One Man's Past
By SalemKent
“Smallville” and all related names are registered trademarks of Warner Brothers Pictures, Inc. “Justice League” and all related names are registered trademarks of DC Comics, Inc. This original work of fiction is written solely for non-profit entertainment purposes and Copyright © 2002. All rights reserved.
Clark set down outside the iron gates of the manor. The nearly inaudible buzzing indicated that the gates were electrified to “discourage” intruders. He looked up at the mansion against the dark sky. From here, it looked like a foreboding castle from which a dark king ruled. This wasn’t too far from the truth. Wayne Manor, for all its past glories, had not aged well. Ivy now covered most of its brick edifice. The moon had passed behind a cloud but Clark didn’t need its light to see. He could see regardless of how much light there was. Clark reached to touch a button on the intercom when he heard Bruce Wayne say “Don’t bother, just come on up.” The voice wasn’t through the intercom though; Clark could see Bruce looking at him from the window in his library. Clark lifted off and landed at the doorway as the door opened by itself.
When he walked in the foyer, he was greeted by a large black dog. The dog growled at first, then, when it recognized Clark’s scent, its demeanor changed and it started wagging its tail.
Kneeling, Clark scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Hello, Ace, where’s your master?”
only were there measures to thwart human trespassers, but also weaponry powerful enough to keep him out had Bruce Wayne wanted it that way.
At the bottom of the stairway, it opened up to a large cavern where a series of stairways connected various platforms. On those platforms were large computer banks containing zettabytes (roughly 10 to the 21st power bytes) of information; information which Bruce Wayne could have at the tips of this fingers in nanoseconds through the use of four large CRAY-3 type systems utilizing protein-based processors. Wayne Technologies had only recently taken the lead in developing this type of information processing by successfully designing a hybrid protein material which was resistant to cellular breakdown. Had the scientists a Wayne Tech possessed the base material to study these proteins, they would find they were based on Kryptonian cellular structures; but this was only one of thousands of secrets Bruce would take to his grave. It was the result of the bargain Clark struck with Bruce to help him. Clark had to know and Bruce was the most logical choice to go to for help. The cost to Clark was one strand of hair.
Bruce settled in behind at his workstation which consisted of a bank of sixteen monitors, dual input and output feeds which worked through the chair Bruce sat in. Neural monitors were inserted in the headrest of the chair as well as voice-activated monitors which were located throughout the Batcave. All Bruce had to do was think it or say it and the supercomputer would come to life and provide him with the answer.
“I guess there’s no point in trying to talk you out of this,” Bruce finally said.
“You already know the answer to that.” Clark said solemnly, examining the chamber before him. To a point, the chamber looked like a futuristic phone booth. Square in shape, glass walls supported by alloy structural members. It was only the presence of a large box of circuitry and wires told him differently.
“I thought so but I thought it might be worth a try. You know this may not be necessary. I could go back through the police records of the case again, do some deeper investigation of my own. Who knows? I may come up with an answer this time.”
“Bruce, we’ve been through all this before. You spent nearly two years pouring over those records. You found things that I wasn’t even aware of and, for that, I’m appreciative. But the fact is, without an eyewitness account, there’s no way to prove what happened. And I have to prove it; I have to come back with enough evidence to convict Lex once and for all. As far as I’m concerned, this is one crime he will not get away with.”
“I understand that, Clark. Trust me, if there’s anyone in this world who understands what it means to find out the truth about a killer, it’s me.”
Clark stopped for a second. He did know what Bruce was referring to. His life had been dedicated to the memory of his parents. Everything Bruce Wayne did after the night his parents were murdered was for them and making certain it would never happen again. First, the years of his youth spent training his mind and body in preparation for the task which lie ahead; then, all those years after, using that training in the guise of Batman. Those who knew Bruce Wayne and those who would one day write his biography, may have thought his life-long mission was one of vengeance. But that was where Bruce Wayne was misunderstood. Bruce Wayne was not vengeful; in fact, vengeance was the last thing on his mind. When Bruce Wayne was beginning his training, he first thought he could provide the greatest service by working within the law, as a policeman, lawyer, or judge. It was only after learning the limitations of the law that Bruce Wayne knew he could not carry out his mission in that way. There were those who the law did not apply, untouchable criminals whose status allowed them to operate daily without the fear of reprisal. Bruce Wayne concluded that to reach criminals of this type, he would have to operate outside the law. In the same way that the law did not apply to those criminals, it also could not
apply to him. His mission was not to stop those who simply broke the law; his mission was to provide justice for their victims. A distinct difference, but a difference nonetheless.
