Kal El becomes Superman

Based on a scene from season one of Supergirl. In this story Superman as such does not exist. Johnathan Kent's adopted son has not yet decided to become a hero. He does however know his Kryptonian name and around other aliens, uses it. Also, in case this becomes relevant, he did not come to the Kent house until he was already a teenager. 

Kal-El struggled with his chains. They were clearing made out of some non-terrestrial metal or they would have shattered easily. “Excuse me sir, I really wouldn't bother. If you try to escape he'll just hurt you again.”

“Escape? This a prison?”

“One of the more ancient and secure in 16 galaxies.” The man said calmly. As his eyes adjusted he could make out a man in the cell across from him. The man looked like a middle-aged human with light blonde hair and very thin eyebrows. He spoke with simplicity and confidence.

“Who are you and what brought you to this?”

“I was a farmer. And then I became a thief. And now I'll die for it.”

“And what planet's government sends you to death just for stealing.”

“My jailer claims Kryptonian authority. This place was a Kryptonian jail for the worst criminals in 16 galaxies so as far as that goes he is right. Krypton has NO death penalty for any crime.”

“You spent some time here before...I take it?”

“I was a smuggler for a cycle and sentenced here for 12.” Kal-El looked dejected. “It is fair, and I do not question the judgment. But I could wish they'd tell me for what new crime I've been re-arrested.” The man said in an even voice.

“You are here to pay for your original crime Nomatar.”

“I am NOT nameless.” The man said with surprising feeling. “My name is Narek.”

“Do you prefer I call you 008429?” the guard said indifferently.

“You can go ahead and execute me. But you cannot take my name from me.”

“I have already done that Nomatar.” the helmeted guard turned to his Kryptonian guest. “It means 'nameless'.” He explained casually.

“Under whose authority do you execute him?”

“Under my own authority you simpleton. I am the only surviving guard left to keep our oaths and continue enforcing justice.”

“Perhaps you will do me the courtesy of telling me where I have been imprisoned?”

“This was Fort Rozz. Designed to hold criminals from 16 of the 23 known inhabited galaxies. And now you Octavius will face true justice.” A thin man perhaps 26 Earth years of age was taken from the cell beside Narek's. His skin was sea green his hair matted and greasy. “Prisoner 008428, you have been found guilty of assault, theft, piracy and conspiracy to commit kidnapping. The sentence declared is death. To be carried out immediately.” No sooner had these words been spoken than Octavius was forced to his knees and beheaded.

“Octavius was his real name?” Kal-El asked of the man across the corridor from him.

“Yes. Why does that surprise you?”

“Why is he allowed to keep his name and you are not?”

Narek chuckled. “I was born on Star Haven. To them a name is a possession, a gift. Anton as I call him knows how demoralizing it is that even my name is taken from me. Laserites like Octavius don't particularly care.”

“So he does it as simply a final insult?”

“I suppose so.” The resignation on the man's face was heart-breaking.

“That's it, I'm getting you out of here.”

Kal-el burned the lock of his cell door with his heat vision, silently thanking whatever God existed that his jailer had not bothered to flood the cell with red sunlight. He pulled the door to Narek's cell off of its hinges. But was thrown backwards against the wall.

“You seriously have no respect for justice.” the guard growled darkly.

“I believe very strongly in Justice.” Kal-El retorted. “But that's not what this is.”

Narek ran to the wall and took a rifle from the weapons locker. He pointed it at Anton's temple. “You should seriously reconsider your current course of action. I will shoot you, if I have to.” He said in a wavering voice.

“So much for being a man of peace.” Anton taunted him.

“I am a man of peace Anton. We always had to defend our fields from rampaging herds and ravagers alike, which means I know how to use a weapon. And right now I'm defending a FRIEND, which means I will use it without hesitation. So I say again: Stand down.”

The guard instantly dropped his hands. “Why did you give me the name Anton?”

“You mean why that particular name for you? It means 'Solider of Duty'. It seemed to fit.”

“That it does.” He turned to Kal-El. “And I surrender myself to justice. I would go down on my knees and accept my sentence. But you won't kill me, will you?”

“No, I won't. But I will find you the most isolated cell in this place and lock you away in it.”

“The fourth sub-level on the twilight side.” The guard replied. Kal-el looked at Narek.

“It's for prisoners who would actually think about what they've done.” The man explained. “It's called twilight because the constant levels of low light and quiet sounds, which lend the place to thinking and reflection.”

