Fifty.
Fifty-one.
Fifty-two.
The jangling of keys and the sound of heavy-booted footsteps echoed toward Clark even before he could see the guards approaching. He ignored it. Half the time, the guards weren’t even bothering with him, just passing by on their way to some other task.
Fifty-three.
Fifty-four.
Fifty-five.
“On your feet!”
Clark stopped in mid pushup and looked up quizzically at the owner of the voice. It was one of Bruce’s lackeys, though Clark hadn’t ever learned the man’s name. He’d tried to learn as much as he could about all of his jailors, but none of them had been forthcoming with any information. He still only knew Bruce and Lois, and some guy he’d never ever seen, named Jimmy, who seemed to be a co-worker of Lois’, rather than one of Bruce’s underlings. He pushed himself into a sitting position but did not comply with the command to stand.
“Are my pushups annoying Bruce?” he questioned the man, as well as the other two brutes standing with him. “Or maybe he’s upset that I’m doing something other than staring at the ceiling. Is he finally coming back to kill me? Maybe he’s ready to turn me into the police? Hmmm?”
“I said stand,” the man said emotionlessly.
Clark rolled his eyes and stood, though he was more than a little confused. He’d been taken for a shave and shower just after breakfast, and he hadn’t even had dinner yet. Something was going on, and it made Clark more than a little skittish. He looked with untrusting eyes at the men before his cell.
“You know the drill,” the leader said.
Clark nodded shallowly. “I do. But I also know I already had some of your men watch me as I stood, naked, in the shower today. By the way, how many of them actually enjoy their voyeuristic duties?”
“Non-compliance,” one of the men noted in a tone that Clark didn’t like.
“It appears so.”
A chill ran down Clark’s spine as the leader – a man maybe a scant five years older than he was – reached for his keys to unlock Clark’s cell. The other two men reached for the police-style nightsticks they wore at their waists. Involuntarily, he backed away, but there was nowhere to go. His backside bumped against his cot and he fell back onto the hard, thin mattress. The two men advanced on him and Clark tried to scramble his way away from them. He managed to get off the bed and made a desperate dash for the open door. But the leader was there, anticipating the dive for escape. His own nightstick crashed into the left side of Clark’s head, bringing the blackness of unconsciousness with it.
***
Clark woke to find his head throbbing with pain. It was so bad he didn’t dare open his eyes for a long time, until the ache died down a little. He tried not to think as much as possible, but it was impossible to keep his mind blank. Eventually, he gave up and cracked one eye open, testing to see if the harsh overhead lighting would be too much for his sensitive head. But, to his confusion, he found only dim lighting. In fact, the only source of light seemed to be coming from his right. He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering if the blow to the side of his head had somehow cost him his eyesight.
After a moment, he tried again, finding the world around him still only barely lit. What was going on? He’d been living for more than five months in the land of eternal light. The darkness – once an old friend that has hidden him from the eyes of his victims – was now a stranger to him. He almost didn’t remember what it was like, to have such a respite for his eyes, to open them and not be immediately assaulted with an influx of brightness. For one terrifying moment, he wondered if he was dead. But no, this was too peaceful. He expected that, if an afterlife did indeed exist, he was bound for the flames, screams, and eternal torment of Hell.
He opened his eyes fully and instinctively turned his head toward the source of the light, trying to get his bearings. But nothing made sense. This wasn’t his cramped little cage. This place was different. It looked almost like a studio apartment, and the light came from where the door should have been. Only, it wasn’t there. What should have been made of solid wood was nothing more than a set of steel bars, the same as the door to his cell had been. He gingerly eased himself upright, so that he could sit on the much more comfortable bed. He rubbed his sore head absently, wincing at the spark of pain that resulted.
“So, you’re still alive.”
“L…Lois?” he croaked out, his voice cracking a bit, and he wondered how long he’d been unconscious for.
“And not brain-damaged I see,” she continued, shutting her book where she’d been reading it in an overstuffed armchair.
“Where…where am I?” he asked, ignoring her sarcasm. “Is this a sick bay?”
