JUNE 2004 - #23

Beware the Toyman! Revelations: Part II by Chip Caroon and Gary Wilbur

She also noticed Clark, fully dressed, including an apron, standing at the stove, fixing breakfast.

"Good morning, Jean!" he said.

Jean knew that something was wrong. "Clark, it should be a sin to be that cheery this early."

"Oh, come on! It's a beautiful morning!"

"Uh-huh," Jean said. She crossed her arms. "Couldn't sleep again, huh?"

Clark's face dimmed. "Something like that."

Jean walked over, and came up behind Clark. She grabbed his massive shoulders and leaned over to kiss his cheek. Clark turned his head and their lips touched for an instant.

"I should start my mornings like this more often," he said as he flipped the last of the pancakes onto the plate.

"Clark," Jean said, backing off and sitting down at the table. "You do."

Clark smiled as he picked up both plates and joined Jean at the table.

"It's nice to be able to have at least some semblance of a normal life," he said.

He was walking past the front door of the mansion when the bell rang.

"I got it!" he shouted, in case anyone was nearby.

Opening the door, he saw a short bald man with thick glasses. Bobby also noticed the large bag in his hand.

"Good morning, sir," the man said. "My name is Winslow Schott, and I am collecting toys for charity."

"Uh, yeah," Bobby said, not sure what to think. Something about this short man did not sit right with him. "I'm sorry, but we have no toys to give. I wish we did, really."

"That's quite all right. Thank you, anyway, and have a pleasant day," Schott said as he turned and walked away.

As Bobby closed the door, Warren Worthington III walked by.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"Some guy collecting toys for charity."

"That's nice," Warren replied. "But we don't have any."

"I know," Bobby said. "Which is what I told him."

Warren could see the concern in Bobby's face.

"But . . . ?"

"There was something strange about him. I didn't quite trust him. In fact, I doubt I would have even given him anything if I did have something to give."

"Oh, give me a break!"

"No, really. Listen, it might have just been the bald head or thick glasses, or even his height - or lack thereof - but there was something about that guy that tells me we should probably follow him, to see what he's up to!"

"He's just a nice man collecting toys for charity."

"Warren, usually, people do that around Christmas time. Christmas was only a couple of months ago."

"Maybe he was just being extra nice."

Bobby thought for a minute. "We haven't seen any action since that trip to Weapon X.* And, I've never known you to pass up an opportunity to drive your new sports car."

*(X-Men #16-21)

Warren's eyes lit up at the mention of his new sports car. "All right," he said, "we'll go. And maybe afterwards, we can get breakfast."

"Actually, I was hoping for some pancakes . . . "

Warren shook his head. "Clark and Jean are in the kitchen."

"So, Denny's it is! Or are you in the mood for some nice fast food breakfast?"

"We'll find out after we figure out what this guy is up to."

Jean and Clark walked in to find Hank resting his head on the table. Jean threw a package down in front of him, waking him.

"Wh..huh?" he said, sitting up, and blinking several times.

"Hank, you've been down here almost nonstop since we got that rock," Jean said.

"That's not true!" Hank replied. "I left for a week to go to the resort."

"You know what I mean," Jean said. "This package just came."

Hank picked it up. It was wrapped the same as the last one, with similar markings.

Clark started walking backward. "I'll stand back here, if you don't mind," he said.

Hank opened the package and pulled out the contents. It was a rock very similar to the previous one, except for its color. This one was red.

"Feel anything, Clark?" Jean asked.

"No," Clark said, surprised. He started walking closer. "I feel fine."

"Fascinating," Hank whispered.

"Still," Clark continued, "I won't take any chances. I'll leave you to study it, Hank. You coming, Jean?"

"In a minute." Jean leaned over to get a better look at the rock.

Hank placed the rock in a special device to test for radioactivity.

"Learned anything new?" Jean asked.

"Well, not really. I've formed some new theories, based on what Clark told us the other day about himself. That helped quite a bit, by the way. Instead of limited myself to Earth, I now have the whole universe to study."

"I don't know whether to apologize or be happy."

"I don't either. I've been doing some studying into space, but I must admit that outer space is not my main focus of study."

"I understand."

The machine holding the rock beeped. Hank read the screen.

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "There is very little radiation being emitted from this rock."

"What does that mean?" Jean asked, as Hank took the rock out of the machine and laid it on the table.

"It's basically harmless. There's not enough radiation coming out to harm anyone."

"Not even Clark?"

"Not even Clark."

"He'll be glad to hear that."

"You might want to tell him."

Jean leaned down and gave Hank a quick hug. "You're a good friend. But you still need to get out more."

Hank smiled. "I'll keep that in mind . . . "

"Bobby, we've been following this guy for over half an hour. He's just been collecting toys, and people are giving them to him."

"I know," Bobby said.