“For criminals who would do their time without incident.”

“Yes, forgive me I did not even ask your name.”

“I suppose you would call me Kal-El.”

“...I see. Then you must forgive me but, may I ask what happens to me?”

That's when it occurred to him. The guard had not flooded his cell with red solar rays, because he'd had no way of knowing his race, neither had Narek. And this prison had once been run by Kryptonians. Which is why Anton had surrendered so willingly. To the simple, straight-forward mind of a prison guard, Kryptonians were in charge of their own prison.

“Where is home for you? On Earth I mean.”

“Colorado State University, Colorado Springs.”

“Then hold onto me. That's your next stop.” Narek wrapped his arms around Kal-El's torso. Four minutes later they were over the astronomy building of the university. Narek stumbled a bit as they touched down.

“I am quite grateful that I did not acquire the ability to fly on this planet.”

“I'm still getting used to it myself.”

“You're letting me go?”

“Yes. That's the general idea.” Kal-El said slowly.

“I don't understand. Why would you do this?”

“Well from MY understanding you've served your time. Besides, I'd say your actions today earned you an early release.”

Narek took Kal's hands in his own, shaking in pure joy. “I could never repay you for this.”

“Yes you can.” Kal-El said with a smile. “Lead a good life. Keep being kind.”

“I promise I will.”

“What do you teach here anyway?”

“Can you not guess?”

“I'd say linguistics but...The stars. You teach humans about the stars.”

“The one thing I know better than anyone else on this planet. Beside most humans aren't interested in learning alien languages.”

“And Earth languages would sound...more than a little strange to you, naturally.”

Narek turned his head away and looked sideways at Kal-El. “Would it be presumptuous of me to say you have redeemed your family name today?”

“I do not understand your hesitation. The question itself for that matter. I was raised here on Earth. I don't my know Kryptonian culture any more than I know – a Laserites.”

Narek picked on a stick started digging into the grass. “This is the symbol for the House of El. Which I take by your surname to be your family. humans would say they have their noses firmly in the air. None more so than one named Zor-El. He sentenced hundreds here without a thought.”

“Including you.”

“One wrong cannot be negated for better or worse by committing another Kal-El. When I said I accepted the justice of my sentence, I meant it. But I stole a sum equal to almost a year's pay. There are those who got my sentence for stealing the contents of a farmhouse.” Kal El turned his head away, dejected. “You are not your family.” Narek continued hurriedly. “You've done a great thing here. And if I have anything to say about it, mercy and compassion will be what the house of El is known for.”

The Story Nikita Told

 A young man with dark hair and an open face sat in front of me. “Are you all-right?”

“Yes. Yes I believe so. I'm sorry to have caused you so much trouble.”

“Okay why don't we start with proper introductions. My name is Clark Kent.”

“I am...called Nikita. It means 'hidden strength'.”

“Listen it's okay. You're safe here.”

“I don't think you are.” I replied slowly.

“I'm sorry, what?” A middle aged man with dark blonde curly hair said from the other side of the coffee table. He looked more concerned than anything else. But I could tell I had alarmed him.

“I didn't mean that as a threat sir. And I'm not radio-active or anything. But I am I..”

“You're in trouble.” Clark finished for me. “I kind of figured seeing you were unconscious and shaking when I found you.”

“I wasn't running away. I was...an asset. And my D.E.O. taskmaster WILL want me back.”

“D-E-- Department of Extra-normal Operations.” Clark reasoned. “Does that mean you are, from the stars?”

“My home planet is 50 miles past nowhere and yes I am resident alien. Wait – KENT?”

“Uh__yeah. The name mean something to you?” The older man said with an utter lack of hostility in his voice. In face he seemed quite literally nothing except surprised.

“When I first came to Earth, the first...Okay backing up a minute. The name Hiram Kent is treasured for me. I never found him though.”

“You never met him, and yet you value him, why? Or more importantly, what went wrong?”

“First, please tell me, are you descendant from him?”

“I guess that would come first.” Clark intoned. “Proper introductions should have included all of us anyway. Nikita, Johnathan Kent is my adopted father. He is Hiram's natural son.”

“Okay this is almost too cool to be real.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I believe in providence, or something like it. And if I didn't before I would start to believe in it right now. This is more awesome a thing than I could have anticipated. I have no way to convince you, but I will find a way to assure you it was not deliberate on my part. Breth-so-ree Ya Rey Fa Sool.”

“This may be a weird time to say it but is there a reason you didn't give your family name?”

