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Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warnings:

Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death

Categories:

F/MGen

Fandoms:

Parahumans Series - WildbowSuperman - All Media TypesSuperman (Comics)

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Additional Tags:

AngstCrossoverNot a Fix-ItAmnesiaTrying to do gooddumb main characterNot a stompficIn character LisaAntagonist Lisa

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English

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Published:2025-02-21Updated:2026-07-01Words:146,552Chapters:49/?Comments:137Kudos:230Bookmarks:90Hits:12,983

...But I was Superboy

Leotholdus

Chapter 22: Justice - 2.1

Chapter Text

Beams of moonlight cut through the blinds, small slices of brightness on the kitchen table. The natural illumination outshone the weak electric glow from the street lamps outside. No rain fell outside, no clouds to obscure the crescent in the sky.

Clark sat. He stared at the tabletop. The fourth board from the left had come from a tree twenty three years old. The fifth board had come from the same tree, a little further up on the trunk. The grain at the top of the fourth board matched the grain at the bottom of the fifth. He could see the microscopic scratches that the sandpaper had left on the edges, repeated in a circular motion. The moonbeams cast lines of light, filtered through the half-open blinds. Bars of light and bars of shadow, one after the other.

He kept his hands folded before him. The buzz of the city's electrical grid faded. The sound of a weak wind that swept down the alleyways around the building, forced out of his ears. No more sounds. No more noise. His muscles tensed. One by one, he could flex each individual muscle fiber. Every tendon, every movement, all of it under conscious and direct control. All clenched, flexed at the same time, then relaxed. Clark repeated the process a few times.

A heavy, sharp knock on the table made him look up from the woodgrain he had been studying. Tevye stood there in his loose white T-shirt and blue plaid pajama pants. A ragged old bathrobe hung over his thin frame, with huge, bulging pockets. He had a checkered board in hand, and a soft smile on his face.

"Still awake, I see."

Clark gave a mute nod in response.

Tevye slid the board across the table to Clark and began to rummage about in his bathrobe pockets. "Finally finished the set. Took a bit to stain them, and the black side might be somewhat mismatched in their colors, but you should be able to tell them apart."

Piece by piece, the older man began to set up a chessboard. Black pieces on his side, white pieces on Clark's. After a few moments, Clark began to help him. They stayed in that silence while they prepared the board, though Tevye had an occasional unintelligible grumble whenever he noticed an imperfection on a piece. The horse heads on the knights had mismatched eyes, the bishops were different heights, and no pawn had a similar size to their tops. Even with misshapen sizes and angles, each one had a clear silhouette, purpose, and place.

Tevye eyed Clark expectantly once the board had been set up. "Your side goes first, Clark. Make your move."

"I'm… I'm sorry, Tevye. I'm not good at chess. I'm no good at much of anything. I don't know how to be a hero, I don't know how to-"

"Clark." Tevye interrupted Clark's spiraling. "It is simple. You pick up a piece and move it. You know how to play chess, yes? Then move."

Clark moved a pawn at the center of the board. Tevye nodded at the choice, tapping the side of his chin. "A fine move. Classic. You doubt yourself too much, Clark."

"I know." He hunched his shoulders. "I just… I can't keep screwing up like this. Nothing I do works out. I trust the wrong people, or I get too wrapped up in stupid plans, or I make the wrong decisions, or-"

"Clark." Tevye moved his pawn in a mirror of Clark's move. "I will tell you a story. You will listen. Okay? Okay good."

The thin man folded his arms, and waited for Clark to make his move. "I first heard this story from my father, and he heard it from his father before him. His father heard it from a beggar named Schmaike, and Schmaike heard it from his cousin, and so on and so forth, until the gravedigger Yaakov, who witnessed this himself."