"I think he's legit," Warren said. "You're just being paranoid. I think you just wanted to get out of the mansion and do something 'fun and exciting.'" He looked over at Bobby, who wasn't responding. Instead he was looking out the window. "Bobby?"

"Is that a teddy bear sticking it's head out the window?" Bobby asked.

Warren looked. "It looks like it from here . . . "

The bear retreated back into the van.

Bobby rubbed his eyes.

"Perhaps he has someone with him," Warren commented. "A kid, maybe?"

"I don't think so," Bobby replied, pointing. The bear was holding something. "What is that?"

Warren squinted to see what it was, and then realized what it was.

"It's a grenade!" he shouted as the bear pulled the pin and tossed the explosive towards the sports car. Warren swirved to try to miss it.

The explosion was very loud.

"Hank?"

Hank turned to see Clark. "Ah, Clark. Just the person I wanted to see."

"What are you doing?"

"Just looking over some star charts," Hank replied. "Trying to find a lead on Krypton."

"Found anything?"

"Nothing," Hank replied. "But I have a giant lead that's been right in front of me, and I never knew it."

"The ship."

"Yup. That's bound to have answers. Care to take me out there?"

"Sure, let's go. You need to get out anyway."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

Clark walked over and pressed a button, opening the hatch. Hank peered down into the main portion of the ship, the place Clark lay as he rocketed to Earth.

"And the technology!"

"Krypton, from what I can gather, was pretty advanced," Clark said.

"I can see very little welding or signs of assembly. It's as if this is one piece."

"It might be."

As Hank circled the ship, Clark noticed a slight noise just outside the shed. He tapped Hank on the shoulder and put a finger to his lips.

"Hear that?" he whispered.

Hank looked at him confused. Obviously, the noise was still low enough that only Clark with his enhanced hearing could pick it up.

Clark crept closer to the door and used his x-ray vision to see what was on the other side.

What the hell? he thought, seeing a strange creature, looking like nothing he had seen on Earth. It was yellow . . . it was a telepathic Kandorian hound, Clark remembered.

In less than a second, the creature crashed through the door, and lunged straight for Clark's throat!

Clark fell to the ground, with the hound on top of him. He used all of his strength to keep the hound from enjoying a lovely meal of Kryptonian flesh.

Finally, he used a burst of heat vision to blind the hound. The hound reared its head back.

Hank grabbed a shovel leaning against the wall next to him, and swung at the hound, hitting it square on the head. It leapt up and lunged for Hank, but Clark used superspeed, grabbed the hound in midair, and slammed it to the ground, knocking it unconscious.

"What is that thing?" Hank asked.

"It's a Kandorian hound. Known for being telepathic."

"Kandorian?"

"Kandor was a city on Krypton."

"Hmm," Hank said.

Clark squinted at Hank. "Maybe it's just because I nearly got killed here, or the poor lighting, but you're hair looks . . . bluish."

Hank ran his hand through it. It felt slightly coarser than before, but just barely. "I dunno. Maybe it's just you. Let's get this hound to the lab."

"It should have a few answers at least . . . "

"You do that," Clark said. "I'm going to go to Kansas, see if I can get any clues from there."

“I appreciate your bringing me out here, Professor.” Clark rounded the top of the knoll and gazed down at what he knew was the scene of his arrival on this planet. It was amazing.

“Look at the size of that trench!” he exclaimed.

“Well, as near as we can figure, it was an intergalactic flight that produced this landing. It came in with tremendous force.”

“It’s a wonder any of it survived.”

“We attribute that to the remarkable material the ship was made from. That and the obviously superior otherworldly technology. It was a tragedy to the scientific world when it was stolen. We’d hardly learned anything from it. We don’t even know if it carried any life forms.”

“Just amazing.”

“What is your interest in it, Mr. Kent?”

“My parents, before they died, lived in this area of the country. They, uh, told me about the crash they saw late one night driving back from town. I’ve always been curious to see if there was any substance to the old family legend.”

“Well, I can honestly tell you that what we found here certainly appeared alien to us. Most scientists didn’t believe our initial reports. We were dismissed as UFO nuts. And then, after the first news stories broke, it disappeared. Tragic.”

“Yes.”

Clark knew who had taken it. Or at least, who had ended up with possession of the spacecraft. Professor Charles Xavier, the late founder and mentor to the X-Men. But how did the professor know about the ship? How did he get it from Smallville to Westchester? Clark put those questions aside, as they had little bearing on his current crusade.

“Thanks, Professor Dawson. Did your team figure out anything about how it got here? Anything like its angle and speed for instance?”

Dawson shook his head. “Nothing definitive. We made some inferences from the depth and length of the trench, but we really had no other data.”

“I see. Well, I thank you again for taking the time to bring me out here and show me this.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Kent.”