[CHAPTER 13 - Proof]

Lois hurried into the control room of EPRAD as Mark Leon, an assistant to Dr. Daitch, waved her over.

"Thanks for getting here so quickly, Ms. Lane," he said as he motioned to the chair beside him facing a few computer screens.

The area was still a bustle of activity, but security was high and everything was being watched and evaluated. This corner of the control room was somewhat secluded, but within sight of the whole room and several security officers. The investigation was being conducted with a seriousness rarely seen, even in such high profile situations. Granted, it was hardly a surprise. Whatever or whoever had caused the rocket's malfunction had nearly cost Earth everything, not to mention her greatest protector.

"When I heard you had found something important, I dropped everything to get here," she said, hoping this was worth it, considering she had passed on the responsibility of attending the press conference at the Foundation that occurred at twelve.

Jimmy and George, a fellow reporter at the Planet, have better remember what she had done for them.

"It is, Ms. Lane. I've only told Daitch about it," he said. "He's getting something and is informing the investigators."

"Do you not have anyone else helping you?" she asked, surprised.

"Most everyone else is looking into the last readings of the rocket's control systems and the like. We've also limited a great deal of the personnel from helping in the investigation. We suspect an inside man. We can't risk them destroying any signs of their handiwork or worse."

Lois nodded, relieved, before thinking of something.

"Can I see a list of the people involved in the investigation?" she asked.

"You'd have to ask Daitch, but I don't see why not. Do you have a suspect?" he asked.

She nodded. "Two actually. I just want to be sure."

Mark smiled gravely. "Good idea. Anyway, here is what I've found."

He worked some magic on the screen and handed her a headset to listen to something.

"This is the recording of the broadcast a few minutes before we knew anything was wrong," he said as she put the headset on.

It was just soft static, since no one was talking, but then she heard a slight blurb sound within the static. If she didn't know there was something to be heard, she would have missed it.

"Did you hear it?" he asked.

"Yeah, that little hiccup?" she said, not quite certain.

He nodded. "I think the broadcast was spliced into in that moment."

"Which means . . . ?" she asked.

"What we all heard that day may not have contained everything that went across the coms. If it were me, I would have inserted a redirective path. It would have allowed Superman's transmissions to be intercepted and taken back while leaving the broadcast void of the transmission."

"Whoa," Lois said, taken aback.

So her theory was possible: someone may have communicated with Kal-El without them knowing.

"Yeah. But what I'm hoping is that Superman's helmet transferred a delayed feedback loop into the system -it's how we make backup recordings- bypassing the redirective path. We might be able to retrieve the data and listen to what had been sent, assuming anything was sent." He frowned and softly added, "At the very least, we should be able to hear anything Superman may have said in those last moments."

Lois pursed her lips, not sure how she felt about that as she recalled his heart rate. It must have been horrifying, knowing he was about to hit the asteroid with a rocket full of explosives.

Did he suspect he was going to die? Probably.

Mark looked behind her, an expression of concern passing over his face.

"Mark, Ms. Lane, good afternoon," said a familiar voice.

Lois turned to find Dr. Daitch behind her.

"Doctor," she said.

"Has Mark brought you up to speed?" he asked, forgoing pleasantries, which Lois was perfectly fine with.

"I just finished," Mark said. "Did you find it?"

Daitch nodded, passing him a flashdrive. "I made several copies. And I'm glad you're here, Ms. Lane. There's several things you need to know."

"Oh?"

"I've just notified EPRAD Command, but the original feedback loop from Superman's helmet in our communication system was deleted. Fortunately, I was able to retrieve a backup, which I have here, and I just gave the list of everyone who has access to that system to General Zeitlin," he explained.

"Surely that's not why you look so worried," Lois inquired.

"No. I just learned that Prometheus' orbital control systems are failing. They have less than three days before they reenter the atmosphere. They won't be able to stabilize their decent, and it's doubtful that even if they could they would be able to prevent burn up. The space station wasn't designed for it."

"Can't we do something?" Lois asked, seeking a solution.

