For a moment Clark just stared at the old man.
I don't know what to say...
"You don't need to say anything, I know everything you were thinking."
The old man reached across the table to pick up his cup and began to talk.
"That fool Hughes came to me a month or two ago and started on about how he had 'learned the truth' pure rubbish is what he told me, nothing of what he had 'found out' was anything less than from a story book. For a second he almost made Metropolis out to be like Rome, I could have sworn he had memorized the tale and just spat back out at me."
"So why did he come to you?" Clark had to ask.
"For clarification. He got an ear full after that, I told him off in such a colorful language even I myself am disgusted, but really, I don't enjoy hearing the 'truth' of my city coming out of the mouth of some street walker."
The old man smiles. "Old term, forgive me for not acting this century."
The man slowly gets up from his couch and begins to cross the room with Clark behind him. "I must say Mr. Kent, I know every story of every person that ever set foot in this city and yours seems to be the most...interesting. It's not every day we get an alien in are midst...well, at least until you came along."
"How do you know about me?" By now they were coming up the stairs.
"All in good time, all in good time. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, Hughes. It took almost a full second for me to come up with a way to actually to tell him the truth without blowing his head wide open, so I gave him a 'tour'."
At the top of the stairs, the old man turned to one of the doors and opened it into a long room. Draped along the walls were countless photographs and framed letters. The old man walked past them without even a second thought. He looks back at Clark and says, "I imagine that you can read."
Seeing no reason to hide his powers, Clark quickly covers the majority of the room in two seconds, memorizing every word and picture he saw. The story the walls tell is that of the founders of Metropolis, two men, wealthy beyond imagine, who had built this place as a living shrine to...gods? Apparently the founders were members of some sort of cult, how open they were about it Clark couldn't guess, but soon figured out that how the man had gotten these letters and photos was from no easy task.
So what the book said was true...
"You couldn't believe the look on Hughes' face after I showed that to him (took him an eternity to read it though). But then he had to go put it in his dang book, he might as well have put a giant target on his back."
"So you know who took him?"
"Know them? I was the one who once employed them!"
Suddenly, Clark got the urge to find out just exactly who he's dealing with, something just wasn't right with this old man. He turns on his x-ray vision, and focus' on the man only, but only sees the top layer of skin. The man smiles. "Looking for something?"
"I, uh, why can't I see through you?"
The man exhales and roles his eyes, "I believed you to be smarter than this Mr. Kent. I'm not the normal everyday human you keep encountering. My name is Zavim, one of the last remaining Metropolitan Gods. And you, Mr. Kent, are going to help me save this city."