Chapter 3: Confrontations

Jon ignored the 'accidental' shoulder bump from Timmy Ryan as he went down the hall. Instead, he allowed his thoughts to focus on what he had just heard.

His dad had just saved over a hundred people in China who had been on a massive bridge that had given way.

He smiled to himself. His dad just saved a doomed bridge! Of course, he couldn't tell anyone that, but it certainly helped brighten his day and it helped bring things into perspective. There were bigger things in the world than petty macho contests. He was privy to knowledge very few knew in the world. He was part of the biggest secret on the planet.

He slowed down as that thought really settled.

Whoa.

Dang.

He swallowed.

"Hey, Jon, you okay?" Tag asked, coming up beside him.

He was one of the only good guys on the team, or at least one of the few brave enough to not go along with whatever the others directed.

"Uh, yeah. Just thinking," he said.

"Okay. Just remember, it's Friday. The weekend will be here soon enough," Tag encouraged. Tag looked around and then hurriedly handed him a stack of papers.

"What's this?" Jon asked.

"The critical plays. I copied them for you last night," Tag said. "You can look over them in free period, that way you'll be ready for practice."

Jon's eyes widened and quickly stashed them in his binder.

"Thanks, Tag," he said gratefully. "You're a lifesaver."

"No problem."

The rest of the day zipped by faster than Jon would have liked, simply because he wasn't looking forward to that afternoon, when he'd try to talk to Coach Gaines, one-on-one, before practice. He wasn't quite sure what his attempt would accomplish, he just knew he couldn't stand things to continue as they were. He had never really been bullied before, and while he had suffered some backlash whenever he came to the defense of his brother back in Metropolis, it was certainly different when you were being hassled for simply being and not for any actual tangible reason.

Jordan's apprehension of going to school in their earlier years made a lot more sense now, and he was glad Jordan seemed to be having a much better time here than in Metropolis, even though they had only been in school for less than a week. He just wished he could say the same for himself.

He made his way down to the locker room and took a deep breath, remembering what his mother had told him that morning, after dad had left for the DoD.

'You have two options. You can wait and see or you can be proactive. Both options have risks and both provide you with different kinds of control, though one is more reactionary than the other – which isn't necessarily a bad thing. So, what do you want to do?' she had asked.

Well, he didn't really want to do either, but he knew what he disliked more.

If being a member of the Smallville Crows wasn't going to work out, he'd rather know now than draw it out. Sure, he would hate not being on the high school football team, but he refused to put up with being everyone’s punching bag or the butt end of every joke any longer than he already had.

He was worth more than that.

He was a Kent. And he was an El.

He knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Gaines called.

He entered, and Gaines immediately did a double take.

“Coach, do you have a moment?” Jon asked.

Gaines glanced down at his desk, and Jon immediately spotted his playbook.

He ignored it.

Gaines looked back up, raising an intrigued, as well as daring, eyebrow. “Sure, Kent. What’s on your mind?”

Another comment from his mom spoken that morning instantly surfaced in his mind. ‘When you speak to him, don’t ask for permission or apologize for whatever you want to say. Just respectfully say what you want to say. Put the ball in his court and, whatever comes, we’ll be behind you.’

Jon straightened and spoke. “I don’t want or expect special treatment, positive or negative. I just want a fair chance to earn a place on the team. So I’ve come to tell you that if I can’t get that, I want to know that now so I can stop wasting time, my own and the team’s,” Jon glanced down at the playbook on the desk and looked back up. “So should I keep calling you ‘coach’ or should I begin calling you ‘Mr. Gaines’?” he asked, doing everything he could to keep a confident posture even though he was trembling inside.

Gaines reared back slightly, his eyebrows both up. “Damn, Kent. Never would have guessed you’d be made of such stern stuff.”

“I’m a Kent and my mom is Lois Lane, did you expect something different?” he asked before he could fully process what he was saying.

Gaines stifled a snort before retorting with an odd tone, "Well, you're a Lane at least.”

"What is that supposed to mean?" Jon asked, taken aback. This conversation was nothing he had expected it to be at all. He could practically feel the hostility in the air.

Gaines straightened in his chair, sizing him up with his eyes before he replied. "Your father is a Kent by name, not by blood. There's a difference.”

A sharp, jolting sensation stabbed in Jon's chest, but not in the physical sense.

So what if his dad was adopted?! Blood has nothing to do with character or one’s worth!

Or was Gaines saying that his dad didn't behave like a Kent? But what did it mean to be a Kent?

His thoughts went to his grandma, Martha Kent, and the man who he was named after. So kind and strong. So selfless, they raised a boy who had landed in their field. They took him into their home and instilled within him the values that enabled him to become Superman. He was Superman because he was a Kent.

