Sentinel - 1

NOTE:
I was having a hard time concentrating on my established stories. Started writing this and thought it was worth sharing.

Summary:
Quasi-SI into Invincible as Clark Kent. 3rd Person POV.

CYOA: https://wormlewdmod.neocities.org/supers/

1.

[Congratulations! You Died!]
[Survey Complete…]
[Destination Selected…]

He stared at the text that floated in the air in front of him. He could see through it, but that didn't show much. Currently, he was standing in a white expanse of seemingly nothingness. Looking down he could see that there wasn't any actual ground. He could feel it under his feet, but it wasn't there.

He knew he should be freaking out. It would be perfectly natural to have a panic attack after finding out he was dead and now was standing in an endless white void. Yet, his breathing was steady, his mind was clear, and there wasn't an ounce of panic. Was he still breathing? He placed a hand on his chest. Yes, breathing, but he could feel any air.

Yeah, he should definitely be freaking out. He reread the text, confused at the mention of a completed survey and a destination. If he thought about it, he could vaguely remember answering some questions. The details were a mess. They slipped further the more he tried to remember. Fireworks exploded in the 'sky' above him. He didn't even flinch at the sudden noise. Something was muting his emotions.

A wide stage took shape around him, a crowd of humanoid shadows formed an audience, and a shiny shape of multi-colored sparkle appeared to his left.

"Loyal viewers! We have a special treat for you!" The sparkles said in a voice that sounded like every other game-show host ever. "Season Two of the Multi-Dimensional Adventures! This time the focus is…"

The crowd cheered.

"Superheroes!"

The host went on to explain what superheroes were as well as the variety of settings that Earth had come up with. Apparently, his home planet's fictional media had some big fans.

"Now, for the moment you have been waiting for," the host said causing him to start paying attention once more. "The world selected is…"

A screen appeared behind him with a familiar logo.

INVINCIBLE

"The contestant has already made their choices," the host said.

Something popped up on the screen, but it was all blurred out.

"Don't worry, kid," the host chuckled. "Everything is just like you set it up."

What the hell did that mean? The humanoid shaped sparkle must have seen the confusion on his face.

"You chose not to remember," the host said. "Have fun, kid."

~

The host, announcer, shiny thing had said the setting was Invincible. Waking up falling from the sky like a fucking meteor was quite the shock. Even then, he could feel something about his body was different. For one, he wasn't in constant pain. The fact that he had just passed through some clouds and only felt a little damp instead of freezing was another bit of strangeness. Thankfully, he was dressed, though it was a tight body-suit rather than normal clothes. Anyone would recognize the classic Superman suit, red and blue complete with a cape.

Was this a costume or was he actually Superman? There was an easy way to find out. He stretched out flat and reached out in the one-hand forward pose. His descent wasn't slowed in the least. Well, fuck. Maybe he was still in the 'leaps tall buildings in a single bound' phase.

Further introspection ended as he crashed into the ground. A big cloud of dirt and dust kicked up into the air. His entire body was sore, but he was alive. He crawled out of a small crater and dusted his body off.

If this truly was Invincible, then he needed to move fast before Cecil, or his people showed up to check out the new arrival. He scanned the area, as a Kryptonian he could see much more than he could in his previous life. The flat landscape helped as well. A sign for a town caught his attention.

Welcome to Smallville

"You have got to be kidding him," he muttered.

His voice didn't sound right. It was too young. Damn, he needed a mirror. Whatever time he had was already running out. The sun was setting, and the streets were already starting to empty. Hopefully, that would help cover his approach. The world around him blurred as he broke into a sprint. He passed one of those 'how fast are you going' signs. A quick glance told him that he was moving at about 90 MPH. Maybe faster than speeding bullets. Basically, he was on the level of Classic Superman. He wasn't going to be punching asteroids anytime soon, but he could 1v1 a gorilla with ease.

He made it to Smallville in less than a minute. It took a moment to slow down enough to avoid crashing through some poor bystander. Smallville was bigger than he expected. The town lacked a big-box store, but it had a Thrift Shop. A quick yank and the back door opened. Stealing from a thrift shop wasn't something to be proud of, but he lacked other options. There didn't appear to be an alarm.

A patrol around the ship helped him spot where the clothing was, as well as the changing rooms. Finally, he was able to see what he looked like. He was young, a teenager. At the very most he was twenty, but that was stretching it. Black hair, blue eyes, handsome, a good six-foot tall, and built like an athlete. A slouch and baggy clothes would make people think his bulk could be written off as chub. Add a little shyness along with some glasses and no one would look twice at him.

