Free Falling, Part 9
By: C. Leuch
“Clark, can I ask you something?” Spencer North asked. The aftermath of the skirmish in his hotel room had been a blur of police officers and hotel personnel. A half dozen officers had questioned both of them at separate locations – city police, Federal agents, representatives from the American embassy. Clark, of course, was used to dealing with the authorities, and he had weathered the questioning without much worry. He got the impression that Spencer was not used to dealing with cops, evidenced by his wide-eyed reaction to each new official with a badge. He carried himself well, though, and at the end of it all he didn’t seem too frazzled, even if he didn’t exactly seem to be a model of confidence, either.
They currently found themselves in Clark’s room as the hotel staff prepared a new one for Spencer. Clark was on his computer typing up his notes on the whole experience, intending to email a short story into the Planet for the interim. There was a lot left to learn before he would be able to publish anything more in-depth, and he found himself anxious to call Lois and get her take on everything, and to get caught up on the news from back home. What had happened to the kids? Were they doing anything to set things right, and did they need his help with the plan? Unfortunately, his cell phone had died sometime during the night, and his charger hadn’t been unpacked from the care package that had arrived that morning until after he was released from the police. The phone was currently charging up, though he hadn’t had time to turn in on yet.
Spencer occupied a spot at the foot of the bed, absently flipping through channels on the television. He was due to make another appearance at the comic convention in an hour or so, though he had insisted that Clark join him as a pseudo bodyguard. Clark was pretty sure that he would be acting as moral support more than anything else, but he didn’t mind too much. The convention had been fun the day before, despite the disappearance of his powers, and he had to admit that he looked forward to meeting some of Spencer’s coworkers. Spencer didn’t seem particularly nervous about the prospect of getting out in public again, though the channel flipping indicated that his mind was occupied.
“Sure. What’s up?” Clark said, stilling his fingers and giving Spencer his undivided attention.
“You said earlier that you recognized those guys who held me captive. I know you probably told the story a dozen times already, but I’m curious… who were they? And how do you know them?”
Clark leaned back in the chair. Because they had been questioned separately, Spencer never did hear what Clark told the police. “How much time do we have?” Clark asked with a half smile, which Spencer returned.
“As much as you need.”
Clark took a second to compose his thoughts. “My wife and I do a lot of work looking into the criminal underground in Metropolis. I could point you to dozens of articles on the Planet’s website that we’ve written over the years detailing the activities of various organizations – Intergang back in the mid 90’s, various foreign terrorist organizations in the early 2000’s, and political extremists in the 2010’s. In the last decade, we’ve seen the return of historic crime families, often in collusion with various elected officials and governmental representatives. We’re about to break a story about the mob’s influence in the last election, and the men who were here, the ones holding you hostage, play a role in that narrative.
“We first ran into them when we were tailing an associate of the democratic mayoral candidate last fall. Shortly after that meeting, we saw them again, this time on one of those tabloid television shows, while in the company of a prominent local entertainer, who suddenly donated a lot of money to the candidate a day or two later. She then started throwing lavish fundraisers for him, and publicly endorsing him, but in the background at every party or interview were those two men, watching. We became curious about them, and massaged some connections to get more information. Seems they’re members of the Zarate crime family, specializing in dealing with dignitaries and celebrities. Today was their first public foray into kidnapping, at least as far as I’m aware, though something tells me they’ve given their previous victims certain incentives to keep their mouths shut. Nobody has ever been able to pin anything on them before today, though it’s amazing how many people they visit end up doing things or saying things to benefit the Zarate’s.”
“I see,” Spencer said, his eyes distant, as if mentally trying to connect the dots. “But what would they want with me?”
Clark looked at him thoughtfully. “I’ve been thinking about that. The Zarate family has had it out for Superman for a long time. You play Superman on the big screen….” Clark raised his eyebrow and held out his hand.
“But I’m NOT Superman. I couldn’t do anything to them…I’ve never even heard of them until today.”
“No, but I’m guessing they thought you could do something FOR them. You may not be the real Superman, but there’s probably a decent number of people who believe you are anyway.”
Spencer scoffed. “So I could, what, turn the public in their favor? Do PSA’s for the mob while in costume? My agent might have a problem with that.”
“A gun might speak a little louder than your agent.”
