Early childhood was blessed with the love and admiration of family and friends. Great-grandparents Jonathan and Martha, and grandparents Clark and Mary were always around from Eben’s side of the family. The Kents were steeped in religion and the Methodist Church was as much responsible for young Clark’s moral fiber as were his parents. When Clark was only three, his great-grandfather Jonathan died and great-grandma Martha would follow only six months later. Photographs and stories were the only bits of information he had of them and when Eben passed in 1994, much of the Kent family history was lost to memory. Clark took his father’s death as hard as any sixteen year old boy would. This event would later give way to a hateful relationship with the fictional character with whom he would be compared.
Sara’s side of the family was fewer in numbers and quite spread out. Clark had never met his grandparents on his mother’s side. They had died before he was born. A sepia tone wedding picture of theirs sat on the mantle in the Clark household in memoriam, but not much was ever said about them. He had an uncle somewhere in Texas but due to his drug and alcohol problem the Kents never let him come around. Clark received a Christmas card from him once, but it was quickly snatched away before the sentiment could be read. It could easily be said that Clark’s upbringing was wholly influenced by the Kent side of the family and truth be told, Sara didn’t mind.
Suggestions that the real Clark Kent was in some way linked to the fictional alter ego of Superman started at a young age. In his second grade class with Mrs. Pflaum was where Clark was first asked, “Are you Superman?” At that age, the idea was cool. He was, after all, aware of the cartoon hero, and even owned action figures and comic books bearing the Man of Steel’s likeness. He knew he had the same name as the guy wearing the glasses on the page. He knew that guy in the glasses could tear open his shirt to reveal an emblazoned “S” and fly around saving those in need. Indeed, young Clark was more than aware of the character, and even a fan of Superman, but it never seemed odd to him that he shared the hero’s moniker. He thought that somewhere in America there was a kid named Joey Namath or Richy Nixon that had it far worse than Clark Kent. Though, while sports personalities and political figures come and go, enduring scandal, a legend never dies, and neither does his name.
_
Clark’s health as a child was anything but super. He was in and out of school with various sicknesses and never really seemed to get over simple ailments like the common cold. Frail and short for his age, Clark was the butt of endless jokes.
“Superman is sick, again…” was always followed by hurtful laughter.
“Superman needs braces…” followed by again, more laughter.
“Superman needs glasses…” more of the same.
“Superman can’t eat sweets…” because of juvenile onset diabetes. Hilarious.
“Superman can’t make the football team…” the same.
“Superman is a zit-face…” again, the same ridicule.
“Superman can’t get a date to the dance…” again, and again.
“Superman is…” and on, and on, and on.
But none of these hurt as much as the heartless blow administered sophomore year by classmate Alex Roth, captain of the football and basketball teams, and all around jerk. “Hey Clark, sorry to hear about your dad. How did he die again? Was it a heart attack in the driveway or did his home planet collide with the sun?” Alex laughed which prompted uneasy chuckles from his athlete counterparts. “Oh well,” he continued, “guess it doesn’t matter. Nothing you can do about it now. Right, Superman?”
Clark’s head was spinning. As in a dream he could feel himself wanting to punch Alex as hard as he could and then continue punching until unconsciousness had set in. He could only imagine how good the crunch of bone in the bridge of Alex’s nose would feel against his knuckles. Clark wanted a blood bath. He swung with all of his strength and his fist connected with the desired crack. But it was Clark’s hand that broke; a boxer’s fracture to the third and fourth metacarpals. The minor attack only stunned Alex for a moment and the last thing Clark remembers of that day was being grabbed by the neck and thrown against the drinking fountain outside the gymnasium.
Waking up in the hospital was nothing new for Clark, but this time was different. His mind was racing. Rage swelled inside like he had never felt before but it wasn’t directed at Alex or his cronies. Clark hated himself. No, he hated his name. Upon returning from the hospital he boxed up all of his Superman comics and memorabilia and put them at the curb for the garbage man to take. He wanted rid of that stigma. He would finish his last two years of high school at home with his mother as his one and only teacher. His remaining schooling would be devoid of bullies and heroes alike.
It was when Clark met fellow journalism major Elaine Farrell that he first considered revealing his true identity to someone at school. They were assigned a project together and found they worked well together. Clark’s attraction to Elaine was instant and he decided that if he were going to win her affection there was some work to be done. He started a regimen of nutritional supplements with weight lifting and running that would add muscle to his scrawny frame at an unbelievable rate. By the time he was in his fourth year he weighed two hundred and twenty-five pounds with less than five percent body fat. Through his hard work and determination to catch Elaine’s eye Clark had become something of a physical specimen. What he didn’t know was that Elaine already liked him for his mind. Their relationship grew and an unbreakable friendship quickly turned into deep love. So the time came that Clark would tell her the truth. He did, and she laughed. Though others had laughed at his name in the past, she laughed at his self-consciousness. With Elaine he would have no need to hide anything. His past, present, and future were hers. From then on, he was back to being Clark Joseph Kent.
