Continued from
Investigate - Chapter 2/? (Super) [CHAPTER 3 - Debut]
Every single person who had the money had a copy of the Daily Planet open while those who didn’t read over their shoulders. Metropolis was in awe and the world in wonder.
SUPERMAN SPEAKS
An image based on Lois’ description of their secret hero sat boldly beneath the title. It had been drawn by an ecstatic sketch artist very early that morning and had barely made the deadline, but it was there.
Limited light gleamed off his slicked back, dark hair and his chin and nose stood out in the darkness, but the emblem on his chest was what drew the eye. A beam of dim light fell upon a large red and golden yellow 'S’ on a shimmering dark blue fabric.
The governments of the world continued the scramble to assess a threat level, but what could they do? They still had no idea what his capabilities were exactly, and it didn't seem that he meant any harm. In fact, everything they were finding stated the exact opposite.
People everywhere were speaking excitedly about proof of Life beyond Earth and about what they had read and seen from the article.
Many were touched by how hesitant and humble the being they had named Superman was and how they hoped he would become comfortable enough to let them see him. For most, it was another sign that he truly was there to help, after all, someone who can move that quickly without being noticed could have killed all the world leaders and taken over if they had really wanted to.
“Lois, this is astounding,” Perry said. “I hadn't been too sure about the ending of your last article, but it sure did pay off.”
“Well, for a while there, Chief, I was beginning to become unsure too, but then he showed up when I least expected it!”
Suddenly, Jimmy ran in. “Chief, something's happening at the Lexor Hotel!”
They ran out and turned their attention to the TV screens as someone turned up the volume.
“The fire started approximately fifteen minutes ago and the fire department has ordered the surrounding buildings to be evacuated. The blaze is not contained and there are an unknown number of people trapped within the 57 floors.”
Plumes of purplish black smoke and massive tongues of hot red flames billowed out of dozens of windows near the middle floor of the building. The news crews were kept a fair distance back, so they couldn't see much, but they could see figures waving from several windows.
Suddenly, a loud crack of a sonic boom cut through the roar of the fire as a red and blue blur whipped in front of black soot and orange flames.
“It's Superman!” someone shouted as he zipped through the top-most flaming window.
A whooshing sound echoed forth from above and white smoke shot out from windows, floor by floor, intermittently, as a red and blue blur began depositing injured people on to stretchers and within reach of emergency personnel nearly a block down the street in less than a minute.
As the fire was swiftly cleared from each floor by Superman, the sound of burning waned and cheering rose before the flames were finally extinguished completely from the building.
Everyone in the newsroom was silent and the people on the street waited with bated breath.
“He's coming out!” a voice cried out.
And he was, exiting out the front door with a bundle in his arms, but the danger had not yet passed.
Suddenly, the firemen pulled back, waving and shouting out warnings as a portion of the building facade fell, smashing onto the ladder of the firetruck that had been approaching the building with a water hose before Superman's arrival. The firetruck began to twist and those present could only watch in horror as it began to tip over toward Superman and the clustered firemen who had been battling the fire on the lower floors.
Shifting the bundle to one arm, Superman once again disappeared in a blue and red blur before coming to a sudden stop beneath the falling firetruck and hovering several feet off the ground with his free arm lifted up. The ladder landed on his raised hand and instantly stopped before he pushed it by floating over, gently guiding the firetruck back onto all six wheels.
The crowd and all of the emergency personnel burst out into applause and cheered even louder than before as Superman touched back down.
He straightened and seemed to take a slow calming breath before turning and approaching the fire chief who was just beyond the righted truck.
Paul Mohr was a gruff man who had over fifteen years of experience fighting fires, but he felt like a little kid as the red caped man stopped in front of him. However, Paul couldn't help but stare as a small corner of his brain thought it strange that this being was shorter than him.
In a daze, he held out his hand and Superman took it in a firm but painless grip.
“Thank you,” Paul said automatically, taking in the sight of ash smudged across the side of Superman's forehead before looking down at what was blinking up contentedly from Superman's bent arm.
