Clark and Chloe had been waiting in silence in the darkened cellar. They could hear the cars rumble into the yard and then everything became quiet. Whitney lay on the floor in a heap, still unconscious. Chloe squatted nervously on the ground, chewing her lip quietly. Clark stood staring upwards, watching everything unfold with his x-ray vision. It was hard to tell what was going on though. He could hear the sounds from the yard easily, even in the cellar, but no one was speaking now. Picking out people was almost impossible as well. He could spot Tina easily enough, the green glow from her body marking her no matter what she looked like, but everyone else was just a random skeleton. The only thing he could tell was that there were a lot of soldiers up there. A lot of them.

“What’s going on?” Chloe whispered to him. He glanced away and shook his head. “Can’t you tell?” she asked, but he turned away, hearing someone say something. It hadn’t sounded like Tina, but the voice had still been familiar. “What is it?” Chloe asked again, but he hushed her with a quick wave of his hand. “I can’t stand this,” she muttered to herself quietly.

“Be quiet,” he hissed at her, looking away. “I can’t hear anything if you’re-“ and suddenly they could both hear the unmistakable sound of a shot being fired from outside. Chloe was up in a flash, standing next to him, as he spun around, staring through the walls and ceiling to see what was going on. Tina was down, lying prone at the feet of two other figures. For a moment, he feared the worst, but then he saw her move slightly, alive, but clearly injured.

“What happened?” Chloe asked into his ear, her voice no more than a whisper. “Did they…”

“They shot her,” he said grimly, “but she’s still alive. Something must have gone wrong.”

“Gee, what tipped you off?” she asked, her voice strained.

He ignored her and stared around, trying to think. There was no way they could just leave her out there. He looked outside again and then turned around, staring around the farm, searching for an idea. “You have to stay here,” he said finally. “I’m going out.”

“To do what? Get shot too?”

“It’s my fault she’s out there,” he snapped at her. “You guys came for me; I led you all into this.” He reached up and started to push against the trapdoor.

“We chose to come after you,” she said, grabbing his arm. “We knew what might happen. And remember what Whitney said? You’re too important to lose. Don’t do this,” she pleaded with him.

“Yeah, well, he also said he’d be the one out there and look how that turned out,” Clark said, turning away from her. “This is my home, I should’ve been the one out there,” he muttered angrily. He opened the trapdoor a bit and got ready to pull himself up.

“Clark, if you go out there, I’m coming after you,” Chloe said firmly, making him stop. He blinked and stared at her, letting the trapdoor fall shut. She stood there resolutely, daring him.

“I thought you were against being the martyr,” he said quietly. She shrugged and lifted her chin. “I can’t protect you out there.”

“Don’t need it,” she shrugged. “I know how to take care of myself.”

“Not against them,” he said. “Chloe, I can’t leave her out there, and you’ll just get in my way if you come after me.” She didn’t move. He stared upwards, looking through the boards again. “Chloe, we don’t have time for this, stay here!”

“No,” she said. “If you go out there I’m coming after you.” He stared at her for a long moment and then shook his head, his breath whistling out in irritation.

“Fine, but for God’s sake, stay out of sight.” She blinked and then nodded quickly, going a little pale. He pointed to Whitney, still unconscious on the floor. “What about Whitney?”

“He’ll be safe in here,” she told him, glancing back at Whitney. Clark looked at her sadly and pushed open the trapdoor, moving as fast as possible. The rest of the world seemed to be moving by at a snail’s pace as he leapt out of the cellar and landed lightly on the barn floor. He slammed the trapdoor shut and replaced the boards so that it was hidden again. Then for good measure, he pulled a heavy crate of tools over on top of the door. It would take her only a few seconds to notice that he was gone, but it would already be too late.

“Sorry, Chloe,” he muttered. Then he glanced up and sped outside, circling around the farm buildings. Even moving this quickly, he tried to keep himself out of sight of the massed troops. He paused behind an old cow shed and watched them through the slats.

