words: 2800 cca
tags: alien invasion, past non-explicit major character death, minor (kinda) Jon Kent/Damian Wayne, violence, hurt/comfort (???) wanted to say this is light angst, but it’s actually quite heavy, ghosts (??) yeah, honestly most of the people are dead, hopeful ending (????)
And wasn’t that something, for Superman, one of the leaders of the Justice League, to feel weak?
It just…. It was just so hard these days. To wake up, save the world with a blinding smile that felt more and more fake with every passing day; go to work, to Daily Planet, in the same position his father once had, save the world once more and go to sleep. Rinse and repeat.
Cycle that was the same, every single day.
Until it was broken. By none other but the Crimson Terminator.
Well, that’s at least what the Earth called it.
For Jon, it was nothing more than a monster. A cruel, bloodthirsty monster. A beast that took more from Jon than anyone ever did. That took away his whole family, half of the Justice League and a big portion of the human population while it was at it, not three decades ago. A monster that is Jon's father, his brother, his mother, his lover… his Dami. The Bat colony –if it could even be called that nowadays– was probably the one that took the hardest hit. All the original heroes, the first heroes and vigilantes ever, gone.
The first to go was Bruce, as Batman, standing in the first line of defence. His dad… Superman went on a rampage after that, and got himself killed as well. The next to go was Dick, who, while unwilling, took the mantle after Bruce. He went off with a boom, Wally, his husband, went with him. Tim, Babs and Steph died not long after. Kon… Kon followed his father’s footsteps. Went to avenge his love, and never came back. Ironically enough, Jason, who took the mantle after Dcik, was the one who stayed the longest, almost making it to the end of the war. Almost. He died protecting a little girl. Damian… Damian died in Jon’s arms, pleading, begging him not to end up the same way Clark and Kon did.
Cass and Duke, and Alfred were the only ones who survived that godsforsaken year. A year. That was all it took. All of the people Jon ever cared about, ever loved, gone like that, within a single godsdamn year.
There were new Bats now, of course, new birds, new heroes. None of the original JL members willing or capable to fight anymore. Barry, grieving Hal, his husband, and Wally, son to him in everything but blood, could never use his powers again. J’onn J’onzz was amongst those who died in the attack. Diana, severely wounded and no longer able to fight, retrieved back to Themyscira, no-one has seen her since. Roy took over from his father, reluctantly training Lian as his sidekick. Cassie took over Diana’s place, Cass took over her father, and so on. The world still had the same titles, the same heroes, but they weren’t the same people. They would never be. And the world knew that.
The Hall of Justice was renamed the Hall of the Fallen. Filled with memorial cases for all the members who died. The original Seven, had the biggest statues, right by the entrance. Jon visited that place only a few times in all those years, preferring to mourn in the personal graves all families made for their respective heroes.
But the world moved on. They established peace, repaired what they could, rebuilt what they couldn’t. The world got used to their new protectors, their new heroes.
Thirty years after his first appearance, thirsty years after he absolutely wrecked Jon’s life, the Crimson Terminator returned.
And he was even stronger than before.
They fought. Of course they did. It all seemed hopeless from the start, but if the heroes didn’t fight, who would?
Even some heroes, who were long since retired –like Roy– joined the fight. Jon, being Kryptonian, never aged as fast. In truth, he still felt like 18, the age that he lost it all.
The Justice League of The Milky Way Galaxy was even bigger than ever before. Twenty-eight years was a long time to recruit and train new heroes, and Jon tried not to think about the fact that some of the new heroes were born after the first attack. That some –many– of them never experience the devastation that It brought.
But the Senior members did, and they refused to let it happen again.
And, as the battle went on, cities, and heroes, started falling once again. Sometimes, Jon couldn’t help but curse his powers, the way he was born, his need to save others. If he was born as a regular human, if he never got those powers, what would his life look like? Would he ever have to deal with this? This pain, this loss? He could lead a simple, peaceful life on the farm, never having to worry about the fate of the world resting on his shoulders.
But that way, he would also never meet the people he did. His dad would never know Bruce, he would never be introduced to Damian. But he would also never know the pain of losing him. And Jon, for the briefest moment, not for the first time, wished he never met him.