“I got him from a bassinet in room 5124, where I found a woman. She's in Ambulance 32,” Superman answered as the infant reached out a little hand and took Superman’s thumb.
Not waiting for a reply, Superman started walking to the ambulance. Paul quickly fell into step beside him with everyone on the street watching.
“I know you will check beforehand, but floors 35 and 36 will need to be reinforced before you can have men go higher. The structural supports on the east side were severely damaged,” Superman said.
“Uh, I'll be sure to let my people know. Thank you,” Paul said.
They made it to the ambulance and paused just beyond the ambulance doors.
“My baby, is my baby safe?” the woman on the stretcher’s edge asked the paramedic from behind an oxygen mask, just now coming to.
“We will check with the firemen as soon as we can, ma'am,” the female paramedic answered before turning around to see who had approached.
“Superman!” she gasped.
“Ma’am,” Superman greeted, stepping forward.
The paramedic moved aside, allowing the mother within to reach and take hold of her son, who Superman carefully relinquished.
Sobbing out a heartfelt thank you the woman all but leapt off the stretcher and hugged Superman, even as she held her now bewildered child.
Shyly pulling back, she wiped her eyes and held her baby tightly.
“You're welcome,” Superman said before giving a nod to Paul and the paramedic, ignoring the flashes of light from cameras behind them. And then before anyone could think of what to do, he stepped back and shot up into the air with a smile, leaving a sonic boom in his wake.
O o O o O
The next two days were fairly quiet but busy. News stations everywhere were holding interviews with practically every single person who had been on the street when Superman had put out the fire. The mother with her infant had been interviewed the most, though Paul Mohr was a close second.
Superman had done a few other rescues, but they were all quick saves that didn't give the media much to bite into. However, the governments of the world had started responding.
Many were positive, welcoming and thanking Superman for his actions. Lois was heartened by the overwhelmingly positive responses; however, there were a handful of countries that warned they would fire upon him if he entered their airspace.
Lois shook her head in dismay as she headed out to talk with one of her best contacts, always on the lookout for a story.
She waited for Earl to come out the back. Fortunately, she didn't need to wait long. Earl was the janitor of Police Headquarters and had long since provided her with tips on upcoming cases and the like, knowing her investigative skills would help the police serve justice in the end.
“Anything new?” she asked.
“Just two things. There was another reference made of 'The Boss’ by some thugs brought in earlier today. They seem to be getting more organized, but these were caught by Superman and left for the police. As for the second new thing, it's more of a new -someone-. A private investigator has moved into town and has helped solve a few cold cases. He's also helped out Henderson with a small, more recent problem and has become his friend. Anyway, from what I've heard, this fellow is really good, and I mean
really good. Thought you might want to know in case you ever needed help on one of your investigations. Never know when you might need a little help,” Earl said with a shrug, knowing how independent Lois liked to be but feeling he should put it out there anyway.
“And this someone would be…?” she asked, realizing this person was responsible for the handful of stories a few other reporters had taken, most being recently solved murders.
“Clark Kent.”
Lois nodded. “Alright, thank you. I'll certainly keep his name in mind, especially since I know how difficult it is to get on Henderson’s good side.”
Earl laughed before going on his way.
O o O o O
Clark sighed to himself as he stepped from the cab and made his way up to the main entrance of LexCorp.
He didn't like LexCorp. Even from the small number of investigations he had done in Metropolis so far, something was very off about the company. He couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly, but the red flags cropping up were definitely worrying.
He didn't allow himself to make assumptions, however. He relied on proof, although sometimes proof started out in the form of coincidences. For when one encountered enough coincidences, they were evidence of something more.
“Hello, I'm here to meet with Mr. Luthor at 10:45,” he said to the woman behind the front desk.
“Mr. Kent?” she asked, scrolling through that day's schedule. “I.D. please.”
“Of course,” he said, pulling out his identification card and PI license for good measure.
He was investigating the murder of Miranda Fairchild.
Her body had been found in Hobbs Bay a few weeks before and Clark had been given the case by Henderson. With so many more recent cases cropping up, it was deemed the department would be able to better use resources by hiring Clark instead of devoting one of their swamped detectives to it.
