1 question...
1 chance...
1 honest answer...

That's all you get. Ask me one question. Any one question, anything, no matter how crazy it is. An honest answer. No catch.

All threads will be locked between the asker and Zoe only.

1. Your Name:
( surveyor wanted )
23. (Individual question of your choice)
If I took you on a vacation anywhere in the world, where would you choose?

[Smallville; One Week after 4th of July celebrations]

Normally, Zoe isn't the type to approach a construction site - any little accident could potentially out her as an alien, and the wolf whistles just don't interest her. But after a discussion with her father, and copious use of puppy eyes for which she only feels a little guilt, she's caved in after two days, and needs to see Tam.

It's a stupid compulsion, and he may have decided in the intervening week since their last meeting to give up. A slim chance, of course, but Zoe still worries. Which is why she's hanging around his work just and waiting for the foreman to sound the whistle and let everyone go home.

[Smallville; 4th of July weekend]

It's eight o'clock at night, and Zoe is locking up the Talon early, because everyone is down in town square for the celebratory party to jump start the weekend. Tomorrow is the 4th and in middle America, being patriotic and watching old John Wayne movies on the square has been done since her father can remember.

She's been working double shifts again, another waitress quitting to run off and marry a rancher from Topeka, and heading down to get lost in the crowd doesn't seem quite as much fun this year.

So Zoe will head the other way, eventually winding up near, and then at the top of, the Windmill.

It's been over a month since Zoe practically barged into Tam's apartment and invited herself over for food. Sure, that's not exactly what happened, but her memory sometimes trips her up a lot, remembering things in a way biased against herself.

For five weekends, she's been called in on emergency, taking over the counter for people who actually have lives, and dates, and dental appointments, and trips to Gotham. And each weekend she's left a message on the Kryptonian's answering machine, trying explain the reasons she can never say no to her staff, or her siblings, or the parental units.

Maybe that's why, this sixth Saturday since she bolted from that Granville apartment, she's back. Standing in front of his door, hand already half raised to knock, and wondering if this is even a good idea. Maybe she should just drive the two hours back to Smallville and tell Sophie to take the weekend off.

No, Zoe needs to knock. Or she'll drive herself crazy for years trying to figure out what-if's and could-haves.

Knock, knock, knock.

Zoe has always liked lightning, a facet of her personality that her mother often attributes to Zoe's grandfather; who, it must be said, has also always liked lightning. There is a raw, powerful beauty in each strike that's always fascinated the eldest Kent, leading to many nights spent outside during summer storms.

It just so happens there is a thunder storm the night after Zoe holds a small, celebratory party at the Talon for Laurel's first front page photo scoop (even if it is several pics of Superman flying over Metropolis at high speeds -- those are really good pics!). She borrowed her dad's old truck earlier that afternoon to get the party supplies down to the shop without arousing undue suspicion, and now that everyone's gone home, it's after midnight.

Which is no place to be, even three miles from your childhood home, when the biggest strike Zoe thinks she's seen to date touches ground almost directly in front of her, almost setting fire to one of the neighbors cornfields. Ordinarily, the blonde would have continued on her way, but she thought she saw something inside the lightning, and while it's probably just her eyes playing tricks on her, better to check things out.

Kent Scout rules.

This totally explains why Zoe Kent is pushing her way through rows of cornstalks at 12:30 am, and looking for the physical signs of a strike that isn't quite as ordinary as every other one she's watched.

It does not explain why there is a naked man lying in the middle of a bad attempt at a crop circle.

"Hello?"

Zoe can only remember being in this much pain once before, when she was eighteen and Jor-El demanded that she go through some of the rituals that he'd put her father through when Clark was still a teenager. She threw up shortly after her first exposure to green k, and it felt like fire running through her veins. Not in a good way, either.

This cage is much worse. She's surrounded on all sides, including the 'roof' and even if the floor is plain steal, there is so much kryptonite around her that all the eldest Kent child can do is lie on her side and watch the man-- entity who brought her here.

Like any good supervillain, he's already revealed his plans for her, possibly because she asked, but Milton Fine -- Brainiac -- isn't strutting around and gloating. He's too busy making sure some of those plans come to fruition, and making backups in case the first ones fail. Zoe knows this because Milton is a genial kidnapper, aside from imprisioning her in the one substance that reduces her to this shivering wreck, and has made sure she can use personal facilities and eat.

There's a bracelet embedded with green k around her wrist, strong enough to keep her docile for the few times she's been let out of the cage. After three days, however, Zoe has stopped trying to formulate an escape scenario.

She's simply in so much pain (you shouldn't scream just for drawing a breath) that she just wants to die.

Zoe isn't sure what pulls her from a deep slumber in the middle of the night, only that she's asleep one minute and awake the next, casting out with her senses to figure out what disturbed her. There's a flash of movement somewhere in the darkness seconds before something explodes behind her eyes and she slumps over.

A shadowed figure tucks away the weapon he used to knock her out with, then gently lifts the unconscious woman into his arms and vanishes from the room with post haste. If he is correct in his estimations, her parents and siblings will know something is wrong within minutes. Thus, when the rescue party does arrive, they will find only a sliver of silver Kryptonite in her bed.

* * *

When Zoe regains consciousness an hour later, according to her internal 'clock', she immediately wishes she hadn't. There is a great cage around her, situated in the middle of a warehouse, composed entirely of Kryptonite. She curls up in the middle of the floor, the first wave of nausea hitting like the proverbial ton of bricks.

"Welcome back, Mara. I was beginning to wonder if I hit you too hard."

Despite the beginning of what is shaping up to be a miserable day (and one hell of a headache), Zoe knows that voice. It belongs to her once college advisor and one of her father's greatest enemies, and is enough to send a real chill down her spine.

"Milton Fine."

Zoe lasted exactly three days on vacation before she cancelled the rest of the week and headed home. The faintly relieved look in her father's eyes did little to combat the sense of guilt she felt for running away and being irresponsible.

So she's back at the Talon, settled at a table near the register in case the staff or manager can't do the jobs she hired them for, going over paperwork for the upcoming week and sipping from a cup of green tea.


[open for rp to any pup from any show. Smallville/DC Comics/Greek Mythology rules and canon apply here.]

Yeah, okay...

"Hi! You've reached Zoe Kent's answering machine. I'm tied up somewhere, but leave a name and number so I can return your call. Thank you!"