"You enjoyed it." It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

"Father," Blaine shifted uncomfortably (and it wasn't because he was in the middle of the artic) as he faltered to come up with an explanation. He knew Jor-El wasn't going to be pleased with his budding romance with Kurt, but Blaine couldn't resist him. How was he supposed to explain that to the spirit of his dead biological father? "I don't know what to say. I guess I just got…carried away."

Jor-El's disembodied voice rang out clearly within the massive ice fortress. "I anticipated this, my son, I…"

"You couldn't have!" Blaine interrupted the elder Kryptonian, a rare occurrence. "You couldn't have imagined…"

"How good it felt?" Jor-El finished his son's thought. His tone was gentler than Blaine had expected, it was a precarious blend of displeasure and parental understanding.

"How good it felt…" Blaine echoed, recalling how it had felt kissing Kurt last night, a small fond smile playing on his lips. He quickly realized where he was and who was speaking with, and the swell of happiness was immediately replaced with shame.

"Do not punish yourself for your feelings of vanity, Kal-El, simply learn to control them," Jor-El began. "It is an affliction common to all, even here on Krypton. Our destruction could have been avoided but for the vanity of some who considered us indestructible. Were it not for vanity, why, at this very moment, I could embrace you in my arms, my son."

"Thank you, Father," Blaine replied, feeling his father's presence fade. He heaved a sigh and began the flight back to Metropolis. He went slower than usual since his mind was riddled in thought.

Maybe it would have been better if have Jor-El had actually reprimanded him like Blaine had predicted, because he couldn't imagine feeling any worse than this. Jor-El had basically told Blaine that feelings he was experiencing would be his downfall, these feelings had destroyed Krypton and killed his parents, that these feelings were wrong. Even though he respected his father greatly and was an obedient son, Blaine couldn't bring himself to agree with him on this matter. Because if what he felt for Kurt was wrong, Blaine didn't want to be right. How could it be wrong to want to protect someone, to shower them with your affection…he could understand how wanting to screw their brains out could be seen as reprehensible, but since when did being Superman require a vow of chastity? I don't even sleep around! I just want Kurt, he negotiated with himself, you think after everything I do—Blaine stopped himself realizing that he had just proven Jor-El's point with his egocentric thoughts. Besides, who am I really kidding? Jor-El is always right, Blaine rebuked himself. His high school and college years had proven it. Blaine knew what he needed to do. He had to scrap his plan of romancing Kurt in Blaine-mode tonight. He certainly wasn't going to stand him up, but the evening could most definitely not end like it had last night. He'd figured that he would stop by Kurt's later that week as Superman to break it off. This is going to suck, Blaine concluded as the Metropolis skyline came into view.

Blaine had a busy day ahead of him, since he was "taking the night off," Blaine was going to try to do everything he could before he picked Kurt up at eight. The afternoon passed without any major incident, and Blaine was on his way back to his apartment on the Upper West Side to get ready for his date when a high pitched piercing noise ripped through his ears. He halted mid-air and held his ears in an ineffective attempt to make the screeching stop.

This is Lex Luthor.

Blaine removed his hands from his ears at the introduction of the voice amidst the stridency.

I'm going to venture a guess and assume that you're the only living being with two legs that can hear this frequency. In approximately ten minutes, a poison gas pellet containing propane lithium compound will be released through thousands of air ducts in the city, effectively annihilating half the population of Metropolis.

Within a fraction of a second, Blaine was racing across the river, locating the source of the sound as Luthor continued his monologue.

I know it seems a bit much, but how else was I going to meet you, Superman? A disaster with people in danger, people who need help, is something I knew you just couldn't resist. Know what I mean?

The anger and disgust at Luthor's words only propelled Blaine faster to the abandoned warehouse just across the river where he had pinpointed the sound's origin. He smashed through the heavy steel doors, scanning the structure with his x-ray vision in search of where the explosives were being kept. The bomb was straight ahead, and Blaine would have to pass through three large chambers to reach it. He also noticed the various cameras mounted throughout the warehouse.

0-0-0

"Look at that overgrown Boy Scout, Santana," Dave sneered at the large screen in his home theatre. Gathered there with him apart from his trusty beard were a handful of his henchmen who eager to see the show that Dave had promised them: the obliteration of Superman. "Tell me what you see."

