Late

Sorry I've been late posting chapters. I've been really busy. I'll try to write more as soon as I can.

Ghost of a Man

   "You didn't see anything else? Just the hat and coat?"

   "No. Nothing."

   Bruce couldn't abide his own ineptitude. How could he have let the shooter escape?

   Crispus looked him in the eye. "Bruce. You know this wasn't your fault."

   Bruce shook his head. "Doesn't matter."

   Crispus sighed. "Alright, well, we'll have forensics go over the coat and hat; there's gotta be a hair follicle or something in there."

   Bruce walked around the circus area, now covered in police tape and lights flashing red and blue.

   "Thank you," a voice said from behind. Bruce turned to see Mr. Haly.

   Bruce frowned. "For what?"

   "If you hadn't followed him, we wouldn't have a single lead. But the detective tells me they've already got one thanks to you."

   Bruce didn't tell Haly the harder truth: that even if they found DNA evidence in the clothing the shooter left behind, they'd still have to find someone to test it against. It wasn't as though Gotham kept a DNA record of every person that ever came through town.

   "Did he have a family?" Bruce asked.

   Haly shook his head. "No. Harry never even really had a girlfriend; he was sort of a loner like that. We always told him he should find somebody... I guess now it's better that he didn't."

   Bruce walked back over to Crispus, who was standing along the quiet edge of the circus finishing up a phone call.

   "Anything new?" Bruce asked as Crispus hung up.

   Crispus forced the exasperation out of his voice. "Not in the last five minutes, n—"

   Crispus suddenly stopped in mid-sentence and flinched. When he opened his eyes again, he looked awkwardly at Bruce.

   "Hey, uh, I know this is kinda weird, but... could you tell me again what happined here? And what you saw?"

   Bruce eyed Crispus suspiciously. Nothing about Crispus' mannerisms or voice sounded right.

   "What's with the Boston accent? And what are you talking about?"

   "Look, I just need you ta'—"

   "What's wrong with you?"

   "Nothin's wrong with me, I jus—"

   "Who are you?"

   Crispus stopped. Clearly, this kid just wasn't going to buy it.

   "Alright. Listen, um... I'm not Crispus. My name's Boston. Boston Brand. Yes, like the city, and yes, my accent's ironic, okay?"

   Bruce's mind whirled. Crispus wasn't one for jokes, nor was he the type to have schizophrenia. This was something different.

   Crispus continued. "I'm... well, a ghost. I got killed back in August. I needed to talk to ya, so I hopped inside Crispus here and—"

   Bruce's eyes were wide with apprehension; his hand darted inside his pocket and pulled out his cellphone, finding the speed-dial buttons as fast as possible.

   "Hey, wait a sec," Crispus tried to say, but Bruce wasn't listening anymore.

   A voice spoke over Bruce's phone. "Hey, handsome."

   "I need you here. Now."

   A second and a half later, a whirl of sparkling violet light appeared and disappeared, leaving Zatanna standing in its empty wake.

   "What's wrong?" she immediately asked Bruce.

   He pointed to Crispus. "He says he's a ghost inhabiting this man's body."

   Zatanna narrowed her eyes.

   "Leaver siht tirips!"

   A transparent image of a second figure appeared over Crispus. It was a slender man, dressed in dark red, with a chalk-white shrunken face.

   Crispus shrugged. "Told ya."

   Zatanna's eyes went wide. "Bruce, this spirit is incredibly strong. I can't exorcise it without preparation."

   Crispus raised his hand. "Guys—"

   "What do you need?" Bruce asked Zatanna.

   "Uh, guys—"

   "I'll need a bucket of water, three bat wings, and a—"

   "GUYS!"

   Bruce and Zatanna stopped and looked at Crispus.

   "You don't need ta exorcise me. I don't wanna cause no trouble. I just need your help."

   Bruce and Zatanna exchanged a confused look.

   Wayne Manor stood like an ancient monument. While still within Gotham City limits, it stood separate from the rest of the city, atop a cliffside on the other side of Gotham river. It was huge; huge and empty. The massive rooms were full of paintings, sculptures, suits of armor, and ornate furniture—but rarely any people. Out of twelve bedrooms, only two were in use—one tiny room for Alfred, who kept it clean enough that no one would have known he was even there, and the gigantic master bedroom for Bruce.

   "Man, I'm dead an' I feel cold in here."

   Alfred gave the floating image of Boston a look crossed between indignance and fright. He was unaccustomed to having a visible ghost in his home.

   Boston had slipped back out of Crispus' body without a fuss and followed Bruce and Zatanna to Wayne Manor. Now that Zatanna had cast her spell on him, everyone could see and hear Boston even though he didn't have an actual body.

   Bruce leaned over his computer desk, typing at the keyboard.

   "Is this it?" he asked.

   "Yeah," Boston replied grimly. "That's it."

   Bruce clicked the video link.

   A one-ring circus, not unlike Haly's, was in the middle of a show.

   The announcer yelled into his microphone. "Introducing the one, the only, the daring DEADMAN!"

   As the audience cheered, a man in dark red spandex and a white ghost-like mask jumped onto the trapeze. Before he finished his second swing, however, a gunshot sounded off and "Deadman" fell to the ground.

   "That was you?" Zatanna asked.

   "Yeah" Boston replied. "That's why I look like this, I guess. I died in my Deadman outfit, so I'm stuck this way. Not that people can normally see me or anything."

   "But I don't get it," said Zatanna. "Spirits pass on immediately after death. Why are you still here? And why can you possess people so easily?"