And everytime those thoughts came, he chased them away just as fast. Because how could he even think that? How could he ever wish he'd have never met Damian, or and his friends?
But, he thought briefly, it’s not like it’s gonna matter much longer. I’m going to see them soon enough.
Jon was fighting alone. They were on the outskirts of Gotham, a city that was already hanging by a thread, yet refused to give up. Gothemites were resilient, as much as their heroes, and Jon had a feeling that that rubbed off of him.
Everything –buildings, roads, the flora– within a five mile radius was destroyed, reduced to rubble and dust. It looked like a warzone. It was a warzone.
Every other hero was either dead, unconscious, or in no state to fight.
That was about the only things running through Jon’s mind, as he powered yet another blow straight to the Crimson Terminator’s jay. As much as it had a jaw. The monster barely flinched. Jon wasn’t surprised.
Every bone in his body was either broken, cracked, or bruised. He was bleeding from places he didn’t even know he could bleed from. He was weak.
He remembered being grabbed by his leg, and being thrown into the ground. The impact created a small crater.
Then, his vision darkened, his consciousness slipping away.
Finally, he thought, I can finally rest.
He didn’t know if he should be surprised or not, that the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes, was a white.
Not a white room full of medical supplies, or a white cell, no, just white.
An infinite void that lacked color.
He slowly sat up– as much as one could in place (was it even a place?) like this. Nothing hurt, which was the second indicator of what happened. (If the while infinite void wouldn’t be enough).
Slowly standing up, Jon looked around. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, not even on atomic level, around him. Jon wondered if this is what being dead was like.
“Jon.” a voice called from behind him.
Jon turned around so fast he would give himself a whiplash if it was even possible for him. He knew that voice. He knew that voice and he missed it, he missed it so much–
“D-dad?” he cracked out, suddenly feeling weak in his knees.
There, in front of him, stood the man Jon would never even hope to ever see again, clad in his signatured blue-red-gold suit. Similar to the one Jon was wearing tight now, albeit less torn and dirty.
He smiled. That odd, sad smile of his, that Jon hasn’t seen for so long.
Jon has never moved so fast before, as he all but flong himself at the man, burring his face in his shoulder. It was so weird, he was almost as tall as Clark was. He felt like crying. Actually, he may already be crying.
“Dad! Wha– am I– am I dead?”
Clarks smile softened once again, not that Jon could really see that.
“What– what do you mean?” Jon asked, pulling himself slightly away from his father's embrace so he could look him in the eye.
“You are not dead yet. All you have to do is wake up.”
“This– this is a dream?” Jon asked, pulling away ever more.
“No, not a dream, but something more. But I am sorry Jon, we don’t have much time, and I’m not the only one who wanted to say hello.”
“What does that mean?” Jon was frustrated, and tired, and scared.
“You will know. I love you, son. I just– I’m sorry, this fell on your shoulders. I’m sorry that I was reckless, and left you to be the one who has to face Him alone. But you can do it. I know you can.”
“I’m not as strong as you were,” Jon choked out, his eyes locked on his shaking hands.
“No,” there was an unreadable tone to Clark’s voice, “You’re stronger.”
And when Jon looked up again, he was gone. Jon let his gaze fall once again, clutching his hands tight into fists. This wasn’t fair, he was crying again, he–
“Hey Chipmunk.” The new voice made Jon’s head snap back again. There, in the same spot his dad stood not a moment ago, was a different figure. In build and shape similar, but this one had a leather jacket, piercings, but the crest of the House of El was still visible on his chest.
Kon didn’t even wait for Jon’s reply before he hugged him tight, squeezing him even tighter.
“Damn, how is it that you are already taller than me? That’s not fair.” Kon huffed into Jon’s hair. Jon kept the remark that he now had over two decades on Kon. That thought itself only made him cry harder.
“Kon.” He clutched the leather jacket ightinly, probably ripping it a bit. He didn’t care. He wanted to say so much more, but he didn’t have the words.
