>>1631351
>Actually, you’re spending the summer with some friends, who are from far from out of town

>>1631351
>>Heading into the city to get the lay of the land before you move there for your internship.

Waiting for at least another vote to tip the scales before I write the next update. Going to grab a late dinner.

>Heading into the city to get the lay of the land before you move there for your internship.

>>1631351
>Actually, you’re spending the summer with some friends, who are from far from out of town.

Back!

...

Okay, next vote settles it.

>>1631351
>>Actually, you’re spending the summer with some friends, who are from far from out of town.

Writing.

And not just for any old trip. You’ll be spending this summer with some friends.

Well, not your local friends. Actually these friends are from pretty far from out of town. Summer before last they passed through town on a trip and you gave them a hand with a small problem while they were waiting for help fixing their ride.

That in mind, you zip your bag and then fish out your lock box from beneath the floor board.

Inside are the things that you keep out of sight. Well, your folks know where it is just in case, but it’s only hidden in case anyone comes calling for you that you’d rather didn’t find these things.

The wrought metal box has rusted hinges with almost no lubrication. Most could lose a whole day working on this box bare handed and not get it cracked open even with the key.

Well, one click and you set your fingers right and apply just enough pressure. It slowly creaks and wrenches open revealing three simple items. Three treasures.

A slim white stone, pointed on either end and crystal facets.

A flat piece of matte gray metal, a shield shaped pentagram.

And the one you come for today, a golden ring. The gift left you by friends who until days ago seemed a distant and foggy memory.

Taken from your reminiscing by a staccato series of honks outside, you snatch up the ring and sling your bag over your shoulder. Returning the box to its hiding place you head downstairs.

Ma is cleaning up after breakfast, she gives you a brief but tight hug. Sad that you’re going away but proud all the same. She gives you a basket of brownies to bring when you go see your friends. You can’t dawdle though, as the horn honks again.

When you get outside, you see your first of two rides being scolded by your Pa. Pete should have known better than to make such a ruckus so early. Your Pa of course waves the two of you off with a smile and a warning to you not to get into trouble.

“Hey, as long as he’s with me I promise no trouble,” Pete says with a hand over his heart as he gets out of the car and pops the trunk of his junker.

“Well that settles the next couple of hours,” you shake your head and throw him your bag.

It isn’t long until the two of you are on the road, Pete’s driving you to damn well near the middle of nowhere for the rendezvous with the second leg of your journey. And getting there takes you right through town first.

Those who are up wave at the two of you as you pass on by. One or two offer slightly sterner looks, even though you try not to be you and Pete are occasional troublemakers. Pete by design for mischief and you on account of you adjusting to this and that.

>Turn up the Radio, loud rock and roll to draw just a few more disapproving stares on your way out.
>Ask Pete to stop at the Antique Shop, you want to say goodbye to her before you leave town.
>Chat with Pete about what you’re about to do. You’re a little apprehensive about leaving Smallville.

>>1631774
>Ask Pete to stop at the Antique Shop, you want to say goodbye to her before you leave town.

>>1631774
>>Ask Pete to stop at the Antique Shop, you want to say goodbye to her before you leave town.

“Hey, can we stop at Potter’s before we leave town?” you shoot a glance over to Pete with a hopeful grin.

He sighs.

“You’re hopeless,” he offers, though you’d disagree.

Down the main drag of town, Pete’s car comes to a stop in front of Potter’s Antiques and Electronics Repair. She’d be putting up pick up orders today, getting ready to open up her uncle’s shop.

As you push the door open, it knocks the overhead bell with a quick reverb.

She’s at the counter setting a box down before she turns to look at you.

“Morning, Clark,” she smiles as you fidget a bit nervously, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, well,” you scratch the back of your head, “I’m leaving town for a few weeks and wanted to stop in and-”

“Taking a summer trip?” she questions and leans back against the counter.

“Something like that, I just wanted to stop in and say goodbye,” you explain while wishing you had something to fidget with, “And maybe ask you to county fair when I get back?”

Pete throws his arm across your shoulders from behind.

“Lana, please take pity on my boy here and put him out of his dang misery,” he jokes at your obvious discomfort.

Seriously, it was easier to confide in her about what was going on with your eyes in the seventh grade than talking to her today.

She shakes her head at the two of you and approaches as Pete disentangles himself from you.

“Sorry Clark,” she says with a downcast glance, “I’ll be with my dad on a dig August through September. He got a grant and permission to do a survey and excavation in Bialya. This is the first time he’s asked me to come with him, and you understand? Right?”

“Yeah. Course,” you nod sharply.

>>1631926

Lana’s dad is hardly ever around; as an archeologist he’s always somewhere digging up something and you know she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to spend time with him. And if he asked her to come with him, he might be finally realizing not to take his daughter for granted.

You aren’t happy, not that you’d show it, but you more than understand.

“Well, in that case please say hi to your pop for me,” you nod firmly and smile, “Well, we better go, gotta keep on time and all,”

“Goodbye Clark,” she smiles softly, “Maybe when I get back we can do something?”

“Yeah,” you smile broadly, “Sounds like a plan,”

As you and Pete get back on the road, you friend shakes his head.

“Crash and burn, Kent,” he leans into the pedal as you leave main street and town behind, “Crash and burn,”

You answer him with conspicuous silence. When both you and Lana are going to be back in town at the same time you’ll be about to head off to Delaware for your internship. Halfway across the country. Well, that isn’t as far apart as the two of you are about to be. She’ll be heading across the world and you’ll be heading…

Well it isn’t exactly a matter of distance where you’ll be going.

