Chapter Text
The Daily Planet's office was a complete mess. There were papers everywhere and people walking hurriedly through the halls, looking harried. Clark scratched his head and tried not to get in the way of the chaos.
"What's happening here?" he asked into the general air, in the bemused way Clark Kent often affected.
"Jeez Smallville," an exasperated but warm voice said. "I know you've been away on extended leave but how the hell did you manage to avoid this news? A terrorist flooded Gotham. The guy dressed as a bat is real. Did you just get back from outer space ?"
"I--um," Clark mumbled, actually flustered and trying to think of an answer other than, yes actually, just touched down a few blocks away, but he was saved from having to respond when Lois pulled him in for a quick hug.
"Nice to have you back," she said, studying him critically. Clark shuffled his feet a little, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the direct attention. The office really was a lot after the serene emptiness of space. He opened his mouth to ask her if she wanted to grab some coffee but she was already striding away, heels clicking smartly. "Perry's looking for you," she said over her shoulder. And then she was gone.
"But I just got back–" Clark started, but then stopped himself and shook his head. It was nice to be back. Earth was messy but it was home. He let muscle memory carry him to Perry's office.
"Kent!" Perry barked as soon as Clark stuck his head through his open office door. "About time you were back! I've got an assignment for you." He paused there, giving Clark a chance to say no. Perry was a good man, Clark thought with a smile and a nod to indicate he was able to take it. I guess I didn't need to prepare that speech after all. He had spent much of the time it took flying back composing a list of arguments as to why Perry should take him back.
"What's the story, boss?"
"Just the biggest story in the world right now. Well, part of it anyway," Perry grunted. "Lois is covering the main beats. But you'd always had a nose for the good stories weaving through the big ones. I'm sending you to Gotham with Lois to find them. Talk to the people on the streets, the local business owners, the cops. Hell, the Batman himself, it you can find him!"
"Sure thing!" Clark said, letting the very real excitement he felt show through in his voice.
"Great, I believe Lois is heading out this afternoon. You can get there by tomorrow evening if you have any affairs you need to deal with."
"I can do that," Clark said. "And Perry?"
"Yeah?" the other man grunted.
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it, kid," Perry muttered. Then his eyes sharpened. "As long as you get me my stories." He waved him out of his office.
Clark stopped by HR to make sure everything was in order before stepping out. He found out from Jimmy that Lois had left early to catch her flight. Superman would've preferred to patrol Metropolis a bit but Superman couldn't return the same time as Clark Kent. So he found himself sitting at the edge of Jimmy's desk instead of walking away.
"What's your take on everything, Jimmy?" Clark asked.
"Well, gee, I dunno," the former intern said. He had graduated from college and accepted a full time offer as a photojournalist at the Planet while Clark was away. "Everything is up in the air. No one really knows what's going on. Batman caught the Riddler, but the Riddler still flooded the whole city. It's a huge humanitarian crisis over there now."
"What do you know about Batman?" Clark asked. If there was a story anywhere, it was there. Plus, Superman had a professional interest in this figure as well. Clark had good relationships with his Planet coworkers. It would be good to be able to have a colleague in his other line of work as well. As he had learned from his time in space, it was hard to be alone.
"Um, as much as anyone else, I guess," Jimmy said. "Maybe you remember, but before you left, I think most people didn't really believe he was real. I think Perry even called him just some publicity stunt by the GothamPD."
"So he came out of hiding," Clark mused.
"Well, I guess he had to," Jimmy shrugged. "When everything was going haywire in Gotham. There was a whole web of corruption and the Riddler was killing them off one at a time."
"He stepped up," Clark said softly. "For his city."
"Yeah, s'pose you could say that," Jimmy said.
They talked about other things, Jimmy's graduation, how Clark's parents were doing, but Clark couldn't get the Batman out of his mind.
He had to talk to him.
The next evening he checked into the Gotham motel he'd booked through the Planet. "I wouldn't do that, dude," the guy at the front desk said when he immediately headed back out to walk the streets. "Things are bad out there."
Clark shrugged a little. "I'm a reporter. Gotta get paid somehow."
"A reporter huh," the man said. He put his hands up. "It's your life."
Clark walked for about half an hour before he became aware of someone following him, which kinda surprised him. He'd thought it would've been sooner. But he was a big man even if he tried to slouch whenever possible. There were probably easier looking targets than him, he thought distastefully.
He deliberately headed away from the "busier" streets and toward the areas harder hit. There was still debris all over the street, sewage runoff and worse. It reeked here, and the few people around didn't meet his eyes. At an alley, he hesitated a little and pulled out his phone as if to check for directions.
Clark froze when he felt the gun at his back.
"Gimme your phone," a man said behind him. "And no one gets hurt."