“Listen, I have even less time, as there is someone who probably deserves it more. I love you, you know that right? Just– don’t let my sacrifice be in vain, m’kay?” there was a playful tone to his voice. Jon wanted to answer, but before he could get his mouth to work, he was already falling over, clutching onto nothing. Jon knelt there, tears freely streaming down his face. He hasn’t cried this hard since the first anniversary of the first war. His breathing was rapid, as much as he didn’t even need to breathe. He was confused, he didn’t like this, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do.
No, no, no, no. Anyone but–
Jon stopped breathing. He was freezed in his spot, too afraid to look up. Too afraid of who he might find there, too afraid that he wouldn't.
But, as always, his heart won over his brain, and he slowly, agonizingly so, looked up.
“Dami?” His words were barely above a whisper, yet it carried far.
In front of him, stood the love of his life. The one man Jon was willing to destroy the world from. The man Jon almost did destroy the world for.
Damian smiled, his eyes crinkled at the corners, yet there was a sad undertone for it. “My soul, don’t you remember what I’ve told you? Nobody, absolutely nobody, can take you down. Don’t let them. Remember who you are.”
“It’s–” His words got stuck in his throat. He hung his head low. “It’s just so hard. You’re not here, my dad isn’t here, Conner’s not here, Dick’s not here, no-one is.”
Jon heard as Damina cept closer, until he could see the tips of his boots. Then, a cold hand was placed on his cheek, tilting his head slightly upward, looking straight into Daminan’s eyes, who was crouching in front of him. There were unshed tears in his eyes, expression of pain, yet with hidden hopefulness.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Habibi.”
“What?” Jon barely crooked out.
“Just because you don’t see us, doesn’t mean that we’re not there. We are. And we will always be. I’m waiting for you, Jon, and when you’ll take your last breath, I will be waiting. But that day is not today. The world still needs you, go save it. I love you, Hayati.”
Jon’s eyes flew open. He was lying in the rubble the impact created, buried in the ruins of the world he swore to protect. Damian’s words still ringing in his mind.
This world still needs you, go save it.
Jon was never in the habit of denying Damina’s wishes.
The rubble and ground crumbled under his hand, as he pushed himself up.
His wounds, one that could be fatal to even a Kryptnonian, started to mend themself together, like they were never there. Newfound power ran through his veins.
He could see the Crimson Terminator where he was gloating. He could see as the monster did a double take when he saw him.
“What– you’re supposed to be dead! How are you still alive?!” He sounded outrageous. Jon didn’t care, There was the undeniable rage brewing deep in his soul. Rage, he didn’t get to unleash the last time.
Jon floated fighter, the rising Sun in his back. Basking Jon and the earth in a new, hopeful light. His silhouette dark against the sunrise light, yet his eyes shone with bright, blood red.
“I am Jon-El. Son of Kal-El; the first Superman and last survivor of Krypton. I am my father’s son, I am the Earth's protector, and you’re not gonna take it away from me!” Jon’s voice echoed over the land, heard even miles away. This was the voice of the man who lost everything, but was still willing to fight.
Fast, faster that should be even possible, Jon attacked, delivering a punch right between the monster eyes. The last time in did nothing, but now, now the monster faltered, and Jon didn’t give him time to recover. He delivered another to his jaw, and another to one of his stomach, and another, and another . He never gave him chance to fight back. Never gave him the chance for figure out what was happening.
He delivered blow after blow, punch after punch, kick after kick.
He didn’t know how long he did so. It could've been minutes, it could’ve been hours, it could’ve been days.
He didn’t stop, until his knuckles were broken and bruised all over again, until he could no longer feel his legs.
He didn’t stop, until all that was left of the monster was red dust, flying away in the wind.
Only then did Jon fall back.
When he hit the ground again, he knew he would get back up again. He couldn’t help but think:
He let a smile appear on his face at the thought of his soulmate. For the first time in years, it wasn’t obscured by pain.
I did it. And I will see you again. Just not today.
The Earth will recover, new heroes will take the place of the fallen. As they always did, and always will.
And with that, the world faded into darkness once again.
Yeah… the prompt was invasion but then it kinda… just, ran away from me (and I let it). Also, I’m sorry I didn't include Lois in this, but I have absolutely no idea how to write her.
