I decided to change this story into a non-alternate universe one with Clark still meeting Green Arrow and it starts in Smallville after Static. It doesn't affect chapter 1 though so it's just an update.
Smallville
"Come on Chloe, I seriously doubt that the guy at the guy is some freak from California. This guy acted like he knew exactly who I was and he definitely knew who that phantom was. I just find it hard to believe that some phenomenon in a different state is related to this," Clark commented into his phone, pulling up to the Talon from a not so hard day's work on the farm. After running into a bloodthirsty phantom in Seattle, even Clark needs a break from the life of the hero and just relax for a while. Unfortunately, whenever he adopts this philosophy, some international crisis occurs and pulls him into some fight again.
"Seriously Clark, there have been multiple reportings of something- propelling itself through the sky." When one sees as many phenomenons and freaks as Chloe has, it's rather difficult not to believe in a flying man. After all, she already knows of four people who have. One being a girl-turned-Kryptonian, the other being a the mad General Zod of Krypton as he took over Lex, thirdly everybody's favorite Smallville alien, and then there's the last super powered individual who easily killed a phantom to save Clark followed by a miraculous flight into the distance. "You have to admit, being a person who has flown around the world in minutes, that it is possible to go from California to Washington in not a lot time."
"Despite the possibility and your undeniable, and irrefutable logic," Clark commentated sarcastically, "it was probably just a bird or a plane or something. I take it that you've looked into all possible candidates for the ability of flight," Clark said to get it out of the way. Of course you have, you're Chloe. You practically have the power of research.
"You know me, never giving up a chance to pull an all-nighter followed by ten lattes and finally figuring it out in the nick of time for you to speed to the rescue." How true that is. I wonder why I always show up just as a person is about to be shot or thrown over an edge. I never get there when things are peaceful. Then again, it is just like fate to give me a chance to mope about what could have happened if I wasn't there. "And why should this time be any different; I found reports of a kid who was hit a bird with his car one and a half miles from Crater Lake and a man who has spent his entire life trains birds in Topeka only to be poisoned to death by one two years ago, but neither seem to be likely candidates."
"Sorry Chloe, got to go. I'm going into the Talon," Clark declared as he opened the door to the Talon. " I'll come by the Planet later and we can continue this very … interesting, conversation later."
"Okay bye. But Lois and I are going to a Shark's game tonight so it'll have to be quick."
And they didn't invite, what a surprise. Then again, I always enjoy Lois' constant insults and ranting about how much of a loser I am. "Don't worry, I get the feeling that I won't have to worry about getting there fast," he closed with as he shut his phone. Ah, the good old Talon. Owned by the two women in my life who I love more than anything. And yet again, fate pits me against Lex for something of mine that he wants. Why couldn't I have been like Lois and just say how I feel. Ugghhh, he shuddered at the thought of wanting to be more like Lois as he walked up to the counter and ordered.
After getting his drink and taking a seat near one of the poles with the Egyptian hieroglyphics, he started slugging down his coffee. Many fond memories he thought as he watched people innocently walk around the building, ignorant of the fact that there is an intergalactic traveler amongst them. Wow, nobody that I know. Must be a busy day for everybody. One of the downsides to super hearing is that it is difficult not to hear other private conversation. No matter how hard Clark tries, he cannot always turn off his ultimate eavesdropping weapon. After succumbing to his need for knowledge, he takes a quick sweep of the area for anything interesting but not personal. After transitioning through conversations about sports, coffee, homework, and a struggling relationship, he finally picked up on a heated argument between two men at the counter. "Maybe you better cool off until you get over your hangover," Clark heard wondering if it would lead to violence. The supposedly drunk man, Clark observed, is in a rugged, white t-shirt with black oil smears around the stomach and wearing tattered jeans. The other guy is in a thick, green sweatshirt and dark pants. He also looked as though he hadn't shaved or had a haircut in weeks. Neither one of them looks like they are over 25 or have life going well for them. Considering that this is Smallville, arguments are usually solved in attempt-of-murders or blackmail. "Look man, I don't like you," the other guy said, "and I think that you better leave before there's trouble." Of course Clark thought, why should this situation be any different. Preparing to intervene if the situation got any worse, Clark heard from the victim, "Look man, all I did is order a coffee and sit down, I what's your problem with me?" "That's it, I gave you a chance," the drunken one said as he stood up and grabbed the victim by the shirt.
Suddenly this argument is not just a private one and everybody, including Clark could see what was happening. Moving in on the potential fight, Clark realized that while everybody's watching, he cannot do anything even remotely super. Why couldn't they just be in an alleyway? Now I need to take it very easy on them. Unfortunately, the fight had already begun with the drunken one sucker-punching the victim with a left hook to the jaw. The impact alone brings the victim to the floor Got to stop it. The antagonist then followed with a kick to the side that, surprisingly, brought out only a huff in the green-sweatshirt-wearing man. Getting closer and closer. Wish I could superspeed now. Then the tables turn, after the man on the floor catches a follow-up kick to the gut, followed by an impossible bounce and return to his feet. Due to the high-alcohol levels, the antagonist barely registered that he did not connect with his attack until he had an iron hard knee in his gut. So much for being the victim. Just half a second more. To end the quarrel, the man in the green sweatshirt uppercut the drunken one in the base of the jaw with enough raw strength to throw the man onto the counter. By the time Clark reaches the fight, it is over, but just as quick as he became the victim, the man in the sweatshirt became the attacker. Ramming his knuckles into the drunken one's nose resulted in a minor red smear on his knuckles. Before he could bring down another blow, Clark grabs the current attacker followed up by a light throw onto the floor. After turning to check up on the status of the man bleeding on the counter, to Clark's surprise, the man on the floor is no longer there. Great. Now I have to find him, stop him, and convince him to turn himself in.
Making his way through the audience that had been created to watch the quarrel, Clark finally reaches the exit, outside, and notices a trace of a foot going around the corner. On the other side, the man on the run turns his head to make sure that he is not being observed and then looks forward once again to continue, only to see the guy in the red and blue clothes that stopped him. "Out of my way, man. You do not want to do this," he bellowed in a voice that sounded like the user usually got his way.
"Look, we can talk about this. Just stop running and the police will sort this out. You'll be fine," Clark reassures him just as he usually does. Unfortunately, this occurrence is not successful he notices as he sees the man coming at him. Here we go Clark thinks going through his game plan, let him attack, block it and pretend to be strained, toss him aside, then watch him until the police come. As expected, the sweatshirted man comes at Clark with a stance of an experienced fighter and throws a right hook, block and grab, but as Clark reaches for the man's wrist, he realizes that his own wrist has been grabbed by the man. What the… is all that Clark can think of before being grabbed by his shirt with the other hand, spun around to the man's left by 90 degrees, and hurled across the alley fifteen feet into the wall with a great impact. OK, I guess that I need to bring up my game. Realizing that this is not normal, Clark stands up, but is greeted with only an empty alleyway. By the time he gets up, Spike is half –a-mile away.