“No,” Lois said, unfolding her legs from where they’d been tucked up underneath her body. “This,” she said, spreading her arms out to the sides as if to encompass the entire room, “is your new home.”
“My…what now?”
“Your new home.” She smirked and drew the next words out deliberately, as though to tease him. “Unless, of course, you miss your cell? I could arrange to have Bruce bring you back there, if that’s the case.”
“No,” he said, a little too quickly. “I just…I’m a bit…confused.” He went to shake his head and thought better of it. “What…none of this makes any sense. The guards whacked me upside the head…”
“Because you tried to escape,” Lois interrupted.
“…and I wake up in an apartment? With bars on the door. And, for some reason, you…inside…with me?” He scratched his neck as he tried to piece it all together.
“The guards were trying to bring you here, to your new living quarters, idiot,” Lois said, but her ribbing wasn’t vicious. It was soft, in a way he’d rarely heard her speak to him. “Those morons weren’t supposed to harm you, your lamebrained attempt to escape aside. They could have killed you. Bruce didn’t want me in here with you, but you weren’t exactly a threat being out cold. I took his key.” She held up the key triumphantly and with no small amount of pride.
“Why? Why would you care if I live or die? I’m not exactly a good person. I’ve done awful things. I’ve…I’ve done the unspeakable to you…robbed you of your family.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he was making an argument against himself, but he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling past his lips either. “It probably would have been for the best if they had killed me.”
“Maybe,” Lois allowed. “But if that happens, it’ll be done the right way. A court-ordered death sentence.”
“Right. Can’t deny you your article, right?” he asked bitterly.
“You want to go back to your little animal cage?” she bristled angrily. “I can arrange it. I’m the one who suggested that Bruce move you into this place. I can just as easily convince him to send you back to where you came from,” she snapped.
Clark instantly squashed the biting remark he’d been formulating. “Sorry,” he apologized. “The truth is…I’m not used to people doing things for me. At least, not without asking me to do…terrible things for them in return. So…why did you ask Bruce to let me stay here? Not that I’m complaining. But it’s a far cry from where I was a few hours ago. Uh, or however long it’s been since that guard walloped me in the head. This place…” He sat up straighter and swung his feet over the side of the bed, but he did not even think about standing up. “It looks…stocked. There’s furniture. Lamps. Books on the shelves. What do you want from me?” he asked, his suspicion rising once more.
Lois shrugged. “Nothing. You’ve earned this.”
Clark chuckled without mirth. “Earned? How?”
“You’ve been honest with us,” Lois said, standing and placing her hands on her hips. “You’ve lost a great deal of the miserable attitude you started out with. You’ve offered up information without being prodded to. You’re…changing.” Was it his imagination, or did she seem compassionate toward him?
“Maybe,” he allowed. “Maybe I was never supposed to be…who I am. Maybe in another life, I was someone capable of doing some good in this world. Maybe I could have saved lives, instead of taking them. But…I’m not that guy. I never will be. How you can even stand to talk to me…I’m not sure I’ll ever understand that.”
Lois took a deep, thoughtful breath before answering. “I hate you for what you stole from me. But, at the same time, from everything you’ve told us, I…I’ve come to…understand…a little…why you felt trapped enough to do it. And, I’ll admit…after you told me that you made that phone call…I did a little digging.”
“Digging?” he questioned.
She nodded just once. “I needed to know if it was true. I thought…I started to remember the vague outline of a person outside the car window.” She shook her head, lost to the images playing out in her own eyes, that only she could see. “It was like a dream only half remembered and I wasn’t sure if it was real or just some random image my mind concocted based on your story.”
“And, what did you find?” he prodded, half afraid of her answer.
“That it’s more than likely that you did try to help. My phone…there was a record of it dialing 911, for starters. And Steve…the guy who stopped and called for the ambulance…he swore up and down that he’d used his own phone, not mine. My phone was also found outside of the car, on the ground. I couldn’t have dialed it on my own and thrown it out the window. It doesn’t make any sense. Unless you were telling the truth.”
Clark nodded silently, letting her tell her story.