“Then, let’s get on with this.” Clark said.
“Alright then,” Bruce said as his aged hands began to dance across a keyboard. “Of course, you know that when it comes to time travel, it is paramount that you not interact with anyone from the past. If this were to happen, you could influence events which are historical fact. Anything you do could result in changing history and alter the world we now live in. For this reason, your molecules will be set at a different vibratory sequence. It will be unsettling for you at first, but it is a necessary evil. Because of our past experiments, we’ve concluded that your Kryptonian physiology will withstand this process where human physiology would not, resulting in advanced cellular decay. Simply put, you will be a little more than a ghost in the past. You will not be seen, or heard, nor will you be able to touch. In this wraithlike form, you will be able to easily pass through walls. However, your powers will be limited. You will have some ability of flight; but your vision powers will not be available to you. Because of the vibratory harmonics, your system will react like it is constantly under attack. But, due to your invulnerability, any cellular decay which will occur will be counteracted. When you return, you will need a time of rest because this will push even your abilities to their limit. If you stay for longer than five days, your system will begin to shut down and you could die.”
“I know all of this, Bruce,” Clark said. “We’ve spent years determining all the safety factors. If it weren’t for Wally’s suggestion about the harmonics, I don’t think you’d allow me to even get near this chamber.”
“You’re right. Trust me, the temptation of going back in time and preventing Joe Chill from murdering my parents has been very great. But then, I realized I couldn’t…” Bruce’s voice trailed off for a moment. Clark knew his friend would give anything to change that one event in
his life, but he also knew that, if that event hadn’t happened, Batman would never have happened. Without Batman, countless others would have died or had their own lives changed forever.
Regaining his composure, Bruce stood up from his seat and walked over to Clark and produced a red boot similar to the ones Clark wore. “Put this on,” he commanded to which Clark complied.
“Just remember,” Bruce said as he sat back down at this workstation, “when you’re ready to come home, just click your heels together three times.”
A wry smile crossed the lips of the Dark Knight. Clark couldn’t help but chuckle at his friend’s sense of humor. “And repeat ‘There’s no place like home’, right?”
But if Bruce heard him, he didn’t acknowledge it, he was already busy typing in computer sequences and programming code far more advanced than any developed by MIT, Microsoft, or even Wayne Technologies. The chamber began to hum, quietly at first, but then building in pitch.
“Step inside,” Bruce said loudly over the humming. “And try not to touch the walls. Once you’re secured inside, I’ll be removing all the air in there, so take a deep breath. I would also suggest closing your eyes. The time travel event produces a very bright light which can possibly damage even your eyes.”
Clark stepped into the chamber and the door closed. He took a deep breath and looked at his friend behind the console. Bruce Wayne stopped what he was doing and looked up. After a moment, he gave Clark a knowing nod of the head which Clark returned likewise. Without a word, these two men who, in their prime, were considered the world’s finest heroes and in their later years, came to know each other as best friends, said a thousand things to each other with just a nod. With that, The End
Clark closed his eyes.
“Beginning countdown sequence,” Bruce said over the intercom. “Five.”
“Four.”
“Removing all atmospheric material.”
A loud whooshing noise as Clark felt a sudden breeze of air being pulled up and out of the chamber.
“Two.”
“One.”
“Begin time trav-”
But Clark didn’t hear Bruce finish his sentence. Even through his closed eyes, he could register the intense light. At the same instant, it felt as if the floor dropped out beneath him. A feeling of vertigo suddenly came over him. It was only when he stepped back to steady himself, did Clark realize that his boots were no longer on the smooth metallic surface of the chamber. Instead, he felt the rough stone floor of the cave.
Slowly, Clark started to feel the pins and needles tingling that one feels when their foot falls asleep. Only in this case, it started at his feet and hands and began working its way up his arms and legs. It wasn’t painful really; it was more of a sensation. Then, Clark opened his eyes. The world was pitch black.
“Am I blind?” Clark thought. “No, my eyes are adjusting now, there’s a little light. I’m still in the Batcave. I wonder if Bruce knew this was where I would arrive. It makes sense, but still, I’d better make certain I’m away from any future buildings when I return. I wouldn’t want to wind up in the middle of a wall or something. ”
Looking up, Clark could see a small opening in the roof of the cavern. Suddenly, as if his thoughts had done it, bats seemed to be flying from everywhere. Clark looked down just as a bat emerged from the center of his S shield. It had passed right through him. “Well, that part is correct.” He looked at the light above again. The bats were flying out of it. With a great deal of concentration, he slowly lifted off and followed.
