7 Manhunters or The Tragic Man

Location: Styrling City

Planet: Korhal IV

Year:2524

Place: Middle-class Apartments

---- Two days later--- Consequences

"Clark, son. *sniff, sniff* Where are you? Urghhhhh ahh! God please, where's my son!? Who took him! Who took my BABY BOY!" Yelled a red-haired, middle-aged woman. Her cries echoed throughout the low-lit apartment. Attracting the attention of a slightly overweight blond-haired male.

The man; Jonathan Kent, looked long and hard at his wife, who spent over a week crying over her missing boy. "Lois, you need to stop crying and--." Before Jonathan could finish, his wife.

Lois stood up yelling "DON'T YOU DARE! You lost m-m-my baby boy! God...why...why Clark!? Why didn't I divorce you! Mom was right. Y-y-y-your a loser would--WHO DID COST ME, MY SON!" Yelled Lois stepping forward, she slapped Jonathan over and over...and over.

He stood there, saying nothing, all the while taking deep breaths, in an attempt to control his growing anger. Lois punched him across the face. Jonathan staggered, crashing into a wooden bookcase. "Your love for history is the reason we've lost my son!" Yelled Lois, inches from his face.

"OUR SON!" Yelled Jonathan standing in defiance. "And I didn't lose him! They stole him! I know it! The Confederacy stole our boy!"

Lois rolled her eyes, scoffing at his words. "You're unbelievable. Still making excuses--your presence makes me sick. And for your information...THE POLICE HAVE ALREADY CONFIRMED IT WASN'T A KIDNAPPING! So stop! With the theories, you crazed fuck. No wonder the university fired you, you're disgusting."

*WAP!* Jonathan slammed Lois, sending her to the floor. "It's not a theory bitch, children across Confederate space are going missing by the thousands. Parental death rates are slowly increasing, and so is reproduction. The government adoption police are at an all-time high, and so are the Umojans...Even the Kal-Morians have joined in.

See Lois, while you cried like a bitch all week. I've been investigating! Contacting people with missing kids, like us. And there are way too many similarities, for this to be a coincidence. Oh, and by the way. I signed the divorce papers, you keep the apartment. I'm getting Clark."

Lois's eyes widened, watching Jonathan walk towards the open door. "You're talking like a rebel. Don't tell me...you're joining...those...those…those people? If so, I hope you die a painful death."

"I am." Said Jonathan. As he stepped outside a small crowd gathered, recording everything while making sure to zoom in on Lois's tear-stained, slightly bruised face.

She slammed the door, smiling from all that developed. "So, did you get what you need?" Asked Lois in a low voice. She smiled ear to ear, watching four well-armed soldiers decloak with unknown assault rifles in hand.

Their faces, hidden behind dark grey helmets, with three bright lime green circular lenses. The first a massive lens that encompassed their right eyes, the second smaller more focused lens, attached to its bottom left was a bigger, highly adjustable lens.

#An: think about it as an older model of the cover pic#

"I d-d-did everything you asked, I insulted my husband, his dream, his passion, his job. I even demanded a divorce and got him to confirm his meeting with the rebels as instructed. So please, let me see my boy. Let me have Clark back? Please, I won't say anything." Said Lois, hitting the floor with tear-stained eyes, before grabbing onto an agent's legplate.

The agents stood there, ignoring her pleas while they looked between each other and awaited further orders. With her ear pressed against the armor, Lois began to hear a low and almost silent hum before the agents...disappeared.

At the same time, Jonathan. Having finally made his way street-level dawned a prideful yet determined face as he thought about joining the Korhal rebellion. 'Korhal, the Jem of the Confederacy. Its seas team with life thought to have never existed, its forest and wealth only rivaled by Umoja and surpassed by Char. The Confederates take and take, damaging the seas and killing the forest. But we'll save you, and I'll get Clar--'

*CRASH!* "OH MY GOD! THAT WOMAN JUMPED TO HER DEATH!"

Laying inches from Jonathan's feet were the spattered remains of Lois, her blood dyed his clothing. Those around him in terror. While his hands, eyes, arms, and legs shook like jello. His pupils dilated looking upon the bits of brain matter that stained the cement.