“I guess…at the time…there was so much going on, I didn’t stop to think about these things or question the things that didn’t add up,” she continued. “I’m not sure I can say that I owe you my life, but…I can accept that you did try to help. And as much as you’re at fault for the crash, I can’t forget that you tried to save me.” Her voice hitched for a moment, and Clark could see, even as dimly lit as his new apartment was, that she had tears in her eyes. “I can’t forgive you for killing my family. I can’t forget what you took from me. But, I can accept that you acted under the fear of being killed.” One silver tear made it past her eyelashes.
Clark rose from his bed and instinctively reached out. With a trembling hand, he cupped her check and used his thumb to wipe the tear away, wondering when he’d become so brazen as to touch her in a way that felt oddly intimate.
“I’ll go to my grave regretting the lives I’ve taken. The families I’ve destroyed. And there are many.”
“How many?” she asked in a wobbly voice, as yet another tear fell.
He wiped that one away too before looking away from her. “I’m not even sure anymore. A lot. Lex had me kill anyone he thought was a rival, or threat, or who had crossed him in some way, even if it was unintentional, like your parents, who’d meant well and cured him of a disease I wish had killed him, but left him permanently bald.” He withdrew his hand, feeling bereft of her warmth as soon as he did so. “You could probably name a hundred people who have died mysteriously or suspiciously or who have been outright murdered in the last nearly fifteen years, and, chances are, if they’ve been rich or have been associated with Lex, I’m more than likely the person who’s caused them to die.”
He sighed heavily as his head throbbed anew. “I’m probably the most prolific assassin who’s ever lived.”
Once, he would have said the words with such violent, but false, pride as to drive Lois and Bruce crazy with disgust and ire. Now, however, the words broke what was left of his shriveled, blackened, worthless soul to pieces with the weight of his shame, self-loathing, and utter regret that he carried.
“I’m sorry,” he told her in a tremulous voice.
For half a heart-stopping minute, she let him continue to cup her cheek. She even almost seemed to nuzzle into his palm a little, but Clark knew that had to be a figment of his imagination. Then, too soon, she moved away, using her hands to remove his hand from her face.
“I know,” she said in a whisper-soft voice.
“So…you’re not…afraid of me?” he choked out, feeling a rush of emotions swirl inside him.
“No,” she replied without hesitation. “Do you want me to be?”
“No,” Clark said, hardly daring to breathe. He sat back down on the bed, his head still aching. “If I’m being honest…you’re the first person who’s ever done anything nice for me. Ever. It’s nice to have a fri…an almost friend,” he said, correcting himself before she could protest. He’d killed her family. He had no right to think of her as a friend, or even dream that they could ever be friends.
“An almost friend,” Lois repeated, giving him a tentative smile.
“Well,” he clarified, though she hadn’t actually said the words as a question. “I’ve done…horrible things to you. And yet…you’ve been…understanding. You got Bruce to let me stay in an actual apartment. You’ve been nice to me, despite the times I’ve been…despicable toward you.” He scrunched up his brow in thought. “Why is that?”
Lois sat back down, sitting on the edge of the seat uncomfortably, with her hands tucked between her knees. “I don’t know. I guess, I just see how much Lex Luthor has tortured you. After thinking about how you tried to help Lucy and me, and after hearing about how you had to kill or be murdered yourself, it…it altered the way I see you. And maybe I was too stubborn before to admit it, but…maybe you were right.”
“About what?” he asked, blinking in surprise. He wasn’t used to people giving him credit for things.
“In extreme circumstances, even the most mild-mannered and meek person can be forced to do things they’ve never dreamed they could do.”
His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Oh? Speaking from experience?” he asked, only half joking.
“Nothing like what you’ve done,” she automatically retorted, shutting down the response he was formulating, “but, as a reporter? I’ve had to do some wild things to get the story, even just to undercover a lead.”
“Like what?” he needled, relaxing a little and starting to really enjoy her company.
“Why so interested?” she asked, mischief dancing in her eyes.
He shrugged. “Well, you’re the one who brought it up. Can you blame me for wanting to know more? I’m an alien orphan who’s spent literally his whole life locked away from the real world.” He waggled his eyebrows just a bit.