Outside, Clark looked back at the hole. It wasn’t much bigger than a manhole. Looking around as he drifted higher, he could see Wayne Manor a few acres away. It wasn’t the same as it was when he arrived. The ivy was cut back and the surrounding shrubbery was delicately manicured. As he approached the huge mansion, he looked down and saw Bruce Wayne’s trusted man-servant, Alfred Pennyworth, tending a rose garden. He was thirty years younger than the last time Clark had last seen him, just prior to his death.
Looking toward the western horizon, Clark began the slow flight to Smallville. Along the way, he tested his hearing by listening in on television and radio broadcasts. This also confirmed that he was forty years in his past. Clark Kent of this era would just be coming to the decision to dedicate his life to the sanctity and preservation of life. The Clark Kent of this era was a young innocent only days away from decisive events which would change the course of human history forever.
* * * *
Clark Kent jumped of the back porch of his parents farmhouse and ran out to the barn, Pete Ross following close behind.
“C’mon, Pete, you’re not going to believe what I’ve got to show you,” Clark yelled over his shoulder.
“Wait up!” Pete yelled back.
Pete Ross had come to visit Smallville after being away for the last
semester. It was hard for Pete to go, but Clark understood his reasons. It was important that he get back to a normal life; a life where his life wasn’t in danger just because of who his friends were. It seemed like an eternity since Clark had told him his secret. And, as far as Pete knew, he was the only one who really knew.
Clark was already in the loft of the barn and crouched over his telescope by the time Pete ran in the door. As Pete caught his breath, he climbed the stairs. It was just dusk and the stars were already beginning to show in the reddish-purple sky.
Clark made a few adjustments to his telescope and then stepped away. “Here, look at this,” he said.
Pete looked through the telescope and was amazed. He saw a number of meteors floating around. They varied in size and were very ominous looking. “Wow! That’s really incredible, Clark.”
No answer.
“Clark?” Pete looked up from the telescope. “Clark, where’d you…” but Pete stopped short. He looked across the loft at his friend. He was no longer in the familiar red flannel shirt and jeans he usually wore. Instead, Clark was wearing a tight fitting blue costume with a red cape, boots, and trunks. Emblazoned on his chest was the stylized red and yellow S symbol Pete had seen before in the mysterious cave. Somehow, Clark didn’t look like Clark anymore. Instead, he looked taller, more handsome and confident; like he had been transformed into a powerful hero ready to take on the world.
“What? How…” Pete stammered.
“It’s okay, Pete.” Clark said. Even his voice had changed; it was deeper than his usual soft spoken voice. And when Clark said it would be okay, Pete just knew it would be. The power in his voice just made it that way. Suddenly, everything that Pete knew and sometimes feared in his
friend, the powers, the alien heritage, all of it, seemed to fall into place like this was what his friend was always meant to be.
“Some things have changed since you’ve been away, Pete. I’ve started getting even more powerful than I was before. I don’t just have the ability to jump twenty feet high, I can fly. My senses have increased as well. I can see things that you can’t imagine. And best of all, I can control it better than I did before.”
“Yeah; but, why the costume?” Pete finally asked.
“That was my parent’s idea. They said that if I going to be using my powers for the greater good, then I’m going to need a way to get away from it. I can’t be saving people twenty-four hours a day. Even I need to rest every now and then. To do that, my parents and I decided I needed to create a symbol. A way for people to identify this person I’ve become and not think of me as just plain Clark Kent. So, with the help of Mom’s sewing, we came up with this uniform. Dad and I decided on this symbol on my chest. I know it’s a lot like the symbols we saw in the cave; but I think this particular one may somehow be linked to me in some way. It’s like some sort of family crest or something. Studying the data gathered by Lionel Luthor’s scientists and Dr. Swann, I was able to piece together more and more about my past and where I really come from. Dr. Swann’s notes were really helpful. The planet I’m from was called Krypton. His translations have helped me understand what life on Krypton was like and, I think, why my father sent me here. Because someone from Krypton has this weird physiology, when they come to Earth, they get all these incredible powers. My contact with my birth-father, Jor-el, has confirmed most that for me. ”
Pete started walking around Clark, admiring his friend’s new look. “I don’t know what to say. It’s like you’re not the Clark I grew up with anymore. You seem different in that get up. Like some sort of…of…I don’t know,” suddenly, Pete stopped. “I got it! You remind me of the grand master for the Smallville Harvest Parade!”