Archangel Investigations: Pilot

by Creedog VanDrey

Category: Smallville

Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor

Rating: K+

Language: English

Summery: The Champions of Kal-El decide to make use of their powers by opening a detective agency.

Spoilers: Nothing from the show, but it wouldn’t hurt to read “Champions of Kal-El” first.

A/N: Okay, fans of mine, please listen, because I’m about to tell you something you’re probably not going to like. I promised you a companion fic to “The Champions of Kal-El.” I even set it up in the last chapter. However, I’m not getting enough inspiration for that fic to write it all, so I’ve come up with a compromise. This is “Archangel Investigations,” a fic that fits into the CoKE universe. And it will feature flashbacks to what would have been the sequel to “CoKE.” Hopefully, this will work out better than if had I tried to have done CoKE II. And don’t expect to understand everything that goes on in the flashbacks. The puzzle pieces will assemble themselves in time.

Anyway, as you’ll soon find out, the pilot is a sort of crossover with Angel, as will be a few of the future episodes. I’m not claiming to be Whedon, but I hope to possibly recreate some of his humor. So, enjoy.

Update: I noticed a distinct lack of interest in this episode, and I realized that’s probably because it’s very confusing to those who haven’t read “The Champions of Kal-El”, so I’ve added quite a bit of recapping to this story for my readers’ sake. I still recommend you read CoKE, because it’s my job to shameless plug my own work, but now, you shouldn’t be lost even if you don’t. Though, I enjoyed writing it and several fans of mine enjoyed reading it, if I do say so myself.

Episode 101: Pilot

Kal-El was my distant ancestor. He was also a prince, the second Bethgar of all Urrika. He was also the first Kryptonian to be born into the House of El. Knowing that our beloved planet would not last long after my son was born, I gave him after Kal, knowing that he too would start a new era, but on a different planet.

But this is not his story. This is the story of the first Kal-El. His father, Erok, was appointed Bethgar of the newly reunited state of Urrika after marrying Milia, the daughter of Uved, the chief of the northern Urrikan territories. Hoping to teach his son Kal autonomy, Erok-El sent him to a nearby solar system which housed a species genetically similar, but about ten-thousand years less evolved than us. Back then, Kryptonians thought nothing of the primitive Terrans. Erok naturally assumed that Kal-El would quickly conquer the planet, much like Erok had done to the divided nation of Urrika, but he was proven wrong.

Almost forty years later, Kal-El returned from Earth shortly after his wife had died. Erok refused to call her that, preferring the term “concubine.” You see, Kryptonian culture had a marked distinction between life-bonding and marriage-bonding. Life-bonding is for procreation, formed by two people with a powerful socioemotional bond. Marriage-bonding is a strictly legal tie, a way to align families and pair complementary occupations, completely analogous to the merging of two companies. It appeared Kal-El had both life-bonded and marriage-bonded (within Earth law) to the woman he called Loral. Oh, the controversy it caused. How do I know this? Well, for one, I married a historian with the Kryptonian Space Exploration Association, who also happened to be my life-partner. I sent my own son to Earth. Because of the current Earth customs, he’ll likely end up marrying his life-partner, too.

But I digress. Kal-El forged strong bonds with several Terrans, and so powerful were the connections, that the High Science Council could not ignore its potency. So, in his honor, they formed the Champions of Kal-El, a six-member team that could be used to spread truth and justice throughout the universe should it ever be required in extreme cases. Such respect did we have that we even used the Terran epithets.

Not too long ago, my son Kal-El joined together five Terrans and himself to reform the Champions of Kal-El. They have done immeasurably good in the universe, as he picked well. Well, I had doubts about one of them, but she turned out okay. My son is wiser than I anticipated.

Naman the Brave would be the leader of this team. He was to be a warrior with limitless courage and unshakeable morals. Anyone who bore his name in spirit would inherit all the powers of Kryptonian under a yellow sun.

Sageeth the Strong would be his ever-present adversary. He would have unrivaled combat ability, so that he could ever challenge Naman to be the greatest.