"We don't have time to outfit a rocket and shuttle to provide equipment and commence repairs," he said gravely. "If you recall, the closest available rocket, the Phoenix, had been gutted and filled with explosives. We can't undo those changes and prepare what we need in time to help."

"That's terrible!"

"We've sent an urgent message to the Superman Foundation, but considering what he said earlier today, I doubt he'll be able to help either - with the rocket or otherwise," Daitch said regretfully, brushing his hair back with his hand in despair.

Lois covered her mouth in equal dismay.

All those people. . . .

O o O o O

Sitting on his bed on the third floor of the Foundation, Kal-El put his face in his hands as the light from the lamps Dr. Klein had vastly improved shined down on his bare back.

Word about Prometheus had reached him, and he couldn't do anything to help. He felt so utterly useless.

He didn't know how to use, let alone control, over half of what he was supposed to be able to do. It had taken almost an hour to regain his normal sight, even with the lead vest they had procured from the nearby hospital's radiology department. He didn't even want to imagine how long it would have taken him without it.

Currently, fine control was still beyond his reach, but at least he had learned how to turn each of his vision abilities on and off - for whatever good that did.

If only he could remember!

He shook his head. Rebuking himself.

Sitting there feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to help.

He stood up, giving up on getting the rest Dr. Klein wanted him to get. He wasn't tired anyway. But he did unplug and pick up one of the lamps to take with him after getting his blue shirt back on. He decided to forgo his shoes though. They were a little on the small side. Socks should be fine, since the second floor was carpeted and much more relaxed than the first floor that was fairly open to the public.

Stepping from the stairwell onto the second floor, he found a dozen volunteers still working through the donations and mail that had just arrived. Unbelievably, it was only 3 o'clock. A few people were seated around one of the tables while the rest were sitting on the carpet among dozens of boxes and supplies.

"Sup--Kal-El, were we being too loud?" the head volunteer, Leia, asked worriedly while glancing in confusion at the lamp he was carrying.

"No, I'm just not tired. Is there anything I can help you all with?" he asked, ignoring the awe-filled looks of the other volunteers.

Honestly, there wasn't a single fully composed person in his presence at the moment but they were getting better.

"Oh! Uh, sure. We're organizing package donations and opening mail, as you can see. We could use more help with either," she said.

He smiled and made his way to the table, sitting down on the empty chair at the corner beside a teenage boy after plugging in the lamp and turning it on so he could continue soaking in some concentrated rays. Everyone grinned at him, each with varying amounts of excited nervousness.

"So we have packages and letters. Which do you prefer?" Leia asked, deciding not to ask about the lamp.

"Letters will be fine," he said, seeing that pile was much larger.

A teenage girl across from him shyly slid over a stack for him to begin going through.

The first handful were pretty simple, all addressed to the Superman Foundation and thanking them for their work. Of those, several included a request for Superman to make an appearance at their fundraiser or the like while others included a check. There were over five hundred dollars in three letters alone.

"Is this typical?" he asked after setting the envelope aside and jotting down the sender and amount donated on the clipboard set aside for such record keeping.

"Yes, although this is the largest shipment we've received to date," Leia said.

He resumed by opening the next letter, this time this one was addressed to himself.

"All letters addressed to you we open, prioritize, and set aside for you. Mr. Ervin said you see to them once a week," Leia said quietly upon seeing the envelope's sender information.

By the child's handwriting, it was clear this was not a formal letter from some organization seeking favor or offering support.

He slowly nodded and pulled out a single, folded sheet of paper. Above a crayon drawn image of what could only be himself lifting an ambulance, Kal read a child’s scrawl.


Superman,

My brother's name is Luke. You saved his life after a semi-truck hit his school bus. You froze him and then flew the ambulance to the hospital so he would make it to the doctors in time. I know you don't remember right now, but I wanted you to know. I also sent you a picture of him so you can see what he looks like. Maybe it will help.

I hope you get better and remember again soon.

Thank you,

Tally


He picked up the picture that fell free from the folded letter flap, taking in the boy’s band uniform and spotting the trombone placed on display in the corner behind him. He couldn’t have been older than 13.

