[Table 3 Prompt #005 Hurt] Title: Weak

[all_choseny]

Chapter 9: Weak
Storyline: Man of Steel: A New Hope
Characters: Clark Kent (Kal-El) & Lois Lane, Kelor, Jor-EL
Prompt: #005 Hurt 100prompts
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3482
Fandom: Superman/DC/DCEU
Summary:His face turned a deep crimson, veins protruded from beneath his skin as he struggled to slow the plane down. Clark thought about every life inside. They were all precious and valuable. He pictured their terrified faces and channeled everything within to keep the plane from crashing. The ground was getting closer. You have to do something, he told himself
A/N: Kelor is the AI that attacked Lois the night she attempted to get photos of the scout ship in MOS. Kelix is the AI that we saw on Krypton. I imagined that these two AI systems were a brother and sister program.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Story is mine.







Clark didn’t take a cab or a train to work that day. He wanted to avoid the crowds and be alone in his own thoughts. When he was a child his mother taught him to hone his senses and to focus on a fixed point. Sometimes it was easier than others. He heard them all the time. The voice. The mundane conversations two blocks away in another apartment building. The call of the wind blowing petals off a flower in some garden a state away. The dripping of a faucet in the Chinese restaurant across the street from his apartment. And the never-ending cries for help. Those were the worst sounds because he couldn’t save them all. He was fast. But he would never be fast enough to be two places at the same time. The guilt used to eat him up.

He was fast enough to save his father. He could have saved him. Instead, he went against his instincts and let his father die. While he drifted, he helped people. But it never seemed like enough in a sea of voices constantly crying out for help. He was only one person and there was so many. Then Lois came and showed him that what he did was enough. The things he could do mattered. He couldn’t save them all, but he saved.

Clark whizzed in and out of traffic on his bicycle. He liked the feel of the wind in his hair. It reminded him of flying. He leaned into the handlebars and pumped his legs at top speeds. The sounds were a distant murmuring in his ears as he rode through the streets toward The Planet. He felt good that day. Over the past week, he experienced sporadic bouts of weakness. Late at night while laying in bed he tried to make a catalog of when or why it was happening to him. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason for it. But it was the same feeling each time. The first time Clark remembered feeling that way was during Lex’s party. Could Lex be the connection? he thought. How was that possible? He wasn’t around when he almost collapsed after stopping two trains from crashing in head-on. Maybe, somehow, I am losing my powers. Maybe I’ve peaked. That was also a possibility he often pondered on. Another impossibility. The Earth still rotated around a yellow sun. Since that hasn't changed, neither should his abilities. Something was amiss. He just needed to figure it out.

But first, he needed coffee.

The bagel shop down the street from The Planet was a go-to for everyone in the office. Clark didn’t need to drink coffee. He enjoyed the taste. He also knew coffee made Perry very happy. He needed to stay on Perry’s good side while he worked on his latest article. Clark thought about the Wayne story as he waited his turn online. He had a meeting with the Gotham businessman later that week. Clark was looking forward to the interview session. After meeting him at Luthor’s charity event, he’d become intrigued with the billionaire. Like Luthor, on paper, he was a model citizen. But if you dug a little deeper, there was something more beneath surface. Something was a little off with Bruce Wayne. Clark was eager to find out. If he was another Lex Luthor, the people of Gotham deserved better.

“Good Morning, welcome to the Coffee Bean.” The woman at the front counter greeted Clark when it was his turn.

The reporter flashed a friendly smile to the new face behind the cash register. “Uh, hi,” he said before rattling off his order. He was bringing enough for Perry and a few others in the bullpen.

“Where’s Meg?” he asked. Megan was his usual barista.

The woman shrugged. “I don’t know. I started today.”

“Congratulations!” Clark said. A genuine smile spread across his face as he handed her his debit card to pay for his order.

“Thank you!” She gave Clark a quick once over. “You look like a special blend kind of guy. How about a dark roast?”

“Sure, why not?” Clark stepped to the side and waited for his order to come up. He checked his phone for any messages or news updates. He thought about Lois. If he timed it right, she should be two stops away on Bleaker.

“Here you, go!” The woman said handing him a tray of coffees to-go. “I hope you enjoy.”