The woman was beautiful. They all were. Lex had long grown accustomed to the fact that everyone had a price. If he paid enough, he would have a more talented and more beautiful fencing instructor than last year. Truth be told, there was a secret why he performed so well. After the adventure on Jorja, he retained his ability to see things in slow motion. He caught even tilt of his opponent’s spine, every twist of her foot, and could predict the arc of her next strike within what seemed to him to be only a few seconds. In practice, he had indomitable reflexes. And it went a long way to impress the instructor. It would be no surprise that she would accept his invitation to dinner. It would be no surprise that she would wear something provocative. If she didn’t, well, perhaps she’d be getting a present in the mail from an anonymous source. It was power, which no one who knew Lex would be surprised that he wanted.

Dayak the Loyal would be Naman’s ever-devoted protector. For this, he must be a master of his domain should he keep Naman safe when he is weak.

Pete had to admit it to himself. As much as he’d like to say he went pre-law to please him mother, he couldn’t help but enjoy the courses. In the long run. Tonight, he was working on a seven-page paper detailing the controversy of corporate neglect in the case of intentional dangerous products. And he was bored out of his skull. So, he was twirling around a pair of scissors, catching them blindly as he tossed them from hand to hand. Momentarily distracted, he missed them with his hand, but was able to catch them in the crook of his toes, where he tossed them back to his hand and throwing them in the thick piece of corkboard, which already had half a dozen pens imbedded in it. Needing a moment to think, he picked up some free weights and started lifting as he talked out his argument to himself.

Loral the Faithful would be Naman’s ever-true life-partner. She must be Naman’s complement, knowing truth and emotion is her second nature.

All she wanted was a new scanner, a big one for copying double pages and large photographs. So, she entered in the Planet’s date auction. Which is how she ended up at an upscale Thai restaurant with a 29-year-old sports editor, on Friday, the night she was usually going to a movie with Clark, Lois, or Lana. Truth be told, he wasn’t a bad guy. He was taller, almost six foot (shorter than Clark), with thick black hair (curlier and greasier than Clark’s), and a decent smile (though no comparison to Clark’s) and glasses (which would look better on Clark). If only he would button the second-to-top button so she wouldn’t have to see so much of his chest hair. He mentioned that he loved shellfish. The last shipment of shellfish to this restaurant had been transported in a malfunctioning freezer truck, Chloe knew preternaturally. She also knew that her date had had dirty thoughts about their waitress, though the casual smile he had given her saying thank-you would have fooled anyone else. He mentioned an intern who had worked with him on his last project and if Chloe knew her. She did. She also knew that he had taken her out Wednesday night to celebrate their two-month anniversary. And that they’d spent the night at her place. And that they had another date planned this coming Sunday. So, Chloe excused herself to the restroom, noting that her date was too preoccupied with the woman a table over to notice she’d taken her purse and was walking to the entrance. On the way out, she mentioned to their waitress that her date loved Goong Gah Tee-em, a garlic shrimp dish, and that she should try to sell him on it.

Myora the Wise would be Naman’s guide and confidante. For all Naman’s power, Myora is more experienced with the magicks of the unknown.

Lois had a figure that looked good in a cocktail dress. She knew when and how to use her looks. And she knew that now, as she strode to a Department of Education meeting with Sen. Martha Kent, was not one of those times. So, she was dressed her most austere pant suit, which did a remarkable job of hiding her curves. But she also had one more trick up her sleeve. For anyone who cared to look, and there were a few eyes that were caught by the woman’s coppery locks, Sen. Kent was walking alone. Lois spent the majority of the meeting floating just above the heads of the various senators, trying to catch pieces of hidden conversations and reading the notes the various politicians were making on their copies of the new teacher compensation bill. True, this kind of inside information was an unfair advantage for the representative of District 11, but what Martha Kent didn’t know her chief of staff was doing couldn’t hurt her. Plus, since Martha had pulled some strings to get Lois enrolled in the long-distance degree program with Metropolis University, it was the least Lois could do in return. Noting that Jefferson Pierce, from the all-important District 6, was scribbling on his copy of the bill, Lois sidled over.

Rayen the Fair would be Naman’s friend. She should have a love and an understanding with all creatures.