Elaine and Clark graduated college with honors in the spring of 2001 and both took jobs in New York City at the New World Reporter. With his first paycheck, Clark bought Elaine a modest engagement ring and proposed. The two were soon married in a small ceremony that had no groomsmen or bridesmaids. Sara Kent and Elaine’s parents were the only family present at the Uniontown United Methodist Church when they said their “I do’s.” The honeymoon was scheduled for September 12th, with the newly married couple planning to fly from New York to spend a week in South Florida at Elaine’s parents’ condo. The World Trade Center attacks on September 11th would halt any plans of travel and thrust Clark and Elaine into lives of journalism that sent them to the most dangerous parts of the globe. As a team, the newlywed Kents and their photographers James and Gregory would report on the Taliban in Saudi Arabia, Iraq, and Iran. Their work was recognized as some of the best and most reliable news to come out of the Iraq War and subsequent Gulf Wars. Constantly on the move, Clark and Elaine were not together as much as they would have liked, but when they were together they savored every moment. Their passion for journalism was dwarfed by the love they shared for each other. However, their time alone was often interrupted by work and neither of them would turn down a good lead. They were entirely dedicated to getting the story out even if it meant putting themselves in harm’s way. They frequently did so for the nineteen years leading up to the event that would forever change Clark Kent.
_
Elaine Farrel-Kent and her photographer Gregory Morgan were taken hostage by a nameless terrorist cell along with twenty-four other Americans in July of 2020. The leader of the radical organization demanded the release of prisoners being held for their involvement in other attacks. When a U.S. Army rescue mission was thwarted all twenty-six Americans were killed in a demonstration that was broadcast on the Internet for the world to see. Some were shot, some beaten to death, and still others beheaded. Their bodies were sent out into the streets and a second Army convoy managed to bring back the remains of most of the dead. The terrorists disappeared into caves and hills that hid their kind from the outside world and they went silent. Clark was in France with James watching helplessly as this horror unfolded before him on the world wide web. He turned away from the screen as the masked executioner pulled the trigger of the gun he had pressed into Elaine’s temple. He heard the clap of the gun followed by Gregory’s growling scream, until another shot silenced his protest. The image of Elaine’s face wrinkled in fear and hysterically crying would be forever seared into Clark’s memory, drowning out fairer images of smiles and peacefulness.
Three weeks later in New York, Clark, his mother Sara, Elaine’s parents and eight hundred of Elaine’s friends, co-workers, and admirers buried the twenty-five year old journalist in a cemetery forty minutes outside the city. Clark was despondent; unresponsive to even his mother’s condolences and life quickly spiraled downward and out of control.
The life insurance settlement and calamity pay from the New Rep meant he would never have to work again, so Clark just stopped showing up. He visited the grave every day and drank himself to sleep every night. He had been thrown out of four apartments and nearly overdosed on pain killers twice. Clark’s mother had nearly given up trying to save her son when she decided to reach out to his only remaining friend. It was with Sara’s pleading that James decided to step in and give one final pull to the tether that was keeping Clark from a complete free fall onto the rocky bottom. James was able to break through and Clark entered rehab. After nine months of mental, physical, prescription drug, and alcohol rehabilitation Clark emerged a clean man. It was clear to Sara and James that the hurt was not gone, but at least he was clear minded for the first time in over a year. With this, Clark refocused on finding his wife’s killers.
In March of 2022, upon James’ recommendations and his previous merits, Clark was welcomed back to the New World reporter with open, caring arms. Department managers nurtured his writing skills back to health and soon Clark and James were rising to professional heights they could not have envisioned only months before. The next three years would prove to be their most productive. Equipped with a sharp pen and a keen eye, the two won several awards for their investigative work in the Middle East as Clark wrote about his efforts to track down Elaine’s executioners and James catalogued the efforts on film. It seemed as if they were finally getting close to the answers they desired when the global stage changed in an entirely unexpected way. A nuclear holocaust was narrowly avoided in 2024 as the American, Chinese, Iranian, British, and North Korean governments agreed to a last minute “stand down.” A conflict that had begun over the rights to drill for oil on the floor of the Arctic Ocean ended with the realization that if a new peace could not be reached humankind may cease to exist on Earth.
The International Disarmament Act was signed by all members of the United Nations in 2025 and a new period of world peace began. World wide, countries willingly surrendered their weapons of mass destruction, and devices of mortal combat. Global approval of the Act were juxtaposed to Clark’s inner turmoil. The trail of Elaine’s killer had gone cold. Clark and James were forced to move on and cover the rebuilding effort in the war-ravaged Middle East.
They continued to succeed, but Clark started drinking again. He hid it well and James was the only one who knew how Clark really lived. Even his mother was under the impression that he had not slipped. Cloaked in professionalism but haunted by his wife’s image, Clark’s persona at work was entirely different than the one at home, and things were progressively getting worse.
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