Parallel

The jet black haired man let out an overwhelming sigh, a volcano erupting at last after a while of tension and pressure. He let his stiff back hit his cold leather chair as he lightly tossed his glasses against his desk in a defeated state.

“Geez, Clark, you look like hell warmed over.”

Clark suddenly snapped out of his exhausted frustrated state looking at the freckled red haired kid next to him with a grin.

“Hey, kid.” Clark waved, sliding his glasses on as fast as he could without looking suspicious.

“Jimmy. J-I-M-M-Y.” The freckled kid spelled out in a annoyed manner.

“You ever heard of nicknames, Jimmy?” Clark shot back with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course I’ve heard of nicknames, Clark.” Jimmy said with a stern expression, “Anyways, Don’t change the topic. Are you fine, Clark?” He whispered, cocking an eyebrow in the process.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Clark lightly chuckled looking away to his desk.

“Because, Clark, Even though I am your friend and I admire you as one of the greatest investigative reporters alive...you are a pushover sometimes— you let people pick at you for being...well...not the best— socially speaking and clumsy. Did something happen? Do I need to report it to Perry? Who’s the punk huh—“

Clark let out a hearty laugh interrupting Jimmy’s rant. Slapping his own thigh. “I really am fine, Jimmy. You’re a good friend. But I don’t need someone to defend me, I promise you I am okay. I just...” Clark trailed off, his happy demeanor fading from his eyes and mouth.

“Just what?” Jimmy questioned with knitted eyebrows.

“The piece Perry told us to write about— the thunder god— his sightings, his random acts of kindness. How do I write an article on something people know so little about? I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if this guy was just some myth created by people who want two minutes on the 5 o’clock news.” Clark let out huge breath, unfolding his arms to rest on his lap.

“Well, thats what people first said about Superman and the guy is the most real thing ever. Fella has been nice enough to let me take some cool shots of him once in a while. A genuine fella, ya know? Ease up, not everyone who randomly turns up is, well, a myth. You’re Clark Kent, you’ll find a way out of this writing block.” Jimmy patted his shoulder.

“Thanks, Jimmy.” Clark smiled warmly at him.

But of course, that wasn’t the real reason why he was frustrated. In fact, he knew he was real...he wasn’t some “myth”. Knowing today’s world anything is possible and he came to learn that once people with extraordinary abilities started popping up around the time he did. Being in the Justice League, nothing is surprising. Clark’s frustration came from well, the guy being unknown. Not knowing anything about him, not knowing enough. Not knowing if the “god” is dangerous. He wants to know if this individual had genuine pure hearted intentions. He hates how ironic and unfair he was being. Clark went through the exact same thing the day he decided to put his cape on, people didn’t trust him, they judged him before even knowing his real intentions of simply helping everyone. Some people still don’t trust him. At this moment he found himself in a dilemma.

It was nearing the end of the day, the desks around him almost empty. Only a few coworkers remained who had to turn in deadlines for Perry probably. Clark abruptly stood up from his jumbled train of thought and decided to go to Perry’s office.

Knocking softly on the wooden door, Clark heard a grumble to “come in.”.

“Kent. You still here?” Perry crossed his arms as Clark walked towards his desk.

“Listen, I need a extension on that piece I’m writing. I’m kind of in a rut that I can’t seem to be getting out of.” Clark shyly said pushing his glasses back in a nervous manner.

A chuckle escaped the middle aged mans lips, “No.” he simply said, immediately looking down at his paperwork.

“Perry, when do I ever slack off with your deadlines huh? Never. I just need some time to get to know this guy— I mean, time to write about this- this individual.” The slip up left Clark with red ears, avoiding Perry’s sudden gaze.

“You’re obviously struggling with this piece for some reason, so, I’ll make you a deal. Get an interview with him...some way some how. And I’ll forget about the piece, you have 3 days, Kent.” He stood up from his desk chair, pointing at him.

“I- but- okay.” Clark mumbled in defeat, heading out the door home.

