A few minutes earlier…
After Heisenberg had departed, Clark turned and flew toward Cyborg's location.
The moment he'd received Cyborg's file and address, a single glance had confirmed that Cyborg was still at his home—barely three kilometers from the Kryptonian ship where the others were gathered.
Moments later, Clark hovered outside Cyborg's window. He'd arrived so quickly that no passing pedestrian had yet glanced his way. Suspended in midair, Clark flashed a slight smile and raised his hand in a small wave at the cold, distant figure silhouetted through the glass.
What he absolutely did not expect was that, in response to his gesture, the figure inside—Cyborg—would suddenly raise a steel arm.
The next instant, a violent burst of energy blasted through the window and slammed squarely into Clark's chest.
Feeling the sudden coating of frost spreading across his upper body, Clark blinked in surprise, then frowned deeply.
He actually attacked me outright. This is the teammate Bruce has his eye on?
Such raw aggression!
He could clearly see Cyborg in the building across from him, still building up another charge.
Clark let out a soft sigh, then surged forward, barreling straight through the shattered window, slamming Cyborg to the floor and pinning him down.
Only then did Clark realize things weren't quite as he'd imagined.
Cyborg's body was trembling uncontrollably, his face twitching and spasming as if in the grip of a violent seizure.
Watching this, Clark drew another deep breath.
This really might not be suitable. With this kind of psychological instability, can he truly be a teammate?
Bruce has always been so reliable. Why would he pick someone this unstable?
Still holding Cyborg down, Clark spoke.
"You must recognize who I am, so try not to let my arrival fill you with worry or fear. As long as you aren't guilty of any crime, I'll never be your enemy. Right?"
"No—stay back! I can't control myself! Your energy signature is too intense! My body—it's trying to counterattack on its own, I can't stop it! I'm losing control!"
Cyborg thrashed and shouted from the floor, straining desperately to throw off Clark's grip. But no matter how violently he struggled, Clark remained as immovable as a mountain, pinning him securely to the ground.
After hearing Cyborg's words, however, Clark finally understood.
He immediately worked to suppress his own power, much as he did when hiding himself at the Daily Planet. Releasing Cyborg, he pulled his aura inward, reining it in completely until he looked no different from any ordinary person.
Clark had never formally developed his bio-electric field, but instinct had always driven it to develop in directions that served his needs. It was the reason no one could ever get a clear photograph of his face—this same instinct was subtly manipulating the field around him.
And now, because he truly wished to appear as just a man, Cyborg no longer sensed the danger emanating from him.
Cyborg slowly climbed to his feet.
Looking at Clark, who was smiling gently at him, Cyborg shook his head in defeat.
"You're Superman. I know who you are. But I'm not your enemy, I'm not some super-criminal, and I'm definitely not your match. If you're still going to take me in, just do it. Even though I've never done anything, I am a monster. A monster who's lost his life—or rather, one whose remaining days were long ago filled with unfeeling steel."
Cyborg's voice had been rising, and only when he realized he had been practically spitting in Superman's face did he make an effort to rein in his anger.
Standing before him, Clark gazed at Cyborg with that same steady, penetrating look. The look made Cyborg instinctively turn his head away; he felt as though Clark could see straight through him.
And then what Clark said next cut directly to the wound.
Clark sighed softly.
"I know your story. I know how you came to be what you are. But I never imagined that, even now—more than four months later—you'd still be living in so much pain."
"Why shouldn't I be in pain? I lost everything. My mother, my life… I don't even have a heart anymore…"
"But you still have your father."
"That's not my father! He's a cold-hearted devil! He's the reason my mother is dead, and he's the one who turned me into this monster!"
"Your mother died in a car accident, son."
"Don't call me son!"
"Then your mother still died in a car accident, Victor. I'm sorry for that. Truly."
"Yeah, you should be sorry. You're Superman. You're always saving people. So where were you when my mother was in that accident?!"
"Let me think…"
Confronted with words that should have stung, the kind-hearted Clark felt no anger toward this young man so clearly in the grip of his own suffering.
He actually paused to recall.
A moment later, Clark nodded lightly.
"May 14th, three months ago. The Leaning Tower of Pisa collapsed due to a terrorist attack. At the time of your accident… I was holding it upright."
"Holding it… upright?!"
As Clark's words landed, Cyborg fell utterly silent across from him. He stared at Clark, dazed, then shook his head in frustration.