Clark carefully took the coffee tray and flashed another smile. “Thank you. And Congratulations again.” He waved at her from the door. Clark looked between the coffee he held in one hand and his bike. “Well, I didn’t think this one through,” he said with a chuckle. After a few minutes, he was able to maneuver the bike in one hand and the cups in the other. The tray of coffee was like a ton of bricks in his arms as he carefully wheeled his bike down the crowded streets. His head began to pound, and his stomach churned.

“What took you so long, Smallville?” Lois greeted him with a smile. She took the coffee tray from his hand. Clark leaned in to plant a casual kiss on her cheek.

“How did you get here before me?” He asked genuinely surprised. His eyes drank her in. Her hair glowed a fiery red in the morning sun. His fingers itched to touch it and her. Clark sucked in a deep cleansing breath. He was starting to feel better already.

“I told you I’d beat you to work. Now you owe me.”

A slow grin pulled at the corner of his lips. “Oh? I don’t remember that part of the bet. What do I owe you?” Lois leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. The dimple in his cheek deepened and his eyes went wide. “I think we’ll have to stick a pin in that until later tonight.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

They rode the elevator up to their floor together. Clark grabbed the cup with his name on it and paused. Had he given the Barista his name? He shook his head and placed the cup on his desk. “I’ve got coffee,” he called out.

“I’ll take that.” Lombard grabbed a cup. He took a sip and nodded. “Thanks.” He took the extra cup and handed it to Cat.

Clark walked into Perry’s office. His editor was leaning close to his computer with a scowl on his face. “I’ve got Coffee,” he said lifting the cup toward his boss. Perry continued to glare at the screen and grunted his response. Clark gingerly placed the cup on Perry’s desk and back peddled out his office.

“How is he?” Lois mouthed from her desk.

“In a mood,” Clark whispered back and settled down in front of his laptop. The moment he sat in his chair, he began having that familiar sick feeling again. He lifted his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose. It’ll pass, he told himself as he began looking over his notes for the Bruce Wayne article. Clark absently grabbed his coffee and prepared to take a sip when Perry’s voice boomed through the bullpen.

“Lane! In my office now.”

Clark looked over at Lois. He recognized the look on her face. She did something to tick Perry off and she was fully prepared to face him down. He stood up with her ready to face the fire breathing dragon by her side.

“It’s okay, Clark,” she assured him.

He glanced over at Perry’s office. A worried expression creased his brow. “Are you sure, Lo?”

Lois bobbed her head. “Yes. I’m sure. I’ll just—”

Help! Please, someone, help us!

Mayday, Mayday, unable to make emergency landing. We’re going to crash. Oh, God. We’re going to crash

The sounds of distress cut through Lois’ words. There was a plane full of people hurling toward the earth from 30 thousand feet in the air. Clark could hear the cries of men, women, and children.

“I’m sorry, Lois, I-I’ve got to go.”

She placed a hand on his chest and gave him a light shove. “Yes, go! I’ll be fine.”

Clark nodded his head. He grabbed the coffee from his desk and pretended to head toward the break-room for more. He lifted the lid and its contents as he went. When he made it toward the end of the cubicles, he took a sharp left and threw the empty paper cup into a nearby trashcan. The cup bounced off the rim and fell to the floor. How? He had perfect aim. Clark took off his glasses. The colors in the room suddenly went blurry. He grabbed his shirt and struggled to pull it open to reveal the sign of hope etched across his chest. Before anyone could notice he was out the window and flying toward the distressed plane.

Clark spotted the falling object from miles away. Both engines were up in flames and dark, black smoke billowed at the 747''s sides. His body felt like lead making it hard for him to fly. Clark wanted to rest. His body felt so weak and his bones ached. Determined to shake it off, he pushed himself to fly harder and faster. He grit his teeth, forcing his weight against the gravity that threatened to push him to the ground. Sweat glistened on his face and a deep groaned rumbled from within. Just a few more feet, he coached himself against the staggering pain that threatened to take him out.
Clark flew beneath the plane and pressed his hands against the cold, hard metal. This wasn't the first time he prevented a plane from crashing, but this was the first time it felt impossible.

