I've started working on this, and as usual, it's being as difficult as possible in the set-up. I figured if I posted what I have, maybe a little nagging will kick my muse's lazy bu -- um, stimulate my muse's inspiration and get things moving a little faster, so here's the first part. Let me know what you think.
Disclaimer: The recognizable characters and settings in this story are the property of D.C. Comics, Warner Bros., December 3rd Productions, et cetera, and no copyright infringement is intended. Any original characters, scenes, dialogue and the story itself belong to me.
As is probably obvious from the title, this is the sequel to "Supercop".
Supercop II: The Black Knight
By Nan Smith
Part 1
"Hey, Bill!"
Crossing the parking lot, William Henderson turned at the hail. Norma Randall waved and increased her speed to a half-trot as she hurried across the pavement toward him.
"Getting back a bit late, aren't you?" he asked, glancing at his watch. It was five minutes before the start of the day shift. Together they ascended the two steps to the Precinct and Henderson pushed open the door for her.
"Yeah," Norma said. "The Midtown Rapist struck again. Or nearly."
"What happened?"
"Apparently he pried open a woman's bedroom window and tried to assault her," Norma said. "Unfortunately for him, her boyfriend was in the bed, too. Guy took the knife away from the assailant and started pounding on him. The boyfriend's a weight-lifter, it turns out. The attacker managed to push him off and got out the window again, but he left blood on the sill and drops all the way down the sidewalk."
"Sounds like he left some evidence behind, this time," Henderson said.
"You could say that," Norma said. "Anyway, I took the report. When I left, Forensics was going over the crime scene with a fine-tooth comb, and Wolfe was there, talking to the near-victim and her boyfriend." She yawned. "I'll be glad when I'm off the night shift."
"Don't blame you," Henderson agreed. "Better file your report and check out. The guys in charge are complaining about people taking too much overtime again."
"Somebody should remind them that the bad guys don't have set hours," Norma said, through a wide yawn that she covered with one hand. "I guess I'll see you later."
"Night," Henderson said. He headed down the hallway toward his office. Without difficulty, his super-hearing picked up the commotion of the day shift coming on and the night shift getting ready to depart. Somewhere in the background, a police radio was reporting a driver going east in the westbound lane of the Seaside Parkway and he grimaced. It sounded to him as if some citizen of Metropolis was getting an early start on the upcoming holiday season. Halloween would be rolling around in a few days, and right after that the Christmas shopping season would begin in earnest.
Another radio report announced the arrival of Superman, and the capture of the wrong-way motorist. It looked as if Kent was on top of things this morning, he thought. In the three months since his acquisition of Superman's powers, Henderson had gained a deeper understanding of the way Clark Kent managed to juggle the events of his life in order to maintain two identities, and thereby his privacy. As a matter of fact, his personal juggling act was getting pretty decent. At least so far, no one appeared to suspect that their own Inspector Henderson might have another side to his personality ...
Well, time to get on with the business of the day before someone needed the Black Knight's services. He glanced again at his watch and had to remind himself for the umpteenth time in the last month, that things would happen when they were ready to happen. Sue's obstetrician had told her three days before that she could go another week, at least. Still, as one of his married acquaintances had mentioned before, the ninth month was always the longest. Sue would let him know if anything started to happen.
He hung his jacket on the hook behind his office door and ambled down to listen to the morning briefing before the day shift commenced. If he had to take off suddenly -- as always seemed to happen recently -- it would be just as well to let people see him first, and establish that he was here. That was just one of those little hints that Kent had passed along to him. "Perception is everything," he repeated to himself. If everyone perceived that he was here when the Black Knight was handling an emergency across town, people wouldn't connect the two. It was something that he had learned to live by.
