Happy Man of Steel Monday to those who celebrate.
Lord Wraith
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Bio
Reluctantly retired roleplayer.
Except when I'm not.
Why are you here when you should be writing posts?
You can edit a bad draft, but you cannot edit a blank page.
Except when I'm not.
Why are you here when you should be writing posts?
You can edit a bad draft, but you cannot edit a blank page.
Most Recent Posts
Clark walked along the side of Main Street, the only road, leaving Smallville towards Miller’s Field, hands shoved into his pockets, an old MP3 player clutched in his right hand, while headphones that had definitely seen better days sat under his hood on top of his thick head of hair.
The steady thump of the backbeat kept Clark nodding along with the music. A smile crossed his face as his empty hand withdrew from the pocket of his denim jacket, running a thumb over his lips where Lana Lang had kissed him not even half an hour earlier.
Finding himself suddenly swept up in the music, Clark began to dance as he continued along the roughly paved road. Jumping into the air, he felt lighter tonight, clicking his heels together before gently landing on solid ground again. If he didn’t know any better, Clark would have sworn he could fly.
Stopping along the Loeb Bridge, Clark leaned against the railing, watching the Elbow River lazily flow beneath, reflecting the light of the stars above. Stars that shone almost as brightly as Lana’s eyes. He could still see her coy smile just before she kissed him. The taste of her cherry lip gloss and the smell of her cupcake-scented perfume sent his head spinning again.
The next track on his MP3 player rang out, echoing Clark’s own thoughts as a dumb smile was plastered across his face. Turning the volume up, he stretched his arms out, spinning around while dancing, only to suddenly find himself staring into a pair of headlights.
Frozen in that moment, Clark couldn’t think as the car was suddenly on top of him. The screeching of tires and twisting of metal drowned out the music. Headphones were ripped from his ears as the full weight of the American-made sedan collided with his chest. Metal and concrete broke against Clark’s back, the ground going out from under him, before suddenly the night air was replaced by the freezing waters of the Elbow River.
Pulled along by the current, Clark narrowly missed having the black Towncar land on top of him while he frantically checked himself for any sign of injury. Surfacing, he gasped for air but, beyond shock, couldn’t find any injury on himself.
“What the h-” Clark muttered to himself before his eyes darted back to the ruined bridge and the glowing taillights beneath the surface.
The driver!
Stripping off the heavy denim jacket, Clark dove back beneath the surface. His mind was racing as he tried to figure out why he was still alive. His parents had always been protective, but Clark had been sickly when he was younger. In his adolescence, that had gone away, and he was the picture of health.
Taking hold of the windshield, Clark pried it from the car with ease. Pulling the unconscious man from the front seat before noticing another passenger in the car. Pushing himself, he delivered the driver to shore before plunging back in.
His lungs should have been burning by now. But Clark barely felt winded. He chalked it up to adrenaline before the roof of the car in his hands suddenly peeled back like the top of a can of beans. Clark barely had time to register what he had done before he pulled the man from the wreckage.
Dressed in a suit finer than anything Clark had seen in Smallville. The man had a magnificent mane of hair that spilled over his shoulders. Pulling him ashore, Clark felt the hands of another begin to help as the first man had regained consciousness.
“Sir!” He yelled, “Mr. Luthor, Sir!” He yelled again before pushing Clark aside and beginning to try to resuscitate the man who must have been his boss. Flashes of red and blue refracted from the bridge above as the Sheriff’s department made its way on the scene.
A cough brought Clark’s attention back to the man he had pulled from the water. The older man spat out a mouthful of water before the driver helped him to sit up.
“Is-” Clark started, his eyes wide as the situation all began to sink in. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Young man,” The driver replied, “He is, thanks to you.” He said with a relieved smile.
“Not every day a teenager saves one of the most powerful men in the world.”
A tug on the driver’s sleeve directed his attention back to his employer as the man croaked a request.
“I’d like to shake the hand of the one who saved me.”
Clark stood, his legs feeling unsteady beneath him.
“Clark, Sir, Clark Kent.” Clark offered a hand as he spoke.
“Young man, I owe you a great debt of gratitude.” The man replied, taking Clark’s outstretched hand. He gave it a firm squeeze before placing his other hand over top of Clark’s.
“My name is Lionel, Lionel Luthor.”