The plane continued to fall from the sky. He pushed his weight against it, forcing it to level. It took all his strength to hold the plane up. Clark grimaced and let out an agonizing howl as he used all his strength to hold the plane in the air. It was no use. The 747 continued to fall at the same speed. If he didn’t do something, everyone on that plane would die. Clark blinked away the image of his father being swept away by the tornado. This time there was no one or nothing stopping him. If these people died, it would be all his fault. In a last desperate effort, he flew toward the back of the plane and grabbed the rudder. His hands were slick with sweat, but he managed to grip the metal putting two twin sized hand dents on each side.

His face turned a deep crimson, veins protruded from beneath his skin as he struggled to slow the plane down. Clark thought about every life inside. They were all precious and valuable. He pictured their terrified faces and channeled everything within to keep the plane from crashing. The ground was getting closer. You have to do something, he told himself. Clark made his way back under the plane. It felt like the world was on his shoulders. What should have been an easy feat for him, became more of a challenge with each passing moment. Relief spread through him as his feet touched the grass below. He had managed to navigate the plane to a grassy field outside the city. Clark laid the plane down with a hard thud. Dirt kicked up and funneled inside his nose causing him to cough for several minutes. He bent over at the knees and tried to get control of his breathing while everyone in the plane watched.

I can’t let them see me like this.

Clark closed his eyes against the hum of voices and harsh elements. He imagined his mother’s voice calling out to him calmly from outside of the broom closet. He pictured Lois’ face smiling at him as sunlight bathed her face. Steady now, he made his way to the emergency exit and pulled the door open.

“Superman!” A woman cried out when she saw him.

“Watch your step, Ma’am,” he squeezed out. The bright, yellow emergency slide inflated allowing her and everyone else to safely exit the plane. Pushing through the pain, Clark made sure everyone was okay. There were a few bumps and scratches from the rough landing, but everyone was alive.

“Thank you so much, Superman. I- I- don’t know what happened back there,” The Captain said to him.

Clark forced a smile and shook the pilot’s hand. “I’m sure it was just an accident. Please make sure these people return home safely.”

“I will! And thanks again. I don’t know…” he looked around at the passengers roaming aimlessly in the field. “I don’t care what anyone says. I’m glad you’re here.”

Clark nodded his head. If he didn’t get out of there, he was going to pass out in front of all those people. He made one last safety check with the sweep of his eyes and took off again. He waited until he was several miles away to sit down on top of an empty hill. His head was killing him, and his body was too sore to move.

Rest. I just need to rest a minute.

Clark laid against the grass and let the warm sun wash over him. He laid in the tall grass for several long minutes before forcing himself to back up again. He needed to get to the scout ship.

++++

By the time he got to the abandoned spacecraft, Clark was almost too weak to stand. He braced himself against the door and forced his eyes open for the retinal scan. A few seconds later he was inside the structure.

“Kal-EL son of Jor-El,” Kelor greeted him.

“Kelor upload Jor-El.”

“File has been—”

“Override”

“Good Evening, Kal. I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

“I need your help,” Clark said weakly. “I think—I think I’m losing my powers.”

“Impossible. The sun burns brighter than ever as a result of Earth’s deteriorating ozone layer.”

Clark staggered forward and fell to his knees in front of his father’s hologram. “Then what’s happening to me?” he groaned. “Today I nearly killed myself and hundreds of people. Something is wrong.”

“I detect no changes in your physiology.”

“Something is happening inside of me. I can feel it. Help me… father.”

Jor-El looked down at his son’s prone body. “I can run some tests. The ships labs are still functional. Meet me in lab one in ten minutes,” Jor-El said before disappearing again.

Clark pulled himself from the ship’s cold floor and staggered down one of the corridors to his room. He stripped out of his “Superman” suit. He had some clothes stored in the fortress for times like these. Well, not exactly times like these.

“I recommend the black suit, Kal-El,” Kelor said hovering behind him.

Clark turned around to face the AI. “What’s it for?”

“The purpose of the Solar Regeneration Suit is to speed up your healing and recovery process. The suit absorbs solar energy, allowing it to rebuild damaged or broken cells.”

That sounded good to him. Clark followed Kelor to the armory room. He discovered the room months ago and learned there were suits available for him to wear. The craft offered the traditional blue and red color. And battle armor that looked like something straight out of an Iron Man comic book. As soon as he walked into the chamber, the doors to various suits slid open. He reached out and touched the black armor. Clark thought he could feel the power radiating from it.