   "It's, ah... it's a gift."

   "From who?"

   "Rama Kushna."

   A flicker of recognition went through Zatanna's eyes. "The goddess of karma?"

   "Yeah, somethin' like that. When I died, I saw these huge eyes lookin' down on me from the sky, and heard her voice. She said I had more to do in death than I did in life. I'm supposed to do somethin' here before I can pass on. Help people usin' my power, and try to find my murderer."

   "And you think that this shooter is the same one that killed you seven months ago,"

   "Yeah."

   Bruce turned to Zatanna. "This all sound right to you?"

   Zatanna shrugged. "Yeah, actually. It does. I think he's telling the truth."

   The frown that Bruce had been wearing since the shooting seemed to get worse. He stood up and walked to the nearby window.

   Boston looked at Alfred. "Was it somethin' I said?"

   Alfred shrugged, as if to say "he just does that."

   Zatanna put her arm around Bruce. "Hey. Are you okay?"

   "No. No I'm not. A man was shot to death in front of me, and I... I couldn't stop it, and I couldn't even catch him afterwards. Now a... ghost is in my bedroom, and... I just..."

   Bruce seemed frustrated at the very air in front of his face.

   "Nothing makes any sense!"

   "Bruce, things don't always have to make sense. Sometimes things just are the way they are."

   "No! There has to be a way. Somehow, there's always an answer. There has to be! There just..."

   "This isn't about the clown, or about Boston, is it?"

   Bruce didn't answer.

   "It's about Lois, isn't it?"

   Again, Bruce was silent.

   "You can't hold yourself responsible for her."

   "I should have just left her out of it."

   "She made her own choices; it's not your fault."

   Almost instinctively, Bruce looked up at the huge portrait of his parents hanging on the wall nearby.

   Zatanna moved in front of him. "Bruce, listen to me. You're not failing them. You're not. You're human, and that's all they'd ever want you to be."

   "I made an oath, Zatanna. And I plan to keep it."

   "You're sure you don' know anythin' about how the Socks did last season?"

   "Sir, honestly, I've never followed baseball in my life. Couldn't you just... float away and go find out for yourself?"

   Alfred was relieved to see Bruce return from his usual dramatic window-staring.

   "So, hey, Bruce," Boston said. "I had an idea about one way we could track this guy down."

   "What?"

   "Well... if I, uh, jump inside ya, our minds can link. Maybe between the two of us, we can piece together somethin' about the killer."

   "Uh-uh. No."

   "Aw, c'mon!" Boston pleaded. "You won't feel a thing."

   "Bruce," Zatanna said, "this might be the best way to find the shooter. Boston's not shown us any reason to doubt him yet."

   Bruce sighed. "Fine. Do it fast."

   Boston dove into Bruce's chest, completely disappearing inside him.

   Bruce and Bostons' memories swirled about them like a pool full of paint. Boston saw Bruce's perspective: the man standing in the tent supports; the gun barrel, a glint of metal. Bruce saw Boston's perspective: from high above the ring, looking down at a muzzle flash somewhere within the crowd—along with a similar glint of metal. Bruce had assumed that that metallic shine was from the gun, but now that he had two perspectives, it seemed to be something else entirely. Gradually, the image that both Bruce and Boston held in their minds merged, and they both saw the shining object: a steel hook where the shooter's left hand would have been.

Circus Act

   A funny thing about Gotham City: the walls of every alley seem to lean in, like a giant black coffin. In many cases, that analogy is more fact than metaphor.
   Crispus Allen stood solemnly over the dead girl's body. He always took a brief moment before examining each crime scene body, partly out of respect for the dead, and partly in order to begin focusing on the task at hand.
   A female voice echoed from the end of the alleyway.
   "Detective! The boy's here."
   Crispus glanced down the alley and saw his partner, Renee Montoya, standing next to eighteen-year-old Bruce Wayne on the other side of the police tape.
   "Let him in."
   Bruce and Renee both ducked under the tape and moved to meet Crispus.
   "Detective," Bruce said with a polite nod. "Another one?"
   "Yeah. Third this week."
   Bruce knelt beside the body. "Blonde hair, mid-twenties, about 5'7''. Just like the others. Any ID?"
   "Whoever killed her didn't take the wallet this time. Her name's Joanna Harper. A student at Gotham U."
   Bruce narrowed his eyes. "The killer didn't take her wallet?"
   "Nope. What does that tell you?"
   Bruce took a few seconds to think it over.
   "Either the killer was interrupted and had to run, or he was never after the money in the first place."
   "Not after the money? How do you figure that?"
   "This is the third girl of the exact same age, height, and hair color found in an alley with her throat slit inside of a week. This is serial-killer work. He finds girls who fit very specific parameters and murders them in the exact same way every time. Whoever's killing these girls is doing it out of a pathological obsession, not greed or desperation. There's no reason for him to take their wallets unless he just feels like it, or if he's trying to throw us off."
   Crispus felt proud of his unofficial student. "Good thinking," he said.
   He glanced at Renee. She seemed a bit uneasy. Thinking about it, Crispus guessed that he really should be, too. Bruce seemed to have a kind of intuition for criminology, the kind that meant he was either brilliant or horribly twisted. Or he just watched a billion of those damned CSI shows.
   Bruce only nodded slightly in return, straight-faced.
   Crispus, more than most others, recognized the flat, jaded look that Bruce often wore: the look of someone who's lost everything. Crispus knew what had happened to Bruce's parents; it was the only reason he'd agreed to let Bruce shadow him on these cases. If Bruce kept along this path, he'd probably make a great detective one day.
   Bruce's phone beeped.
   "Sorry; I need to run. I'll catch up with you in a few hours."
   Bruce turned and quickly left the alley the way he'd come.
   Crispus shook his head. Then again, if Bruce kept up that kind of behavior, he'd be lucky to graduate above beat cop.