He had come to LexCorp to interview Lex Luthor because Miranda had been an ex-employee and apparently had had a romantic relationship with him in the past. Clark was working on getting a broad picture of who Miranda used to be and who she interacted with so hopefully he could determine a motive or find who may have wanted her gone.
Right now, the only substantial lead was her work in perfume and, ultimately, chemistry.
She had created a pheromone that made people fall madly in love with almost any individual they were subconsciously attracted to. She had even 'tested’ the pheromone at the Daily Planet (which had caused outlandish and unfortunate incidents for many of the employees there). Which brought up another person he needed to interview--Lois Lane, since she wrote the article that identified the source of the Daily Planet’s dramatic heartbreak hours before Miranda went missing. Perhaps someone there had suffered something they felt unforgivable and had decided to exact revenge against Miranda? Possible.
“Mr. Leet will escort you to Mr. Luthor,” she said, motioning to a large burly man behind Clark.
“Thank you,” Clark said, before falling into step behind the building’s security guard.
After a long elevator ride and a walk to a shiny entry room, they stopped outside a large and elaborate looking chamber.
“Wait here, Mr. Kent,” Mr. Leet said before continuing into the chamber and disappearing behind a door within.
Having long since put aside certain scruples while on an investigation, Clark allowed his hearing to expand beyond the area he was in.
“Mr. Leet, I gather my guest has arrived?” came Luthor’s voice.
“Yes, sir, he's outside,” Leet answered.
“Well, let's see if his reputation is deserved or if he's just as clueless as the rest of the police department here. I do hope for a challenge,” Luthor said.
“You want him to be on to you, sir?” another voice asked. He had an English accent, and by the deep gravely tones within it, Clark didn't need x-ray vision to know the man was older.
“What fun is the hunt if prey don't know of the danger that lurks?” Luthor asked.
Clark frowned, the red flags he had seen were solidifying into puppet strings that played Metropolis.
Mr. Leek and Mr. Luthor entered the room, followed by the aged Englishman.
“Mr. Luthor, thank you for taking the time to see me. I know you are a very busy man,” Clark said offering his hand.
“No problem, and thank you for investigating Miranda's murder, Mr. Kent. I know the police department unfortunately doesn't have the resources to conduct a proper investigation,” Luthor answered, shaking his hand like any proper business man. “If there is anything I can do to help bring those responsible for Miranda's death to justice . . . nothing would please me more.”
Clark nodded, noting how calm and sincere the man appeared as well as how even his heartbeat sounded. He was an exceptional liar.
“Thank you,” Clark said as Luthor motioned to the chairs for them to sit.
“Would you care for something to drink?” Luthor asked as he sat on a leather chair across from the couch and side table.
“No, thank you,” Clark said, taking a seat on the couch.
“As you wish. Nigel, you and Mr. Leet may go,” he said, waving the englishman away in dismissal. “Now, how can I help you? I assume you have questions for me?” he asked as Mr. Leet and the apparent butler left the room, back where they had just stepped from.
“Yes. And some may be rather personal,” Clark warned.
“As I said before, if there's anything I can do to help, I'll do it. And if that happens to be answering a few difficult questions, so be it.”
Clark gave an appreciative nod. “Very well. I understand you and Ms. Fairchild were romantically involved two years ago?” Clark asked, going straight to business.
“Yes, though I broke up with her after three months. She was . . . impulsive, with alarmingly wide mood swings and well, I cared for her a great deal, but I couldn't see myself making a life with her, so I ended it,” he said apologetically.
Clark was a little surprised by how much he felt he should believe the man just then. It seemed Luthor had truly felt something toward Miranda at one point.
“And when she began working for LexCorp?” Clark asked.
“I hadn't even known she was working for my company for over a year. LexCorp has many divisions and departments. She was hired outside my immediate realm of knowledge, as I allow my Department Managers and the like to operate without my direct influence. I don't believe in micromanaging. Anyway, she worked in the Cosmetic and Pharmaceutical -- also known as C&P -- Division as a chemist. She did well there, and then she reached out to me. Imagine my surprise to learn she had been so close to me for so long without my knowing. She of course wanted to know if I wanted to 'give us another chance’. I said no but assured her I had no problem whatsoever with her staying with LexCorp. I had thought she could be professional. I was wrong.”
