On Mars
After a warm and laughter-filled dinner with Diana and the Amazons, Clark had bid them farewell, leaving Themyscira behind as he made his way to Mars.
The stars burned brightly in the Martian night, their light spilling across a desolate world that was slowly waking from its eons-long slumber. The air was thin, cold, and silent, broken only by the faint hum of terraforming machines working in the distance, which only he, who has super-hearing, could hear.
Standing amidst the red plains, Clark took in the view. The faint green of moss clinging to ancient rock formations and the glimmer of water pooling in low-lying areas reminded him of the work underway. He had seen this planet in his visions of the past, and now he stood as part of its future—a revitalization effort that carried hope for life beyond Earth.
Tonight wasn't about admiring progress, though. Tonight was about power, precision, and testing his Kryptonian body in ways simulations couldn't replicate.
Clark knelt by a massive boulder, his fingers digging into the coarse Martian stone. The rock was as tall as a skyscraper and weighed more than 100,000 tons, a weight that would collapse the strongest human machinery. For Clark, it was the perfect challenge.
Clark steadied himself, gripping the massive boulder that dwarfed him in size, its sheer weight pressing against his Kryptonian strength. With a sharp exhale, he bent his knees and hurled the boulder skyward. The colossal stone shot through the thin Martian atmosphere like a comet, leaving a faint trail in its wake.
But Clark didn't let it crash. In a blur, he sprinted across the rocky plains, covering miles in mere seconds. Dust and pebbles kicked up with every step as he positioned himself beneath the descending boulder. Timing it perfectly, he caught the massive stone with both hands, the force of its fall absorbed effortlessly by his frame. His muscles flexed, his stance adjusted, and with a quick pivot, he launched it skyward once again.
The boulder arced high into the Martian sky, its ascent cutting through the starlight. Once more, Clark bolted across the terrain, his boots barely grazing the surface as he raced to intercept it. His speed created a gust of wind that swept across the plains, scattering loose dust in his wake. He stopped just in time to brace himself as the boulder descended, catching it with the same precision as before. Without pausing, he threw it upward a third time, watching it vanish momentarily into the night sky.
Clark watched as it climbed, reaching its peak and starting its descent for the third time. Instead of racing off again, he remained where he was, waiting calmly for the stone to fall back toward him. When it finally arrived, he caught it with practiced precision, his boots sinking slightly into the soil as he absorbed the force. This time, he didn't throw it back. Carefully, Clark lowered the massive boulder, placing it gently onto the ground.
He stepped back, brushing his hands against his pants. The boulder sat undisturbed, ready for the next round of training. "You'll do for now," he muttered with a small grin.
He turned his gaze to the distant mountain range. Its rugged peaks stood untouched, bold against the horizon. With a single step, Clark launched himself into the air, his leap sending a powerful gust across the plains. He landed at the base of one of the tall peak, his impact leaving a deep imprint in the soil.
Placing his hands firmly on the rocky surface, Clark began to lift. The mountain groaned in protest, the sound of cracking stone filling the air. Bit by bit, it rose, its colossal weight testing the full extent of Clark's Kryptonian strength.
The resistance was exhilarating. Every muscle in his body worked in unison, his mind focused entirely on the task. When the mountain finally cleared the ground, suspended above him, he held it steady for a moment, savoring the triumph.
Then, with a surge of power, he threw it across the Martian landscape. The mountain tumbled through the air like an asteroid, disappearing into the distance.
As it reached the highest point and started to fall, Clark's eyes turned red, gazing at the mountain, and unleashed the full force of superheat vision.
PZZZZZZZZZZAT
The mountain, which was shrouded in an enormous red energy beam, melted and crumbled into dust before it could crash down on the surface of Mars.
Satisfied with his strength training, Clark turned his focus to speed. Standing at the edge of the terraforming zone, he set his sights on a distant outpost, 10,000 miles away. A grin tugged at his lips.
He leaned forward, his body taut with anticipation. Then, with a sharp burst of energy, he was gone.
The Martian plains blurred into streaks of red and gold as he raced across the surface, the air whipping past him with an intensity that would have torn any human to shreds. At speeds reaching 900 Mach, Clark felt alive in a way he couldn't describe. Every step carried him over vast distances, his movements sending ripples through the thin atmosphere.
Obstacles loomed ahead—deep craters and jagged cliffs—but Clark weaved through them with precision, leaping over gaps with ease. The journey took almost a minute, his path marked by a trail of faint sonic booms.
As he reached the outpost, he skidded to a stop, his boots digging into the ground. A cloud of dust rose around him, but he waved it aside casually, his breathing steady despite the exertion.
"Faster," he muttered, his grin widening. "Still not fast enough."
.........
Clark returned to the central hub of the terraforming project, standing atop a high plateau overlooking the vast machinery and bio-domes scattered across the Martian plains. The quiet hum of the equipment and the faint glimmer of the newly forming atmosphere filled him with a sense of accomplishment.
25% of Mars was now livable. The oxygen levels were stabilizing, the beginnings of vegetation were taking root, and the once-dead planet was stirring back to life.
Clark folded his arms, his gaze sweeping across the horizon.
The Martian night stretched out like a vast canvas, the stars above shimmering cold and distant. The barren landscape of Mars lay before him, a world marked by history and loss, though few now remembered its story.
Clark's expression remained calm. He already knew the tale of this planet, its rise and fall, through the extensive DC Database provided by his Superman Supporting System (SS). But tonight, he sought to witness it firsthand, not through fragmented text or theory, but through the Chrono Vision, a skill that allowed him to step into the echoes of time.