   On the edge of the city, near the docks, a gigantic red tent stood next to a ferris wheel. Haly's Circus, one of the last true traditional one-ring traveling circuses, was enjoying an extended stay in Gotham.
   Bruce drove up and parked around the backside of the tent. The last show of the day had ended three hours ago; the place was deserted aside from the circus workers themselves. Bruce walked inside the tent and was immediately greeted by a redheaded girl.
   "Bruce! Hey!"
   Bruce returned a smile. "Hey, Mary."
   Mary's boyfriend, a black-haired boy named John, did a backflip off an overhead balcony and landed in front of Bruce and Mary.
   "Bruce! Didn't think you'd make it tonight," he said, shaking Bruce's hand.
   "I was on the other side of the island; sorry I'm late."
   John glanced at a clock. Bruce was two minutes late. "Um, yeah, you're fine. You ready?"
   Bruce nodded.

   "Watch your balance. Spread your arms a bit more."
   Bruce struggled to stay balanced on the tightrope. He'd been told by Zatara that he had incredible balance, but on an inch-thick rope that didn't matter much. As Bruce wobbled nervously, John walked effortlessly across the rope to meet Bruce in the middle.
   "See here? Hold your hips a little more to the right. Keep your knees a little bit loose."
   Bruce adjusted accordingly, and he stabilized.
   "Good. Now try to stay on the rope while I jump."
   Mr. Haly, the circus owner, a red-haired rotund man in his late forties, walked up beside Mary, who was watching from the floor.
   "How's he doing?" Haly asked.
   "Really well, for a beginner," Mary answered. "He's still really shaky, but he's already learned around a couple years' worth of gymnastics."
   "In just the three weeks he's been here?"
   "Yeah. It probably helps that John and I are putting him through the crash course and everything, but he really does have a gift for this sort of thing. Are you sure he doesn't want to become a performer?"
   "You can ask him yourself, but yeah. He said all he wanted was to learn gymnastics from the best, but he didn't want to join up. I asked if he wanted to go to the Olympics or something; he said no, he just wanted to learn. And he's paying us a ridiculous amount of money for it, so I left it at that."
   "Huh. Well that sucks. We could really use another one. A trapeze act with only two people isn't as much of a crowd-pleaser."
   Haly gave Mary a wry smile. "Well, if you and John would just get hitched and start making more little acrobats, we wouldn't have this problem."
   "Mr. Haly!"
   Mary blushed, but couldn't stop herself from smiling like a mad person.
   Up above, John backflipped, sending a bounce across the rope. Bruce wobbled horribly and fell off, landing in the net sixty feet below. Mary, Haly, and John all laughed at him. Bruce wasn't amused, but that made it all the funnier.

   The next evening, Bruce decided to go see one of the circus' shows. Bruce was never one to be impressed by anything, but he had to admit that he was very impressed with everything he saw. John and Mary, of course, were amazing. The animal trainers were masters at getting a reaction both from their animals and from the audience. The clowns were decidedly less incredible, but then again, they were clowns. Cheap laughs are what they're for.
   As the show came to its climax, all the acts went on at once. The clowns drove their tiny car in circles around the ring, while the fire-breathers, animals, and everyone else intermixed in the center. John and Mary did flips across the open air above. As the crowd roared with applause, Bruce could barely hear a muffled bang.
   One of the clowns that hung out of the tiny car's open door fell to the ground and laid there, perfectly still. As the seconds passed, a few others near him started to look down with worried faces. From this distance, Bruce could barely see a red stain on the clown's white shirt.
   The crowd began to gasp and chatter immediately. A woman somewhere screamed. Bruce realized what was happening and instantly began searching furiously for where the shot had come from. He looked upward, toward the wooden beams at the top of the tent, and saw a glint of bright metal next to a large gun-barrel held by a figure in silhouette. Bruce scanned the rest of the support structure and found a path across the beams. Bruce shoved his way through the crowd as fast as he could, keeping his eyes on the man in shadow. He climbed up onto a horizontal beam near the top of the tiered seats and began making his way toward the shadowed man. The man quickly turned around and jumped out a slit in the side of the tent; Bruce began to run. He focused. I can't miss this, he told himself. This isn't the time to fall. He jumped to another beam and kept running; bounced off a vertical beam and landed right on the tiny wooden platform that the gunman had been sitting on. He put his head through the slit in the fabric and looked down. The man—who, as if to be as stereotypical as possible, was wearing a trenchcoat and hat—had just landed at the base of the tent, and began working his way into the crowd. Bruce jumped out of the tent and slid down its side, landing and crashing into a woman at the bottom. He tossed a half-hearted apology her way as he got back up and tried to follow the shooter's path. Unfortunately, word of the shooting had now spread outside the tent, and the entire crowd was now rushing towards the parking lot. Bruce nearly got trampled in the swarm of bodies, and completely lost track of the shooter. Whoever he was, there was no way to find him in this chaos.