♫ Sometimes we never get started
No one will give you a wake-up call
Sometimes the hours are wasted
No one will give you a wake-up call ♫
No one will give you a wake-up call
Sometimes the hours are wasted
No one will give you a wake-up call ♫
The steady thump of the backbeat kept Clark nodding along with the music. A smile crossed his face as his empty hand withdrew from the pocket of his denim jacket, running a thumb over his lips where Lana Lang had kissed him not even half an hour earlier.
Finding himself suddenly swept up in the music, Clark began to dance as he continued along the roughly paved road. Jumping into the air, he felt lighter tonight, clicking his heels together before gently landing on solid ground again. If he didn’t know any better, Clark would have sworn he could fly.
Stopping along the Loeb Bridge, Clark leaned against the railing, watching the Elbow River lazily flow beneath, reflecting the light of the stars above. Stars that shone almost as brightly as Lana’s eyes. He could still see her coy smile just before she kissed him. The taste of her cherry lip gloss and the smell of her cupcake-scented perfume sent his head spinning again.
♫ Candy, she's sweet like candy in my veins
Baby, I'm dying for another taste ♫
Baby, I'm dying for another taste ♫
The next track on his MP3 player rang out, echoing Clark’s own thoughts as a dumb smile was plastered across his face. Turning the volume up, he stretched his arms out, spinning around while dancing, only to suddenly find himself staring into a pair of headlights.
Frozen in that moment, Clark couldn’t think as the car was suddenly on top of him. The screeching of tires and twisting of metal drowned out the music. Headphones were ripped from his ears as the full weight of the American-made sedan collided with his chest. Metal and concrete broke against Clark’s back, the ground going out from under him, before suddenly the night air was replaced by the freezing waters of the Elbow River.
Pulled along by the current, Clark narrowly missed having the black Towncar land on top of him while he frantically checked himself for any sign of injury. Surfacing, he gasped for air but, beyond shock, couldn’t find any injury on himself.
“What the h-” Clark muttered to himself before his eyes darted back to the ruined bridge and the glowing taillights beneath the surface.
The driver!
Stripping off the heavy denim jacket, Clark dove back beneath the surface. His mind was racing as he tried to figure out why he was still alive. His parents had always been protective, but Clark had been sickly when he was younger. In his adolescence, that had gone away, and he was the picture of health.
Taking hold of the windshield, Clark pried it from the car with ease. Pulling the unconscious man from the front seat before noticing another passenger in the car. Pushing himself, he delivered the driver to shore before plunging back in.
His lungs should have been burning by now. But Clark barely felt winded. He chalked it up to adrenaline before the roof of the car in his hands suddenly peeled back like the top of a can of beans. Clark barely had time to register what he had done before he pulled the man from the wreckage.
Dressed in a suit finer than anything Clark had seen in Smallville. The man had a magnificent mane of hair that spilled over his shoulders. Pulling him ashore, Clark felt the hands of another begin to help as the first man had regained consciousness.
“Sir!” He yelled, “Mr. Luthor, Sir!” He yelled again before pushing Clark aside and beginning to try to resuscitate the man who must have been his boss. Flashes of red and blue refracted from the bridge above as the Sheriff’s department made its way on the scene.
A cough brought Clark’s attention back to the man he had pulled from the water. The older man spat out a mouthful of water before the driver helped him to sit up.
“Is-” Clark started, his eyes wide as the situation all began to sink in. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Young man,” The driver replied, “He is, thanks to you.” He said with a relieved smile.
“Not every day a teenager saves one of the most powerful men in the world.”
A tug on the driver’s sleeve directed his attention back to his employer as the man croaked a request.
“I’d like to shake the hand of the one who saved me.”
Clark stood, his legs feeling unsteady beneath him.
“Clark, Sir, Clark Kent.” Clark offered a hand as he spoke.
“Young man, I owe you a great debt of gratitude.” The man replied, taking Clark’s outstretched hand. He gave it a firm squeeze before placing his other hand over top of Clark’s.
“My name is Lionel, Lionel Luthor.”
“Clark!”
Lex called out jovially as Clark entered the den of the younger Luthor’s home. He embraced Clark with a quick hug before holding up a glass.
“Can I offer you a drink? I don’t think I’ve seen you since the wedding, and I must admit that night was a blur.”
“A fifty-year-old Scotch will do that,” Clark replied with a smirk of his own.