“You mean other than the possible explanation that I disavowed my family name when I arrived on your planet. The very simple reason that I was never given my family's name. My own family that I lived with back home never claimed me. So no real family, no family name to inherit. That's how I came to your planet...Earth I mean.”

“...So you know I'm an alien, it reasons.”

“I know you're Kryptonian from the house of El.” I countered. Both men's necks snapped inward as if someone had dropped a very loud boulder in front of their faces. “It's what I started to explain before. The first friendly face I ever met on this planet was similarly foreign to it. He met me in the some caves to the west of here. As we waited for the rain to pass he told me of a small village, of a woman he had loved with all of his heart. That woman died and he was pursued for her murder. It was a complete accident but he didn't know how to explain it. He told me also of a good man named Hiram Kent who sheltered him from the police and helped him get safely away before the sun rose. This man, who I suppose I would call a friend if I met him again, identified himself to me as Jor-El. And I knew you had the powers a kryptonian derives from exposure to Earth's yellow sun, otherwise you could not have found me in the Canadian Rockies and carried me to the plains of Kansas in as little time as I hope has passed.”

“Did he stay long?” Clark asked me urgently. I shook my head.

“He said with the death of his love he had no reason to stay on this 'fractured planet' anymore. I think he meant by that 'hopelessly divided into millions of exceedingly different individuals'. I went a different direction from Smallville, geographically speaking. Almost 30 years later I was enfolded—that is the only word I have for it-- into the D.E.O. And I have served there for the past six years. Speaking of, I know you're there.” A dark skinned man with almost completely shorn locks and military aspect stepped forward.

“It's good to see you Nikita.” He said mildly.

“And you as well Director Henshaw.” I replied in just as temperate a tone.

“Found some new friends I see?”

“These people most kindly gave me shelter, yes. And yes I kind of like them. I take it...” I stopped myself, I had to be very careful not to break D.E.O protocol. Not just for the sake of Henshaw but so as not to confuse my hosts. “I have an idea but I have to ask for his own sake. Does this mean...Jeremiah?”

“I haven't seen him in three days. I have assume he was killed in action.”

“Johnathan and Clark Kent, Director Hank Henshaw of the Department of Extra-normal Operations. You're the one who mentioned we had been on a mission. I'M not breaking protocol in confirming that.”

“Fair enough.”

I felt the eyes of everyone in the room on me. “Something else happened, didn't it?”

“You could say so. I'd prefer to tell you the rest of it back at headquarters.”

“Then let's get back to the base so we can talk about it.”

“She is not going anywhere.” Clark said, taking a threatening step toward the director.

I shook my head at him. “Clark, while this is a free country I am a ward of his organization. You have no legal grounds to keep me. And that is what you would be doing you know. For the past 3 decades I have been a legal migrant of this country. It's my choice to make and I have made it. If you get in my way, you will be the one keeping me here against my will. . Unlike an old friend of mine, I never had a family to be torn from. The D.E.O. is sadly the closest thing to what a family should be that I can even remember. And in going back to it I am going home.”

We were within proverbial sight of the D.E.O. tower when I turned to face the Director. “It IS good to see you, J'onn.” Every muscle in his hands tensed on the wheel. “I'm an empath, I know you're not Hank Henshaw. You knew not only who Jeremiah was, but where we had been just under 3 days ago. And you do not feel even remotely like the asshole we left unconscious back there. I know Martians are shape-shifters. It was on a very short list of things that made sense.”

“And you're coming back with me? I mean you...won't betray me?”

“Am I going back in my cell? Are you planning on assuming the worst of every single powerful alien you ever meet? If Jeremiah was alive would you force him to follow your orders, against his own conscience?”

“Absolutely not. Of course not, you know that. And by NO means. In that order.”

“Then let's try another way. Let's make the D.E.O. something Jeremiah would have chosen to be part of.”

“I'm glad we think alike.” Was all J'onn said aloud. But I could feel his spirits rise.

“And that's how I came to serve at the D.E.O as a free individual. Under the real Hank Henshaw I was a prisoner, and then something like a ward of the state. I had a job to do and not much choice about whether, much less how to do it. J'onn made me an active agent of the D.E.O. I guess you would say he gave me a commission. But he is a little lax with me on smaller protocols.”

“Like wearing a DEO uniform.” General Anderson inferred.

“He knows what it would mean for me to wear one. And you pleasantly surprise me." Anderson blushed at the vibrant praise.