Lana entered the main stables of the Metropolis Equestrian Center with the brown-coated Tiramisu in tow. The gentle mare obediently slipped into her stall and turned around for some affection, which Lana freely gave. Just as she was reaching for the brush someone on the other end of the stable called, “Watch out!” Lana turned to see a large white mare rushing down the aisle. Lana pulled herself back to the edge of the stalls, out of the horse’s way, but called out, authoritatively, “Hey, hold it!” About ten feet away, the horse stalled and began bucking wildly in place. Still Lana called to it, as if it were a small child, “What’s up? You get spooked? Calm down already.” The horse stopped bucking, but still paced restlessly. Lana continued to shush the horse, telling it, “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re in no danger here.” The horse butted Lana affectionately, who, because of her size, had to take a few steps back, but did extend her hand to pet the horse, who let her. A ranch hand ran up, calling her a regular horse whisperer. Lana replied, “Eh, horses are smarter than you think. Just use the tone of voice that you mean with them, and they’ll get the picture.” The man still seemed flabbergasted, so Lana reassured him. He seemed to accept her point of view very easily.

* * *

Unlike Dagula-Inagehi, the arid desert of Jorja was hot under the red sun Pontikos. The Champions of Kal-El trudged across the sand, spacious but light robes covering their bodies and protecting them from the sun. Wearing the familiar turquoise Shaman’s Eye bracelet was the tall, able-bodied Groosalugg, his once long black hair now cropped off, but starting to grow out unimpeded. He was fulfilling his sacred duty as Loral’s warrior proxy, as Chloe has chosen to remain with Krisreo and Maddinai in their ship, now command center. He looked longingly as Lois, who kept looking forward despite feeling his eyes on her back.

Also acting as a warrior proxy, was the beautiful and able-bodied Kennedy Huerta, who represented Rayen, replacing Lana.

Lex caught up to Clark, who eyed him warily, the memory of their last adventure still fresh. “C’mon, Clark,” Lex began, “don’t look so paranoid. I know we haven’t been on the best of terms lately, but I want to do the right thing just like you.”

Clark smiled and tried to breathe out a sigh of relief. “Sorry, Lex, just caught up in all this,” he commented lamely. He reminded himself that Lex’s mind had been purged of the memory of his betrayal at the Kenaki palace.

If the statement sounded awkward to Lex, he didn’t make any indication of it. He lithely asked, “Tell me one thing, Kal-El, were summers this warm on Krypton?”

Clark and Pete stopped dead in their tracks. The rest looked on in confusion.

Lex took several steps forward, circling Clark like a wolf. “What, do you not like to be called by your birth name?”

“Lex, what makes you think I’m Kal-El? Just because I’m Naman—”

Lex, smiling viciously, replied calmly, “Well, this past summer, I took Lana to the Kawatche Caves for some anthropology assignment. I returned to my mansion to find a rather curious book sitting on my desk.” He met Clark’s eyes. “At first I figured it to be some kind of practical joke. Probably my father; you know how whimsical he can be.” He held his hands out as if holding a rather large book. “The binding and the pages were made of very strange plastics, and the writing was in two languages: one was nineteenth-century British English, and the other was in the same writing as the cave walls. Well, knowing me, I hired the best linguists in the country to see if they could use the book to translate the cave walls.” This time as he paused, the rest of the team was noticeably silent. “Well, it appears the book was not a fake. My linguists were able to translate portions, nothing intelligible yet, but still more progress than we’ve made in years. You want to know what the book was about, Clark? It was about a little planet called Krypton less than a light year away from the Milky Way. There was a race of highly advanced humans living there before the planet’s super-dense core became unstable and caused the planet to explode. It said that a scientist, named Jor-El of all things, sent his infant son to Earth. He believed that under a yellow sun and lower gravity this child would demonstrate amazing powers, much like the ones Jor-El… gave you.” He spoke this last part with some doubt in his voicel. “Well, if we were to assume Naman was a Kryptonian—the story fits rather nicely—well, that would explain your powers. But then I thought, if you had always had these powers, it would explain a lot of the strange occurrences that have been happening over the years, and why they all seem to involve you. Which is why… ” At this, Lex pulled out the kryptonite dagger.

Clark grunted. “Not again.” He fell to the ground.