**********
Lois Lane glanced around the crime scene with apparently no more than professional interest. The Midtown Rapist as the Planet had dubbed him, had run into trouble here -- a lot of trouble. He hadn't expected the presence of the boyfriend, and left a contact lens, a torn, bloody glove and a weapon with a fingerprint on the blade at the scene. That was a lot of evidence, but if the man had never had the misfortune to cross the path of the Metropolis police force before, those things might not matter. Cooperation between the police forces of different states was sketchy, and even if the guy had been in trouble elsewhere, New Troy might not necessarily know about it. On the other hand, the Metropolis Police Department didn't have Jimmy Olsen on its staff. Clark had always said that Jimmy should be working for the FBI, and Lois was inclined to agree. The first thing she was going to do when she got back to the office was to set him to work on the problem.
Sharon Langford, who had been the rapist's target, was in her kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. She was still wearing pajamas and a bathrobe, since the police wouldn't let her back into her bedroom to get anything else to wear until they were finished with their work. Lois took one last look around the bedroom and strolled casually into the kitchen. The woman turned as she entered.
"Hi," Lois said.
"Hi." The intended victim was probably about Lois's age and build. Her dark hair was mussed, and Lois could see the lines of strain on her face. "Are you a cop?"
"No. I guess I should have introduced myself. I'm Lois Lane, from the Daily Planet."
"Glad to meet you." The woman didn't sound all that glad, Lois thought, but she could hardly blame her. "I guess you're going to report on this, huh?"
"Well -- yes. Some of it, anyhow. Detective Wolfe asked me to keep part of it under wraps. They don't want their suspect to realize how much they know. And I won't give your name." Lois looked at the woman with some sympathy. It had to be a frightening thing to realize that the man who had broken into her home must have been watching her for days, and that only the unexpected early return of her boyfriend from his business trip had saved her from the fate of several other women before her. "How do you feel?"
"I guess it hasn't really hit home yet." The woman took a gulp of coffee and winced at the heat. "If Vern hadn't been here --"
"Yeah," Lois said. "I hear you. It sounds like he gave the creep what he deserved, though."
"Uh huh. But what about next time?"
Lois made a face. "I know. We've got a pretty good police force, though, and he left behind a lot of evidence this time. And he may go on to someone else -- not that that's any better."
For the first time, she saw some of the other woman's control slip. Her eyes filled with tears. Lois stepped forward. "Why don't you sit down? Do you need to call work or anything -- tell them you aren't coming in today, or something?"
She shook her head. "I work the afternoon shift, but I have to be there. I've used up all my sick time. I had the flu two weeks ago."
"If it's any reassurance," Lois said, "judging by what Wolfe's people found, he thinks that whoever this guy is, he's probably going to be out of circulation for a little while. You shouldn't have to worry about him for a few days, and maybe they'll get him in the meantime." She looked around the tiny kitchen. "It's too bad Mr. Carson couldn't stay. You'd probably feel better with him here."
"Vern had to go to work. He didn't want to." Sharon sank into a kitchen chair. "I hope Detective Wolfe is right."
"So do I," Lois said. "Tell me, have you noticed anyone hanging around watching you the last few days? Or anything unusual at all?"
The other woman shrugged. "The police already asked me that. I don't know, really. I could say I had a creepy feeling when I came home night before last. Vern usually walks me home because I live in this section of town, but he'd left on that trip, so I was a little nervous when I came in. I was nervous last night, too -- only then Vern showed up. He'd caught an early flight and got in at midnight. I guess whoever this guy is, he didn't know that."
"I guess not," Lois said. "Maybe you should stay at his place for a while until they catch the rapist. They will, eventually, if he keeps this up."
"I might," Sharon said. "We're engaged. Vern's wanted me to move in with him for months, but it just doesn't seem right until we're actually married. I'm being silly, I know."
"Well, it wouldn't have to be forever," Lois said. "And if it makes you feel safer --"
"Believe me, I'm thinking about it," Sharon said. "I'm going to talk to him about it tonight."
"Is there anything you noticed about the guy in particular?" Lois asked. "Did you see anything while he was fighting your boyfriend?"
"Not a lot," Sharon said. "It was pretty dark. There was one thing, though --"
"What was it?"