Nikita, her friend, and a Protector

Why Earth 42 is called 'the one where they're the extreme of themselves'.

The Beginning of Greatness

"They are that protected."

“We need a voice like theirs in the chorus. Her people are not good at making enemies. Most of the races out there in the galaxies really wouldn't see the point in conquering them. White Martians are the most obvious exception.”

Nikita noticed the look in my eyes and explained. “No, Jeremiah, he is absolutely 100% correct. White Martians are considered blind, militaristic assholes to any race that are not themselves militaristic and self-superior.”

“But the fight might have been taken out of the one we...Hank has in custody.”

“So that wouldn't have told me. Anyway, now I know Deimos was...oh for the love of all things natural!”

“What, what's wrong?”

“Did all of this come to a screeching halt just because I figured out which ancient Martian you came from?

When J'onn spoke, his voice was soft and deliberate. “It came to a halt because I realized you weren't Enkaren. Because this man,” He indicated me with his hand, “proved himself to be a Good man. And I never should have laid a proverbial finger on you in the first place.”

THIS is narrated by Nikita:

“Jeremiah, are you there?”

“Behind you.” He answered. We were tied back to back. “Are you alright?”

“Head's a little spinny. But I'm okay.”

“Solente Karesh-Esai.”

I heard a voice, but couldn't see anyone. I saw we were in a basement. And someone was watching us. “Whoever you are, please let us see you. Don't make me talk to darkness.” Nothing changed. “No Sonto ni-sakara Nesta- Zaki. Please, whoever you are, let me see your face.” A tall, thin man stood from the shadows to my left. His sloped skull and tinted green skin reminded me of nothing so much as an orchard of lime trees. “Thank you. I don't know what else to say.”

“Who...Who are you?” His voice sounded like he had long since lost the habit of using it. He looked from Jeremiah to me and back.

“My name is Jeremiah.” He stated with the slightest insistence in his voice.

“My name is Nikita. I suppose it would be naive of me to ask your name.” The man simply crouched down and stared at me. “Among my people it is extremely rude not to introduce yourself, even among enemies.”

“I am not of your people.” The man replied.

“Fair enough.” Jeremiah answered. I drifted off to sleep soon after.

When I woke up there was only gray light in the high windows, a sign we were in a basement. Jeremiah was still tied up behind me. I looked around.

“He's not here.”

“He is...do you think this is his home?”

“Perhaps. But I doubt trespassing was our transgression.”

“Jeremiah whatever happens, do not lie to him.”

“Heh. Only you could be concerned about such a thing.”

“In some alien cultures lying about having committed a murder is a more repulsive act than having taken another life. Breaking your word is as serious a violation as having taken a life for at least possibly justifiable reasons. I am 96% certain our host is of such a kind.”

The man approached from the stairs to my left holding a small bowl of water out to me. “My friend first.” I told him and turned my head away. The man took the bowl to Jeremiah. And then brought it back to me.

“It's a kind of meso soup.” Jeremiah noted aloud.

“I've made plenty more.” Our host said before turning around to leave.

I could sense Jeremiah wanting to ask me a question. “I don't need much anymore. My body has trained itself to survive on little. Besides, he needs to see that you're worth it__to me.”

The man did not return until there was no longer light coming through the windows. “Listen, I'm certain you can understand me, you can trust my words. You don't need to keep us restrained like this in order to keep us here. So why do you?”

“In case I was a fighter. In case either of us resisted.” Jeremiah answered me.

The man nodded his agreement.

“I just want to see Jeremiahs face. I want to be able to look you both in the face when we talk. You can keep our hands tied I just want to be able to use my legs. Even the D.E.O allowed me that. If we're going to...” I had been about to say 'going to trust each-other, show this sign of trust'. But I suddenly felt that our host had long since forgotten what it felt like to trust some one else. “If you want to see who we are – what choice we would make – give us the ability to make a choice. Give Jeremiah his hands. He'll show you where his loyalties lie. Or rather where they do NOT sit.” As if on impulse the man cut Jeremiah and I free from each-other. A moment later he the bonds around Jeremiah's wrist. Jeremiah stood, and tore the D.E.O. emblem off his shirtsleeve.

Narrated by Jeremiah once again:

The alien would feed us, ask a few rather simple questions and then leave. He never did anything more TO me than shove me against a wall or punch me in the chest when I was 'being implacable'. He actually, well, took care of us. I was having trouble making heads or tails of him. Nikita it seemed was having similar difficulties.