“We get a lot of letters like those,” Leia said softly.

“I don’t remember doing any of these feats," he said, automatically memorizing the boy's features for a reason he didn't fully understand as his vision seemed to cloud around the edges.

Missing persons.

Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, from all over the world. Boys and girls, men and women, young and old.

He must keep an eye out.

Always. Just in case.

Because he could.

A girl. A Chinese girl, in a market of the most despicable kind.

The scene manifested before his eyes and he was no longer aware of the table he was sitting at with volunteers sifting through letters.

Faces passed before his mind's eye, each bringing forth emotions that lacked an origin or cause he could recall. But they were all powerful.

Some brought forth resounding sadness: an unspoken acknowledgement that the soul they represented would never be seen again in this life.

Many pulled up rage within his heart, and he was reminded of the first scene containing a Chinese child among filth and unimaginable abuse.

Who were these people?

But others surged up the sensation of peace, as if they were now safe and home again. It soothed his soul and incited something that shocked him: pride and accomplishment -- in himself.

The feelings rose and fell so rapidly upon each face that he couldn't process or think on each for more than a blink before the next came and went. Nameless faces that held such importance to his subconscious that they still resided in his mind, however fragmented or incomplete, and evoked undeniable emotion.

EEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiii.

The high pitched whine cut through his mind, shattering his hold on the images as a thrum of imminent danger rattled his whole being like a sledgehammer to the side of the head.

Clasping his hands over his ears and dropping Luke’s photo, he instinctively stood up, bashing his chair backward onto the floor, but his heart thundered in warning as he then heard a click that he somehow knew meant death to anyone near.

He whipped around toward the noise, instantly x-raying everything in view.

He zeroed in on it quickly, instinctively knowing what it was and that he had no time. No time to defuse, but maybe. . . .

He dashed forward, oblivious to the fact everyone around him seemed to be frozen in time, and snatched up the disguised bomb before barreling down the stairs and out to the front of the building, mindful not to bump into anyone.

There were too many people and he wasn't confident that he would be able to smother it like he apparently had with the bomb in the subway, so he would need to go somewhere that was void of people or structures--and quickly because he didn’t know how much time he had. There was no viewable timer or clock like the movies, but he did know if this bomb went off at street level, the result would be very similar to the memory he had had about the warzone and the buried man.

He looked up and decided on an impromptu plan made purely of desperation and hope. He bent his legs and jumped as hard as he could, knowing that even though he couldn't fly, hopefully he could jump high enough before throwing it as he began to fall or made it clear of the buildings currently above before it exploded.

He didn't spare a thought about his coming back down.

The sidewalk cracked beneath the soles of his sock covered feet, but he didn't notice as the air whipped past him.

He was above the Foundation in his next blink, and then forty . . . fifty feet up and still ascending. He was almost above the surrounding buildings as he heard a deafening second click.

He was aware of the people on the floors just on the other side of the walls near as he enclosed himself as much as he could around the heinous package. And then it detonated.

The pressure was immense, but the heat was even more so. It threw him like a ragdoll, as if angered by his nerve to dampen its mission, to obstruct its purpose to destroy.

He couldn't tell which way was up or down as he tumbled head over heels away from the expanding flames and smoke, like an errant football that would not be making it between any goal posts.

He heard screaming, shouts of dismay and fear as the tingle of shattered glass peppered his hearing.

And then he could make out the ground and the sky, flipping between one another in a sickening dance until his body finally decided to simply plummet head down.

O o O

The end of the day arrived for Harvey Halloway and he could hardly wait for dinner. Stepping from the office building where he organized expenses for business accounts, a loud crack startled him. Looking straight across the street, he saw a blur of blue shoot up from the concrete and rise faster than a rocket.

Superman?

He gaped as many other people in the vicinity looked up.

An ear-spitting, heart pounding, all-encompassing boom pierced the air.

The sound was far louder than one would expect considering the size of the explosion, but the reason why it had been so small was clear as a form tumbled out from the resulting flash and smoke. Glass from the closest buildings' windows showered down, but all eyes were on the human shape.

