A Future Sooner than Tomorrow

Future Friend Or Present Foe

It's quiet under kryptonite. Quieter than Kal would like. Since he was a child, the world had always been full of noise; breathing, heartbeats, the rustle of clothes and cloths and curtains. All of it had a sound.

People for one are a cacophony of noise. They brush against things, their hair rubs against their necks, their teeth click; even staying still, a person can never truly be quiet. Kal has always sought comfort in that, the reminder that he's never truly alone no matter where he is.

Now all he can hear comes from himself. He's tempted to speak out loud just to check if he can and that the quiet won't suffocate the words the moment they come out of his mouth.

He doesn't though. With his head strapped back, he can't check for cameras. He wouldn't put it past Luthor to have them installed somewhere.

He tries tugging his wrists from the restraints again. It doesn't work.

Kal will check again in five minutes.

He debates whether he could get the gas mask off. His hands are bound, his head has limited movement and he is not sure how else he'd be able to get the thing off.

Kal tries opening his mouth as wide as it'll go in an attempt to dislodge it. All it does is dig into his cheeks.

He's stuck, well and truly stuck.

He wonders how Kon is doing, whether he's strapped up like Kal is. Kal hopes not. It hurts.

At least from what Luthor had said, Kon doesn't seem to be in any immediate danger. Although...

The fascination Luthor has with the boy was strong. And there was the feverish determination in his eyes that Kal had thought the man was missing back in the office. Except it wasn't missing, Kal now realises.

It had simply been redirected.

'Our boy,' had been what Luthor had said. 'Our,' as though Luthor had an indisputable claim on Kon. Kal's Luthor had always been possessive, borderline fixated, on things but they had always been just that: things. Never once had it been a person in Kal's memory.

Kal tugs at the restraints.

He wonders where the others are. Nobody seems to be in here with him but how close are they? In a room across or beside his? On a different floor? In a different building?

Mainly, Kal wonders whether J'ohn is okay. He's not sure how long a direct burn would hurt the martian. He should've asked before they had gotten themselves in a situation where knowing would be necessary.

Kal tugs at the restraints.

Clark Kent has never been to a hospital before. His parents haven't been in all the time he's been around and his friends have either not been or not asked him to come. And Clark has impeccable health apart from his supposedly poor eyes.

Kal-El has never been to a hospital before. He's invulnerable most of the time and in the cases where he is hurt, a hospital wouldn't be able to help. And doctors would be more likely to realise he's not human than anyone else.

He imagines this burning, overly clean smell is what a hospital would smell like. He hates it.

Kal tugs at his restraints.

His lips are dry and he runs his tongue over them only to regret it when he falls into a coughing fit. His mouth tastes acidic and his throat burns with an intensity that has him sweating.

The oxygen is mixed with kryptonite, Luthor said.

Excess must've settled around his mouth. And he's just ingested it.