"Well, I don't know if it means anything," she said. "Vern grabbed the hand holding the knife -- they fought over it. That was how the glove got slashed like that -- and the guy's hand, too. He was wearing a wedding ring. Just a plain, gold one."
"Did you tell the police?" Lois asked.
"I didn't think of it," Sharon admitted. "Do you think I should?"
"Definitely," Lois said. "Any piece of information could help."
"Tell us what?" a voice behind her asked. Lois turned to see the dark, narrow face of Detective Wolfe.
"Ms. Lane reminded me," Sharon said. "When Vern was fighting him and the glove got torn off -- he was wearing a plain, gold wedding ring. The other man, not Vern."
Wolfe removed a tattered notebook from his pocket and made a notation. "Thanks," he said. "Anything else you think of, call the number on my card."
"I'll do that," Sharon said. "If I remember anything at all, you'll be hearing from me."
Lois removed the notebook from her pocket for the umpteenth time since she had arrived at the scene. "Can you give me a quote I can use, Detective Wolfe? It'll help fill out my article."
"Just a warning for people in Metropolis, in general," Wolfe said. "Tell women who live alone -- or that have significant others that travel -- to be sure their windows and doors are secure. I realize we're having a heat wave right now, but being a little hot is better than having someone like this character getting inside their houses. They can always buy a fan."
"That's for sure," Lois said. "I'll be sure to include it in the article."
A short time later, Lois pulled the Cherokee into her spot in the Daily Planet's underground lot. She'd been covering the exploits of the Midtown Rapist since his first appearance two months ago, and the man was beginning to thoroughly irk her. If Ultra Woman got hold of him, she hoped she would be able to restrain herself, but it might be a close thing. It was becoming obvious to her that the guy really hated women, and the thought that he might be married bothered her more than she wanted to admit. The thought of the kind of home life he and his wife must have made her shudder.
From somewhere a whoosh of air blew her hair about and then her husband's voice said from beside her, "You look like you're thinking pretty hard about something."
"Yeah, sort of. The Midtown Rapist was busy last night."
Clark scowled. "Again? Was anybody badly hurt?"
"Actually, he might have been. We can always hope, anyway." She went on to describe what had happened.
Clark listened in silence and then nodded. "With any luck, it'll stop him long enough for Wolfe to track him down."
"Well, we might be able to help," Lois said. "Other than the usual superhero stuff, I mean," she added. "I need to get in touch with Henderson. Wolfe picked a bloody fingerprint off the knife -- and it wasn't the boyfriend's. He apparently had blood on his palms and wrists, but not on his fingers. If Henderson can get us a copy of the print, maybe Jimmy can do some of his magic on it. If we can figure out who we ought to keep an eye on, maybe we can stop him before he hits again."
"Can't hurt," Clark said. "I need to write up the wrong-way motorist story, and then maybe Superman could drop by the Precinct and have a talk with him."
"That sounds like a plan," Lois said. She rang for the elevator. "What was with the wrong-way guy? Was he drunk?"
Clark shook his head. "Diabetic. He was driving back from a business conference in Gotham. Apparently he skipped his late night snack and let his blood sugar get too low. I dropped him and his car off at Metro General."
"At least that's one happy ending," Lois said. "I'm a little worried about Sharon, though."
"Sharon? Oh, you mean the woman our boy went after."
"Yeah. What if he decides she's seen too much? Considering how he apparently feels about women, I don't think it would bother him to kill her in order to eliminate a witness."
"What did Wolfe say?"
"Not much. I tried to hint her in the direction of staying with her fiance until the police find the perp, but she's not sure it would look right."
"He was sleeping in her bed," Clark pointed out. "What's the difference?"
"I didn't say it was logical," Lois said, shortly. "Maybe she's afraid her mother will find out or something."
"I guess it's possible. On the other hand, her mother probably wouldn't want her to be hurt by this guy, either, would she?"
Lois shrugged. "I just hope she's careful."
**********
tbc
