Nicely done.
Clark used that time to take stock of himself. His hands had burn marks on them from grasping the bars of the Kryptonite cage, as did his wrists, arms, and he had one particularly long burn down his right side from reaching for the key. With his powers gone, his Suit was no longer protected by his aura, so it too had scorch marks from the Kryptonite bars. He needed to escape, and find a disguise so he could get back home without anyone recognizing him. It wasn’t often he left home in the Suit without a change of clothes, but last night he had, never imagining the outcome. Escape first, he told himself. He could berate himself later, and find out how Luthor got hold of Kryptonite.
Since Kryptonite is radioactive, it makes perfect sense that it would cause burns on Superman's skin. The descriptions here cause the reader to actual feel those painful radioactive lesions. Brilliant touch about him leaving without his civilian clothing.
“I’ll stay here if one of you could go find Henderson.” Clark didn’t have the energy to run around and find him himself, and hoped that neither officer would question his strength at that moment. He was resisting the urge to sit, but the sun was now directly overhead the narrow alley they were in, and he was starting to feel stronger, the headache lessening, and his stomach had settled. Thankfully, the one officer left, and the one remaining was too busy trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening towards the street, to pay him any attention.
Sunlight is helping him to heal, but the exposure is not nearly long enough. Poor Clark!
The dress pants were just long enough, but a bit big around the waist, and the long sleeved shirt, was the right length for his arms, but also, too large around the midsection. Thankfully, he found a belt, and added the sports coat. There was a pair of black slip on shoes, and a ball cap, which he pulled low over his face. He folded the suit and cape carefully, tucking his boots inside, wondering what to do with them. He couldn’t walk of the station carrying a tattered Superman suit! He quickly undid the belt, untucked the shirt, and stuffed the Suit underneath, moving it around until it sat on his waist. He grinned as he forced the zipper of the coat closed. No one would suspect who he was with a large belly, but he would have to keep the hat low. His face was too recognizable to go without it, and when he’d left the previous day, he hadn’t taken any of Clark’s belongings with him, including his glasses.
Henderson is no slouch, he will figure out that there is more to Clark's friendship with Superman than meets the eye. But in this crisis the laconic detective is the best person for him to turn to. Oh man a third identity! What a hoot!
I like this new angle of the aftereffects from long-term exposure to the Kryptonite cage. Looking forward to see where it will lead all of us.
