07 - Something Funny?

2 days have passed since my arrival here on Planet Terra...

"—NON-STOP POP FM!" The man in the strange audio demon box known as the radio relayed before it cut off to the voice of a woman.

"Okay, so I understand that somebody at some point in time, once looked at a bug on a bed and just thought 'I'm going to name them bedbugs.', yeah—that makes sense..."

"Now, who the fuck named cockroaches?"

"—LADY, HEAR ME TO~NIGHT!"

The taxi driver snickered at the silly jest as I leaned back against the seat with a confused expression.

Isn't cock a species of avian here on Terra? Why is he finding it so funny...

"Ey, old man." I addressed the taxi driver as he turned his eyes to the rearview mirror to look at the back seat where I sat in.

The guy was just a regular Terran that didn't at all look special, sporting an elderly look with graying hairs and wrinkes all over.

I admit, I liked his style—especially the black shades and Viltrumite-esq mustache.

"Old man? I'm only 87-years-old! Kids these days..." He seemed genuinely distraught.

Well, to be honest, I also didn't consider him an old man at all, but Terrans generally seemed to.

"Could you tell me more about this city?" I said, not really caring about his grievances as my eyes travelled to the thin layer of glass that seperated me from the outside world.

"...Hm? Well, what is there to know? New York is basically your archetypal city—but the people here usually live rather fast lives and enjoy their coffee like its some drug." The old man said with a kind smile.

I stayed silent as I considered his words. I had come here for something rather specific, it was quite the distance away from Metropolis, allowing me to operate independently from Superman's gaze.

At the same time, it was also to practise my acting method when it comes to being Lukas D. Kent—the assumed full name of my Terran identity.

It also fit neatly in the backstory, I would be here in New York living with my 'abusive alchoholic father' before child services caught him and handed me over to Clark, thus explaining why I wasn't in Metropolis or Smallville before that occured.

It was a rather convulated story, but it gave me some time to adapt as well as time away from that Kryptonian, so I wasn't going to complain or anything.

"Fast lives?" I said with raised eyebrows. "...Are they particularly fast amongst Ter—Americans?" I said with a straight, hoping he wouldn't notice my slip-up.

He didn't seem to.

"You could say that." The taxi driver shrugged. "Just walk down the street, you'll see that everyone has somewhere to go to and they're not slowing down for anyone else."

...Like a bunch of rats.

"I personally think they're living life a tad bit too fast and not appreacting the little things though, just going through the motions. I would know, I was one of them, after all...and look at me now, an 84-year-old taxi driver." The taxi driver had a sad smile as he said that.

"Wait, weren't you 87?" I asked with an incredulous look.

"I was 95 once, my spirit animal is the Galapagos Tortoise."

"I see." Yeah, I figured this guy was just high or something.

Living a fast live...

I couldn't relate at all, as a Viltrumite, such a thing simply wasn't my destiny.

All of the Viltrumites that I have talked too have never ever once complained about a lack of time.

In fact, time is the one universal thing that every Viltrumite, whether weak or strong, possessed an extremely large amount of.

It could be said that the weakest of our species were the ones who had stagnated. Because of how much time there was, staying the same general level of strength seemed kind of ridiculous.

"Where are you from, kid?" The driver asked as he glanced at a roadside church for a few seconds before returning his gaze back to where it belonged.

"The stars." I said noncomittally.

"Ah, so you're from Mars?" He asked with a grin. "I knew something was off with Uranus..."

"Yeah, he gets around." I said, not really understanding what he was talking about.

Oh, yeah...Uranus was one of the planets in this system, right? A gas giant as far as I remember.

"Pfft." The old man snickered for some reason before he shook it off with a smile. "He certainly does."

He then paused and took a second glance at me. "...Wait, shouldn't you be in school, kid?" He asked with an expression similliar to a responsible adult who had spotted a rule-breaking child.

"This is sunday." Clark had told me that sunday was an off-day for students, so his question didn't make any sense to me.

The concept of off-days was quite weird to me, did everyone get severely injured every sunday or something?

Looking around, that mostly doesn't seem to be the case—aside from that homeless guy on the corner of the street that got stabbed three times in the back just now, yeah, he was the exception.

"Is it really?" The taxi driver glanced at his phone before turning it on. "Oh, it is..."

"I'm going senile." He just stated, completely accepting it as he bore a strange smile.

"What does going senile mean?" I asked out of the blue. "English isn't my first language, sorry." I said to avoid suspicioun.