Sunset

   Chloe and Diana barely had enough time to pull Clark out of the greenhouse, wake him up, and get their story straight before the police showed up. They simply told Sheriff Ethan Miller the truth—or part of it, at least. They had, on a hunch, decided to visit Gina to see if she had anything to do with Ms. Desmond's freakout. Given that Chloe was the EIC of the Smallville Torch, that seemed reasonable. When they got there and found the poisonous plant, Gina attacked them. Clark passed out because he's "allergic" to the meteor rocks, but Diana showed up and helped stop Gina from killing Chloe. No one even tried to explain the octopus vine plant, which was now partially burnt up.

   Eventually, Ethan just sighed and let it go. He'd known the Kents all his life and had no reason to doubt Clark, and Gina certainly wasn't helping her case.

   "LET ME GO! I'LL STRANGLE YOU ALL!!" Gina screamed as the police shoved her into the back of a patrol car. Gina stretched out her arms and focused as hard as she could, but nothing happened. None of her plants moved.

   Ethan turned to the kids. "You three really should have come to the police first, not tried to confront her."

   "It was just a hunch," Chloe said. "If we'd known she'd go all psycho on us, we would've done things differently."

   "Alright, you kids get home now."

   The kids nodded and left. As soon as they were out of earshot, Chloe spun and stared Clark in the eyes. 

   "We need to talk. NOW."

   "What was that?!?" Chloe said as they entered the Torch office.

   "I guess you were right about the meteors; they really do affect people," Clark said.

   "Not that! I meant about you! And the whole fainting thing! And what was happening with your skin?"

   "...I don't know. I've only felt like that a few times before, and never that badly. Felt like I was... dying."

   Diana and Chloe both looked at each other worriedly.

   "...But you're okay now?" Diana asked.

   "Yeah. I feel fine."

   Chloe narrowed her eyes. "Clark, when did you feel like that before?"

   "Just a little bit, a few times when Pete, Greg and I went playing in the forest. There were a few spots that just made me feel... sick."

   A lightbulb went off in Chloe's head. "Clark! The meteor shower sprayed meteors all over Smallville! They cleaned up all the ones in the city and along the main roads, but the countryside still has meteors all over it. You must have stumbled across them in the woods."

   "But why would the meteors affect me?"

   Chloe thought it over. "Wait. When did your spaceship land here?"

   "October 26, 1997."

   "The day of the meteor shower?!"

   "Yeah."

   "Y'know, you might have mentioned that little coincidence before."

   Clark shrugged. "Sorry?"

   "Didn't you once say that your planet was destroyed?" Diana said.

   "That's what the recording I was given said."

   Diana turned to Chloe. "And didn't you say before that the meteors contain an element not found on Earth?"

   Clark caught on. "Wait... are you saying that you think the meteors are from my home planet? Krypton?"

   Chloe almost jumped. "That makes total sense! That's why their radiation affects you and only you!"

   "Their radiation?" Clark said quizzically.

   "Yeah; scientific scans found an unusual, unique low-level radiation emanating from the meteors, but it was deemed too insignificant to be harmful."

   "...Except to me."

   "Yeah... are you sure you're okay?"

   Clark glanced at his previously-bleeding knuckles. They were perfectly healed. "Yeah... I'm great. As soon as I got away from the meteors and back in the sunlight I felt better."

   "So... if they're from Krypton, are they... kryptonium?" Diana asked.

   "Actually," Clark corrected, "since they're meteorites it'd be called kryptonite."

   Diana and Chloe both rolled their eyes.

   "You're such a science nerd," Chloe teased.

   Clark stared out at the sunset from the loft of the Kent barn.

   "Do you want to be alone?" Diana asked as she walked up behind him.

   Clark turned and smiled. "Nah, you're fine."

   Diana sometimes forgot how dazzling Clark's smile sometimes was. She nearly blushed.

   "Are you okay?" Diana asked.

   Clark frowned. "Yeah. Just a little rattled I guess."

   "I can imagine."

   "It used to be that no matter where you were in Smallville, you were home. I always felt safe here."

   Diana smirked. "I wouldn't have thought that you'd worry about being safe."

   "I just mean that... that things used to be more... comforting. But now, with all that stuff with Gina, I just... I can barely believe it."

   "Why do you think her powers didn't work when she was arrested?"

   "I don't know. Maybe she hadn't eaten any of those plants recently enough. Maybe she could only control the ones in the greenhouse. Maybe Chloe hit her harder than she thought."

   Diana laughed. "I have to admit, I totally did not see that coming from her."

   "Heh. Chloe can surprise you."

   Diana paused. "...She's really special to you, isn't she?"

   "...Yeah, she is."

   Clark suddenly realized what Diana meant.

   "No. Wait! No, not like that!"

   Diana raised a teasing eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

   "I..." Clark sighed. "I don't think I want to be dating anyone. Not for a while."

   Diana saw Clark's sudden sadness. His optimistic attitude didn't let it show much, but he was still hurting from losing Lois.

   Diana hugged his arm and gave him a "cheer up" smile. Clark appreciated the sentiment.

   "So... you tried out for cheerleading?"

   Diana winced. "Let's just not talk about that, okay?"

   Clark almost chuckled. "Okay. What do you wanna talk about?"

   "I dunno. Hey, there's a sunset."

   "Hey, there is. Sunsets are cool."

   "Yup."

   "...Hey, Clark, where do you think Bruce is right now?"

Investigations

   Two days after the incident with Gina and Ms. Desmond, things were fine. Gina didn't say a word, and Ms. Desmond remained as curt and dispassionate as ever.