Pete takes in your quiet under the roar of his engine. Easing off the gas you pulls down his sun visor and fiddles with a few discs.

“Metallica or Def Leppard?” he questions as an olive branch.

“Metallica,” you say.

Quiet, aside from music, then keeps until the end of Master of Puppets. Where in Pete seems to again have had enough.

“Don’t let yourself be so hung up on this town, Clark,” Pete offers solemnly, “Get out there and live a little, you were always too big for this one note town,”

The two of you go back and forth for a while. Arguing for and against Pete’s point about what you should be doing and where you should be going. He knows how hesitant you’ve been about leaving town even for this trip, even for your internship...even though both are temporary.

And so you drive on.

>And arrive without incident at the rendezvous
>Until you hear something, trouble at a rail crossing!
>Dozing off to the music and the relaxing rumble of the engine.

>>1631929
>Dozing off to the music and the relaxing rumble of the engine.

>>1631929
>>Until you hear something, trouble at a rail crossing!

Writing. Combining

Conversation eventually ends on a high note as you start getting onto back roads between stretches of farm and forest. Pete fumbles with the printed directions every so often, complaining about a lack of mile markers as the music just gets you.
The rumble of the engine and the echoes of each part pumping, spinning, and burning lulls you as well. Before long you’re a stone under, dead asleep.

And for a short while you dream. Senses floating among fractals and drifting through errant half memories.

You dream of the stars. Of distant light and inertia. Of a cold loneliness in the nothing until the blue earth comes into view, as you helplessly careen toward it. Engulfed in flame and the ground approaching fast.

Course, you don’t hit the ground...but a baseball hits the side of a black Rolls. Fanciest car you’ve ever seen to this day as your perspective shifts. A closer memory when you and Pete went hunting for a ball you hit just a tad too high and hard. Big black car had been broken down on a road two fields over from the sandlot, driver working on the motor while the most haunting kid you ever did see slowly examines the half gutted baseball.

You don’t quite dream like everyone else, you’re passively aware that you’re dreaming...just drifting through twisting fractals and catching glimpses of memories gone by. That one falling to earth always filled you with such a mighty question and worry, until you talked to Pa and he showed you-

There’s a distant sound of wrenching metal and and a cry that pulls you from the dream. Jerking up and forward. There’s a wicked frantic train horn in the distance.

“Pete! Stop the car!” you call out in alarm, and your friend obliges.

He hasn’t fully stopped as you open the door and step out, dirt road warping beneath your feet as you take off like a shot out of hell. Running, half leaping over ditches and ravines amid the untilled wood until you break into the next field acres later in seconds flat as you take in the scene of a railroad crossing.

Domino crash of cars pushed a station wagon into the crossing and through the gate, flushed the driver’s side against the next gate and front of the car that hit it clamps on the passenger side. Engineer of the freight train sees it clear as day and is already on the brakes, but you can tell that it won’t slow down in time at the going rate.

This is instinct, to do something. To help.

>Just get the drivers and any passengers out, downplay what you can do so it can be chalked up to adrenaline
>Push both cars out of the way. They’ll probably see you, and this isn’t Smallville...people might talk.
>Get in front of that train, Clark, you’ve never done anything like it but maybe you can help the train stop in time.
>Write in

>>1631454
>get to the city

>>1632083
>Just get the drivers and any passengers out, downplay what you can do so it can be chalked up to adrenaline

>>1632084
Little late there, friend, but please be welcome all the same to our increasingly obvious little tableau.

>>1632091

Might wanna run earlier next time, Kellex.

I'm gonna head off to bed cause of this headache I have.

Writing, last update of the night.

File: Cosmic Boy.jpg (29 KB, 500x500)

29 KB JPG

You’ll play this one close to the chest, dashing forward while anyone who might be looking is still distracted and slowing down as you make the scene proper. Pushing up the intact gate alongside the station wagon.

It's too easy, but not unbelievable as you pull hard on the door as the man inside frantically pushes it. It comes off, right off the hinges at that, as you help the man and his passenger scramble to safety before you dart across the tracks to the other car.

The sedan that slammed into the station wagon was definitely already in disrepair. Its driver seizing against the deflating airbag; probably what caused the accident in the first place. Without another care, you rip their seatbelt in your hand and pull them from the car just as the screeching avalanche of steel tears through both vehicles.

Though this isn’t the end of things. One of the train cars down the line looks to have tipped. In the distance you can hear Pete shouting as you look up and see it. A wall of pipes launching and tipping loose toward you and the still seizing driver.

With the train between you and the others, no one will see if you shield the still tremor ridden stranger with your body...but you have no idea if you can withstand that kind of punishment.

And don’t want to risk hurting this person by speeding away as you’d have to.

Turning your back to oncoming death, you curl over the shaking driver.

That death, never comes.

Instead, you hear a strange reverb. Like a magnet held up to a car speaker. And then the sound of steel hitting earth as piping falls around you, but not on you. Turning back, you see a figure floating down from above with an outstretched hand. Clad in purple and black.

“Rokk!” you call out to in surprise.

“Hey Clark, you were running a bit late so I came to see how you were,” your friend from far far away replies.

Session End.

So, any feedback for A Man for Tomorrow Quest?

Dang it, late to the party.

>>1632141
None yet, interesting topic to take on.

>>1632141

Maybe make it a bit more clear what this is about. Or have a cape-related OP pic.