Then Lex did too as Groo knocked him upside the head.

Kennedy spoke up, “You know, I think I’m going to sit this one out. It’s probably a stupid guy thing.”

Suddenly, Groo fell to his knees, clutching the bracelet.

* * *

At the Euryphaessa Hotel in Metropolis, Kansas, Clark Kent walked into the lobby carrying a large box, which he set down on the abandoned counter, causing it to creak ominously, so he moved it to the floor.

“So, what was in that box?” came a voice from just outside the double doors. In walked another tall man of about thirty years with short brown hair, wearing a black duster over casual clothes.

“Mostly lead.” Clark answered.

The man rolled his eyes, letting out a chuckle. “Why? To show off your strength?”

Indignantly, Clark replied, “I’ll have you know this stuff is extremely useful to me.”

“Yeah, yeah, where do you want these computers?”

“Just leave them on the table. Those are heavy, too, you know. Trying to show off your strength?”

“To who? Not like I’m gonna impress you.”

Chloe Sullivan ran in, carrying a small open printing box. “Hey, Clark, got the business cards and flyers!” She stopped short when she saw the other man in the room. “Hey! Is this…?” She pushed her blond hair behind her ear.

Clark stood between the two. “Yeah. Chloe Sullivan, I’d like you to mean Angel. Angel, Chloe.”

“Nice to meet you,” he replied amicably.

“So, you’re like a vampire?” She couldn’t keep the curious smile off her face.

Smiling back, he replied, “Yeah, going on… 256 years now.”

“And you look great. What’s your secret?”

“Did I mention the vampire thing?” Clark laughed. “But, uh, I wouldn’t get too attached to me. I’ve got a girlfriend, and a couple days a month, she’s not a nice person to be around.”

“Well, me neither,” Chloe replied as she began to unpack the box she brought in.

Angel turned to Clark and commented, “Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“I don’t get it,” Clark replied, deeply in thought. Angel laughed.

Chloe proudly displaced a flyer. With a dramatic flair, she read it off, “Look at that! ‘Archangel Investigations. We bring truth and justice to the hopeless.’” Her eyebrows rose expectantly.

Angel looked almost slighted. “Archangel Investigations? Are you kidding me?”

“What, too derivative?” Chloe asked, deflated. She examined the flyer.

Angel tried to look casual, pushing all his weight onto one foot. “It’s just, in the traditional Catholic hierarchy of angels, archangels are one level above traditional angels. I just figured, since you were a branch of us…”

Chloe paused. “Yeah… Smallville’s kind of a Baptist-Methodist town. Plus, I thought you went freelance now.”

Defeated, Angel replied, “That doesn’t mean… whatever. I do like the logo,” he offered, fingering the abstract drawing of an angel, wings flared, wearing a breastplate and raising a sword courageously in the air. “So, Chloe, what’s your job again?”

“Vision girl.”

Angel nodded. “We had one of those. You get a lot of business that way.”

“It’s an outgrowth of my psionic powers.” She studied his face.

“I hope you not trying to read me in someway. Vampires don’t cast a lot of reflections, literal and metaphysical.” Chloe scrunched her face in disappointment.

Clark stepped up to stand behind Chloe, commenting, “Chloe underrates herself. She’s the only one in this Scooby-Doo organization with any private-eye skills.”

Angel grinned, “That would make you the muscle?”

Clark didn’t quite know how to respond to that, “I guess so.”

“Well, Clark’s a lot more useful that just a thug,” came Lana’s voice from the door, carrying in another box.

Clark’s manners were quick. “Angel, I’d like you to meet Lana Lang, our manager and receptionist.”

Angel, sizing her up with appreciation, commented, “Manager and receptionist. That’s quite a double role.”

Chloe stated, “Well, she’s the only one with business skills. Plus, what better face to put at the front desk?”

Angel leaned over to Clark and whispered, “Chloe does realize she’s pretty, right?”

Clark whispered back, “Lana was Miss Popular in high school. Chloe was the newspaper editor.”

Angel replied, “I know the types.”

Clark asked, “I have a question. Lex was in the Champions of Kal-El. Why doesn’t he manage us? No offense to Lana.”

