(Clark wanders through an ancient Kryptonian scouting ship; Jor-El hologram appears)
Jor-El: Hey! I shot you into space when you were a baby!
Jor-El: That’s me! Okay, let me give you the lowdown. Your name is Kal-El, you’re a Kryptonian, our planet Krypton blew up, and all the Kryptonians are dead except you and our most dangerous criminal, Zod.
Clark: That’s unfortunate.
Jor-El: Also I kind of hid all of Krypton’s genetic code inside you so that you are the key to restarting the Kryptonian race and Zod’s kinda going to be looking for that.
Clark: Um, do you want me to restart the Kryptonian race?
Jor-El: I'm honestly not sure.
Clark: Then why did you stick the Codex in me?
Jor-El: In retrospect, it may have been a poor idea. On the other hand, if you do decide to start the Kryptonian race, this scout ship has a bunch of empty babies in our underwater tree pod room. All you have to do is stick the DNA right in them. There's a little hole. It's unfortunately placed, though.
Clark: Uh… I’ll pass for now.
Jor-El: Oh! I also made you a sweet costume that looks the underwear of our home planet!
Jor-El: Well, normally on Krypton we wore ornate dresses and things or elaborately overdesigned battle armor, and we wore a skintight leather suit underneath it. So that's what I made you.
Clark: Not the actual clothes? Or the battle armor?
Jor-El: Nope! Oh, and I put a cape on it too! Kryptonians often wear capes with their clothes and armor!
Clark: …but not on their underwear?
Jor-El: Oh, god no. You’d look like an idiot.
Clark: Hey. If this is a random Kryptonian spaceship from 18,000 years ago, why does it have a suit you made me with our house emblem on it inside?
(Jor-El is silent for a moment, then picks up holographic stick and jabs himself in his stomach)
Jor-El: Sorry, I’ve been stabbed! I’m dying!
Clark: You’re a hologram. You can’t die.
Jor-El: I had a really good answer, too!
Clark: I can still see you. You’re just laying down.
Clark: Fine. (leaves)
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