Thrift Shops were awesome. He walked away with a messenger bag with a couple of replacement outfits inside, as well as his cape. The bodysuit fit easily under the clothes while the cape was too bulky. It was tempting to leave it off. A cape was a liability. Getting caught in a plane engine, or a spinning door wasn't an issue, but it would be something for an enemy to grab during a fight. He walked out of the back door wearing an oversized hoody, blue jeans, sneakers, and black, thick-rimmed glasses.

There was a trio of newspaper machines along the street. He didn't feel like further vandalizing the town, so he just took a peek at the paper inside. The date was June 3rd, 2003. Probably the 4th now. He wasn't just in another world, but a twenty-something years in the past.

The next thing to do was find somewhere to sleep, as well as get some cash. He didn't like the idea of constantly stealing things. Tomorrow he'd find out where he was in the timeline. Hopefully he'd have enough time to get stronger before Omni-Man decided to thin the number of superheroes. If memory served, Mark lived in Chicago and not New York that Marvel loved so much.

Currently, he couldn't fly, it hurt to crash-land, and he was getting hungry and tired. Kryptonians didn't need to eat, sleep, or breath. He definitely needed to train to get stronger. Omni-Man would turn him into paste. Hell, Immortal would probably kick his ass.

Further planning could be done in the morning. He was fucking tired.

~

Finding a place to sleep was easier than he had expected. It was a barn rather than a bed, but it was better than nothing. Not having any money was a pain in the ass. Getting some cash was a good idea. He wouldn't be against doing a smash and grab on an ATM. Banks were insured, he did have some morals. Not to mention he needed to gather some more information about the world too. This wasn't as lighthearted as it first appeared. The plot went from Saturday Morning Cartoons to Rated-R fast.

The Smallville library was a small building that looked to have once been a Pizza Hutt, or the equivalent in this universe. There was an older man with thin, wispy gray hair at the front desk. He took one look at him, then pointed to the row of three computers. The monitors were those old models that could be used as a weapon and the towers had originally been white but hadn't been for a long time. It struck him as an honest shock when the connection wasn't still dial-up.

He did a couple of quick searches. His knowledge of the Invincible Verse was decent. He read the comics and watched the first season of the show. As usual, the comics were harsher than the show and he thought it was connected to the some of the other Image characters too. It only took one search to discover that this wasn't the same world as the one he knew. Omni-Man and the Guardians of the Globe were still stationed in Chicago and were more like the Guardians of America with the occasional international trip. They were one of the major hero teams, but they weren't the only one. Most countries have at least one superhero if not a team. The United States had quite a few. New York had The Seven with Homelander in charge. Thankfully, this appeared to be the show version. He'd rather not have to deal with a psychotic Homelander clone. Seattle was protected by The Powerpuff Girls of all people. They looked like normal teenage girls rather than bobble-head freaks. San Fransico was had the Incredibles and Frozone with a few minor changes to adapt from the vaguely 1950s nostalgia to a modern esthetic. Monster attacks were common across the entire world. They varied from Kaiju to human-sized with some Monster Girls mixed in for added flavor.

This would make some of his meta-knowledge less than helpful. Though the extra heroes might help if the Viltrumites still invaded. The good news was that Invincible hadn't made an appearance yet, so he had some time before the main plot kicked off.

His next search was for DC Comics. He wasn't going to call his body Superman, but it was just too tempting to go with Clark Kent for a name. Had he jumped off the side of the house while wearing a cape? Did he style his hair to get that little curl? Did he watch the Christopher Reeves Superman Movie so many times that his parents hid the VHS from him? Possibly. In his defense, he was a kid.

There weren't any DC comics in this universe. A small smile crossed his face. Clark Kent was open, and he was taking it. A name wouldn't mean much without a paper trail. Yet another thing he needed money to get. Connections too, it wasn't like he could just go to a corner shop and order a fake ID.

Clark stepped out onto the street about an hour later. Just in time to see a trio of black SUVs roll down Main Street. The windows were completely opaque, and they didn't have plates. Clark needed to put some distance between him and this town. The name of the organization escaped him. All that Clark could remember was Cecil, the guy with the scar on his face. Clark wasn't evil, for the most part, but he'd rather not get discovered until Clark was ready.