“None taken,” Lana replied passively.

With a mock annoyed tone, Chloe reminded him, “In case you’ve forgotten, Lex already has a business to run. You know, so he can keep us afloat until we start, and I quote, ‘bringing in a profit.’”

Angel offered a sympathetic tilt of the head, “Good luck. Easier said than done.”

“Plus, Clark… me and Lex… working together?” Lana let the implication speak for itself.

“I get it. Though… we used to date, too.”

“It’s different, Clark Kent, and you know it.”

Angel looked at Lana as she started setting up the front desk. “Is she your boss?”

Clark didn’t reply, only called, “Lana?”

Lana, smiling, replied, “Technically, yes, Clark, but it’s not like I can fire you. Plus, Clark, I think you should really consider being the de jur manager, just for appearances.” She paused and added, “Though, Clark, you go evil again, your definitely getting the pink slip.”

“Pfft!” Angel remarked to himself, “I’m not the only one.”

Clark became indignant again. “When have I ever gone evil?”

“Red K?” Chloe suggested.

“Or when Jor-El reprograms you,” mentioned Lana.

Clark took a step back. “Look, red K takes away my conscience. And so does Jor-El.”

Angel, intrigued by the conversation, commented, “Wow. You really are perfect for my successor.”

* * *

Clark stood outside the hotel, his hands in his pocket and his eyes closed. The wind blew around him, but he remained with his head tilted back, silent as the night. To keep some semblance of a secret identity, he’d sent out Lana and Lois to pick out an outfit for him, telling them specifically to avoid black. Lana brought him navy slacks and a button-up shirt. Lois found a maroon duster. Also, the team was working on designing alter egos for themselves.

Behind him, in the hotel driveway, was a white 1979 Ford Thunderbird with its top down. Pete Ross was leaning against the hood, wearing a copper trench coat over a forest green shirt and jeans, looking bored. Lois sat in the passenger seat, her feet up on the dashboard, sighing. She brushed dirt off her fitted black slacks and white tank top: clothes specifically chosen for functionality.

“18^th and Palmer,” Clark stated passively as he ran off at full speed. Immediately, Pete hopped into the driver’s seat and raced off behind him.

“Tell me again why you get to drive?” Lois asked, putting on her seatbelt warily.

Handing her the nickel of the dashboard, he replied, “I won the coin toss. You get to drive tomorrow night.”

“What are we doing tomorrow night?”

Pete smiled, “The same thing we do every night, Lois. Try to save the world.”

“God, it rocks to be a child of the nineties.”

* * *

She struggled, writhing underneath him, flailing her arms in a desperate attempt to throw him off, but to no avail. She kicked furiously against him, but he kept himself on top of her, holding her down, peering at her with his yellow eyes and his cackling laugh. Even amidst the struggle, all she could think about was how this guy reminded her of Gollum from Lord of the Rings. It was not a bad comparison. His skin did look rather gray, but that could have been the low light. Nothing is what it seems in an abandoned alley in the middle of the night. Though, attackers usually seem bigger. This guy looked positively shrimpy. Judging by the position of his feet, he couldn’t have been much over five feet tall. And, despite his strong arms, he seemed to barely weigh a hundred. How can I be so observant at a time like this?

A large hand grasped the wrist of her attacker. If anything, it brought credence to her perceptions. His skin was tanned, and his hand was actually large, his grip more than able to wrap completely around the gray man’s skinny wrist. But then she doubted her perceptions again, because her rescuer’s hand just threw the tiny man thirty feet into a brick wall. And if that wasn’t impossible enough, the gray man got right back up and ran back over.

“Ran” in the sense of how a monkey runs: slouched over, arms dangling, and cackling. He leapt into the air at her rescuer, a tall, dark-haired man in what appeared to be a red leather duster. The monkey-man must have had very strong arms, because he lunged superhumanly fast, knocking over the man, which was saying a lot because this man was built like a brick wall. A crisp twang resounded through the air as a dart plunged itself into the creature—there was no better word for the abomination—causing it to howl animal-like before ripping the projectile out of its side and tossing it away. It landed near the young woman, petite with dark blonde air. There was blood on it, and it had small green particles floating in it.

