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#9
JUL 07 |
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“Men of Steel”
New Troy, Metropolis
Delaware
There it was, finally, on the other side of the nose-print smudged window of the yellow taxi. It wasn’t often that Clark felt like remotely this, but as he looked up at his high-rise apartment he finally understood that sense of longing from being away from home for too long – nearly half a week in this case. As a being that could traverse the globe in a matter of minutes he was never far from being any where at any given time and it felt odd to him for taking so long to return home, but with Jimmy Olsen attached at his hip for their entire trip in Pokolistan he felt every minute melt by slowly.
So, for those long days, there was little for him to do than struggle with the knowledge that his friend, Peter Ross, had been nearly killed and was now fighting for his life without compounding the problem of trying to explain how Clark – a simple mild mannered reporter – had made it back to the United States days ahead of schedule minus his partner.
“So, your wife’s still in Washington?” Jimmy asked, pulling Clark’s mind back to the moment.
The taxi slowed to a stop. Clark looked at his friend and adjusted his glasses with a finger. “Um, yeah, she should be returning some time tomorrow night.” His tremendously powerful hands pulled the doors handle and pushed the door open. Clark also felt slightly uncomfortable in cars, or any tight space, as he spent most of his time traveling in the open sky with little around him for miles let alone being stuffed in this tin can. “She’s supposed to call me tonight.”
Jimmy slid over to claim more space as Clark vacated the taxi. “That sucks. Hell, I’d offer to kill a couple hours with ya, but Perry’s wife, Alice, kinda jumped on the Lois Lane bandwagon and set me up on a blind date with a friend’s daughter. If you lose water pressure tonight that’ll be me with another cold shower. I dunno how much longer I can keep up with them.”
Despite his mood Clark chuckled as the cabbie handed him his baggage from the now open trunk – slipping him a crisp twenty-dollar tip to the driver in return. “Well, good luck buddy. I’ll see you at work tomorrow. I can’t wait to see those pictures developed.”
“Yeah, right. I’m surprised Perry wasn’t waiting for us at the airports gate to drag us back to the office by the lobes of our ears.” The cabbie slid back into the driver seat. Clark pushed the door shut as Olsen waved through the window. Moments later the yellow car moved away from the curb.
Suddenly, a thought entered Jimmy’s head and he spun around to look at Clark through the rear window, but his friend was already gone from the sidewalk. With a shrug Jimmy pushed the thought aside and turned back around. By the time Jimmy finished the motion his friend was already halfway over Maryland.
Georgetown University Medical Center
Washington D.C.
The coffee felt comfortable in her hands. The warmth radiated through her skin chasing the chill in her fingertips away that had developed from the shock of being attacked. Her mind was numb, drifting into nothingness while taking solace in the only thing that felt good to her right now. So much so, that Lana almost forgot to take a sip of the liquid that she gazed hypnotically down at with her own reflection staring numbingly back at her on its rippling brown surface. The bustling activity of the hospitals cafeteria failed to draw her attention away and it wasn’t until something soft brushed against her hand that reality was suddenly thrust upon her like a quieted stereo hastily turned to eleven, and she realized that her name was repeatedly being called.
“I’m sorry, Lois, I guess I just drifted off.” Lana looked up and rubbed her tired eyes. She hadn’t slept in two solid days.
Lois offered a sympathetic half-hearted smile. “It’s okay, I know what you’re going through, trust me. It always feels pretty surreal, but somehow it all works out in the end. Pete’s strong, Lana, he’ll pull through.”
“How do you know that?”
Lois shrugged. “Because, there’s no other choice. That’s what the good guys do.”
Clark Kent sat in agonizing silence, thumbing his wedding ring for lack of anything better to do. The golden band resisted the tremendous force strained upon it in its wearer’s frustration. Its unique blending of a rare Martian metal with one more commonly found on Rann granted it the great strength it needed to bear the normal day-to-day stress that was constantly applied to it wrapped around the finger of who was arguably one of the most powerful men in the universe. Normal gold was far too malleable, even to those with normal strength and therefore totally useless to him.
The bellows of the breathing machine next to the bed hissed and it expanded then compressed forcing Pete Ross’s lungs and chest to rise and fall in time with it. Clark leaned in his chair and whispered. “What did you do Peter? What did you find?” there was little doubt in his mind that Luthor was somehow responsible for this.
“Move a finger, twitch an eyelid. Let me know you’re still there and you’re gonna be fine.”
