For many days and nights, Clark barely said anything. The message from "Jor-El" wouldn't leave him in peace. He couldn't eat only except when he really needed to. Sleep wasn't easy for too long, it seemed like a lifetime. Time appeared to be frozen; the warm daylights and breezy evenings had no impact.
By the time it reached the third week after his discovery, he did feel a curiosity rise in him. If he had the power to endure the hottest days while out doing chores, could he also run for days without feeling exhaustion? Making fire by just looking, seeing skeletons, what else was there?
Nearly every weekend when homework was out of the way, of course, Clark would spend time out in the field with his parents trying to figure out what else there was to him. His high endurance did give him an idea that he also had extraordinary strength. The Kents figured that one out when he lifted their tractor with one hand while trying to retrieve a baseball from underneath. It felt incredibly easy as if lifting an empty kiddie stool.
When it came to the fire and the skeleton-seeing vision, that was tough to figure out. Clark tried all sorts of things to do with his eyes. He had thought the x-ray vision—as he called it—had to do with emotion, but it wasn't. It wasn't until he had made a simple flex of his eyes that made everything Clark was seeing to turn to a blue light and he saw the skeletal versions of Jonathan and Martha. It was scary and somewhat fun to see their skeletal versions until he looked again—and immediately looked away as he recently discovered that with enough concentration, he could also see through clothes . . .
The fire was the hardest to control. Clark had to really concentrate hard to make sure. The Kents decided to take Clark out in the middle of the field and away from the house and barn. Clark would bring out a worn-out tractor out in the middle of the field as Jonathan and Martha would watch. Thankfully, the engine had been removed for any potential explosions. Clark tried to remember what it was like when he set the school on fire. After shaking that trauma, he remembered the kind of feeling his eyes made when everything went red. It was almost different than the "x-ray vision", but it worked once Clark's eyesight went red. He felt his eyes warm up almost immediately, but it didn't feel as hot as it was back at the school. He worked more on the feeling until he came to realize that it had much more to do with emotion than the x-ray vision, which was more relevant to the manipulation of his eyes. The heat had to do more with a focused sense of anger. Once he exploited that emotion, it got easier and easier. With each use, Clark was able to have better control over the heat. Soon enough, there were numerous burn marks on the used tractor as if a powerful laser was able to slightly permeate through the old metal. Jonathan and Martha couldn't see a beam of light, but they were able to make out the ripples in the air coming from Clark's red-lighted eyes.
One day while testing in the barn, Clark made a straight line while trying to get a better handle while trying to make basic shapes. While he could make straight lines, he decided to work on circles. Something less angular was difficult to work with, as he tried to maintain the concentration and how much it would affect his handle. Unfortunately, he didn't count on splitting the alien rocket in half. In a chilling moment of panic, Clark ceased himself and stared at the rocket. There were no scorch marks whatsoever. The metal had remained shimmering since the day he first discovered it.
Clark growled. "It's too hard."
Martha came to his aid and took notice that the glass shards were also unaffected. There were still pieces of glass within the rocket's seat where she had found him. Taking the opportunity, she marched herself straight back into the house with an idea.
Shortly after, she returned outside with a pair of glasses. The rims were the same design that belonged to Jonathan, who wore them in his earlier years. Martha had taken two shards and managed to painstakingly fit them into the rims. When Clark wore them, Martha instructed him to try and conduct a fire once more. As she anticipated, the heat wouldn't activate. A lucky bonus was that no matter how hard Clark flexed his eyes, he couldn't utilize his x-ray vision.
It was then decided that the glasses would be the tool to quell any inadvertent use of what his eyes were capable of. Jonathan and Martha stressed Clark to no end that he should never—under any circumstances—lose those glasses . . . After that solution, Clark continued practicing the use of his eyes. It had been about a month and a half later until he had mastered on keeping his heat vision to a certain temperature as well prolonging it.
