InsaneJournal

Crash landing on an alien world...
Who? Clark Kent & OTA
Where? The desert outside the resort
When? Sunrise
What? Clark's Arrival
Rating? PG
Status: Complete


The cave air was cool, which distracted greatly from the sun that was still warm from the last days of summer, not yet truly gotten into the fall. It was harvest season, and most of the farm boys within the state of Kansas were busy doing chores around their family farms to make sure that the harvest got out on time. Then again, most farm boys couldn't do the work that would take 10 men an hour in under thirty seconds. Which was why perhaps this particular farm boy could spend his time lurking about in ancient Indian caves instead of doing the work that most of the others were doing before harvest time. Given his heritage, however, it would not be surprising if the raven haired young man actually would have been willing to do extra work to come down here, to see, to breathe in the very atmosphere of something that might spur even the faintest memory of that which might be considered 'home'.

Breathing in softly, he ran his fingers across the ancient cave paintings that adorned the walls, staring at them calmly, his blue eyes piercing into them as if to unlock their very secrets with a stare. But as usual nothing came from his staring, the secrets of the caves, the secrets of his heritage, remained a mystery even to himself. Taking in a slow breath he began to turn towards home when something curious happened, out of the corner of his eye he noticed something, a chip in the rock, a passage way he'd never seen before.

With a quiet glance over his shoulder and a soft breath, the steel blue eyed youth boldly walked up towards the cavern as one to whom fear has very little meaning or sway, and taking a slow quiet breath gently began to tread into the blackness, and yet his hand had reached no farther than to grip a wall when he felt it... a pull, something unnatural seeming to suck him into the darkness. With a grimace he 'pulled' back, eager to free himself from whatever it happened to be that had a hold of him. Was this a trap that had been laid for him by his biological father, or some ability that had been granted through mutation, the youth's mind raced as he pulled...

Only to get pulled back harder. The tugging match only went on for a moment, perhaps even then because whatever it was that had been pulling on him did not realize the force it would take, or perhaps because that was the way it wished to claim him. But whether through surprise or foreshadowing blackness swallowed the youth even as his hands groped for walls that soon disappeared. And in the indian caves in the small town of Kansas, the darkness vanished, like a shadow before a sunrise, leaving no trace of where it had come.

The youth, on the other hand, found himself plummetting, and his body froze. He had a terrible fear of heights, and he was falling from a great distance now, plummeting towards the earth like a bomb yearning for impact. He, on the other hand, did not wish any impact whatsoever, and his arms flailed as he sought to fly like a bird, or jet off, the way the 'other' him knew how to. But he knew none of the secrets of his heritage, held none of the mysteries that might have allowed him to escape the grasp of whatever passed for gravity in this foreign place. And with a loud hollar, suddenly he landed, causing the sand beneath him to splash high into the sky like water after someone flops into a pool.

But even the impact did not slow the momentum he'd been given, perhaps a punishment, Clark pondered in a fleeting moment before impact, for resisting whatever it was that had tried to grab him. The sand shredded his shirt as he landed and skid in a streaking line across the desert sand, tiny particles easily rending his clothes in ways they could not touch his skin. Daring to struggle against it and stand only caused him to tumble head over heels until finally at last he came to a halt at the steps of a building, the ONLY building, he realized, for as far as he could see.

Jeans ripped and shirt literally a mass of hanging rags about his perfect muscles, the Last Son of Krypton staggered to his feet, even as the key indicating room A166 began to glow... Turning behind him, he could see in the white sand that there was no trace of where he'd even come from, what direction he might head to get back to the place he'd been before...

For better or worse, Clark Kent was now 'home'.