The Vice President remained still. Clark reached out and squeezed his friend’s hand, wishing that he could somehow transfer his powers to the critical man in order to help his chances to recover. “I knew in the back of my mind that something terrible would happen because of Lex. I just prayed it wouldn’t have happened to you.”
The extra burden of responsibility weighed on Clark’s mind. Peter Ross was his friend. They went all the way back to the days when they were building alphabet block forts in kindergarten in Smallville. It was in Smallville where Luthor announced that Pete was going to be his running mate. Clark, naturally, felt very proud of his friend even if he was attached to the most deceitful men in the country.
The door behind him opened softly as if the person opening it wished not to disturb those inside, despite that it would have taken an act of God to stir the sleeping patient. Clark stood to greet his wife and Lana as they entered, catching a glimpse of the four Secret Service Agents – in their typical black suits – standing just outside of the threshold at the same time. He also knew that half a dozen snipers were positioned on the rooftops around the Hospital.
Lana looked at her husband and visibly shrank a couple inches. “Thank you for staying with him, Clark. I just couldn’t sit here for another minute and watch him like this.”
“Please, don’t worry about it. I’m glad I could be here. Though, I should be getting ready to go out tonight, ask some questions and find Metallo.”
Lois reached out and grabbed her husband’s hand. “That’s fine, hun, they’re restricting visiting hours anyway so you can’t be here. I’m going to stay with Lana though. Perry’s giving me a couple days leave.”
Clark pulled his wife into a hug and whispered ‘thank you’ into her ear. Lois pulled away and looked up into the strong crystal blue eyes of the 6’-3” tall man. “I love you. Be careful out there.”
“Tell that to Metallo.” Clark turned to Lana. “If you need anything you know how to get a hold of me.”
Lana nodded and revealed the watch on her wrist. Hidden under the clocks face was a sonic transmitter set to a frequency only few on the planet could hear. “I do.”
Clark nodded and with one last look at his friend, he turned and left the room.
The White House
Special Agent Michael Penn took in a deep breath of the crisp night air. The clean scent of the freshly manicured lawn mixed nicely with the sweet smell of the tediously tended rose garden and the crabapples that had begun to ripen. He admired the hard work that had been put into this garden for nearly a century, but the one piece that he always favored was the bed of white ‘Nevada Roses’. It was something about the way they looked in the moonlight that fascinated him.
Agent Penn began to walk the lawn by the West Colonnade, designed by Thomas Jefferson, on his tour of the White House’s perimeter. He fought the urge to strike up a cigarette now that he was outside. The sweet tobacco tempted his tongue even though it was against policy to smoke and Michael did not feel like losing his job over something that trivial.
A short sudden, strong gust of frozen air washed over his back sending a shiver up his spine and goose-bumps to raise on his flesh. Michael shook the cold off, thinking about how odd it was that it was nearly 60° above tonight and that breeze was easily that much below zero.
“Excuse me, sir.”
The sudden unexpectedness of the voice behind him caused Agent Penn to spin in an instant with one hand reaching for the pistol hidden under his coat that was masked by the special tailoring. The hand froze as his fingers tickled the grip of the Glock 22, and his mouth dropped open in surprise as he stared at the soles of a pair of red leather boots. Michael’s eyes traveled up away from the boots to blue covered legs, to a pair of arms folded across a wildly recognizable red and yellow crest, up to a very strong chin and stopped at powerful blue eyes.
“Superman…” he whispered, his voice caught in his throat.
“I would like a word with the President,” the urgency in his voice conveyed his intent to see the President through any means necessary. No, was definitely not an option.
Special Agent Penn felt a slight moment of trepidation as his fist hovered over the dark red stained cherry door, but after a couple seconds of hesitation he swallowed his fear and rapped on the door. It felt like an eon had passed before he heard the lock being twisted and the door pulled open. Standing in the threshold was a shirtless President – wearing only a pair of straight legged sweat pants; sweat glistened on his chiseled body like he had been strenuously exercising; yet his body betrayed no fatigue.
Lex stood there in silence, with one hand still clasped onto the door, letting his presence demand an answer.
Agent Penn suddenly wished he were on duty somewhere in China. “You have a visitor, sir.”
“I pray for the sake of your job, Agent Penn, that this unexpected visitor had better be worth the interruption that I had strictly left orders forbidden.” Luthor was clearly aggravated.
“It’s Superman, Mister President. Here’s here to speak with you.”