Senile, it was one of the words that didn't translate over—that meant it didn't have an equavalent in the Viltrumite language.

Despite the great capabilities of the Universal Translator, it couldn't magically transfer knowledge to my brain. If the word had no translation in the language I spoke in, than it wouldn't translate at all.

Yes, I never bothered to learn any other language other than Viltrumite. English would be the first time.

Although it might seem like I was speaking English right now, the reality was that I was actually just speaking Viltrumite—my words were then translated into a kind of 'Universal Algorithm Language' that would adapt into the native language of the listener after entering their brain.

The technology was quite impressive, but the deeper technical matters were lost on me. I just never had a particular need for engineering and computer science since Add maintained the ship for me, so I never learned much of those subjects.

Instead, I was more of a biology and physics student, algebra was my second tongue.

"Really? You are not a native English speaker?" He gave me a third look. "Well, you're certainly fluent."

"Senile means my brain has already been deteriorated from all the nonsense of a long life." The taxi driver then glanced out to the traffic, seemingly in thought. "Get a wife that you can love when you become old enough kid, but don't wait too long or you'll end up all alone like me."

I just nodded at his words without much rebuke.

There was no need to tell me twice, as the last Viltrumite, it was imperative that I continue my bloodline.

"What is love?" That was also a word that didn't translate.

Apparently though, it was associated with sex, but not a direct synonym.

"—Baby don't hurt me~!" For some reason, the old man started singing instead of answering my question.

What a weird Terran...perhaps this has something to do with him being senile.

I glanced to the window, my eyes scanning the streets that were littered by the destitute homeless and plastic debri.

It was weird seeing such a filthy city—even lesser races usually wouldn't tolerate littering, much less the Viltrum Empire.

Then again, most planets had garbage disposal droids to take care of the leftover trash. I supposed manually doing it yourself could be quite bothersome.

My gaze then fell onto the rearview mirror, my eyes scanning the apperance of the 'Terran' reflected back at me.

With unruly black hair slightly lighter than my own, a pair of cerulean blue eyes, and a skintone that was too tan to be me...Luke Kent.

The eyes were blue from coloured contacts that I had Add 3-D print, whereas the skintone change was courtesy of Clark's exotic makeup skills.

My disguise was admittedly not as good as Clark's, but it was natural since this was my first time pretending to not be me.

...Well, not the same version of me?

Seeing these worms walking down the street and acting like they weren't susceptible to millions of diseases left me a bit stunned.

These Terrans lived so carelessly. They waste their wealth on unimporant luxuries, pollute the very planet they live in, and refuse to climb out of the pit of despair that their race reside in...

What does Kal-El see in these things? They are just like most of the universe, an unimportant species.

Would he be the same had he been sent to Planet Qilongga? Planet Namek? Planet Uros?

Probably, what's the difference between one primitive planet and the other?

I wonder if I would be like them had I also been born with the same affliction of weakness...

Probably not, right? I am Lugh.

I glanced out into the city of New York, admiring the night lights.

Hm...maybe this architecture isn't so bad. Certainly better than the Hugoans who lived in massive statues of themselves.

"Hey, old man..." I suddenly noticed something as my eyebrows furrowed.

"Why aren't you stopping, we're going to crash at this point." I politely informed him.

He didn't seem to hear my words.

-—-

Peter Parker POV

Uh...that car's coming right to me!?

That was the thought that shot down Peter's nervous system as his Spidey Senses rang loudly like a siren.

Danger, it was clear in the air and and thick in the atmosphere. Adrenaline started to pump through his veins as the urge to websling away crossed his thoughts.

But Peter chose not to do that, not without his mask to cover his face...

With tight grip over the motorcycle's handlebars, he quickly threw the pizza box held in his free hand before shortly following it to the air.

-Woosh!

Peter snaked through the air as his body spun around like a beyblade before landing behind the car with his knees scraping against the floor, his sticky fingers subconciously attaching themselves to the asphalt road as he released a breath with the rush of sudden adrenaline.

-BAAM!

The vehicle unceremoniously crashed into the motorcycle

"H-Haa..." He breathed out again before glancing up and quickly catching the falling pizza boxes before even a single pepperoni could breach out of their culinary confinement.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he glanced back at the car that had swerved to the left and crashed into a wall, crushing both its frontal part and the motorcyle Peter had just used.

"Woah, how'd you do that!?" A childish voice called out to him from the side, and glancing to the left it was indeed a child.