   "Please turn in your homework assignments," Ms. Desmond said.

   All the students looked at each other.

   "Uh, ma'am?" one boy said. "You didn't give us any homework."

   Ms. Desmond's eyes narrowed fiercely. "Oh I didn't, did I?"

   Several other students cautiously shook their heads.

   "You think this is funny?" she asked the class.

   Clark and Diana glanced at each other with mutual confusion.

   "I assigned you a three-page paper on William Wordsworth, due today!"

   "Um, ma'am, no; no you didn't," said the same boy from before.

   Ms. Desmond rose from her seat and slowly began making her way towards the boy's desk. Clark noticed her hands clenched tight and trembling. "Jake, let me be very clear. I will not tolerate any of my students playing games with me, or encouraging fellow students to do so either."

   "No, Miss Desmond! I swear! I—"

   Desmond slapped him hard across the face.

   "LIAR!"

   The rest of the class jumped with surprise. Ms. Desmond's face was livid.

   "YOU... YOU J- YOU...."

   Desmond clamped her hands around Jake's neck and began choking him. All the students jumped up from their seats. Clark quickly moved over and gently-but-firmly pushed Desmond away. Jake coughed as he regained the ability to breathe. Desmond screamed and lunged at Clark; he spun her around and held her arms behind her back. Desmond was practically a rabid dog. She snarled, struggled, and yelled obscenities at everyone in the room. Clark awkwardly held her back but had no idea what to do with her; the school didn't really keep security around during the day. Diana backhanded Desmond in the forehead, knocking her out.

   Clark looked at Diana as if to say, "was that really necessary?"

   Diana shrugged.

   During lunchbreak, Clark, Diana, and Chloe watched the police carry an unconscious Ms. Desmond away on a stretcher.

   "I can't believe she'd actually do something like that," said Chloe, snapping photos of the police as she talked.

   "I wouldn't have either if I hadn't seen it," said Clark.

   Chloe sighed and frowned. Clark recognized it as Chloe's "something's not right here" look.

   "What is it?" Clark asked.

   "People don't just start strangling kids at the drop of a hat. Whatever's wrong with her must have been going on for a while."

   "I guess so. I wish we'd known before. Someone should have noticed something."

   "She did give a 4.0 student a C," Diana added.

   "Yeah," said Clark. "Maybe Gina didn't actually deserve that grade."

   "Wait," Chloe said. "Gina. That's it."

   "You think Gina's somehow behind this?" Clark said incredulously.

   "Maybe!" Chloe said. "Think about it. A 4.0 student and a strict English teacher should be best friends, not mortal enemies. There's gotta be more to this."

   "Chloe, that doesn't even make sense."

   "Not yet," Chloe said, pulling out her phone. "But it will eventually. Hang on, I gotta make a call."

   Clark and Diana walked into the Torch office after class on Thursday, greeted by a caffeine-fueled hyperactive Chloe.

   "Clark! Look at what I found!"

   Diana noted that Chloe didn't acknowledge her and rolled her eyes.

   "Look here," said Chloe, handing Clark a printout.

   "Chloe, this is... a toxicology report from Smallville General. How did you get this?"

   Chloe beamed. "I know a guy there. You'd be surprised what a smile can getcha."

   Clark gave her an "oh really" look.

   Chloe rolled her eyes. "I told him if he gave me a copy of the report, I wouldn't tell his girlfriend that he's been hitting on Alicia Baker. Anyway, look at the results."

   Clark scanned them. "She had hallucinogenic drugs in her system."

   "Yes, in the exact combination that comes from a specific plant: Datura stramonium, commonly known as Jimson weed or Devil's weed."
   "So she's been doing drugs?" Diana asked.
   "Not likely," Chloe said, "this isn't something that people use for that sort of thing; Jimson weed is fatally poisonous; it only gives you the psychological effects without the death if you cut it and prepare it just right. And besides, Miss Desmond's not the druggie type."
   "So you think she was poisoned," said Clark.
   "Yeah. And fortunately for us, Jimson weed isn't at all common to Kansas; whoever poisoned Miss Desmond almost definitely grew it themselves. And guess whose family owns a plant shop with a giant private greenhouse?"
   "Gina Halley," Clark said with realization.
   "All we need to do," said Chloe, "is get into that greenhouse and see if Gina's growing any Jimson weed in there."
   "Hold on," said Clark, "we should take this to the Police."
   "And say what? That I got illegally-obtained information and have ideas about it? I'm going to the Halleys' greenhouse, Clark. You can come with me or not."
   Chloe grabbed her coat and walked out the door.
   "Chloe!" Clark said with a sigh.
   "Is she seriously gonna break into their greenhouse?" Diana asked.
   "Yeah. I think so. I'd better go with her; she might get in trouble. You coming?"
   Diana awkwardly shifted on her feet. "Um... actually, I have cheerleading tryouts."
   Clark was surprised. "Really? Cheerleading?"
   "Well... I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't really have anything to do around here, and... no one really thinks much of me."
   "Diana..." Clark really needed to catch up with Chloe. "Hold that thought. We'll talk tonight, okay?"
   Clark ran out the doorway.

   "Help me open this lock," Chloe whispered to Clark.
   "What do you want me to do, break it?" Clark whispered back.
   "Well..." Chloe half-shrugged.
   Clark rolled his eyes. "You'd better be right about this." He held the padlock in his fingers and pinched. It crumbled in his hand.
   The Halleys' plant shop closed at three on weekdays; both it and its attached greenhouse were deserted.
   Clark and Chloe walked quietly through the rows of plants. "What does it look like?" Clark asked.

