[Third Person POV]
Clark took the lead as he began showing them around the crystalline expanse of the Fortress of Solitude. Behind him, the others trailed with hesitant, almost reverent steps, their eyes darting from one glittering surface to another.
"Now, if you look to your left," Clark said in a dry, tour-guide voice, motioning lazily to a jagged wall of luminous sun-stone crystal, "you'll find a magnificent display of crystal. And if you glance to your right, you'll be thrilled to discover—brace yourselves— even more crystal. And for those craving an unexpected twist, simply tilt your heads up and feast your eyes on… wait for it… a breathtaking ceiling entirely composed of, you guessed it, crystal."
He threw them a wry grin over his shoulder, his voice thick with playful sarcasm.
"You are terrible at this," Momo deadpanned as she crossed her arms. "Remind me never to hire you as a tour guide."
Before Clark could fire back, a smooth, melodic voice floated from behind them, halting everyone in their tracks.
"Perhaps you should leave the touring to someone with a bit more… grace?"
The group turned as one. Standing a few paces away was a striking woman with long, wavy hair. Her elegant Kryptonian gown flowed around her, every fold and ripple speaking of a culture far removed from Earth. She carried herself with a quiet authority that made the vast chamber seem smaller by her presence alone.
"Eh? Who's this gorgeous lady?" Momo whispered, her jaw slightly slack. "Is she like… some kind of advanced A.I. for the Fortress?"
Clark exhaled through his nose, his voice flattening into a monotone. "She's my birth mother."
The air seemed to freeze. Seiko and Momo whipped their heads toward him in perfect unison, their mouths falling open in stunned disbelief. Lala, on the other hand, broke into a delighted giggle and skipped forward with unrestrained enthusiasm.
"Ohhh, so you're Clark's mama!" Lala chirped, her tail bouncing as she clasped her hands together. "You're so beautiful!"
The woman—Lara-El—smirked at the compliment, her sharp yet gentle eyes softening. "Why, thank you," she said warmly. Her gaze lingered on Lala, studying her with a subtle curiosity. "That hair… that tail… and that unmistakable charm. Tell me, are you by any chance related to Sephie Deviluke?"
"Yup!" Lala replied without a moment's hesitation, her smile bright and cheerful. "She's my mama! Do you know her?"
"According to my records, your mother and I were once very close friends," Lara-El answered, a delicate chuckle escaping her lips.
Lala tilted her head, momentarily puzzled by the strangely formal wording, but her natural cheer prevented her from questioning it further. Meanwhile, Lara-El's attention shifted toward Seiko and Momo, who stood awkwardly near the back, their posture stiff as if unsure of how to present themselves before such a regal figure.
"In your culture," Lara-El said softly, inclining her head, "it is customary to bow when offering one's gratitude. So allow me to honor your traditions." She lowered her head gracefully. "You have my deepest thanks for welcoming my son into your family and loving him as your own. That is a debt I fear I can never truly repay."
Seiko stepped forward, scratching the back of her neck as the cigarette dangling from the corner of her lips sent a faint trail of smoke curling into the chilled air. "It's fine," she said with an easy shrug. "We love Clark. Like you said, he's family. And with family, there's no debt to settle—just love. So don't worry about it."
A mischievous glint sparkled in Momo's eyes as she leaned toward Clark, her voice a low whisper meant only for him. "Dude… you seriously didn't warn us your mom was a total smoke show. Holy hell…"
Clark shot her a look of pure exasperation. "That's because she's my mother, you weirdo."
Momo smirked and tilted her head, giving Lara-El another obvious once-over. "Okay, but seriously, did the hotness gene just decide to skip a generation? How can she look like that and you look like… well… that?" She waved vaguely toward his face in mock disappointment.
Clark's brows furrowed, irritation flashing in his blue eyes. "Keep talking, and I swear I'll launch you straight to the moon and leave you there."
As the playful bickering continued, Lala narrowed her eyes at Lara-El, an odd suspicion flickering across her face. Slowly, almost experimentally, she reached out a hand. To her astonishment, her fingers slipped clean through the woman's form, encountering nothing but a faint ripple of light.
"Clark!" Lala gasped, drawing her hand back in surprise. "Your mom's a hologram! Whoa—I totally thought she was actually standing here with us! So where is she really?"
An uneasy silence settled over the group. All eyes shifted toward Lala, but no one spoke.
"What?" she asked innocently, tilting her head. "Did I say something wrong?"