He was a young African American boy around 10 or 11, Peter guessed.

"U-uh..." He struggled to find a proper alibi for his obviously inhuman strength before. "Workout, plenty of rest..." he glanced back at the kid.

Ah, right. It's a kid.

"You know..." He waived a hand around. "Eat your green vegetables!" Peter conveyed with an awkward smile, hoping the boy would buy it.

"Really!? That's what my momma's always saying, I just never actually believed her...!" The kid muttered in shock and awe as if he had stumbled upon the truth behind a profound mystery.

"Yeah, better listen to her from now." Peter said passingly as he turned back to the scene of the crashed car. He didn't hesitate any longer to approach with a concerned face several other people also did the same, some already calling upon the appropriate authorities.

This was clearly a taxi, Peter was concerned for both the driver and passenger inside, and looking at the wrecked frontal parts, it would be the driver that would suffer the most.

He took a quick peek but then furrowed his eyebrows as his lips couldn't help but quiver in confusion.

Huh?

There was no one inside the car.

-—-

His POV

So that's what senile meant...

Really, it's just a fancy word used as an excuse for having a deteriorated brain, I couldn't contain myself from lampooning as I held the old man high up in a princess carry, my body levitating in the air high enough to not be vicible from down below the streets.

"Oh, dear." The old man said calmly as he held my right shoulder with both of his hands as he looked down. "I'm even hallucinating now..."

I looked at him with a strange expression before scoffing. "You are clearly not suited for this occupation, go be a floor cleanser or something."

"Tch, kids these days and their lack of manners..." The old man shook his head. "Don't you know I'm also a janitor? They use to call me journeyman because I have 72 jobs."

I dropped him.

"AAAAAH!" Such a familliar sound, it almost brought me back home. I remembered the times we had to learn how to fly.

Just like how Terran infants had to learn how to walk, Viltrumite children had to learn how to fly.

It was quite simple, just drop the baby—it'd probably fly.

...If it couldn't, then too bad.

Unfortunately, all Terrans were lost causes. I sighed before bringing my knees up, kicking the air behind me as I propelled through the air.

"—HAAAA!" I clamped my fingers around the collar of the old man's shirt before moving to the side to avoid any public detection, and eventually landing on a secluded rooftop, dropping the old man to the floor.

"Ho." He coughed before immediately getting as he shook the dust and debri accumilate on his shirt. "Such intense hallucinations, I think this is what they call...uh, I forgot what it's called."

I stared him.

He glanced up as he scratched his back, his eyes searching for the young man who had carried him.

Hm, he's gone, I'm gone.

=== [A/N]

Sorry for the short chapter! I have been quite busy these past few days, here is a free Fanfic idea from my mind for recompense.

Feel free if you want to use it, I don't mind—though please tell me if you do.

[FANFIC IDEA OF THE DAY]

Fate/Visionary: Before the events of Fate/Zero starts, Kirei Kotomine is sent by the Church to investigate a heretical group of deviant Magi cultists who all worship a 'Slumbering Evil God' foretold to one day bring the apocalypse.

He is successful in disbanding the group, but after doing so, Kirei encounters an unusual artifact of obviously malignant origins in the cult's treasury.

Kirei, being the hollow person that he was, ended up completely shocked and mystified by the object as he started to actually feel proper emotions when in proximity to the object.

Hooked, he ended up keeping the object for himself without telling the Church. As the months go by, he progressively became more and more like an actual person, emotional and happy.

Kirei felt great gratitude and regarded this as a miracle of the lord, but then, the young Priest started to hear faint whispers at the back of his mind.

These whispers were nothing serious at the start, but as more months go by, they became manic ravings, whispering heretical beliefs and blasphemous truths to his mind.

Kirei went mad, but due to his acting skills, no one noticed.

Eventually, he becomes a Master in the Holy Grail War just like in the usual timeline. But by this point, Kirei wasn't just Kirei anymore.

He had become a projection of the 'Slumbering Evil God', who now resided in his body, fully intent on a revival plan to wake up "His" true body.

To do this, "He" needs to solidify the connection between "His" true body and Kirei's body via special boons so that they eventually fuse into one. The boons being based on the Sequences of the Visionary Pathway from LOTM, as well as the other Pathways from the God Almighty group.

"He" was none other than our true protagonist...

The Primordial One, Abzu.

Bonus points for Tiamat waifu.

Suddenly got this idea when I saw Bleap making a fic with a Tiamat cover, so shout out to him. I am indeed that down bad it seems.