Oh, God, am I flirting with her? he realized in horror a moment later.
Stockholm Syndrome, the sinister voice of Lex hissed gleefully in his mind.
No, he argued back. That’s not it at all.
You’re not capable of loving anyone, Lex’s voice sneered at him. You only think you’re attracted to her because she’s chosen to show you an iota of compassion. Compassion and kindness you don’t deserve. You can’t possibly love your captors. You’re not even human.
If it was Stockholm, I’d probably find myself attracted to Bruce, not Lois, he continued to argue. He wished he could kill Lex’s hold on his mind as easily as he’d assassinated his victims, once upon a time. He’s my true captor, not Lois. She just…got caught up in all this, simply because she wanted to help him catch the man who’d tried to kill him.
Liar! the Lex voice snarled. Poor little dog, wanting your lady-master to rub your tummy and give you a treat!
It’s not like that! There’s something about her…something I can’t pinpoint…but she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever…
What? Met? You’ve never met anyone else! The Lex voice cackled with such malevolence that Clark nearly screamed out in frustration.
It’s your fault! he mentally hurled back, visualizing punching Lex in the face as he did so, trying to destroy his influence in his mind. You took everything from me! I won’t let you take this too! For the first time, I actually feel like a true human man. I don’t know if this is what love is or not, but I know it’s real, not conjured up in my head as a result of my imprisonment. Now leave me alone!
His mental scream was so loud it felt like everyone in the world should have heard it. And as the dust settled in his mind from the force of his declaration, he found that, for once, Lex had nothing to say. But Clark wasn’t deluded enough to believe that his former slaver would be silenced forever that easily.
She either didn’t notice Clark’s potential flirting or didn’t mind. She ignored the bait and answered his question. “Fine. A few examples. I once posed as a waitress in a strip joint to investigate a mob boss. And no, before you ask, the waitresses didn’t disrobe. Another time, I posed as a man to gain access to a men’s club because the owner was using it as a front for selling underage girls as what he called ‘pleasure partners.’ And this,” she said, gesturing around vaguely again. “My boss thinks I’m just hanging around Bruce to cover his campaign trail as a presidential candidate. I hate lying to him like that, but he doesn’t need to know about all of this. About you.”
“Speaking of,” Clark said thoughtfully, as he looked around his new living quarters, “we’re in Metropolis, aren’t we?”
“What…makes you say that?” she asked haltingly, trying to keep it casual, but her eyes gave her away.
“I was just thinking. I remember reading about the underground city in Metropolis. It was built as a fallout shelter in case of war or a nuclear attack. From what I remember, it was the size of midtown, and several rich and famous people bought apartments in it as an insurance policy. If my memory serves, the Wayne family owned one of the largest apartments. But, after a while, the project was abandoned. So it would make sense that he chose this place. It’s not far from Gotham. It’s abandoned. Relatively few people ever knew about its existence, and those who did would have no reason to come here. And it’s got everything you need, including a cell to put troublemakers in and apartments for those who need to stay for…well, whatever reason.”
He chuckled. “Bruce, you sly dog,” he said to no one in particular. “Keeping me practically right under Lex’s nose.”
“I didn’t say you were right,” Lois reminded him brusquely.
But Clark couldn’t stop laughing. “You don’t have to, Lois. I can read it in your eyes. I’m right. Oh, this is too good. Lex will have his underlings looking everywhere for his prized assassin when I’ve been under his feet this whole time! For the first time, I’m glad to be underground.”
She regarded him for a moment with an unreadable expression and, for a fleeting few seconds, Clark thought she was going to deny the truth. Then she nodded, almost absently.
“You know something? If things had turned out differently, you might have made a decent reporter,” she informed him with what sounded suspiciously like a little pride.
Clark sighed softly. “Maybe. It would have been nice, to have chosen a career. To use my powers to help people, rather than destroy them.”
“You could have changed the world,” Lois reflected.
“For the better, at any rate. I’ve already changed the world for the worse. Like your parents.” He shook his head sadly. “They should be helping so many more people. But, because of me…” He couldn’t force the rest of his sentence out.
