Ficlet: Shed Like a Skin | Superman Returns/Movieverse | Kal-El, Jor-El | PG-13 | 1/1
Title: Shed Like a Skin
Fandom: Superman Returns/Movieverse
Characters: Kal-El, Jor-El
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 781
Prompt: For au_bingo: Other: Evil Goateed Universe
Summary: Jor-El never would have told him the truth, Kal is certain.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. The schmucks.
Author's Notes: Here it is at last, my evil AU plot bunny spinning off of General (in which Zod raped Lara). So, this is technically Aftermath-verse AU, pre-movies. ETA: (3/11/11) Shed Like a Skin has been recced here as a Mods' Honorable Mention for Round 1 of au_bingo! :D Thank you, au_bingo_mods!
Shed Like a Skin
Somehow, the image projected in the crystal isn't what Kal expected. He expected someone more... charming. Not this 'General', with his disdainful gaze, horrifying expression, and-
And a beard, of all things.
Kal hasn't been able to grow facial hair to save his life, which is saying a lot, considering he's twenty-two and counting. If he's lucky, the gene is recessive. If not... well, he's just going to have to stock up on hand-mirrors, because he is not going to be rocking that look any time soon.
No, he's perfectly content to remain smooth-faced for the foreseeable future.
Would have been more content to not have ever learned that this... this bastard was his father.
Heh. Considering he's the bastard here, he supposes the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. But that thought just makes him want to gouge out his own eyes. Zod was the absolute worst Krypton had to offer, and now here Kal stands, the only survivor of a doomed world, the son of the vilest megalomaniac this side of the Milky Way.
He'd scream if he thought it would make him feel any better. How could this man be his father? This truth is more devastating to him than the death of Jonathan Kent was to the boy he'd once been.
On the other hand....
No! There is no other hand.
Valiantly trying to suppress the voice that's lived inside his head for years now, making wry commentary and bad-mouthing everyone, Kal shuts down the program, makes that disgusting image disappear. Only, the face of his father-his true father-is seared onto his retinas now. All he can see is that sneer, those eyes, deep and powerful, brooking no opposition, and-
The image of Jor-El, still loitering around the edges of the main chamber of the Fortress, looks on him sadly. “I had not intended for you to discover the truth this way, my son.”
Kal scowls at the image of Jor-El. “You never would've told me, would you?” It's an accusation, certainly. He's positive Jor-El would never have told him; discovering his own origin through a private program his mother left for him in secret makes that fact clear.
The stony silence from the projection of the man he'd always believed was his birth father clinches it.
“You couldn't even tell me the truth,” he goes on. “You've lied to me my whole life! From where I stand, that makes you just as bad as him.”
“Why would you compare me to one such as Zod? I have committed no crime. I saved your life, Kal-El!”
“So!?” Kal screams, his blood starting to boil and his hands curling into fists. The voice inside him rises up stronger and more powerful than he expected, weakening his resolve against it. “Zod may have been the vilest creature to ever live, but he was my father. I carry his blood in my veins, and when you disparage his name, you disparage me.”
The image of Jor-El pauses, a frown pulling his features into a grotesque parody of concern. “I mean nothing of the sort, Kal-El. Yes, you carry the blood of Dru-Zod, but you have always been my son. No matter your genetic heritage, you are Kryptonian, and you bear the crest of the House of El, the house that helped bring peace to Krypton. Your purpose has not changed.”
But Jor-El's speech hits the mark in a way that was never intended, snapping the last thread of hope Kal had to avoid this. “My purpose!?” he spits, seething as the voice in his head screams even louder, calling Jor-El things he might have never said out loud. The voice has taken over, and Kal is powerless against it, welcoming it, hiding in its great, dark shadow. “You should have killed me before I even had the chance to be born!”
“My son-”
“No!” Kal cuts him off. “You were never my father! And this-” he pauses, fingers grasping and tightening over the crest emblazoned on his chest, “was never meant to be mine!”
With a rip, the emblem is torn from his suit as certainly as if he'd never worn it. Six months gone, a lifetime of assumptions ripped away, shed like a skin that always was a little too tight.
It was never mine. Never.
“Kal-El, please-”
A single burst of fire from his eyes, fury and heat at the name he'd so long believed was his own, and the crystalline projection explodes in a shower of tiny fragments, the machinery and inner workings of the Fortress are fried, destroyed. It's beautiful, frightening, and such a relief, he feels like singing. If only... if only his father was here to see it.
You've done well, my son, the voice in his head helpfully supplies. And that, too, is a relief; the voice is his.