About a month afterward, Clark found another amazing discovery about himself. It had happened when the Kents were on their way home from another weekend trip to the downtown area. Traffic was little to none. The day hadn't been sunny in the least. There were several reports and warnings that severe rainstorms, as well as other weather-related hazards, were imminent, but that didn't stop the Kents from their regular outing. Different shades of grey clouds had blanketed the sun's bright encirclement on the Kansas' open fields. The entire environment's color had turned to a dull mix of blue and green. Thin white branches of electricity flashed in a blink. Soon enough, the smacking of raindrops assaulted the windshield, prompting the wipers from Jonathan. Dread had gripped the Kents' stomachs, fearing the worst as they looked outside to their surroundings, particularly where there was lightning bolts.
Their fears were confirmed once they saw the clouds ahead of them for only a few yards started to form a lump from its underside. Lightning crackled, heralding the next phase. The smoggy appendage had a noticeable swirling motion. A couple seconds followed, and the vortex stretched downwards and touched the ground, expelling a steam of light fog where it touched.
Jonathan turned the steering wheel as hard as he could without thinking. His foot never left the gas pedal. The tires squeaked along the slick wet asphalt, and the truck began swaying left and right at an uncontrollable pace. Jonathan tugged at the steering wheel, but the lack of traction wouldn't save him. The Kents let out horrified cries as the truck's unstable path was still leading them to the cloudy vortex.
Finally, the truck came to a halt as Jonathan's foot found the brakes. The fast winds painfully rung through their ears, but they could still see the tornado barreling towards them.
"Get out!" Jonathan screamed.
Clark and Martha had already jiggled the door handle before hastily exiting the truck. Fear took hold of Clark and forced his hand to hold onto Martha's shirt from behind. Martha returned the favor and wrapped a secure arm around him, ducking their heads from the eye-stinging rain and wind. Jonathan had caught up with them, but the tornado was picking up speed.
Clark looked behind him and let out a cry of dreaded surprise. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth as the wet wind stung his face. Tightening his grip around his parent, he increased the muscle power in his legs, hoping that his alien biology would allow him to outrun such a force of nature.
Clark no longer felt his feet pounding the wet ground. His body shivered in terror. Even with someone with high endurance and unnatural strength, he found himself to be no match for the tornado's monstrous pull. He let out a scream, along with his parents who made hysterical cries.
The stinging rain had softened. The tornado's howl died, but there was still strong wind gusting his hair backward harshly. Everything had calmed. Whatever it was didn't feel like a tornado anymore.
Clark opened his eyes as everything around him relaxed, save for the wind that he felt blowing in his face. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped as looked ahead of him. Clark, who was holding onto his parents in one in each arm, was no longer on the ground, indeed. But he was mesmerized that he was above the ground and moving forward, away from the tornado. He saw that he and his parents were getting higher and higher off the ground until he could be at the same height of the tall trees that were further away.
"Oh, my God!" Clark cried as his face unchanged as he searched below him.
"You can fly?" Martha cried as her face matched Clark's.
"Clark, you're flying!" Jonathan yelled as he had a mix of amazement and fright.
"How do I control this?" Clark yelled out loud.
His altitude stumbled. The Kents lost a couple of yards in a jolting drop. Clark yelped as they started darting downwards.
Their screams kicked up again. Soon enough, the Kents sharply descended. Instinctively, Clark tried his body the same way he had practiced on his eyes. He wondered if tightening his muscles would be a way of steering himself.
It had only worked a little and the Kents then took a slow ascent. By now, they had reached an empty grassy field, far away from where they should have been killed.
Clark tried again, and only a sliver of altitude was gained.
"Clark!" Jonathan yelled.
Panicking, Clark tried swinging his legs ahead of him to try and get him to land on his feet. He kicked his legs, hoping to get some traction once he hit the ground. His legs had only missed the ground by at least a dozen inches.
He tried again. As his feet hit the ground, Clark kicked his legs again and they propelled himself forward. He ran for a couple of yards before letting go of his parents and he, himself, fell forward back on the ground. Clark got up immediately and ran towards his parents, who slowly got themselves up. "Are you okay?" he said fearfully. Jonathan and Martha rolled over; groaning as they placed themselves on their sides and faced Clark with mouth gaping astonishments while panting.