“You’ve never met my agent,” Spencer muttered, causing Clark to smile despite the seriousness of the conversation.
“Maybe they were in the audience of your panel with Superman yesterday. Maybe they figured from your rapport together that you were friends.”
“And friends help friends, especially those that are in trouble,” Spencer said quietly. His eyes met Clark’s, and Clark felt the goosebumps rising on his arm as Spencer continued. “Makes me wonder what could’ve happened if Superman had showed up to help me instead of you,” he said, his expression making it clear that it scared him to think of the possibilities. Clark had wondered the same thing himself, and had even gone to the trouble of asking the officer at the scene of the men had anything on them other than guns. Even without his powers, he was still vulnerable to kryptonite, and without his protective aura, he had to wonder how quickly he would succumb to it. It was better not to think about it, so he actively pushed the thought aside.
“They’re obviously willing to do anything to get to Superman – you were just their latest target.”
Spencer exhaled and ran his hand through his hair. “Thank goodness you were there,” he said.
“Thank goodness you left your credit card at the restaurant,” Clark said with a half smile, coaxing one in return.
“Finally, the fact that I’m not a morning person has reaped some benefits. If they had tried to kidnap me after I’d had some caffeine, they might have actually succeeded.”
Clark raised his eyebrows and laughed gently. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
Spencer laughed with him for a moment, then looked at the clock. “Looks like I need to get going. You’re still coming, right?”
“Of course,” Clark said, saving the document he had been working on and flipping the top of his computer closed. Spencer rose to leave, then glanced toward the dresser, on which Clark’s backpack was sitting. Clark followed his gaze, feeling a moment of panic as he noticed some fabric poking out of the backpack. That was the bag that he had flown in to the comic convention wearing the day before, and his suit was in there somewhere. He calmed himself, remembering the hidden compartment in the bag, and the fact that he had been especially careful to make sure the suit was well hidden once his powers went away. What he hadn’t bothered to hide very well, he realized, was the costume he had put on immediately after taking off the suit.
Clark looked back toward Spencer, and noticed a crooked smile on his face. “Didn’t you say that you went to the convention yesterday dressed as a certain caped crusader?” he asked, stepping forward and reaching for the fabric.
“I did say that,” Clark said. As Spencer gently pulled CJ’s old costume out of the bag, Clark shoved his hand in the larger compartment and pulled out the cowl.
Spencer’s smile grew. “I have a fantastic idea,” he said, then started to undress.
About fifteen minutes later, Clark Kent, dressed in a suit and tie, very much looking the part of the dapper reporter, approached the VIP entrance of the Convention Centre Sydney a step behind Gotham’s famous protector, Batman. While Spencer explained to the doorman who he was under the cape and cowl, Clark turned his face toward the sky, realizing with a start that the rays from the sun felt fantastic. It occurred to him that, up until their short walk to the Convention Centre, he hadn’t stepped out of the hotel at all that day. Any windows he had been near had been at least partially covered with drapes, keeping him from fully experiencing the sun’s rays. Now he felt invigorated, and he knew that whatever had happened to the sun to take his powers away had now been corrected. He wanted to pull out his now fully-charged phone and check the half dozen voice mail messages waiting for him; he wanted to call his wife and children and congratulate them for whatever they did to make the sun right again, but there was no time. The doorman waved them inside, and Spencer was looking at him patiently, curiously. As much as he wanted to stay out in the sun’s healing rays, he had other obligations, so he moved forward.
Immediately upon entering, Spencer headed down the same hallway that he and Clark had traversed the day before, the black cape billowing behind him. “Where did you say you got this suit?” Spencer asked, attempting to glance over his shoulder, though the movement was thwarted by the stiffness of the cowl. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The fabric…it’s not spandex or anything you would see in a conventional bodysuit. There’s something…heavy about it. Expensive.” His gloved hand plucked at the material, rubbing it back and forth a few times before letting it go.
The material was state of the art, an experimental polymer that nobody outside of Waynetech engineering had seen before. It was made specifically for breathability and ease of cleaning, and was tough enough that the seams wouldn’t tear out after a particularly vigorous night of crime fighting. Clark also found it incredibly comfortable to wear, and was ordering some fabric just like it in a bright blue for his own use. “I’m just borrowing it from my son” Clark replied, which was very much the truth. “He’s…a huge follower of Batman.”
