After work, Jim and Clark sat in the corner bar across the street from the planet drinking a few beers, otheir normal Friday evening tradition. Kent of course couldn't get drunk. Whatever it was about his alien physiology prevents it, but he wasn't surprised. He could get hit in the face with a baseball bat at full speed and be okay. Alcohol wasn't going to stop him. Though sometimes he wished it would. At college he saw the parties and all the fun people were having. It seemed like something that every human does at that age, and watching it made the outsider feel even more separate from his adoptive race. It wasn't easy being an indestructible man, and feeling like such an outsider didn't help any.
But Jim Olson enjoyed Clark's company, and Clark considered Jim to be his best friend, at least his best friend outside his parents.
"So what do you think, Clark?" Olson asks through a sip of ale. "Is Superman a mutant? Or an alien?"
The question catches Clark off guard. He hadn't prepared for these kind of questions from a friend, even though he should have, "I'd say a mutant. He looks human enough, you know? If he was an alien you'd figure he'd look a lot different from us."
"Yea, but the mutants," Jimmy started, he had obviously been thinking quite a bit on the subject, "they usually only have one power. This guy seems to have all of them."
"Well maybe he's a new kind of mutant," Kent lied right to his friend's face. He never thought about this when he was crafting his plan for Superman. He never thought about having to sit across from people he cared about and lying to their faces. It didn't feel good. it certainly didn't feel right. But he knew he'd make enemies in this line of work, and for their protection he needed to keep his secret safe. And if that meant lying to them, so be it. "Maybe they're getting stronger."
"Not a lot of people are going to be happy with that." Jim told the truth there. Anti-mutant sentiment was running high throughout the country due to continued attacks by mutant freedom fighter Magneto. There was even talk of forcing them to register with the authorities, but those measures were unlikely to pass through the Senate. "Tell you what, whoever's right gets a beer from whoever's wrong?"
"Sounds like a-" Before Clark could finish his thought, his phone buzzed along the table next to him. "Yea? Perry? What is it? Really? Outside of town? We're on our way, Come on, Jim."
"Ugh...we have to work on a Friday night!?"
"I'm afraid duty calls, buddy," Clark responded with a worried look on his face. "Some sort of meteor is about to crash land outside of the city."
"I need to go grab my camera at the planet!" Jim rushed out of the bar, throwing some money down on the table for the tab.
"I'll meet you there!" the reporter shouted, before ducking out into the bar's back alley. He checked to make sure no one was around before ripping open his shirt, revealing the S emblem underneath.