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    Summary

    Clarks torso pounded with pain, pain that he had never experienced. Cuts that ripped open his suit, left gashes under his ribs and collarbone, and terrible shanks on his arms. They glowed a terrible green, shards of his only weakness. Kryptonite bullets and blades that made him sweat and pant with pain. He had faint ideas of how the bullets lodged themselves into his skin, but the key ideas had wiped from his memory.

    This was one of the most fearful times of his life. Not being able to remember anything, to control his own body. To know that you could have hurt somebody you loved. He could've killed somebody. He was a monster, a freak that couldn't control his own powers. His anger and morals were used against him.

    Clarks legs stuttered underneath him when he tried to stand. Bruce's clothes were stained with blood, so much blood. They were soaked in it, the crimson bled all the way down the shirts front. Bruce was hurt. He could barely remember anything except his panic, and his overwhelming anger. In his delirium had he hurt Bruce…?
    ....................
    pt 2 of Fear in this series.

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