Clark's face went white as their eyes met his. "Nobody saw that, right?"' he said.
Jonathan's only form of response was a wide-eyed stare as if in a trance before he turned to face him. "You can fly," he said as he was lost of what to think. He started wheezing out a bright and awed laugh, "You can fly!"
Clark felt the invitation from his father's laughter. "That was awesome!"
Martha only giggled and shook her head.
"Mom, did you see that?" Clark reveled.
"That was great," she said weakly before changing her tone. "Honey, you might want to ease your grip next time." She lifted her shirt revealing a purplish mark on her side.
"Er . . . sorry," Clark winced. He still had to work on restraining on holding on someone too tight. "Wait," he remembered. "Dad, the truck!"
Chuckling, Jonathan made a disregarding gesture with his hand. "Piece of shit, anyway."
The following weekend, that entire experience gave Clark an urge to try flying along with the rest of his practices. As excited as he was to try it, a large part of him was hesitant. He wasn't entirely comfortable after making that rough landing, not knowing what to do while in midair. When he was ready, the Kents decided it was best to try it at night when there was no one to witness it. They had been lucky that no one saw Clark flying that day, otherwise there would be too many questions to contain. Ultimately, it was decided that flying lessons would take place at midnight on weekends only, otherwise it'd interfere in Clark's curfew on school nights. Jonathan and Martha had arranged that he should start out by learning how he got in midair to begin with.
Clark tried tightening all his muscles in his body and crouched down for a jumping position, once he pushed himself upward, his feet left the earth. He stumbled a few times, but he was able to keep himself up in the air for longer periods of time for every attempt. He crashed a few times back on the ground, but his Kyryptonian body protected him from any damages from impact. He even got himself right above the barn, but he fell and crashed through. After the crash, he immediately wanted to try again as he exited through the barn doors as if falling through a wooden roof meant nothing. After trying again, Clark found that keeping his hands out in front of him made steering while in midair much easier as if steering a car. It had also helped him maintain his direction.
Once he got himself into the air without any further problems, he was tempted.
After a couple of months of adjusting to his newfound capabilities, Clark looked back into the rocket that he was sent from. Inside, he found several items. One was a miniature statue of a man, standing tall as if giving a command to a grand army. The man didn't have any resemblance to Jor-El, but Clark saw that he did wear the same "S" shaped emblem that his real parents wore. After deducing that it was some sort of ancestor to the "House of El", Clark searched for more things that were found. He also found some clothes.
He saw three different kinds.
One was the same kind of robes Jor-El wore and one was more feminine that resembled the woman that Jor-El claimed to be his mother. Like the hologram that projected from the rocket, the clothes were white while bearing the "S" symbol.
Then, there was the third.
The third uniform was a vastly different color than the others. The third had a heavy emphasis on blue, save for the legs, below the knees. The boots were a brighter red and the "S" symbol was wide on the chest area. The "S" shape itself was red against a bright yellow background. The torso had several lines of blue and silver that stretched to behind the chest area. The tips of the sleeves had silver and blue cuffs. What was the most distinct about this uniform was that it bore a red cape that stretched all the way down to the red boots, somewhere between the calves and ankles.
Of all outfits found in the rocket, Clark found this one to be more appealing. Unfortunately, it was too big for him to try on. He had figured that this was meant for him personally, once he reached adulthood. Sighing disappointingly that he would have to wait, Clark put the blue uniform back in its place.
The years that had followed felt more different than ever for Clark. The discovery of what his parents had hidden in that barn for so many years conducted a series of events that moved Clark into solitude. There was a time when he talked to Lana nearly every morning. But as the days after the following week, he had drifted away from her with little to no words. He even found himself no longer having any kind of contact with Pete Ross, who eventually moved when high school came into their lives. Clark hadn't heard from Lana ever since their high school years had ended. He wanted to hell himself that he didn't feel guilty that he felt it was best for them, but that would've been a lie. It had been in fact painful. In the following grades, he tried his best to avoid making friends to lessen the chances of another incident. He figured it was best, yet there were nights when Clark spent several hours in his bedroom crying. He wanted to avoid them, but it felt so wrong. And unfair.
