Post by Superman on May 11, 2011 20:29:01 GMT -5
There is a coolness, a stillness in the morning, just before dawn, where all the world seems at peace, when I can awaken and hear only the heartbeat of my wife. I feel her warmth beside me, and all I want to do is fall into her, to inhale the scent of her hair and fade back into quiet dreams.
Thats not to be. As I drift, my senses expand naturally to encompass the room, and then beyond it to the apartment as whole, and farther still, past the building until it takes in the city. For a moment it overhwelms me, a rushing torrent that fills my head like crashing waves upon the surf, filling me me up, crushing me beneath their weight. I let that pass though, focussing on the familar sound of Lois' heartbeat beside me. Not blocking out the world at large so much as prioritizing it, taking it one step at a time.
I move from beside her slowly, carefully extricating myself from her warm curves, sliding my arm from under her, and then levering myself up effortlessly on the edge of the bed. Hearing her groan weakly in protest as I move from her.
I sit there for a moment, on the edge of the bed, my feet on warm carpet as I take in the room around me, watching the first rays of sun pass into the apartment from the eastern windows, rolling warmly across Lois' cheek, and reflecting dimly off of my glasses on the nightstand.
Carefully I reach over, delicately taking them into my hands, feeling the cool plastic of them in my touch, moving them to eye level and them slipping them over my ears.
My vision blurs at first from the view, for the fraction of a second that it takes my telescopic vision to adjust to them, adopting Clark Kent's blurred vision. At the same time I feel myself shift unconcously into character, my entire frame slouching slightly inward, hard muscle concealed by bad, almost unforgivably bad posture. Though I have no mirror handy I can feel features shift subtly, an impassive frown replaced by an almost melancholy smile, my brown softening as laugh lines form along my jaw, my head tilted subtly downward to draw attention away from my chin.
Others, the League particularly have often remarked that its amazing how easily I blend into human society with the simple addition of glasses, but they only say that because they don't understand what the transition truely entails, the almost metaphysical quality to my transformation.
Simply put, when I put the glasses on, I become Clark Kent. Not just the farmboy I've always been, but the cliche, the bumbling journalist. I even feel it in my bones as I start to move, rising with halfhearted stretch, nursing the ache from sleeping half under my wife throughout the night. Stumbling in the near darkness of our bedroom, knocking a shin into my dresser as I pass, cursing softly as I limp the rest of the way into the bathroom.
I don't even remove my glasses as I strip away my t-shirt and boxers, too used to them to even bother. Instead I focus on the shower, flipping it to near scalding before I step in, smilling at the pressure that blasts me as I enter. Just enough to knock the dregs of sleep from me.
After ten minutes of scrubbing, shaving by aid of heat vision, and some deeper thoughts I emerge, clean shaving and smiling as I meet the Day. Dirty clothes go in the hamper and I dress briskly in the dark, donning my uniform before my costume.
Over my Supersuit I don Clark's typical wardrobe, a pair of silver gray slacks, a white long sleeve dress shirt, and a brillaint red tie. I finish the look off with a sportcoat slung over the living room recliner, and a pair of comfortable black leather shoes. Nothing fancy, but thats sort of the whole point. I might pick up a raincoat too, but thats largely dependent on the weather forcast.
With that in mind I set to work on breakfast, speeding my way through that as only I can, even as my mind turns to other projects, pulling out my laptop and beginning the rough outline of my newest project.
Recently, there has been a subtle uptick in mob activity in Gotham, and indeed if sources are to be believed, across the nation. Initially I thought this might be Intergang of Lex related, but neither of those quite fits. The technology at play is below what Intergang typically uses, and it just doesn't meet Lex's typical MO. Far too brutal without reason to match his typical standards. Lex doesn't often fill body bags without a good reason.
No, these are signs of something else, something new. Typically, I'd just be happy swooping into Suicide Slums and shaking the answers out of one of the locals, but that hasn't turned up alot of leads. A more subtle hand is needed, and I can provide that at Clark Kent's more delicate touch. With his persona I can hopefully dig up more facts and find out more about this organization, or person as the case may be.