Running off into the horizon would only draw more attention to his body. That meant mundane options were the best choice. Yet another thing that required money. Clark took a seat on a nearby bench and simply watched the people around town. There had to be ways to get cash under the table even in a town like this. Smallville was more than a single stoplight and a post office, which meant there had to be a bad side to it.

His search started on the roads running parallel to the main strip then expanding out little by little. Clark did his best to stay under the radar. It was still mid-morning, so most people were working. Summer vacation actually helped him blend in. Clark was just another teenager who was set loose on the town.

It didn't take him long to find the rougher parts of Smallville. The first trailer park Clark found had well-maintained units in each lot rather than a cluster of single-wide mobile homes that were out of style in the 80s. Clark found another that was a step down in quality, but not low-class enough to catch his attention. The trailers weren't as new but still showed signs of being maintained. There was only one car partially disassembled. It was held up by a couple of proper jacks and had a professional looking hook-thing holding the engine.

Finally, Clark started to see the signs of a rougher patch of town once Clark hit the outskirts. Older houses that had once been nice but now needed some repairs. His trek didn't truly start to get results until Clark found the first collapsed house. Graffiti covered the exterior. The untouched patches were charred, and the roof was partially collapsed. Two lots down held a cracked cement foundation that was being reclaimed by nature.

Clark hated using stereotypes. Still, this was small town America, someone had to be cooking or growing something illegal. There were more people around. They made his thrift shop outfit look high quality in comparison. Clark kept moving until Clark caught an acrid scent on the air. Either someone had a booming hustle developing film, or there was a Meth house nearby.

It wasn't hard to find once Clark could smell it. They weren't trying too hard to hide. The house had strange stains creeping up the sides from the ground and the knee-high weeds in the yard had been worn down by frequent use as a parking lot. There was even an RV in the busted drive-way. A couple of rough looking white trash were stationed in the front yard. They were lounging on a bench that was obviously taken from the town. One was drinking something from an unmarked bottle while the other was smoking. The pile of stomped out cigs told anyone paying attention that Clark had been there for a while.

"Please tell him the dealer is named Jesse," Clark chuckled to his body.

They attempted to give him a threatening glare when they saw him. Clark altered his path toward them. The duo stood. Both had guns tucked in their belts. The drinker rested his hand on the grip while the smoker took a step forward.

"What the fuck do you want?" Smoker barked at him.

How to handle this? Clark could try to bullshit his way into the house. A wicked smile crossed his face as Clark continued to approach, but he really wanted to try out these powers some more.

Smoker didn't get a chance to reach for his gun before Clark was in front of him. Clark grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close, using him as a human shield. Drinker scrambled to get his gun. Clark put Smoker in a headlock, grabbed his gun, and shot Drinker a few times. Killing them with super strength would leave a trail. With Drinker down, Clark turned the gun on Smoker and ended him with a shot to the dome.

Clark grabbed Drinkers' gun before stepping inside the house. There were only a few drugged-out pieces of trash in the living room. His enhanced speed made taking them down easy. Clark had plenty of time to aim, fire, and move to the next. The first stolen gun ran dry, so he dropped it and changed it to the other. Both were cheap junk that felt like plastic rather than metal or ceramic. There was a pump-action shotgun near one of the now-dead druggies that looked to be in better quality. If Clark remembered, he'd grab it on the way out. A pawn shop might give him a decent price for it, though walking around with a shotgun would draw unwanted attention.

The sound of rushed movement downstairs confirmed his suspicions of a basement lab. There was a set of stairs leading to the second floor. Hed check it out later if Clark couldn't find anything worth taking in the basement. There was a door leading downstairs in the kitchen. Clark opened it then stepped to the side. A burst of gunfire pushed the door closed, then knocked it off the wall. He waited until the shooting stopped. It hurt went Clark crashed into the ground last night and Clark was in no hurry to see how bulletproof he was at the moment.

Clark jumped through the doorway, soared the length of the stairs, and crashed into the basement properly. A group of thugs broke his fall. In return, his fall broke a few of them. The smell of chemicals was thick in the air. Gunfire down here was not a good idea. The place hadn't exploded from their volley. Clark was not going to count on that luck holding.

