Clark Kent lay sprawled on the floor directly beneath the window unit air conditioner, wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue boxers. A sheen of sweat covered his chest and forehead. The steady, mechanical hum of the AC was the only sound, a blessed, cold reprieve he’d been savoring for exactly seventeen minutes since getting home from the Planet.

He dragged himself up, leaving a faint, damp outline on the hardwood. He padded to the door, mind foggy with heat exhaustion, and yanked it open without a second thought.

His words dissolved into a stammer. He didn’t wait for a reply, just turned and hurried back into the apartment, leaving the door wide open behind him. The sound of frantic rummaging came from the direction of his bedroom.