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Have You Come To Meet Your Match (Chapter 13)
🕑 Added 2024-11-02 00:55:44 +0000 UTC"I didn't bring you here to fight.”
There was an exhaustion to his words, like each syllable had been dredged up from somewhere deep, dragged out against his will. He sounded almost… resigned.
"Then why are we here?" My words came out sharper than intended, serrated with something like anger—or maybe defiance. I couldn’t tell anymore.
Clark exhaled through his nose, a short breath that fogged the cold air between us. He didn’t answer right away, just floated a little closer, cape shifting in the chill like a crimson flag at half-mast.
“Even now you feel it, don’t you? he murmured, his voice nearly swallowed by the howl of the wind. “The power humming beneath your skin, your cells, aflame with so much power that it feels…
My lips parted, and the word escaped before I could pull it back. “Unstoppable.”
“Yes.” he said, a strange note in his voice, like I’d proven something he hadn’t wanted me to understand. “We just tore through a glacier as large as an Island. An action that would normally unleash chaos on ecosystems halfway across the planet. Floods, species displacement Floods, ecological shifts.
He let the silence weigh between us, heavy and pressing, before he continued, “But I am here. I make sure those consequences never happen. Because I can.”
Clark’s gaze drifted, as if he were seeing beyond the ice, the sky—beyond even me. When he spoke, his voice carried that same weight of experience, a burden I hadn’t been forced to carry. Not yet, anyway.
“You’re a full clone of me,” he continued, the words careful, as if handling something fragile. "Genetically, biologically, right down to the molecular level. It’s as though you were created to be me without all… without the choices that make me who I am.
“But your escape? It wasn’t exactly… subtle. People have noticed. Taken notice of the fact that there is another Kryptonian on this planet. They’re... worried."
“They?” I asked, folding my arms to match his, feeling the challenge in the words even as they left my mouth.
“Governments, agencies—some we know, some that stay hidden until it suits them. People with resources, people with power. With eyes everywhere." His voice lowered slightly, tone hardening. "We are talking about China. Russia. Countries that have seen what Kryptonian strength can do when it’s... uncontrolled." He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "There’s been pressure, even some from the UN."
The list kept growing, each name piling up like stones building a wall between us. But Clark wasn’t finished. He shifted slightly, the final name coming out colder, harder. "And of course, the United States government. They all fear what your existence means. They’re wary, watching. Waiting to see if you ever become a…”
“A threat” I completed.
“Yes”
“You want me to sign the Accords."
I let the words hang, feeling the weight they carried, heavier than the air we stood in, impossible to ignore.
Clark nodded, watching me carefully. “You’ve read it.”
“I have.”
Something flickered across his face, too fast to catch—a moment’s regret, maybe. But he kept his eyes on mine, his voice now soft.
“Then you understand.” His voice was softer now, but no less firm. “You know why you must sign it.”
I felt the resentment simmer, dark and bitter, and I couldn’t keep it from creeping into my voice. “They’re afraid of us. Of our power.”
“They are.” His answer was simple, unadorned. He didn’t argue.
"And you’re scared of what they’ll do if they decide we’re a threat, aren’t you?” I pressed, feeling the words hit their mark. “What they might do to your carefully built facade. To your life outside this. To Clark."
His jaw tightened, and for a second, the mask slipped—barely, but it was there, something hard and unyielding beneath the surface.
"Clark is who I am.," he said, each word deliberate, calm, but with an edge, like he was anchoring himself to them.
“Kelex doesn’t seem to think so,” I said, barely a breath. "The machine called you Kal-El. Maybe you have forgotten that.”
Clark’s gaze hardened. “I am both,” he said, a low conviction running through his voice, his own words feeling like an unbreakable oath.
“Funny," I muttered, "For a person with the kind of power you have, you are... shackled. Weighed down by the responsibility of who you are supposed to be.”
“Perhaps.” He turned slightly, looking past me into the endless horizon of ice and sky, his voice softening, almost wistful. “Perhaps that is the price to pay for possessing this kind of power. I have seen things…things that made me realize that this isn’t so bad. That accountability isn’t so bad.”
His words spoke of experience, a reminder of what he had seen, what he’d sacrificed perhaps. But I wasn’t ready to buy into that saintly bullshit. “And so you would trust the US government to keep you accountable?
“Someone has to.”
My lip twisted with disgust, and I felt the words scrape up like gravel. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but it doesn’t change what’s plain to see. I know why you hold back. You’ve settled into this world, into its comforts, all this... life of cardboard you’ve set up around yourself. You’re shackled by it, bound to people lesser than you.”
He took that in without a word, but his silence only pushed me further.
“You’re easily stronger than anyone on this planet. Easily stronger than anything they could throw at you. Hell you could be ruling them right now. Having them bowing at your feet. Answering to you.”
He took a steady breath before answering with a calmness there that grated at my annoyance even more. “I suppose I have my parents to thank for that. They taught me that strength doesn’t mean forcing anyone to their knees. It’s about standing by people, not over them.”
He paused, his voice gentler, as if softer would be better heard. “I only hope I can pass that on to you someday. You’re still growing. You’ve barely scratched the surface of what this world really is. And one day, you’ll understand that holding back isn’t weakness. It’s how you find your place here.”
I felt the words harden in my throat, sharp with rejection. “I hope I never do.”
Silence fell between us, tense and unyielding, neither of us moving as the wind howled in the space that separated us, carrying with it a frigid reminder of where we stood.
“Superboy,” I said, breaking the quiet. The name hung in the air, sharp and unanticipated. “He’s my blood.”