Upon graduating with a degree in journalism, opportunities for Clark moving away had broadened. There were several places that had open positions for reporters and journalists. At one point, he thought about becoming an anchorman for Smallville, but other places had offered much more money. He had thought about applying to Gotham, but the crime rates even put Detroit to shame, not to mention Martha's "hell, no" comment on that possibility.
The reviews for the Daily Planet in Metropolis, however, caught Clark's eye more than the others. The Daily Planet had been one of the larger newspaper corporations than most of the others he worked for interns. The Daily Planet did have much more positive ratings, except from larger corporations who had threatened to shut them down on numerous occasions. That gave Clark the idea that the more daring one place was, the more likely he would make to live out on his own in a big city.
Jonathan and Martha, on the other hand, were far more reluctant about the notion of their son living far away, surrounded by millions of people who had no idea who he really is. Clark had insisted that it would be best to be in a highly populated area, where he could blend in with a much larger crowd than a small-town area. In addition, Jonathan and Martha did assert that he should be in a career that was as successful as his college grades in journalism.
After months and months of dead ends and silent feedback on applications while staying in an apartment outside of Smallville, Clark ultimately decided to take the opportunity of becoming a reporter at the Daily Planet in Metropolis, Delaware, thousands of miles away from Kansas.
Moving had been an entire ordeal for Clark, as well as Jonathan and Martha, who provided extra cash, which Clark guiltily accepted with a forced smile. It was decided that the cheapest way possible was driving across the country rather than just taking a flight up in the northeastern states. Clark had contacted several places for U-Haul containers as well as other moving vans. His personal belongings were easy to fit in—mainly due to his Kryptonian strength. When the moving process happened, Clark tried to act normal and make it seem like the furniture was heavy. Carrying a bed on one side had been nothing, he was nearly tempted to move a chair with the other arm. He had restrained himself and tried to act fatigued like the other movers who were already sweating from the work and heat.
Once all had been placed in the U-Haul and his own car, Clark packed up everything. He drove by the Kent's and retrieved only several items from the rocket. He had retrieved the miniature statue and the blue Kryptonian uniform that belonged to no one. Discreetly, he had thought about trying it on. He had wondered about being a service to other people while wearing it. If this was, in fact, passed down specifically for him, he was curious to see how other people would see him. Maybe if he did all these things that no one else could do while wearing it, people would be more welcoming to something like that more than an ordinary man in a shirt, shorts and a baseball cap. Just maybe . . . Then again, Clark fastened his focus on a more humanistic future with realistic goals—being a successful reporter at a network that's been established since the late 1930s. There would be no room for trying to live like a normal person among billions.
Shrugging the thought away, Clark smuggled the items from the rocket into his car, as he felt more secure if they were closer rather than a U-Haul truck.
As Clark made his farewell from his hometown, he started the long journey from Kansas and made his weeklong trip to the northeast of the United States.
Metropolis. The City of Tomorrow, it was called when it was first built back in the much older days. It was a lot more exhilarating than the online images Clark saw for background research. The golden plated skyscrapers had nearly touched the heavens in a bright gleam. The sun's overhead watch granted the city an idyllic spirit that could bring a peaceful sensation to any onlooker or tourist. The sky was a naked bright day and a moderately warm temperature flowed through the streets.
Aside from the breathtaking view of the City of Tomorrow, there was the usual ambiance of any busy city in broad daylight; car horns would echo in the distance as people walked along the sidewalks or across the streets when the sign said they could.
Clark had been worried about that when he had first arrived, along with his U-Haul container, tailgated behind him. According to his GPS, he didn't have to take any U-turns, much to his relieved satisfaction.
