Smallville, Kansas; August 20th

It's hard to say goodbye. Jonathan Kent found this to be especially true as he packed the last of his son's possessions for his move to Delaware. Sure, he'd still get a chance to see his son every Friday night, but the farm would definitely be more lonely without Clark constantly around. Fortunately, Clark was staying with family; Martha's sister, Eliza (who had also served as a physician of sorts during Clark's childhood on the rare, yet concerning occasions where he got sick), Jeremiah, and Alex (who had an almost sibling-like bond with Clark). Hopefully they were ready to handle Clark's... secondary hobby, as Jonathan liked to call it.

"Uh oh," muttered Clark as he set the last box down in the truck bed.

"Trouble?" Jonathan asked his son, who was already unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the blue suit with an 'S' shield highlighted in yellow with a black background and red lettering that his mother made for him as a means of separating his 'work' life from his personal life.

"A tidal wave's set to hit the coast of Florida in about ten minutes... and it seems to have come out of nowhere." And quickly, Clark flew off, leaving his father proud at the man he had become

"It was a disaster, Jean, and you know it," said the brown haired teen with a slim yet athletic frame and a pair of gold-colored goggles that had a single red frame on them in the form of a strip. His name was Scott Summers, and he was the leader of a group called the X-Men. Or at least they hoped to be, since they had only just started their attempt to show the world that mutants could be good guys, too... and failed so miserably at it on their first public outing that they needed the Professor to wipe the minds of witnesses before they could report what occurred.

"We saved the day in the end. That's all that matters," replied the red haired Jean Grey as she had started to take the pilot stick of the SR-77 Blackbird Jet, aptly nicknamed the X-Jet. "Magneto may have gotten away, but no one was seriously injured in the process."

"Warren left us..."

"Who needs that cocky asshole anyways," chimed in the human-shaped snowman in boots known as Bobby Drake. Both Jean and Scott gave Bobby what he referred to as 'the Mom-and-Dad Stare'. It was an impressive feat to Bobby to see the stare from Scott given that he always appeared to be scowling under his glasses, but it always stung coming from Jean. "All I'm saying is his expectations were way too high going into the superhero business. Better to leave him and the anxiety he brings out of the group."

"His assessment wasn't wrong, though," said the burly, blue furred Hank McCoy in the back. "We were caught by surprise and barely utilized our training as a team against Magneto. But I'm sure we'll only get better with time."

"Exactly, Hank!" Jean remarked, "Better to have a positive outlook on th- whoa!" Jean sensed it before she saw it; what appeared to be either an exceptionally fast bird or some small experimental aircraft nearly grazing the X-Jet's port wing.

"What was that?!" Bobby asked in amazement as the coating of snowy ice around him melted to reveal his brown haired, blue eyed form.

"Whatever it is... it's already gone." Jean stated with surprise as she looked down at the X-Jet's radar.

"So you're saying there's something out there that can escape the sensors of the Blackbird?"

"Or someone, Scott."

Midvale, Delaware; September 12th

"... and honestly, the hot dogs they serve here are amazing." Alex Danvers, the brownish-red haired cousin of Clark, had been chattering away for the last 10 minutes, obviously excited that Clark would be living with them while he was attending classes at Metropolis University. Of course, such a tender moment between two cousins who had not seen each other for three years at the Midvale High homecoming game had to be interrupted by movement from below.

"I think someone's stealing wallets from beneath the bleachers..." Clark was currently looking down at the bleachers with his glasses tilted down toward the end of his nose. He was also wearing a button-up shirt and cardigan sweater, which Alex mocked him for.

"Sure, I pour my heart out to you and you just ignore me," Alex declared as she did her best to look offended, even though she wasn't. She knew what Clark had been doing for people all over the world for the past four years or so, and she wasn't going to begrudge his desire to help folks. Now mocking him for not having a healthy work-home balance wasn't off the table, though. Clark returned her mock glare with a look that was akin to a golden retriever wanting permission to save his drowning owner, and Alex broke. "Go! but make it quick." And Clark rushed off. "But don't forget to get me a hot dog!"

"Scott? No!" Clark, now in his work clothes, heard as he saw one of the Midvale High football players throw a guy wearing red sunglasses into a frame of the bleachers. As Glasses bumped against the bleachers, his glasses slipped off and Clark noticed what appeared to be beams of concussive energy coming from his eyes. In the split second before he could cause any property damage, Clark moved faster than the human eye could see, interposing himself between Glasses and the football player, absorbing the powerful concussive force.

"I've got you!" Clark exclaimed as he took the energy blast for a good 3 seconds before Glasses closed his eyes. "I take it the glasses you wear keep that in check. You're practically packing a bazooka behind those eyes." Clark told him as he helped get his shades back on.

"You're... okay... How are you okay?" asked the red haired girl whom Clark realized was calling out for Scott.

"It's not my first time getting hit by a bazooka... and that sounded better in my head than it did out loud..."

As the guy in glasses, whom Clark started to assume was this Scott, adjusted himself and got a decent look at his rescuer, all he could say was, "Nice outfit." The blue spandex and red, yellow, & black emblem on the chest was complimented by red boots, a red cape, red trunks on the outside of the blue spandex, and a yellow belt.

"Thanks! My mom made it for me," Clark replied with utmost sincerity. The red haired girl smiled at that.

As Clark began to move away in response to the football player leaving while shaking off a minor head injury, the red haired girl said, "Wait! Who are you? And how can we find you?"

"I'm... a friend," Clark began as he hovered in midair, realizing he wasn't amazing these two as much as he might expect, "And... I'll be around..." with that, he flew off, eventually circling back around once he changed back into his casual outfit. Before he returned to Alex, there was one thing he needed to get.

Alex gasped as he walked up the bleachers with two hot dogs. "Okay, all is forgiven now. What was up?"

"There was a bit of a scuffle between some football players and a high schooler named Scott who was wearing shades. Do you know anything about him?"

"Ah, that's Scott Summers," Alex told him between bites, "He's one of those kids who lives at a boarding house. Him, Jean Grey, and Bobby Drake. There was also a Warren Worthington who lived there, too, but no one's seen him since school started. And a guy named Hank McCoy. He used to go here, but he graduated and is attending classes at Met U now."

"There's a boarding school for kids attending a public school? Why not a private school?" Clark took a bite of his hot dog. Wow! How is this only sold at a high school concession stand?

"Yeah, it's weird... No one's really looked into it..."

"Why not?" Alex's blank face in response frightened Clark. He immediately began scanning the vicinity for a potential culprit, which he assumed to be a telepath of some sort. As soon as he felt a presence in his mind, the training he did with Imra took hold and he quickly snapped his head toward the source: the Xavier Institute for the Gifted.