[Chapter 10: Mxyz]Seated on the couch, David Glasgow Farragut looked up at General Burton Newcomb as he handed him a short glass of bourbon.
"I haven't been told much about my next assignment yet, oddly enough," David admitted. "I get the feeling it hasn't been set in stone yet?"
He knew Burton hadn't asked him to visit to just talk about how he was doing or chat about old times, though he had done that a few times in the past.
No, this was more . . . formal. And yet more personal.
"No. It's not set in stone yet, but it might be soon," Burton said, sitting down in the recliner.
David's eyebrows rose curiously.
"It would be a long term assignment. Very likely the last of your career," Burton stated. "It involves what I've officially been doing for the last three years."
David stilled. "You've been serving as the military's point of contact with the Foundation, with Superman."
He wasn't an obsessed fan of Superman, but he certainly followed events and approved of what Superman had accomplished so far and liked the way he at least appeared to do things. The thought of actually working with him at any level made him feel excited.
"I need a successor. Not just anyone can do this job. It requires supreme secrecy and a unique form of loyalty. I believe you're the person for the job, but you must want the job. And there's something else."
"Something else?" David questioned.
"I need you to promise never to share this remaining portion with anyone outside this room, especially the last requirement. Whether you take the job after hearing it is still up to you, though," Burton said.
"Alright. I promise I will take it to my grave," David said.
He knew plenty of secrets he had never told anyone, what was one more? He had worked with Burton when he had been Head of Bureau 39. His bone marrow might as well be made of secrets instead of tissue.
"The core of this job is not what's on the books, nor is it known to anyone in command, save for myself. I serve as Kal-El’s benefactor, not merely as his liaison to the US Military.”
“Is that the last requirement then? To help him in secret?” David asked, not quite sure if he should be surprised or not. He had known Burton’s position was more involved than what it appeared. He would have been surprised if it had been straightforward. But from what Burton was saying . . . .
“In part. The last requirement is to keep his secrets, even from your superiors. Fewer than ten people on Earth know what I know. And fewer than that know that I know. I knew him before the world did.”
“You know his identity,” David stated, now fully understanding the need for so much caution and secrecy.
So this is what Burton had meant by 'unique form of loyalty'. He would need to balance Superman’s secrets with national security needs. Granted, with what he currently knew, it was obvious why keeping Superman’s identity outside of even the peripheral knowledge of command made a huge amount of sense. If the nations of the world even got a hint that the US government, at any level, knew Superman’s identity, international relations would fall into chaos. The reason why things worked smoothly in the current political climate was because the UN believed everyone was on equal footing in regard to Superman. And sure, the Foundation was based in the States, but Superman did a fair job of giving his attention equally throughout the world so it didn't cause a problem.
“Yes, I know who he is. So, do you want the job?” Burton asked frankly.
David didn’t need to think long, and part of him had already made the decision the moment he learned Burton wanted him to step into his role and work with Superman. What better thing could he do than help Superman protect the world?
“Yes. Yes, I want the job,” he said confidently.
Burton smiled, and David knew Burton had already known how he would answer.
"Kal!" Burton called.
David couldn't help but jump at the sudden shout and the whoosh that immediately followed.
And there he was.
Or . . . well, David assumed he was. . . ?
The man who had appeared wasn't in the famous red and blue suit, nor was he in jeans and a blue t-shirt with the famous emblem. He was in khaki pants, a simple, blue vest with a gray lapel over a black shirt. And he was wearing glasses.
David quickly got to his feet.
"Pleasure to meet you, Colonel, though it'll soon be General, correct?" the man, who had to be Superman, asked, holding out his hand.
"Yes,” David answered, though he barely kept his voice level enough to prevent it from becoming a question as he shook the offered hand.
If he didn't know better, he'd think Burton was playing a practical joke on him. But he knew he wasn’t.
The man was of similar height to the Man of Steel, had the same hair color (though in a different style), same eyes, and same face – though perfectly obscured by framed glasses.
“I understand you’ve agreed to take over for Burton?” Superman asked, grinning.
David nodded.
"Great. Well, to clear things up, along with the other names you know me by, I’m Clark Kent."
David blinked, half of his brain in shock while the other half was scrambling upon hearing the name Clark Kent since it sparked a memory.
“You spearheaded the Special Field Support Division?!” he asked.
Burton laughed, slapping David on the back, pleased he knew that. "He did! Lieutenant Kent, the polyglot. Officially fluent in eight languages, though unofficially, it's likely all of them, right?"