“Shouldn’t the outfit have a belt or something? The Batman we had on our set had this thing with pockets everywhere, supposedly hiding all sorts of gadgets.” Spencer looked down, running his hand over his hip.
Clark shook his head. “Batman hasn’t worn a belt for a few years. Look more closely at the photos coming out of Gotham these days.” Spencer looked at his questioningly. “I, uh, cover Batman’s activities from time to time. Anyway, my son is enough of an enthusiast that he would be sure to have his suit match the real thing.”
Spencer stuck out his bottom lip and nodded slightly. They were now approaching a group of people gathered next to the door to the same room Clark and Spencer were in yesterday. The people, who had been chatting quite loudly, grew quieter as Clark and Spencer approached. Spencer made eye contact with Clark, molded his features into an appropriately solemn expression, and stalked toward them. He gave some greetings in a low, gravvelly voice, drawing a fair number of raised eyebrows. Nobody said anything for a few moments as everyone seemed to become uncomfortable around the intimidating newcomer, then Spencer smiled and took on a more comfortable stance.
“Aw, come on guys, it’s just me,” he said in his normal voice, and then everyone was laughing.
“That is brilliant,” Spencer’s co-star, the woman playing Ultra Woman, said as she pointed at him.
“I wish I could take credit for the idea,” Spencer said, then turned toward Clark. “Everyone, this is Clark Kent, a journalist with the Daily Planet in Metropolis. He’s also staying at the same hotel as me and he kind of saved my bacon this morning.”
Everyone looked at him questioningly, so he proceeded to tell them the story of his foiled kidnapping. All of a sudden, all eyes were on Clark, giving him the awed and thankful expressions generally reserved for his alter ego. As Spencer finished the story, he mentioned that Clark had been at the convention the day before in that very costume. “It’s seemed hilarious to me, the idea of Superman going as Batman, so here I am,” he said, sweeping his arms out with a flourish, which allowed the cape to fly out dramatically. It was a moment later that the convention official, a different handler than had been present the day before, came out to bring the cast and crew of the Superman movie into the room.
Clark was sure in retrospect that Spencer had asked him if he wanted to join them on stage, and he thought he remembered shaking his head and mumbling that he was fine staying offstage. He knew that Spencer’s costume stunt had brought a roar of laughter from the crowd that had gathered, and he might have smiled reflexively in response, but he wasn’t sure. All he was consciously aware of was the repeated words in his head. “…The idea of Superman going as Batman,” Spencer had said, juxtaposed with his reaction when told at breakfast that that was what Clark had done. There was recognition there. He knew Clark’s secret, he had to. Clark found himself stumbling toward the doorway to the room and leaning heavily against the frame. Was it necessarily a bad thing that he knew? Did he really know, or was Clark drawing too much inference from a silly stunt and a statement intended to be complimentary? It was entirely possible that he could’ve gotten the idea on his own, but there something about the way he said it…Clark was certain that he knew the truth.
In the large room beyond, Spencer and his costars, director, and producer took questions from the crowd and gave answers. For the most part, the things they said were fairly standard fan service and not what Clark would consider groundbreaking. Then a fan that Clark recognized from the day before approached the microphone and asked Spencer North if yesterday had really been the first time he met Superman. Spencer responded in the affirmative, then the fan asked Spencer what is was like to meet a real hero, someone who had done so much to help the world. “I mean, he’s Superman, he’s…stronger than a locomotive, able to change the course of mighty rivers,” the fan said, quoting from promotional material from the comics. “That must’ve been incredible.”
Clark found himself pushing away from the door jamb, standing straighter in anticipation of the answer. He wasn’t sure why it mattered so much to him – he tended not to dwell on what others thought of him – but Spencer wasn’t just some random stranger.
“It absolutely was,” Spencer responded quickly, then paused. “It was also completely different than what I had anticipated. He’s a guy who’s probably the biggest celebrity around, so big that he transcends even the idea of celebrity. But…it seems counterintuitive to say so, but Superman has no ego. None. It’s hard to give that man a compliment because he’ll reflect it right back at you. He’s the strongest man in the world, bar none, but he’s also the gentlest that I know, and so caring toward those of us lucky enough to know him. He’s the type of man that I wish I could be, that I strive to be. And I’m so thankful that he considers me a friend.” As he finished, Spencer looked sideways toward where Clark was standing, and his eyes told Clark everything he needed to know. The crowd in the room, the other celebrities and Hollywood bigwigs around him didn’t exist in that moment, it was just the two of them. And the truth.