The change of plans actually worked in Clark’s favor. He wanted to know his real intentions, he wanted to know why he was here, he wanted to know more about him and what doesn’t work more than coincidentally being given the chance to interview him? Now, he can simply do this as Superman but going down the reporter route seems more genuine and not aggressive. He feels as if he goes as the big blue he’ll approach him in a authoritarian way and he doesn’t want that.

........

“Look, I’m just an investigative reporter doing my job. I’m not looking for any trouble, any leads will help me.” Clark said, letting out a big breath as the man behind the counter kept cleaning the bar’s counter with a wet cloth paying no attention to the reporter before him.

Clark relaxed his shoulders and pulled out a barstool and sat on it and tried again. “I need any information you got or my boss will have my head on a plate. Based on several news articles he saved an employee from your bar— from drowning in the pierre here, a young boy I believe-“

“My son.” The old mustached man interrupted, suddenly stopping his constant cleaning.

“ oh wow, Is he alright, sir?” Clark questioned in worry and surprised at the man’s sudden answer.

“Elias is a tough kid. He’s doing just fine. Look, you seem like a nice guy but you gotta understand me not wanting any more media attention on my boy or this place for that matter. The media can be carnivores. So I’ll tell you just this and hopefully it’ll suffice...” The old man sighed, placing his towel in his pocket.

“I understand, sir. I really do.” Clark understandably nodded.

“The blonde man usually comes here on weekends. To drink a pint or two. So he maybe will come tomorrow—“

“Seeking for the god of thunder, I see.” A deep grumbled voice interrupted the old man, the booming voice traveling to Clark’s ears while sitting on the bar stool.

Clark then immediately stood up making his bar stool screech against the wooden floor, quickly turning around.

The god of thunder himself, looking at him with an amused expression. His arms crossed across his chest awaiting an answer but Clark was dumbstruck to say the least. Doesn’t he only come here on weekends? How long has he been here? He didn’t sense anything not even with his super hearing.

“Thor, I assume?” Clark pushed his glasses back and stood up straight with confidence, “Would you mind doing an interview with me? I’m Clark Kent from the Daily Planet. It won’t take—“

“Yes.” The blonde man interrupted, smiling at the reporter.

..........

[The blonde man was breathtaking to say the least, you can see why people referred to him as a god or is he even a god? His radiance, the sun bouncing off his figure making his glistening skin shine, it was almost overwhelming.]

These endless thoughts and questions kept circling Clark’s mind as he sat across from him on a table while asking his “job” questions. The god caught the reporters eyes lingering long enough at him just before going back to his notepad and writing answers down. It was a linger that that lasted a no more than a second or two after the god answered his questions but he caught them immediately and was quite flattered at how amused the reporter was with his figure and his unique answers.

“What is your purpose here?” Clark’s questioned suddenly in a serious manner, his amused facade suddenly fading.

“You’re going to have to be more broader than that, I don’t fully understand your question.” Thor answered back in an attentive manner putting his beer pint on the table.

Clark breathed in, trying to be more patient and understanding. “What is your purpose on this planet? Why did you save the son of the owner of this place?” Clark lifted his eyebrows at him.

“Why not? I’ve never been for standing on the sidelines and not doing anything about a matter. I’m in this planet simply because I like it, an unfamiliar place where I found a home. But if you want to get down to the gist of it...my home world is gone, turned to stardust in the midsts of space. Half of my people gone with it.” The god breathed out in a saddened state, his big golden brown eyes suddenly depressed with grief that was still not resolved.

Clark’s throat was in a knot and he couldn’t swallow it or let any words out for that matter. He felt like he was exposed to kryptonite, he felt guilty in the fact that such answer came out of his persistent questions. He felt vulnerable in the similarity they shared of the doom of their home planets. Quite frankly...he was stuck and didn’t know where to look avoiding the gods gaze. Gulping while looking at his hands down on his lap.

“Don’t turn all emotional on me now, Clark Kent. Or should I say Kal son of El?”

.........AND CLIFF HANGER!