One of the thugs tried to shoot him. Clark grabbed his hand and pressed the barrel of his gun into one of his coworkers. The body muffled the shot. Clark helped ease his guilt by snapping his neck. The other guy was mostly dead already as Clark took the brunt of his landing. Clark squinted his eyes, concentrating as Clark stared at him. The skin blinked away for a moment, exposing musculature, but flickering back into view. Clark tried again, this time focusing on a smaller portion of his body. Skin and muscle vanished as his X-Ray vision scanned the body. The injuries came from a few broken bones that looked natural enough and a gunshot in the side with a pool of blood underneath him was growing at an impressive rate.

It was tempting to torch the place, but this was a world of superpowers. One of these guys was likely to gain some fucked up power rather than die. Clark ended his suffering with a quick snap of his neck. Leaving him bleeding there would have been cruel.

The cooking area was separated from the stairs by a shower curtain. Considering the state of the house, and the thugs, it was an impressive setup. It looked like they had stripped a chemistry lab of equipment, broke some of it, and replaced it with whatever they could get their hands on.

Clark gave it all a passing glance before he searched for their cash. Unfortunately, they didn't have stacks of it out on a table like they do in all those horrible action movies. They did have a repurposed gun-safe. His enhanced hearing made it a breeze to crack the lock. This was where they kept the stacks of cash. The safe had three rows back and two high columns of bound bills. His messenger bag was stuffed with cash underneath his extra clothes.

Looking down at his body, he realized that he needed to change already. Walking around covered in blood and dirt would draw too much attention. First, he needed to get out of here. Clark put his hood up and made his way outside, then jogged a couple of roads closer to town.

Clark changed into new clothes. Some jeans, a button-down shirt, and a sweater. Thrift Store Prep wasn't the style he usually wore, but this new body looked good in it. The glasses completed the classic Clark Kent look. His previous clothes were tossed in a few dumpsters around town once he had changed. Smallville didn't have an airport which put the next stop as the bus station.

If memory served, Mark didn't get his powers until after school started. Most states would put that around August. That would give him a little over a month to train before Clark got involved. Staying out of the plot wasn't an option considering it was simply a matter of time before the Viltrumite arrived. Technically, it wasn't an invasion considering they decided to blend in, but with the changes to the world there was no guarantee that things would go the same way.

Before Clark could do all that, he still needed proof that he existed. Smallville wasn't big enough for someone to get lost in the system, imagine that. Kansas City, though, would be the perfect place to get something going.

Clark got a bus ticket to Kansas City and settled into a rather comfortable seat for the ride. Training and getting more powerful would be the next step in the plan. He needed to soak in the sun and adjust to his abilities. Arizona sounded nice this time of the year. Actually, it sounded horrible, but there would be plenty of sun.

~

Monster attacks were wonderful things. Not really, but they made getting 'replacement' documents so much easier. It took two hours to get a new Birth Certificate, Social Security Card, and an ID. The tired clerk didn't even question him when he said that Smallville was currently being rebuilt from a monster attack. Clark filled out a form, paid a fee, and walked out officially as Clark Kent. They didn't even try to call Smallville to verify the story.

Most monsters were basically wild animals. Every now and then they would go into a Rush and just attack everything in sight. Local law enforcement and heroes did their best to minimize the damage, but they still caused a lot of destruction. Monster girls could be 'tamed' and wouldn't go into a Rush. Wild ones were more intelligent than normal monsters meaning they could cause significantly more damage, targeting people rather than random destruction.

His hometown was listed as Smallville, because it just felt right. Clark had them set his age as eighteen. Was that correct? Clark had no clue, but it would cause less problems when traveling across state lines. It also meant he could avoid going back to high school.

Clark hopped on another bus once he had his paperwork in order. After learning there were creatures that were basically dinosaurs still around an airplane wasn't something he wanted to try. With his luck, a pterodactyl on steroids would decide that the plane was their soulmate.

Taking a bus was just fine for now.

~

Thirty-eight hours and forty-one minutes later he arrived in Tucson, Arizona. The sun had just started rising and it was already getting hot. His Kryptonian physiology took the edge off, making it pleasantly warm rather than sweltering.

The ticket to Arizona was around four-hundred dollars. Adding the food along the way came to closer to six. There were multiple stops on the route, some just for gas while others were for people to get on or off. Clark decided to count the rest of the money he had when the numbers had thinned out. There was enough space to stretch out across a row and plenty of privacy. The bills were a mix of tens, twenty-dollar bills, and fifties with no apparent sorting or standard amount of bills. That was annoying so Clark took some time to organize it all while he was counting it out. Clark still had a little over two-hundred thousand bills split between the three denominations.

