DC Universe (Earth-2609th)
1989, Smallville, Kansas
The golden fields of Smallville swayed gently under the embrace of the summer sun, a quiet serenity spread across the land as if the world itself was holding its breath. Overhead, a sky so blue it felt infinite stretched in every direction, dotted only by the occasional cloud. But above that peaceful scene, unseen by the farmers working the land or the children playing, something far from ordinary was streaking through the atmosphere.
A tiny spacecraft, barely larger than a family car, broke through the Earth's atmosphere in a blur of light and energy. It descended quickly, yet gracefully, unnoticed by anyone below. As it touched down in a cornfield belonging to a humble couple, Jonathan and Martha Kent, the craft made barely a sound—an entrance as gentle as a whisper, though the moment would prove to be anything but insignificant.
Inside that craft lay a small child, no older than three. His name was Kal-El, the last son of the now-obliterated planet Krypton. He was sent across the galaxy by his parents in a desperate attempt to save him from the same fate that had claimed his homeworld. But what none could have foreseen was that this child, this boy, would become someone whose name and legacy would one day be known across the universe: Clark Kent, Earth's mightiest protector.
This was no ordinary transmigration. Within the soul of this young Kal-El resided the consciousness of a man who had once lived an entirely different life—a man who had known the stories of Kal-El, of Superman, and all the grand mythos surrounding him. That man, once an ordinary fan of DC Comics in another universe, now found himself as young Clark Kent, his fate entwined with the most legendary of heroes.
As he opened his eyes for the first time in this new world, the warmth of the Kansas sun touched his face. His awareness sharpened—everything around him felt more vibrant, more intense than ever before. In that instant, the reality of his situation hit him hard, like an overwhelming wave.
"I'm Clark Kent," he thought, a sudden rush of memories flooding him. "This is real… I'm actually Clark Kent."
He struggled to reconcile his fragmented memories. Just yesterday—was it yesterday?—he had been in his world, reading a comic or watching Smallville. He had no powers then, no alien heritage. But now, the air tasted different, the earth beneath him felt alive, buzzing with energy he could not yet explain. His eyes widened as he sat up in the small ship, looking around.
Before he could begin to process everything, a rumbling sound grew louder in the distance. A truck was approaching, a cloud of dust trailing behind it as it rolled down the dirt path toward the cornfield. Inside that truck, Jonathan Kent was driving, his weathered hands gripping the steering wheel with the ease of a man accustomed to the land. Beside him, Martha Kent's sharp eyes scanned the fields, always alert for any sign of trouble—or, in this case, the extraordinary.
"There's something up ahead, Jonathan," Martha said, her voice tight with concern. "It looks… metallic."
Jonathan nodded, slowing the truck as they neared the edge of the field. What they saw next defied explanation. The corn had been parted, forming a path that led directly to a shining object half-buried in the earth. Jonathan stopped the truck, and they both stepped out, their eyes wide with disbelief.
Nestled among the cornstalks was a spacecraft, sleek and otherworldly. But what truly captured their attention was not the ship itself, but the small child it cradled inside.
Martha's breath caught in her throat. "Jonathan… look at him."
The boy, with dark curls and wide, bright eyes, blinked up at them from the safety of his pod. His gaze was innocent, filled with the natural curiosity of a child, yet there was something else there too—something ancient, as if this child had seen things far beyond the comprehension of any ordinary human.
Jonathan Kent, a man of few words, felt a strange pull in his heart. He crouched down, reaching out a cautious hand toward the boy, who stared back at him with a mix of fear and wonder. The child didn't cry. He simply gazed at Jonathan and Martha as if sensing that these two people would protect him.
Martha knelt beside Jonathan, her eyes filled with compassion. "We can't leave him here. Look at him, Jonathan. He needs us."
Jonathan glanced from the child to his wife and nodded. He reached into the spacecraft, his rough hands gently lifting the small boy out of the pod. As soon as the child was in his arms, the boy snuggled against his chest, his little body radiating warmth.
Jonathan felt the weight of that tiny body in his arms and knew, without a doubt, that this was no ordinary child. "We'll take him home," he said, his voice firm. "We'll figure it out."
---
Later That Night
As the night deepened, Smallville was bathed in a blanket of stars. The small farmhouse felt alive with the energy of the mysterious child now resting within its walls. Upstairs, young Clark lay in the bed Martha had made for him, staring up at the ceiling, his mind swirling with the fragmented memories of two lives that, until recently, had been completely separate.
