Clark/Superboy POV

I hit the ground hard enough to crack asphalt.

Again.

At this point, I was starting to lose count of how many times today alone I had eaten concrete.

The impact sent a shockwave through the street, shattering nearby windows and kicking up a cloud of dust and debris. For a second, everything blurred—the sky, the buildings, the ocean just beyond the boardwalk.

Then the ringing in my ears faded.

And the roar came back.

Loud.

Angry.

Right in front of me.

I pushed myself up just in time to see the kaiju swing.

I barely got my arms up before its massive claw slammed into me and launched me straight through the side of a beachfront building.

Wood, concrete, and glass exploded around me as I tore through two walls and finally stopped somewhere inside what used to be a living room.

I lay there for half a second, staring at the ceiling fan spinning crookedly above me.

“…Okay,” I muttered. “That one actually hurt.”

I coughed, sitting up slowly as the world spun around me.

Dust filled the air. Broken furniture was scattered everywhere. On the far wall, a flat-screen TV sparked and hissed, flashing between static and glimpses of an emergency broadcast—my own disaster, being reported in real time.

I could hear screaming outside.

People running.

Cars crashing into each other as they tried to get away.

And underneath all of it—

Heavy footsteps.

Each one shaking the ground.

The kaiju was moving again.

I pushed myself to my feet.

I had a job to do.

“I’m not doing anything to this thing.”

I stepped back through the hole I’d made in the wall and into the street.

The kaiju loomed in the middle of the road, a mountain of scales and muscle that blotted out the sun. The thing was at least, three stories? No—more like four stories tall, with shoulders wider than a city bus.

Thick, armored skin that looked like overlapping plates.

It wasn’t smart.

I could tell that much.

Its movements were raw. Instinctive. It wasn’t planning anything.

It was just…

Destroying.

I shot forward, closing the distance in a second, and drove my fist into its side.

The impact created a shocked, but it felt like hitting a wall.

A really big, really angry wall.

The kaiju barely reacted.

It turned its head slowly.

Looked down at me.

Then swatted me like I was an inconvenience.

I went flying again.

This time I skipped across the pavement, bounced off a parked car, and slammed into a row of storefronts, collapsing part of the structure as I went through.

I groaned, pushing rubble off my shoulders.

“Okay,” I said under my breath. “That went swimmingly,”

I stood up again.

Dusted myself off again.

Walked back out into the street again.

This was getting repetitive.

And not in a good way.

“How am I supposed to beat this thing?”

I clenched my fists, watching it tear through another section of the boardwalk, splintering wood and sending pieces flying into the air.

“My attacks do nothing.”

That wasn’t entirely true.

They did something.

Just not enough.

Not even close.

At this rate it would take me days to beat this thing.

I took a breath.

Focused.

Then launched myself forward again.

This time I aimed for its head, slamming into its jaw with everything I had.

Its head snapped to the side slightly, my strike creating yet another shockwave.

For a second—

Just a second—

I thought I had it.

Then it turned back.

And hit me.

The blow caught me mid-air and sent me crashing through another building.

This one didn’t even slow me down.

I went through it like it wasn’t there, hit the next one, and finally stopped buried under a pile of debris.

I lay there, staring up at the sky through a hole in the roof.

“I was not ready for this,” I muttered, I was getting my ass handed to me.

That came out more honest than I expected.

I let out a breath.

“Yeah,” I added quietly. “Definitely not ready.”

A few days ago, I’d fought the Lizard League.

I’d handled them.

Easily.

Which made me think—

Maybe I can handle bigger threats.

That thought?

Yeah.

That was looking pretty stupid right now.

I pushed the rubble off me and stood up again.

No time to dwell on it.

People were still out there.

Still in danger.

I shot back into the street just in time to see the kaiju turn toward a nearby house.

A family stood frozen on the front lawn.

Parents.

Two kids.

Too scared to move.

The kaiju raised its arm.

I didn’t think.

I moved, pushing my speed to the limit.

I hit it from the side, wrapping both arms around its torso and driving it away from the house.

The impact dragged both of us across the street, carving a trench through asphalt.

