Ethan sat on his bed cross-legged, staring at the ceiling fans in his room at the Kent farmhouse.
The knowledge of Sequence 8 had been burning in his head for the past three days, and it all narrowed down to one revelation.
"Hmm," he muttered, drumming a thoughtful pattern on his knee. "So, apparently, I need to exercise evil and help them ascend for this sequence."
It just sounded so wrong when spoken out loud. It wasn't some crusade of righteous judgment and punishment like one would expect from a Light Supplicant of the Sun pathway to declare. The Sun pathway's Light Supplicant didn't believe in eradication of evil - they believed in breaking it down and cleansing it, bringing it up from lower matter to higher matter.
Which raised the question of what, exactly, comprised evil in a setting like this.
In Lord of the Mysteries, the answer was relatively straightforward. Beyonders who lost control. Cults that worshipped Outer Gods. Criminal organizations that exploited the helpless. The moral landscape was complex, but the categories were clear.
It was much harder to discern in DC. A desperate father stealing bread to feed his sick child was no different from a metahuman who used their powers for selfish gain without harming people and neither was clearly evil in the way a corrupt wizard or vampire lord would be. There was nuance; shading; context. The shades of gray bled together into black and white depending on who you asked.
The Sun pathway didn't care about philosophy. It cared about action. Which meant Ethan had to go out there and do his homework.
Ethan grabbed his phone.
It rung twice before Clark answered.
"Hey. Everything okay?"
"I need your help with something."
Ethan hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He had spent two long years making sure that none of his beyonder powers manifested in a way that would give him away to the watchful eyes of Metropolis's resident detective. It hadn't been easy, but so far, so good. Even Batman hadn't found anything suspicious about the interdimensional drifter living on the Kent's property.
So why now? Why did it have to be Clark? That's because whether sooner or later Clark will learn about it and having his help is going to be the best
"It's about the accident?"
The line was silent for a moment before Clark spoke again, his tone darkening. "What about it?"
"The thing that happened to me when the truck crashed. I told you already that it changed me in ways I'm not entirely comfortable with," Ethan replied. "That I stopped being entirely normal after that."
"I remember. You said you would explain when you understood it better. I've been waiting for that explanation for the past two years."
"I know. And I'm not ready to explain everything yet. But I need to tell you at least some of it, because I need your help with what comes next."
There was another pause on the other end of the line. "Okay. I'm listening."I have powers now. Lesser powers than you , but still real ones. Powers that I can't ignore, really. They compel me to use them, to help people, specifically."
"Help people how?"
"That's the thing. This... this isn't something I can explain well. The way my powers are set up, I feel a need to actively seek people in trouble and help them out. It's an obligation, really. If I fail to do this, my powers won't function properly. And by function properly, I mean stagnate."
Clark was silent for a long moment, and Ethan could almost see him in his mind's eye, perched in his desk chair in the Daily Planet office, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "So, in other words, you want to do hero work."
"I want to help people. Whether that counts as hero work is entirely up to you."
"And why do you need my help?"
"Because I have no idea what I'm doing. I grew up on a farm. I have no real combat experience outside of the occasional bar fight in Metropolis after one of my concerts. You have actual experience with this kind of thing, and I need guidance."
"And once you get into the world of heroism, there's no getting out, right?" Clark sighed. "Okay. I'll set something up. You come to Mmy apartment. You should have the key. We'll talk more about this when I finish my work. I'll take you to the Fortress."
At Fortress of Solitude.
Not the original one or at least not the one he knew. It seems this fortress was made by Clark himself
"You know," Clark said as he examined the crystalline display cases, filled with various pieces of military equipment with Kryptonian writing etched onto them. "When you called me, I became aware of several peculiarities regarding your physiology."
"You could have said so sooner," Ethan remarked dryly.
"I was going to ask later. Your heart rate is significantly lower than average, your muscle mass has increased, and your height also increased although not much to be noticable"
Ethan said nothing in response. He was unsurprised - if there was one thing he had learned about Kryptonian biology, it was that their senses were nothing to scoff at. He had spent two years hiding his beyonder abilities, and now his body was practically screaming about it to anyone with half an education in biology.