He said a thankful prayer as he saw Tina was still alive. She was surrounded by troops though, and they all appeared to be carrying the same time of meteor rock powered guns. He hesitated, thinking quickly. There were too many to risk just charging in. He could grab Tina, but he’d never be able to pick-up Chloe and Whitney without being discovered. He’d have to watch and wait for an opportunity.

“I’m growing impatient, Lana,” Lionel growled. He chewed on fist, staring at the man lying wounded on the ground. “If you can’t find out anything, then we can take him back to the labs to perform a more thorough interrogation.” Lana looked up and nodded quickly.

“We’re almost there, sir,” she promised. “I can do this, I just need a little more time.” He grunted irritably, but signaled for her to continue. She turned around and bent down over the wounded man. He flinched away from her, but she quickly grabbed his shoulder and pressed her thumb down hard on it. He stiffened suddenly, biting off a cry of pain. Thunder rumbled quietly from the massing clouds overhead. It was rapidly getting darker over the farm. She moved her thumb around grimly, trying to ignore his agony.

“Just tell us who you are and the pain will stop,” she told him quietly. Tightening her grip a bit more, she went on, “It’s useless to hold off like this. We’ll find out everything eventually.” The man’s lips were trembling, pressed together tightly against the pain. She slackened her grip and waited, studying him. He lay back, pale and panting heavily. Sweat was streaming down his face in rivets. Even now, she was struck by how closely he resembled Mr. Luthor.

“How did you manage that?” she asked. “At first, I thought it was some kind of mask or make-up, but it’s not. Was it surgery?” He didn’t answer and she reached over, tugging his face up. The look in his eyes was pure murder.

“I am… Lionel Luthor,” he coughed out. “This is my-“

“At first, I thought this was flattering, but now it’s just getting ridiculous,” Lionel exploded behind her. He stormed over to them and roughly pushed Lana aside. Grabbing the lapels of the other man’s suit, he pulled him up bodily. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “This farm; this house; its all my property. Were you looking for something? What?”

Lana stared up at him from where she had fallen, too shocked to move. “Sir…”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“It’s not yours,” the other man grimaced.

The fury left Lionel’s face like it had been swept away. “What did you say?” he asked. The other man didn’t answer. A muscle began to twitch rhythmically in Lionel’s jaw as he stared at him. Then he dropped the man roughly and backed away.

“Lana,” he said, “hand me your gun, please.” She blinked and then hurriedly placed it in his outstretched hand. He leveled smoothly at the other man and waited. The wounded man pulled himself up to his knees, his head a foot from the barrel. Thunder rumbled again from overhead. “For the last time, what do you mean?”

“It’s his,” the man said quietly. He cradled his shoulder with one hand and stared up at them. Then before their startled eyes, the man started to change. His features flowed around, changing shape and texture. Lana could only stare as his red hair writhed and started to grow longer and darker. His body contracted, growing smaller and thinner. Then it was done, and the man was no longer there, in his place was a young girl. She had long dark hair with an angular face, and looked to be no older than Lana. The tailored suit was gone as well; in its place she seemed to be wearing a formless black cloth that was molded to her skin. Then Lana noticed that while one of her shoulders was covered by the cloth, the other, the wounded one was not. Amazed, she watched the black cloth flow up the girl’s arm, trying to cover the wound, but then fall back around it, leaving her shoulder exposed. The girl flinched as it did so, staring at them.

“What are you?” Lana asked, horrified.

“Just a victim,” the girl snarled, her face looking haggard. Her entire shoulder was red and swollen now. She swayed a little, breathing heavily.

“Very… interesting,” Lionel said quietly, pausing for a moment. He still had the gun trained on her. “Well, it does answer one question; it seems we missed one at least. If I cared enough, I’d ask if there are any more of you out there, but right now, I only want to know one thing. What did you mean before? Who were you talking about?”