She looked up and saw the origin of the dart. Standing before a white car were a black man and a white woman. The man was holding a small crossbow and the woman a battleaxe. Macy wished to wake up out of this bizarre dream. A groan from her rescuer brought her attention back to the struggle. The muscular man cringed in pain.

“Clark, you’re getting your ass whooped,” said the woman without an ounce of sympathy. Rolling her eyes, she walked over. The creature looked up at her and screeched. The woman simply placed an unrestrained chop to the creature throat, who gargled as he rolled off the man.

“He’s got kryptonite in his blood,” groaned Clark.

“Well that would explain a lot…”

Another inhuman howl echoed through the alleyway and the beast lunged at Lois. Without blinking, she supported all her weight on one foot and extended her other in the air, toward the creature. It promptly slammed into her foot, causing Lois to fall on top of Clark, who moaned again.

The monster lay still, curled up in a fetal position.

The dark-skinned man ran over. “Whoa, you get him in the heart, Lois?”

Lois looked down her leg. “Actually, looks like more in the groin area.” Both men groaned a lot louder than the taller one had earlier.

Pete held up a water bottle he was holding and sprayed Clark’s clothes, causing the blood to seem off. All at once, Clark stood tall and strong again, giving his partners a “thanks” before walking back over to Macy.

“Hello, I’m with Archangel Investigations.” He handed the shaky Macy a business card. “Are you hurt?”

Looking at the card, Macy replied, “No. But thank you so much. What was that thing?”

Pete answered, “I don’t know. But we’ll try to figure it out.” Lois walked over with a tarp and handed it to Pete. He gave her a questioning look. She responded with a yeah-right look. Pete walked over to the creature.

Macy shivered as she faced Clark, “You do this for a living? Am I going to have to pay you? ‘Cause I’m just a waitress—”

Clark held his hand up. “No, this was a public service. But keep the card. If anything like this happens to you or anyone you know, call this number.”

Macy thumbed brushed over the “Inc.” part of the logo. “If you’re privately owned, how can you make money?”

Pete replied for Clark, with the creature wrapped up in a tarp hanging over his shoulder, “Trust me. These freaks… meta-humans, if you will, well, we’ve heard that there’s been a number of them loose on the street. Eventually, someone with the dough is gonna need our help and we’ve got to get the word out.” With this he stapled a flyer to a near-by telephone pole. “What I guess we’re saying is, word of mouth is a good thing for us.”

“Trust me, I won’t be able to shut up about this,” she said with a disturbed glance at the bulge in the tarp. She pocketed the business card.

Lois stood close to her. “Maybe you ought to take a cab. You’re awfully near Suicide Slums to be wandering around after dark.”

“I work around the corner. You can’t get a cab, not even a gypsy cab, until you hit 16^th Street.” She motioned to the next street over. Lois nodded.

As Clark, Pete, and Lois turned to walk away, she yelled back. “What do I call you?”

“I’m just a guardian archangel…” With this, he literally disappeared, leaving Macy stunned as Pete and Lois drove away.

* * *

In the basement of the hotel, Angel stood in an attack pose opposite of Pete on an exercise mat. To the side, Clark and Lois watched on. Lois turned to Clark. “By the way, Smallville, ‘I’m just a guardian archangel’? How lame is that?”

“Well, it’s not like I practiced that in front of the mirror. It’s just all I could come up with at the time. Look, Mom just got the Kansas seat in the House. It’s a rather bad time to be advertising that her son is some sort of superhuman vigilante. I’m still working on my alter ego.”

“Okay, Pete,” Angel stated, “come at me.”

Pete jumped forward with a hard punch to Angel’s shoulder. Angel quickly deflected the blow with his right arm and grabbed Pete’s other arm with his left hand and twisted it around.

“Uncle!” Pete cried immediately. Angel let him loose. “I’m telling you, man, my skills’re with the weapons.”

“Your entire body is a weapon. Lois took out the enemy last night with her foot.”

“With her pumps! Which, by the way, I’ve always maintained was a weapon. Just ask Erica Fox.”

“Who…?” Lois began to ask.

