Help! It's a bomb! Someone call the police!
Clark snapped his head toward the where the cry of alarm had originated. He and Bruce were just settling the bill from their brunch together. Bruce looked at him in concern, knowing exactly what was going on behind Clark's faraway, but intent, look.
"What?"
"A bomb," he said in a hushed voice. "At the Planet. Looks like I won't be able to name my suit before unveiling it after all," he mused darkly, frowning.
"Go. We'll talk more later," Bruce encouraged.
Clark nodded mutely - just one solemn downward movement of his head. Then he was up and moving toward the exit, straining to keep himself moving at a normal, human pace. He didn't breathe the entire way through Harlow's Spot, until he was safely outside and hidden away in the alley behind the establishment. Except for a stray cat, the alley was deserted. But Clark was far from safe. There was a door back there that led to the kitchen, which gave the cooks quick access to the reeking dumpster that stood there. He had to move quickly, lest he be spotted.
Clark spun into the costume that he wore beneath his civilian clothing. He'd planned on showing the outfit to Bruce at some point, if time had allowed for it. It had felt silly at first, but now he was more than glad he'd done it. Then he shot up into the air and oriented himself so that he was facing the direction of the Daily Planet. Without taking so much as a steadying breath, he rocketed away.
He was too late.
The bomb exploded before he arrived, five seconds after the blast.
His heart seizing in fear, he punched a hole through the clouds of billowing smoke and delved into the heart of the fire. The bomb appeared have been set off in the boiler room, but the building had suffered heavy damage nonetheless. Clark scanned with his x-ray vision as he moved. He saw no signs that the structural integrity of the building had been compromised. There seemed to be no danger of the building coming down. For that, he sent out a silent prayer of thanks. But the fire was already spreading rapidly.
He had to make a decision.
He got to work putting the flames in the boiler room out first, mostly because he was worried that the boilers themselves might blow up from the intense heat. He worked his way up, using his icy super breath to extinguish the blaze that had consumed half of the lobby. The newsstand where he and Lois often picked up a coffee and a donut or bagel was beyond saving – the explosive had been set off directly beneath it. The stand was nearly unrecognizable and it made Clark's heart hurt.
He kept going, checking every floor, putting out fires and helping the trapped occupants of the building to escape the inferno. Finally, he reached the newsroom. Even here, as high up in the building as it was, the bullpen was not untouched. Fire had destroyed patches of the room and Clark had to bite back an anguished cry. Fury ignited in his heart and he redoubled his efforts to put an end to the damage the explosive had caused.
A cough caught his attention.
Immediately, he swiveled his head toward the sound. It was coming from the elevator bank. He blitzed over to the silver doors and, using his strength, pried them open. Caught between the bullpen and the floor directly below it, was the elevator car.
"Help!"
"Lois?" he said to himself, panicking. Then, louder, "Don't worry. I'll have you out of there in a minute."
"Is someone out there?"
"Jimmy," Clark said, his voice once again only loud enough for his own ears.
"Who's there?" Lois called.
"I'm..." He paused, still at a loss for a name to call himself by. "A friend," he finished weakly, x-raying through the top of the elevator car. "Are you okay in there?" The authoritative tone that his voice took on didn't surprise him in the least. It was one he'd perfected back during his nights roaming the streets of Gotham as Nightwing.
"We're not hurt, if that's what you're asking," Lois equipped irritably.
“I could use a bathroom though,” Jimmy added.
"Okay," Clark said. "Stand back. I'm coming down to get you," he reassured them. "I want you to move to the back right corner of the car, okay?" he called down. "I don't want you to get hurt when I cut through the roof."
Without waiting for a reply, he floated up off the floor and through the opening he'd made in the elevator doors. Then he gently lowered himself down to the top of the elevator car, so that he stood atop it. He heard Jimmy gasp as the sound of his touchdown sounded on the roof.
"Okay, I'm cutting through the metal now," he said by way of a warning.
“We’re out of the way,” Lois confirmed.
He checked again with his x-ray vision, to ensure that they were safely ensconced in the corner. Satisfied that they were, he switched to his heat vision and began to carefully melt and cut the metal into a rough square that would be big enough for him to slip through. Once it was wide enough, he sat on the edge and dropped into the car.
