Injustice Folc4evernaday
Chapter 8: Dancing Through the Fire
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Present Day…Lucy frowned, staring at the small envelope sitting on the coffee table. She looked over to where her mother was seated, nervously wringing her hands as she kept her focus on the envelope.
“What exactly did the woman say?” Lucy asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“She said and I quote,
‘Keep digging, and more will die.’” Her mother let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head. “What exactly has Lois gotten herself mixed into?”
Lucy glanced over to where Jon was napping content on the couch. “I’m not sure Lois has gotten herself mixed into much of anything lately other than trying to find that girl that was kidnapped a few weeks ago.”
“Should we open it?” her mother asked.
________________________________________
Perry ran a hand across his chin, stroking the weary lines as he finished making his notes on the notepad in front of him. The assistant editor that had been hired typically worked the weekends. Still, given how much turmoil had been kicked up after the recent story, he figured it best to put in a few hours and give Marcus some guidance on how to handle any issues that may arise.
“Almost ready?”
He looked up from his notepad, smiling at Alice, who was dressed in a red and white sundress, waiting patiently for him to follow through on his promise for an afternoon together away from the stress of their careers and the everyday hustle and bustle. A smile spread across his face, “I’m just about done here.”
“You’re just supposed to leave him a few notes, not a novel,” Alice joked, looking over at the half-page he had already written.
“I know,” Perry chuckled, “There’s a lot going on.”
“There’s always a lot going on,” Alice reminded him, reaching over to pull the notepad away from him. “Come on, let’s get out of here, you old hound dog. Everything will still be waiting here for you on Monday.”
Perry nodded, standing up from his desk and making his way across his office to where Alice was seated. He held out his arm for her to take and turned toward the door to leave. She took his arm and leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek.
“Perry, leaving so soon?”
They stopped mid-stride, seeing the tall figure of Senator Michael Harris blocking their exit as he stood just outside Perry’s office door. Perry’s brows furrowed when he saw the senator, certain this visit was not a social call. “What is it, Senator?”
Harris held up a copy of the Daily Planet’s latest edition with the story on the corruption covering up a missing girl’s kidnapping. Harris let out a long sigh, “Perry, Perry, I thought the board made the stance on where they stood on this clear.”
“You mean,
not printing something that is considered
newsworthy?” Alice interrupted, shaking her head at Harris. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Trying to hide that poor girl’s kidnapping for what? Crooked politicians that are helping line their pockets?”
Harris slammed his fist against the door frame, “The news is what we
say it is. This is just another kid that’s runaway ….”
“But you don’t know that unless it’s investigated,” Perry shot back. “If you read the article, it’s not about the missing girl but the lack of coverage on her disappearance.”
“We know what you’re doing,” Harris growled. “This won’t end well.”
“The Daily Planet prints the news,” Perry said proudly, pushing past the senator. “You have a problem with that, then read a different paper.”
“Perry, don’t you walk away from me!” Harris called after him, but Perry had already turned the corner to where the elevator doors were.
Alice glanced over her shoulder, “That didn’t sound good.”
“It never does with him,” Perry grumbled. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
________________________________________
Lois felt her blood run cold as she stared at the images. One photo after another displayed girls blindfolded with duct tape across their mouths that couldn’t be any older than eleven or twelve. Each haunting image sent a rush of rage through her as she flipped through each photo and read the words carved into the glossy finish.
‘Back off or they die.’“Normally, I wouldn’t open your mail, sis, but that lady really creeped mom out,” Lucy explained, passing another stack of glossy photos toward her. “And it doesn’t look like the threat is just at those girls.”
“What is it?” Lois asked, noting both her sister and mother’s apprehension.
Clark reached over to unfold the paper the photos were wrapped in and almost immediately dropped them on the floor, allowing the black and white photos to scatter on the ground. Lois opened her mouth to inquire further and quickly closed it when she spotted the black and white images scattered on the floor. Images of Jon, herself and Clark going about their day to day life were strewn across the floor. Each image had a time stamp printed on the bottom of it. She felt a sick sense of dread wash over her as she reached down to pick up a few of the photos, noting the date at the bottom was as early as two months ago.
Two months.
They’d been stalking her son for nearly two months at least.
Clark was noticeably quiet, grinding his jaw with even breaths as he flipped through the photos he’d retrieved from what had fallen earlier. Lucy sat across from them and appeared to be waiting them out as the room had turned pretty grim since her mother and Lucy’s revelation of the unwelcome package's arrival.