"The Confederacy! They must be trying to frame me!" Yelled Jonathan running through the crowd and into a nearby alleyway. The locals stared at him, thinking him to be one of the many crackpot theorists who spent their days posting online.

His eyes landed upon a group of gangsters and the motorcycles they left running. Jonathan sprinted through the group grabbing onto one of the bikes then driving away. "GET THAT FUCK!" yelled on them, as two bikes drove after Jonathan.

The two men wove and weaved through traffic staying hot on Jonathan's tail. He turned back to see two barrels open out of the front of the bikes.

"They've been illegally modified!" Yelled Jonathan, weaving in and out of traffic. The men grew increasingly irritated watching Jonathan hide behind other cars and vehicles along the road.

He turned off-road driving through an alleyway and into an open garage, the two men followed suit. Grinning ear to ear as the bike came to a stop. "Oh, ho ho ho. Ya fucked up now." laughed one of the men, he drew his pistol as 25 men and women walked into sight.

"Henry, leave it. Jonathan's here to join us, and from what I can tell, he can become more than a history teacher." Said a short black male. His comment caused Henry to frown, deeply annoyed by this development. "Why were ya fleeing after the woman's death?"

"I um, I-I um--" Henry stammered looking around the room, his face fell as the faces surrounding him frowned in displeasure. He turned towards a tall black woman standing in the far back, her legs and arms briefly shimmered before coming to a stop.

The man turned to the short black male whose right arm shimmered under the room light. The rebels watched as Jonathan stammered back with widened eyes.

"Ohh look who's finally afraid." Laughed Henry's friend, the black male joined in. However, Henry frowned thinking.

`We just chased this fucker through 5 city blocks, armed with loaded guns, and he handled it well. Then 50 people surrounded him and he still handled it well… So what changed?' Thought Henry, looking around.

Like Jonathan, his eyes widened, which caught the attention of the surrounding rebels. Jonathan looked to Henry who gripped his cycle's handle and did the same, "press the small red button on the bike's console then fire with the blue buttons built into the bike's grip."

The small black male's face fell, as he glanced around the room and finally noticed what had the two men so frightened. "You lead them to us--URGAGHAHAHA!!" The room turned silent as flames engulfed the black male's body.

*De-de-de-dede-dede-dededededeeeeeeee!!!* The rebels burst into flames, their screams engulfed the block as they lit the building aflame.

Henry revved his cycle before flying out of the building at max speed, his friend and Jonathan closely behind. The three turned the corner, only to have an invisible force rip Henry's friend off his bike.

*WARNING! WARNING! THIS IS A CIVILIAN WARNING! JONATHAN KENT AGE 35, AND HENRY SMITH AGE 33. ARE WANTED IN RELATION TO THE DEATH OF 54 PEOPLE! AND CLIMBING! INCLUDING THE SUICIDE OF HIS WIFE! A 20'000 CREDIT REWARD HAS BEEN PUT OUT FOR ANY INFORMATION WHICH LEADS TO HIS ARREST! AND A 60'000 FOR HIS CAPTURE!*

"THAT'S A LIE!" Yelled Jonathan, watching his face display upon every poster, monitor, and 3d-display hub within sight.

"Focus!" Yelled Henry weaving in and out of traffic. "We need to warn the movement about everything that's happened."

Henry pulled into an alleyway with haste, ditching his bike along the side of the road he ran towards an old open sewer hatch. "I'll be leading those men away, you're going to hide in that garbage filled with burnt meats. If any of us survives, we tell the Korhal rebels. Agreed?"

"Agreed and take care, Henry."

With that, the two men split apart.

Henry ran through the sewer doing his best to stay one foot ahead of the agents, who followed him into the next hideout...his last words. "Lord Mengsk, they're like ghosts."

Jonathan hid like a rat, hoping to all gods the burnt meats would hide his bodily signature. And they did for a time. But eventually, he was found by a cook who'd beat his head in with a piece of burnt beetle stake.

The woman would later be shot, her child dragged into the Confederate's program. They'd paint her across the stars as a hero who stopped the monster that was Jonathan Kent and avenged the beautiful maiden Lois along with all those he'd burned that day.

An: When you think about the ghosts just look back to the story's cover art.