Clark Kent nodded off somewhere between Smallville and the suburbs of Metropolis, but his eyes flashed open as he finally neared the city. He always knew there was something in him that longed for city life. He just hoped he would fit in; there were things about him that would be awfully hard to explain. He had skills, talents, gifts--whatever they were called, they certainly weren’t normal. He had a feeling he’d slipped up a few times in Smallville. He’d used some pretty lame excuses to cover up for those special skills. Here in Metropolis, he’d be starting over. He had another chance. Clark Jerome Kent was going to be a normal guy.
But not now.
Something caught his eye in the next lane over. He looked out the bus window at a red Toyota that was careening out of control. They were just crossing the bridge over Hobbs Bay, and Clark watched the car hit the guardrail, flip over, and pitch forward into the bay. He heaved an inward groan. His super hearing had picked up the passenger’s yell; he had no choice. How could he ignore someone who needed help? He pressed the button, alerting the driver to stop at the next bus stop. Fortunately it was on the other end of the bridge. He got off, tossed his suitcase to the side of the road, and dashed off at super speed towards the accident.
The car had vanished from sight and Clark was quick to dive into the icy water. Fast as he could, he swam to the bottom until he was near the vehicle. It was upside down, the windows were down, and it was filled with water by the time he got there. There was one passenger, an unresponsive young man.
Working fast, Clark pulled the man from the car, severing the seatbelt with a blast of heat vision. He swam towards the shore, towing the victim with him. Clark lifted the man onto dry land. He listened for breathing and a heartbeat. Nothing.
Clark started CPR at once. Pinching the young man’s nostrils closed, he drew in a deep breath, pushing the air into the man’s lungs. He tried again and again. Nothing. When he sat up, the accident victim’s moustache was askew. A fake moustache? Clark peeled it from his face. He looked even younger now. The kid was maybe 18 or 20.
The boy was growing ashen--his face a ghostly white, and his lips taking on a bluish tone. Clasping his hands together he started to perform chest compressions. Something felt strange beneath the man’s shirt. Clark rolled the wet t-shirt up to reveal...
Ace bandages?!
Had the boy been in an accident before? He was wounded! What was he doing driving, anyhow? Clark could see why the rescue breathing had been unsuccessful so far. He could barely get the air to fill the boy’s lungs with him bound so tightly. Injury or not, Clark knew the boy could die if he didn’t remove the bandage. Quickly he began to unwind the wrappings from the victim’s body. He was a slight kid, scrawny and thin.
But... what was going on?
He couldn’t believe it.
This wasn’t a boy. Not with *those.*
He stared in awe for a second. It couldn’t be... could it? Before he gave anymore thought to it, he realized he had work to do. Peeling the adhesive goatee from the girl’s chin, he started rescue breathing again. This time, he could feel the air rushing into her waterlogged lungs. After a few tries, she coughed.
Clark eased her gently into a sitting position, where she coughed up water and gratefully gasped for air.
“You okay?” Clark asked, rolling the shirt down to cover the girl.
She turned to see her rescuer. The color was returning to her face. She was a beautiful girl, to his surprise! A strange girl, but a beauty nonetheless.
She seemed startled--confused. Normal behavior for someone who nearly drowned. “Okay?” she asked, her mind hazy. “Yeah--okay. I’m okay. You--you saved me--! Thank you.”
“It was nothing,” Clark said with a smile and a shrug. His mind raced. He tried to act as cool and collected as he could given the circumstances. “You’re a very lucky--” He almost said ‘girl.’ But didn’t crossdressers prefer to be called by the gender they were dressing as...? Clark opted for the safer, more gender-neutral, “You’re a very lucky person. I’m glad I could help.”
The girl sat on the ground for a few more moments resting, her chest rising and falling gratefully with each new breath. Oh, yes, Clark observed, she was very definitely a woman, in that wet, white t-shirt. He tore his eyes away and stood up. He offered her his hand and helped her up. “You should really file an accident report with the police. Your car--”
“It’s not my car,” she interrupted.
Clark tried not to look surprised. “Can I call you a cab?”
The girl looked flustered and embarrassed. “No, no. I’ll be fine. Thanks. You’ve done enough already.”
She headed for the roadside, pulling a knit cap off her head and shaking her short, brown hair loose. She wrung out the hat and hailed the next cab with a shrill whistle.
Clark watched the taxi disappear. There went his first city rescue. He shook his head. His mom had been correct; people certainly *were* different in the city.
* * * * *
Lois Lane rode home in silence, her mind racing furiously. At the forefront of her mind, she wondered who had sabotaged the car. Somehow, one of the guys in the gang must have figured her out. Whether or not they knew she was a woman was beside the point; someone knew she was leaking information.
“Lou,” Gary had said, pulling her aside from the other guys, “d’you think you could do us a favor and take this ‘ere Toyota down to Doug’s garage? He’s gonna keep it under wraps for us for a few days there.”
Lois--or, rather, “Lou”--nodded, having grown accustomed to doing things like that in the past few weeks. She’d been readily accepted into their gang and had participated in a number of carjackings. She had just been getting some evidence--dialogue on tape--before she and the police force blew their operation wide open. Today was supposed to be the day – Henderson was prepared to meet her at Doug’s garage…
But she must have been sloppy.
No.
Lois Lane was *never* sloppy.
She shook her head. Where had she gone wrong? And what exactly had they done to get the stolen car to careen out of control that way? She’d had absolutely no control over the vehicle. She honestly didn’t think she’d survive the plunge over the bridge and into the bay.
Which brought her mind around to her rescue.
How...?
How in the world did that man swim to her aid so quickly? Was he some kind of Olympic swimmer? She couldn’t fathom it.
Even stranger was an image she recalled just before she blacked out. The man--he had laser-like rays shooting from his eyes! He severed the seatbelt to free her! Was she hallucinating? She must have been. But where else would she have come up with such an odd memory?
That man had absolutely used some kind of ray to release the seatbelt.
He was a handsome stranger, that was for sure. She’d been embarrassed about her appearance when she was conscious enough to realize what she looked like. Her damaged pride was enough to make her leave the scene as fast as she could.
‘Idiot,’ she told herself. ‘You should have at least caught his name.’
Now how was she going to find the handsome stranger with the otherwoldly powers? The Good Samaritan who’d saved her life...?
A cool shiver ran up her spine. Could it have something to do with the strange diary she’d found? A man – a super man. Just as the diary had predicted.
* * * * *
Clark Kent checked into a hotel room as soon as he could. He wanted to freshen up and at least change before heading to the Daily Planet.