The President raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Superman?”
“Yes, sir. His credentials were thoroughly checked and they cleared the United Nations, the Justice League Watchtower and the DEO. The JL Identification Card was authentic.”
“Very well, let him in. Alone.”
“Sir?” the Agent asked confused.
President Luthor smiled, but his steel tone and hard green eyes betrayed his seething anger at having his orders questioned. “Agent Penn. This is Superman. One would assume that I would be safer in his presence than with any, or all, of the Special Agents packed in the White House. Let him in. Alone.”
Agent Penn swallowed, and then nodded. “Yes, sir. Very well, Mister President.”
Lex moved away from the door into his living room as Superman stepped away from the half-dozen Agents that escorted him to the end of the hallway and swiftly made his way into the Presidents suite. Superman pushed the doors closed without being asked.
“So, Superman, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?” Luthor asked as he grabbed a dark blue silk robe off the back of a chair and slid it on over his exposed torso.
Superman took a moment to observe Luthor’s Presidential suite. It was dark, cold and uninviting, done intentionally to keep any guests out of their comfort zone, though Superman would never openly admit that on some basic level it had its desired affect even on him. He also confirmed his suspicion that the entire room was surrounded by lead. His gaze shifted – and was completely caught off guard as he peered into the bedroom, his response stalled in his throat. The giant bed was clearly visible from his standpoint and occupied by the equally glistening naked bodies of Lex’s bodyguards. Mercy and Hope lay – spent – twisted in sweat soaked red satin sheets. They didn’t make any moves to cover themselves at Superman’s sight.
Lex strode over to the bedrooms threshold and closed the door. “I trust you do have a good reason other than to observe my private cardiovascular exercises.”
The retort was like a whip to Superman’s mind snapping his attention back. “Zod.”
“I see.” The President moved over to his liquor chest and poured a single malt Scotch imported from the Lowlands of Scotland. He didn’t bother offering Superman a glass, how could an alien appreciate the finer things in human life? “Before I continue would I be safe in assuming – since you are here and all – that you either know or suspect? I would hate to waste more words than I need on you.”
“It would be wise to assume that I know your involvement.”
“Clearly.” The amber liquid flowed with an uncanny smoothness down his tongue, burning it with its spicy bite before being swallowed, leaving a comfortable warm trail from his throat to stomach. Lex’s lips smacked in satisfaction before he finally replied. “We were toying around with some Apokoliptian technology we acquired from the SCU after their raid of an Intergang warehouse. Among them was a Kryptonian piece. I don’t know how they came into possession of that piece, but you could imagine my surprise to have discovered it.”
Lex’s eyes sparkled in excitement as he recalled the story. He missed the thrill of pure scientific exploration, but what he was doing now was far more important for the future of mankind. “It took my top scientists years of research just to figure out a way to convert our power into an acceptable source to juice the crystals that operated it. I was new to the crystal technology that your world used so there was some trial and error involved.”
“But you eventually got the Projector powered,” Superman pressed, growing impatient.
Lex smirked, like he would have settled for anything less. “Of course I did. It was only a matter of time. We got it powered to roughly half of its capacity. I didn’t want to push it without knowing what it really did. Though the readings we got off of it were amazing. In fact we had to design new sensors and equipment just to detect and analyze what we knew was there and just couldn’t see. Even at half capacity we could detect the vibrations in the nothingness that exists between universes. I wouldn’t be surprised if the General could also feel us in that phantom space he was trapped in.”
“A couple weeks later the Projector experienced a surge in power. It was tapping the energies of the Phantom Zone to reach full power. I tried to shut it down, but it was already too late. The connection between them was too strong. Then it just turned on and like he tore himself free General Zod appeared in the lab and the Projector was fried and useless.” Luthor took another sip of his drink. “The General didn’t stay very long before he managed to disappear from my building. I found Zod to be a very intelligent, resourceful person and I’m sure LexCorps security was, to him, primitive enough to circumvent as his body didn’t have a chance to assimilate the yellow sunlight to gain the brute strength necessary to just break his way out.”
Superman remained silent for a short bit, his mind having no choice but to recall his previous encounter with another General Zod from a universe long dead. He did not wish to have to repeat those actions again. “So he remained underground all these years, strategizing and growing his strength for what? What does Pokolistan and playing nice with the world gain him?”
“That I cannot answer.” Lex replied.
