There's been an influx of WAFF lately, hasn't there? <g>
Let me try my hand - one more time - at being moderately evil. Okay, not *evil* but---um...
Pesky?
Warning: This may be utterly confusing. Period. And there may not be any explanations for a while, sorry.
This is mostly an attempt to break out of my "I-don't-write-things-with-actual-plots" shell. Hopefully, the end product will be worth it. In the meantime, since I'm new to writing A-plots and all, input and feedback is MUCH appreciated, and suggestions will be taken with much appreciation.
Okay, enough intro, time for sleep. Hope you enjoy at least some of it.
White Washed History
part one: And the Weirdness Walks In
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Light fell from the open bathroom door. A young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, softly padded down the darkened hallway towards it. "Johnny?" He reached out a hand and pushed the door open, stepping into the bathroom. His bare feet hit the cool tile. He was almost naked, except for a pair of faded jeans, and his hair was a dishevelled mess. "What's going---" He stopped abruptly as he registered the scene before him.
A strange man was standing in the middle of the bathroom, smiling wickedly. The door to the medicine cabinet was opened, and the man held a syringe and a small vial. He turned when the intruder entered. "Corey Barricot, I presume?" His smirk was almost audible.
Corey closed his eyes, shaking his head vehemently as he did so. When he opened them again, the man was still there. "I took them," he said quietly to himself. "I swear, I took them."
The man gave him a breif, condescending smile before turning back to the syringe. "All this time, it's been right here," he said mysteriously, "and I never knew it." He peeled his eyes away from the syringe and looked up at Corey. "And do you know why?"
Corey hesitantly shook his head.
"White-washed history," he continued just as cryptically. "Plain and simple." He put the syringe and vial into a small case and pocketed them.
"Wait, what are you doing?" Corey blurted.
The man merely laughed and vanished in a blue light while muttering something about irony. As soon as he was gone, Corey raced to the medicine cabinet and pulled out a small container of pills.
********************************************
METROPOLIS - 1998
Lois paced the length of the living room. "Okay, how about a hollogram?"
Clark, seated on the sofa with his arms folded over his chest, merely shook his head. "Won't work. Someone's invariably going to try to touch him or shake his hand."
"Maybe you could just....take lots of bathroom breaks?" Lois wheeled around, one hand scratching the back of her neck.
Clark looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. "It wouldn't work."
Lois gave up and flopped down onto the sofa beside her husband. "Dang it, Clark! Why did you have to agree to show up as Clark *and* Superman?" He started to reply, but she cut him off with a raised hand. "Never mind. How about a stunt double?"
"He'd promised to fly the kids around," Clark pointed out, "and anyway, I'd rather not have to explain the situation to someone else."
Lois sighed, and brought a hand to rest on her head while she thought. "Do you think we can find a way to get in touch with Alt-Clark by then?"
Clark shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "There's got to be *something*..."
As if on cue, there was a knock on the door.
Lois and Clark exchanged glances. The knock repeated, slightly more loudly. Lois stood and went to answer the door. As she did so, Clark lowered his glasses. His eyebrows climbed into his hair when he realized what he was seeing.
Lois pulled the door open to reveal---Superman. Or at least, it was a man who looked an awful lot *like* Superman, costume and everything, standing on their front step, in broad daylight...
He grinned at her. "Hi!" he said cheerfully, "I'm your descendant from the future!"
*--*
Lois grabbed the man's arm and pulled him into the house, slamming the door closed behind him. By this time, Clark had stood and was crossing the living room towards them.
"Hi," the man repeated, offering his hand to a very bemused-looking Clark Kent. "I'm Jackie."
"Clark Kent," he responded automatically, taking the hand and shaking it. He cocked his head, staring intently at the figure standing just a few inches from him. "Did you say that you're our *descendant*?"
"Yep."
Lois circled him, scrutinizing his features and the spandex suit. "I'll admit, you look the part," she started to say, slowly.
"Thanks," said Jackie, still smiling. He shifted his cape aside and turned, reaching behind him to pull something out of a secret pocket in the material. "Listen, I don't have much time, but could you do me a huge favor?"
Lois and Clark glanced at each other.
He turned back towards them and straightend, holding an envelope in his hand. He pushed it in Clark's general direction. "I'm going to leave, and I'll be back in a few minutes with H. G. Wells. I need you to give this to me; but whatever you do, don't tell either of us that I was here. Okay?"
Clark's fingers closed around the envelope as he and Lois continued to stare blankly at the man.
"Thanks." Suddenly, he stepped forward and looped his arms around each of them in a tight hug. "It's great to see you guys again!"
Before either of them could respond, he was gone with a rush of air and a classic sonic boom.
Lois and Clark turned towards each other, their faces mirroring the same expression of confusion and disbelief. "Well," Clark began, "That was----"
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