"SS," Clark said evenly, his voice cutting through the stillness. "Activate Chrono Vision. Focus on the most pivotal events leading to the destruction of Mars's civilizations."
[Acknowledged. Initializing 'Chrono Vision.' Synchronizing with Mars's temporal signatures.]
The system replied in its precise, neutral tone.
The air around Clark shimmered. The rugged, lifeless terrain blurred and twisted as time began to peel back its layers. Colors deepened, sounds stirred in the stillness, and the Mars of the past came alive.
.....
Clark found himself standing in the heart of a Martian metropolis, its brilliance unfolding around him. Towering structures of iridescent material reflected the golden hues of a dense, living atmosphere. Streams of energy, glowing softly, ran through the city like veins, connecting its parts in perfect harmony.
The Green Martians moved gracefully, their elongated forms exuding an air of calm intelligence. Their civilization thrived on a delicate balance between technology and nature, a symbiotic relationship that allowed their cities to grow organically from the land. Among them, the White Martians walked with equal grace, their alabaster features contrasting starkly with their green counterparts.
Clark marveled at the clarity of the vision. Every detail—from the distant hum of machinery to the psychic energy radiating faintly from the Martians—was vivid and immersive.
"This is like re-living in the history," Clark murmured to himself. "The memory of their lives, their world, captured as it was so realistically."
Despite the city's magnificence, Clark's gaze was drawn to subtle signs of discord. Groups of White Martians gathered in tight clusters, their conversations hushed but intense. The Green Martians, for their part, moved with measured deliberation, their interactions with the White Martians cordial yet distant. The seeds of division were evident even in the midst of apparent unity.
The vision shifted, jumping forward in time. The once-shared spaces of the city were now divided. Propaganda filled the planet, with messages from both factions accusing the other of betrayal and greed. Education shifted to fearmongering; children of both races were taught to distrust, then to hate.
"This is the turning point," Clark thought. "The moment where understanding could have prevailed but didn't."
Time advanced again, and Clark stood amidst the chaos of war. The Martian plains, once lush and teeming with life, were now battlefields. Armies of Green and White Martians clashed, their advanced technology turned into instruments of devastation. Energy blasts illuminated the darkened sky, and the ground trembled with the weight of destruction.
The sheer scale of the destruction—the leveled cities, the charred forests, the shattered bonds between once-allied peoples—was staggering.
"This wasn't inevitable," Clark thought. "They chose this path, step by step."
The final vision unfolded. In their desperation to end the conflict, the Martians deployed the H'ronmeer's Curse, a bioweapon designed to exploit their racial fear of fire. Clark stood at the center of a launch site as the device activated, releasing a pulsating wave of energy that swept across the planet.
Flames erupted wherever the wave touched, consuming both Green and White Martians alike. The cries of terror and pain echoed in the vision, the bioweapon sparing no one. Cities crumbled, forests burned, and the once-thriving Mars was reduced to a lifeless wasteland.
Clark remained composed, though his gaze lingered on the devastation. He had known this was coming, yet the realism of the vision—the rawness of the emotions it captured—was sobering.
The shimmering vision dissolved, and Clark found himself back on the plateau. The cold, still air of the Martian night enveloped him once more, a stark contrast to the chaos he had just witnessed.
[Chrono Vision deactivated. Cooldown period initiated. Skill will be available for reuse in 72 hours,] the SS system informed him.
Clark stood quietly, his hands resting loosely at his sides.
"The level of detail is astounding," he muttered. "It's not just a skill for seeing the past—it's a tool for understanding it."
"SS," Clark said after a moment, "compile all observations. Focus on the cultural dynamics, technological innovations, and environmental strategies that could be adapted for Earth and the terraforming project."
[Acknowledged. Data compilation in progress. Recommendations will be available shortly,] the system replied.
The Martians' downfall wasn't just a cautionary tale—it was a blueprint of what to avoid. Fear and division had undone them, but their achievements in science and environmental harmony were lessons worth preserving.
"They let fear destroy them," Clark said softly. His gaze drifted toward the terraforming machinery humming steadily in the distance. "But Earth doesn't have to follow the same path."
Then, breaking the stillness, a voice echoed in his mind—calm and resonant.
"Yes, I hope it doesn't."
Clark froze. The voice hadn't come from his SS system, nor had it been spoken aloud. It was something else entirely, reaching directly into his thoughts. Slowly, he turned, his enhanced senses already honing in on the source.
Hovering a few feet off the ground was a figure shrouded in the faint green glow of the Martian atmosphere. He was tall, his silhouette lean but powerfully built, draped in a short, flowing cape that shifted gently as he moved. His skin was a deep emerald, its smooth surface catching the starlight. A series of faint markings, like ancient symbols etched into his being, adorned his forearms and chest. His piercing red eyes seemed to glow faintly, and his gaze carried an intensity that made it impossible to look away.
The figure descended gracefully, his bare feet touching the red soil without a sound. His long limbs moved with measured precision. An aura of calm strength emanated from him, as if he were a creature who had seen countless years yet carried them without burden.
As Clark stared at the stranger, the voice entered his mind again, serene and unwavering.
"You are here earlier than the appointed time, Kal-El."
Clark's lips curved into a smile. The wariness that had sparked in his chest dissipated, replaced by familiarity. He straightened, the Martian soil crunching softly under his boots as he turned fully to face the figure.
"Hi, J'onn," he said, his tone light but carrying a note of genuine welcome.
...............