“Then maybe you can answer how your involvement with Zod ties into Ross’s assassination attempt?” the Kryptonian fired back.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to bring that up. Why do you naturally assume that I had anything to do with that heinous act of treason?”
“The total lack of fear.”
“Fear?” Lex chuckled and gestured grandly, the Scotch sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the glass. “What is there for me to fear?”
Superman smiled slyly. “Even when it has nothing to do with you I find it interesting how you manage to bring it back to yourself. Is there something on your conscious you feel guilty about that you wish to confess?”
Luthor’s emerald eyes shrank to slits and his voice grew cold. “I’m sure if one looked hard enough they’ll find plenty of stains on my soul. Though, I’m certain the same could be said for you. With that said, what is your point?”
“Metallo attacked the Vice Presidents convoy in plain sight. He didn’t even attempt to mask his involvement or hide his crime. My point is that nobody is that stupid to openly attack your interests without fear of retribution, yet Metallo remains at large and, oddly enough, un-punished.” Superman returned Lex’s cold stare. “With your determination and resources I find it hard to believe that you would be so petty as to simply ignore his attack for the sake of a little late-night fun.”
It took considerable restraint on Luthor’s part to not smash his Scotch filled glass against Superman’s face. Instead he just focused his energies on not crushing it within his grip. “Believe what you want too, alien. I don’t need you telling me how I run my affairs, nor does your opinion carry much weight with me. Now, if you are through here then I would kindly offer to leave.”
“You’re making a mistake by messing with forces you can’t possibly control.” Superman warned.
“We shall see, Superman, as the American public will ultimately determine who is right and wrong. So, you don’t have to convince me, just convince them.”
Superman’s blue eyes may have looked like ice, but behind them he burned. Without further word he exited President Luthor’s suite. Lex smiled at the door as it closed, then he set his drink down and pulled his robe open. “Now, ladies, where were we?”
Bakerline, Metropolis
A blue ‘07 Mustang pulled up in front of a beige two-story house in the Metropolis suburb. The passenger side door swung open and a white sneaker dropped to the pavement. Jimmy Olsen looked over at the brunette driver and smiled. “Thanks for the lift, Megan. I wish the night ended a little better than it did.”
The attractive girl simply nodded her head. “Yeah, well, good luck with your car, Turtle Boy. Tell Alice that the next -” the annoying beat of Gwen Stefani’s ‘Hollaback Girl’ blasted loudly from Megan’s purse. She reached in and pulled out her cell phone. “Hey, Jill…Yeah, it sucked. I was told he was an actor, but he was that stupid Giant Turtle for that pizza place.” She motioned for Jimmy to exit the car. He stepped out and closed the door, but he could still hear the conversation through the open window. “Yeah, I really need to get laid tonight.” then the Mustang pulled away.
Jimmy sighed and shook his head. “You’d think that knowing Superman personally would mean something today. I mean, we’re basically pals.” He looked up at the house and slowly sauntered up the walkway and up the porch to the door. With a hesitation he knocked on the door.
A minute later the door swung open and a teenage black kid stood in the threshold. “Hey, Jimmy!” he turned his head around and yelled. “Ma, Jimmy’s here!”
“Hey, Keith, what’s up?” Jimmy asked as he stepped inside.
Keith shrugged. “Not much, just playin’ some Tekken.”
Alice White walked into the living room, drying her hands off with a towel after having washed the dishes from dinner. “Jimmy, please have some pie. Tell me how your date went tonight.”
Olsen rolled his eyes. “It went lousy. And just when I thought I was out, some guy backed into my car in the parking lot and totaled it. So I had to get Megan to drop me off.”
Perry strolled down the stairs and paused at the sight of his photographer. “Olsen? When did you get here? I didn’t see your car outside?”
Jimmy rolled his eyes and sighed. “It’s a long story, Chief.”
In the eyes of those that worked at the Daily Planet, Perry White was about as hard-nosed and no-nonsense as they came. Even those that were the closest with the Editor-In-Chief of the newspaper knew enough to not step on his toes. His work personality changed little in the time since his battle with lung cancer that nearly took his life, but his personal life changed greatly since the loss of his son Jerry. Even though Jerry turned out to not be his own flesh-and-blood he still took the death dreadfully hard.
That’s where Keith Robert came in. Perry wasn’t finished being a father yet, and Alice was becoming more and more of a wreck as time went on. There was something missing from their lives, creating a giant black hole that couldn’t be filled…until Keith showed up. Keith’s mother died from AIDS and that left him alone in an orphanage. He needed a family and so did the White’s. There certainly was a period of adjustment, but once they got passed that things began to return to some sort of state of normalcy.