“She didn't take your answer well?” Clark asked.
“She started leaving me messages, telling me she was working on a very special project. I later learned it involved perfumes.”
“From the incident at the Daily Planet?” Clark prompted.
“No, she came to me before that. She wanted me to fund a separate branch devoted to her new 'product’. She offered to demonstrate it, but I declined, stating she had to go through the proper channels placed in her department and that I had been very lenient with her behavior but I couldn't any longer. I told her I would order the termination of her employment if she didn't start handling things the way she knew she should.” Luthor sighed. “She stormed out. And that was the last time I saw her.”
Clark nodded. “And that was the fifth of this month?” he asked, recalling the police report.
“Yes.”
“Do you know any of her friends or who she spent time with outside of work? Who was her immediate supervisor?”
“I don't know what she did outside of work, but Daniel Harper was her supervisor. He oversees the lab and takes any breakthroughs to the next step.”
Clark nodded and jotted down the name.
“Do you know if anyone knew about what she was working on?”
“No, not until after the article from the Daily Planet. Which does remind me, an agency from the government sent a team out to check for any of her work in the C&P Division, but they couldn't find anything. I don't think she did her work on my property. I don't know if they found anything at her home.”
“Thank you. The compound she made could be considered a chemical weapon, so I'm not surprised the government would look into it. A city affected by it . . .” Clark said, shaking his head.
Luthor nodded, his eyes grim. “Sodom and Gomorrah. A city without restraint.”
“Indeed. Do you recall anything she may have said that you feel may be of help now?” Clark asked, deciding it was time to tie things up.
“No, I wish I did, Mr. Kent, but I don't.”
“Well, thank you for meeting with me and answering my questions, Mr. Luthor. You have been a great help,” he said, standing up.
“If there's anything you think of that I can do to help, don't be afraid to ask. Miranda wasn't perfect, but she deserved better than what she got.”
“She did,” Clark agreed, shaking Luthor's hand.
He headed out soon after. Unfortunately, Luthor didn't say anything of note after he had left.
O o O o O
Lois needed a break, so she decided the best way to alleviate her recent frustrations over a story's slow progress was to investigate the new PI at the precinct.
Clark Kent.
He was interesting.
Very interesting.
He was a prior military officer, Air Force officer to be precise, who had spearheaded the new Special Field Support division. He had a very respectable rack of ribbons and no doubt would have had very little trouble making it to Colonel and possibly beyond had he decided to stay in the Air Force. But he had completed his commission and was honorably discharged, returning to his previous career as a private investigator. A private investigator with a degree in astrophysics. Interesting, yet baffling, choice.
As for his accomplishments as a PI, she didn't have too much on them yet, but it was clear he was good at what he did. Maybe he was worth seeking out if she ever hit a dead end.
Granted, the chances of that happening were very low. She was Lois Lane, one of the best investigative reporters the Daily Planet had ever seen -- possibly the best.
She put the folder on Clark Kent down. Much of her findings were matter of public record, one just had to know the correct channels, but she couldn't help but feel there was more to Clark Kent than even his thorough background stated, his chosen degree notwithstanding.
He had travelled a great deal before joining the military--it was why he became the first SFS officer and why he had helped instruct the first few groups of that division.
Why did he travel? She supposed he could just be one of those adventurous types, but the amount of traveling he had done was downright epic. Was he looking for something? Or was his curiosity as insatiable as her own? Maybe even hungrier? And why had he chosen astrophysics as his degree? She didn't see how that would help with his travels much, other than perhaps navigating at night.
She shook her head. He was a PI, and like herself, he probably hated to leave any mystery unsolved. Was it really all that strange that he travelled the world and solved mysteries as he went instead of remaining in a city like her to solve mysteries that surfaced like groundhogs?
Well, one thing was for sure, she hoped their paths would cross in the near future.