He remembered his old world—dimly, like the fading recollections of a dream. In that life, he had been frail, weak, often bedridden by sickness. But his mind had always been sharp, sharp enough to escape into the adventures of comic books and stories about heroes with powers far beyond those of ordinary men. Superman had been his favorite, a symbol of hope and strength in a world where he had none.
Now, the impossible had happened. He was no longer a passive observer, reading about Superman's adventures. He was Superman—or at least, he would be. The very thing he had once idolized was now his reality. He could hardly process the enormity of it. His fragile human body had been replaced by something far greater. He was Kal-El, last son of Krypton, and the universe had handed him a future that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
He felt different already. The warmth of the sun earlier had felt like pure energy coursing through his veins, filling him with a strength he'd never known. But beneath the excitement, there was also fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what lay ahead. He knew the legends of Superman, but living them was a far different matter.
Just as these thoughts began to overwhelm him, something strange happened. A soft, mechanical hum filled the room, and then he heard a voice—not outside, but within his mind.
[The Superman Supporting System activated…]
Clark bolted upright, his heart racing. "What the…?"
[Do not be alarmed, Kal-El. I am the Superman Supporting System, an artificial intelligence designed to assist you in becoming the protector of Earth. My primary function is to guide your development, ensuring that you reach your full potential.]
The words echoed clearly in his mind, and though they were robotic, there was a strange calmness to them. Clark's initial shock gave way to curiosity. He had seen enough sci-fi stories in his old life to know that AI wasn't always a good thing. But this… this system, this "SS," seemed to have only one purpose: to help him become the Superman he was destined to be.
"So… you're like my personal coach?" Clark thought, speaking to the system in his mind.
[In a manner of speaking, yes. My primary function is to monitor your growth, provide training programs, and offer guidance on how to manage both your Kryptonian abilities and the challenges of your dual identity as Kal-El and Clark Kent.]
Clark took a deep breath, leaning back against the pillows. The system's presence was oddly comforting, and while it was still strange to hear a voice inside his head, he was relieved to have someone—or something—help him navigate this new life.
"Okay, SS. What do I need to know? Where do we start?"
[Your powers are still developing. As you age and continue to absorb the sun's energy, your abilities will gradually manifest. You will need to learn to control them. At this stage, restraint is crucial. The potential for accidental harm is high, especially during emotional spikes or moments of fear.]
Clark nodded, understanding the weight of that statement. His powers were not fully developed yet, but even at this young age, they could easily get out of hand. He remembered how Superman in the stories often had to restrain his strength, how a moment of unchecked emotion could lead to disaster. He would have to be careful. Very careful.
"What kind of help can you give me?" Clark asked, eager to know more. "I mean… how do I train for this? I don't even know where to begin."
[For now, I will provide you with basic guidelines on how to regulate your strength and senses as they emerge. Each ability will require its own form of training. In time, I will unlock more advanced modules tailored to your growth.]
Clark felt the first flickers of hope rise within him. This was good. He wasn't alone in this journey.
"And my powers? How do I control them? I don't want to hurt anyone—especially not the Kents."
[Your abilities are directly influenced by the Earth's yellow sun, which will continue to strengthen you as you grow. The key to controlling them is awareness. You must learn to sense the limits of your strength and consciously pull back before you reach them. I will help you practice control exercises, starting with your basic strength, speed, and senses.]
Clark took a deep breath, letting the information sink in. The idea that he would eventually have the power to bend steel and leap tall buildings was mind-boggling, but what struck him more was the responsibility that came with those powers. He would have to be the one to ensure they were used correctly.
"Alright," Clark thought, feeling a sense of resolve settle over him. "Let's take this one step at a time. I'm ready to learn."
[Acknowledged. Your training will begin soon, but for now, rest. You have a long journey ahead, Kal-El.]
As the system went silent, Clark lay back, staring up at the ceiling once again. His heart was still racing, but now, it wasn't just from fear. There was excitement too—excitement at the possibilities of what he could become. He had always dreamed of being Superman, and now that dream was his reality.
---
Meanwhile
Jonathan and Martha sat together at the kitchen table. Their faces looked trouble.