"How long has it been like this?" Clark asked.
"Since the crash. As mentioned, I wasn't fond of the idea of telling anyone about it before I understood it myself."
Clark's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything. He was clearly unhappy with the deception, but at the same time, he clearly understood the necessity of it. If he hadn't been able to hide his own powers, humanity would have been much worse off with Lex Luthor and his merry band of mercenaries breathing down Superman's neck every week.
"You'll tell me when you're ready," Clark finally said. "For now, let's try something else."
He turned around, pulling out a long coat from one of the display cases. It was a dark color, almost black, made of a fabric that swallowed the light rather than reflecting it. Opening it up, Ethan could see that it covered everything from the neck down, with reinforced parts around the arms and legs, and a hood and mask that would provide excellent protection for the parts it couldn't cover.
"Kryptonian weave," Clark said as he tossed it to Ethan. "It should protect you from most conventional attacks which includes Hot weapons but that doesn't mean you should take on bullets straight on."
"Thank you," Ethan said.
"Don't thank me yet. If you're going to be doing this, we're going to start slow and build up. Small tasks to test you, make sure you know what you're doing before moving on to bigger things."
"Understood. And if you'll allow me to be the judge of that as well?"
"Of course." Clark paused, then added, after a moment of hesitation, "Just tell me when you're ready."
He turned around, looking out at the horizon. "Now. Tell me about this thing you feel compelled to do. Help people."
---The first night out was not what Ethan expected.
Clark had taken him to the eastern part of Metropolis, to a part of the city that most guide books would not mention. A part of the city where the pavement cracked and crumbled into broken concrete, where the restaurants were dark and their signs hung from the buildings like dead things, where police cars took ten minutes to show up when the phone rang.
They were in a small building on the upper floor, looking down at a shop that sold electronics. Small electronics. It was called Park's Audio & Video, and according to Clark, it had been receiving threatening calls from would-be robbers for the past week.
"Three men," Clark said quietly. "Inside now. Crowbar on the back wall. Semi-professional."
"You could just move in take any weapons from their hands after which I can do the rest" Ethan muttered. He could see the three men through the small space between the boards, hear the soft clatter of metal hitting wood as they emptied the cash register.
"You should do that. It'll give you experience," Clark replied. "I'll be here to observe and intervene if things go south. You ready?"
Ethan took a steadying breath.
He slid down the wall, feet finding purchase on the concrete as he landed silently. He dropped down the alley, muscles tense but not uncomfortable, his body adapting to the strange physiology of a Level 9 Beyonder with an ease that had not been there before the accident.
He reached the back of the store, hand brushing against the wood of the doorframe as he peered inside. The three men stood in the middle of the store, speaking in hushed voices as they lifted the duffel bags over their shoulders. One of them, one of the younger ones, spotted him first.
The other two men followed his gaze and turned to look at him as well. All three had their faces covered, but Ethan could see their eyes, two pairs brown, one pair blue, all shining with the light of malice and desperation.
Two of them turned and ran. One for the front door, one for the back. Ethan caught the first by the collar, turning him around and throwing him into a shelf with a force that sent the man stumbling back. He barely had time to stop himself from hitting the man again before the second robber turned the corner.
The second robber's move was slower, hesitant, as if he were surprised to find a masked vigilante standing in his path. Ethan grabbed him by the collar and tossed him to the ground, using some strange strength that he didn't remember having learned.
The third robber stood his ground and said
"Guess I am next"
Clark's voice crackled in Ethan's ear as he tied the first robber's wrists together with a set of zip ties. "Nice work. Clean and efficient. The police should be here in about twelve minutes."
Ethan paused, looking down at the two bound men before turning to face the third. They stared each other down for a moment, the silence stretching between them before Ethan asked,
"Why did you come here?"
The man blinked. "What?"
"Why are you here? Why this store? Why tonight?"
"Does it matter?" the robber asked. "You're already here. Just hand me to the cops. I'm sure they'll take care of the rest."
"It matters to me," Ethan said.
