The Legend of Superman

Disclaimer- Characters within this work are not of my creation, and are property of DC Comics.

Issue One: Quiet Town, U.S.A.

Smallville, Kansas. October 12th, 1979:

Johnathan Kent dropped into a low crouch and took a damp, red-plaid handkerchief from a pocket in his overalls; he wiped a significant amount of sweat from his forehead, then slipped the small cloth back into a back pocket, leaving a corner hanging out, mainly for easy future reach, but he also thought it made him look a bit more like a farmer. Of course, he was surrounded by acres of newly-purchased farmland, but nonetheless, he wanted to look the part. If Johnathan could take any of his father's lesson's to heart, it was that "owning somethin' don't mean you're an expert"; farming was no exception.

When he had co-signed the deed with his wife, Martha, he knew they were in for a rough first couple of years; he knew the very basics of farming, and figured that the rest would come to him naturally, once he got enough practice. Unfortunately, they had owned the farm for two-and-a-half-months, and that just wasn't happening. For six hours now, he had been attempting to dig holes in order to put a new fence around the property; key word, "attempting". Though he had put his sweat and tears into this project, all he was left with was the sweat and tears. The posts for the new fence stood awkwardly in their foundations, and the soil was very rocky, making the digging go much slower. A number of times, he had hit large rocks, sending painful vibrations up the tool he was using. All in all, the process was frustrating, and the sun was dropping quickly in the sky.

"Screw it," Johnathan muttered, and threw down his work gloves next to the current pit he was digging. He wouldn't get much work done anyway... might as well get a fresh start in the morning. Johnathan turned toward the largest building on the property, the one that served as a home for him and Martha. Admittedly, it wasn't much at the moment, but like the rest of the farm, he planned on fixing it up. However, much like the rest of the property it was unfinished, with gaping holes in some of the downstairs ceilings; the roof also needed to be re-shingled, as it leaked like a drunk with twelve beers in his belly.

Johnathan continued up the dirt path that served as driveway, trying his best to wipe excess dirt off of his overalls. Large chunks of mud, churned up from his digging, clung to his pants, and although he got most of it off, it still looked like he had stolen second a couple of times. To tell the truth, Johnathan wasn't all that used to having dirt on his hands, but he was quickly getting used to it; in the farm business, dirt came with the package... "if you can't stand the dirt, you probably shouldn't become a farmer" were the exact words the real estate salesman had posed to him as he signed the papers. Actually, much like the handkerchief hanging out of his back pocket, he thought the dirt made him look gruff, and even ruggedly sexy; for a guy who used to wear glasses when he was a kid, he welcomed the chance at a new look.

As he reached the end of the driveway, he stopped and took in the scene. The sun just barely peaked the top of the roof, but it gave everything a homely sort of quality; Johnathan noticed that the beginnings of his wife's garden were wonderfully accented by the beams of light. The bright red barn a bit of a way west of the house also looked pretty good from this angle; that paint job (one of the few jobs he had managed to completely finish) was definitely worth the time and effort he put into it.

Although Johnathan didn't mind putting in a hard day's work, the past few weeks had been murder on his back; although he was only a young man of twenty-seven, he had already struggled with back problems, mainly as a result of working for his uncle's moving business for four years. Not only was Johnathan doing twelve or thirteen hours of work a day, he was doing it alone. Martha did her share of work around the house, but he was always worried about her condition, and tried to limit the amount of tough labor she did... it just wouldn't be good for the baby.

At four-and-a-half months, Martha was beginning to truly show that she was pregnant, her belly expanding and her breasts rounding; Johnathan was also noticing a vast change in her demeanor over the course of her pregnancy. Martha was normally a happy woman, but she was never like this; every day she smiled as if she had won the lottery, beaming as she made him a hearty breakfast, or tended to her garden. Even a few of her friends had commented at the change; it was as if all her dreams had come true. "And maybe they had," Johnathan smiled. Although the house leaked and looked as if the builders had just stopped before they finished their work and Johnathan was incredibly busy with his work, they were happy. The first few years in Hutchinson had been good, but they had also been rife with struggle; saving up to buy a farm house isn't very easy, especially when you had to work two jobs to accomplish the task.

Back then, they had fought sporadically, and their marriage had been on the verge of collapsing; but, when Johnathan's uncle had left him 150,000 dollars, everything changed. They immediately bought the spacious farm in Martha's hometown, almost disregarding the fact that it needed a lot of work. On their tour through the dusty rooms of the house, the hay covered floors of the barn, it had just felt right... like home. Now, the dust was gone from the floors, and it actually felt like someone lived there; unless, of course, you happened to look up.

