"Now, if you'd read the fourth line from the bottom of the chart for me Mr. Kent..." the doctor who was examining Clark Kent for possible induction into the Army said.

Feeling slightly edgy because his glasses were off and sitting on the exam table beside him and the only thing preventing anyone from realizing he was Superman was that he was in his underclothes rather than the now iconic suit, he turned towards the eye chart. As he turned towards the chart, he heard a cry for help that sounded somewhere nearby. Rapidly trying to think of an excuse that would allow him to leave his medical exam early, he used his x-ray vision in order to cut down the amount of time he'd need to search for the person who needed his assistance.

"The chart Mr. Kent." the doctor said a little impatiently.

Oh right, the chart...

There was something about the eye chart that didn't look quite right, something that was strongly niggling at him, though he didn't know why. Putting whatever it was aside, he rapidly read off the fourth line from the bottom as he'd been directed to do as he tried to come up with an excuse for why he needed to leave.

"That's...That's quite enough Mr. Kent." the doctor said, sounding rather strange. "You can leave now."

Focusing on the doctor who was giving him a pitying look, he realized what it was that had been bothering him about the eye chart. The eye chart in the exam room he was in was one of the ones with Es going in different directions. The chart he'd been reading off of had been one of the ones that had a bunch of letters in random order on it. A quick peek with his x-ray vision confirmed that he'd been reading off the chart from the next room over.

He swiftly dressed, wincing as he saw the doctor make a note recommending that he be declared 4-F. Despite the fact that it would severely curtail his duties as Superman, and the fact that he made it a rule not to kill, being denied the chance to serve his country stung somewhat, especially since it had happened due to a careless error on his part.

After running into the door on his way out in order to keep up his clumsy Clark Kent persona, he made his way out of the examination center as swiftly as he possibly could without attracting too much notice and raced off to the rescue the moment he was certain that nobody was looking at him, completely forgetting about the doctor who'd been examining him and had declared him 4-F only moments before.

Doctor Smith who'd had an Optometrist for a father sighed as he made additional notations in Kent's medical file before sending it along. The moment he'd seen Clark Kent's glasses, he'd known they were non-prescription. Frankly, when he'd first saw them, he'd thought that the glasses were part of a disguise. Today's examination however had proven otherwise.

The man's act was an excellent one, one that probably fooled just about everybody and had just about had him fooled. Because he hadn't been looking for it, he hadn't noticed the little things, like the fact that Kent had set one hand on the examination table before sitting down on it and the fact that he'd kept one foot in contact with the pile of clothing he'd left on the floor after he'd stripped down to his underwear at all times until later. If Kent hadn't slipped up and recited the wrong eye chart from memory...

Shuddering at the thought of a blind man in the military, the doctor made a final notation in the chart.

"Poor bastard," he muttered as he shut the file. "If I hadn't known any better, I would've sworn he could see."