"Well, I can get by in all of them pretty much. Fluently, I'd say almost three hundred now," Clark said with a shrug before looking at David in slight concern. "Do you need to sit down?"
"Sorry for overwhelming you, David," Burton said, returning to his chair and motioning them all to sit. "But I figured we'd be better off just laying out everything once you agreed. I think it goes without saying why I've gone about things the way I have."
David sat back down on the couch as Su-Ka-Clark took the opposite end.
"Yes, it makes a lot of sense," David agreed as he stared at Clark. "Your disguise is impressive."
"Thanks," Clark said. "So, I imagine you have questions?"
David laughed. "Yes, about a million."
"Well, I should be able to answer about a hundred of those today," Clark said, taking a seat.
They spoke well into the night.
O o O o O
Clark placed his hand on the small of Lois' back as he followed her to the table in the back of the restaurant.
Bill and his wife, Donna, were already there.
"Sorry we're late," Clark said as they sat down and accepted their menus from the waiter.
"It's fine. We had suspected a slight delay due to hearing the news," Bill said, referring to the severe pile up on the highway Superman had been helping to clear for the past hour.
"So it was the semi's tires blowing that caused it?" Bill asked.
"Yeah. The semi's front tires blew from debris on the highway. Driver lost control and it jackknifed," Clark said.
"Man," Bill said, shaking his head, knowing better than to ask if anyone was hurt.
Of course there had been injuries.
"Everyone hurt made it to the hospital, with Superman healing the most severe injuries,” Clark continued.
"That's a relief. And . . . Superman didn't overdo it?" Donna questioned, looking at him closely.
"No, he's fine. Fully healing everyone would have been risky, but he just focused on the worst of it," Clark assured.
Donna and Bill nodded approvingly as the waiter arrived and accepted their drink and appetizer orders.
"So anything new?" Lois asked as she opened her menu.
"Well, Paul is making progress in ABA therapy. It took a bit to find a good team, but I think we've finally found who Paul needs. They're
way better than the last group of therapists," Bill said.
"Oh, what happened with the last group?" Clark asked.
"I fired them. I'm honestly still angry about it," Donna said. "The unprofessionalism and obvious lack of training. It was bad."
Clark hummed apologetically. He knew Paul's challenges required unique specialists to properly address and hopefully rectify in time. After all the juggling with insurance and finding a team to work with him, only for said team to be less than adequate. . . . He could only imagine their frustration.
"Well, I'm glad you found good people," Lois said. "So how is Melissa?"
"Really good. She started her first job through a program at the high school. It's part time and is giving her some good experience. She's hoping it'll morph into something substantial once she graduates from high school and gets certified. She works at the machine shop at Moe's Renovations, you see," Bill explained.
"Oh wow. So, as an entry level machinist?" Lois asked, curious.
"Yeah. She was just introduced to the lathe, so just simple parts at the moment, but she's excited," Bill bragged.
"It's great that her school has partnered with local businesses to promote the trades. Oftentimes, that sort of thing is left untapped and so much potential is wasted," Clark said. "College can be valuable, but it's not the only path to stability and wealth."
Lois nodded in agreement. "Well, with college now, you have to be especially careful with the excessive loans. It's a very slippery slope. Honestly, I'm concerned it could get really corrupt, and, to be honest, it's already pretty bad."
Donna's eyes widened. "What? Really?"
"Yes," Lois said gravely. "My sister finally finished paying off her student loans, and they weren't even all that extensive like they more often are now. The current general belief that one has to go to college, coupled with the government backed loans. . . . It's gotten a lot more expensive. And it's no wonder. Colleges are pretty much being given blank checks because they're getting paid whether or not the student ever actually pays off the loans. And the other issue is, more often than not, these students are signing on the dotted line while not fully comprehending what they're signing and what it will mean for their future – especially if they're choosing a degree that won't reasonably enable them to earn the income needed to actually be able to pay off that loan in a reasonable amount of time. I just. . . . Sorry. I looked into it all after my sister frankly fell victim to it. Knowing that the situation is even worse now and likely will only get worse until things change. . . . I'm afraid there are going to be a lot of struggling adults in the future because of this," Lois said, resigned.
Bill looked at Donna, and Clark got the feeling college might somehow be a point of contention between them.