Clark answered for him. “Pete dated her the summer after our freshman year. She stepped on his foot at prom. Luckily, by that time, the dance was cancelled because of tornado warnings.”

“Is that the same dance that you—?”

“Yes,” Clark stated in an annoyed voice.

Back on the battle floor, Angel held a large broadsword while Pete attacked him with two small, curved daggers. Pete moved gracefully, swinging his arms to deflect Angel’s strikes, often using both daggers to parry Angel’s stronger blows. He easily dodged the vampire’s attacks and made several powerful stabs, which Angel avoided by leaping, sometimes somersaulting, backwards.

Lois chuckled. “Whoa. Check out the Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.”

Pete struck at Angel’s left arm with the butt of one of his daggers, causing it to emit a metallic clang. He took a step back, mirroring the perplexed expressions of all those in the room.

“It’s an artificial arm. A friend of mine did some kind of magic voo-doo on it and now’s it’s indestructible.”

“Wow. It looks real.”

“She’s very good with her magic.”

Lois came in for closer examination. “How’d you lose it?”

“Well, when my crew and I effectively slaughtered this secret council of evil from the inside out, well, the parent company kind of sent out a demonic army of apocalyptic proportions. I was slaying a dragon.”

“You lost your arm slaying a dragon?” Chloe said incredulously from the top of the stairs. She moved her hands restlessly, apparently wishing there was a notebook in them.

“Actually, not really. After slaying said dragon, I neglected to notice that I was sixty feet in the air. I landed pretty hard on a trash can. I cut up my arm pretty bad and… it was eaten off by a hellhound demon, I believe.”

“Well, my dog had superpowers for a while. There was this other one that also had superpowers that bit my dad in the arm. He was okay, though,” he finished softly.

Angel turned to Lois, “So, ready to take a shot at it?”

Lois uncertainly took a fighting pose. “I don’t know how to start.”

“Just try to attack me. We’ll play it by ear.”

With partial confidence, Lois nodded, “Okay, let’s try this.” She unassuredly wound up and punched at Angel, who easily caught the fist with one hand.

Lois briskly took hold of his wrist with her free hand and twisted hard. She expertly kicked Angel in the shin and twisted her elbow into his ribcage. He winced and took an uneven step backwards as Lois roundhouse-kicked him in the side. As he lay on the ground, Lois asked him, “How was that?”

“Okay, who taught you to fight?”

“Just some of the top drill sergeants at West Point.”

Sitting comfortably on an old desk with her arms resting behind her, Chloe added, “A couple of them taught her some other things, too.” Clark tried not to laugh.

“Oh, they learned a thing or two from me,” Lois snapped back with a coy smile. She turned to face Angel again. “Did I not mention that I’m the daughter of Three-Star General Sam Lane?”

“It must have slipped your mind,” Angel groaned as he got back up. “Try again.”

Lois took a straight shot at his neck, which Angel didn’t deflect, only striking her arm after her blow, and twisted his foot behind her, causing her to fall backwards. She stopped halfway down in midair and, defying gravity, righted herself.

“That’s a cool trick,” Angel commented with a raspy voice.

“You ain’t seen nothing, yet.” Lois leapt into the air, round-kicking again. Angel dodged and leapt up, grabbing her arms from behind and bringing her back down with the unexpected weight. He ran his arms around Lois’s, effectively locking her behind him.

In her ear, he whispered, “Can you guess what your mistake was?”

“Using the same trick twice?”

“Yes, but that’s not all.”

“Hitting a thing that doesn’t breathe in the neck?”

“Yes, and I don’t appreciate being called a ‘thing.’ Still not what I’m getting at.”

“Then what?” She struggled.

“Revealing your expertise to me. You’ve got army training. Army teaches teamwork, emphasizing holding your squad members’ lives above your own. Therefore, you focus on face-forward combat, because you don’t expect your comrades to stab you in the back. Ergo, I strike from behind.”

“Okay, let off, Dracula. Why don’t you kick Smallville around the room a little bit?”

Clark passed Lois, remarking, “Why? I was kind of enjoying seeing you being taken down a notch.”

Angel replied solemnly, “I don’t want you to take your powers for granted. Superhuman doesn’t mean immortal. You have to be quick.” To illustrate his point, he punched Clark hard in the chest with his left arm.