“Superman!” someone cried.

His form appeared to be limp and flipping uncontrolled, arching up and over the office building beside Harvey’s work. Harvey ran around the corner, spotting the blue form just barely miss the top edge of the building and careen toward the street filled with slow moving cars whose drivers were just beginning to head home.

People screamed as his body continued to careen straight down like a rock with his head coming down first.

Hurrying forward, Harvey jumped when he heard Superman shout out.

Everything slowed to a crawl as an SUV screeched to a halt and Superman continued to fall, although he seemed to be with it enough to lift his arms to shield his head in anticipation of impact.

But it never came.

Superman stopped in mid-air, suspended on nothing but empty space with his arms and head less than a foot away from the SUV’s windshield with his torso and legs angled sharply above the hood. Everyone stared in astonished relief.

Time went back to normal as Superman’s smouldering form was suddenly pulled by gravity again, but with the greatly reduced velocity he merely landed on the hood with a surprised grunt and rolled off onto the pavement with a dull thud.

And didn’t move.

Harvey wasn’t the only one who dashed out into the street. Two others beat him there and quickly knelt over Superman. He was face down, head partially cradled in the crook of his elbow, and he was breathing heavily.

“Superman, are you alright?!” the first asked. He was a thin, old man in a dark suit that made him look like an undertaker.

“I’ll call an ambulance!” the shaken driver of the SUV exclaimed, getting out of her car.

"What the heck happened?!" the second man asked, hesitating when he felt the burning heat ebbing from Superman’s still body. Should he be moved?

"Someone tried to blow up the Foundation!" Harvey answered, putting what he had seen together and going with the most logical conclusion.

"It was . . ." Superman began between breaths, his head still nestled in his arm. "It was disguised as a donation."

"Are you hurt? Tell us what to do," the first man said, not the only one relieved to hear the Kryptonian talking.

"The bomb was . . . very hot, so don't touch me. I just need a moment," he managed, though he had yet to lift his head or move.

"I'll say, there's still smoke coming off you and what I can see of the front of your shirt -- it was a doozy," the first said.
"Do you need water?" Harvey asked.
"Here, you can have this. I keep it in my car in case it overheats," a fourth bystander said, hurrying over with a gallon of water.

"Can you turn over?" the second asked, still squatting next to him, careful not to get his nice pants dirty but still wanting to help.

Superman shifted himself and managed to lift himself on his forearms as he looked up. Harvey and the others couldn't help but stare.

The bottom portion of his face was covered in soot, and it extended up beyond his cheeks due to the direction of the blast. The front of his blue shirt was nearly completely black with almost none of his emblem visible. Portions of his shirt had burned through, although, oddly, areas one would have thought should have been were not. It was as if anything in direct contact with his skin was saved from the worst of the flames.

Slowly, he turned and sat up, resting his back against the hubcap of the SUV and revealing his jeans had not been left unscathed either, although thankfully he didn't need to worry about his dignity.

Mid-thigh down to his knees, the front of his jeans were charred and in tatters, no doubt where he had brought his legs up over the bomb to better contain it.

But his exposed skin was unharmed. It wasn't even red.

"Let me see that water," Harvey said, removing his outer shirt and bunching it up before taking the offered gallon of water, which he then poured over his shirt. He offered it to Superman. "Here, you probably want to get that stuff off your skin."

"Thank you," Superman said, gratefully taking it and cleaning his face as best he could. "We will need to give this to forensics. Although unlikely, they'll want to make sure there's no evidence on it."

"No problem," Harvey said, unconcerned about the shirt as they heard sirens of the approaching ambulance the driver had called.

Harvey swallowed, taking a moment to just look at what was before him now that things had calmed down and no one was in immediate danger. Superman wasn't even wearing shoes. He must have spotted the bomb just as it had been about to go off. At least he wasn't breathing heavily anymore.

The ambulance arrived and pulled up beside them as the traffic obediently cleared out - although people along the sidewalks continued to gather in hopes of getting a better view of Superman.

"No, Superman, let them check you over first," Harvey said quickly when Superman moved to get up.