Clark moved a second pawn, next to the first. Once more, Tevye mirrored him. The older man thought to himself in silence for a few moments, before he continued his tale. "A long time ago. In the old country, in the older still city of Prague, angry hatred has endured for over a thousand years. Our people lived in a walled ghetto then. Made to keep us in, and keep others out. Our people in the ghetto lived through the ignorant hate of the city. Enemies accused us of mixing the blood of Christian children with flour and water of matzoh. The Blood Lie, as it was known."

"Tevye, I appreciate what you have done for me, but I don't understand where this is going."

"No interruptions." Tevye pointed at Clark, then at the board. "Make your move and be quiet now, okay?"

With a nod, Clark did as he was told.

"The chief Rabbi at the time was Rabbi Loew. A wise man. Well read." Tevye smiled to himself. "Far better read than me. He knew the future was dark. The king in Prague did not like the Jews, and bad times were on the horizon."

The mayoral election, finished at seven that night, sprang to Clark's mind. Max Anders had won in a landslide. Too many in Brockton identified with the fears he played to. That the PRT did not do enough. That they even were aligned with the criminals they had promised to imprison. That the city wasn't safe, and that it should be responsible for its own protection against 'subversive elements that lurked by the Docks.' People knew what he alluded to, of course. Most of Brockton Bay's non white population lived by the Docks, if they did not squat in one of the abandoned homes. Not an open cry for violence, but a convenient way to lay the problems of the city at the feet of any besides the Empire. Coil would still have the blackmail to prove his connection to Empire Eighty-Eight, and perhaps Clark could grab the documents himself, but even with that, he worried that the city would still not oust Max Anders even after a reveal like that. Not after this election, not after other things he had overheard the people of the bay discuss when they thought no one could listen.

"Rabbi Loew prayed, and slept. He had a vision of a divine word: Golem. He knows what this is, because he is a smart man, and he knows many things." Tevye moved his piece, and gestured for Clark to take his turn. "Golem is a man shaped from the clay at the water's edge, brought to life by Kabbalah."

Clark looked up at the unfamiliar word.

"I will explain." Tevye took a deep breath, paused, then shook his head. "No. I will sum up. Kabbalah is mystical knowledge. That is all you need to know. Now, as I was saying, Rabbi Loew knew what a Golem was, and so, he went to the riverside at night, and took the clay. With it he formed a man. Strong, and broad, sculpted from the clay, drawn from the water."

Pawn in hand, Clark knocked away Tevye's piece. Tevye moved his queen forward, taking the pawn Clark had used.

"Rabbi Loew used his knowledge to give the clay life, for he knew how to do many things. He did much to give life to the golem, but the most important was this: upon his head, he carved a word. EMET, or Truth. This is what made the clay man stand up. Complete and perfect and alive. The Golem looked to his creator. He took in the world, the river, the clay from which he came. And he said to the Rabbi 'Father, is this wise to do?'"

Tevye went silent. His soft, brown eyes made contact with Clark's. "When I pulled you from the waters of the bay, do you know what you said to me?"

Clark shook his head.

"You asked me if I was sure I wanted to rescue you. You said it like you had committed some great crime." He sighed. "I know you do not remember your past. I know you were scarred and bruised. I know you have nightmares that haunt you. I have heard your cries in your sleep. But know that you are a person, regardless of your past. I will continue my story."

It took some time for Clark to decide on his move, a knight brought to threaten Tevye's queen. He felt a full ache in his chest at Tevye's words, but tried not to think of it.

"Rabbi Loew says that they will see if it is wise, and gives him clothes to wear upon his back. They both go to the synagogue, where Rabbi Loew explains to the Golem his purpose. That his job is to help the Jews of Prague. That he is to do this by finding out those who tell the Blood Lie. He does not tell the Golem to fight and kill them, but to bring the truth into the light. For he believed that when the city sees the truth, that the Blood Lie is indeed a lie, they will stop some of their hatred towards our people."

