Clark walked into the diner, picked a random seat by the window, and started replaying the dream in his head.
He had dozed off on the bus, rocked to sleep by the motion, and that was when he saw it. But it hadn't felt like an ordinary dream. It had felt far too real.
When he opened his eyes in it, he found himself standing in the middle of ruins. The shattered buildings around him had a kind of beauty that clearly didn't belong to Earth, but now they were nothing more than wreckage.
In front of him, a raccoon in clothes lay slumped beside a pile of branches. Nearby, a huge bald alien was sprawled in a pool of blood.
Farther away, a man in a leather jacket and metal mask had one leg broken and was trying to crawl back to his feet.
"No... Gamora... let her go..."
The man in the jacket let out a hoarse, helpless scream.
Clark followed his line of sight.
There, amid the rubble, stood a towering purple-skinned Titan with skin the color of a bruised yam, clad in gold armor, radiating a pressure so overwhelming it seemed to crush the world around him.
Thanos.
On his left hand was a massive golden gauntlet, and in that same hand he held Gamora by the throat, suspended off the ground.
He didn't care in the slightest about the corpses scattered around him. His focus was on the glowing purple gem before him.
The Power Stone.
He set it into one of the empty slots on the gauntlet.
The instant it clicked into place, a world-ending purple shockwave exploded out from him in every direction.
Clark could feel that force even in the dream.
It felt like something that could actually stand against him.
"Gamora, my daughter. It's time for us to go."
Thanos turned, Gamora still hanging in his grip, and stepped into a portal.
That was where the dream ended.
Clark had jolted awake right then, every detail burned into his mind.
"What the hell was that..."
Leaning back in his chair, Clark frowned.
He couldn't tell whether it had been just a nightmare, or some Kryptonian prophetic dream suddenly awakening in him, or maybe a glimpse of something already happening somewhere in this universe.
Thanos had wiped out the Guardians of the Galaxy and taken the Power Stone.
But according to everything Clark knew about Marvel, that wasn't supposed to have happened.
And besides, wasn't it only 2008?
The Guardians of the Galaxy didn't even exist yet. Peter Quill should still be off somewhere in a random alien bar flirting with extraterrestrial women, not lying broken in a battlefield vision after being wiped out by Thanos.
"Could this be... some kind of multiverse collision?"
That was the best explanation Clark could come up with right now.
But he didn't have time to go flying into space to check.
Not yet.
He had just started to truly grasp flight only after waking up earlier.
Still, the dream had done one thing.
It had broadened his thinking.
In New York, he could treat people like Fisk, the Green Goblin, and Bullseye as starter-zone enemies, even leave them to Peter and the others as live training dummies. On Earth, right now, he was absolutely operating on an entirely unfair level.
But the universe was vast.
And full of things far more dangerous than street criminals.
"Guess I really do need to spend more time in the sun..." Clark muttered. "A lot more sun. Strong body, strong everything."
He made a decision on the spot. From now on, he'd stay up later and go catch extra sunlight on the other side of the planet whenever he could.
There was another thought in the back of his mind too.
Could he lift Mjolnir?
"Should I sneak over tonight and try it? Pick it up right in front of Thor? That would be hilarious."
Then he immediately shook his head.
"Or I fail and embarrass myself in public. Hard pass."
Clark took a sip of the ice-cold Coke the waitress had just brought him, and then heard an engine roaring outside, along with music blasting behind it.
Sand kicked up in front of the diner as people outside stared at one of the hottest public figures in America right now.
Iron Man.
Accompanied by a dramatic superhero three-point landing, Tony Stark slammed down in front of the diner.
The helmet split open automatically, revealing Tony's face, the kind of face that practically screamed, I'm rich, I'm brilliant, and yes, I know it.
The armor opened from behind, and Tony stepped out in an expensive suit, slid on his sunglasses, and swaggered out of the shell like the whole scene had been choreographed just for him.
Almost immediately, two black SUVs rolled up. Happy Hogan climbed out with a team of bodyguards and quickly threw up a perimeter around the diner.
Happy shoved open the diner doors, and Tony walked in.
He didn't even take off the sunglasses. He just pulled out a checkbook, tore off a check, and slapped it down on the counter.
"I'm buying the place out. Everyone except the big guy in the corner by the window gets one minute to clear out. That check is enough for you to buy yourself a beach house in Miami and retire."
Tony spoke like refusal wasn't even a category worth considering.
The owner looked down at the string of zeroes on the check and nearly had a heart attack on the spot.
He tore off his apron and moved faster than he ever had in his life, half begging, half physically herding every other customer out the door.
In less than thirty seconds, the entire diner was empty except for Clark in the corner and Tony Stark sitting down across from him.
Tony dropped into the booth without asking, took off his sunglasses, tossed them onto the table, and stared hard at the harmless-looking high schooler sitting there with a burger and a Coke, looking almost absurdly innocent.
"Let me guess. The guy who made a guest appearance in Los Angeles a few days ago, treated missiles like party poppers, and kicked physics in the teeth... that was you? This tall, ridiculously handsome, bookish-looking kid sitting in front of me?"
Clark blinked and adjusted the black-rimmed glasses he was wearing, looking exactly like some wholesome kid from a farm family in a red-state county.
"Sir... maybe you've got the wrong person. My name is Clark Parker. I'm just a high school student spending the weekend in New Mexico doing astrophotography. Look, I've even got a tripod and a telephoto lens in my backpack for star trails. Mr. Iron Man, are you here shooting a movie?"
Clark enjoyed messing with people, so naturally he kept the act going.
Tony looked at him and felt tired all the way down to his bones.
He tapped a device on his wrist that looked like a watch, and a crisp holographic display unfolded over the table. It was filled with evidence, calculations, and all the proof Tony had worked very hard to assemble. He had done his homework, and his conclusions were annoyingly precise.
"So. I'm here, just like we agreed, Mr. Clark Parker. Got anything else you want to say? Those black-rimmed glasses might fool clueless reporters, but they're not getting past the smartest man in the world."
Since he had already been found out, Clark saw no point in continuing the act.
He removed the glasses from the bridge of his nose and set them casually on the table.
The instant they came off, his entire presence changed.
Those blue eyes settled on Tony in calm silence, and for the first time in a long while, the billionaire genius felt a level of pressure he couldn't simply talk his way around.
"Alright, Mr. Stark. Since you flew all the way out here to buy me a burger, let's be honest with each other."
Clark's voice had changed too, lower now, smoother, with a quiet weight to it.
"What exactly do you want from me? Do you want to cut me open and study me? Or are you here to invite me into some little private club you built to flatter your own ego?"
Tony leaned forward.
"As for me," he said, "I'm here to make a friend."
That sudden shift in Clark's presence had clearly caught him off guard, but Tony Stark was still Tony Stark. Backing down was not part of the job description.
"Study you? Please. I'm not Norman Osborn. I just happen to have a natural curiosity about things that laugh in the face of physics."
He leaned in farther, staring straight at Clark.
"I want to know what you are. Mutant? Ultimate super soldier? Or..."
Before he could finish, the little bell hanging over the diner door rang.
Someone had just pushed the door open.