Lois simply nodded. “Yeah, they should be. But Lex is really to blame. And with your help, we can expose what he’s been doing.”
“With my help? You mean hand me over to a jury and let them call for the death penalty,” he snorted, all traces of his earlier relaxed attitude and the warmth of his almost friendship with Lois vanishing quicker than mist in sunlight.
“There are ways to…reduce your punishment. Maybe even protect you completely. That’s up to Bruce,” she answered cagily.
“I’d rather just be given ten minutes of freedom to kill Lex,” Clark grumpily argued. “Just ten minutes to fly up to Lex Tower and do to him what he made me do to so many others. After that…Bruce can do with me as he will.”
“No,” Lois replied icily. “That isn’t who you are anymore. Is it?” she pressed. “You aren’t the remorseless killer you once deluded yourself into thinking you are. He’s still in your head, isn’t he? Whispering things to you. Putting you down. Trying to rouse your anger. Stamping out whatever hope and happiness slips into your heart. Am I right? You hear his criticisms, don’t you? You still fear disappointing him. Right?”
“You know nothing about what my head is like!” Clark roared, throwing his hands up to his ears to drown out Lex’s voice.
She’s right. I’ll always be here. You’ll never be rid of me.
“Just leave me alone!” Clark howled at the top of his lungs.
Lois shrank back in her chair, a look of alarm on her face. She scrambled to her feet and backed up toward the cell door of his apartment. Blindly, she groped behind her, trying to fit the key into the lock to get away from him.
“Wait,” Clark pleaded, reaching out to her, but not moving from his spot on the bed. “Don’t leave. I wasn’t…that wasn’t…meant for you. The truth is…you’re right. He’s there, in my head.” He gingerly touched his fingertips to his scalp. “I just want him gone. Look, I know my days are limited. There’s no way any judge or jury would ever be lenient on me. I just want whatever time I have left to be lived…free from Lex. Not just simply in a place where he can’t find me, but without having his sneers in my head all the time.”
“You can’t kill him,” Lois said, fitting the key into the lock at last. She let herself out and locked the door shut again. “He has to be exposed to the world for what he’s done. If you kill him, his supporters will hail him as a martyr. Destroy him in a court of law, and you topple everything he’s ever worked for.”
“He doesn’t deserve to live! Not after all he’s done,” Clark countered firmly.
“Maybe not,” Lois appeared to hesitantly agree. “Believe me, I want to see him pay for his crimes just as much as you do. He stole your life. He stole my family. But justice has to be served the right way, or all we’ll wind up doing is aiding him, not hurting him.”
Clark sighed, trying to calm the surging tide of hatred crashing in his chest like waves on jagged rocks. “I’ve never taken joy in killing. But I want nothing more than to see life leave his body forever. I need to be the one to do it.”
“Then you’re no better than he is!” Lois snapped. “Killing because someone once hurt you in some way!”
“He didn’t just hurt me!” Clark snarled heatedly. “He destroyed everything about me! Who I was, who I could have been. Because of him my soul is so black it makes midnight look like full daylight! Because of him, I’m a monster. I have blood on my hands that I will never be able to wash off.” He forced himself to pause for a moment to collect himself a bit. “I don’t expect you to understand. He…I…took away your family, not your future.”
Flashes of anger still flickered in Lois’ eyes. “No, I guess I don’t understand what it’s like to be in your shoes. But I do know what it’s like to pursue justice against criminals. You called me an ‘almost friend’ before. Now act like one and trust me!”
“Trust?” Clark rolled the word out in disbelief, as if it was foreign. “Trust?” he repeated. He shook his head. “I wish I could.”
Trust.
How could he trust this woman? How could he trust anyone, for that matter? Not one single person in his life had ever had his best interests at heart. Why did Lois think it would be so easy for him just to forget all the hurts in his life and just take her word for things?
Lois shook her head as she stepped back from the cell bars. “Just think it over,” she said in a calm voice. “You’ll see. Killing Lex does nothing to right all the wrongs he’s committed.”
With that, she turned and walked briskly off, leaving Clark alone with his conflicted heart.
To be Continued…