“There are rocket boots if you wish to fly.”

A lopsided grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “No, thank you, Kelor. I think I’ll be fine walking for now.”

Clark suited up into the black armor. The fabric stretched against his muscles and molded to the contours of his body. He felt the power of the sun absorb into his skin, easing his aching bones.
“God Bless the man or woman who made this,” he said with a relieved sigh.

“Roa has given all Kryptonian’s life and gifts,” Kelor responded.

Clark shook his head. He knew that Roa was the Kryptonian God of the Sun. And as much as he was Kal-El when he walked through the doors of the fortress, he was still as American as apple pie. His parents raised him on a farm in middle America. Roa was as foreign to him as the planet he’d never get see.

“Where is my father?” he asked the robot.

“In lab one. Follow me.”

Clark trailed behind the robot to his father’s lab. The hologram was waiting for him in front of a massive computer. Clark edged beside Jor-El and looked down at the buttons and knobs. They were all labeled in Kryptonian. “I haven’t learned how to read it yet,” he told his father.

“In time you will come to know this language as you know the people of Earth’s.” The hologram pointed to one of the controls. “Turn it on,” he instructed.

Clark hesitated for a moment before he laid his palm down on a silver button and pushed it down. The last time someone touched something on the scout ship it had triggered Zod and his army. What else was out there?

“Now, pull that down and press that button,” Jor-El said. He waited for Clark to follow his instructions. “We’ll draw some blood and run some test. Everything you need is in there.” He pointed to a cabinet.
“Needles don’t work for me,” Clark said.

“Your body's defenses are weak. You should be able to pierce your skin.”

Clark was skeptical. As a child, he never went to the hospital. He never experienced broken bones or caught a cold. When every child in his kindergarten class caught the Chickenpox, he was the only one that was immune. His parents never bothered to take him for normal check-ups. He didn’t need them. Clark grabbed a syringe from the cabinet and tested it on the tip of his finger. A small crimson dot appeared on the tip. His eyes went wide with surprise at seeing his blood.

“I guess you were right,” he said to the ghost. Clark used the needle to prick himself and drew blood from a vein in his arm.

“Now place the blood over in this.” Jor-El pointed to a miniature capsule. “Kelor will examine your blood and check your vitals.”

“I was not programmed for medical purposes,” Kelor responded.
“Kelix will be better suited to preform this task.”

“Kelix was destroyed on Krypton,” Jor-El responded. “You will need to complete the tests.”

Clark watched the exchange between the two AI systems. It was uncanny. “While I was studying,” he interrupted. “I learned Kelor was the second incarnation of the Kryptonian AI system. What happened to the first?”

“It is forbidden to talk about the first. All records have been stricken from history," Kelor responded.

“Why?” Clark asked his father.

“All historical records have been stricken,” Jor-El repeated.

Clark let out a frustrated sigh. How was he supposed to learn about his home planet when there were things removed from the archives? How many other pieces of history were “stricken?” He wanted to ask his father, but he knew it was no use. The technology used to preserve his father’s consciousness could only go so far. They waited in the lab for several long minutes before the monitors began to sound.

“Your vitals are weakened. But it’s not fatal,” Jor-El reported.

“But what about my…powers? Am I losing my powers?”

“Your powers are stabilizing, and they should return to full capacity in a matter of hours. Exposure to Kryptonian radiation temporarily weakened the effects of the yellow sun.”

“Kryptonian radiation? How?”

“There were traces of it in your bloodstream quite possibly from planetary particles. It appears you ingested it.”

Ingested? But how…the coffee!. That was the only liquid he drank the entire day. Someone laced his drink with Kryptonian meteorite particles? Who? And why? Clark recalled his morning pit-stop at the coffee shop. The only person he could think of was the girl at the counter. He didn’t recognize her. Or did he? He thought she seemed familiar. Why would the new girl try to poison him? How would she know that pieces of his planet would effect him? But more importantly, how did she know that he was "Superman?"

“I had coffee this morning. It must have happened then… how long is it going to take me to recover? When will I be able to fly again?”

“You can fly with rocket boots, Kal-El,” Kelor reminded him.

“No thanks, Kelor. I rather do it on my own steam.”

“It’ll be a few hours. You might want to contact Ms. Lane and let her know you’ll be late for dinner,” Jor-El said.