Superman stopped and eased himself back onto the pavement with an agreeable nod as the paramedics came out.

Harvey was astonished by his own audacity but was even more stunned by the fact Superman had actually listened to him.

"We are going to need everyone to back up to the sidewalk please," the front paramedic said. He was a large black man who could have doubled as a linebacker for the Buffalo Bills. He then looked down in mild surprise at Superman who was still resting against the woman's vehicle. "Hey, Superman, back in action already? Weren't you supposed to take it easy for two to three weeks? Going against doctor's orders already?" he teased.

"Yeah well, you know how it is," Superman returned with a smile. "I get bored easily."

The paramedic knelt down and Harvey wished he could remain to watch but knew better than to risk getting in the way.

O o O

Al Berkins knelt down beside the last person he thought he would ever be meeting as the bystanders grudgingly pulled back.

"Bored, eh?" he asked, trying not to stare too hard at the damage the bomb had done to Superman's clothing while his flesh beneath revealed no damage at all. "All right, let's see how you're doing," he said, taking out a flashlight while a second paramedic put a pulse oximeter on his forefinger.

"I think I'm okay now. I was disoriented more than anything," Superman said.

"Well, from what I remember from your stats on the broadcast of Nightfall, I agree with you, although your body temperature is notably lower," Al said after quickly completing the basic patient evaluation.

Superman frowned. "How much lower?"

"Three degrees. You're sitting right at 97.5 degrees Fahrenheit."

"Shoot. I lost a degree. I guess this proves my doctor's theory," Superman sighed.

"Theory?" Al asked, intrigued and very curious to learn about their planet's literal savior.

"My body temperature is pretty much an indication of how I'm doing," he explained vaguely.

"I see,” Al said, wondering how much this had set the Kryptonian back. “Think you can stand?”

He nodded, prompting Al and another paramedic to help him up, although it quickly became apparent he didn’t really need it as the growing crowd cheered as he rose.

O o O o O

It took Mark an hour to retrieve and convert the data into something they could listen to and actually hear. The only good thing about the wait was that it provided General Zeitlin and others heading the investigation with enough time to join them so they could listen as well.

"All right, I think I got it. I had to max out the sensitivity since the feedback loop seems to have muffled everything. Hopefully we'll be able to hear what was recorded," Mark said, trying not to display his nervousness since several people present could easily dictate his future at EPRAD.

"Let's hear it then," Zeitlin stated, not the only one growing impatient.

Lois had to stop herself from tapping her foot.

The small but important group huddled behind the computer, hoping what they were about to hear would be the piece to the puzzle they needed to figure out what had happened.

The computer's speakers seemed to strain against what was being demanded of them, but after a moment the static gave way to speech.

“Superman, you have a choice to make in the next minute or so. The rocket has been rigged to veer off course and detonate prematurely if it no longer detects your presence, so you can either allow the mission to fail - and potentially make the overall situation worse - or remain with the rocket to the end,” a voice said, positively dripping with glee. “I already know what you're going to do, of course, but the illusion of choice and all that. But even if you were to choose the second option, I have contingencies. The new world would need to have a ruler, no? But either way, I really just couldn't allow myself to miss such a wonderful opportunity after you lost me billions without even knowing. After all, I wouldn't be where I am today if I didn't recognize and remove threats. So, any last words?”

“You are setting the groundwork for your own downfall. The truth will be known sooner or later, and in the end you will have to answer for everything you have done, in this life or the next, Luthor," Superman said.

Ten seconds passed before they heard the alarm alerting Superman to release the rocket. Soon after, a reply to Superman's words came.

“So your hearing is as excellent as they say; I wasn't completely sure if you'd be able to hear me, let alone recognize my voice. But no matter, I admit I will grieve the loss of such a worthy opponent. Farewell, Superman.”

Luthor severed his com, and suddenly all they could really hear was Superman's breathing for two long seconds, before the silence was broken.

“I will make it back. I will not die. I will not let a deranged narcissist dictate my end. I swear it.”