Applause greeted the comment, breaking the spell and causing Spencer to turn back toward the crowd. Clark took the opportunity to retreat away from the door to the room and further down the hallway, and a dark corner where he could be alone. At that moment, he decided he needed to hear familiar voices, so he picked up his phone and dialed into his voice mail. As the crowd heard all the juicy details about the new Superman movie and its cast and crew, Clark listened to messages from his wife and children, telling him all about satellites, rogue governmental contractors, gang wars and rampant crime. He heard tantalizing morsels about adventures that the kids had with their in-laws; he heard about the massive research undertaking happening in Gotham, and the interesting things that had been uncovered, and he found himself homesick for the first time in a very long time. Immediately after checking his messages, he dialed his wife. It was well past respectable socializing hours in Metropolis, but he knew she’d be awake.
“Hi,” he said, and he could practically hear her smile over the phone.
“Ah, finally,” she said, her tone teasing. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten about me.”
“Perish the thought,” Clark said, feeling instantly more relaxed at the sound of her voice. “My phone died. And then…well, it’s been an interesting day. I’d say that you wouldn’t believe what happened, but given our history….”
“I think I would be disappointed if you told me that you had a completely normal and uneventful trip.”
“I’m more disappointed that you weren’t here to share in the fun. My alter ego was nowhere to be seen during this one – my grounded adventures never quite seem as fun when you’re not part of them.” He leaned against the wall and sighed.
“I agree,” she said wistfully, and his mind called up memories of the many escapades they’d shared together over the years. “It’s been pretty eventful here, too. Maybe we can swap stories when you get home.” There was a slight pause, and when she began speaking again, her voice took on a more teasing quality. “Speaking of coming home, you didn’t happen to notice a slight difference in the color of the sky when you walked outside today, did you?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “I’ve only spent a couple minutes outside so far today, but it was quite refreshing.”
“Might you say it recharged you?”
“I might,” he said slowly. “I think I will need to do a little sunbathing when I get back to the hotel, but then….”
“Then?”
“I hope to be there when you wake up in the morning.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” she said. “I miss you, you know.”
“Same here. Thank you, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For the care package. For your patience. For being fantastic.”
“What can I say? You’re worth it.” She answered. He smiled so wide it hurt, and he found himself fighting the urge to run outside and soak in the sun, just so he could get back to her sooner. “So, I have to ask – where are you now? What’s so important that you have to stick around there for a while longer?”
“Would you believe that I have an interview set with Superman?”
“Really?” she laughed.
“Yup, and Batman, too.” She gave no answer, and he could imagine her sitting at the other end of the line with her eyebrows raised, waiting for the punch line. “From the movie.”
“And here I thought you might have the story of the century,” she said, the laughter still in her voice.
“Well, who’s to say I don’t?” Clark answered. “Spencer North – the movie Superman – was kidnapped today, then subsequently rescued by a certain mild-mannered reporter who shall remain nameless.”
“You HAVE been busy down there,” Lois answered.
“I told you it’s been an interesting day.”
“I believe you,” Lois said.
“I haven’t told you the most interesting part of the story yet,” he said. “The kidnappers were a couple of Zarate goons.”
“Really,” Lois said, dragging out the word, thoughtful. “The plot thickens,” she added under her breath, and Clark had to ask her to clarify. “Tell you what,” she said. “I will tell you the whole story, but only when I can see you face to face. I want to be there to see your reaction to all the strange twists we’ve revealed.”
“You weren’t the only one to leave me voice mail, you know,” he said. “I have a pretty good idea of what’s going on over there.”
“Ah, but I’ve saved the juiciest tidbit of information for when you come home.”
“Gloating just isn’t the same over the phone, is it?” he asked. Teasing her never got old.
“No, it absolutely is not,” she answered, and he had to laugh lightly. “And anyway, let’s call it incentive. If it gets you home sooner….”