“Ah, yes, well, if a man intends to only get married once, he should make it a night to remember.” The bald man replied with a genuine grin.
“I’m pretty sure you spent more on that bottle of Scotch than I’ll make in a year at the Planet.” Clark retorted dryly.
It was Lex’s turn to smirk.
“You didn’t exactly pick a lucrative career. My father would have happily helped you gain admission to any school of your choice. But as I recall, you turned him down.” Lex replied, holding up the class again as Clark politely declined.
“Sorry, I’m on the clock,” He answered, shaking his head.
“Ah, so this social call is actually a work call,” Lex stated coolly.
“I like to think of a social call within work hours,” Clark retorted, “Did you see the news regarding the metahuman attack at the bank in Midtown?”
“Hard to keep track of during the record crime wave Metropolis is currently experiencing, but I believe I did,” Lex said dismissively, pouring himself another drink.
“Luthorcorp has contacts with facilities that could help these people, don’t they?”
“Clark, you are aware my wife was the responding agent on that scene today.” Lex countered, “Well, I’m sure your intentions are good, but I don’t have much of a desire to live in a house divided by overstepping my wife’s jurisdiction.” Lex rubbed the top of his head, stopping at the base of his skull before massaging his neck.
“Lex, these people don’t deserve to be locked up, they need someone to help them find a place in this world where they can use their abilities for good.”
“Like Superman?” The other man countered.
Clark paused for a second.
“No-”
“See, Clark, that’s the problem. The media has turned Superman into some kind of an idol to be worshiped, and for what? For breaking the law. Last I checked, vigilantism was still illegal in America. But no one stops Superman, so why wouldn’t every other meta or mutant think they couldn’t take advantage of their powers too?” Lex argued, his voice firm, leaving little room for argument.
But Clark wasn’t about to back down.
“Lex, I don’t think that’s a fair comparison. They’re not looking to be treated differently. Most metas are an average everyman. Just someone looking for a place to belong. The majority of whom would sooner give up their abilities if it meant a normal life.”
“And what would you have Luthorcorp do?”
“This,” Clark replied, handing Lex a folder from within the satchel slung over his shoulder.
“I found this through the Planet’s archives. ‘Project Everyone’, a Luthorcorp incentive program that would give a purpose to metahumans, a fulfilling life where they could use their abilities to make a difference in exchange for a stable life.”
Lex took the folder, slowly flipping through the documents inside. His face looked as though he had seen a ghost.
“This was one of my mother’s ideas,” Lex explained. His tone softened.
“I know,” Clark replied with a small smile.
“That’s a low blow, Clark.”
“I know,” Clark repeated with a wider smile. “But it’s something to think about. I did some further digging, and I think you might be able to broker a deal with Frost-”
“Mr. Luthor!”
The two men turned to where the third had entered the den.
“It’s your wife, Sir, she’s just been admitted to Metropolis General.”
Lex called out jovially as Clark entered the den of the younger Luthor’s home. He embraced Clark with a quick hug before holding up a glass.
“Can I offer you a drink? I don’t think I’ve seen you since the wedding, and I must admit that night was a blur.”
“A fifty-year-old Scotch will do that,” Clark replied with a smirk of his own.
“Ah, yes, well, if a man intends to only get married once, he should make it a night to remember.” The bald man replied with a genuine grin.
“I’m pretty sure you spent more on that bottle of Scotch than I’ll make in a year at the Planet.” Clark retorted dryly.
It was Lex’s turn to smirk.
“You didn’t exactly pick a lucrative career. My father would have happily helped you gain admission to any school of your choice. But as I recall, you turned him down.” Lex replied, holding up the class again as Clark politely declined.
“Sorry, I’m on the clock,” He answered, shaking his head.
“Ah, so this social call is actually a work call,” Lex stated coolly.
“I like to think of a social call within work hours,” Clark retorted, “Did you see the news regarding the metahuman attack at the bank in Midtown?”
“Hard to keep track of during the record crime wave Metropolis is currently experiencing, but I believe I did,” Lex said dismissively, pouring himself another drink.
“Luthorcorp has contacts with facilities that could help these people, don’t they?”
“Clark, you are aware my wife was the responding agent on that scene today.” Lex countered, “Well, I’m sure your intentions are good, but I don’t have much of a desire to live in a house divided by overstepping my wife’s jurisdiction.” Lex rubbed the top of his head, stopping at the base of his skull before massaging his neck.