   "Purplish-green stem, big leaves, little white flower in the middle."
   Chloe and Clark looked around for a few minutes, but didn't see it. Eventually, Clark noticed a door in the shadows towards the back of the room. "Hey, Chloe," he called. "There's another part of the greenhouse."
   Chloe softly ran over. "That must be the private section they don't let customers in."
   They walked to the door. Clark reached for the knob, but paused before touching it.
   "What is it?" Chloe asked.
   "Nothing, just... something feels off."
   Clark grabbed the knob and twisted it hard, breaking through the handle-lock. He gently pushed the door open and they both walked inside.
   It was dimly lit, mostly by red and green lights dispersed around the room. Chloe instantly spotted a Jimson weed plant on her right. She grinned. "Gotcha."
   As she moved closer to examine the plant, she noticed green light glowing from underneath the plant's soil. Curious, she reached into the soil and pulled out a small rock with glowing green bits running through it. Chloe's eyes widened as she realized what it was: a meteor rock.
   She spun around. "Clark! This is a meteor—"
   Clark was on his knees, breathing heavily. His skin was losing color, and some of his veins were turning green and bulging.
   Chloe felt a tingle of panic run up her spine. She'd never seen Clark hurt before. At all. She glanced around the room. Every single square foot of soil in the room was filled with meteor rocks. The green glowing in the room wasn't because of any lights; it was because of the meteor rocks.
   "What the HELL are you two doing here?" a voice said from the open door. It was Gina Halley.
   Chloe nearly jumped. "Gina!"
   "That's my name," Gina said. "Now what. Are. You. Doing. Here."
   Chloe stared Gina down across the room. "You poisoned Miss Desmond, didn't you?"
   Gina smirked. "What if I did?"
   Chloe raised her eyebrows. "Wow. Okay. Just coming right out with it, then. Okay, well, we'll just leave."
   Chloe's feet were stuck to the floor. She looked down and saw thick, green vines clamping her feet to the ground.
   "What the..."
   She looked back up at Gina. Gina smirked again.
   A vine reached around Chloe's neck like a human arm and pulled back hard. Chloe choked as more vines flew from behind her, wrapping around her limbs. She felt herself lifted and pulled backwards. Over her shoulder she glimpsed a gigantic plant, its vines undulating like octopus arms as it drew her closer.
   Gina resisted the urge to giggle slightly under her breath. She turned back towards Clark, and ended up with Clark's fist slamming into her face.
   Gina staggered backwards. Her face had brown cracks across it, like broken tree bark. A line of blood dripped from her nose; it glittered with tiny green specks.
   Clark could barely stand on his feet; he was sweating and his knuckles bled slightly from that punch.
   The skin on Gina's face crackled and fell off; a brand-new layer of skin underneath looked perfectly healthy.
   "These meteor rocks really do wonders for helping plants grow. And apparently, months of eating those plants gives you certain... gifts."
   "Let her go," Clark said weakly.
   Gina raised her arm towards Clark, and a swarm of vines reached toward him, slamming him against the opposite wall. "You should really be more concerned about yourself right now."
   The glass wall separating the two sections of the greenhouse shattered. Gina felt herself suddenly lifted off her feet by her neck. She looked down into the eyes of her attacker. Diana glared back with an untempered fire.
   "Let. Them. Go."
   Gina coughed. "Go to hell, princess."
   Diana threw Gina against a wall and ran towards Chloe, ripping off the vine clamped across her neck.  Chloe gasped for air.
   Diana suddenly felt herself pulled back by a dozen arms and slammed into the wall next to Clark. Gina stood up. "Okay, that's it. The hell with all of you. You're dead now."
   "You can't!" said Chloe. "People will find out what happened!"
   "They'll find out what?" Gina said sarcastically. "That a bunch of plants came and killed everyone? Yeah, that's totally my fault. Whatever. Die."
   Gina ripped one of the Jimson weed plants and shoved it in Chloe's face. "Here; eat. It's pure; it'll kill you quick."
   Chloe kept her mouth shut. From across the room, Clark could see tears running down Chloe's face.
   "Fine," Gina said, "I'll just squeeze you to death."
   The vines around Chloe began contracting. Her already-small frame seemed like it would snap at any moment; her face went red from all the blood rushing to her head.

   Clark felt desperate. The more he saw her face in agony, the more he felt himself fill with anger.
   "HEEARGGGH!!"
   He roared and tore through the vines. Gina turned around and fell backwards with fear. Clark's eyes were glowing red-hot. He stared hard at the vines holding Chloe; lines of heat fired from his eyes and hit the plant, setting parts of it on fire and searing off some of the vines. Gina screamed at Clark; every plant in the room seemed to explode at him, sending a shower of dirt and meteor rocks in his direction. He fell unconscious instantly.
   Gina stood up and breathed heavily, still wide-eyed and bewildered by what she'd just seen. She glanced at Diana; saw that she was still completely pinned. She turned back to Chloe... and Chloe was gone, only burnt vines left in her place. Chloe's voice sounded off to the right.
   "Lights out, bitch."
   The last thing Gina saw was the end of a fire extinguisher ramming into her forehead.

