His strength had faded, his speed was gone, he couldn't see through a wall if it begged him to, nor could he put any notable distance between himself and the ground unless he decided to jump. And even then, the effort didn't take him very far. His powers had been sapped away, only making a notable return whenever Clark found himself being put on display for whatever twisted fantasy Mr. Dark had pieced together for his carnival.
Clark could have lived with being powerless. This wasn't the first time someone had found a way to take his abilities away and, as much as he hated to admit it, it probably wasn't going to be the last time either. That was okay. Figuring out how to get his powers back usually wasn't a terribly difficult thing to do. It was the invisible leash that Dark had fastened around his neck - the one that Clark couldn't pry off no matter how hard he tried - that really irritated him. Clark could roam the carnival, but he couldn't leave it. Every time he made way for the exit, his feet planted themselves firmly on the ground and refused to march the way he wanted them to. Dark, somehow, had managed to get into Clark's head. He was manipulating him, probably with magic, and there was absolutely nothing that Clark could do about it.
Eventually, between attempting to escape over a dozen times and snooping around in all the wrong places, a few members of the carnival crew cornered him. Clark put in a pretty good fight for someone who didn't have any super powers to support him, but he simply wasn't a match for the handful of Dark's cronies that had decided he was turning into more trouble than he was worth. They put him down, then they dragged him back to one of the train cars and tossed him into one of the cages.
As soon as he hit the ground, Clark scrambled to his feet and tried to shove his way back out the door. He was rewarded with a kick to the stomach for the attempt, which dropped him to his knees long enough for the door to slam shut before he could try to make another move. It didn't matter. Not really. Clark knew that, like this, he wasn't a match for the group of men that had hauled him here. With a growl of frustration, Clark put a hand to his side and flopped back against the door. He didn't look so well himself. Dark hair was matted to his forehead by a thin layer of fresh blood, dirt streaked his rumpled clothes, and the shadows around his eyes made it very clear that he hadn't slept in an extremely long while. Exhaustion, twinged with bursts of pain from his carnival crew encounter, creeped through every corner of his body, begging Clark to close his eyes. He'd rest. Just a little while. Then, maybe, he'd find a way out, or...
Clark straightened up. He wasn't alone. With a grunt, he grabbed at one of the bars that lined his cage and pulled himself upward. In the dark, Clark hadn't noticed anyone else trapped inside of the train car. There had been a few odd shapes here and there - shapes that he had assumed belonged to various pieces of equipment - but Clark hadn't given them much thought. Now, though...
He squinted carefully, searching for the person who had spoken.
"Who's there?" Clark inquired, voice tired and hoarse.