Victor Stone had resigned himself to the fact that he was completely alone in the world. He had comrades, but they were completely organic. He had people he'd consider calling 'friend', but they were organic as well. They had secret identities. They...
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The wheels of straw rested on their earthen bed, soaking in sunshine, adding their fragrance to the day that developed as an old photographic film may. Under the sky that is made all the more pretty for the scattered clouds, the white puffs that radiate white light, every colour is made more prominent. The farm itself grew up out of the pale green hills as if it had always been part of the scenery. The house was a beautiful brick, the colours being the hues of the land; rustic brown striations on grey rock. Upon the rolling fields grew potatoes, turnips and all the root vegetables people loved to roast in the autumn.
The old hay barn had stables at the front with those old half-doors to allow the horses to see the view of the yard. Once the old iron bolts were opened there was a ladder rising to a loft, the place where they stored the hay. Clark could be seen walking out of this small structure, carrying a hay bundle on either shoulder.
"Clark!" Harper called out, but the man didn't stop his journey to the animal pens nearby. He already knew that they were there, but apparently he had no interest in speaking. Perhaps because he was also aware of the reason behind their visit.
Harper's teeth gritted together so hard that it was almost audible from inside her suit. She stormed after him in a huff, and Victor trailed slowly behind; focusing his attention on the windmill in the distance. The ground near it sloped westward, down to the barns and granaries and the pig-yards. This slope was trampled hard and bare, washed out in winding gullies by last week's rain.
"I know you don't want to listen, but you're going to anyway!" Harper insisted just as the burly man threw one of the stacks of hay over a fence to feed the sheep kept within it. He then continued on his path, not even granting them a sideways glance. This only made Harper angrier. "I can't believe that you're the same Superman that basically died trying to protect the world from Doomsday... You're a shadow of what you were before..."
Still, there was no reaction from the man that they were following; as if he had told himself these things hundreds of times already. Instead, he pegged the last hay barrel through the air and it landed perfectly a few yards away in the pig pen. With his back still turned, he started back towards the house as if their very presence was nothing to him but a quiet breeze.
"This is your chance to make things right." Harper kept trying, hoping to evoke some kind of reaction from the man. "Your daughter is a danger to practically every living thing on this planet. It's your responsibility to make sure that she uses her powers for the greater good...instead you've let her run amok."
Clark's shoulder's tensed. At long last, he was showing some small fragment of emotion. "I was ordered to never get involved in these affairs again, so I won't."
"Is the thought of breaking the law seriously more important than saving people? More important than saving your daughter?"
The man of steel sighed much too calmly and finally turned to face the two people that had trespassed on his land. "I know you're trying to help, but there's nothing I can do. The people don't want my help. Neither does my daughter."