The girl smiled grimly at him, but said nothing. Lionel waited, his lip twitching wildly. “Fine,” he snarled. He readied the gun, his fingers tightening on the grip. The girl closed her eyes, tears spilling out them as she waited for the blast. Thunder rippled again across the sky. Lana’s eyes went from the girl to Lionel and then back again. The seconds ticked by, but no shot came. Finally, the girl opened her eyes, looking up at him.

The gun was slack in Lionel’s hands. He stared up at the vacant house, his mouth half open and his face as white as a ghost. “It’s not possible,” he whispered. Lana could only stare at him. “No, it’s not possible. He can’t know…”

“Sir?” she asked, stepping towards him. He didn’t seem to hear her at all, his entire being seemed centered on the house. “Sir?” she asked again, touching his arm. “What’s the matter?”

He jerked roughly under her touch, his head whipping towards her. He blinked, almost not seeing her and then broke into a run, straight towards the house. “Sir!” she yelled after him. He kept going, running up the path and climbing over the broken down porch. He yanked open the door roughly and disappeared inside the house. Some of her men stared after him and then looked to her, uncertain. A few of them started to follow after Lionel towards the house. “Stay where you are,” she barked at them.

They stopped short, not a few of them staring incredulously at her. “You want us to leave him in there?” one of them protested.

“Standing orders, Beel,” she said, recognizing him. “No one but Mr. Luthor or myself goes in there. Fall in now, hurry.”

Beel raised his eyebrows and she waited, watching him carefully. He was one of the older men under her command, with more years experience than she’d been alive. She knew her being put in command of the Corps had caused a few protests and resignations, but regardless of that, she was in command. Since her promotions, she’d worked tirelessly to prove herself to the doubtful troops, and in that time, most of them had come to accept her. Still, she needed instant obedience from her men or that authority she’d worked so hard to cultivate would fall apart.

“Did you not hear me, Lieutenant?” she stressed, hating him for putting her in this situation. They didn’t have time for this sort of thing, but he’d forced her. Beel frowned and then nodded to the rest of the men around him. A few of the soldiers looked conflicted, staring between her and the house, but they followed him over to her.

“Ma’am,” one of them said as they jogged over. She curled her lips slightly and turned away, surveying the rest of her men. Not a few of them gave the girl on the ground a wide berth. They shifted their guns in their hands, and she was almost pleased to see that they looked just as worried as she did.

“I want two squads on a roving patrol around the area,” she began quickly. Pointing to a young looking soldier, she nodded at him. “Codel, take the outer perimeter. Sweep the fields to the forest and keep in contact. Beel, you’ve got the farm. Be careful, we don’t know what the situation is, but something’s definitely wrong here.” He nodded quickly and almost involuntarily glanced up at the house. “Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I’ll be heading in after him.”

Turning back to the girl, Lana stared down at her, and then pulled out her other gun from a side holster. It wasn’t an M-model, powered by the meteor rocks, but it was .50 caliber, gun enough to handle almost anything. She cocked it audibly and stared at the girl, feeling that familiar red hate bubble up through her suddenly. The girl panted, staring at the ground. “If anything happens to him in there…,” she warned, grinding her teeth.

“I hope something does,” she mumbled back, her eyes fluttering back. Lana snarled back at her and smashed her across the back of her head with the butt of the gun. The girl collapsed in a heap with a groan. She lay on the ground, coughing in the dirt, still conscious.

“Leave ten men here to guard her,” Lana told them firmly. “If she starts moving, don’t hesitate to fire. The lab might want to study her, but they can do that just as well on an autopsy table.” She scanned their faces for fear, but found none. They were all hardened troops, hand-picked from freelance groups or ex-military. They were literally the best money could buy, and carried the latest in equipment. There was nothing on this world they couldn’t handle.

Which was exactly the problem, she thought to herself suddenly.

Thunder rolled overhead again, sending a shiver down her spine. The run down farm buildings and broken machinery looked even more foreboding under the darkening sky. Even worse was that cold feeling in her gut, the kind she had been trained to recognize. It meant someone was watching her. “I hate this place,” she muttered out loud. “We should have burned it out a long time ago.”