His breathing quickly changed to the point it sounded as if he was hyperventilating. Lois knew he was trying to empty his lungs as much as possible to inhale all the fresh oxygen he could. And then he took a long deep breath before --

There was a horrendous sound of crunching metal followed by a high pitched whine signaling the lack of a signal. Mark stopped the playback.

No one spoke for a long moment. Everyone completely speechless. Until it was broken by a gruff explicit.

Lois wasn't sure who spoke but she couldn't agree more.

"By the end of the day, either Luthor will be arrested or I'll give up every single star on my shoulder," General Zeitlin declared before storming out, enraged, with Lois hot on his heels.

“General!” she shouted, jogging to his side. He didn’t slow but glanced at her in silent invitation. She took it. “I have some things you might want to know. . . .”

O o O o O

Lex Luthor stared at the screen, watching the recording yet again.

It just never got old.

Although it had not ended the way he had hoped, it was progress, and watching the beginning especially was very satisfying.

Watching Superman’s body flip uncontrollably through the air from the explosion before plummeting like a brick . . . he got a warm shiver of pleasure up his spine every time he watched it. He, Lex Luthor, brought down a god. And one day, he would do it permanently.

The information he managed to retrieve from the audio recordings proved it was just a matter of time and planning.

The video cameras unfortunately didn’t capture the alien’s landing but the mics had, and they had also captured a nice little tidbit from Superman himself. Explosions did affect him, so much so that it, apparently, was measurable. There was a chink in his armor, he just needed to keep chipping at it hard enough that the ‘Man of Steel’ wouldn’t be able to recover fast enough before receiving a fatal blow.

He grinned as he pushed ‘rewind’ before pushing play again.

At the moment where Superman blurred out of the building, he suddenly heard a commotion outside his private quarters. Odd. He rose from his chair, about to yell at Mrs. Cox about not disturbing him as he paused the video, leaving the screen frozen on the shot of Superman's form tumbling from the ball of fire and smoke.

However, before he could inquire, the double doors into his locked, private office were suddenly bashed down and over a dozen men in full tactical gear stormed in.

“Get down on the floor!” the front man roared as two others rushed forward and pulled Luthor, none too gently, onto the floor, yanking his arms behind his back.

“What is the meaning of this!?” Luthor bellowed, actually a bit stunned that they didn’t give him more forewarning - or a forewarning at all.

“You are under arrest!” the head man declared as handcuffs were tightly applied.

“For what?!” Luthor spat, enraged.

“Conspiracy to Commit Mass Murder, Sabotage, the Murder of Miranda Fairchild, and a load of other charges too numerous to mention,” he answered before rattling off his Miranda Rights while glancing at the television. His eyes narrowed.

“I’ll have your badge for this! I can afford a thousand attorneys! I’ll have all of your heads for this!” Luthor screamed as they hoisted him up and carried him away, completely unimpressed by his words and disgusted by the paused scene still on the television screen behind him.

O o O o O

Lois took a deep breath as she dug into her double chocolate fudge ice cream.

That evening’s edition of the Daily Planet was a record making page turner with nearly every single article being first page material.

LEX LUTHOR ARRESTED FOR SABOTAGE OF ASGARD!

SUPERMAN THWARTS BOMBING OF FOUNDATION!

PROMETHEUS ORBIT IN DANGER

SUPERMAN'S RECOVERY SET BACK

LUTHOR, SUSPECTED CRIME BOSS

Perry was beside himself with glee, declaring he was as happy as Elvis had been singing ‘It’s Now or Never’, the King’s favorite song. The follow up stories would no doubt branch beyond the new year and likely be page ones more often than not. From uncovering the heinous crimes Luthor's empire (and yes, empire) had orchestrated to updating the public on EPRAD and Superman's activities and progress, the Daily Planet would not have a shortage of enticing stories to report on any time soon.

Lois eased herself back on the couch, wondering if Henderson had heard from Mav at all. She wondered how Kal was doing.

She, of course, had been horrified to learn what had happened at the Foundation but was even more concerned when she learned Kal had been blown up (again) and the fact that an ambulance had been called out. Thankfully, they had not really been needed and had merely looked him over before driving him back to his Foundation, but still.