Johnathan walked over to the pen that stood across from the house, leaning over the railing and surveying the rest of the property. The fence he was resting on was a part of the cattle pen (actually one of the only completed parts of the farm, other than the barn), and he thought ahead to the cattle they would buy. Johnathan had lined up an appointment with another farmer next week, and he thought that would be the perfect time to purchase something that made him think of an actual working farm. Of course, getting the Kent Farm up and running was a few months away, but he wanted to start getting the pieces together as early as he could.

As he leaned over the fence, he had the thought that he should pick out a strand of grass to chew on, in order to complete his hard-working farmer image, but he was interrupted by a loud scream from inside the house. "Martha!" Johnathan shouted, and he turned and ran full speed toward the house, the handkerchief in his back pocket falling out onto the dirt. He hardly noticed as he leaped the picket fence, not wasting time to open it, and ran up the steps, flinging open the door (which opened into the kitchen on the right, and the living room on the right). Johnathan's eyes frantically searched the room for his wife, and after a few seconds, he noticed one of his wife's legs, sprawled out from behind the kitchen island. He ran to her, kneeling by her side; a glass bottle of milk lay shattered on the floor near the sink, and Martha lay next to the spreading pool of milk.

"Martha! Martha! Are you alright!" Johnathan reached out and felt her pulse; still strong and steady, a very good sign. Martha was still not responding to his calls, so he felt along her body for any cuts or if she had hit her head when she fell. Seeing none, he put one of his hands on her thigh, and the other he used to brush the blond hair from her eyes.

"Honey? Honey? Can you hear me?" He rubbed her cheek, and her eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Johnathan?" Raising her head slightly, she looked around the room, pausing for a second at the broken bottle a few feet away from her. "Oh, I must have..." Her voice trailed away, and Johnathan gripped her hand with his.

"It's ok, honey, you must have fainted... it must have been the heat, or something..." Johnathan hesitated at that last part, not really believing it. To be honest, the only thing he was thinking about was the baby; that fall must not have been good for it.

Smiling faintly, Martha gripped his hand tightly and started to get up; when she reached her feet, Johnathan put a hand around her waist and directed her to an armchair, gently lowering her onto it. Making sure that she was settled, he turned and went to clean up the broken glass from the kitchen floor. He reached over the sink and went to grab the roll of paper towels over the sink, but he stopped suddenly.

As he reached over the sink, Johnathan had noticed the blood on the back of his hand, causing him to survey the rest of the kitchen. A small pool of blood had gathered where Martha had fallen, and the sight seemed to stop his heart. All of his worst fears came into his imagination, and he gripped the counter to stop himself from falling.

When he got his balance back, he rushed over to Martha. She had both hands, covered in blood, in front of her face. Her look was one of absolute horror, and the sight chilled Johnathan to the bone; if there was one face he hoped he would never see on her beautiful face, it was this one, and he almost screamed out in anger. This anger wasn't aimed in any particular direction, but if Johnathan calmed down enough to realize it, he was probably blaming God. These thoughts weren't exactly rational, but when faced with situations of extreme difficulty, a lot of people lose their sense of rationality.

Hearing Martha crying snapped Johnathan out of his short trance, and he crouched down beside her, wrapping his arms around her, trying his best to console her. At this time, he also looked down toward her flower-printed skirt, which was also covered in blood; seeing this, Johnathan lost all hope that the fall hadn't hurt the baby. He knew it; in some far corner of his mind, he just knew that something terrible had happened.

Johnathan always thought of himself as a man of action, and he picked his weeping wife up and started toward the door. Taking quick peeks at her heart-broken face, he realized she had come to the same conclusion that he had. He wanted to stop, to put her down and hold her tight; he wanted to be there for her, but he realized that the best he could do was to take her as fast as possible to the hospital. And so he did; Johnathan managed to open the front gate, and he half-walked, half-ran to the rusty red pick-up truck. Placing Martha in the passenger seat as softly as possible, he closed the door and ran around to the other side, quickly starting the engine. Johnathan peeled out of the driveway, leaving a massive trail of dust behind the truck.