“Run!” I shouted over my shoulder.

I didn’t check if they listened.

I just focused on the monster.

It roared, thrashing against my grip, and slammed its elbow into my back.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Each hit sent a jolt through me.

I tightened my grip and pushed harder, forcing it away from the residential area and back toward the beach.

“Come on,” I muttered. “Come on, you oversized lizard—”

It twisted suddenly and slammed its foot into my chest.

That one actually made me see stars.

I staggered back a step.

It took advantage immediately.

A clawed hand grabbed me.

And threw me.

I skipped across the sand this time, carving a long trench before finally coming to a stop near the shoreline.

Waves crashed nearby.

Cold salty water rushed over my boots.

I stayed down for a second.

Just breathing.

Thinking.

“Where in tarnation are the Guardians of the Globe?”

That question hit harder than the kaiju had.

This was their kind of problem.

Not mine.

The ground shook again as the kaiju approached.

Right.

No time for that.

I stood up.

Rolled my shoulders.

“Okay,” I said. “New plan.”

I didn’t have a new plan.

But saying it helped. It was a mantra at this point.

I launched myself forward again, ducking under its swing, before grabbing its arm, trying to twist it off balance.

It resisted.

Hard.

But I kept pushing.

Shifting its weight.

Trying to use its size against it.

For a second—

It worked.

The kaiju stumbled.

Just slightly.

But enough.

I moved in, aiming for its legs—

And then everything stopped.

Not literally.

But it felt like it.

Because something else hit the kaiju.

Harder than anything I had done so far.

The impact created a massive shockwave that sent it flying backward, crashing into the sand and skidding several meters before stopping.

I blinked.

“…Oh.”

I didn’t even need to look to know who that was.

But I did anyway.

Floating above the beach, arms crossed, cape barely moving in the wind—

Omni-Man.

He glanced at me.

Then back at the kaiju as it started to rise again.

“I’ll take it from here, Clark.”

I froze.

“…Right.”

I rubbed the back of my neck.

“So he knows.”

I sighed under my breath.

“So much for the secret identity.”

To be fair…

I knew his.

Months ago.

Perks of super hearing.

Also one of the downsides.

Because yeah—

Hearing someone talk about saving the world is cool.

Hearing them fuck as a celebration, not so much. Let’s just say it took me months to be able to see Ms Grayson at the eyes once more, she’s… very vocal.

I shook that thought away immediately.

Nope.

Not going there.

Omni-Man didn’t wait.

He shot forward and hit the kaiju with a punch that actually moved it.

Like, really moved it.

The thing roared, swinging back, but he caught its arm mid-motion and twisted, slamming it into the ground hard enough to shake the entire beach.

I watched.

For a moment, I just… watched.

Because this?

This was different.

Omni-Man was in an entirely different level.

Every movement was direct.

Efficient.

Final.

The kaiju tried to get up again.

He didn’t let it.

Another punch.

Another slam.

Sand and debris flew everywhere as he kept striking the beast, over and over again, until the thing just stopped moving altogether.

Omni-Man glanced back at me briefly.

“You did well holding it off.”

“So, you knew I was Superboy, huh?” I asked sheepishly.

The only answer I got was one eyebrow inching upward as his gaze dropped to my chest, where the slightly crooked “S” Mom had stitched tilted just a bit to the left, the thread already starting to fray at the edges from all the fighting.

“Come on, we need to talk,” Omniman turned and launched into the air, sand curling around his boot in a miniature cyclone. He didn’t even look back to see if I was following.

I did, obviously.

Because what else was I going to do?

I caught up quick, and for the first five seconds I tried to match his speed, just for the hell of it. I got close. Then he cut hard, vertical, and I tried to follow, except my internal gyroscope wasn’t as practiced as his and I overshot, lost control, and almost spiraled straight into a flock of seagulls.

A few of them exploded into white feathers. One bird clipped my face at mach speeds and I got a mouthful of beak and wing before I managed to right myself.

Damn it. I spat feathers and caught up to Omni-Man just as he hovered over the city, way above the tallest condo tower, arms crossed

“You should’ve come to me,” Omniman said, finally. His mustache didn’t even ruffle in the wind.

