#error1nmycode

        “I thought you were synthezoid.”

     “It is alright to just pet someone’s dog right? It’s not one of your country’s strange rules correct? Because there was a little tiny one and I couldn’t help myself. His owner looked offended!”

“I see.”  Part of him wished to say that he could only imagine having to witness your brother die.  However, such horror was not left to the imagination, even if Tim’s death was but a perceived one.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sure your brother was a good person.”  He oft wondered what his grave site looked like, during his time dead.  Were there mementos of the things he loved?  Or just the stone obelisk that stood over his casket?

       “Oooh, do I get a medal for that?” rolling around mid-air he ‘sits’ straight up. “I got lonely. So, I came to find you.”

“--Okay, maybe it’s a little dangerous.” He was trying to reassure her that it wasn’t dangerous. It usually worked with his mom--or he thought. Perhaps his mother knew at this point she couldn’t stop him, even if she wanted to. “But I can handle it, Viv. It’s just some aliens. I deal with this all the time.” But that wasn’t a reason to be careless. These guys managed to get past him and make their way to Earth. 

Taking a deep breathe, the Kryptonian held the Kryptonite necklace he wore, urging it to dull his senses more, to weaken his Krypton gene. ‘Come on Jon, you need to work,’ Jon thought, focusing on ignoring the taste of blood in the air and the sight of the ongoing battle, instead running to the nearest downed civilian. As he ran, that familiar shade of green and pink caught his eyes, quickly causing him to stiffen and look away, his hands reaching up to pull down his hat further down to hide his face before pushing his sunglasses closer to hide his blue eyes. No. He had to remain hidden. The shame of not being able to handle the responsibilities of a hero, something every teen hero seemed to handle well, and not being able to cope with his almost death... he had to keep hidden from his former friends. Bowing his head down, he scurried to the nearest civilian, removing his bagpack and unloading a few of its contents. “Hello sir,” Jon started, now focusing on the man and keeping himself small and unnoticeable to the heroes moving around nearby.

     “     People can be... MEAN, is all. I am hoping that if they think I have COOL FRIENDS like you, they will be NICER.      ”