“Lex, these people don’t deserve to be locked up, they need someone to help them find a place in this world where they can use their abilities for good.”
“Like Superman?” The other man countered.
Clark paused for a second.
“No-”
“See, Clark, that’s the problem. The media has turned Superman into some kind of an idol to be worshiped, and for what? For breaking the law. Last I checked, vigilantism was still illegal in America. But no one stops Superman, so why wouldn’t every other meta or mutant think they couldn’t take advantage of their powers too?” Lex argued, his voice firm, leaving little room for argument.
But Clark wasn’t about to back down.
“Lex, I don’t think that’s a fair comparison. They’re not looking to be treated differently. Most metas are an average everyman. Just someone looking for a place to belong. The majority of whom would sooner give up their abilities if it meant a normal life.”
“And what would you have Luthorcorp do?”
“This,” Clark replied, handing Lex a folder from within the satchel slung over his shoulder.
“I found this through the Planet’s archives. ‘Project Everyone’, a Luthorcorp incentive program that would give a purpose to metahumans, a fulfilling life where they could use their abilities to make a difference in exchange for a stable life.”
Lex took the folder, slowly flipping through the documents inside. His face looked as though he had seen a ghost.
“This was one of my mother’s ideas,” Lex explained. His tone softened.
“I know,” Clark replied with a small smile.
“That’s a low blow, Clark.”
“I know,” Clark repeated with a wider smile. “But it’s something to think about. I did some further digging, and I think you might be able to broker a deal with Frost-”
“Mr. Luthor!”
The two men turned to where the third had entered the den.
“It’s your wife, Sir, she’s just been admitted to Metropolis General.”
I'd like to cast one vote for 'Fashionably Late'.
The other anonymous votes are from other interested parties and not alternative accounts.
The other anonymous votes are from other interested parties and not alternative accounts.
All Posting Requirements are hereby suspended until January 5th in honour of the holiday season.
Happy Man of Tomorrow Thursday to those who celebrate.
“How’s my favourite sister doing?”
Alexandra Luthor rolled her eyes at the voice on the other side of the phone, a playful smile forming on her lips before she shifted her body away from the transport driver.
“I’m your only sister, Carol.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not my favourite.” Carol teased, eliciting a slight upturn at the corner of Lexa’s mouth.
“What’s the trick to marrying rich, Sis?”
Lexa scoffed at the question.
“You say that like I’m sitting around a mansion drinking Domaine de la Romanée-Conti all day while lying lazily by the pool.”
“I don’t know why you’re not.” Came the reply of disbelief through the phone.
“The same reason you’re off risking your life flying whatever death trap S.W.O.R.D. has you strapped in.”
“Oooh, daddy issues.”
“Carol!”
“You know it as much as I do, Dad was navy brass, and if your name wasn’t Stephen or Joe Jr., he didn’t have time for you. Why else do you think I joined the Air Force and you signed up with S.W.O.R.D.? Hell, I bet you even push ol’Richie Rich around.”
“I do not push my husband around; I challenge him to be a better man.”
“Spoken exactly like Joseph Danvers Sr.” Carol retorted, her playful laugh stung against Lexa’s cheek. Her baby sister had always been the more rebellious of the four of them. Joey was the rule follower, their parents' firstborn, then came Alexandra, who was expected to act every bit the lady her mother was. Stephen was the third born and the apple of his father’s eye, while Carol was the baby.
She used to be a sweet baby, too, before she became the strong-willed brat on the other end of the line. Little baby ‘Cara’, cute as a button, as destructive as a big red one.
“Is there a reason for this phone call?” Lexa replied unamused.
“Do I need a reason to call my big sis? Maybe I just missed you, bitch.”
Suddenly, the vehicle dropped, lurching forward one more time before the sound of spinning tires and splattering liquid asphalt echoed from around the cab.
“Carol, I’ll call you back.” Lexa snapped, clicking the phone off before turning to the agent driving.
“I thought you put the power dampeners on her.”
“I did, this ain’t her.”
“Then who-”
Lexa was cut off as flames erupted across the windshield. The temperature of the cabin began to rise rapidly, and the vehicle was unable to free itself from the tar-like trap in which it was lodged. Reaching for the door, Lexa’s hand recoiled almost immediately, the handle nearly leaving a second-degree burn on the palm of her hand. She spun around, raising her heels towards the door and landing a strike before the other agent pulled her away.