“I don’t need any incentive, believe me,” he said, feeling a creeping ache from their separation. He knew she could feel it, too, and the ache only intensified as he briefly imagined what he would do to help soothe it away. He sighed again, knowing that he had to be patient for the time being. “It must be getting pretty late there.”
“It was late a couple hours ago,” Lois answered, then yawned.
Clark smiled. “I should let you get to bed, then.”
“Thanks. Well, I guess, have fun with your movie stars. Must be a thrill being around such huge celebrities. And Superman, no less,” she said lightly, and he knew he would be hearing about this for a long time.
“My life is now complete,” he replied. “Hey, love you.”
“Love you, too. Hurry home.”
“I will,” he said, then ended the call. Almost immediately, applause erupted from the room where the Superman cast and crew were holding their panel. He turned to look, and the cast was standing, waving to the crowd, then filing out of the room and back into the hallway. Spencer North, who was now carrying the Batman cowl instead of wearing it, glanced around the hallway as soon as he was out of the room, locating Clark after a moment and raising a hand.
“They have a spread set up for us in one of those dressing rooms. I was hoping that maybe you’d like to come join us?” His expression was eager and earnest, and Clark couldn’t say no. He followed the group back toward the entrance, then into a larger dressing room, which had some food waiting for them on a table across from the door. Clark tried to hang back and observe, but Spencer wasn’t having any of that. As they gathered around the table with their food and drinks, Spencer initiated conversations between Clark and the various other castmates and crew present. It was here that he heard the stories not fit for print, and some more interesting ones that were. He couldn’t help but ask the actors what drew them to their roles, and ask the producers how they viewed their subject. It was fascinating to him to hear what these people inferred from his story, what conclusions they drew about his thoughts and desires and motivations based on a completely fictional account of his life. The most fascinating part of it all was that they really weren’t all that far off, at least not in his estimation. Superman lost some of his humanity through their portrayal, but Clark could live with that. He was also heartened to know that they all seemed like genuinely good people, honest people…the type of people he was glad to have attached to a project bearing his name. There was a lot of laughter, and nobody seemed threatened by the presence of a reporter among them. All too soon, however, the meal was done, and it was time to move along. Several of the celebrities had to meet fans and sign autographs, and Spencer was still wearing a batsuit.
“I suppose I should go back to the hotel and change,” he said, looking down toward his chest.
“Not feeling dark and gritty?” Clark asked.
Spencer made an attempt to scowl, but it wound up looking almost comically exaggerated. “I have a hard time getting in character when the guy I’m playing never smiles. It must be exhausting being so serious all the time.”
Clark shrugged. “He prowls buildings at night. Maybe he smiles when nobody can see him,” he said, fairly certain that what he was saying was not just speculation. The toughest part of CJ’s transformation into the Bat was always the seriousness of the character. For CJ, the trick was not to be seen too often, because if people were able to see his face in full daylight, they might be able to see how much he actually enjoyed his work.
“Maybe,” Spencer said with a thoughtful tip of his head, then he made for the door, and back toward the hotel. Clark followed, turning his face to the sun again once they got outside.
They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments before Clark spoke again. “I’m going back to Metropolis tonight,” he said, and Spencer stopped. Clark, who had been looking skyward, almost ran into him.
“Tonight?” Spencer asked. Clark shifted his gaze toward Spencer’s face, and saw confusion mixed with what he could only characterize as relief. Clark nodded. “I guess the fun had to end sometime.”
“It always does,” Clark answered, moving forward again. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t meet up again sometime. I’d love to meet your family.”
“Likewise,” Spencer said with a smile. It was telling that he didn’t ask any questions of Clark about airlines or luggage or flight times. There was no need, though the reason why remained unsaid. Clark supposed that he preferred it that way. Spencer looked down at the cowl in his hand, then thrust it toward Clark. “I bet your family is filled with…interesting characters. I mean, anyone who could come up with this get-up…” He rubbed his hand over the black stitching near the heart on the bodysuit, the small Superman emblem that usually went unnoticed. But Spencer noticed, and Clark supposed that meant that he was also aware of the reason that the symbol was there.
Clark smiled and nodded. “I’m sure my son will find it hilarious that you wore this,” he said, taking the cowl. The walk to the hotel was very short, and they were soon in the lobby, heading toward the elevator.
“He doesn’t find it equally hilarious that you wore it, too?”