The force of the punch created a sonic blast. Pete and Lois fell back; Chloe rolled off the desk; and Clark took a small step backwards. As the others pulled themselves to their feet, Angel twisted his prosthetic arm, creating a mechanical clank and an anatomical pop. Shaking it out, Angel asked, “Clark, what are you made of?”

Rubbing her neck, Chloe replied, “We’re not sure. It’s not like we can do a tissue sample.”

Pete added, “I’ve seen bullets bounce off of him.”

“I once hit him with my car going sixty,” Lex stated from the top of the stairs. “Thirty seconds later, he’s ripping the roof off my Ferrari.” Angel merely stared suspiciously at Lex, who commented, “I would lay off the misgivings, Mr. Angel. Clark has shown me enough distrust in my lifetime for the both of you.”

“Lex…” Clark tried to reply.

“No, no, Clark, no need to defend yourself. If there’s anyone who understands the fragility of trust, it’s me.”

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Angel stated with no less wariness, “but in a past life, the megacorporation was my greatest enemy.”

“How mythic,” Lex replied coolly.

* * *

High on the rooftop of the Euryphaessa Hotel, Angel stood on the ledge with the five members of Archangel Investigations standing behind him, seemingly in position: Clark in the center, Pete and Lois flanking him on his left, Chloe on his right, with Lana farther to the right, holding an air of authority.

Without turning to face them, he said, “You’re doing a good thing. There is no higher calling than to help those who can’t help themselves. Metropolis is a good city and well worth saving. And you may be one of the few capable of doing it. It won’t be easy. You won’t always do the right thing. I sure didn’t.” He finally turned around.

Lois, uncomfortable with the solemnity in her voice, asked, “Where’re you going?”

“Romania. I have friends there. Hopefully, I can convince a few to visit you, share their expertise.”

Chloe spoke up. “You think we’ll need it?”

Angel sighed. “You’d know better than I would. And I have a feeling the city will very much need your aid.”

* * *

Lex stood in the main elevator of LuthorCorp, passively reading an expense report. Only certain buttons of the elevator were lit up. After Lex swiped a key card, they all lit up, including the 33 button that he pressed. As the elevator neared the Floor 33, Lex pressed his thumb into a scanner, and the elevator, once reaching 33, jerked up another few feet.

The metal doors opened, revealing a long corridor below a metal walkway. The first thing Lex saw was the shaggy mane of his father, holding his cane and leaning against the railing on a metal platform overlooking the expansive room.

“So nice of you to join me, Lex,” Lionel Luthor commented without turning around.

“So, what was this urgent message you wanted to see me about.”

“Project Silverdust was a failure. Your little play-detective agency send in the body. I hear that it was the muffin peddler who defeated him.”

Lex paused for effect, “So, you’re thinking maybe we ought to send one out with a little more power?”

Lionel turned to face his son, a wicked smile appearing on his face, “I had hoped you would say that, my boy. Come with me to Cell 9.”

The cells were simple, unlit 8-foot cubes, with heavy glass on the front side. The walls of Cell 9 were lined with a thick layer of rubber. Only a shadow could be seen within. Suddenly, a large blast of electricity crackled against the door.

“He’s leeched over 1.2 gigawatts of electricity since exposure,” explained Lionel.

Lex smiled. “Well, that can’t be good for our utility bills. We release him at dawn.” It was neither an order nor a question.

A/N: As of now, I have three more episodes ready to be written, and as I go along, I’ll keep you updated with the number of episodes I can promise you. Already, I have vague to clear ideas for about eight or ten episodes, and a few possible season-long plots, so you can hopefully expect more in the future.

By the way, I ended the first contest to guess who the first Naman was. All other contests will remain open until further notice. Winners get made into stories characters.

Contest 1: Clark likes Chloe’s karaoke rendition of Fefe Dobson’s “Kiss Me Fool.” Figure this out.

Contest 2: Besides Groo, there is a Buffy dialogue reference in the latter half of “The Champions of Kal-El.” Find it.

^_^ - Hmm, it was okay, but I was gravely disappointed in the lack of Hot!Chloeness.

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Episode 102