“This is...I don't even know how to finish that sentence.”

“Nikita calm down, you'll only exhaust yourself.”

“I...You're right of course. It's just our host, for lack of another word confuses me.”

“How do you read him? I mean I know you can, a lot better than most.”

“I'm not a telepath, I sense motivations, intentions and any strong feelings. That's it.”

His motivation is what I'm trying to figure out. For holding us prisoner three weeks and running he doesn't seem particularly interested in us.”

“He's trying to make sense of us. More specifically, of me.”

Just after sunrise the next morning their alien keeper came in, face set like flint.

“Come with me, now.” He said to Nikita, who did not move. “I'll not ask again.”

I stood in front of Nikita. “Leave her alone.” The man raised his hand, as if to backhand me, but thought the better of it at the last instant. “Please, whatever you have planned for her, take me instead.”

“For all you know I'm about to take her away and execute her. Do you still volunteer?”

“I would not. But I know you're going to. Nikita was right if you wanted either one of us dead we'd BE dead by now. What you want from either of us is answers.”

“Yes. And it's time I get them.” He grabbed Nikita by the wrist. I grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away. He looked at me surprised. “Your actions are heroic, if exceedingly unwise.”

'What do you want with her?' Why the sudden interest in her specifically?' 'Leave her alone you animal!' These thoughts flashed across my mind and were probably all over my face. I held out my hands in an emphatically non-threatening posture. “Sir, and I call you that because I have nothing else to call you, for what must be a month by now we've been civil with each-other, though exceedingly impatient. A friend of mine told me even enemies can give each-other compliments. We've lived that, so far. But this is something I cannot...If you hurt her, my restraint will go right out the window. I will probably die trying to take you down. But if you let her go, I swear on my life you can do whatever you want to me__in payment of that debt.”

This speech did not have quite the effect I intended. The green-skinned alien actually backed away from us and cast down his eyes. “You, care for her?” He whispered.

“This surprises you?”

“Yes. What IS she to you? I mean...who is she to you?”

“Someone who has been tortured for years by a man far more blind than I have words to express. A man I served under for years and at one time looked up to. And I would die before I let her come to harm again. If there is one truth of which I need no convincing it is that she is innocent. And she is precious to me. You are not so blind as Hank and yet you are, I cannot understand it. Please, she has been through enough, let her alone.”

“Among my people not to introduce yourself is extremely rude, even among enemies. That is a tenet across the galaxies. We have given you our names Sajen. I'd appreciate the same courtesy.” Nikita's voice came as a balm to the conversation.

“I do not understand.”

“Neither does our host...at all. He is almost as blind as Henshaw himself and he can freaking read out minds to learn the truth of our souls!” Nikita's voice displayed no anger. The only emotion to come through was...regret. “You've learned I'm not Enkaren. And not the threat you feared. You must have thought HE was one. Why? OR are you Phobos?”

“You know the difference?” The Martian inquired, astonished beyond measure.

“I know who they are. I don't know which is which. That was the problem. 'In the early days of Mars there were two brothers, Phobos and Deimos. Their rivalry and bloodshed was the reason for the split of the Green and White Martians.' I learned that from an Enkaren woman I once knew. I understood Phobos and Deimos were like Ishmael and Issac from the Bible. Except they split along such divergent paths they became two separate races rather than founding two separate religions. I never learned who was whose progenitor. I've never met your kind before in my life. The White Martian I met was...Hank's favorite example of how dangerous aliens are. She'd been in that cell for over a decade when I met her. No one could hold completely to their own identity after that.” She spoke with unrestrained bitterness. “In case you haven't figured it out yet, Henshaw was a Creech-ta. If not a Chrish-naka Sareth. And until now you seemed equally blinded.”

“Why do I get the feeling if you had known I belonged to Deimos... you would have...”

“ 'Deimos Pah, Tar-ek Ni-cha.' As I almost said aloud 3 days ago.”

“Phobos and Deimos are the progenitors of the Martian races. White Martians are...”

“Monsters.” Nikita finished for him. “I was reasonably certain of that because of my other alien friends. I just never knew who came from whom.”

“How in the name of rational thought are you speaking the Enkaren language so naturally if you are not, yourself Enkaren?!”

“Because it's my native language as well!” Nikita replied, openly laughing at her host.

“But you...you're not...” He rubbed his left forefinger against her temple, as if tracing something that should be there, but wasn't. “Are you Xavallen?” He asked nonplussed.