First Day

   Diana hopped off the bus and stared nervously at Smallville High.
   Before, when she'd been at Metropolis High—and before that, at Hammond High in Coast City—she lived with the knowledge that she was, for all intents and purposes, a superior being. She was an Amazon princess, there only to learn of humanity—not to be a human herself. Now Diana looked at the people walking in and out of the school and realized that she was just as human as anyone else here. She wasn't the heir to a legendary destiny; she wasn't royalty. She was a normal girl, no better or more special than anyone else.
   A group of girls walked up the steps to the school's front door. One of them tripped and skinned her knee. Diana saw a drop of blood on the girl's leg and paused for a moment. Inwardly, she sighed with relief. There was still one way in which she was better than the average teenager: she still had her powers.
   Diana held her head up a little higher with mock-superiority and followed Clark toward the school.

   Clark barely managed to get within a hundred feet of the building before a little blonde shape started running and yelling at him.
   "Clark! Clark!"
   Chloe came to an abrupt halt two feet in front of Clark, beaming.
   Clark began to smile back, but nearly stopped when he saw her face. Something around her eyes; her mouth... it reminded him of Lois. Sometimes he forgot they were cousins. Clark forced a smile and hugged her. He was genuinely happy to see her, after all.

   Chloe peered around Clark's side and saw Diana.
   Clark noted the surprised frown on Chloe's face.
   "Diana transferred to Smallville High this semester," he explained. "She's living with us at the farm for a while."
   Diana gave a friendly wave from a distance.
   Chloe shifted to the right, where Clark was blocking the view.
   "She's staying with you guys?"
   "Um... yeah. She didn't really have a place to go. She and her mom kind of had a falling out."
   "Okay... um... cool then. We can always use more..."—Chloe glanced over at Diana again—"...really tall supermodels at this school."
   Clark hastily tried to change the subject.
   "Is Pete around?"
   Chloe frowned again. "Um, no. He moved away to live with his mom in Wichita."
   "What?! Why?"
   "Who's Pete?" Diana asked as she walked up to meet them.
   "Clark's only other friend in Smallville," Chloe said with a teasing look.
   "Chloe! That's not true!" Clark said, slightly embarrassed. "I have other friends."
   "Name one."
   "...Well, there's Greg Arkin—"
   "Who you and Pete stopped talking to back in 6th grade? Uh-huh. Keep going."
   "Lana Lang."
   "The head cheerleader you stared at from a mile away all of Freshman year? You wish."
   "...Um... Sean Kelvin?"
   "He's a complete douchebag and you've always hated him."
   Clark rolled his eyes with exasperation. "Okay, so I really only hung out with you and Pete. Why'd he leave, anyway?"
   Chloe scrunched up her face and looked away awkwardly. "He professed his love for me and I told him I just wanted to be friends."
   "...Oh. And I guess since he didn't have any other friends around here either, there wasn't much reason for him to stay."
   "Yeah."

   "So... what've you been doing since he's been gone? I don't remember you having too many other friends either."
   "Funny you should ask," she said with a grin. "I've made a ton of new additions to the Wall of Weird."
   "The what?" Diana asked.
   "You'll see," Clark said.

   Chloe led them into the school and down the hall towards the office of the Smallville Torch—Smallville High's school paper.
   "Wait a second," Diana said, staring at the name on the office's main desk. "You're the EIC of your school's paper too? Just like your cousin?"
   "Are you kidding me?" Chloe said flippantly. "I'm the one who gave her the idea. She was all 'I'm gonna be an Army girl!' before I told her I wanted to work for the Daily Planet, and then she was all 'I'm gonna be a reporter!'" Chloe's face saddened a little. "...but I guess she made a better reporter than... than I..."
   Clark interrupted. "So! You were talking about the Wall?"
   "Right!" Chloe said, snapping out of her thoughts. She led them to the office's darkroom—which went completely unused, this being the digital age after all—and flipped on the light. An entire wall of the tiny space was covered in taped-up newspaper clipping and photos. Diana glanced over some of the headlines:
   "MAN LOSES FINGER ON LEFT HAND; GAINS ONE ON RIGHT."
   "BLIND BOY GAINS EYESIGHT; LOSES HEARING."
   "TEENAGER DISAPPEARS DURING METEOR SHOWER; REAPPEARS TWELVE YEARS LATER WITHOUT AGING."
   "FLYING GOATS?"

   "So, basically," Chloe explained, "there was a meteor shower here twelve years ago. After that, things in Smallville got... weird. Freaky mutations, mysterious disappearances, everything you can think of."
   "Have you ever actually seen any of these... 'weird' things?"
   "Well it's not like they just parade around," Chloe said indignantly, "but you can see all the evidence here. It's just too big to ignore."
   The bell rang.
   "We'd better go," Clark said to Diana. "Meet you for lunch?" he asked Chloe.
   "Sure!" Chloe replied, her face beaming again.
   Diana whispered to Clark once they got into the hall. "So, is she just crazy, or are there really mutant people running around Smallville?"
   "Well, I'm an alien and you're an Amazon, so I figure we should give her the benefit of the doubt."