The rest of the trip delivered him in the suburbs of New Troy, the center borough of the city. There, Clark followed his destination which was 344 Clinton Street, the third floor of the large apartment complex, which was at least thirty minutes away from the rest of the crowded apartment. Some of the neighbors who lived rooms away didn't seem to be all that hostile. In fact, they didn't seem all that lifelike either. Clark silently wondered if a mundane personality was better than a bad one at least. Those who did have a distinction introduced themselves to Clark. One was
Room 3-D was large and fancy. There were rooms that would have enough space for several pieces of furniture. The kitchen was nice and spacious, and the master bedroom was large enough to have plenty of
The unpacking of his belongings took almost no time as he was able to lift with absolutely no difficulty. Then again, the angling and pivoting of his couch did take more unanticipated time than he was hoping for. . .
Once that was out of the way, Clark pulled out his brand-new Apple MacBook laptop that he purchased to get ready for the new job and laid it on his desk.
After completing his personal settings on the PC, he pulled out his phone, looking for a good place to grab a bite in the upcoming hours of dinnertime. Clark was thankful that he didn't have to start until Monday, and the weekend had only just begun, giving plenty of time for exploration.
After a couple of hours of napping, he decided to take a walk outside onto Clinton Street and have a look at New Troy's urban wonders. As he walked himself onto the busy streets, he got to a stopping place and saw the Daily Planet from a distance.
The Daily Planet's structure stuck out from all its surrounding buildings as it loomed over its fellow towers. The biggest distinctive feature of it all was the large golden sculpture of a sphere with the words "DAILY PLANET" ringing around it like a replica of Saturn.
Along the other tall skyscrapers was the largest corporation in the city as well as one of the largest in the world, was LexCorp Tower, which stood tall, almost as if competing with the Daily Planet itself. From what Clark read about the history of the Daily Planet, LexCorp owned a substantial portion of the businesses in Metropolis but wasn't able to obtain the Daily Planet for unknown reasons. It certainly was a different place than what Clark had been used to back home, where it was only roads, surrounded by fields and an occasional gas station at corners.
In that time of exploration, there were several tourist spots that he had been interested in ever since he researched several aspects about Metropolis. He visited the city's natural history museum, which was thankfully found in New Troy, where he found more information about its settlement dating back to the 1600s by Italian navigator Vincenzo Gnanatti and Dutchman Paul De Vries first made its settlement during the European colonization. The city also became an unfortunate ground for bigotry and xenophobia during the Irish immigration in 1847. It was unsettling to read those words, how those immigrants would be disowned for mere variance. They were not from here and may not have even spoken a common language, but the inevitable good they brought would benefit their land for generations.
Tossing away the grim parallel, he proceeded into the histories of the different boroughs, such as St. Martin's Island, Queensland Park and Park Ridge, which were all founding points of the entire city throughout the Revolutionary War.
Later, he took a ferry to St. Martin's Island. The island itself was nearly covered with taller buildings and many other larger houses that belonged to the upper class. He remembered thinking that this was definitely not the place for him to live—at least for now, considering how much money he had up until now. Maybe he could live here after a period of time. There was no doubt that this is where the majority of Metropolis politicians resided, along with the businessmen who kept the city on its feet. Clark, however, did find pleasure in seeing several landmarks such as St. Martin's Hospital, which was the largest hospital in the city.
The last borough he would visit for the day would be Bakerline. It was almost like New Troy, only this had a more vast focus on middle-class suburbs. Though, the biggest feature to stand out was the Naval base right on the coast that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean. It wasn't busy, but they kept a restrictive protocol to keep civilians away from the premises.
The sky had turned into a dark blue by the time Clark returned to his apartment. He was tired, but he wasn't physically tired. The entire day had been a huge shift. The move, the exploring, the traveling and ultimately—the first day of the rest of his life all hit him at once and robbed his energy.