Just as Ethan said this an unmistakable aura of warmth started to radiate from him
The robber deflated, some of the fight draining out of him. "I lost my job three months ago," he said. "McKinnon Manufacturing automated the production line. They just handed us all a paycheck and a cardboard box, and then the machines took over. I've been looking ever since, but there's just nothing out there. No jobs. No work. No hope that I can put food on the table for my kids."
He set the duffel bag down on the ground, his hands shaking. "And then my daughter got sick."
"My daughter's six years old," the man said, his voice cracking painfully. "She's been running fevers for the last two weeks, and the doctor says she needs some kind of medication. The insurance doesn't cover it, and my wife's parents sent what they could, but it's barely enough. The fever just keeps coming, and I'm so close to just getting her the prescription, and then I heard about the store being robbed, and I knew I could get the money somehow, but I just couldn't do it."
He turned back to Ethan, his hands pressed tightly against his eyes. "I never meant to hurt anyone. I just wanted a chance to pay for my daughters medicine. When I heard they needed someone to break the lock of this store without triggering the alarm. I joined. I was going to sell the stuff and then come back and turn myself in after sending my wife and my kids back to her parents house."
The store was silent, save for the whimpering of the other two robbers, who had been bound to the back of the display cabinet.
Ethan stood quietly, taking in the words the man had said. He knew full well what he was supposed to do with this information, what the Light Supplicant's doctrine dictated when it came to the treatment of criminals, but he wasn't sure what to do with it in this particular scenario.
The man wasn't evil. Not truly. Evil was a concept, and like all concepts, it had many levels, many degrees of shading and depth. This wasn't the most monstrous example he had ever seen - not compared to the kinds of murderers and rapists and serial killers who haunted the dreams of the city. This was desperation dressed in the garb of circumstance, and desperation, as he knew all too well, was often just another word for hope.
The hope wasn't gone yet. It never truly was. It just got buried under layers and layers of suffering and hardship, waiting for the right opportunity to claw its way out again.
"Take me to her," Ethan said quietly.
The man looked up, his face a mixture of confusion and fear. "What?"
"Your daughter. Take me to her. I can help."How? Are you a doctor?"No. But I can help. Trust me."
The words resonated with the power of the sun pathway, filling the man with a feeling of warmth and reassurance, as if there was a fire burning in Ethan's chest that radiated outwards in waves. The robber looked up at his masked face, searching it for something, anything, to indicate that he wasn't lying.
"Okay," he eventually said. "Okay."
---The apartment was on the fourth floor of a crumbling walk-up that reeked of old grease and mildew. The hallway smelled like something had recently been cooked, but it was difficult to tell what with the general muskiness of the building. The fourth floor was a strange place in Metropolis, a place few would have chosen to live if they had known the circumstances.
The man knocked on the door to apartment 4C. No one answered for a moment before a woman's voice called out from inside.
"David? What's going on? Who is this?"
"Sarah, it's okay. He's- I can't explain right now, but he can help Lily."
"Help her how? David, did you actually go through with it?"
"Please," David's voice broke. "please just let him see her."
Sarah stepped outside, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of the man in the strange clothes. "David, tell me what's going on."
"Can you just let him see her?" David asked. "Please."
Sarah hesitated, eyes locked onto Ethan's. Whatever she saw in his mask, or maybe whatever she felt from the strange energy that surrounded him, was enough to convince her. "Alright, I guess. But if you hurt her, I swear I will kill you. I don't care what you are." [A/N: It's close to mind control when it resonaates with the pathway]
"I believe you," Ethan said. He stepped inside the apartment, his boots making soft noises against the wooden floor. The apartment was small, but it was tidy, furnished with second-hand but well-kept furniture. Drawings hung from the refrigerator, and the kitchen smelled of soup.
A woman in her late thirties stood in the bedroom doorway, her face paling as she saw her daughter.
"Lily?" she whispered.
Her six-year-old daughter was deathly pale, her breathing shallow and uneven as she writhed on the bed.
Ethan dropped to his knees beside the bed. He could feel the sickness in her
The Sun pathway stirred within him, filling his veins with light.
Purification.
He hadn't used the ability on anyone else before. He had toyed around with it in the privacy of his own mind, testing just how far Sequence 8 could go, but that had always been on himself. It could restore his body to its maximum peak so It should be able to do the same for the others.
