look in the mirror. "I think I'm ready, gentlemen."

Next issue- Smallville, Part 2 (of 3). Clark ventures out into the crime capital of Kansas (ok, so I made that up) to fight crime. But what happens when the Smallville police don't want his help? And, a shocking murder rocks the town, throwing everything into turmoil. Stay tuned for the next issue, coming soon!!!