Clark stripped off his sweater, rolled up his sleeves, and undid the first few buttons on his shirt. It might have just been his imagination, but he swore he could feel the sun powering him up. Clark walked down the streets, making sure to get as much light as he could, and looking for a place he could use to train. His first choice, and the entire reason he came to Tucson was The Boneyard, a place was decommissioned aircraft were stored. They didn't do tours anymore, so Clark needed to keep an eye out for staff and do his workouts at night.

With an ID Clark could get a hotel room without any issues. It was on the top floor with easy access to the roof and he paid to stay until the first of August. That should give him time to soak up some sun before he got a place to stay in Chicago. It felt odd to think about getting a job when he was in a new world and had superpowers.

"Even Superman has a day job," Clark muttered.

He couldn't call this body Superman. Omni-Man had been around for years so he would sound like a knock-off, but the suit did have the 'S' on it. Another name that started with the same letter.

"S… s…," Clark mumbled. "Yeah, I got nothing."

He spent the rest of the first day stretched out on the roof of the hotel only wearing his pants. The bodysuit came off a lot more easily that he had expected. Seams along the torso would loosen once he pressed a little catch on his belt. It would instantly go from a second-skin to a loose cloak. The 'underwear' hid the start of the seam from view. Clark had the suit folded to the size of a deck of cards, even the 'S' shield was pliable. The big radio alarm clock had enough room for it once he popped it open.

It was at least one month to get prepared for Omni-Man going crazy. How would that work now that there were more heroes around? The Guardians of the Globe were the biggest hurdle for him to remove in the original setting, but now there was The Seven, Powerpuff Girls, and the Incredibles to deal with. This world might stand a better chance with just Omni-Man to worry about. It wouldn't be until the remaining Viltrumite Empire arrived that things would get bad.

Or if he managed to recruit Mark. Hell, Homelander could probably be swayed to his side with the right approach. Damn, he really needed to get stronger. If the characters stuck close to their original selves then he would probably have to kill Homelander at the very least.

The plan was simple, spend all day soaking up the sun then night training trying to push and lift planes. Was it before or after Christmas? Damn, Clark couldn't remember. Did the seasons ever really change in the comic? Clark knew that time passed, things actually changed in this world.

Clark was going to change this world.

~

His progress was slow and steady. Clark spent each night rearranging the rows of planes. The first week it took him all night to shuffle three fighters. Two weeks later he was able to rearrange an entire lane of ten before sunrise. Clark moved on to the bombers after that. Those were harder to move without being noticed, so he would life them on his back and swap their places. Clark quickly found that this world used something closer to the rules of the real-world. Putting too much force on a small area of something so big would punch a hole in it. Luckily, the planes were basically shrink wrapped for protection and had straps for easy towing.

The only planes that were regularly checked were the ones from Vietnam or World War One. Even then, those were sporadic. They had closed off public tours. Clark wasn't sure if they did private ones, but they certainly didn't both being subtle with it.

Clark tried to fly again once his training started to show progress. One of the fan-theories was that Superman could via his strength. He just couldn't stay in the air beyond bounding like Hulk. There were plenty of open stretches of desert to use as practice space. Clark didn't think the Boneyard was a good place for it as he didn't want to draw too much attention to his body. His first few attempts left impact craters which led him to focus on his landings.

His progress took a sharp turn about a month in. The Arizona sun was doing him some good. Clark went from moving a couple of bombers a night to an entire row. His real breakthrough was when he woke up with his face pressing into the ceiling of his hotel room. Thankfully, it was just gentle floating without any real power behind it. Clark didn't want to have to explain to the hotel why there was a human shaped hole in their ceiling.

Finding somewhere to practice flying was a much harder nut to crack. To complicate things further his speed increased exponentially at the same time. Clark didn't realize that he had stopped eating until a few days after his last meal. The Arizona sun helped kick his Kryptonian physiology into full gear. Clark filled the bathtub in the hotel room and stayed underwater for two hours before he got bored. Breathing, eating, and sleeping were now something he did out of habit rather than need. Clark had to admit, the lack of sleep was probably the first sign of the changes, but Clark had the bad habit of staying up way too late, so it took a while to notice.

It was the later part of July when Clark finally put his suit back on. The cape stayed packed away. Omni-Man might be basically an evil Superman, but in this world Clark was the rip-off, and not even the firsts one. That would go to Homelander. A cape would just enforce the idea that Clark was stealing his look. That and he could hear Edna Mode screaming 'No Capes!' when he thought too long about wearing it. Clark wondered if she existed in this world. The Incredibles were here and wore the same style of suits. It would make sense that she was the one to make them.