Tevye brought his queen back, and continued to speak. "Rabbi Loew believed that the truth was all people needed to stop their hate. For a while, it worked. The Golem walked through the city. He listened, he watched, he interrogated. And every time a Christian child would go missing, the Golem would find out how and why. He solved their murders, and brought the those who had committed those evil deeds to arrested, so that people could no longer blame the Jews for these crimes."

While Clark considered his options, Tevye lapsed into silence once more. Clark had done his best. He had tried his hardest and still failed, time and time again. Sure, Lung had been imprisoned, but at what cost? Individual capes from the Empire had died, but the Neo-Nazi organization continued to power onwards and forwards, having taken the hits and ignored them. If anything, more and more people seemed to flock to the gang in light of the recent ABB fights. Perhaps that would die off now that the ABB looked to be dying, with its capes dead or captured. Maybe Anders' place as mayor would increase recruitment. Too many variables, too little he could do to fight back.

He moved a piece.

"The Golem did other work, too. For his purpose was to help, not to just stop the Blood Lie. The clay man would aid others around the ghetto. Building houses. Sawing logs. Carrying goods to market. His strength was great, and allowed him to give great aid to his people." Tevye kept his eyes on the board as he spoke. His head rest against his fist, his other had tapping against the tabletop. "The jails began to fill with the Golem's arrests, and the thoughtful in Prague began to see the Blood Lie for the slander it was. The enemies of the Jews grew angry, and knew their time in power had started to end. And so they gathered together a great mob of all those that hated, and marched on the ghetto. With swords and pitchforks and scythes, they came in their hundreds to the gates."

Tevye clenched his free hand into a fist. "Rabbi Loew saw this, and called for the Golem. They hurried to the gate, and the Rabbi told the Golem to protect them. The great clay man placed his hands on the gates and held them shut, but the mob brought forth a ram. They swung it against the gate, again, again, and again. The Golem held it shut until the gate broke in his hands, and the crowd began to rush in."

In his minds eye, Clark could see the crowd. The brown giant shaped from the earth, the glint of sunlight off the weapons of the mob as they surged around him.

"The Golem felt the mob around him and, full of fear for his creator and his people, fought back."

This was not the first story Tevye had told Clark. The old man loved his stories, and loved to tell Clark all the details he could, down to exactly where the story had come from. However, here the older man kept to himself, and gave no elaboration.

"When it had finished, what was left of the mob had run away. Rabbi Loew looked upon the scene. He wept. He brought the Golem back to the synagogue, and went to the king in Prague. The king, he had a fear in him. He knew how poorly the city had treated the Rabbi's people. He asked Rabbi Loew if the Golem would take revenge on the city, and do to it what he had done to the mob."

Tevye made his move. "The Rabbi, he scolded the king. The king's men had not protected the Jews. The king had ignored crimes committed against them. So, Rabbi Loew struck a deal. He promised the Golem would walk the streets of Prague no more, so long as the king protected the Jews and judged them by the same laws for the Gentiles, the Golem would no longer be."

With slow and certain movement, Tevye looked from the board to Clark's face. "The king agreed, but Rabbi Loew left with a warning. That if the Jews were to be mistreated again, the Golem would return. Stronger than ever before."

The intensity left Tevye's face, a wistfulness taking its place.Clark leaned forward, the game forgotten. "Rabbi Loew returned to the Golem. The Golem, he is smart, and he knows what is on the Rabbi's mind. He asks the Rabbi 'Father, will I remember this?' Rabbi Loew thinks, and responds. 'No. You will be clay.' With his staff, he reaches out, and erases the first letter from the word on the Golem's head. No longer does it read Truth. Now, it only says Death. The Golem was placed in the attic of the synagogue, buried in books. Though the Golem was not truly a man, Rabbi Loew recited the kaddish, the prayers for the dead."

No more words came from Tevye, the older man bowing his head in reverence towards the creature of his stories. The bars of moonlight had traversed over the chessboard, leaving it in darkness. The illumination covered only Tevye and his seat, nothing more.