"Who the hell are you?" Lois asked, as she caught sight of him.
"You're not a first responder," Jimmy said, blinking in surprise.
"Well, technically, in this case I am," Clark tossed back lightly, to break the tension. "Come on, let's get you two out of here."
They both hesitated only for a heartbeat. Then Lois stepped forward. She looked ready to step up into his hands to be given a boost up to reach the access point he'd made. He simply shook his head. Holding on to both Lois and Jimmy, he floated them up through the hole and out of the elevator shaft.
"Whoa," Jimmy exclaimed in awe. "Cool."
"Who are you? What are you?" Lois demanded again.
"Just someone who wants to help," Clark replied calmly, although the question of 'what are you' had hurt more than he wanted to admit. "Let's get out of the building, so you two can be checked by the paramedics."
"Thanks for getting us out," Jimmy said as Clark flew them through the huge window that was in the bullpen.
Clark felt Lois reflexively clutch at him even tighter as they moved through the window, out into the open air.
"My pleasure. How'd you get caught in the elevator?" he asked, hoping to draw away any more questions about his identity.
"We were on our way back from a story," Jimmy offered. "We were almost at the newsroom when we heard the blast and felt the shockwave. Next thing we knew, the power was out and we were stuck."
Clark nodded. It made a lot of sense, and he made a mental note to check the other elevator shafts in the building, once Jimmy and Lois were safe.
"How are you doing this?" Lois finally asked, looking down at the ground below without any trace of fear on her face.
Clark chuckled. "The flying? That's as easy as breathing," he smiled. "It's something I've been able to do for a long time."
"What else are you capable of?" she wondered.
"Enough to make sure this building and anyone else who may be inside are safe," he replied. He set them gently on the ground and waved over two paramedics. "They were caught in one of the elevator cars," he quickly explained to the men. "I'd appreciate it if you could check them over."
"Of course. Uh...who are you?" the one with Keller on his name badge asked.
"A friend," Clark told him. "Excuse me," he said, inclining his head. "I wish I could talk more, but I need to make sure the building is clear and safe."
He shot away then, zipping back into the building and checking it over with every super ability he possessed. He found two elderly accountants trapped on the floor above the bullpen, and one of the owners of the Planet as well. Clark ferried them out of the building before putting out the remaining fires. Then he scanned the building once more. He found no more fires, not even smoldering embers, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief.
Almost.
He was about to leave and declare the building safe for the firefighters and other crews to enter and assess the damage when he heard a faint beeping. His heart seized up as he frantically searched for the source of the sound. Seconds stretched into eternities as he looked, until, at last, he found it.
A second bomb was strapped directly onto one of the boilers, hidden and wedged between the boiler and the wall. In his haste to make sure everyone in the building got out safely, he hadn’t had the chance to thoroughly search the boiler room, a fact he now regretted immensely. A countdown clock showed fourteen seconds before it was set to explode. Clark ripped the device off the boiler and dashed outside, into the street directly before the Planet. His mind raced as he tried to decide on the best course of action. He wasn't a bomb expert - there was no way he could diffuse it, not without risking the lives of everyone in the vicinity. He could throw it into the stratosphere, but he couldn't be sure the pieces of it might not rain back down on the city below, possibly injuring people, if the pieces were large enough. And the device he held was sizable. He'd had smaller textbooks in college.
The beeping grew quicker as the counter wound down. Five seconds left.
Clark threw the explosive down onto the asphalt and dove on top of it, a cry of "Everyone stay back!" ripping from his throat without him really even intending to speak at all.
A panicked scream rose from the throngs of once-curious onlookers.
Two seconds left.
Clark closed his eyes and tried to brace for the impact. He only hoped his invincibility held up against a direct bomb blast. He wished there was something to grip onto, to stop the force of the blow from tossing him backwards into the air.
One second.
Let me save these people, he pleaded to God and the universe at large.
When the bomb detonated, it was like nothing Clark had ever felt before.