O o O o O
He was getting more comfortable in the suit. He didn't feel as self-conscious and it was nice to interact with rescue personnel. It reminded him of his time as an SFS officer, although instead of primarily orchestrating rescues and organizing triage centers or shelters with the locals after disasters, he was directly alleviating issues personally.
He was flying over Metropolis when he suddenly heard an odd high-pitched whine, which was then followed by a horrendous crash.
Quickly redirecting himself, he shot to the sound and found a car smashed into a street light that was now beginning to tip. Upon landing, he righted it and released some heat vision to weld back the broken portion so it would remain upright until the city could replace it.
“Superman?” the driver gasped, dazed and in pain. “What happened?”
“I'm not sure, but there's something under your engine that shouldn't be there,” he said, opening the door. “You have whiplash and your right knee needs to be looked at by a doctor. Your ligaments there have torn, I'm afraid.”
“I've called for an ambulance, Superman,” a pedestrian said, stopping at the edge of the sidewalk as if afraid to trespass but eager to be close.
“Thank you, sir,” Superman said, causing the man to beam.
Superman turned back to the injured man but frowned as a whine reached his ears again. He whipped around, startling the crowd that was beginning to grow. His eyes scanned the area, trying to determine where it was coming from while ignoring the concerned faces around him. Less than 2 seconds later, a distant boom was heard.
He disappeared in an instant, screams and cries growing louder.
It had been a bomb--small, probably hidden in a bag, Clark figured. His experience in the military told him as much. The damage, however, was not small, decimating several shops on one side of the street while chucking debris into the store fronts on the other side.
Shooting about, he moved large debris and relocated the injured into the road, forming a kind of triage area before transporting the most grievously injured to a hospital that was fortunately very close. He came back twice more, emergency personnel arriving not long after he had delivered the first patient.
“And you didn't see anyone near the bag?” a policewoman asked as she helped a man with a laceration.
“No, I just thought it was odd, since I saw it when I had left the store an hour earlier,” he said, before turning his attention away from the officer in surprise when he noticed Superman's presence.
“It was detonated remotely, officer,” Superman said.
“Remotely?” she asked, quickly facing him.
“There was another incident on the corner of Main and 6th that I think is related to this. I--” Superman cut himself off.
There was that whine again followed by a distant explosion.
“Hobbs Bridge. Send units,” he stated, before vanishing in a blur.
A second blast followed right next to the other he had just heard as he came upon the bridge, destabilizing the far end of the structure. He reacted automatically.
His hands gripped the bottom of an I-beam as another portion of the bridge came to rest on the back of his shoulders. He held it, preventing the crumbling bridge from immediately collapsing into the river. Hundreds of people clamored off, several leaving their cars while others skid their way back onto stable ground. Fortunately, the concrete of the four lane bridge held together on the structural support long enough for everyone to get off, but the bridge was a lost cause and eventually even Superman couldn't keep it in place.
As it and the cars left plummeted into the water, he flew up, searching for any unfortunate souls who might have fallen into the water. Miraculously, there was no one, but it was chilling to know that things would have been very different had he been a second later.
“Superman!” a man shouted from the far side, waving his arms in hopes of getting his attention. “Superman, another bomb!”
Clark was startled to realize it was Inspector Henderson and quickly landed.
“Where?” he asked, quickly scanning the immediate area even though he just had.
“The subway, at E Avenue junction. A backpack. I just got it over the radio. They're evacuating now.”
Clark nodded and immediately went, reminding himself to keep a wider ear out in the future. Granted, with that whine, his attention had been in the frequency range higher than their radio chat.
People were being ushered across the street, away from the subway’s entrance by police. He landed by the highest ranking officer he saw.
“People aren't joking when they say you're fast, Superman. Henderson just told me you were on your way,” the senior officer appraised as he put his radio down and got to business. Superman appreciated how professional and direct he was--his voice hadn't even stuttered at seeing him. “Well, we've finished clearing the area below and the bomb squad is on their way. The city has also initiated an emergency shutdown of the entire subway line.”
“Good. I see the bomb,” Superman said, looking slightly down and to the right after glancing at the officer’s name badge. It read Freit. “I would guess it’s similar in size to the one that went off on Lexingham Street.”