"Hazel eyes. Tan skin. Full lips. Strong jawline. Dimples," Santana replied with a devious smirk.

"Wait," Jacob interrupted, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. "Why did you say your name was Lex Luthor?"

Azimio smacked him over the head. "Because Lex is way more intimidating and badass than stupid old Dave, Israel. You really are dumb as shit, aren't you?'

"Look who's talking," Jacob fired back.

"Don't make me whip your bony Jewish ass!" The larger man threatened.

"Boys, now is not the time for petty arguing," Dave cut them off, his voice calm but imposing. "If you must know, Lex is my middle name, well Alexander is anyway. But enough etymology, back to the main event. Now Santana, you said you saw a strong jawline, dimples. I'll show you dimples."

Dave's audience watched in horror as several machine guns from every side of the room opened fire on Superman. Their horror transformed into shock when they observed that the bullets weren't harming Superman at all, the bits of metal were bouncing off of the man as she proceeded through the chamber, completely unscathed.

While the other spectators were in total awe, Dave simply said "I thought that might happen." The cameras' images changed to show interior of the second chamber, which Superman was now entering. "Let's see if our friend can handle the heat."

No sooner had the words left Dave's mouth when the chamber burst into a fiery inferno. Superman seemed to be enveloped in the wall of flames, and Santana couldn't help but avert her gaze from the screen. Once the blaze ceased, Dave and Company were expecting the Kryptonian to be reduced to a pile of ash.

"Holy Mother of—"

"What the fuck?"

"His suit isn't even damaged."

"Dave, I think we have a problem."

Luthor glared down at his minions, the frustration and defeat starting to boil within him. "No we don't." he gritted out. "There's still one more chamber before the gas pellet."

The cameras switched settings again to show Superman standing in the third chamber.

"Oh my God, he actually looks bored," cackled Santana.

"We'll see about that," muttered Dave.

Everyone watched intently as a deadly blizzard suddenly swirled around the space while Superman continued to stand there, unimpressed.

"The temperature in there is 80 degrees below zero Fahrenheit. Not even an eskimo could survive in that kind of cold," Dave boasted.

And for a moment, it seemed to be doing the trick. A layer of frost was forming around Superman's body, and it was thickening quickly, sealing the hero into a dense block of ice as the whiteout came to an end.

The room was silent as they stared at the screen.

"He's not moving."

"Do you think he's dead?"

"He's frozen in there like a caveman or something."

"Oh, you mean one of your brothers?"

"Hey, shut the—"

Azimio's retaliation was drowned out by a large crack that came from the screen. Each person in the room had an identical look of disbelief as they watched Superman split open the ice and advance onto the final chamber with a roll of his eyes and an exasperated sigh.

"I-I can't believe it," Jacob choked out.

Superman deftly dismantled the contraption that would have released the noxious chemical and incinerated the pieces with his vision in a matter of seconds. He turned and addressed one of the cameras.

"I beat you at your own game, Luthor." Superman's already authoritative voice became more intimidating as it echoed throughout the warehouse. "I advise you not to try for a rematch."

He sprung into the air, blasting a hole through the roof of the warehouse. The camera feed ended and the screen was filled with static.

Jacob was the first to break the stunned silence. "Wow, he really kicked your ass."

Santana glared at Jacob. "You really don't know when to shut up, do you?"

"Get out. All of you," Dave ordered.

No one had to be told twice. However, Santana lingered. The Latina waited for David's temper to explode, but the billionaire was eerily calm. She approached him warily.

"Dave, you alright? I know that didn't exactly go as planned…"

"Now we know we're up against," Dave told her simply. Santana was honestly a little frightened by his serene demeanor, especially since in the eleven years she had known him, Dave had pitched some pretty legendary fits. "This experiment today just means I'll have to stick with my original plan."

"He's…invincible," said Santana, fully aware that her words could set off her keeper's temper, but she was too concerned about Dave to care. "How are you supposed to beat someone who's invincible?"

"That's where you're wrong Santana," Dave objected. "You and I both know that Superman can't be in two places at once. We just need to find a sufficient distraction for E.T. while we execute the California operation."