“Why should that be of particular interest to you?”

The alien bowed himself at the waist and backed away from Nikita.

“I...my name is... J'onn Jo'nzz. And I must humbly beg your pardon.”

“I...do not understand. Please you owe me nothing. You might owe Jeremiah an apology for so completely misjudging him but you owe me nothing.

“Okay, I'm officially lost. And I don't mind admitting it.”

“No less so than I.” Nikita intoned.

“You...you don't...” J'onn actually stammered.

“My parents taught me more about Enkarens, Brevaks, Zyerilians and such than they did about our own race. That's why I left. There was a coming of age ceremony 2 years before I became a legal independent adult on my planet. But I never had one. My biological parents didn't think I was worth teaching my own races history and culture. I ran away. And because I wasn't a legal adult by our planets laws that's what I was: A runaway.”

“I was as wrong about the two of you as this arrogant human you keep talking about. I am sorry. And I will FIND a way to make it right.” He walked away without another word.

Several hours later. I walked up the stairs to first floor of the house. I found J'onn sitting at a breakfast table, staring out a window, looking at the sunset. “Most races in the galaxies at all no matter how much they try to lift the head of another and put the needs of their friends first, would still put their own life, their own survival before anything else. Xavallens don't. They are, by comparison, Friars and Philosophers.”

“Getting a 'B' in self-preservation but an 'A' in protecting others, strangers?”

“If I understand you correctly, yes.”

“I'm afraid I still don't understand your...attitude change.”

“Enkarens and Xavallens are sibling races to each-other. Enkarens are – genetically speaking in trouble – but also far superior to humans in most respects. And apparently, along with the Atraxi, they all speak the same native language.”

Right about then, I began to understand. “You thought she was Enkaren because she spoke that same language. But she doesn't make sense for an Enkaren. What is the significance of her being Zavallen?”

“Xavallens are protected. They are...almost treasured. If I had known what she was, hurting her to get you to speak...laying a finger on her without declaring my purpose would have been a punishable crime for 17 of the 23 major powers in the galaxies.

"They are...that protected."

“Most of us realize we need a voice like theirs in the chorus. And...her people are not good at making enemies. So most of us...really wouldn't see the point in conquering them. White Martians being the obvious exception.”

Nikita noticed the look in my eyes and explained. “No, Jeremiah, he is absolutely 100% correct. White Martians are considered blind, militaristic assholes to any race that are not themselves militaristic and self-superior.”

“The fight might have been taken out of the one we...Hank has in custody.”

“I am not sure I understand.” J'onn said briefly.

“There was a White-skinned Martian at the D.E.O.” I explained. The behavior of that Martian might've been the result of prolonged captivity under Hank's care. And not indicative of his race.”

“So that wouldn't have told me.” Nikita continued. “Anyway, now I know Deimos is... oh for the love of all things natural!”

“What, what's wrong?”

“Did all of this come to a screeching halt just because I figured out which ancient Martian you came from?

When J'onn spoke, his voice was soft and deliberate. “It came to a halt because I realized you weren't Enkaren. Because this man,” He indicated me with his hand, “proved himself to be a Good man. And I never should have laid a proverbial finger on you in the first place.” He turned back to me. “On either of you.”

That's when I finally realized. “You thought I was...her keeper?”

“I thought she was Enkaren and you were keeping her calm and under control.”

“Demios Pah, Tor-ek Nitch-a.” Nikita said fiercely. And I could tell she thoroughly meant it.

“WHAT?!” I exclaimed. “Nikita, what the hell was that?”

“She says I've dishonored the name of my ancestor. And she's not wrong.”

“Phobos, that is White Martians are known as aggressive, arrogant and flat out obsessed with their own races superiority. Deimos, those that trace their heritage back to Deimos are known to be honorable, duty-bound and stiff by comparison.”

“So, just to confirm, what we think of as the 'Enkaren' language...”

"...is the native language of Xavallens, Atraxi and Enkarens. We share the same root."

"That is...no longer taught."

“It's been the better part of 3,000 years and Enkarens no longer look like us. The three of us being sibling races is presumably still taught. But most people hear an Enkaren speaking and instantly think they are hearing the 'Enkaren tongue'. Now that I think about it, Jeremiah never got the chance to learn this either.”

“Now THAT I find hard to believe.”

“Hank wasn't interested in learning anything about her except how to break her. I knew the name of her race because she kept introducing herself to us 'My name is Nikita; I'm Xavallen'. But the word Xavallen didn't mean anything to me beyond that.”