Pushing her fears away, she glanced around and signaled for them to move out quickly. They hurried off, forming up into search teams and dispersing over the farm. “Keep in constant communication,” she shouted out. “If you find something, I want everyone to know about it.” Then she turned to the house and steeled herself. “Here goes everything,” she muttered quietly and began to jog up towards it.

She’d been to the farm twice before, but had never come more than fifty paces near the house. That was hardly surprising in itself, Lex had never even been here, and perhaps he didn’t even know it existed. The other troops that accompanied them never knew the place was any different from the countless other homes Lionel owned. It wasn’t listed on any tax forms, and anyone investigating the ownership would’ve had to unravel a paper trail more than a mile long. Driving by it, if you could get that close, past all the hidden surveillance and purposely-confusing signs and roads, you’d never know there was anything different about it.

Even Lana didn’t know why Lionel was so secretive about this place. She’d rather have just forgotten it had ever existed. Something about the place always chilled her, leaving her edgy for days afterwards. It wasn’t that it was abandoned, she’d seen enough of that in her lifetime, but rather it felt worse. It always felt to her like the farm had been spoiled, ruined. Like it had could’ve been a place of beauty, but something had destroyed that and left it to waste away instead.

She cleared the ruined front stoop in one leap and pulled herself up onto the doorframe. Dried paint flaked off the wood as she gripped the sides of the door, peering in nervously. The air inside smelt dank and stale, and there didn’t seem to be much light to see by. “Sir?” she called out, hesitating. “Mr. Luthor!” There was no answer. Swallowing, she let go of the door and stepped further in.

Past the doorway, she came to the ruins of a kitchen and what looked like a family room at the other end of the house. The floor was covered with dead leaves and bits of plaster and wood from the walls. It looked like some animal had made a nest in one of the cabinets, but it was abandoned now. A sudden draft blew through the house, sending the leaves on the floor skittering against the sides of the walls. Lana jumped a little, but she controlled herself. Tightening her grip on her gun, she continued through the house, her senses like razors.

Her eyes caught sight of something in the living room that made her stop for a second. There was an old battered picture frame lying on the floor. The glass covering was smashed in, but the picture was there, a little faded and water-damaged, but some details could be made out. It was of a man and a woman, standing close together and smiling. They were clearly a couple, or married. The man was young, probably only in his late twenties, but looked at least ten years older. He had a simple, honest, attractive face. The woman-

A sudden noise above her made Lana jump in surprise. A bit of plaster rained down on her shoulder from the ceiling and she heard the ceiling beams creak. Readying her gun, she waited, staring upwards. She stayed that way for almost a minute, all her senses fixed above her. Finally, she eased off on the gun and lowered it. She looked up for another moment and then bent back down to the picture.

The woman had long, red hair and a sweet face. She seemed young, younger than the man, but more confident. Lana stared at if for a moment and then picked up the frame, studying it closer. There was something familiar about the woman, she thought. It was her smile, she realized slowly. Something about the sure, faithful way she was smiling. Her mother had smiled like that, she thought to herself. Even in the bad times, she’d always smiled.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Lionel’s voice came from nowhere. She jumped, spinning around to face him. He stood there quietly, smiling at her, his face a mystery. He looked away from her and patted the walls of the house lovingly. “Weathered, scarred, but you can see the vestiges of true beauty. Time and circumstances have both left their mark, but they could never demean her. Never in a hundred lifetimes.” He smiled and looked back at her. “Lana?” he asked, gesturing at her hands. She looked down and was startled to see that she was aiming the gun straight at him. The trigger was pulled back, a hair’s breadth from firing.

Slowly, she eased back on her grip and let the gun drop to her side. She let go of a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and stared at him. “Sir, we need to get you to safety. Something’s going on here.”

“Yes, I would say that,” he agreed quietly. “He’s been here, perhaps he’s still here.”

“What do you mean? Who?” she asked.

He looked back at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The alien. The second one. He’s here,” he said calmly. “He knows. Find him.”