“Are you crazy? You’ll create a vacuum.”
“I’d rather risk that than die broiled.” Lexa retorted, shaking her coworker off before preparing another strike. Her head was pounding, eyes growing heavier with each second. She felt her legs lash out weakly. Trying once, twice, thrice before finding herself struggling to breathe, gasping for breath before her eyelids closed.
And darkness took over.
Alexandra Luthor rolled her eyes at the voice on the other side of the phone, a playful smile forming on her lips before she shifted her body away from the transport driver.
“I’m your only sister, Carol.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not my favourite.” Carol teased, eliciting a slight upturn at the corner of Lexa’s mouth.
“What’s the trick to marrying rich, Sis?”
Lexa scoffed at the question.
“You say that like I’m sitting around a mansion drinking Domaine de la Romanée-Conti all day while lying lazily by the pool.”
“I don’t know why you’re not.” Came the reply of disbelief through the phone.
“The same reason you’re off risking your life flying whatever death trap S.W.O.R.D. has you strapped in.”
“Oooh, daddy issues.”
“Carol!”
“You know it as much as I do, Dad was navy brass, and if your name wasn’t Stephen or Joe Jr., he didn’t have time for you. Why else do you think I joined the Air Force and you signed up with S.W.O.R.D.? Hell, I bet you even push ol’Richie Rich around.”
“I do not push my husband around; I challenge him to be a better man.”
“Spoken exactly like Joseph Danvers Sr.” Carol retorted, her playful laugh stung against Lexa’s cheek. Her baby sister had always been the more rebellious of the four of them. Joey was the rule follower, their parents' firstborn, then came Alexandra, who was expected to act every bit the lady her mother was. Stephen was the third born and the apple of his father’s eye, while Carol was the baby.
She used to be a sweet baby, too, before she became the strong-willed brat on the other end of the line. Little baby ‘Cara’, cute as a button, as destructive as a big red one.
“Is there a reason for this phone call?” Lexa replied unamused.
“Do I need a reason to call my big sis? Maybe I just missed you, bitch.”
Suddenly, the vehicle dropped, lurching forward one more time before the sound of spinning tires and splattering liquid asphalt echoed from around the cab.
“Carol, I’ll call you back.” Lexa snapped, clicking the phone off before turning to the agent driving.
“I thought you put the power dampeners on her.”
“I did, this ain’t her.”
“Then who-”
Lexa was cut off as flames erupted across the windshield. The temperature of the cabin began to rise rapidly, and the vehicle was unable to free itself from the tar-like trap in which it was lodged. Reaching for the door, Lexa’s hand recoiled almost immediately, the handle nearly leaving a second-degree burn on the palm of her hand. She spun around, raising her heels towards the door and landing a strike before the other agent pulled her away.
“Are you crazy? You’ll create a vacuum.”
“I’d rather risk that than die broiled.” Lexa retorted, shaking her coworker off before preparing another strike. Her head was pounding, eyes growing heavier with each second. She felt her legs lash out weakly. Trying once, twice, thrice before finding herself struggling to breathe, gasping for breath before her eyelids closed.
And darkness took over.
High above the clouds over Metropolis, Clark soared free from the prying eyes of the media, otherwise known as his coworkers. While the woman had acted aggressively, Clark knew it was out of desperation, not malice. He had seen that behaviour before on his own travels. It was like she had been an animal backed into a corner with no way out but to fight.
But attacking a bank during the middle of the day was a risky move, even for someone desperate. Clark wished he had done more to help her, but with the volatile nature of the fire, the lives of those around the bank came first. He did what he had done to minimize damage across the board.
But by doing so, had he further endangered a desperate woman?
It wasn’t that Clark was looking to have Superman run afoul of the Department of Extranormal Operations, let alone A.R.G.U.S. But there were better ways to help metahumans and mutants. People and organizations that actually cared about their well-being.
If Clark hadn’t been so quick to turn the woman over to the police, he could have found her a place that would have put a roof over her head or a meal in front of her. He thought back to their encounter, recalling the room and the woman.