The weird thing was how gentle his voice was, up here above it all and after what I’d just watched him do. Like he was a stern, but not-uncaring, physics teacher explaining why my homework was trash and also why I should fix it.

“Well, I was doing pretty well by myself till… today, but you live you learn,” I couldn’t read his face, but from the way his lips pressed together, he was either disappointed or just not a fan of improv.

Omni-Man didn’t answer immediately.

He just hovered there, looking down at the city.

From up here, everything looked small.

Cars like toys.

People like dots.

The destruction along the beachfront stood out though—broken buildings, smoke still rising, emergency vehicles swarming like ants.

I shifted slightly in the air, trying to steady myself after the whole… bird incident.

Still had a feather stuck to my sleeve.

I flicked it off.

Omni-Man finally spoke.

“You were reckless.”

Straight to the point.

No sugarcoating.

I scratched the back of my neck.

“Yeah… I figured that part out when I got thrown through my third building.”

“That creature could have killed you.”

I shrugged.

“I mean… it didn’t.”

“That’s not the point.”

His tone didn’t rise.

Didn’t get angry.

But it got… heavier.

Like every word had more weight behind it.

I looked over at him.

He wasn’t looking at me.

Still watching the city.

Still calm.

Still completely in control.

“That thing wasn’t exactly asking for my resume before trying to flatten a house,” I said. “People were there. I wasn’t just going to sit it out and hope someone else showed up.”

Omni-Man nodded once.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t have acted,” he said. “I’m saying you didn’t understand what you were facing.”

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

Because… yeah.

He wasn’t wrong.

“I thought I did,” I admitted. “I’ve handled stuff before. Robberies, gang things, the Lizard League—”

He turned his head slightly at that.

“You fought them.”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I… won.”

That sounded a lot less impressive now than it did in my head a few days ago.

His eyes narrowed just a fraction.

“And that made you think you were ready for something like that.”

Not a question.

A statement.

I sighed.

“…Yeah.”

There was a pause.

Wind moved past us in steady currents, carrying the distant noise of sirens and helicopters up to where we floated.

Omni-Man finally turned fully toward me.

“You’re strong,” he said.

I blinked.

“Uh… thanks?”

“You’re faster than most. Durable. You adapt quickly.”

Okay.

Now I was confused.

This didn’t sound like a lecture anymore.

“But strength without experience,” he continued, “is dangerous.”

There it was.

“I know,” I said quietly.

He studied me for a second.

Like he was trying to figure something out.

“Where did you learn to fight?”

I hesitated.

“Uh… nowhere?”

His eyebrow twitched.

“Nowhere.”

“I mean—I’ve fought people, but not like… trained. No dojo, no military, no secret alien combat school or anything.”

“…You’re telling me you’ve been improvising.”

“Pretty much.”

That earned me a look.

Not disbelief.

Something closer to… mild concern.

“That explains a lot,” he said.

“Wow,” I muttered. “That feels like an insult.”

“It’s an observation.”

“Still felt like an insult.”

He ignored that.

“Raw power will carry you against ordinary threats,” he said. “Criminals. Low-level enhanced individuals. But creatures like that—”

He gestured vaguely toward the coastline.

“—require more.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” I said. “Pretty hard to miss when you’re getting used as a battering ram.”

He didn’t react to that.

Of course he didn’t.

I shifted in the air again, more stable now.

“So what was that thing?” I asked. “Because I’m guessing ‘angry beach lizard’ isn’t the official classification.”

“Kaiju,” he said simply.

“So I was mentally addressing it right.”

“They appear occasionally. Large. Durable. Minimal intelligence. Maximum destruction, some are stronger than others, this one was a weak one.”

“Love that.”

“They can be fun to battle, but as any mindless beast they need to be put down.”

“So… for how long have you’ve known, huh?”

“Clark,” he said. “I have known you since you were six, you really think a black shirt and stupid name would hide your identity from me? Mark might be fooled, but we’ve known for a while,”

I winced.

“Okay….”