And sure, he knew his dad was a bit of a dork at times, but as Clark Kent he kept up with Lois Lane and investigated and locked up monsters like Lex Luthor, making the world a better, safer place, just like his grandparents had.

But his dad wasn't a Kent?

Pfft.

He locked eyes with Coach Gaines, finding him looking smug.

Fury he didn’t fully understand licked throughout his insides and he had to use every shred of will not to lash out, especially with his tongue.

Instead, Jon lifted his chin. "Keep my playbook, Mr. Gaines. I won't be needing it. I’ll turn in my equipment Monday. My time is clearly better spent elsewhere."

He walked out, so enraged he almost missed Timmy Ryan, Sean Smith, and a few of his other no-longer-teammates gaping from the hall, not far from the door. They had no doubt heard at least the tailend of that.

He didn't slow as he passed them and he was grateful when no one stopped him. As soon as he was outside, he ran, wanting to find a place where he could be alone to collect himself before he called his mom to pick him up. He obviously would not be going to practice.

He took in several deep breaths, going over the conversation in his mind when he stopped just behind the field's bleachers and dropped his backpack, confident he was out of sight from anyone.

Had Gaines thrown that at Dad? Pointing out he was adopted so not really a Kent? He knew his dad, and though he hadn't ever spelt it out, Jon knew he wanted to belong. It's one reason why Dad loved Mom so much. She had embraced all of him. Jon saw that clearly when he looked back, reviewing old videos and articles about Superman with Jordan soon after they had learned the truth.

Learned they had a legacy unique to anyone else on Earth. A legacy he was barely beginning to really process.

He shook his head, still feeling the burn of threatening tears behind his eyes. No, he was not going to cry at school! He took another deep breath and held it, he then exhaled and repeated, doing a pseudo calming technique that worked for Jordan.

"Okay. Okay," he said, doing his best to convince himself not to cry as the burning continued to grow.

He pushed through another round of hold and release breathing and was relieved when he finally felt himself claw back control over his emotions. He wiped his irritated eyes and pulled out his phone, dialing his mom.

"Jon?" his mom answered.

"I quit the team," he stated flatly, and he was suddenly struck by the fact that he didn't care.

Perhaps he would care later, when all his anger on behalf of his dad had bled away, but in that moment he had no desire to train under a man like Gaines. It was a shame Tag had wasted time and effort on hand-copying those plays for him though.

"I'm on my way," she replied, not needing to say anything else.

O o O o O

The first week of school was over. Unfortunately, that didn't exactly mean rest for the Kent household.

Clark sat down at the table across from Jon and Jordan, everyone with plates full of spaghetti.

"I'm sorry things turned out the way they did, Jon," Lois said after he had told them what had happened.

Jon shrugged. "To be honest, it's sort of a relief. Gaines isn't a good coach, let alone a nice person, and forcing myself to learn under him. . . . Even if I hadn't quit today, it just wasn't sustainable. The things that Tag has been telling me. . . ."

"I'm glad you seem to have made a friend though," Clark said, looking at the bright side.

Jon smiled. "Yeah, Tag's a good guy. Hopefully he's okay with me quitting. I’m sure he learned tonight."

"I'm sure he will be. You should invite him over some time," Lois said before broadening the conversation to include Jordan. "So what about your classes? How are they so far?"

"My AP classes are interesting. Mr. Jones seems to know what he's talking about more than my old history teacher in Metropolis," Jordan said. "And while I still wish I had gotten into French, Spanish isn't bad. Mrs. Gomez said the goal is for us to be able to write a short story in Spanish by the end of the year."

"That's a great target," Lois said, impressed.

"If you really want to learn French, I can teach you if you want," Clark said.

"Teach–?" Jordan started before he remembered. "Oh, yeah, you speak multiple languages."

"Do you really know them all?" Jon asked.

"Pretty much. Some obscure idioms sometimes still get me and I need to catch up with slang at times, but other than that. . . ." Clark shrugged.

"That's crazy," Jordan said.

"It helps that I have a good memory and can listen to any language whenever I want," Clark said lightly.

"So you can hear every sound in the world at once?" Jon asked, baffled.

"It's more like I hear all the fluctuations taking place in the collective sonic frequency," Clark tried to explain.

"That makes zero sense to me," Jon stated.

"So how do you tell between, like, someone in trouble and someone shouting for a taxi?" Jordan asked, very interested.

"Well, it took years of training at the Fortress, but that's where I learned to hone in on certain sounds, like people in distress," Clark said.

"Wait, so can you, uh, hear us whenever you want then?" Jordan asked nervously.

Clark glanced at Lois uncertainly. "Well . . . yes."

Lois remained silent, letting Clark handle it.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Does that mean you listen in on us?!" Jon asked, not wanting to jump to conclusions but finding it hard not to.