She had been engulfed in the flames, but through the flames, his keen eyes still could make out details. Bruises on the skin, a needle mark at the base of her neck. Her clothing had been torn and tattered, something Clark had initially dismissed as a choice, but in hindsight, perhaps she had escaped from somewhere.
They hadn’t fought in the main vault. No, Clark had discovered the woman in the safe deposit boxes. She had a box in her hand before the fight had started. He focused the image in his mind, attempting to extrapolate the details.
Safe deposit boxes didn’t have names assigned to them. They were numbered. Even if Clark could make out the number, it would take further investigation still to figure out who that box belonged to.
And that was assuming it wasn’t a random box.
9842
That was the number.
“Clark?”
A voice at the door of his apartment called, following a series of three quick knuckle knocks. Clark had barely realized he had made it back to his apartment. His eyes shot wide as he looked around, realizing he had fumbled his way in through the fire escape. Deactivating the suit, he scrambled to his closet for a change of clothes.
“Hey, if you’re in there, handsome, I just wanted to say thanks for the banana bread,” The voice continued before Clark hastily finished dressing and opened the door.
Standing in the hallway of the decrepit apartment building was his neighbour from across the hall. The flickering light of the dying fluorescent bulbs highlighted every shade of red in her hastily tied-up bun, from auburn to copper to strawberry blonde. Even in the dead of winter, she was still wearing a cropped sweater and low-rise jeans that showed off both a toned abdomen and the matching pair of stars tattooed atop either hip.
“Oh, hey, Kansas,” The redheaded woman said with a smirk, “I didn’t mean to interrupt, and you didn’t have to get dressed on account of me.” She added with a playful wink.
“Lisa, sorry, I was just about to head out.”
“With your tie uneven and your shirt half buttoned?” Lisa smirked, “C’mon, beefcake, where is she?” The redhead teased, standing up on her tiptoes, trying to look over the taller man’s shoulder.
“Or he,” Lisa added, playfully, “I don’t judge.”
Moving her hands to Clark’s collar, Lisa quickly straightened it out before beginning to fix the buttons on his shirt and adjusting his tie.
“I can-”
“Shush, Kansas, I got this. A feminine touch goes a long way.” Her hands paused on his abdomen. A smile crossed her freshly glossed lips.
“You really ought to wear something more fitted. These feel like abs of steel.”
“I uh, don’t, uh” Clark stammered, gently pulling her hands away, “Thank you?”
“No, thank you,” Lisa replied, her eyes quickly darting down and back up again as she playfully saluted Clark, “At ease, soldier.”
She batted her eyelashes, ocean blue eyes with just a hint of green outlined in a smoky shadow, looking up towards Clark while she continued to speak.
“Anyways, yeah, just wanted to thank you for the banana bread, it made a great pick me up in the middle of the night. I don’t think I would have made it through last night’s shift without it.” She smirked, a finger tracing Clark’s chest again.
“You should visit me at work sometime, I think you’d really enjoy it.”
“I appreciate the offer, Lisa, but y’know, the news, it just doesn’t write itself,” Clark replied, looking at his watch again. “Speaking of which, I’ve, uh, got to go.”
“You can play coy all you want, Clark Kent, but I know you’re dying to have dinner with a ravishing redhead.” Lisa stated, “Look, there’s a showing of one of my favourite movies at the old filmhouse down in Layfatte this Friday, I was thinking you could be my arm candy?”
“I, uh-”
“Great, pick me up at seven and feel free to wear something with deep pockets.” Lisa winked, “It’ll be worth it.”
Clark nodded, inwardly shaking his head before pulling out his cellphone.
“Hello?” The voice on the other end answered.
“Lex, it’s Clark. Could I drop by?”
“Of course, it’s been too long. I always have time for a friend.”
But attacking a bank during the middle of the day was a risky move, even for someone desperate. Clark wished he had done more to help her, but with the volatile nature of the fire, the lives of those around the bank came first. He did what he had done to minimize damage across the board.
But by doing so, had he further endangered a desperate woman?
It wasn’t that Clark was looking to have Superman run afoul of the Department of Extranormal Operations, let alone A.R.G.U.S. But there were better ways to help metahumans and mutants. People and organizations that actually cared about their well-being.
If Clark hadn’t been so quick to turn the woman over to the police, he could have found her a place that would have put a roof over her head or a meal in front of her. He thought back to their encounter, recalling the room and the woman.