“I think with me the novelty wore off a while ago. I’m not shy about getting dressed up in ridiculous costumes if there’s a little fun to be had. One Halloween I went out as the Flash….”
Spencer chuckled. “Well, please thank him for me when you see him next.” He pressed the call button for the elevator, and the doors opened immediately. The ride up to Clark’s floor was taken in comfortable silence, and soon they were at his room, and Spencer was changing back into his normal clothing.
They made small talk about the weather and their plans for the remainder of the day, then Spencer handed Clark the empty spandex and cape.
“I suppose I should get going,” Spencer said, though he didn’t make any move for the door.
“If I don’t see you again before I go, it’s been good getting to know you,” Clark said, extending his hand toward Spencer. Spencer just stared at it for a moment, as if he didn’t want the finality that came the offered handshake. After a moment he sighed and took this hand, forcing a smile onto his face.
“I should thank you for saving my life,” Spencer said. “I’m not sure that I properly have yet.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” Clark answered. “I keep telling you, you had as much to do with thwarting those guys as I did.”
“The fact remains that I would’ve never had the courage to stand up to them if not for you. The example you set…”
Clark shook his head and held up his hand, recognizing that Spencer was dangerously close to speaking the unspoken, of acknowledging the truth. The subterfuge probably wasn’t necessary anymore, but there was something about the status quo that seemed more comfortable. Facing the truth and having all the discussions that came with the revelation invariably brought awkwardness, and Clark refused to insert that into a friendship that was still very new and fresh. Maybe sometime in the future they would say the words, but not now. “I’m just a guy making his way in the world, same as you.”
Emotions flashed across Spencer’s face, and for a second, Clark was sure that he was going to launch into a long-winded speech about how wrong he was, but then he seemed to come to a realization and stopped, looking down at the floor for a minute before turning back toward Clark. “That’s right. Clark Kent, from the heart of small town Kansas. Royals fan and family man,” he said with a genuine smile. “And part-time Batman.”
“You’re a good kid, Spencer,” Clark said. “And you’re doing a great job. You’ve managed to do right by the characters you portray, by your family, your friends. You don’t need my example – you’re doing just fine on your own.”
As Clark spoke, Spencer’s expression morphed to one of gratitude. Almost as soon as Clark finished speaking, Spencer took a step forward and embraced him. Clark’s arms automatically came up to return the gesture. They stood like that for a long minute, then Spencer stepped away, and all doubts and questions seemed gone from his face. “I know I don’t need you, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t like having you around. You know, to talk to. To give me confidence. I feel more like myself when you’re around. You’re probably an incredible dad.”
“And you do wonders for a guy’s ego,” Clark said, deflecting the compliments. “Tell you what, if you ever need anything – a pep talk, advice, or just a friendly ear to bend – feel free to call.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to dig around for a business card. Spencer watched with interest, one eyebrow quirked, then held out his hand to accept the card. The Daily Planet business cards were quite colorful, a gold embossed logo of the paper splashed across the back. “My cell number is on there, along with the office number.”
Spencer looked at the card briefly, then pulled out his cell phone and entered the information into his contacts. “Here, I’ll send you a text,” he said, and a second later Clark’s phone buzzed. Clark swapped his wallet for his cell phone, then saved the number.
“I have a genuine superhero on speed dial,” he said, deadpan.
“Only one?” Spencer asked, and Clark just smiled and raised one eyebrow in return. “Well, I guess… until we meet again,” he said, then gave a salute, turned, and left the room.
Clark stood rooted to his spot for a long time after Spencer left, basking in the aftermath of the moment. To say that this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship seemed awfully cliché, but it was the truth. He did feel almost fatherly toward Spencer, a feeling that was only strengthened by the fact that Spencer was in on the secret, not unlike his sons. With a shake of his head, Clark forced himself back into motion, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off. A moment later his pants came off, and he went toward his box from home, digging around and eventually finding a pair of shorts. Wearing only the shorts and a pair of flip flops, he reached for his laptop, then made his way out of the room and toward the stairwell, bound for the roof. He still had a story about that morning’s kidnapping to finish, and another one to start detailing his day with Hollywood’s version of the world’s finest heroes. That gave him plenty of time to absorb all the sunlight he could. Then, if all went according to plan, his reward would be the start of a new day beside his lovely wife.
