Oleg watched Chloe get wheeled away. He could not do anything for her. He trembled, and his lower lip shook as the urge to cry went over him, but he refused to let the tears come. He refused to be that weak. The twin urge to scour Smallville off the face of the Earth arose in him from a deep, dark place that he assumed everyone had. It came from that part of him that possessed not an iota of human compassion and was, perhaps, the truth of what he was, something buried so deep and so denied that even Oleg himself did not count it as a part of who and what he was. It was the Kryptonian part of him, calling for blood and vengeance and to make everyone who wronged before him<em>kneel</em>.<br/><br/>He let out a breath.<br/><br/>He felt so drained.<br/><br/>Oleg walked to one of the chairs in the waiting area and collapsed into it, his bulk sprawling out carelessly. He raised one hand to cover his face as he thought about what he would tell the police. Telling them about a random phone call seemed out of the question, and he felt so stupid for crushing his phone in the heat of the moment. Someone could have tried to track the call, maybe, if only that stupid piece of plastic and circuits was still intact. Telling them about that woman and the meteor rock seemed out, as well.