"Fine. I was being irrational again. I know that was my fault, not yours. I just… I can't always control myself. So—let's start this over. I'm Victor Stone. I need to know what you came here for."
Setting aside the topic of his mother, Cyborg forced himself to meet Clark's gaze with a steady expression.
Under that gaze, Clark nodded and said gently, "Clark Kent. Or Kal-El—whichever you prefer. I came to you in my true identity, not to subdue you. I've read your file. You're passionate, bright, outgoing, and kind. So my visit wasn't just to see this so-called 'miracle' of yours. It was also to—"
"I'm no miracle. I'm a monster. A monster my father forcibly sculpted into—!"
BOOM!
Before Cyborg could finish, Clark surged forward and slammed him back against the wall, pinning him there. The motion startled Cyborg into silence.
And after once again reprimanding Cyborg physically, Clark spoke in a quiet voice.
"You need to show your father some respect, kid. When you were dying from the same crash that killed your mother, your father broke countless regulations, deceived countless people, and took risks beyond counting to bring you back. If even one thing had gone wrong, you might not have died, but your father would absolutely have been executed by one agency or another. Unless I'd stepped in to save him, there's no way he would have survived that. He put his own life inches from death just to save you."
"So what?! He still turned me into a monster!"
"No."
BOOM!
Clark's fist connected with Cyborg's face. As Cyborg reeled from the blow, struggling to regain his senses, Clark spoke softly to the young man who was slowly recovering his reason.
"Your father didn't turn you into a monster. He turned you into me. You went from a football player—someone I probably would never have had the chance to know in my entire life—into an extraordinary being that even Superman himself has come to invite in person."
With those words, Clark released Cyborg, then stepped aside, his expression full of regret, and bowed his head slightly.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit you. You have your own pain. It's just… I once lost my father. Both of my fathers. And it still hurts beyond words. I…"
He let out a breath and placed a heavy hand on Cyborg's shoulder.
"I don't want anyone to feel that, especially you. You still have a chance to make things right. You should be grateful your father is still here…"
"I…"
Listening to Clark, Cyborg picked himself up off the floor, his expression gradually settling.
Superman was, after all, someone worthy of his trust. And there was one particular trait common to college-aged kids: they ignore their family's words but listen to outsiders. They dismiss their elders' advice but heed the words of important people.
And so Clark's rebuke had taught him to be calm.
In just a few moments, he had steadied himself and gave Clark a bow.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I… I still can't control myself very well."
"It's fine. I'll teach you."
"You? Teach me? You mean…?"
"I want to invite you to join a team. It was proposed by my great-grandfather—the Sun God—and its first members will be myself, Batman, and Wonder Woman. We're calling it… the Justice League."
Clark then fixed his gaze on Cyborg and solemnly explained the situation regarding Darkseid.
…
…
…
After he had finished, Cyborg nodded without hesitation.
"Whether for justice or for personal reasons, I want in. But please understand—right now, I can barely control this power. Every moment of it is agony. I… I may never become the kind of person you all are."
"But we're only ourselves. Our abilities may differ, but our hearts are no more special than yours. Batman watched his parents gunned down when he was very young. Wonder Woman never even met her father. My birth father died shortly after I was born, and my adoptive father died right in front of me—to protect my secret. I stood there in a crowd, watching him die, because everyone around us were neighbors who would have recognized me instantly. To keep me from being exposed, my father chose death over letting me save him. And standing there, helpless—that's the one thing to this day I've never been able to forgive myself for."
Clark fell silent for a long moment, forcing down the regret that still gnawed at him, before he looked back at Cyborg.
"So you see—none of us come from some perfect, feel-good family. Right?"
"Yeah."
Cyborg nodded, silent for a beat.
When he lifted his head again, a rare glimmer of hope lit his face.
"What did you say that team was called again?"
"The Justice League. Our headquarters is in the Kryptonian ship, not far from here."
As he spoke, Clark and Cyborg both turned to look through the ruined wall toward the ship.
And in that instant, Clark's face turned bright red.
…
…
A long silence followed, until Cyborg finally broke it.
Frowning slightly, he asked in a low voice, "Is the rest of our team always that… talkative?"
"Those aren't our people. That's a new recruit we just brought in. We'd better head back. Let's just hope that new teammate doesn't push my great-grandfather too far."
"I think the Sun God's already there. He's swearing."
"You probably shouldn't say that to his face."
"Got it."
Cyborg immediately understood.
That guy must have one hell of a temper.
He's cursing up a storm…
/-\
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