Although he really wasn't paying attention to it, had he looked down at the speed-o-meter, he would have seen that he was going 75 the whole way to the hospital.

xxxxxxx

As they both had feared, the news was not good. Martha had a miscarriage, and the baby was lost. The doctor had wanted to keep her overnight for some additional observation, but Martha wanted to sleep in her own bed; and, when Martha really wanted something, she usually got it. The doctor had finally let her leave, after getting her to promise to return the next afternoon for a follow-up. He gave his condolences, and walked back through large swinging doors to tend to another patient.

xxxxxxx

The ride home began as a quiet one, with neither Johnathan or Martha saying much of anything to each other. The events of the early evening had shook them both, and they both were trying to gather their thoughts, their emotions. A full moon lit the sky, and it gave the ride an eerie quality; Johnathan thought to himself that it seemed like he was in a horror movie... some horrible, frightening horror movie. The silence was deafening.

Reading the moment, Martha reached over and flipped on the radio. The sounds of the local news-radio program filled the car.

"...that's right, Carol. In other news, it looks like Smallville will get a special gift tonight: in the form of a meteor shower. That's right, folks, Smallville, Kansas will be treated to their first meteor shower since 1944! Wake the kids, get on those fall coats and sweaters, and stake out a place on the front lawn to witness this incredible event take place. It may not happen for a while!

"In other news, traffic on Interstate 13 was backed up for hours due to a tractor-trailer that flipped over. No injuries are reported, although many local residents were not all that happy. The time is 2:46 am, and this is your spot for all the news that's going round the grapevine. This is David Ranch, with Smallville Radio, 100.06 AM. We'll be back after the following announcements with the sports."

"In need of automotive supplies? Look no further than Higgins Auto-Supplies, Smallville's one-stop shop for all your automotive needs..." Johnathan tuned out the intrusive sound of the radio, and looked at the thousands of stars in the night sky. Normally, he could have stared at this scene for hours, taking the expanse of the universe in, lost in his thoughts; however, he just couldn't think tonight. It was too difficult a task.

Johnathan looked over at Martha, who was solemnly staring out the passenger window, watching the trees whip by. He forced a smile, even though she couldn't see it, and turned back to the road.

A huge explosion of dirt and gravel leaped up, twenty feet in front of the truck, tearing a sideways path across the road. Johnathan slammed on the brakes, and he could sense Martha brace herself. The truck crashed over and into the gash in the highway, with the front of the truck slamming into the bottom of the unusual pit.

xxxxxxx

When Johnathan woke up, his head throbbed like someone had hit him with a baseball bat. He looked around the truck, checking to see if Martha was alright, but she was nowhere to be seen. He glanced at the windshield, thinking she might have been thrown through it ("God forbid"), but it was only cracked. He then noticed the passenger side door was hanging open, and he quickly unbuckled himself and pushed his door open. It took several hard shoves, but Johnathan managed to get it open. He stepped out into the dirt, noticing the small trail of fire that traced the edge of the hole.

Strike that. To Johnathan, it seemed more like a trench than a hole, as if a piece of the landscape from World War I had fallen through time. Johnathan half expected to see soldiers dressed in tan uniforms, their bodies spread in horrific positions of macabre. Of course, the trench was empty, but that didn't exactly make Johnathan feel any better about the situation.

He climbed over the hood of the truck, which had a great deal of damage, and he jumped down to the other side. Johnathan stood for a second to stare at the length of the trench. It seemed to him that it went on for miles, as if someone had cut a swatch of earth from the county-side. He also noticed that a path of footprints were visible in the dirt and gravel. Martha's.

Johnathan followed her tracks for what seemed like an eternity, although in actuality, it was more like two-and-a-half minutes. As he went further, he noticed that a bit of smoke was floating through the trench, making it difficult to see. Because of this, he didn't see the piece of metal on the trench floor, and he tripped over it, crashing to the dirt floor. Already dirty from his early chores, dirt now caked his face, like a mask. "Martha might have tripped on that thing," he thought, and he frantically searched around the trench for any sign of her. After all, she had been through enough tonight, and the last thing she needed was to cut herself on a piece of metal or trip over it.

Johnathan slowly got to his feet and steadied himself, then pushed further on. After a few seconds, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight in front of him. A large metal object lay at the apparent end of the trench, and to him it looked a lot like a space ship from one of the sci fi movies he and Martha had went to when they were dating. He inched closer, and placed his hand on the exterior of the ship, expecting that he would be burned by it.

Surprisingly, it was cool to the touch, and he ran his hands across the surface, feeling the strange metal under his hands. Johnathan was entranced by the object, and he noted the strange markings on what he assumed was the hull of the strange ship. His fingertips traced the slight dip that the letters made, trying his best to remember the shape. Johnathan spent a few seconds doing this, and might have spent more if he hadn't been tapped on the shoulder. He swung around to find his wife... holding a baby boy.

Upcoming Issue: A Gift from the Sky