"I'll admit, the idea of a teenager, even if they're legally an adult, easily taking out loans that can quickly grow into the same amount as half a house, if not more. . . .” Bill straightened. “It doesn't make much sense to me, especially if their degree isn't in something that would enable them to pay back the loans – assuming they even graduate. Now, I get wanting to encourage education and to enable people to go into fields they might not have had the opportunity to normally get into due to their situation, but it seems counterproductive to provide them this 'opportunity' without any oversight or real guidance. That's just asking for predatory lending and the like, and it sounds like that is exactly what's happening," Bill said.
Donna frowned. "That may be. It's just . . . I grew up poor. The idea of going to college was a dream we didn't dare imagine possible. The thought of being able to go to college and then choosing not to . . . it feels like missing a huge opportunity, even if it means owing some money."
"I understand that," Clark agreed. "My parents are farmers and no Kents before me ever got a degree. Heck, getting a high school diploma was an accomplishment. So I don't think anyone here is saying getting a degree is bad. Lois has a major in Journalism, after all. There's just a lot of traps people have to watch out for that weren't really there before and things to consider. We need doctors, engineers, teachers, and the like. College is vital for those fields, obviously, but let's be honest. College isn't for everyone, and trying to make it seem like it
is is unwise, to put it simply, especially when other options are being ignored or even outright criticized. We need plumbers, welders and others too, and that sort of work can be highly rewarding and lucrative. I just think kids should know and understand all options. After all, why go into debt earning a degree that might not allow you to get out of that hole when you could get an internship or apprenticeship and begin making good money long before you would have been able to going the college route?"
Donna nodded in understanding. "Okay, that makes a bit more sense. And I suppose the idea of, 'oh, I'll just get a loan for that' could become pretty normal, and that's not good, especially if you're swept up by actually going to college and aren't thinking ahead."
"Exactly. Anyway, sorry for getting sidetracked. Back to Melissa. So she'll be able to become a certified machinist if she wants?" Lois asked.
"Yeah. The high school is also partnered with the community college, so she'll be able to choose classes there for her electives," Donna said.
"Free of charge?" Lois asked, surprised.
"Free to us. I think it's covered through a state program, so technically we're paying for some of it through taxes," Bill said.
"That's great," Clark said. "I hope other states copy that program."
"Me too," Bill agreed before the waiter returned with their drinks and artichoke appetizer. He then took their orders.
"Any progress on what you've been working on, Clark?" Bill asked, dipping his chip.
"Yes, a lot actually. Unfortunately, now I have to wait, but what I've given to the FBI should bear fruit soon. I provided them with what I've pieced together from dozens of cases and some things I recently gathered from other–" he fiddled with his glasses meaningfully, "–sources, so I believe there should be an update within the next few weeks or so."
"That's really good news. I know you've been getting contacted by a lot of families from several reservations these past few weeks," Bill said.
Clark nodded. "The Foundation has also reached out to them earlier this week. Mav will make a statement in the coming days. I'm hoping we can increase awareness and find those missing faster."
"Wow. I imagine that will help a great deal," Donna said, amazed.
At that, their food arrived and their conversation shifted to repairs the Hendersons were hoping to do in the coming year on their home.
O o O o O
It had been a busy day, and, if Kal were honest, strange. Off and on all day, he felt as if someone was following him. It was a peculiar feeling, especially when he couldn't see or sense anyone suspicious.
Granted, he hadn't been able to search hard whenever he felt it, since he hadn't wanted to alarm those around him, especially at the hospital, or tip off the person who was following him – assuming he wasn't imagining it all.
He shook his head as he left Mexico, finished with the most recent round of healing, and, before too long, he entered Metropolis air space.
"Hm, I wonder if Lois would like me to cook mozzarella chicken tonight," he wondered to himself, but before he could consider sending the question out to her via 'thought bubble', he heard the police channel blare a warning to officers about a high-speed chase cutting through Metropolis.
'Suspect is approaching intersection of King and Main,' Dispatch stated over the radio.
Superman heard the crash as he zipped across the city, and a second later he saw the truck in the process of flipping through the air after having lost control in the attempt of making the tight turn.
He intercepted it a blink later, catching it and preventing it from crash landing into a horrified crowd of pedestrians going about their day at the local shops.
The people cheered as he carefully set the truck down, the driver dazed but otherwise spared from grievous injury.
While the crowds gathered and continued to cheer, Kal once again felt the strange sensation of, not just being watched, but being stalked.