"Just because I can, doesn't mean I do," Clark said.

"So do you?" Jordan pressed.

"Look, I already learned this lesson with your mom, so you don't need to worry. I don't abuse it. I don't spy on you guys," he said, sighing. "Now, full disclosure, when I'm scanning the collective sonic frequency, my hearing can sometimes pass over you, and normally I won't process anything and I'll continue on without pause, but if I hear bad stress in your voice or something, I'll automatically focus a bit more and determine if you actually need my help or not. Sorry in advance for that, but after several instances with your mom needing rescue–"

"What?!" she cried, though with no heat.

Clark raised his hands up in surrender but not quite apology. Jon and Jordan looked at each other, amused.

Lois sighed dramatically. "Okay, so I sort of trained your father's subconscious to keep an ear out, but you both can relax. I also gave him a good lesson in privacy before you two were even born."

"You did?!" Jon and Jordan both asked, curiosity peaked.

"Long story short, he ended up spending about two weeks of his salary at the time on flowers just to get me to talk to him again," Lois said, smiling at the memory.

Clark grimaced. It was unlikely he'd ever look back at that time without pain and some level of regret. He had almost lost everything. And, long story short, it was a complicated mess of miscommunications, churning emotions, and layered with the insane chaos of having to also juggle people wanting them both dead.

"Really?! Wow, Dad!" Jon exclaimed.

"Yeah, not my best moment," he said, deciding not to try to give his side of things. Mistakes had been made by them both back then, but now it simply didn’t matter.

"But, as you can see, it all worked out," Lois said, noticing Clark’s discomfort. She swiftly moved the conversation on. "Anyway, different topic. Clark, I scheduled the interview. Janet is ecstatic and the big wigs are pleased."

"That's good. So is it Monday?" Clark asked, quickly perking up.

"Yeah, in Metropolis at 6, which means, boys, you'll have to fend for yourselves that evening. You can order pizza," Lois said.

"Okay, sounds good," Jon said, unbothered.

"Yeah, no problem," Jordan agreed.

Clark tilted his head. "Your dad's driving up," he said suddenly.

"That man never rests, does he?" Lois commented before sighing and looking at the twins.

“Keep eating. I’ll talk to him outside,” Clark said, getting up and going to the porch.

O o O o O

Sam opened his laptop and showed Clark what he had out front.

“Sources tell us our armored friend here hit a black market weapon site last night in Moldova,” Sam said, pointing to a map.

“What’d he take?” Clark asked.

“Not sure yet. Blew out the whole operation before leaving, though. What did he say to you again, exactly?” Sam asked.

“Before stabbing me, he said his world was destroyed, and that where he came from we had a history. His hatred of me was very personal. He knows my Kryptonian name. I think . . . like I said before, I think this guy is from a parallel earth and that my parallel self there was somehow responsible for its end. He tried to rile me up. He said I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove my worth, to convince myself I’m . . . human. He even said that I’m still a scared, lost child, desperate for the love of people who will never accept me,” Clark loosely quoted with a heavy frown.

Sam’s expression stilled, posture tense. He swallowed. “I think, after everything, it’s clear that’s not true, Clark.”

Clark nodded. “I know, but it does make me wonder.” He looked up and met Sam’s eyes. “How different would I be if I didn’t have a family? If I never met Lois? Heck, if I didn’t land in Smallville? I mean, look at what happened to my brother, who I still haven’t heard back from.”

He took a deep breath, inwardly balking over the fact he still had yet to tell Sam a few things. They hadn't told him that the twins now knew the truth about Superman, nor had they told him about discovering exactly who Tal was - Morgan Edge. He and Lois had both decided to wait on sharing Tal's identity with anyone, but he supposed he could tell him about the twins – he only wished things weren't currently so hectic.

“Well, I’ll just be thankful for what is and not think about might-have-been’s,” Sam decided.

Clark hummed in soft agreement.

“Well, when he went to Moldova, he came in a ship,” Sam said, moving on.

“So he brought more than just a war suit with him,” Clark muttered.

“He sure did. My guys were able to assign this thing a residence identifier. If it goes airborne again, we got him,” Sam said.

“Good,” Clark said, relieved, about to segue the conversation to the twins knowing the truth, but Sam’s expression stopped him.

Sam shuffled his feet. “Look, Clark, I'll be honest, when Lois first told me you all were moving down here, I thought it was a mistake, but after thinking about it more, especially with everything that's happened. . . . I think, well, I think it's good if you take a breather. The higher ups are . . . well, nervous, I suppose is the best word."

"Because of what was done to my brother?" Clark asked.

"Among other things, but yes. They also don't want Bureau 39 to go public," Sam stated.