“If I had known what she was, laying a hand on her to get you to talk would have been a crime. And I would have begged her forgiveness.”

“Sir, I confess I don't know where this comes from. But I know her, she holds you no grudge, for any of this.”

“And what about you?”

“You didn't know. And besides, it was as much my choice as hers.”

“I can see why she loves you so much.”

“...Loves me?”

“Like a father.” His face became concerned, and amazed. “You didn't know?”

“I didn't really have the chance to get to know her, until about 3 months ago.”

Clark's Roller-Coaster

 “Tal Rho please, leave her out of this.”

“Your affinity for these humans is astonishing.”

“Not for humans brother – her.” Superman put himself to the floor, set his palms on his thighs and looked up at a Kryptonian general he both respected and pitied. “I'll do whatever you ask, I swear it. Just leave her alone.”

“What is it about this simple creature that you humiliate yourself so willingly?”

“I'll tell you, but she's not like us, not even like humans for that matter, this lake is poison to her. Get her out of there, now.”

“Save her yourself.” Tal Rho replied without particular emotion, least of all sarcasm. Clark flew to Nikita, pulled her out of the Burning Lake, so the lake would have been called in Kryptonian, and lifted her to the shore. He put his hand to the left side of Nikita's torso. Where the Xavallen heart was positioned. When he looked up, Tal-Rho was staring down at him, his face hard and unreadable, except for the concern shining in his eyes.

Kal-El made a very respectful decision and began speaking in Kryptonian. “Grant me one favor – let me take her home. She is my adopted daughter.” Tal Rho started and took a single step closer to his captive. “I have a wife, a human wife her name is Lois. We adopted Nikita four years ago.” He hesitated briefly. “Will you promise me you'll leave them alone?”

Tal-Rho looked at him, surprised and moved but not entirely convinced. Superman resumed English. “I submit. I'll do what you ask, I swear it. But I beg of you, leave my family alone.”

“WE will take your daughter home. And you will follow me to my fortress, my home. You have my promise I will let your human family live unharmed. I make no such promise for anyone else...including you brother.”

“I ask nothing else.”

Having said goodbye to his wife and daughter, Kal-El followed his brother through the desert. A new life and an unknown world awaited him. Tal-Rho was a stranger to him. Until 3 weeks ago he had not even known the man was Kryptonian let alone his half-brother. Clark was certain punishment for the sake of punishment, intentional cruelty was not in Tal's nature. Prior to forcing his surrender, Tal had asked him to join him of his own free will. His refusal had clearly wounded the man. But he was forced to admit he knew almost nothing else about the man. Which left him in the dark about what was coming next. What would Tal-Rho force him to do?

They came to a high plateau in the badlands. They halted and alighted before it. Tal walked slowly and disappeared within a holographic projection of a rock wall. Clark followed. And was greeted by the sight of an enormous cavern, bright, airy and natural. The sun warmed the air but there was not a breath of wind.

“This is my home.” Tal offered, sparing Kal the need to ask. “And for most purposes, yours as well Kal-El.”

“You knew I would never turn against humanity.” Kal El observed.

“as long as you don' – that was the one thing of which I am absolutely assured.”

“What will you have me do?”

“Relax brother I'm not going to launch you against the human race. You've promised me you won't resist us, that's enough for me.”

“And acknowledging that I ask you, what will you have me do?”

Tal-Rho nodded, in recognition. “Take that self-righteous glyph off your chest.”

“Burn it off.” Clark said firmly. “If it offends you so much, burn it off. I won't stop you. But it still means something to me. I won't betray myself.”

“You understand Kryptonian ways better than I thought.” Tal's eyes glowed red and heat shot from them like lasers. The crest on Superman's uniform melted away. “This is for you brother, wear it with dignity.” Tal teased as he hung a silver chain and green jewel around Kal's neck. It was kryptonite and just enough fo it – apparently- to make Kal feel sick and fall to the ground. That is to say, enough to make him weak, not enough to actually poison him. Don't worry Ka-rean, you'll get used to it.”

“Ka-rean, 'small one' I suppose I should have expected that.” Superman said without a hint of hostility in his voice.

“What is it you want Tal?” Kal-El demanded fearfully. “What are you trying to achieve?”

“Truthfully, I'm not entirely sure. Beyond the moderate pleasure of hearing you call me 'master' on occasion.”

