Clark felt sweat pouring down his brow. He'd been training in the cell for... days? He felt like he'd run a thousand miles, then for a second like he had run ten times that much. The cell was so isolated from the outside world that Clarke had come to only expect Zod's orders and the cell's refusal to budge. It was like being trapped in the grip of fortress.
Zod had answered whatever questions Clark had asked. Krypton, his homeworld, had been destroyed by machines. The machines were led by someone called Brainiac. Not man or machine, Brainiac destroyed Krypton and all its colony worlds. And it could have been stopped. Zod had made sure Clark understood that.
A force so ancient and powerful, almost as old as Krypton, had stood aside. Zod spoke their name “Green Lantern Corps.” like it made him puke. Once guardians of justice, Zod spat out every single misjustice the Green Lanterns had done to Krypton.
Zod had been the Lantern of Krypton, during his earliest years. Zod had hoped to be the paragon of his world. But within two years, he retired from the Corps. Zod had gotten into an argument with one of the higher ranking Lanterns, Sinis, over treatment of a race that had rebelled against their masters – who had, until their fall, been allies of the Lanterns. Zod had argued in favor to try and stop lives from being lost, but Sinis had led strikes against the rebel race until they surrendered to their new masters, the Lanterns.
The enslavement had hardened Zod, made him give up his ring and wipe his slate of the ordeal. With Sinis gaining power in the Corps., Zod got into the Kryptonian military. Zod anticipated a war with the Corps. at any turn, after refusing to allow Krypton to submit to the Lanterns' jurisdiction.
The tense years passed though, and Krypton's diplomats, even Clark's father, had begun to help ease the anger between the Lanterns and Krypton. Then the machines came, first quietly, then in masses. Despite pleas even by other powerful nations, the Lanterns refused to intercede in the war, citing various reasons not to. The Lanterns cut off the space surrounding Krypton, letting no nation pass.
And every time Zod referenced death of Krypton, Clark could see the pain and anger behind Zod's cold exterior. How Zod kept it together was beyond Clark's wildest imaginations.
“Alright soldier,” Zod said, as Clark began finishing his latest sit-up. “Stand to attention!”
Clark hastily rose, but the work and the cell was wearing him out.
“It's been exactly...” Zod said, raising his watch as he paused, “seventy-two hours and you are still functioning. Without a break. I must say, Clark, that's impressive. Jor-El only lasted maybe fifty. It takes a real iron will to keep going so long. Maybe we will make something out of you after all...”
“We... are supposed to keep going... until... I fall over?” Clark asked, exasperatedly falling on his back.
“Of course. How else do we know when your breaking point is? They don't make these cells to give you a workout, Clark. They're made to push a man until he breaks. You still haven't broken, but I want you broken. I see how far you can go, and we can definitely work with that,” Zod said.
“Why haven't... we needed... to eat... or sleep...,” Clark asked.
“Kryptonians don't eat as often as humans – once a week's pretty good, but our portions are a great deal larger. I swear that these people have no stomachs to speak of at all,” Zod said. “As to sleep – the cell may absorb most of your power, but it gives you energy in return. Keeps you awake. Like coffee constantly dripping into your veins.”
“This is insane,” Clark said, wiping the sweat off his face.
“This is the real world. Not the one where you're just tougher than the average lunk. You need to be ready because times are changing. There was one worldwide war and it didn't exactly end – they're just sitting back and taking a rest so they have more soldiers to throw at each other again,” Zod said. “This planet is too disorderly. Logic and reason get thrown out the window in favor of hedonism and tribal rage.”
“What's wrong with that? I thought you liked being angry...” Clark said, grinning weakly, but still cockily.
“Anger isn't the same thing as what these people are. Anger is a finely cut blade that you stab into your opponents throat, letting him drop down as cold and dead as a doornail. These people just get mad about every little fricking thing. 'These people look different', 'my kids aren't doing well in primary school', 'why isn't the government more in charge', 'why isn't the government less in charge' – bah!” Zod answered. “They have no idea what real problems are. Lets see them make sense of an interstellar war between two races, both of which have completely different biology, physiology, and means of travel though space and time.”
“Fact is Clark, we're going to have to make as best we can until these humans figure out how to get into space – which looks to be almost a hundred years from now. So the best I can do is make sure you're ready for whatever comes your way. I'm old, and I don't think I'm going to be seeing another Kryptonian besides you,” Zod said.
Clark rose slowly, his body finally beginning to relax.
“I understand. We need to be ready. There is one thing though, before we continue,” Clark said.
“What's that?” Zod asked.
“I need to visit someone,” Clark said.