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

I looked down at my chest. He was looking at my emblem.

At the slightly crooked “S” Mom had stitched.

“Hey,” I said. “That’s homemade. It has character.”

One corner of his mouth twitched.

Not quite a smile.

But close.

“I can tell.”

Wow.

That might’ve been the nicest insult I’ve ever received.

I crossed my arms slightly, hovering there across from him.

“So what, you’ve just been… watching me this whole time?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation.

No shame.

Just straight up yes.

“…That’s a little creepy.”

“You were lifting tractors at seven.”

I paused.

“…Okay, fair.”

He nodded once, like that settled the matter.

“And flying,” he added. “Badly.”

I winced.

“You saw that?”

“I heard about it.”

That somehow felt worse.

“From who?”

“Your father, we play cards every Sunday, do you really think this conversation never came out?”

Right.

Of course.

Well, good to know… would’ve been nice to know he knew, but okay.

I rubbed the back of my neck.

“Okay, yeah, that tracks.”

There was a brief silence.

Wind moved around us, steady and constant at this height.

“You’ve done well,” he said.

I blinked.

“…I got thrown through like five buildings.”

“You kept getting up.”

“That’s kind of the bare minimum.”

“For most people, yes.”

Something about the way he said it made me pause.

There wasn’t sarcasm in it.

No edge.

Just… fact.

I shifted slightly in the air.

“Still got my ass handed to me.”

“You survived.”

“That’s a low bar.”

“It’s the first bar.”

I huffed out a quiet breath.

“…Yeah.”

Another pause.

Then, without warning—

“Let’s go eat.”

I blinked again.

“…What?”

Omni-Man turned, already starting to drift downward.

“My wife has been waiting to chew you out for months.”

I hovered there for a second.

“…Excuse me?”

He glanced back over his shoulder.

“For being a hero without supervision, she waited for as long as she could, but today was the drop that broke the camel’s back, and she sent me to get you.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Nope,” I said immediately. “No, no, I think I’m good actually—”

“You’re coming.”

“That didn’t sound like a suggestion.”

“It wasn’t.”

Well this had a turn of events I didn't see coming.

I groaned.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“I just got punched through a building.”

“And now you’re going to have dinner.”

“That feels like a weird progression of events.”

He didn’t even slow down.

“Clark.”

I sighed.

“…Yeah?”

“Do you think you’re in trouble?”

“…A little?”

“Smart kid.”

“…Great.”

I took off after him.

Because again—

What else was I going to do?

Flying next to him was… different.

Not just because he was faster.

He wasn’t even trying, and I still had to put in effort to keep up.

“Relax,” Omni-Man said without looking at me.

“I am relaxed.”

“You’re tense.”

“I just got invited to a intervention dinner, I think I’m allowed to be tense.”

He almost smiled again.

Almost.

“She likes you, that means she won’t be too mean.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“It should.”

“It really doesn’t.”

We descended toward Mark’s neighborhood.

Familiar streets.

Familiar houses.

And suddenly—

This felt way more real than fighting a kaiju.

“Wait,” I said. “Does Mark know?”

“No, he knows about me, but not about you.”

I exhaled.

“Okay. Good.”

“For now, I won’t lie to my kid.”

“Fair enough.”

We landed on the backyard.

Normal.

Casual.

Like we hadn’t just been throwing a giant monster around ten minutes ago.

Omni-Man didn’t even bother hiding the landing.

He just walked toward the house like this was any other afternoon.

I hesitated for half a second.

Then followed.

Because yeah.

No backing out now.

The back door opened before we even knocked.

Of course it did.

Debbie Grayson stood there with her arms crossed.

She looked… calm.

Too calm.

“Oh good,” she said. “You found him.”

I immediately straightened up.

“Hi, Mrs. Grayson.”

“Clark, or should I call you, Superboy.”

“Clark is fine, Mrs Grayson,”

She stepped aside.

“Get in here.”

Yep.

I was absolutely in trouble.

I walked in slowly.

Shoes off automatically.

Habit.

Debbie shut the door behind us.

And just like that, it got quiet.

No distractions.

No buffer.