He had changed into his pajamas and got his suitcase full of documents as well as his tomorrow's work clothes, hanging neatly on the knob of his closet. The night's anticipation made him worry. He had worked it all before. He knew that stress and how demanding these kinds of jobs were, and it would be foolish to think the Daily Planet would be less severe, let alone easier. As he lay worrying that if he'd get any sleep, he looked at the empty ceiling above him as his eyes were adjusting to the dark. He remembered the glow in the dark stars that were pasted on his ceiling back in his youth. The sound of crickets chirping their songs under a still warm nightly air instead of the twenty-four periodical sounds of car horns and police sirens. That would take a hell of a long time to get used to. Unlike the other times back home. How things were simpler back then. Before things became more complicated.
An idea then occurred to him. He shifted himself out of bed and walked over towards his window. Outside was nothing but an empty deep blue sky that had several stars that gave a shining gaze back at him.
Taking the chance, Clark lifted himself off the floor of his apartment and carefully made his way out of the window. The cool temperature was a chilling difference than the accustomed overbearing Kansas heat. Clark felt more chilled as the wind breezed against him as he soared upwards at an angle. As he reached a certain height, he looked below him to find a tall rooftop.
Once he found one, he worked his muscles to drive himself and make a smooth landing on the hard-stone surface. He sat downward and looked outward. The lights of cars flowed like a sparkling river against the rest of the streetlights which beamed over them. The view was an amazing sight, but it made him think back on the previous years that led him here. It wasn't a thrilling life before now as he found himself now more alone than ever. He was proud of his accomplishments in the past, but he still felt empty. Since that incident of discovering that he's an alien from outer space, he no longer felt the need to be around people who weren't like him. Even today, he conjectured if he had done the right thing years ago of letting his childhood friends go. On one hand, it felt right. After breaking someone's arm, there could've been something worse, and setting a school full of kids on fire sealed the deal. He wouldn't injure anybody, and they would go on and lead happy normal lives without him.
A large city like Metropolis would be too large for anyone to notice him. Working at a place, however, would inevitably bring people to him. It would be like his childhood years all over again: him hiding in the shadows and only appearing when he deemed it necessary. Acting normal and being normal wasn't the same thing, and no matter even if acting normal would negate his alien heritage.
Soon enough, his eyes felt heavy, and he began to drift. It was time to head back. Gathering the energy, he lifted himself off and directed himself back to Clinton Street.
The morning sunlight was much brighter than the previous dawns. At least that meant a lesser chance of rain and more sunshine—a fine start to the first day. Clark could use that as a comfort on his first day at work. The forecast's predictions were on the right track of saying it would be sunny all day.
He slipped into his white shirt and shimmering silk tie, all of which were layered by a deep blue dress coat. He scanned himself in the mirror—darn it. He saw that this beard was starting to become more and more obvious. His five o'clock shadow snuck up on him after all these days of exploring. He completely forgot about it.
Focusing carefully, he activated the heat from his eyes and focused on his lower jaw. When he learned how to shave, he experimented with the possibility of using his eye heat for hair laser removal. Of course, it occurred to him after he concentrated enough to where he could conjure a heat ever so weak.
A couple of seconds later, and Clark's stubble had faded, leaving a smooth surface of skin. He looked much better and more appropriate for a large corporation. At least that would save him some razors. He'd have to call his dad and tell him to not get any more for him for future Christmases. He placed his "special glasses" on his face and exited his apartment.
The walk to the Daily Planet wasn't as frustrating as he had envisioned. There was a crowd of people like he anticipated. Then again, he had been in large crowds before. He was used to it, but he much more preferred larger spaces. He maintained a modest posture and managed to fit in among the rest of the crowd, who were either on the way to their workplace or any other purpose. He planned the trip to the building carefully. He'd walk a few blocks and take a metro station to the tower. It was certainly different than anything he remembered from Smallville, where everyone knew everyone. There was rarely a gas station at a corner of a block.
By now, he was used to it. Seeing so many faces that he would only remember and never get too used to. A career at the Daily Planet would at least give him faces to remember much longer. Just don't get too attached like usual.
As he entered the main floor, he felt the excitement heating through his suit. He checked his watch. He was making good time. Taking a deep breath, he walked inside the Daily Planet's lobby.