2014.01.04 - Keeping Secrets

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Smallville, Kansas
A small town in mid-America.
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Lorna and Bobby had insisted he rest. Rachel hadn't even needed to. However, Kwabena had unfinished business in a very small town very far from upstate New York. And so, on a cold afternoon mere days after the fall of Darkseid, an invisible airplane sets down in a field ten miles outside of Smallville, Kansas, and an old hog comes trundling out of the Blackbird's belly.
About fifteen minutes later, the early model Harley Davidson comes rolling into Smallville. It's rider is dressed plainly in clothing that just might seem more friendly to this part of the country; an old brown leather jacket, an honest-to-God flannel shirt, sturdy Levi's and brown boots. The only thing that truly sets him apart is the darkness of his skin -- the darkness of an African native rather than those lighter tones of African Americans -- and the do-rag that covers his bald head.
After gassing up the hog, Kwabena steps into a phone booth. He peruses the phone book, searching for a particular name and address. And then, not long thereafter, the hog pulls into the Kent farmstead, of all places.
As Kwabena steps off the vehicle, he reaches up to remove the sunglasses from his face. A shiver runs through his frame, and it's not only because of the frigid cold. No, his mis-matched eyes are studying the small house, the barn, the fields, while some sort of inner turmoil seems to run him through like the biting cold of the Kansas winds.
Shift may even notice the freshly dug grave behind the house; a new headstone sits lonely out in the back yard.
"Clark," Martha Kent says with her semi-southern twang. "Someone's here."
Uneeding to keep up with disguises while he's in his mother's home, Clark knows he'd better reach for his glasses. He turns to give Lana a look, while getting to his feet and moving to the door. Not this. Not again.
"No, I think I recognize him," Martha says as she inspects further. "I think he was at the Holidayze." She lets the curtain fall back a bit as she turns to look back at Clark and Lana.
Looking up at Clark from where she had been seated, Lana rises as he does. She peeks out the window on her way before nodding. "He was. He tried to stop... He fought to protect everyone." She reaches out to give Clark's arm a squeeze and smiles reasurringly at him. "I'll put on coffee."
After the Darkseid incident Conner has been practically living at the Kent farms when timing permits. If he is gone it's never more than a few days and every minute he's around and present he's been going out of his way to do things for his 'aunt' Martha and just in general be around for his family.
Conner's customary "I'm back" doesn't happen upon arrival as he's already heard the arrival and a bit of the conversation; he'll ease himself in from around back of the house to where everyone else is casual-like. He's dressed like he belongs after all in jeans and an old white t-shirt that is covered in bits and pieces of hay. Good ole' inherited farm boy look after all.
There were so many reasons why Shift shouldn't be doing this. He tried to maintain a strict 'no meddling' code, and every time he broke it, something ugly ended up happening in the end. However, this time was different. Try as he might to turn right around and get back on that borrowed motorcycle, he finds that he simply... can't.
Not after Istanbul. Not after the Holidayze Festival. Not after this.
Kwabena walks over to the bike's rear end, opening up the small cargo hatch and retrieving a rectangular box. He fights the urge to light up a smoke as he decidedly approaches the front door, cradling the box in his arm while removing the do-rag from his head, exposing skin to the biting winter cold.
*knock knock!*
Clark and Martha's eyes meet as the door is knocked upon. With a nod, Martha doesn't even need to say the word, Clark goes to the door. It opens on Kwabena slowly, revealing a Martha Kent and Lana Lang inside. Clark looks down on Kwabena from the slight stoop that leads up into the house. His hair is a tangled black messy mop of hair. "Hello," he says quietly, almost meekly.
A friendly evade around Lana as she takes up that coffee starting ritual and Conner is poking his head in to the main room with Clark and Martha, "Hey everyone." His tone casual, light and just a bit questionative. You'd think the Kents didn't get much in the way of guests.
When Clark meets him at the door, Kwabena offers a friendly smile. "Hello," he answers. "Sorry to intrude, but, I wanted to ask if Mahtha Kent is here?" He turns the box around so that Clark can see its contents; a pair of white roses and a card enclosed in a simple, white envelope. There's a certain sensitivity to the way he offers the box for Clark to inspect, just in case he's happened upon the film Terminator 2: Judgement Day. Plus, the more that he speaks, his heavily Ghanaian accent becomes more apparent. With a quieter voice he offers, "I wanted to express my condolences for her loss."
The African only briefly glances past Clark into the house proper, unable to hide his curiosity at the unfamiliar voice coming from Conner.
"Oh, sure, thanks for coming," Clark responds, opening the door wider for Kwabena. "Please come in. Can we get you coffee or anything?" Clark leads Kwabena into the kitchen proper. "This is Lana, and Conner. And you know my mom," Clark offers helpfully.
Martha's mouth tightens as she nods to Kwabena. "Martha Kent. Thank you for coming."
Conner parks himself against the wall where kitchen meets the room beyond his arms folding over his chest but not before one raises up and the young man offers a polite enough, "Hello." 
Not much to contribute just yet Conner defaults to that protective kid brother stranger-in-the-house stare.
"Coffee?" That alone seems to brighten Kwabena's expression from the tightness that almost took it over. "Dat would be good, tank you." He hadn't expected to be invited inside, so it's with a brief hesitation that he steps in, following Clark over to the kitchen.
There's another brief moment of hesitation when the others are introduced. Still, a look of familiarity comes across him when Lana and Martha are introduced, each of them receiving a friendly glance. It's when Clark introduces Martha as his mother that the tallest of them receives a curious look from him, one that only lasts a brief moment. "Hello. I am Kwabena."