It felt like he was torn to pieces and turned into jelly, all at the same time. He felt the reverberation jar his entire body, hard enough to make it seem like his bones were pounded into dust. His ears rang and his lungs filled with dirt, dust, and street debris, making him choke. Dimly, he was aware that he possessed the ability to hold his breath for roughly twenty minutes at a time. He immediately tried to hold his breath, but it was too late. The wind had been knocked from his lungs. He was forced to breathe in the tainted air around him, and the acrid stench of the explosive burned his already irritated eyes.
He knew he should get up off the ground. He knew the danger was past. But, for one terrifying minute, he wasn't sure he could get up. All around, he heard the screams, once the ringing in his ears died away.
"He's dead!" he heard a horrified woman cry out.
"He saved us all!" That was Lois, sounding awed and shaken.
"Someone go help him!" Jimmy screamed, trying to get the attention of the first responders on the scene.
"He just...jumped on top of that bomb!" a man said, disbelief in his voice.
“What a lunatic!” cried another man, standing behind the one who’d just spoken.
"Is it over?" wondered a woman.
"Are we safe?" asked a man.
"Are there more bombs?" a little boy asked, worriedly.
"Who was that guy?" a gruff man's voice asked aloud.
"I dunno. Alls I know is that he saved our collective butts," said another man, who appeared to be answering the other's question.
“Must be some kind of angel,” said a different man.
“Or a demon,” said the woman with him, a cigarette dangling from her lips.
Clark tried pushing himself up off the ground, and found it to be easier than he'd anticipated. Now that the initial shock of the blast had faded, he found himself feeling no different than usual. He got up onto his hands and knees, coughing, then stood upright, as the gathered crowd gasped in wonderment, and maybe even a little fear, if he were to be honest with himself. Instinctively, Clark looked down and put his hands to his chest and torso, to prove to himself that there wasn't a huge, gaping hole blown into his body from the explosive. He nearly laughed when he found not only his body whole and unharmed, but also his outfit, though the proud S on his chest was a bit dirty. He brushed away some of the grit as he struggled to contain his mirth and keep a neutral look affixed to his face.
"He's alive? How the hell can he be alive?" a policeman asked his fellow officer.
"Beats the hell out of me," replied the other, as she stared, unblinking at Clark.
You and me both, Clark couldn't help but think.
"Who cares?" That was Lois again. Clark could see her near the officers, the paramedic he'd left her with still at her side. He mentally breathed a sigh of relief to see her unharmed, even if logic demanded that she be fine. After all, the bomb hadn't been able to hurt anyone else. "He saved all of us. He saved the Daily Planet. Just be glad he's still standing."
Jimmy said nothing. He simply stood, snapping pictures of Clark and the crater that had been blasted into the middle of the street. Clark looked down and winced at the damage. A lot of people had almost just lost their lives. Shaking his head, he turned away, facing the Planet. Then he dashed inside and gave the place a more thorough check. He did not want to miss anything else that might cause harm to anyone. But there was nothing. Whoever had done this, they must have counted on the second device to finish the job, in the event that the first one failed.
He exited the building ten or fifteen minutes later. It was hard to keep track of time as he searched. He was solely focused on the task at hand. The passage of time no longer mattered. But, eventually, he was satisfied. Stepping back out into the bright sunlight, he took a deep breath, then he strode toward the two police officers who stood near Lois, simply because they were the closest to him.
"Officers," he greeted them, his voice authoritative but friendly. "I believe that was the last of the explosives. I didn't see any others when I was inside the building just now. It should be reasonably safe for your fellow officers to go in there now. And I've made sure that no one was left in the building."
"Yeah," the first officer said in a daze. "Sure. Right." Ramirez, his badge declared.
"Uh...thanks," the woman, Billings, stuttered.
"Just glad I could help," Clark assured them.
"Hey! You there!"
Clark looked over to see Lois trying to get his attention. He nodded at her. This was the real test, he knew. Lois would either recognize him as the man she worked alongside every day and called her best friend, or the disguise would fool her into believing he was someone else altogether.
"Yes?" he said politely.
"Lois Lane, Daily Planet. Which, I guess you already knew."
Clark's heart skipped a beat in fear. She could see right through his disguise!
"I mean, you got Jimmy and me out of the elevator, while we were on our way up to work," she continued.