There wasn't anywhere in Tucson that Clark could practice his flying or increased speed without giving his body away. Some research (tourist pamphlets in the hotel lobby) told him there were some abandoned or decommissioned mines in the state. Clark could potentially use them to practice underground, but something about it didn't feel right. Flying at top speed would be able to be tracked regardless of if he was above or below ground. The fact that he hadn't been caught yet was surprising, but then he wasn't doing more than moving around decommissioned planes at this point. Either they had more important things to handle or were keeping an eye on him. It was a toss-up considering there was a new monster attack, supervillain, or natural disaster every other day.

Training his Heat and X-Ray vision was a lot easier than his other powers. Clark practiced by boiling water, then keeping it at the same range until the water evaporated. His hotel room had soup pots of various size scattered around the flat surfaces. Freezing breath was another that he could work on in the hotel room. Clark got an ice-cube tray and practiced his precision.

Clark couldn't think of another way to test his body without exposing his body to the Global Defense Agency. That sounded better in his head. Clark had no clue how he stacked up against Omni-Man or the other heroes around the world. Clark might not be able to hide, but he didn't have to make it easy for them. A little misdirection would go a long way.

There wasn't enough time to make believable power-armor, even a fake, but Clark could get a 'magical' artifact that gave him powers. It was a common trope among superheroes, even here there was the Green Ghost that needed an amulet to activate their powers.

Choosing an amulet would be lazy and easily lost. A circlet or ring might work, but it needed to be big enough to notice. Clark could claim it was the suit and that without it, Clark was powerless. That could backfire spectacularly. Someone would attack him while he was in his normal clothes in hopes to catch him unaware, which would put everyone around him in danger. Maybe that wasn't a good idea after all. A piece of armor or jewelry would be the same logic.

Just wait until Clark didn't have it on. Boom, ambush, and untold collateral damage. Better to drop the idea now rather than in the middle of a pile of corpses.

It was time to catch a bus to Chicago. Maybe he could come up with a name along the way.

~

The bus arrived in Chicago around three in the morning. Clark had purchased an actual suitcase through the time in Arizona. His bags were barely in his hands before an alarm went off. It wasn't far down the street either. A moment later it was followed by an explosion. The people around him ran for cover.

Clark sighed and set down his suitcase. The only one that stuck around was the driver. This was old hat to him it seemed.

"Make sure that it's still here when I get back," Clark told the driver.

The driver nodded in reply. Clark turned toward the explosion and ran. The world around him slowed as he pushed his speed to the point that he would be a blur on most security cameras, taking off his clothes as he went. Clark came to a stop outside the exploded building wearing his suit. The cape was still packed away in his suitcase. In truth, it made him feel a little silly. His civilian clothes were scattered along the road, but Clark would worry about those later.

"Clone!" A rough voice yelled. "What part of quiet did you not understand?"

"You're the clone!" The same voice yelled back. "Only an inferior copy would miss the hidden turrets."

The Mauler Twins. If memory served, the first time they appeared in the show was when they attacked the White House. In the comics, they were stopped by Invincible and the Teen Team while trying to rob a shopping mall. It looked like his knowledge of the timeline wasn't going to be all that helpful after all. Hopefully, things didn't change too much.

Clark looked at the remains of the building. It was some sort of mechanical parts store.

"A parts shop had hidden turrets?" Clark couldn't help but ask.

The duo of blue superhumans were taller than expected. They easily stood seven-foot and had to look down at him.

"Who are you?" They said in unison.

Clark smiled at them.

"Sentinel," Clark replied.

"Sentinel?" One of them asked.

"You're the Mauler Twins, right?" Clark asked before they could attack. "You do realize that by now you're both clones?"

"I'm not a clone," they said at the same time.

"How many times have you, or your clones, died?" Clark asked crossing his arms. "You're smart enough to know the odds of the original surviving multiple times are really low."

"I'm not a clone!" The one on the right roared.

Righty leapt at him with both arms outstretched. Clark caught his hands and twisted. Clark tilted to the side and slid head-first along the pavement when Clark let him go. Lefty used the distraction to clock him with a fist the size of his head. Clark felt the impact and saw the dust from puff into the air at the contact.

