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Summary
The drought-ravaged fields of rural Kansas sprawled before him; dusty and beige. It felt like all Jason could see for miles was corn, and it made him uncharacteristically claustrophobic. Okay, maybe the heat was getting to him a little under his fully-enclosed helmet, because he could have sworn he saw the corn to his left rustle. Suddenly, he was slamming on the brakes, before his mind could really register what was happening. He swerved, trying to avoid the figure that had appeared in front of him.
The frame of the bike bounced off the man's shins like a football, and by then Jason was already standing upright to face him. He kind of wished he hadn't. Even with ten feet and his smouldering bike between them he could tell the other man – if you could call him that – had a least a foot on him.
And there he was. His red boots and blue tights didn't even have a scuff on them from the collision, and he folded his arms lazily across his enormous chest.
“If you have business in Smallville you have business with me.”**
A story about an unlikely friendship between Superman and The Red Hood, and the implications that has on the trajectory of their lives.