Superman - Son of Krypton

Chapter Eleven - Captured

Black. When Clark awoke, all he could see was black. Was he blind? No. There was something around his head. Clark tried to move, tried to fly away. Nothing. Not only were his hands and feet tied together. but he couldn't fly. Why couldn't he fly? He was sitting on something wooden, presumably a chair, and he couldn't move a muscle. How could some rope and a wooden chair stop a Kryptonian? It was impossible. But so was him getting hurt by a simple bullet and captured. Yet here he was. Here he was.

The pillowcase on Clark's head was suddenly ripped off, dust flying everywhere. Clark coughed. The room he was in was cold and dimly lit. He was surrounded by stone walls that gave him a cave feel. A man in a black uniform stood in front of Clark, watching his every move. Clark attempted to hit him with heat vision from his eyes, and felt a burning pain. Nothing came out of his eyes, just hurt him instead. Clark then focused on the ropes bonding him, and tried to break them. Nothing, no super strength. He had the same strength as a human now, if even that. Chances are, he was even weaker than a human. Clark resigned from trying to escape and focused on his captor.

"What do you want from me?" Clark spat.

"What do I want from you?" the man shook his head, exasperated. "Absolutely nothing."

Clark scowled, or at least tried his best. "Then why am I here?"

"So that you can do absolutely nothing."

Clark attempted to lunge at the man, but ended up merely swaying the chair.

"Not very bright, are we?" the man pointed below Clark, where in a complete circle around him, there was a single ring of glowing green. "That's Kryptonite."

"What?"

The man in black let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "The green stuff makes people like you weaker. Quite genius, actually."

A bald man in a tuxedo walked into the cell and nodded to the man in black, who left. The tuxedo man stared at Clark for a minute, as if examining a trophy.

"Decide to dress up for the occasion?" Clark finally said.

"For this," the man laughed. "Oh, no. I'm merely coming to look at my new favorite pet. Then I'll be on my way. I have a big night tonight."

"Where am I?" asked Clark. "What is this? Who are you?"

The man laughed again. "Slow down. First, you are in a cell. Second, this is, say, an intermission. And I am Lex Luthor."

Lex Luthor. Clark was surprised he hadn't recognized that face after all the magazines he'd seen. But Lex Luthor was the last person Clark would expect to be visiting his holding cell.

"An intermission?" Clark was confused.

"Eh, it's a loose term. 

"So tell me," Clark changed the subject. "Why is Lex Luther in my 'intermission'?"

"Well," Luthor laughed yet again, a sound that Clark was beginning to loathe. "Uh, I own this place."

Clark didn't reply. Why would Lex Luthor own a place like this? 

"This is a facility for Squad K. I just founded this place for aliens like you that we may encounter. Here, we create weapons and containment cells that are alien-proof. We're working on some fancier cells, but we work with what we have. We finally figured out the right amount of Kryptonite to put in that blaster I shot you with. Been trying to bring you in for weeks now. And here we are."

"So this about the whole Anti-Alien thing, huh?" said Clark. "Why shouldn't I help people that need it?"

"I'm sure, by now, that you know the answer to that question," replied Lex Luthor. "You, one bad alien, is all it takes for our world to be swarmed with aliens like you! That will happen soon if we don't do something about it. I won't let it happen. I will exterminate you before more of you get here and there are too many to handle!"

"That's not our... that's not my goal."

"Actions speak louder than words, Kryptonian," said Luthor. "And your pathetic attempts at playing the hero won't work. I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to convince people 'Jesus doesn't exist, but come on over to me, I can help people.'"

"That's not what I'm trying to do," Clark said defiantly. "You must know that."

"Nothing you may be planning will work. So maybe some people are beginning to see your side of things, to accept you as a hero. But not me. And believe me, I have influence. As long as I'm still kickin', you will never be able to brainwash the citizens of Metropolis into thinking you're God."

"I'm not trying to be a god!" exclaimed Clark. "I'm trying to do what others can't. Protect people, from the threats that loom before them. I can't just stand by while bad things happen."

"Well you won't have to. You'll be tied up. And no more bad things will happen, because you aren't going anywhere," Luthor checked his watch and clicked his tongue. He ran a hand across his bald head. "I'm just about late to the campaign. But thanks for the conversation. It really convinced me that what I'm doing is the right thing. I'll be back to get information out of you and have fun with some new toys, though, so get comfortable. You're going to be here for awhile."