Soon enough Zodiac, whatever it is, will be splashed across the front page, and I'll be holding down the byline...with the bonus of having gotten them off the streets in the bargain.
Thats not to be. As I drift, my senses expand naturally to encompass the room, and then beyond it to the apartment as whole, and farther still, past the building until it takes in the city. For a moment it overhwelms me, a rushing torrent that fills my head like crashing waves upon the surf, filling me me up, crushing me beneath their weight. I let that pass though, focussing on the familar sound of Lois' heartbeat beside me. Not blocking out the world at large so much as prioritizing it, taking it one step at a time.
I move from beside her slowly, carefully extricating myself from her warm curves, sliding my arm from under her, and then levering myself up effortlessly on the edge of the bed. Hearing her groan weakly in protest as I move from her.
I sit there for a moment, on the edge of the bed, my feet on warm carpet as I take in the room around me, watching the first rays of sun pass into the apartment from the eastern windows, rolling warmly across Lois' cheek, and reflecting dimly off of my glasses on the nightstand.
Carefully I reach over, delicately taking them into my hands, feeling the cool plastic of them in my touch, moving them to eye level and them slipping them over my ears.
My vision blurs at first from the view, for the fraction of a second that it takes my telescopic vision to adjust to them, adopting Clark Kent's blurred vision. At the same time I feel myself shift unconcously into character, my entire frame slouching slightly inward, hard muscle concealed by bad, almost unforgivably bad posture. Though I have no mirror handy I can feel features shift subtly, an impassive frown replaced by an almost melancholy smile, my brown softening as laugh lines form along my jaw, my head tilted subtly downward to draw attention away from my chin.
Others, the League particularly have often remarked that its amazing how easily I blend into human society with the simple addition of glasses, but they only say that because they don't understand what the transition truely entails, the almost metaphysical quality to my transformation.
Simply put, when I put the glasses on, I become Clark Kent. Not just the farmboy I've always been, but the cliche, the bumbling journalist. I even feel it in my bones as I start to move, rising with halfhearted stretch, nursing the ache from sleeping half under my wife throughout the night. Stumbling in the near darkness of our bedroom, knocking a shin into my dresser as I pass, cursing softly as I limp the rest of the way into the bathroom.
I don't even remove my glasses as I strip away my t-shirt and boxers, too used to them to even bother. Instead I focus on the shower, flipping it to near scalding before I step in, smilling at the pressure that blasts me as I enter. Just enough to knock the dregs of sleep from me.
After ten minutes of scrubbing, shaving by aid of heat vision, and some deeper thoughts I emerge, clean shaving and smiling as I meet the Day. Dirty clothes go in the hamper and I dress briskly in the dark, donning my uniform before my costume.
Over my Supersuit I don Clark's typical wardrobe, a pair of silver gray slacks, a white long sleeve dress shirt, and a brillaint red tie. I finish the look off with a sportcoat slung over the living room recliner, and a pair of comfortable black leather shoes. Nothing fancy, but thats sort of the whole point. I might pick up a raincoat too, but thats largely dependent on the weather forcast.
With that in mind I set to work on breakfast, speeding my way through that as only I can, even as my mind turns to other projects, pulling out my laptop and beginning the rough outline of my newest project.
Recently, there has been a subtle uptick in mob activity in Gotham, and indeed if sources are to be believed, across the nation. Initially I thought this might be Intergang of Lex related, but neither of those quite fits. The technology at play is below what Intergang typically uses, and it just doesn't meet Lex's typical MO. Far too brutal without reason to match his typical standards. Lex doesn't often fill body bags without a good reason.
No, these are signs of something else, something new. Typically, I'd just be happy swooping into Suicide Slums and shaking the answers out of one of the locals, but that hasn't turned up alot of leads. A more subtle hand is needed, and I can provide that at Clark Kent's more delicate touch. With his persona I can hopefully dig up more facts and find out more about this organization, or person as the case may be.
Soon enough Zodiac, whatever it is, will be splashed across the front page, and I'll be holding down the byline...with the bonus of having gotten them off the streets in the bargain.