Just me, her, and Omni-Man leaning casually like this wasn’t about to become a full interrogation.

She turned toward me again.

Arms still crossed.

“So,” she said.

Here it comes.

“You’ve been playing hero.”

I winced.

“…Define playing.”

“For how long?”

“…A couple years?”

Her eyebrow twitched.

“Clark.”

“Okay, two years.”

She took a slow breath.

The kind people take when they’re deciding how much trouble you’re in.

“You’ve been putting yourself in danger,” she said. “Without training. Without backup. Without telling anyone who could actually help you.”

I raised a hand slightly.

“In my defense, my parents knew, and they were okay with—”

“I know, and they also told me you wanted to go solo, instead of reaching anyone out.”

“…Okay.”

She stepped closer.

Not aggressive.

Just… firm.

“You are a kid,” she said.

“Pretty darn strong one,” I grinned.

“And you decided it was a good idea to go out and fight criminals and—what was it today?”

Mr Grayson answered. “Kaiju.”

She closed her eyes.

Just for a second.

“Of course it was.”

I shifted in place.

“I didn’t exactly plan that part.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I know.”

There was a pause.

Then her expression changed slightly.

Still serious.

But softer.

“Are you hurt?”

I blinked.

“…No?”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. I’m fine. Just—scratches.”

She studied me for a moment longer.

Then nodded once.

“Good.”

That… went better than expected.

Mr. Grayson spoke from behind me.

“He held it off, you should’ve seen him, he was doing great all things considered.”

Debbie glanced at him.

“And got thrown through multiple buildings.”

“Five,” I added.

She pointed at me without looking.

“Not helping.”

“Right.”

She exhaled.

Then turned toward the kitchen.

“Sit.”

I obeyed immediately.

I had them midwestern values ingrained in my DNA.

Mr Grayson followed, leaning casually against the counter like this was just another afternoon.

Debbie grabbed plates.

Set them down with practiced efficiency.

“You’re not doing this alone anymore,” she said. “Not always.”

I looked up.

“…What?”

She glanced at her husband.

Then back at me.

“You’re clearly not going to stop.”

That was… true.

“So if you’re going to keep doing this,” she continued, “then you’re going to do it properly.”

I blinked again.

“Properly?”

Mr Grayson pushed off the counter.

“Training,” he said simply.

Oh.

“…Oh.”

“You have potential,” he continued. “But you lack discipline. Experience. Control, a few months under my wing and you’ll be unstoppable.”

Debbie slid a plate toward me.

“Eat.”

I stared at it.

Then at her.

“…This feels like a trap.”

“It’s pizza, Clark.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I grabbed a slice.

Took a bite.

Paused.

“…This is really good.”

She gave me a look.

“It’s homemade.”

Yeah right, it comes from Walmart, but I can taste the love.

I chewed, then looked between them.

“So… training?”

“Yes,” Mr Grayson said.

“With you?”

“Yes.”

I swallowed.

“…Is that like a ‘start tomorrow’ thing or—”

“Tomorrow.”

Of course it was.

“Right.”

I took another bite.

Debbie leaned against the counter, watching me.

“You scared me,” she said.

That caught me off guard.

I looked up.

She wasn’t angry.

Not really.

Just… concerned.

She had probably seen me fight the thing during the emergency broadcast, and called Mr Grayson, which is why he came to the rescue.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

CECIL POV

I watched the kid get thrown through his third building and didn’t blink.

The screen flickered slightly as the feed adjusted—drone angle compensating for debris in the air. Smoke rolled across the beachfront, alarms blaring somewhere in the distance. Civilians were scattering in every direction, little heat signatures scrambling like ants under a magnifying glass.

And in the middle of all of it—

Superboy.

Clark Kent.

Twelve years old.

And currently getting introduced to the concept of limits.

I folded my hands behind my back.

“Velocity estimate?” I asked.

Beside me, Donald didn’t look away from his console.

“Initial impact registered at approximately Mach 2,” he said. “Secondary collision reduced it to subsonic before full stop. No structural damage to the subject.”

I nodded once.

“He’s very durable, isn’t he.”

