Kryptonite Cold #1 Cold Revenge

Chapter One

Clark found himself almost completely frozen. His lips were frosty and hardened together, his tied up hands frozen and stung every time he tried to move them. It was so cold where he was, even with the infinitesimal amount of warmth his jacket was giving off, it hardly felt like he was even wearing it.

His neck cramped as he tried to reposition himself, so he could be more comfortable, but every time he tried and moved even a few inches from the pole he was bound too, the tape keeping his head in place, only pulled on his hair and skin. If it hadn't been for the piece of green kryptonite taped to his forehead, and the even smaller piece hiding in his breast pocket, he could've been free already. The bits of snow on his lap and shoulder, only continued to fall down from his shoulder, and down into his coat, every time he tried and moved. He could feel the wet snow melting, as it sat on his stomach, from the last remaining warmth he had left, the snow was nothing more than wet liquid, which made his body even colder as eventually the liquid snow dripped, rolling down his skin.

Clark never guessed this was how he'd be spending his Monday, tied up in some warehouse, surrounded by nothing but snow, ice, and frozen over tools and rusty equipment. Whoever had gone through all the trouble of bringing him here, really had everything planned out. Above his head was an enormous hole where the roof should've been, he could tell from how damaged and old the place looked, the building most likely had been abandon years ago. The walls were covered in brown rust, but the areas that still continued bits of pain were light lime green. As for the rest of the inside, the surrounding area was rather small. And curled up with his knees pressed together, Clark struggled in the corner, under the giant hole in the ceiling , which allowed pieces of falling snow down upon him. Some had fallen on his head, and even in his hair. As the degrees around him began to drop, every time he tried to move now, made him feel stiff and frozen.

He felt his muscles starting to cry out, as minuets felt like hours, he'd bee tied up like that. With the piece of kryptonite taped around his head, and around the pole, that kept him still, things were only going to become worse. In a few hours he'd lose consciousness, and his body would no longer have any warmth to keep its self alive. He'd be dead, from hypothermia.

He wasn't going anywhere, even if he wanted too. His strength didn't work, and his face felt so cold, his heat vision couldn't function right. He was powerless, and out of options. Even through all the madness he had to bare, the one question on his mind, was who had brought him there?

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Clark started the morning just like normal. Waking up at 6.30 every morning, to get dressed, gather what he needed for school, and head downstairs before he heard his mom call for him. He went with a normal outfit that morning. Since it'd just snowed the previous night, he went with something comfortable, and that could keep him warm under weather condition.

He saw nothing wrong with his normal, the red jacket he wore always seemed to bring out and match anything he wore underneath. And today, that was a regular bright red shirt, with a white buttoned up shirt underneath, and the red jacket to complete it all. By 6.45 he was dressed, and had his backpack dangling around his wrist.

Slowly coming down the stairs and into the kitchen, it surprised him when he heard nothing. Nothing but silence, aside from the slight creaks the floor made when he walked on it. His shoes were the easiest part of his morning wardrobe, for he only owned one pair, and they were always left in the same place. In his room, under his bed, his covers acted as a shield, so his mother, Martha, couldn't track them down and hide them from him.

What she called ''cleaning'' he called ''hiding.'' As Clark took in the surroundings around him, he noticed a perfectly sized letter hanging from the fridge. It was written in perfect handwriting so he could read it easy. The note read.

''Clark, your father and I have had to leave early this morning, will both see you at home after school! Make sure you do your best, and be home on time, your dad has something he wants to share with us!'' Clark studied it for longer than he should've, but once he was done, he placed the note on the counter, face down so he wouldn't forget he already read it, and reached slowly for a toasted piece of bread, from a fresh plate, left in the middle of the kitchen table.

He didn't question why it had been there, for his parents usually always have something for him to just pick up and eat on his way to school. He wasn't surprised this time. Toasting the sides, so they were a little darker brown, he took one medium-sized bite, before he drew his eyes on his watch. The time now read 7.10. He knew he wouldn't be late if he went to school now, but what was five more minutes. He had most of the period off, but since that talk he had with his parents about being late, he made sure he'd never be late again,

His back surely appreciated it, from all the extra chores he had to do, the last time he was late. Powers can only get you so far, while you're doing chores. Even a superhero's back hurts, at one point or the other.

As Clark too his five minutes, he quickly finished the last bite of his crispy toast, and took off out the front door. On his way though, he was surprised when he almost slipped on a small mountain of snow, looks like it had been waiting for him to come out that way, and was ready to ambush him.

As much as he loved his shoes, they weren't exactly built to withstand the icy roads in Smallville. He'd spent many winters there at the farm. And never once had he had any reason to change his shoes until now. Sighing remotely, he knew he would have to keep it slow this morning. He'd learned his lesson from last year, when he tried to run his normal pace during the first day of winter. All the snow that had fallen on him, made him look like Frosty's long-lost cousin Of course Pete had questions for him when he finally arrived. Even some students were staring at him. Or were they staring at the trail of wet shoe prints, and bits of snow that had fallen from his shoulders and back. Now that he thought about it, it was pretty funny, but today, on Monday, didn't seem like a pleasant day to relive his snowy fantasy.

He took off in a light jog to start, then just when he thought he was in the clear to pick up the paste, he was surely mistaken-ed. Almost straight on cue, a sizable piece of ice had gotten in his face. Saving himself from falling, he safely fell right on his bottom. His backpack had fallen right out of his hands and was now lying a few feet away from him.

Signing annoyingly, he picked himself up, making sure he didn't miss even a bit of snow from his jeans, he quickly cleaned up the little bits of snow from his knees. All wet, and finally ready to just give up running that morning, Clark walked his normal pace. Which wasn't even close to how fast he could go if he had the courage to run again? But to save himself the embarrassment from his neighbors, walking was the better way to go.

Making sure he had a better grip on his belongings this time, he threw his backpack over his shoulder, and took off down the road. He knew he'd be late now, but at least he had something to save him, once he got home.

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Unaware to Clark, someone had been watching him the entire time......