[ The call had come in from the White Portugese to Lexcorp, and Alexander Luthor Jr. himself. Their search of the fathomless depths had found something. A demon, the frantic men had said as they wrestled the creature. There was even a video, high-pitched shrieks, inhuman, ones hardly capable of being produced by human vocal chords, but that quickly cut away to a man crying out in agony as razor sharp claws opened up his stomach. There were explicit instructions to hold, not handle, and if they couldn't follow instructions, then that was one less idiot on Lex's secret payroll, right?
By the time the chopper came out to meet the ship, still in route to the nearest bay, the newest passenger was hardly kicking up much of a fuss. Kal-El could hardly move, and each breath was a painful struggle. The men aboard the sea-bird seemed interested in only keeping him alive enough to satisfy some other. In the midst of the panic and confusion, he gathered a name from scattered thoughts. Lex Luthor. What did this man from the above want with him? Despite his increasingly weakening state, he was restrained with strange ties around his wrists, something like the materials which covered a large part of the below, causing strife for things above and below alike.
When the strange metal bird, an obnoxiously loud thing it was, finally delivered the man he could recognize as Luthor, he was barely conscious. Kal-El was ghostly pale, skin nearly translucent from so much time spent below. His dark, curly hair was matted to his forehead, lips chapped and cracking, and ushering forth weak, whines of discomfort with each struggle of breath. His deep blue tail thrashed in agitation against the deck of the White Portugese, and one of the men dumped a bucket of sea water fetched from the side over him. It revitalized him, but only for a moment, gills fluttering as he pulled in as much air as he could.
Despite his discomfort, and the blood from the man he'd attacked nearly a day before muddling the water around him, he refused to show fear. Piercing blue eyes like the sky landed on the other man, dressed far differently than the men of the sea-bird, and he chittered a dangerous sound in his direction. His wrists twisted in their restraints, and there was another low thump of his tail against the deck.
He could speak to him if he wished to. He wasn't certain that he did. ]
for dystheist ♥
By the time the chopper came out to meet the ship, still in route to the nearest bay, the newest passenger was hardly kicking up much of a fuss. Kal-El could hardly move, and each breath was a painful struggle. The men aboard the sea-bird seemed interested in only keeping him alive enough to satisfy some other. In the midst of the panic and confusion, he gathered a name from scattered thoughts. Lex Luthor. What did this man from the above want with him? Despite his increasingly weakening state, he was restrained with strange ties around his wrists, something like the materials which covered a large part of the below, causing strife for things above and below alike.
When the strange metal bird, an obnoxiously loud thing it was, finally delivered the man he could recognize as Luthor, he was barely conscious. Kal-El was ghostly pale, skin nearly translucent from so much time spent below. His dark, curly hair was matted to his forehead, lips chapped and cracking, and ushering forth weak, whines of discomfort with each struggle of breath. His deep blue tail thrashed in agitation against the deck of the White Portugese, and one of the men dumped a bucket of sea water fetched from the side over him. It revitalized him, but only for a moment, gills fluttering as he pulled in as much air as he could.
Despite his discomfort, and the blood from the man he'd attacked nearly a day before muddling the water around him, he refused to show fear. Piercing blue eyes like the sky landed on the other man, dressed far differently than the men of the sea-bird, and he chittered a dangerous sound in his direction. His wrists twisted in their restraints, and there was another low thump of his tail against the deck.
He could speak to him if he wished to. He wasn't certain that he did. ]