"I hope they understand that's not up to them, and, to be honest, I don't think it's up to me either. It's up to my brother."

Sam nodded grimly. "I told them that would likely be your position."

"If my brother asks me, I'm going to tell him to be upfront with the public, so they will understand why he didn't reveal himself sooner. And I will be up front as well, stating how the British government answered the U.S.'s inquiry and immediately sought answers and investigated the, I hope, rogue group," Clark added.

"I believe it had been a rogue group. But that's the other thing, Clark. They were wiped out. Completely wiped out. Only Adams and a few lowbies who have admitted to being involved have been found alive – and most of them have no proof, other than their word and limited knowledge of the program. All the rest met a variety of permanent ends."

Clark frowned and took a deep breath. "Adams told me something. I'm sure you noticed the odd muffled exchange not long before I left. He told me my brother had found him many years ago, after he had escaped, and pretty much told him to keep his head down and that he had removed his name from a list. From the way Adams phrased it, it sounded like my brother was warning him that the government was cleaning house."

Sam frowned. "Many of the deaths did have that feel, though–" Sam hesitated but then pressed on. "I hate to suggest it, but . . . could your brother have . . . ? I mean, to be frank, if I was in his position. . . ."

"The thought had crossed my mind, but . . . I don't know, Sam," Clark said. "He–"

Sam's phone rang and, after glancing at the caller ID, looked at Clark apologetically and answered it. "What is it, Rosetti? – Mongolia?"

At that, Clark took off.

O o O o O

Superman landed in Mongolia, spotting the Stranger in the field, not far from a big, futuristic ship.

"Stop!" Superman shouted.

"You tracked my ship," the man said, turning to face him.

"What do you want?" Superman asked, hands out and open in non-aggression.

"You . . . gone," the Stranger replied.

"What did that other me do?" Superman asked, earnest.

"You took everything from me! You destroyed my whole planet!" the man bellowed, enraged.

The Stranger rocketed forward, plowing into him, hard, propelling them both through the forest beyond, flying feet above the ground. Superman struck him, trying to get him to let go, before he punched him straight up. He flew after him, deciding he needed to end this quickly if he was actually going to get this guy into custody.

He bashed him straight down, letting him fall into the ground from a hundred feet up. He landed on him soon after, crushing the side of the man’s armor with his hand. He reeled back to hit him again, but the sound of beeping and the roar of engines snatched his attention.

The Stranger's ship was now in the air.

"I know you can hear the bomb in my ship. People are gonna get hurt. Me or them. Make a choice, Kal-El," the Stranger stated.

Superman didn't hesitate. He shot off after the massive ship, allowing the Stranger to flee.

Resigned to the fact that the Stranger would remain a threat, he flew forward, but then someone, who could only be one person, shot past him in the opposite direction, after the Stranger.

"Go, Brother! I have him!" Tal declared.

As much as he wanted to turn around, Superman remained on the ship, now even more motivated. "Okay!"

The beeping increased, and the ominous feeling grew as he got in front of the aircraft and pressed against it, narrowly stopping it from hitting the skyscrapers behind him. He pushed, the beeps speeding up as he guided it up into the atmosphere and into orbit.

It exploded a moment later, releasing a red pulse of suffocating energy.

He tumbled through the sky like a rag doll, his breath completely knocked out of him. The next thing he knew he was in the middle of a crater of dirt, trees, and rocks.

He then heard his brother's terrified cry. "Kal! Kal-El!"

"Tal?!" he answered, concerned by the fear he heard.

He got up and flew as quickly as he could to his brother, finding him pinning the Stranger on the ground of a deserted field in the middle of Arizona, beside a small motor home.

The Stranger's helmet was off, his suit was neutralized, and he was utterly defeated. And above him, holding him down, was Tal. He was wearing his black uniform, though it now also had a hood and face covering, with only his eyes and top bridge of his nose exposed.

Superman stepped forward as Tal got up, leaving the defeated man on the ground. Tal and Superman both hesitated as they approached one another, neither sure what to do.

"Are you okay, Brother?" Tal asked, stopping a pace away and holding out his hand.

"I am," Superman said, quickly taking the offered hand and, after waiting a beat, pulling him in for a brief hug. Tal returned it awkwardly but gratefully.

He had never really been hugged before.

"And you're okay?" Superman asked, pulling back and meeting his eyes.

Tal nodded, and even with the mask it was clear he was overwhelmed.

Superman glanced down at the bloodied Stranger who was staring at them from the ground with bewilderment and hatred. "Let's get him to the DoD and then we can talk."

Tal nodded, before motioning to the RV. "That is also his. I can get that while you handle him."

"Okay. Follow me," Superman said, smiling broadly.

O o O o O

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