"What is this?" Clark asked, turning around slowly. The man got more agitated.
"Did you not hear me?!"
"Don't you prefer cash?" Clark asked, pretending to pretend to be calm.
"Are you for real, man? I have a gun!" the man suddenly got up in his face.
Clark pretended to cringe backwards and tripped, flailing. He could see the man's finger tightening on the trigger in slow motion but his flailing arm happened to clip the other man's. The gun fired into the air and the would-be thief fell onto the ground, hitting his head. He backed up fearfully, dazed while Clark pretended to scramble for the gun.
The man's eyes darted through every shadow.
"Why did you try to mug me?" Clark asked quietly.
The man spat, but stayed where he was on the ground, defeated and cowed by the gun for the moment. "What, are you serious? Are you some kind of reporter or something?" he scoffed.
Clark shrugged.
"Screw you, asshole," the man muttered. "Gotham isn't just some big break."
"And you love your city so much, do you?" Clark said.
"What else am I supposed to do? Look at this place! I'm literally lyin' in shit. If the people up top rig elections and steal money then what's it matter if a nobody like me does it just to get by?"
"Why do you keep looking at the shadows?"
"Are you stupid?" the man glared.
It was time to go. This petty thief didn't know anything. And the Batman was obviously not showing. Clark backed off slowly and turned and ran. When he got far enough away, he dismantled the gun with super speed and made sure to smear away any of his own fingerprints.
For the rest of the week, Clark wandered around the streets and talked to people. Sometimes he bought someone a sandwich. One day, he helped out at a soup kitchen. It was hard not to get sucked into the very real despair. And it was hard not having much to give. He might have been Superman, but no amount of super strength was going to create nutritious food or medicine for the people around him out of thin air. He heard reports of Batman. The vigilante was active, but he had bigger fish to fry apparently. Still, petty criminals thought better of it when the batsignal emblazoned the night sky.
The next day, instead of walking back out to interview more people and hear more of the same, Clark found himself back at the soup kitchen.
The tired woman there recognized him and waved to him. "Hi Clark," she said. "Back again?"
"Hey Sheila," he said.
There was only one other person there, a youngish man in a grey hoodie and faded jeans. He had rumpled hair and an unkempt beard. He was slowly cutting vegetables.
The woman tapped the other man on the shoulder. "Let him do it," she said, nodding at Clark. "You can wash these." And handed over a sack of somewhat sprouted potatoes.
The other man nodded and handed over the blunt knife to Clark and settled down to wash the potatoes.
Clark started chopping as Sheila hurried off to welcome some other volunteers in. "My name's Clark," he offered.
There was a slight pause.
"Ben," the man said finally. He was frowning in concentration as he scrubbed the potato in his hand.
"First time?" Clark asked.
The man didn't answer.
"At the soup kitchen I mean?" Clark tried clarifying.
"I've been around here before," the man muttered. "Just hadn't helped. Like this before."
They worked in silence until Clark finished chopping the vegetables. The man wordlessly moved the remaining sack between them and Clark settled to help wash them. When they got to the last potato Ben stood and looked around for the woman.
"I dunno how she wants them cooking but we can cut off the sprouts at least," Clark said.
Ben looked down for a moment, and Clark saw that he was wearing contacts.
"Here," he said, rummaging around the tools until he found a peeler and handing it to Ben.
The man sat down again and watched Clark cut out an eye and then an outright sprout. Ben copied him without comment. What a strange man, Clark thought. He was obviously inexperienced with kitchen tools but now was not the time that rich people came down to the poorer areas to "slum" it. Not when there was actual danger involved. Plenty of men didn't care to cook for themselves but yet those men would probably not be here volunteering at a soup kitchen on a Saturday afternoon either.
"I'm trying to come more regularly," Ben said, out of the blue.
"I am too," Clark said. "For as long as I'm in town."
"Oh?"
"I'm a reporter," Clark said.
"Hm," Ben said. "Are you looking for a story?"
"Right at this moment?" Clark lifted the potato in his hand. "No. What about you?"
Ben shrugged. "People are hurting. And I work nights. Might as well do something useful during my free time."
The woman smiled when she hurried back, evidently worried they had been waiting for instructions. "Good," she said. "Thank you."
They both helped for a few more hours until finally it was getting dark and Clark's back would've been aching if he had been human. Ben stretched wordlessly. Sheila offered them some food but they both refused, wanting it to go to people who needed it more.
"Do you want to get a coffee?" Clark asked, as they stepped out together. Ben rubbed his hands together as a sudden chill wind blew by and Clark did the same. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow on the buildings. The moon was just starting to be visible. Ben glanced up at the clear sky and shrugged.
"Sure, why not?"