Perry slapped a hand on Jimmy’s back. “Well, tell me all about it over some cigars out back. Alice, wanna grab us a couple slices of your apple pie?”
Alice scowled at her husband, who felt her husband hadn’t learned his lesson before with the cigars, but she knew better to challenge him on it and she went off to grab the pies.
Jimmy Olsen, in a lot of ways, helped fill a void too by becoming the unofficial son of the White’s and even a big brother to Keith. “Yeah, sure, that’d be great.” He replied with a smile.
CLANG!
CLANG!
BOOM!
Superman threw two quick punches that broke the sonic barrier and landed so hard on the enhanced titanium-alloy skull that his knuckles almost bruised upon impact. Metallo’s neck couplings strained to keep his head attached to his torso as incredible forces worked to separate both. The cyborg tried to bring his arms up to block the unrelenting supersonic assault, but Superman simply swatted them away as his other fist slammed dead center in the machine’s chest thrusting Metallo clean off his feet and into the air. The gleaming metal body sprayed a shower of sparks off the pavement as it slid easily about eighty feet – tearing up chunks of pavement along its path – until his metal fingers dug into the blacktop and halted his body’s progress.
The activity in the streets of downtown Richmond were brought to a grinding halt and was now a commotion of people running away from the battle, through those that stood and watched in awe as these two titans slugged it out oblivious to preserving their well-being. Others watched in wonder through the windows of the high-rise buildings that lined the street, getting a birds eye view of the pandemonium below.
Superman’s fist clenched. “How did you escape from Strykers? Who helped you?”
Self-repair routine activated. Estimated repair time: 2 minutes, 49 seconds. The cyborg slowly rose to his feet and if Metallo had lips he’d smile, but that was a motion John Corbin had surrendered experiencing again when he was placed inside this body. [You haven’t learned by now? Money goes a long way, Boy Scout.]
The right forearm of Metallo’s arm began to morph as metal plates shifted and steel cables swarmed like worms until a giant gun replaced the whole forearm. The cyborg raised the humongous weapon and leveled it onto the ‘S’ shield with deadly accuracy from his targeting system. [The question is: What are you going to do about it?] Metallo taunted as he fired off a blistering round of depleted uranium shells at the Man of Steel, like the Vulcan machine gun on an Apache Attack Helicopter.
VRMMMMMMMM!
Knowing that pieces of Metallo’s kryptonite heart could potentially be inside the shells damned Superman. He could easily have dodged the hailstorm of bullets, but that would have doomed the safety of those mesmerized bystanders behind him. Instead, he set his jaw and his eyes flashed a brilliant red that could have dulled the sun before letting free a fiery blast of heat vision that scorched the air to a sweltering 2070°F in an attempt to melt the shells before they got near him, but they were traveling way too fast. They pierced the suffocating heat, forcing Superman to quickly deflect the bullets away from him and re-direct them into harmless objects, but the few that made it passed even his amazing reflexes pounded on his skin, the kryptonite chunks slowly weakening him until one shell completely blew through his shoulder sending him down to one knee in immense pain.
Metallo pounced on Superman and he dug a silver thumb deep into the fresh wound, then head-butted Superman square on the nose, forcing the Man of Steel to see stars. Superman took a deep breath, his lungs condensing the air before releasing it into a super cold vapor that crystallized over Metallo’s face. Superman pushed Metallo away as the cyborg clawed at the inches of ice that blocked his sight. The Man of Steel swung his hands back, then brought them together with tremendous force; the resulting shockwave tossed Metallo and nearby debris end over end, while blowing out windows everywhere for roughly a quarter-mile around.
The metal fingers tore the last of the ice chunks away just in time for Metallo to see the bottom of a black 2004 Monte Carlo descend rapidly upon him. The car shook the ground, stumbling some of the bystanders around as they shielded their faces from the explosion upon impact. The orange flames danced harmlessly around Superman’s impervious fingers before pulling away, cradling his shoulder wound that throbbed from stress.
Inside the inferno the Monte Carlo’s metal frame twisted and screamed in protest of being mangled as Metallo tore himself free from the wreckage. [You’re playing dirty, Boy Scout. I like it! I haven’t enjoyed myself like this in years!] Metallo’s computerized voice vocalized the joy the criminal took in the fight.