On screen, the kid pushed himself out of the rubble again.

Still standing.

Still going back in.

Good.

That told me more than any lab test ever could.

“Should I alert the Guardians?” Donald asked.

I didn’t answer immediately.

The kaiju swung again—wide, heavy, no finesse. The kid tried to counter, shifted his stance, aimed for the jaw this time.

Better angle.

Wrong target.

He got sent flying again.

I exhaled slowly.

“No.”

Donald glanced at me briefly.

“No, sir?”

“No,” I repeated. “We’re not calling the Guardians.”

He turned back to the screen.

“The creature is causing significant structural damage. Civilian casualties are likely to increase if engagement continues without support.”

“I’m aware.”

Another impact.

Another building down.

The kid came back out of it slower this time.

Still moving.

Still thinking.

That’s what I was watching.

Not strength.

Not speed.

Decision-making under pressure.

“Dispatch evacuation teams,” I said. “Keep them two blocks back. I don’t want them in the impact zone.”

“Already in motion.”

Of course they were.

Donald was efficient.

That’s why I kept him around.

On screen, the kaiju turned toward a residential section.

A family stood frozen on the lawn.

I leaned forward slightly.

“Now let’s see what you do.”

The kid didn’t hesitate.

Good.

He moved fast—faster than most early reads suggested. Wrapped the creature, redirected momentum, pushed it away from civilians instead of engaging directly.

Prioritization.

Instinctive.

That wasn’t taught.

That was character.

“Not bad,” I murmured.

Donald’s fingers moved across the console.

“Strength output increasing,” he noted. “Still below projected maximum.”

The kid staggered.

Recovered.

Adjusted.

Again.

I watched the pattern.

Engage.

Test.

Get hit.

Adapt.

Repeat.

Sloppy.

Inefficient.

But effective enough to stay alive.

For now.

“He’s improvising,” Donald said.

“Yeah.”

“That is suboptimal.”

“It is.”

On screen, the kid got thrown again—this time into the beach, carving a trench through the sand.

He stayed down for a second longer than before.

I checked the vitals overlay.

Still stable.

Donald shifted slightly.

“Sir,” he said, “if we delay intervention further, the probability of critical escalation increases.”

I already knew that.

I didn’t respond.

Instead, I watched the kid stand back up.

Slow.

But steady.

He rolled his shoulders.

Went back in.

No hesitation.

I allowed myself a small nod.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “You’re not quitting. That’s something.”

Donald tilted his head.

“Is that sufficient?”

“No.”

The kaiju roared, swung again.

The kid ducked this time.

Better.

He grabbed the arm.

Tried to leverage it.

Smarter.

Still not enough.

The creature overpowered him again.

Sent him flying.

I let out a slow breath.

“Raw power’s there,” I said. “Control isn’t.”

Donald’s gaze flicked toward me.

“Sir—”

“I want to see how far the kid goes.”

There was a brief silence.

“Understood.”

On screen, the kid tackled the creature again—redirected it toward the beach.

Away from civilians.

Consistent priority.

Good.

Very good.

I checked the timer.

“Alright,” I said. “That’s enough data.”

Donald’s fingers hovered over the console.

“Action?”

I nodded once.

“Let the broadcast through.”

He didn’t ask which one.

He already knew.

“The Grayson residence,” he said.

“Yes.”

He tapped the command.

Somewhere across the city, a television feed shifted.

Emergency broadcast.

Live footage.

Front and center.

A kaiju.

And a kid getting thrown through buildings.

I folded my hands behind my back again.

“Nolan will see it,” I said.

Donald nodded.

“He will respond.”

“Of course he will, the kid is his kid’s best friend.”

Because that’s what heroes do.

And because—

I allowed myself the smallest, almost invisible smirk—

I wanted to see how the strongest man on the planet reacted to someone who might one day stand next to him.

Or against him if some of my suspicions were right.

On screen, the kid stood up again.

One more time.

Still not backing down.

I watched closely.

Measuring.

Calculating.

Because this wasn’t just about today.

This was about the future.

And I needed to know exactly what Clark Kent was capable of.