"Thank you, Superman," an officer said as others removed the man from the battered truck and arrested him. "That could have been much worse."
"No problem. Glad I was in the area," Superman said.
And then an intense feeling of foreboding rushed over him and he couldn't help but shiver at the sensation.
"Superman?" the officer, his nametag reading Mitchell, asked, concerned.
/Something’s wrong,/ Kal warned him, but before he could even attempt to properly process what he was feeling, the truck just behind him exploded.
Heat and shrapnel flew forth, but his aura snapped out even faster, coating everyone within the area with his protection, much like he had at the stadium in the parallel world and at the chemical plant in Poland.
The blast was over in seconds with shrapnel landing harmlessly on the ground, his aura deflecting all harm from those near. He then quickly blew out the flames engulfing the truck as he kept his aura extended, wary of anything else happening as he detected. . . .
Amid whirling emotions of fright, surprise, and awe, along with all the audible exclamations and natural background noise, Kal sensed something . . . of a different universe.
Just as he had explained to the alternate-Clark while he had been on the other Earth, there was something faint, a unique essence within every universe that could easily be missed if one didn't know to watch for it. But he did, because he knew the nuance that distinguished his universe from all others.
And this . . . something, was missing this nuance and, instead, hummed a foreign tone. It was concentrated near the middle of the street, across from the shops.
And then he became aware of something more. No. He became aware of some
one. However, visually, there didn't seem to be anyone there.
Kal flared his left eye, activating his special sight and startling a few people able to see his eye that now gleamed white and red.
Ignoring the hues of his aura that swirled visibly in the air and the colors around the people near, he immediately spotted a glowing, humanoid shape floating just above the pavement.
Kal blurred and came to a stop between the crowd and the unknown individual, keeping his aura extended through the area.
“Who are you? Did you blow up the truck?” Kal asked, keeping his gaze right on what he could only assume was a person.
"Aw! You peeked!" a voice exclaimed before a being coalesced out of thin air.
The being looked like a man, but his clothing appeared to be from the renaissance-era and he was hovering three feet above the ground.
“You’re not of this universe,” Kal stated bluntly.
“My-my, I must say, you do seem to be much more proactive than your counterparts, calling me out like that. Commendable, though very risky, especially considering what I am,” the otherworldly being said.
The crowd shuffled uneasily and the police slowly moved in case they would need to direct civilians to safety. Kal focused his eye a bit more on the floating man as he thickened his aura, wanting to learn all he could about this stranger.
He felt like lightning given form, so immensely powerful, and mingled within were jolts of what Kal could only define as ego and self-importance so rank that most any individual would appear completely selfless beside it.
“Hm, you have impressed me. Well, as you have so correctly pointed out, I’m from out of town. The 5th Dimension to be exact. Name’s Mxyzptlk. Mister Mxyzptlk. Spelled the usual way," he said, looking back at Kal with such an airy attitude he would have given the most prissy valley girl a run for her money.
“Okay, Mr. Mxyzptlk, why have you come here? Since you mentioned my counterparts, I gather you know me or at least a bit about me from my parallel selves," Superman said as people watched nervously from the shops and sidewalks.
The police remained ready, their hands on their sidearms though still holstered.
Mxyz smirked. “Yes, I know ALL about you, even about the secret identity thing. But don’t worry, it doesn’t matter to me. Anyway, since you spotted me, I suppose there’s no point in postposting my game.”
“Game?” Kal asked, not liking the sound of that at all.
“There’s no room for two full gods in this dimension. And I plan on being it, but I’ve learned a few things. No one’s going to make me leave this time," he said, his voice becoming louder and more adamant. Crazed. He pointed at Kal. "Not you! Not them!" He pointed to the people behind Kal before giving a broad arm movement. "Not anybody! And I won’t try to make you leave either. I will stay – and you will stay – just not as you are.”
Mxyzptlk then brought his hand up and triumphantly snapped his fingers. A wave of intense energy surged forth, all of it directed right at Kal.
Kal reacted instinctively, drawing his aura tight against himself in less than a blink and clenching it as hard as he could, like a wall of protection.
Mxyzptlk scrunched his face as he struggled against Superman’s defense.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Myxz cried, before slamming his hands together in a loud clap.
Kal gasped at the gush of power that tore through him. People screamed as the smell of ozone saturated the air and a crackle of static electricity made everyone's hair stand on end. The whole area flashed white.
And then, for Kal, it all turned black.
O o O o O
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