She had been engulfed in the flames, but through the flames, his keen eyes still could make out details. Bruises on the skin, a needle mark at the base of her neck. Her clothing had been torn and tattered, something Clark had initially dismissed as a choice, but in hindsight, perhaps she had escaped from somewhere.
They hadn’t fought in the main vault. No, Clark had discovered the woman in the safe deposit boxes. She had a box in her hand before the fight had started. He focused the image in his mind, attempting to extrapolate the details.
Safe deposit boxes didn’t have names assigned to them. They were numbered. Even if Clark could make out the number, it would take further investigation still to figure out who that box belonged to.
And that was assuming it wasn’t a random box.
9842
That was the number.
“Clark?”
A voice at the door of his apartment called, following a series of three quick knuckle knocks. Clark had barely realized he had made it back to his apartment. His eyes shot wide as he looked around, realizing he had fumbled his way in through the fire escape. Deactivating the suit, he scrambled to his closet for a change of clothes.
“Hey, if you’re in there, handsome, I just wanted to say thanks for the banana bread,” The voice continued before Clark hastily finished dressing and opened the door.
Standing in the hallway of the decrepit apartment building was his neighbour from across the hall. The flickering light of the dying fluorescent bulbs highlighted every shade of red in her hastily tied-up bun, from auburn to copper to strawberry blonde. Even in the dead of winter, she was still wearing a cropped sweater and low-rise jeans that showed off both a toned abdomen and the matching pair of stars tattooed atop either hip.
“Oh, hey, Kansas,” The redheaded woman said with a smirk, “I didn’t mean to interrupt, and you didn’t have to get dressed on account of me.” She added with a playful wink.
“Lisa, sorry, I was just about to head out.”
“With your tie uneven and your shirt half buttoned?” Lisa smirked, “C’mon, beefcake, where is she?” The redhead teased, standing up on her tiptoes, trying to look over the taller man’s shoulder.
“Or he,” Lisa added, playfully, “I don’t judge.”
Moving her hands to Clark’s collar, Lisa quickly straightened it out before beginning to fix the buttons on his shirt and adjusting his tie.
“I can-”
“Shush, Kansas, I got this. A feminine touch goes a long way.” Her hands paused on his abdomen. A smile crossed her freshly glossed lips.
“You really ought to wear something more fitted. These feel like abs of steel.”
“I uh, don’t, uh” Clark stammered, gently pulling her hands away, “Thank you?”
“No, thank you,” Lisa replied, her eyes quickly darting down and back up again as she playfully saluted Clark, “At ease, soldier.”
She batted her eyelashes, ocean blue eyes with just a hint of green outlined in a smoky shadow, looking up towards Clark while she continued to speak.
“Anyways, yeah, just wanted to thank you for the banana bread, it made a great pick me up in the middle of the night. I don’t think I would have made it through last night’s shift without it.” She smirked, a finger tracing Clark’s chest again.
“You should visit me at work sometime, I think you’d really enjoy it.”
“I appreciate the offer, Lisa, but y’know, the news, it just doesn’t write itself,” Clark replied, looking at his watch again. “Speaking of which, I’ve, uh, got to go.”
“You can play coy all you want, Clark Kent, but I know you’re dying to have dinner with a ravishing redhead.” Lisa stated, “Look, there’s a showing of one of my favourite movies at the old filmhouse down in Layfatte this Friday, I was thinking you could be my arm candy?”
“I, uh-”
“Great, pick me up at seven and feel free to wear something with deep pockets.” Lisa winked, “It’ll be worth it.”
Clark nodded, inwardly shaking his head before pulling out his cellphone.
“Hello?” The voice on the other end answered.
“Lex, it’s Clark. Could I drop by?”
“Of course, it’s been too long. I always have time for a friend.”
<Snipped quote by Captain Uni>
Oh.
It is actually a place in Marvel comics. I thought it was invented for this.
Hmm okay. That isn't too new to what I know. I might be able to come up with a good idea for a storyline for Silk.
If I could be frank, I'd love to see you do something different from Silk. I feel like I've seen you do Silk in the last couple of iterations of this style of RP.
That said, if your heart is set on Silk, I won't stop you from pursuing her.
Darn, we fell for your ploy!
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Don't worry, we still hold ultimate judgement.
<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>
But without the theme park.
I thought the theme park was what we were calling your dick.
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