#watchtower-feed

   Brimming with adrenaline, you stride to the farmhouse and knock boldly. It's still early in the morning so you expect them to take a while to answer the door. But then it opens and an couple greets you. Already in their work clothes.

    "Can we help you?" asks the man you know as Jonathan Kent and his wife, Martha Kent, looks at you from just a step behind him.

    You suddenly revert to yourself. Your civilian self. "O-oh! Hello! Umm... Good morning. I hope I'm not disturbing you.."

     The old man chuckles a little but it's only half meant. "This is basically lunch time for folks like us." It's only 7:30am. You clearly remember calling at that time so Clark Kent wouldn't be able to punch in for work at exactly 8:00am like he always does.

    "Oh yes. Well, umm... I.. I know your son... He's a..." The couple visibly tenses as they wait for you to continue. You notice this and you wonder if this isn't the first time their son has messed with a supervillain and used them as leverage. "..reporter for Daily Planet."

    Confused looks. The couple looks to each other then at back you. Their brows are raised and it's more obvious now that they're questioning you. Deeply questiong the very existence of you at their doorstep.

    You suddenly snap. What are you doing? You have a plan! You're supposed to be a supervillain! You knit your brows together and stomp one foot in as you push the door the back. Jonathan takes a step back and Martha holds onto his shoulders. You shout at the top of your lungs, "Your son has been getting my name wrong in his articles at the Daily Planet and I demand justice!"

    Your pulse is beating profusely and your whole body is tense. You stare at the old couple but they're not cowering in fear like you expected them to be. Instead, Martha had her brows furrowed and her mouth was frowning. "Oh, dear," she says. She gently wraps her arm around yours, "I'll make us some coffee," and leads you to the kitchen.

    You find yourself going blank as you're seated in a quiant little kitchen with worn-out yellow walls and furniture bordered with pale teal. Martha goes to the counter and suddenly you all hear a loud booming sound that came from outside. It's enough to make you jump out of your seat, ready to run or fight, but the old couple just stares out the window and then collectively shakes their heads.

    "Can you please tell him we have a visitor? And that he should behave himself." Martha looks sternly at whoever it was outside while her husband had already left through the kitchen door.

    You can hear faint yelling from outside and try to listen in. "Oh don't worry about them dear. It's just my son--"

    "Your son?!" you jump out of your seat. "He's already here?"

    She looks at you for a second before she shakes her head. "You told him you were coming but he didn't even think to tell us. My goodness that boy.." Martha continues to mutter about her son while she walks back to the kitchen counter.

    The backdoor creaks open and in walks Jonathan with a huge disheveled man trailing after him. He's wearing a flannel shirt that's obviously two sizes too small for his torso and pants that don't even reach his ankles. His hair is a mess and he's struggling to put his glasses on upright. As soon as he walks in, he narrows his eyes at you, struggling to recognize where he's seen you before.

     Your offended meter has definitely reached its peak and is now erupting. You stomp your foot and point at him while you appeal to his mother. "Do you see the disrespect? He doesn't even remember who I am?!"

    Clark Kent's jaw drops as he looks to you then his mother, then back to you. "You told my ma?!"

     "Clark Joseph Kent!" Martha snaps and slaps his arm with a tea towel. "Who told you you could yell at guests in this house?" Clark is absolutely flabbergasted. He gets another whip with the tea towel. "And why have you been bullying this young lady in the newspaper? What has she ever done to you?"

     You suddenly think about it. You had your chin resting on your hand as you mull it over. "Actually, nothing. I haven't done anything to you," you say out loud.

    Clark huffs as he straightens himself, trying to take back some control in this situation. "I'm sorry about how rude I'm being-- or been but who are you?"

    All three pairs of eyes are on you now and you take your own pair of eyes and look at your hands all the way down to your feet. You're in your civilian clothing.

     "AHHHH!" you burst out without thinking. Hands gripping the sides of your head. After all that research. All that planning and scheming. All that waiting for your scheduled flight. You forgot to come here wearing your supervillain costume. You're a civillian. You're doomed.

    The Kent's worriedly look to each other as they watch your meltdown ensue. All too suddenly you start bowing, spitting out rushed apologies about a mistaken identiy, and taking slow but long strides toward the main door. But before you could make your escape, thick bulging biceps block your path and you look up to find a very pissed off Clark Kent. He's using his other hand to massage the bridge of his nose while his eyes are forcibly closed.

     "Just hold on a second here..." he grits through his teeth. "You can't just barge in here and think you can run away just like that."

      Another tea towel whip hits Clark's arm. "Would you stop tormenting the poor girl? Sometimes you forget you're bigger than a gorilla."

     Jonathan finally decides to step in. "Now, now. How about we sit down and clear this all up over some coffee?"

    "Umm," you finally pipe up. An escape has finally formed inside your head, "I forgot that I really should be going. I might not get a flight back to Metropolis today. So..." You bend your knees to try slip past Clark but he blocks you with his knee against the wall and his face is suddenly closer. You can now very clearly see the irritation etched on his face.

    "Nonsense," Jonathan answers. "My son can take you back." Both of you quickly swivel your heads to Jonathan with wides eyes. "What? You're going back to Metropolis, aren't you?"

    "Yeah, but I didn't exactly drive here..."

    "Pfft. What? You flew?"

    All eyes snap toward you and the longer they stare at you, the more you can feel your insides squirming. You force out a nervous laughter. "It's not like your son can fly, right?"

     Jonathan's booming laughter breaks the tension like hammering through glass. "He can't even fly a kite. I'd drop dead if I ever saw this boy of mine fly."

    Martha laughs along with him and you can see Clark doesn't like being the butt end of a joke. So you laugh too.