Officer Freit nodded and glanced at his watch. “That’s our guess as well, so the buildings on that side are being cleared now and should be empty within the next three minutes in case it goes off and damages their foundations. The bombsquad is ten minutes away.”
“I’m not sure we have that much time,” Superman warned. “Most of the others went off less than five minutes of one another.”
“Do you think you can diffuse the bomb?”
“Yes, but if they activate the trigger beforehand, there won't be time to diffuse it.”
“Trigger?”
“For the other bombs, I heard a high frequency before they went off. I believe they're being detonated remotely instead of from a timer.”
Freit’s eyes widened in alarm. “Could the people responsible be watching? Why haven't they detonated the bomb yet? Could they be waiting for the bombsquad?” He frowned. “Or you?”
Superman stilled in dawning horror. Things were occurring rather too coincidently. “If they're waiting for me in hopes of harming me, they will be disappointed. And if you're right, I would like to attempt to defuse the bomb now so others will not be at risk.”
“You want to go down before the bomb squad arrives?”
“If you would permit it,” he said.
Hesitantly, Freit nodded but raised a hand, requesting Superman to wait. Pressing the button on his radio, he asked for the status of the evacuation. However, before he got a response, Superman heard a familiar whine.
Freit saw the alarm on Superman’s face before he disappeared, his blur shooting down into the subway tunnel. He and everyone who had seen Superman’s expression braced themselves.
“Dispatch, Superman has entered the sub--”
THUD.
Shouts of surprise and alarm erupted as smoke plumed out from the entrance, but the entire street instantly fell silent when a figure marched up through it and into the clear air. He stopped in the sunlight and stood, as if being blown up was just a minor inconvenience.
His uniform was filthy, but he was astonishingly unharmed with his red cape billowing behind him as Officer Freit slowly approached.
O o O o O
Lois stepped out of the cab and quickly paid the driver before making her way up the street where yellow tape blocked off a large portion of the area.
“Ms. Lane, right on time,” Henderson said, waving her over which informed the officer's near to let her pass.
“Thanks, Bill, what do you have for me?” she asked, grateful for the friendly professional relationship they had. There were very few reporters that were allowed so close to evidence. However, she had proven herself multiple times and knew when to publicize news and when to wait.
“Officially? Nothing beyond the obvious, but unofficially, there is something we just discovered that is pretty alarming,” Bill said, subtly ensuring everyone else was out of earshot as he led her to the edge of the fallen bridge. “Cameras. There were video cameras, not part of the city’s system or any other known system, placed on and near the bridge. They covered multiple angles.”
“Cameras? Why?” Lois asked.
"The explosion was radio controlled, as were the other three, activated from unknown points of origin within a two mile radius of each site. Also, the bridge had two separate bombs placed on the north end. The other went off within a second before Superman arrived,” he said, not answering Lois’ question. “Superman left the backpack bomb site to come here and if he had been any later, everyone that had gotten off the bridge wouldn't have made it.”
Lois frowned. “You think someone orchestrated all of this to test Superman?”
“My friend in forensics covering the subway site informed me that, on top of finding cameras, they found microphones along the street. Special microphones. The sort used by sports stadiums that allow for the audience to better hear what's going on at a particular location on the field.”
"So you're saying that someone waited for Superman to arrive, watched and listened for the best moment, and then detonated the explosives?" Lois asked, wide-eyed.
“Yes, and if they were listening as we believe, they would have learned that Superman can hear the high frequency signal used to trigger the bombs. One of the officers stated Superman told him he could hear it not long before a bomb was triggered.”
Lois’ eyes widened. “Has anyone told Superman?”
“We haven't gotten the chance, but I have asked a few officers to inform him that I need to speak with him on something and to come find me as soon as possible,” he said.
“Well, if I see him before you get the chance, I'll tell him what you've told me and let you know,” Lois assured.
“Thank you. To know that someone is out there, not afraid to hurt anyone to get to him. . . .”
“Yes, it's absolutely horrible,” Lois agreed, already making plans on how to find the person responsible.