“Did you enjoy yourself when you tried to kill the Vice President?!” Superman asked as he slammed a light pole, that used to be solidly affixed to the sidewalk leaving a sparking mess of wires in its place, against the metal skull of his foe.
Damage assessment approximately 42%. Estimated repair time: 74 minutes, 23 seconds. Metallo righted himself, his vision crackled before clearing the static. [From one Man of Steel to another, it’s always fun toying with these normal people. Like stepping on ants.]
It had been a long time since Metallo had felt fear. As a near immortal that suffered no pain there was little in this world John Corbin needed to fear. The sudden look of rage in Superman’s eyes reminded the cyborg what the meaning of fear was. He tried to take a step away from the Kryptonian, but it was a futile gesture because if he could have taken a mile step it still wouldn’t have been far enough away.
Superman had Metallo’s transformed forearm and his neck coupling held in his vice like grips in an instant, far faster than Corbin’s mechanical reflexes could react. “You’ve been this machine for so long that I think you’ve forgotten just what mortality means,” Superman pulled at Metallo’s right arm and tore it free from his torso. Blue electricity crackled and danced around the metallic endoskeleton. “Your brain is the only human part on you. I could pull you apart like an ant if I so wished.”
Metallo’s remaining hand pulled at Superman’s grip, but it was like trying to tow a freight train with dental floss. Damage assessment approximately 64%. Estimated repair time: 4 hours, 46 minutes, 35 seconds. His eyes scanned the unwavering alien that held him off his feet, and Corbin could already see the mending flesh and tendons in his wounded shoulder. Calculated chances of victory: 23%.
[Stop! I’ll surrender! Just stop pulling me apart!] Metallo pleaded.
“How did you escape? Who let you out?” Superman pressed.
[I don’t know. I wasn’t powered at the moment I was taken out of my cell in Strykers and when I was re-awaked I was already in D.C. with instructions and a reward downloaded into my brain.]
There weren’t any of the telltale signs in Metallo’s features that Superman could detect like in a regular human if he were lying. Somehow, Superman still felt the urge to believe the criminal. He felt disgusted. “You’re going back to prison,” his grip tightened on the neck coupling. “Power yourself down.”
Pokolistan
The castle shook violently under the assault. The cries of fury and agony echoed in the stone and mortar halls of the ancient structure. Whoever the fool was that dared this attack was a powerful foe, but General Zod hovered serenely off the floor with a slight grin on his face as he patiently waited to teach this fool a lesson for their imprudence. Zod had to admit, however, a grudging respect at the courage displayed for this futile attempt. Certainly this person knew that they would be greeted with instant merciful death for their time.
The grin pulled wider at his lips mere moments before the giant wooden doors that separated his throne room exploded into a shower of splinters. Zod’s eyes never flinched as the wooden splinters bounced harmlessly off his body and shredded the mortal human guards around him. Part of him wondered at the intelligence of employing these inferiors as bodyguards when little on this planet could harm him as he watched them, without emotion, writhing on the floor in pain.
Through the door walked a tall redheaded woman wearing a ridiculous green and yellow costume that barely covered her body. Zod tilted his head to the side in approval and took note of the regal manner in how this woman carried herself. Maybe he won’t just kill her immediately after-all.
From the floor beneath Zod another woman entered the room, this one was semi-transparent until she fully passed though the floor. “I don’t know who you are, but you will not leave here alive,” Faora warned…before getting blown apart broken down to her basic matter like a crystal vase getting shattered into dust against the wall by vast psionic powers.
General Zod held up a hand, halting the progress of the woman. “You have amused me, for that I shall let you live long enough to state your reason for your trespass.”
“My name is Maxima, eldest child of the Royal family of Almerac,” the woman stated, ignoring the slowly growing pieces that began to reform Faora. “I came to this world years ago in search for the perfect mate so I could raise a new heir to my world. The hero Superman has spurned my advances, spat upon my traditions and the honor of being my mate. We are genetically compatible and our union would have bred us a being of incredible power.”
General Dru-Zod raised an eyebrow. He was growing bored. “This has what to do with me?”
“You are Kryptonian, are you not?” Maxima asked.
“I am.”
Maxima smiled and advanced to Zod, floating off of the ground until she was eye level with the dictator. “I wish to extend my offer to you. Be my mate; give me a child of genetic superiority. If you agree then I shall become your queen.”
Zod’s interest was instantly piqued. “My dear Maxima. You have a deal.”
Faora seethed.
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The End...
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