Clark's heartbeat returned to normal. She didn't recognize him after all!
"I guessed as much," he replied with a friendly nod and a reserved smile. "Are you all right, Miss Lane?"
"Fine, thanks to you," she said. "Listen, I know the press is going to converge on you in about three seconds, but, if you wouldn't mind giving me the exclusive? I mean, a one on one interview, about who you are, where you came from, the works."
He had to chuckle. It was just such a typical Lois Lane request - to ask for the story before anything else.
"You have my word," he promised.
"How can I contact you?"
"Don’t worry, Miss Lane. I'll be around," he assured her.
Later, in hindsight, he would realize it had been a stupid thing to say. The Planet was a mess. It would take probably weeks before it would be clear to resume work in the building. So it wasn't like he could just fly in through the window later that night, sit down at her desk, and give her the exclusive. He would need to find an excuse for knowing where in the city to look for her apartment.
But none of that crossed his mind now.
Instead, his attention was drawn to the members of the media who were converging on the scene, just as Lois had said they would. Crews from half the city's papers, television stations, and even radio news outlets were jostling their way through the crowd. Clark ignored them all and gave Lois a brief nod of his head, before striding away to talk to the police and fire chiefs. He told them, in detail, what he'd seen and done inside the building, and promised to stop by the police station later that day or the next to give his official statement.
That presented another problem. He would need to give them a name to go along with it. They would need to know who they were speaking with, for the record. And he still had no idea what to call himself. But, once again, he put it on the back burner. There were more important issues to deal with.
"Thanks," the police chief said, shaking his hand. Clark knew him to be Charles Marmouth. "We appreciate the help. But, I have to say, you took a real chance there with that bomb. That wasn't some pop gun. That was the real deal. You could have killed yourself."
Clark shrugged. "There wasn't time to do anything else safely. I had to do whatever I could to protect people."
"I'm glad you didn't get blown to bits," the fire chief added with a grin. His name tag showed T. Jarvis.
Clark allowed himself a smile. "Me too. Was there anything else you needed from me?" he asked.
"No, I think we got what we need. Aside from your official statement later on," Marmouth said.
Clark nodded. "Well, if you're sure..."
"Go on," Marmouth encouraged. "I believe the press is waiting for you."
Clark glanced over. The crowd was dispersing, and mostly only the press remained. This was the part he was dreading. He was used to conducting interviews, not being interviewed. He swallowed hard and, squaring his shoulders, faced the crowd fully. He walked over to where everyone was gathering at the police barricades, hoping he looked more confident than he felt inside.
As soon as he reached the wooden barricades, the barrage of questions began.
"What's the S stand for?"
"Who are you?"
"How'd you survive the bomb blast?"
"What was it like inside the building?"
"Is it true you were flying?"
"How did you know about the bombs?"
The questions came fast and furious. Clark's head was spinning within seconds and he was forced to use his hands to motion to the crowd to slow down. To his relief, many of them did.
"I'll answer your questions," he assured them, "but I'll need to take them one at a time." He gave them all a smile, to show them he was being friendly and not criticizing them. He knew only all too well, how important first impressions were.
"Lois Lane, Daily Planet," came Lois' voice, cutting through the crowd, vying to be the first to have a question answered. Mentally, he smiled. He expected nothing less from her. "Who are you and what is it that you want?"
"I'm a friend," he repeated, knowing that it wouldn't be enough. "All I want is to help people."
"A friend? That's hardly enough to go on," snorted Leo Nunk. Clark knew him as an arrogant, sleazy reporter for a gossip rag that called itself The Dirt Digger. "Who are you really? What's the S for?" he asked, pointing at Clark's chest.
"I think that's obvious," Lois retorted loudly. "Seems to me like it stands for 'super.'"
Several people around her laughed and voiced their agreement. Lois appeared to think about what she’d said for a moment.
"Superman," she finally decided. "He's Superman."
Clark had no idea where she'd come up with the name, but he liked the it. It sounded so much more friendly and approachable than Nightwing ever had, although he'd loved that name as well.
"Superman?" he mused aloud. He chuckled. "Well, I appreciate the nickname. Okay then, Superman it is."
To Be Continued…