O o O
Lois dug through the paperwork diligently, trying to find any possible correlation between the bomb sites that could provide any sort of clue to who was behind obviously testing Superman.
The more she thought about it, the more her blood boiled.
Here was a man, who was selfless, beyond imagination, and expected nothing in return for saving lives, being tested.
Disgusting didn't even begin to describe how despicable it was.
“Good evening, Ms. Lane, I'm Murray Brown, Galactic Talent Agency, and I'm hoping you can help me. You see, I'm looking for the big guy, Superman, and since you interviewed him, I figured you could tell me how to find him or maybe give him a message for me?” he asked, stopping in front of her desk and breaking her from her thoughts rather abruptly with his loud tie and obnoxiously tacky suit.
“Well, you figured wrong,” Lois said, barely glancing at him.
“I'll leave my card just in case,” he said, handing her his card.
“You're a talent agent?” she asked, looking up from the card with one eyebrow raised.
“Artists’ representative,” he clarified.
“And you want to represent Superman?” she asked incredulously.
“Let me tell you something, cookie. Those buns of steel are money in the bank,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine, if I happen to see him, I'll give him your card,” she promised, waving him off while mentally adding 'and I'll tell him about your sense of fashion and overall sleazy demeanor.’
“Thank you, Ms. Lane. Quality control, that's Murray Brown’s middle name.”
She shook her head as he left with a bounce in his step.
O o O o O
“And you're really okay?” Martha asked again.
“Yes, mom, I'm fine. I just wish I could say the same for my suit. I feel really bad. . . . You had just made it last month,” Clark said, motioning to his ruined uniform folded on the table in his parents’ living room.
His mother waved his guilt away. “It's no problem, dear; I have plenty of material. I'm just relieved to know you're okay.”
“Have they learned anything about who could be responsible?” Jonathan asked, his concern on another aspect of what had happened.
“Superman spoke with Henderson a few hours ago and they found cameras and microphones, but they have no idea who could have orchestrated it all yet,” Clark admitted, ignoring his mother's expression when he spoke about himself in the third person.
“What?! Clark, someone is clearly after you! They probably hoped to have killed you,” Jonathan said, horrified.
“I know; I had already begun to suspect a set up before I came to the last site.”
“Honey, what are you going to do?” Martha asked.
“The same thing I always do. Investigate and get to the bottom of it.”
“And Superman?” Martha asked, torn between her motherly concern and the pride she felt in what she was certain would be her son's answer.
“I'm not going to let this dissuade me. I'll be more careful and mindful, but I can't let this stop what Superman does.”
“And you're sure there's no remnants of Trask’s group left that might have done this?” Jonathan asked.
“I’m sure Burton would have notified me if he suspected anyone, but I'll pay him a visit in the near future anyway,” Clark assured before sighing, his mind wandering to other concerns.
“What is it?” Martha asked.
“I don't know, mom, it's hard to explain. It doesn't have anything to do with the bombs, but more with everything else. Part of me feels silly for voicing it, and thus sort of complaining about it, but I had prepared myself so much for a negative response that what has happened instead is. . . . Why are you trying not to laugh?” he asked suddenly, which prompted Martha to give up and release her chuckle.
“I’m sorry, honey, but you're talking about the memorabilia, aren't you?” she asked.
“I'm an action figure! I can't believe how quickly companies moved. I mean, doesn't it take time for these sorts of things to be made? My emblem is
everywhere. It's unbelievable, really.”
“Well, you know, if there's a chance to make a buck, you can always bet a few people will take it,” Jonathan said, slightly annoyed by the world's greedy nature.
Clark paused, before looking thoughtful. “That’s money Superman could be using.”
Jonathan blinked. “Now be careful, Clark. Do you really want to enter into a legal battle? Is that something Superman would do?”
“No, but he also wouldn't allow his image to be abused either.” Clark suddenly smiled. “And I think I know exactly who to go to help with this. If I do it right, there won't be any court dates and everyone will be happy.”
Jonathan and Martha glanced at each other, not sure if they should be worried or not.
“Don't worry, it'll work out well.”
They nodded, hoping he was right.
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