"Ohhh, right," Momo said after a beat, snapping her fingers in realization. "I forgot you're new to all this. You don't really know Clark's whole backstory, do you?" She turned to Lala with a sly grin. "Well, buckle up, princess. As you might've guessed, Clark isn't exactly from around here. He's an alien—from the planet Krypton."
"Krypton… where have I heard that name before…" Lala murmured, pressing two fingers dramatically against her forehead. Her brows knit in fierce concentration.
Clark arched a brow, half-amused despite himself. 'If I didn't know any better,' he thought, 'I'd swear she's about to attempt instant transmission.'
Then Lala's eyes snapped open in sudden realization. "Oh, that's right! My history lessons from Mama!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying a hint of triumph. "She taught me about Krypton once—how it was this mighty planet, full of brilliant scientists and incredible technology… but it was destroyed by their own carelessness." Her words trailed off into a hesitant whisper. "Oh…"
The cheerful energy in her face melted into wide-eyed sorrow as she turned to stare at Clark, her lips trembling.
Momo folded her arms, nodding grimly. "Yeah. Clark here is the last surviving member of his race—or so the story goes. Right before Krypton went kaboom, his parents fired him off in a tiny space pod. He crash-landed here on Earth, got scooped up by Grandma, and the rest is history." She let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh. "Honestly, I always thought it sounded like some kind of intergalactic bedtime story. Total baloney. But then you showed up, Lala, with your alien royalty business, and… well, it doesn't seem so crazy anymore."
Lala's eyes brimmed with tears, the crystalline walls around them reflecting the shimmer of her emotion. She stared at Clark as though seeing him for the first time, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.
"Lala," Clark said, suddenly uncomfortable under the weight of her gaze.
"But… but… Clark's mama is right here, isn't she?" Her voice cracked as she turned desperately toward Lara-El, searching for reassurance.
The holographic woman's expression softened, though her luminous eyes held a distant sadness.
"That is merely a simulated manifestation," Clark said quietly before Lara-El could answer. His voice was steady, but his eyes drifted to a distant column of crystal. "What you see is a projection based on archived memories from Krypton's data banks. My real mother… she's gone."
Lala's tears spilled freely now, streaking down her cheeks like tiny streams of starlight. "That's so awful," she sobbed, her words hitching with every breath. "You're the last member of your race… I—I can't even imagine what that's like. It's just… it's too sad!"
Clark winced at the sound of her crying, rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace. "Stop crying," he muttered, his tone more pleading than stern.
"I'm sorry," Lala wailed, her voice cracking. "I just can't help it!"
Before Clark could respond, Lara-El's calm, resonant voice cut through the chamber.
"Actually," she said, each syllable deliberate, "Clark is not the last surviving member of our race. He is our last hope yes, but not the last member"
The words hung in the air, heavy and electric. Everyone turned toward the hologram in unison—Momo with wide-eyed curiosity, Seiko with a cautious frown, and Clark himself with a jolt of realization.
"Wait," Clark said sharply, his blue eyes narrowing. "What do you mean by that?" Although he knew it was a possibility, being confronted with it was something else entirely.
Lara-El's gaze softened, but there was a solemn gravity in her expression. "As you may recall, your father and I oversaw the creation of a containment dimension—a prison designed to hold Krypton's most dangerous criminals. We called it the Phantom Zone."
Lala's hand shot up as if she were in a classroom. "Oh! I actually studied the Phantom Zone!" she said brightly, tears still clinging to her lashes. "It came up during one of my politics lessons. Super boring stuff, but I remember some of it. My papa even uses the dimension to lock away intergalactic warlords who try to usurp him!"
Momo turned toward the shimmering figure of Lara-El, her curiosity growing. "Wait a second… are you saying there are Kryptonians still inside this Phantom Zone? People who survived Krypton's destruction because they were locked away?"
Lara-El gave a slow, solemn nod. "Yes. Among those imprisoned is one unlike any other. He was not merely a soldier but a weapon—engineered and trained for nothing but battle and conquest. He commanded Krypton's entire military with ruthless precision." Her eyes darkened with the memory. "His name… is General Zod."
Clark ran a hand through his hair, fingers tightening until his knuckles whitened. A tension coiled in his chest. He could already feel the inevitability settling in his bones, the quiet certainty that their paths would one day cross.
Zod.
The name itself felt like a distant omen he knew he could not avoid.
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