“I will never call you 'master'.” Kal-El retorted. “I will call you 'sire' or 'great one' or even 'the Majestic', but never 'Master'!”

“Great One will suffice.”

Super Surprise

 Part of the Superman Defeated Series I'm working on

“No, no please. Whatever I have done, whatever you have against me, leave her alone. Are you truly afraid of me or do you simply hate me? I honestly don't know. But you have no reason to hurt her. There's nothing she could have done to deserve this.”

“You seem awfully certain of that for someone without his memories.”

“I have memories of the last 8 weeks and vague memories of my friends before that. Nikita is in almost every single one of them. Since I woke up I have learned enough of my life to come to exactly two conclusions. 1. I'm alone in the universe. 2. Because of Nikita I don't FEEL so alone. I will fight to my last breath for her if it...” Superman's words seemed to fail him as he let himself fall to his knees. He bowed his head to the ground. “Let her go. I'm the one you want, so take me. Just don't hurt her anymore. Show mercy I beg of you.”

“Sir please, whatever I have done to make you my enemy, punish me not her! You hate me, I don't know if you're afraid of me but you hate me. So be it. Whatever you want from me, don't make her suffer for my sins. She is true innocence if such a thing exists on this planet. On that I would stake my life if I could! I'll do whatever you ask I SWEAR it. Just don't hurt her anymore.” He collapsed to the floor, landing on his left hand as he did so. “Put me in her place if you want. I won't fight you. But I beg you: Spare her.”

“...Thank you Superman.” Lex Luthor said almost congenially.

“Take off your robe, it offends my sight!” Sarjaq barked to his boy toy. Slowly, barely willingly Oliver undid the cord that secured his only covering. “Prepare yourself.” The master teased.

Sarjaq slapped his favorite pet hard on his naked rear. Several smooth, quick, hard blows. The human trembled but kept his balance, and his silence. Moments later Sarjaq slapped him again, with what could only have been the hard, metal paddle he used for 'innocent foreplay'. Oliver knew what that meant. He had gone from being his masters plaything to his a pet, not even a human slave. As if in confirmation. “Down boy. Down. Come. On. You,. Can. Do. That. At. Least.”

ALREADY HERE

“I swear to you I don't understand what's going on. But whatever happened between us, please do not hold my arrogance against her. She is true innocence if such a thing exists on this planet. Whatever you want from me I'll do it. Whatever I have to do to make this right, I will do it. Just stop hurting her!” Superman put his hand to his mouth and bit into his own palm. “You say I'm a monster. Well you haven't said that but you treat me like one. And I accept it. Whatever you want from me. Whatever I did to you or even if I did nothing, don't make her suffer for my sins. Take your revenge on me alone. There must be something that can penetrate my iron flesh. I'll happily submit! Lex raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. “Sir please, whatever I have done, whatever I could have done to make you my enemy, punish me not her! She is more than innocent of any wrongdoing between us. On that I would stake my life. If all you want out of this is my surrender, you have it.”

“I swear to you I don't understand what's going on. But whatever happened between us, please do not hold my arrogance against her. She is true innocence if such a thing exists on this planet! Whatever you want from me, you have it. Whatever I have to do to make this right, I will do it. Just stop hurting her!” Superman put his hand to his mouth and bit into his palm. “You say I'm a monster. Well you haven't said that but you treat me like one. And I accept it. I'm not kidding you! I don't know why you hate me. Min Gud I barely know who I am. But whatever you want from me, whatever I did to you or even if I did nothing, dont' make her suffer for my sins. Take your revenge on me alone. There must be something that can penetrate my iron flesh. I'll happily submit.” Lex Luthor raised an eyebrow. “That's what your after, isn't it? You want my surrender. You have it.”

Superman pulled himself down to his knees but looked steadily at Lex Luthor. “I swear to you I don't understand what's going on. But whatever happened between us, please do not hold my arrogance against her. She is true innocence if such a thing exists on this planet!”

“I never thought I'd see the day you give yourself up to save another.” Lex Luthor mused.

“Sir, for reasons I can't quite explain, she is precious to me. If there is one truth of which I need no convincing, it's that she is innocent. If you hurt her my restraint will go out the window. And I might end up killing you. I don't deny that and I won't. But if you spare her, you can do whatever you want with me__in payment of that debt.” He threw himself to the floor, before Lex Luthor. “I'll do whatever you ask, I SWEAR it! Put me in her place if you want. I won't fight you. All I ask is that – no I BEG of you – let her go.”