The discovery of a mysterious spaceship in the middle of their cornfield was the beginning of a life-changing event for Jonathan and Martha Kent. And raising a child who had literally fallen from the sky came with complications—complications that the Kents, simple farmers from Smallville, were not equipped to handle on their own. They needed help, and they needed it quickly, if they were going to keep this incredible secret safe.
"What are we going to do, Jonathan?" Martha asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "We can't just keep him here without any explanation. People will ask questions."
Jonathan nodded, his mind racing. "I know, Martha. But who can we trust with something like this? We can't just go to the authorities."
Martha hesitated, then spoke the name that had been lingering in the back of her mind. "What about Lionel Luthor?"
Jonathan's expression darkened at the mention of the name. Lionel Luthor was a powerful and ruthless businessman, known throughout Kansas for his vast wealth and influence. He was not a man Jonathan would ever consider trusting under normal circumstances, but there was no denying that Lionel owed him a favor—a favor that might be the only way to secure a future for the child.
Years earlier, Jonathan had saved Lionel's life during a farming accident, and in return, Lionel had promised to repay the debt whenever Jonathan needed it. Until now, Jonathan had never considered calling in that favor, but the situation with the child left him with little choice.
"I don't like the idea of involving Lionel in this," Jonathan said slowly. "But you're right, Martha. We don't have many options. If anyone can help us make this official without raising suspicion, it's him."
Martha reached out and took Jonathan's hand. "We have to do what's best for the child, Jonathan. We have to protect him."
Jonathan nodded, his resolve firming. "I'll go see Lionel tomorrow."
---
The next morning
Jonathan drove to Metropolis, the bustling city where Lionel Luthor's corporate empire was headquartered. The skyscrapers loomed overhead as he navigated through the busy streets, his heart heavy with the burden of the task ahead.
Lionel's office was in the top floor of LuthorCorp Tower, a gleaming structure that symbolized the man's power and influence. Jonathan felt out of place as he entered the building, but his determination to protect the child gave him the strength to push forward.
When Jonathan was finally shown into Lionel's office, the contrast between the two men couldn't have been more stark. Lionel, with his expensive suit and calculating eyes, stood behind his massive desk, looking every bit the powerful tycoon. Jonathan, in his simple work clothes, was a man of the earth, honest and straightforward.
"Jonathan Kent," Lionel greeted him with a cool smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
Jonathan didn't waste time with pleasantries. "I'm here to ask for that favor you owe me, Lionel. I need your help."
Lionel's eyes narrowed with interest. "Ah, yes. The favor. I wondered when you might come to collect. Tell me, what could a simple farmer from Smallville need from someone like me?"
Jonathan hesitated, then decided to be as honest as he could without revealing too much. "Martha and I have found a child—a child who has no one. We want to adopt him, but we can't go through the usual channels. It's complicated."
Lionel studied Jonathan for a moment, his sharp mind working through the implications of what he was hearing. "You want me to produce forged paperwork to make it appear as though this child is legally yours," he said, his tone both amused and intrigued.
Jonathan nodded. "Yes. I know it's not the most honest way to do things, but we need to protect him. He's… special—for us."
Lionel's smile widened, sensing the gravity of the situation. "Very well, Jonathan. I'll help you. Consider the debt repaid."
Jonathan felt a wave of relief, though he knew better than to trust Lionel completely. "Thank you."
Lionel waved his hand dismissively. "You're welcome. Now, let's discuss the details."
---
Within a few days, Lionel had produced the necessary paperwork. The documents were flawless, crafted with the skill and resources that only a man like Lionel could command. They showed that Jonathan and Martha Kent had legally adopted the child, who was now officially named Clark Kent—Clark, after Martha's maiden name.
Lionel had also suggested a birthdate for the child: May 13, 1987. The date was chosen arbitrarily, but it would now be the day they celebrated Clark's birthday every year.
With the adoption paperwork in place and Clark officially a member of their family, the Kents settled into their new life. They knew that raising Clark would be a challenge, but it was a challenge they were more than willing to take on. They had been given a gift—a gift that came with great responsibility—but they were confident in their ability to guide Clark on the right path.
As the months passed, Clark continued to grow and thrive under the Kents' care.
His bond with Jonathan and Martha grew stronger with each passing day. He was their son, in every way that mattered, and they were determined to protect him and nurture him as he discovered his place in the world.