Much to his surprise, and some of his own, the punch knocked him back a few steps. Lefty stared at him as Clark straightened his posture.

"You'll have to forgive him," Clark shrugged. "This is his first real fight. I'll try not to turn you into paste."

"I won't!" Lefty yelled, lunging at him again.

Time slowed. Literally. It wasn't tunnel vision, adrenaline, or whatever biological function kicked in during high-stress situations. Clark was moving faster than the rest of the world. Lefty floated toward him in slow motion as Righty started to stand. Clark had spent time controlling his strength, now it was time to really test it out.

Clark ducked under the incoming punch, lifted Lefty up if one hand, twisted, and slammed him into the ground. Righty had gotten to his feet and was about to ambush him. Time sped back up just long enough for him to pause and smile at Righty making sure the Mauler Twin saw it. Clark put some extra power in his next punch, an uppercut that snapped Righty's head back with a loud crack. Righty fell over like a tree in a storm. His enhanced hearing let him know that Clark wasn't going to be getting up.

Too hard then.

Lefty growled something at him. Time was still moving slower so his voice became too stretched out to understand. That was something he would need to keep in mind. Clark reached out at him with a snarl twisted on his face. Killing both of the Mauler Twins wasn't what he had planned for today. Instead, Clark grabbed the outstretched arm and squeezed. The bones in his grasp shattered easily.

"Are you ready to give up, or do I need to do the rest of your limbs?" Clark let the now-limp arm drop to the ground.

"You killed him!" Righty yelled back at him.

Righty scrambled to his feet with his arm dangling uselessly at his side. He tried to punch Clark with his other arm.

"You said he was a clone," Clark stepped back out of his range. "If that's true, then you can just make another." Another swing dodged. "You're telling me that if you were the clone that he would treat you like a brother?"

"He wasn't yours to kill," Righty cocked his arm back and swung a haymaker.

Clark caught his fist and squeezed. A cluster of audible pops coupled with screams let him know that both of Righty's hands were now useless.

"Do you have an emergency clone in case both of you die?" Clark asked grabbing a handful of his shirt and lifting him off his feet.

Righty desperately kicked his legs and flailed the arm with less broken bones at him, using his forearm smacked into the top of his head repeatedly. Clark could feel the impact, but it was more like someone patting him then actual strikes now that he was prepared for it.

"It would only make sense, right?" Clark continued to hold him there.

"Who are you?" A flat voice asked.

Clark turned his head to see Robot and the rest of the Teen Team approaching.

"Sentinel," Clark tilted his head in greeting. "Give me a second."

Clark tossed Righty in the air, snatched a handful of his shirt a little lower on his torso, and twisted before sending him headfirst into the ground. His body punched a hole in the pavement and didn't stop until it was up to his shoulders.

"He's still alive," Clark said as he dusted off his hands. "But, that one isn't."

Clark noticed something strange now that he could focus on them. They were all female. Rex, Eve, Kate, and another girl that looked like her, but wasn't a double. Robot was a humanoid shape; their voice didn't have an inflection or tone that hinted at a gender.

"Sentinel?" The girl that could only be Rex Splode asked. "Did you come up with that before you got the stripper outfit?"

"Roxie," Eve snapped.

"I'm not complaining," Roxie, not Rex, laughed. "Hey, Kate, do you have any singles?"

Kate rolled her eyes at the other.

"I might," the other Asian girl piped up.

"That's my girl, Callie," Roxie cheered.

"We are the Teen Team," Robot didn't bother acknowledging the others. "Atom Eve, Boomer, Dupli-Kate, and Identi-Cal. I am Robot."

"Do the police take these guys away, or what?" Clark asked motioning at the Mauler Twins.

"I will contact the authorities," Robot replied.

"Do you know what they were after?" Eve asked.

"Nope," Clark shook his head. "This place exploded, they came out when I investigated."

Clark easily lifted Righty out of the hole in the ground and set him flat on the street. He was groaning, his eyes were half-open, but they weren't seeing anything. Clark scanned the area for something to bind him. For a moment Clark considered twisting his arms into a knot. This world might be darker than it originally appeared, but that wasn't the impression he wanted to make.

"Do you need him to stick around?" Clark asked. "This is my first time."

Clark blushed the moment the words left his mouth.

"Just popped your cherry?" Roxie leered at him.

"Roxie," Kate pinched the bridge of her nose.

Clark didn't blush. Anyone who says differently is lying.