The theory was sound, the Sun pathway's essence was about cleansing darkness, ridding it, bringing whatever had been tainted back to its former glory but theory and practice often did notatch
He placed a hand on her forehead; she was burning up. Her skin was far too hot for a six-year-old.
He closed his eyes.
Light gathered at his fingertips, though not light that could be seen. The purification was slow, possibly because of the low sequence of the pathways. It wasn't instantly removing the sickness
Lily sighed as she slept, her face smoothing out. Her fists unclenched.
Behind him, Sarah emitted a sound that was possibly a prayer.
It took a few minutes, and when Ethan finally took his hands away, he found that he was quite drained, Beyonder-wise. It was like running a mile after three months of couch-surfing. His touch had cooled her forehead; her breathing was deep and regular, her fever gone, her face no longer red, but healthy-looking as she slept peacefully.
Something else, too, was different
Inside him, the potion digestion had moved even if it was very very little. But it didn't move when I stopped the robbery
Exercise Evil and Help them Ascend.
The evil wasn't David, the evil was the system that crushed him, the layoffs, the lack of welfare, and the sheer poverty that drove poor people to steal, to do what David had done as he tried to feed himself and his daughter. Ascending wasn't punishing the poor or killing them, but redeeming them. Helping them to lead better lives, to break the cycle, to become more than they were.
Healing David's daughter had done all that.
It had removed the reason for him robbing the store, for stealing to feed his family; it had taken the cause and removed it.
Looks like I'm going to be doing this for a while
he thought, though not as glumly as he might have been ten minutes ago.
He turned to face David and Sarah. David was crying uncontrollably; Sarah had her hands over her mouth, tears of relief flowing down her cheeks as she looked at their sleeping daughter.
"She'll be fine." Ethan said softly, "The infection's gone. She'll probably be a little weak for a day or two, but she's going to be okay."
"How?" Sarah asked, "How did you do that?"
"Does it matter?"
She looked at him for a moment, then nodded
"Thank you." She managed, her voice raw and tearful. "Thank you. Oh God, thank you."
David was sitting on the floor in the only chair in the apartment with his hands over his face, sobbing.
Ethan waited until he'd calmed down a little before he knelt next to him and spoke.
"The robbery stops here. Those two guys are still in that shop tied up. The police will come, and they'll find them. Your part in it doesn't have to be known; I left no evidence connecting you to the robbery." He glanced at his hands. "I didn't see any reason to make you suffer for it."
David looked up at him, his face red, bewildered. "You're... letting me go?"
"I'm giving you a second chance. Take it, and do better next time."
He stood and walked to the door, pausing briefly when Sarah spoke again.
"Wait, at least tell us your name. Who are you?"
He stopped and turned around. "Nobody important. Just someone who was in the right place at the right time." Then he disappeared downstairs, leaving the couple with their sleeping daughter, a chance at a better life, a new beginning for them all.
Clark was waiting for him on the roof of the neighboring building. His expression said it all. Superman's super hearing had picked up the entire conversation, and he was most likely aware of precisely what Ethan had done to the girl, given the look on his face.
He said nothing about the strange powers, about the glowing hands. Nothing at all, except for his expression, which had an almost proud look to it.
"That was well done."
"I need to do more of this," Ethan replied, "A lot more of this. This... healing, helping them, instead of stopping them in the middle and letting them rot. That's what I need to be doing."
"I know a few areas where people could use your help," Clark remarked, "Mostly in Metropolis."
"In Metropolis?"
"If you want. You could set up there, have a base of operations of sorts. Metropolis is a large city with plenty of people who need your help." He hesitated, considering something. "If you need any help, or if something goes wrong, you can always just scream for me."
Ethan glanced around. Metropolis was a fine city, a proper place for a superhero to base himself.
Yeah, he thought, that works perfectly. If I get into any real trouble, I can always just scream for help, which, ironically, is what I was doing half the time before. He turned to Clark and grinned.
"Metropolis works. Sounds perfect, actually."
Clark smiled. "Then let's get going."
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Question: Did I go too philosophical?
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