It was an hour later when Mav gave the public an update saying Superman's physician had indicated that the bombing had set his recovery back, but they couldn't be sure by how much. However, despite that, he was doing fine and suffered no injuries.

Lois sighed, hoping Kal-El was resting, as her phone rang.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hi, Lois? It's Kal-El."

She immediately straightened up, almost dropping her ice cream covered spoon on herself. Some of it dripped off.

"Kal, hi!" she said, now attempting to mop up some of the spilt ice cream from her shirt while trying to maintain control of the phone and spoon.

"I just wanted to congratulate you. Dr. Daitch called Mav and gave us a summary of the things that had transpired leading up to Luthor's arrest. He felt we had a right to know," Kal said.

"Oh, thanks. Things moved pretty fast after we heard the backup of your helmet's recording. I'm glad that what I found during my investigation and what Henderson had gotten from a PI was able to help things along," she said, giving up on salvaging her shirt and just putting her spoon down. "It certainly helped convince the judge to act as swiftly as he did, otherwise it would have just all been on that single recording. The evidence that Luthor's likely a crime boss on top of it all provided the last push."

"I gather there is going to be some follow up? Daitch mentioned a few other people at EPRAD getting arrested and some of Luthor's secretaries or something?"

"Yeah, Liam Price, the mole in EPRAD was caught, and there are things linking back to the attempted sabotage of Prometheus that are sending up more red flags. As for people around Luthor, yeah, his personal assistant, Mrs. Cox, and his butler, Nigel St John, have been arrested. Apparently the PI I mentioned before had gathered evidence against the butler and had contacted the British government before Nightfall, so Britain is going to get involved there before too long."

"Who's the PI?" Kal asked.

"A friend of Henderson, Clark Kent. I haven't met him but, from what I've heard and seen, he's good at what he does."

"Good to know. Has anything more been uncovered about Luthor?" Kal asked.

Lois laughed. "Oh, most definitely. As soon as they were able to get that No-Knock Warrant against Luthor, more evidence just poured from the walls - according to Henderson anyway. There's going to be a lot more arrests coming. Luthor had his fingers in everything," Lois said, still baffled with it all herself.

She had known Luthor had been the Boss, but actually hearing from Henderson about everything they were finding. . . . It was nuts.

"It's nuts," Lois said. "And there's talk that International Court is going to get involved and prosecute him for Crimes Against Humanity. Of course, there's some legal questions with it all, but as far as I'm concerned, he knowingly put the entire world at risk in an attempt to get revenge while accepting and preparing for the chance of his sabotage working too well and giving him a chance to become the ruler of the 'new world'. If that isn't a crime against humanity, what the heck is!?"

"That's a good point," Kal agreed.

"Sorry, sorta fell into a rant there."

"Well, you're not wrong. What he's done is reprehensible. Evil really."

"Yeah. Anyway, how are you? I mean, I heard about what happened."

Kal sighed. "It seems to have set me back a day or two. The only good thing is is that I seem to have full control of my visual abilities now and my speed is definitely back online. Flight is still touchy, but we suspect I just don't have enough energy yet to really maintain it."

"You remember how to fly?" she asked, thrilled for him.

"Float would be a more fitting word at the moment," Kal admitted. "But I suppose it's progress."

"Progress is progress. . . . And your memories?" she asked after a moment.

"They're . . . confusing. I've had some more flashes, a few frankly disturbing but, well, I don't really want to talk about them right now to be honest. I'm hoping I'll remember more so I can make better sense of them."

"I understand. I'm glad things are coming back though, even if they're not making sense at the moment," Lois answered, idly stirring her melting ice cream while hoping the amount spilt wouldn’t stain.

"Well, I better go. The doc wants me under his new lamps and to try to get some sleep. He's hoping they'll be more effective since he focused the wave lengths."
"Alright. I should head to bed myself as well."

"Good night, Lois."

"Good night."

Kal hung up, leaving Lois content despite a bowl of uneaten, melted double chocolate fudge ice cream sitting in front of her.
_____________________________________________

Comments