Kal turns away from the central chamber, reborn.
“My name is Kal-Zod.”
~*~*~*~
Fandom: Superman Returns/Movieverse
Characters: Kal-El, Jor-El
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 781
Prompt: For au_bingo: Other: Evil Goateed Universe
Summary: Jor-El never would have told him the truth, Kal is certain.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. The schmucks.
Author's Notes: Here it is at last, my evil AU plot bunny spinning off of General (in which Zod raped Lara). So, this is technically Aftermath-verse AU, pre-movies. ETA: (3/11/11) Shed Like a Skin has been recced here as a Mods' Honorable Mention for Round 1 of au_bingo! :D Thank you, au_bingo_mods!
Shed Like a Skin
Somehow, the image projected in the crystal isn't what Kal expected. He expected someone more... charming. Not this 'General', with his disdainful gaze, horrifying expression, and-
And a beard, of all things.
Kal hasn't been able to grow facial hair to save his life, which is saying a lot, considering he's twenty-two and counting. If he's lucky, the gene is recessive. If not... well, he's just going to have to stock up on hand-mirrors, because he is not going to be rocking that look any time soon.
No, he's perfectly content to remain smooth-faced for the foreseeable future.
Would have been more content to not have ever learned that this... this bastard was his father.
Heh. Considering he's the bastard here, he supposes the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. But that thought just makes him want to gouge out his own eyes. Zod was the absolute worst Krypton had to offer, and now here Kal stands, the only survivor of a doomed world, the son of the vilest megalomaniac this side of the Milky Way.
He'd scream if he thought it would make him feel any better. How could this man be his father? This truth is more devastating to him than the death of Jonathan Kent was to the boy he'd once been.
On the other hand....
No! There is no other hand.
Valiantly trying to suppress the voice that's lived inside his head for years now, making wry commentary and bad-mouthing everyone, Kal shuts down the program, makes that disgusting image disappear. Only, the face of his father-his true father-is seared onto his retinas now. All he can see is that sneer, those eyes, deep and powerful, brooking no opposition, and-
The image of Jor-El, still loitering around the edges of the main chamber of the Fortress, looks on him sadly. “I had not intended for you to discover the truth this way, my son.”
Kal scowls at the image of Jor-El. “You never would've told me, would you?” It's an accusation, certainly. He's positive Jor-El would never have told him; discovering his own origin through a private program his mother left for him in secret makes that fact clear.
The stony silence from the projection of the man he'd always believed was his birth father clinches it.
“You couldn't even tell me the truth,” he goes on. “You've lied to me my whole life! From where I stand, that makes you just as bad as him.”
“Why would you compare me to one such as Zod? I have committed no crime. I saved your life, Kal-El!”
“So!?” Kal screams, his blood starting to boil and his hands curling into fists. The voice inside him rises up stronger and more powerful than he expected, weakening his resolve against it. “Zod may have been the vilest creature to ever live, but he was my father. I carry his blood in my veins, and when you disparage his name, you disparage me.”
The image of Jor-El pauses, a frown pulling his features into a grotesque parody of concern. “I mean nothing of the sort, Kal-El. Yes, you carry the blood of Dru-Zod, but you have always been my son. No matter your genetic heritage, you are Kryptonian, and you bear the crest of the House of El, the house that helped bring peace to Krypton. Your purpose has not changed.”
But Jor-El's speech hits the mark in a way that was never intended, snapping the last thread of hope Kal had to avoid this. “My purpose!?” he spits, seething as the voice in his head screams even louder, calling Jor-El things he might have never said out loud. The voice has taken over, and Kal is powerless against it, welcoming it, hiding in its great, dark shadow. “You should have killed me before I even had the chance to be born!”
“My son-”
“No!” Kal cuts him off. “You were never my father! And this-” he pauses, fingers grasping and tightening over the crest emblazoned on his chest, “was never meant to be mine!”
With a rip, the emblem is torn from his suit as certainly as if he'd never worn it. Six months gone, a lifetime of assumptions ripped away, shed like a skin that always was a little too tight.
It was never mine. Never.
“Kal-El, please-”
A single burst of fire from his eyes, fury and heat at the name he'd so long believed was his own, and the crystalline projection explodes in a shower of tiny fragments, the machinery and inner workings of the Fortress are fried, destroyed. It's beautiful, frightening, and such a relief, he feels like singing. If only... if only his father was here to see it.
You've done well, my son, the voice in his head helpfully supplies. And that, too, is a relief; the voice is his.
Kal turns away from the central chamber, reborn.
“My name is Kal-Zod.”
~*~*~*~