Clark’s head tilted, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, though he said nothing.
“He might be part Luthor,” I continued, the words tasting strange, raw, as though I were admitting something even I hadn’t fully faced. “But he’s still of the House of El. Just like me. Just like you. That makes him better than most of the people on this planet already.”
“I want you to understand that from this moment forward, he is my responsibility. Not yours. Not Batman’s. Mine. And I want your word that it will stay that way.”
The weight of my words hung between us, and I met his gaze, daring him to disagree “Are you sure?” he asked, a slight hesitation in his tone.
I didn’t let him finish. “That is my condition if you want me to sign these Accords.”
The silence grew heavy, filled with only the cold wind that howled around us, biting and relentless as it swept past. We hovered there, suspended in the open air, as if time itself were holding its breath, waiting.
Finally, he spoke. “Very well. You have my word.” He paused, his voice softer, though the edge of regret was unmistakable. “You’ll have access to the Fortress. I’ll key you in. Kelex is here if you need anything.”
He looked at me, the edge of regret, of shame in him, unmistakable. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I wish I could be what you want me to be for him. But I can’t take that chance. I have too much to lose.”
There it was, laid bare—the life he’d built, the people, the values, the stability he clung to with all his strength. But to me, it felt like a cage, one he’d willingly locked himself inside, a world he’d bound himself to out of fear for what might happen if he stepped beyond its walls.
“Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes.”
I drew a slow, steadying breath, feeling the anger and frustration that had simmered between us shift, settling into something sharper, something colder.
“Very well.” My words were as icy as I felt. “I’ll sign your damn Accords.”
He didn’t look triumphant or relieved, just resolved, as if he’d already moved beyond the words we’d spoken. This was a transaction to him—a necessary exchange. And now, with the terms settled, he was ready to move forward.
“Let’s get you ready, then.”
____________________________________
“I tried to keep the design as close to the solar suit you had on when you were brought in. It didn’t help the media had already gotten footage of you.” Clark-no- Superman said as I stepped into the room, white cape swishing softly behind me.
The suit was a masterpiece. Its pristine white and black color scheme gave it a striking, almost regal look. The white material was smooth and flawless, radiating a quiet strength, while the black details added a touch of gravity, grounding the otherwise brilliant design. Centered on my chest was the unmistakable "S" emblem, bold in red with a metallic silver outline—a symbol of hope and resilience. The emblem seemed larger than life, standing out like a beacon for all to see, as if announcing to the world that I was here.
The high-collared cape, pure and undisturbed, flowed from my shoulders like a banner of authority, moving with a gentle yet purposeful sway. The black lines along the sides of my torso emphasized every contour of my build, hinting at power beneath the sleek exterior. They led down to the black belt around my waist, adorned with a golden buckle that added a subtle touch of elegance to the overall design.
My sleeves were as white as the rest of the suit, leading down to the snug gloves around my forearms, completing the streamlined, aerodynamic look.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s... alright.” My voice came out softer than I intended, almost reverent. I reached out, fingers brushing the material. Despite its pristine look, the fabric had a surprising strength, as if woven with an unyielding resilience.
“Kelex does amazing work, as always. Thank you, Kelex,” Superman called out, his voice carrying a warmth that felt at odds with the chill that hung in the air.
“You’re welcome, sir,” came the reply, crisp and mechanical, infused with no hint of pride at the compliment. The reply resonated in the chamber, each word echoing through the stark silence of the Fortress like a respectful bow.
Then, Superman turned, gesturing for me to follow. “Come,” he said, his gaze shifting forward, a hint of anticipation in his eyes. “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“She?” I echoed, falling in step beside him as the doors to the fortress opened and we stepped out.
The chill of the outside air swept over us as we stepped from the crystalline stillness of the Fortress into the biting wind. Snow crunched underfoot, the expanse of white stretching endlessly around us, interrupted only by jagged mountains jutting against the horizon. Superman’s gaze remained fixed upward, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if seeing through layers I couldn’t penetrate.
“Yes,” he murmured, almost to himself, his words slipping free in a voice low and assured. “Her.”
I followed his line of sight, squinting against the brightness, the vast dome of sky stretching clear and cold above. But there was nothing—only pale blue and the faint, crystalline shimmer of snowflakes drifting down. I focused, sharpening my senses, straining to hear even a whisper of movement, the beat of wings or whatever that would explain why he was just looking up at the sky. But all I found was silence, still and complete, unbroken by any sound beyond the wind’s low moan.
My eyes narrowed, frustration building as I scanned the sky. Yet Superman’s focus was unwavering, his expression calm as if
he was certain of what was there.
Then, like a mirage coming into view, the air above us wavered—a slight distortion, a glimmer that was almost unnoticeable. The edges of something vast and big took form, a shape resolving itself in the space above us. Then came the sound of an engine, audible to my ears when it hadn’t been earlier.
Slowly, piece by piece, it revealed itself, the lines of its invisible surface catching the light like a half-glimpsed memory, until it appeared fully.
Sleek panels folded seamlessly, the faint hum of advanced propulsion reverberating through the chilled air. Hovering in the air and kicking up a storm of dusty snow around was a jet.
Wonderwoman’s jet.
Comments
Blue Jay
I think a perspective needs to be added here. Most emotionally healthy people like being around people with whom they can connect and have fulfilling relationships with. In this sense, Clark's choice makes sense. He is the lone survivor of Krypton. He doesn't have another planet to go to. If he does try to control this planet, one only needs to refer to the Injustice League saga.
Jaymoneyman
I’m glad he doesn’t want to be like Clark
