I've always wondered what would happen if early version of Clark Kent dived into the wrong phone box. Namely that blue Police Call Box. -- Knitnan
London. The birthplace of the Western civilisation. It was more like a tourist spot that people lived in, now, but that didn't really matter. Clark was supposed to be covering some major deal where the royal family weighed in on an international trade partnership. He was to get as many exclusive photos as he could.
Or, he would have, were it not for an alien vessel invading London's skies.
This was definitely a job for Superman.
They had phone booths here, in the form of the famous Police Call Boxes. He found a way into the nearest one and paused in the act of opening his shirt.
"Er," said the strangely-dressed gentleman at the console inside of the impossibly larger space. "I think you may have the wrong place."
"Yeah," agreed Clark. "I was planning to save the day from aliens."
"Funny, so was I. And with a great deal fewer explosions, if I can help it."
Clark finished buttoning up his shirt. Judging by the advanced technology present, this strange fellow had it handled. "Mind if I take photos? My day job is being a reporter."
"I usually prefer to fly under the radar, but I suppose it can't be helped. Stay close, don't wander off, and let me do all the talking. You'd be surprised how many of them get it wrong. I'm the Doctor. Let's run."