"They say that the Golem slept the dreamless sleep of clay. But many say he will awaken, when the desperate need for justice is brought together with great and holy purpose. Then he will walk again, and protect us."

With the story finished, Tevye leaned back in his seat. He looked older, more frail than before. It seemed as if he had put part of his life into the story of the Golem. Neither Clark nor Tevye spoke for quite some time.

Of course, Clark could see some parallels that Tevye had drawn. He had been trying to protect and help his adoptive family. He had tried so hard, and yet every single time had brought forth nothing but failure after failure. This latest attempt had seen an ally and a good man be killed, all for Clark's poor planning. Calvert had not deserved it. Lung was captured, and along with Oni Lee's death, it meant that the Azn Bad Boyz were likely to die out within the week. But without Calvert's protection, it meant that his own family was vulnerable. He doubted if the PRT would keep Calvert's promises, especially after they had tried to capture him as well. He still did not understand why they had taken Grand Scorpion's side in that fight. He had heard that the klansman had been taken in alongside Lung, but that just confused him more. Why try to trap him in containment foam if they were going to take Grand Scorpion in as well. None of it made sense to him. Failure after failure.

And he had lost Tevye's coat. Burned by fire and the remnants discarded as he fled.

A coward.

"Why did you start your nighttime adventures, Clark?" Tevye said.

It took Clark some time to think of a response. He had abilities that others did not. Somehow, it felt natural to use those abilities out in the city. Besides, chasing down villains was the way the world should work.

"Because… because it was the right thing to do?" Clark hedged.

"Are you asking me or telling me? Nevermind. That's a noble goal, yes, but it can't be the only one. Think, Clark. Think!"

"I had to bring evildoers to justice." That felt like the most correct response. To Clark, it felt like it should be the only response.

Tevye shook his head. "No. I will ask a different question. Why did Rabbi Loew make the Golem?"

"To protect-"

"No! To help the Jews of Prague. It is good to protect, yes. It is important to bring the truth be seen. But the Golem was there to help. He was there for our people. Now Clark, you have done much, and I am thankful. We all are. But perhaps you should try a different, ah, approach. Now I have spoken my opinions enough for tonight, so I will not say more."

Tevye rose from the table, trailing off towards the kitchen. Clark checked the time on the stove clock - 2:46 in the morning. Tzipporah would be waking up soon, and Chava after that. The smell of eggs reached Clark's nose, and he left the half-finished chess game to trail Tevye into the kitchen. While Tevye cooked, Clark took some green onions from the fridge and began to chop them. He allowed his senses to expand once more while he worked. It helped him think. The city was always quiet at this time of night. It seemed that Coil and Empire Eighty Eight were waiting to see who made the first move towards the remnants of the ABB, as no loud gunfights caught his attention. He did see what looked like a drug deal, some speedboats being unloaded with suspicious packages, with a few recognizable members of the ABB taking them in. He supposed that even in the absence of their leader, business would go on. Fear gripped him at that thought. The ABB knew where he lived, they knew where his family was, and they had seen him help take in their leader. They were probably planning retribution right now. He had to do something. He had to-

"Clark!" Tevye's voice cut through the spiraling thoughts that had occupied his mind. "Clark… Look down."

Clark obeyed. He saw the knife he had been using on the green onions. He saw that he had forced it down over his fingers. Gingerly, he lifted it up. The blade had been bent in an unnatural manner - the metal twisted over where his fingers had been, a perfect outline of their shape. Four little humps. He looked at his unharmed hand, and remembered. How the flames from Grand Scorpion had not hurt. How he could not recall a single injury since he had woken up at Tevye's.

He clenched his hand.

"I think you might have more than your senses, yes?" Tevye said.

"I think I have work to do. Thank you, Tevye. For everything." Clark set down the knife, and marched towards the door. Before sunrise, the remnants of the ABB would know that his family still had protection.

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Chapter 1439 - 22