When he turns to Martha, his expression tightens as well. "Kwabena Odame," he offers, before stepping forward and offering the box for her. Inside, the card is pretty simple, one of those basic 'Sorry for your loss' cards purchased at a Walgreens, along with Kwabena's signature upon the bottom. "Dere ah so many things I could say," he offers to her, his voice tightening like the skin around his eyes. "We tried to help, but... we weren't dere for you, for your husband." It wouldn't take a trained psychiatrist to tell how much of a struggle each word is for the African to say. "Not when you needed us most."
Martha takes the card and the flowers and gives a gracious nod, doing her best to prevent the tears to come. As Kwabena says the words, it's almost as if he's speaking for Clark himself. The man swallows heavily as Kwabena speaks, and his breath falters just a bit. "It's...it's not your fault," Martha's words break what would otherwise be an awkward moment of silence.
Conner's mouth opens then closes as Kwabena talks but nothing comes out and despite how curious he is feeling right now he's being respectful to Martha and Clark by staying quiet and exhibiting some fashion of manners; Letting his eyes fixate themselves to the touchscreen of his cellphone so he stops staring.
"I know." Kwabena's answer doesn't come with much hesitation. "A lot of peopah fought to prevent what happened next. Good peopah. A lot was sacrificed. Maybe..." At this point, he glances away from Martha to capture the others as well, for he suspects that they were all caught up in it, one way or another, even if it was from behind a television set. "Maybe it would help to know dat he didn't die for nothing." His mis-matched eyes go from Conner to Lana and finally to Clark, lingering upon each person a bit longer than the last.
"What do you mean," Clark asks, taking a look to Lana as she finishes the coffee. A cup is poured for the guest first, and in turn is offered to everyone else afterwards. Martha's eyes go up to Shift, but she doesn't repeat the same question Clark has, though she wonders it.
Conner is only pretending to show interest in the muted message sent by Jules Newberry from HALO. His attention is more directed towards Kwabena, Clark and Martha. "Yeah, exactly what do you mean?" The younger man adds in - his voice a bit sharper than it had been earlier.
Right when Kwabena felt like running away. He had no conscience to clear, but he felt the family deserved to know. He's halfway through stiffening his shoulders and announcing his departure, when Clark offers coffee and asks that question.
Kwabena lets out a long breath through his nose, considering it for a moment or two. Conner's sharpness isn't lost on him, but he disguises any response by sipping the coffee for a moment, letting it warm his hands. "De pahson who killed your fathah," he says to Clark. "He had... much biggah plans. Terrible plans." He glances toward Lana and Conner next. "I saw thousands of his soldiers swarming Metropolis. A machine dat was crippling its peopah. He was trying to destroy dis planet." That last part is spoken with a certain sharpness of its own, before his voice softens into something definitive. "I just came to make sure dat you all are doing alright."
Martha nods a few times, "We saw a hell of a scene play out on the news." She takes a sip from her coffee, shuddering at the thought, before looking over at Clark. The young man nods with a bit of a forlorn look on his face. "It was pretty terrible, you're right. And thank you for stopping by, Kwabena. People have been really great to us over the past few days. You never realize how much it means until you go through it yourself."
"Yeah.. " Conner says quietly without that bit of rising emotion he had a moment ago. As if any spark just bled out of him as Martha speaks. Dropping his head down he tries to re-interest himself with his phones message still unable to.
Taking one last sip of his coffee, Kwabena nods his head to the family in general. "You're right about dat."
He reaches over to set the coffee down. "Well, if dere is anything you folks need. I'll be in town, maybe through tomorrow, at de Super 8 on East Broad." He reaches into his jacket, retrieving a small business card. Upon the front, it simply reads "D&P Import-Export, LLC." Upon the back, it has a phone number. However, scribbled beneath it in very fine handwriting are the words: 'There are always reasons for keeping secrets. If you need anything, call.' This he hands specifically to Clark, before looking toward Martha, Lana, and Conner once again. "Like we say in Ghana... 'I taa mo ama'. Have a pleasant evening."
Martha gives a pushed smile and a nod, "Thank you for coming, Kwabena. We appreciate it." Clark leads Kwabena towards the door and slides the card into his pocket. Clark may never need this, but he knows a guy with a cape who just might want to ask some questions of the man on broadstreet. Their paths had crossed paths before. "Thank you for coming," Clark says. "If we need anything, we'll definitely give you a call."
Conner looks up long enough to give an up nod of recognition. "Hakuna matata to you too." He says it in a peaceful tone at least. 
Glancing from Martha to Clark once Kwabena was out the door he releases a, "What? Was I rude? Who was that guy?"
"Sure thing." And then as soon as he can, Kwabena is back on that bike and headed back into town.
Clark pulls the card out and peers at it, mind racing. "He's a guy that was here for when dad died. At the Holidayze I mean. I know him from my time as Superman too. The real question, I think, is what he is doing in Smallville. And why he was here the night that dad died."
"Oh." Conner places his phone away and glances out the window to where Kwabena can be seen driving away on his bike, "Does he know you're Superman?"
Clark shakes his head. "No. I don't think so anyways. I imagine if he's found out then he probably wouldn't advertise it to me. He seems like one of the good ones. A bit mysterious. But I have a high opinion of him." Clark flips over the card, "I think I'm going to need to pay him a visit."
A nod of his head and Conner just takes it as Clark says it is or at from all appearances he does, "I hope so. It feels like we're outnumbered anymore." A tap on his pocket which causes the phone underneath to *clink* with the impact of fingernail on screen as if in emphasis, "I know I just got here but I have to go back to Metropolis again. I'm needed." A quick hug to Martha, a shoulder pat to Clark and a friendly see-ya-later to Lana and the Boy of Steel is already on his way out the back door. "I'll try to be back by supper!" Can be heard shouted.
"Sounds good, Conner," Clark says as the young man makes his way out. "It was good to see you. Look forward to seeing you soon."
Category:Log