   "A C?!? HOW IS THIS A C, MISS DESMOND?!"
   The other students in classroom looked at each other with bewilderment. Their in-class writing assignment had been tough, and Miss Desmond was known for her harsh (and quick) grading, but Gina's response seemed a little disproportionate.
   "A C is what that paragraph deserved, Miss Halley," Ms. Desmond replied.
   "You spent literally ten seconds reading it!"
   "I read fast, and it wasn't hard to grade. It's mid-level work at best. Now take your seat."
   The bell rang. Gina stormed back to pick up her bag and left.
   Clark and Diana left the classroom and met Chloe outside.
   "Something wrong with Gina?" Chloe asked, watching as Gina practically stomped her feet down the hallway.
   "She completely blew up in there," Clark said. "Miss Desmond gave her a C on an in-class writing assignment."
   "Eeeesh. No wonder she's mad."
   "Is she known for doing that?" Diana asked.
   "Gina's one of the top students at the school," Chloe explained. "Perfect 4.0 GPA. Also a type-A bitch queen, but she's never blown up before."
   "I hope she's okay," Clark said concernedly.
   Diana smiled at his empathy. Chloe interpreted Diana's smile as "oh, it's funny how you actually care about the little peasant-people."

Sunrise

   The bright morning Kansas sun shone in through the windows of the Kent home. Diana stood in the kitchen, letting the rays soak into her skin. It felt warm; comforting. Something about this place felt... right. And yet Diana had never been more confused in her life.
   "Coffee warm enough for you?" a warm voice said at her side.
   Diana glanced at the cup in her hand, then gave a polite smile. "Oh, yes, Mrs. Kent. Thank you."
   Martha smiled back at Diana, but her sharp eyes detected the sixteen-year-old's distress.
   "Something on your mind?"
   Diana quietly stared into her coffee. "...I don't know."
   Martha leaned in to peer into Diana's eyes. "You know, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here. I promise not to tell anyone."
   Diana felt a bit touched by Martha's kindness.
   "I guess I just don't know what I'm doing here. I mean, you've been amazing, and I'm really grateful that you guys took me in and everything. But this isn't my life. Not the one I was supposed to have."
   "What life were you supposed to have?"
   Martha and Jonathan had been told everything already, but Martha knew that Diana needed to talk it out.
   "I was... I was training to be the Amazons' Ambassador of Truth to the world of man."
   "The world of man?"
   "Yes. 'Patriarch's World,' as my mother sometimes called it. I was primarily supposed to be the ambassador to America, since it's the closest thing the world has to a leading nation."
   "The world isn't just controlled by men, you know."
   Diana sighed. "Yeah, but from the perspective of a thousand women who've lived for a thousand years alone on an island with no men, everything is masculine by comparison. My job was supposed to be to 'teach' the world the proper way to live, according to the gods' decree."
   Martha wrinkled her nose slightly at that. Diana didn't notice.
   "...And then I... died. I think. It felt like dying. Like the life left me, or like I was leaving my body, or... I don't know."
   Diana was having trouble finding the words. Martha took Diana's hand and squeezed it comfortingly.
   "When I woke up, that 'Phantom Stranger' told me that the gods had put me together wrong, and Clark said that they were unwilling to... to fix me. They abandoned me."
   The coffee in Diana's cup trembled slightly.
   "I was supposed to be their ambassador, and they left me dead."
   "Sounds like they're not really the gods you thought they were."
   A year ago, Diana might have slapped Martha for speaking such blasphemy. But now, she was surprised at how she didn't react in the slightest. She had to admit that she'd been thinking similar thoughts herself.
   "The Phantom Stranger said he served 'a higher power.' I wish I knew what he meant by that."
   Martha smirked. "Well, you're welcome to come to church with us anytime you like."
   Welcome. At the sound of that word, a deep sadness washed across Diana's eyes.
   "What's wrong?" Martha asked.
   "Amazons aren't allowed to just leave Themyscira without permission," Diana explained. "Anyone who leaves is barred from returning; it's a law my mother laid down. And now I'm banished from the island... I don't even know if I'm technically an Amazon anymore."
   "Regardless of that, you're still a person."
   Diana appreciated the sentiment, but it didn't mean much.
   "It's more than just what race I belong to. I was supposed to BE someone. I had an identity; a purpose. I knew who I was and what I was meant for. Now I don't know who I am at all."
   "Who do you want to be?"
   "...I... I don't know." Diana smiled slightly as a small memory flashed in her mind. "When I was a little girl, I always wanted to be a hero; the Amazons' fabled champion. My mother was that champion in her day, when she led my sisters out of slavery. I think I always grew up trying to hold my head up high and act like that hero; to live up to my mother's title, so I might one day get that title."
   "You're already a princess; what higher title is there?"
   "It's hard to translate into English, but I think, most accurately, it would be 'Wonder Woman.'"
   "That sounds like a lot of importance for a young girl to try and keep on her shoulders."
   "...It was, but I thought I was doing it well, at least. And now, I just... gods, what am I talking about? That doesn't even matter anymore. I can't be their champion; I can't even go home."

   Clark energetically bounded down the stairs. "Morning!" he said cheerfully, kissing Martha on the cheek.
   Diana couldn't help but crack a smile. Something about the Kents' genuine positivity was infectious.
   Clark snatched half a piece of toast and stuffed it in his mouth, gestured toward Diana. "You ready for your firsht day of shcool?"
   Diana sighed and nodded. It was the morning of her first day of class at Smallville High, and she was mildly nervous.
   Clark swallowed his toast and glanced at his watch. "The bus is about to get here. We should go."
   Diana and Clark grabbed their backpacks and walked to the door, but Martha gently grabbed Diana's arm before she could leave.
   "I just want you to know," Martha said quietly, "no matter what, this is your home now."
   Diana was surprised. She'd spent the last month doing nothing but feeling the pain of what she'd lost; she hadn't even stopped to consider what she'd gained. As Martha's words sunk in, Diana felt herself slowly fill with a gentle warmth.
   Home.