Her mother was uncharacteristically quiet, mulling over what to say or do. She reached a hand over to place it on Lois’ shoulder, “I, uh, put Jon down about a half-hour ago. He seems to have perked up from earlier in the week. His temp stayed within the normal range, so I think he’s in the clear now from whatever bug got in his system.”
Lois nodded, silently feeling the tears well up in the corners of her eyes. She could hear the fear and anguish in her mother’s voice as she spoke. What could she say?
Lucy cleared her throat, “Look, I can stick around if you need me to…”
Clark shook his head, tightening his jaw as he spoke up, “You’ve done more than enough, Luce. We’ll be fine and try to….”
“Of course,” Lucy nodded, standing up from her seat across from him. “Well, if you change your mind just give me a call.”
Lois nodded, unable to voice her thanks, or find a way to articulate the range of emotions she was feeling. She’d barely even mentioned the girl that was missing in her article. But that was apparently enough to trigger an onslaught of threats from they mysterious kidnapper who was not only threatening the girls they had in their possession already but her son. Her beautiful son was now being threatened for exposing the corruption and cover-up in this case.
The front door closed, and she heard the click from her mother’s retreating footsteps against the pavement. She tucked her lower-lip inside her mouth, biting down in frustration against the flesh as she choked out a strangled sob. Between each labored breath, she became aware of two strong arms cradling her and let out a whimper, resting her cheek against her husband’s chest.
“These people are not going to win, Lois,” Clark whispered firmly. “I don’t care if I have to go fly Jon to another continent to keep him out of their reach, but they are not going to get away with this.”
“They’ve been watching him for months.” Lois finally found her voice. The more she thought about it, the more her mind raced, trying to understand how they had known about this story for as long as they had. Nothing had been printed. The sources she’d spoken with were trusted people she had always done business with.
“I know,” she heard Clark’s voice crack under the weight of the emotion he was trying to hold back.
“I don’t get it. I haven’t talked to anyone out of the ordinary. I…How have they known about this for two months?” Lois let out a frustrated wail as she struggled to calm the nagging in the back of her mind. “I’m so sorry. I never should have…”
“Hey, hey, hey, don’t.” Clark reached over to cup her cheek. “We both made the decision to go to print with that story. For some reason these people have been made to feel like they’re invincible and continue to commit crimes with no consequences. Our jobs are to expose the truth and fight for those that can’t fight for themselves.”
“Not at Jon’s expense,” Lois argued, shaking her head adamantly.
“I refuse to let these people bully us into being another silent voice.” Clark scowled, resting his chin against her head. “We’re going to stop these guys. They’ll have to get through you and me both to get anywhere near Jon.” He ran a hand across her cheek and smiled, “And my money’s on you.”
Lois leaned her head back to gaze back at him with a smile, “I guess there’s no reason to hold back anymore. Let’s hit ‘em with everything we’ve got.” She blanched slightly, clamping her hand over her mouth.
“Lois?”
“I’m going to be sick,” she managed to mumble out before sprinting to the half bathroom to empty her stomach.
________________________________________
Three Years Ago…Bill Church Jr. sat at his desk with Gene Newtrich, watching the robbery's playback from earlier that morning. The image showed the crooks storming through the lobby doors, holding the hostages at bay. A moment later, the elevator doors opened, and the individuals on board were forced off with the remainder of the hostages. A moment later, Superman was there, ready to stop them.
“This is where Superman comes in! I talk to him and then—” Gene froze the picture, “There! That’s when we opened the box. When he got within about ten feet, his mood changed. Suddenly, it was like he didn’t care.”
Bill Church Jr. let out a chuckle, clapping his hands as he burst out in laughter, “Oh. This is perfect! This is better than killing him! He just doesn’t care!”
“My team can do another job for you if you’d like, Mr. Church,” Newtrich added with a grin. He tapped the metal box proudly, “With this beauty of course.”
Church nodded, watching as the footage showed Perry trying to reason with Superman as Newtrich and his team made off with the safe. His head cocked to the side as he stared at the image, wondering aloud, “Is it me, or does it seem like Perry knows Superman a little better than an editor of a major metropolitan newspaper should?”
“Well, he did save his life a few times,” Gene commented, not following.
“Right,” Church nodded, unconvinced.
________________________________________
Agent Patrick McCord tapped on each cubicle corner as he passed by each cubicle, scanning each one in search for the infamous Daniel Scardino in the Washington office. He’d heard his fair share of stories about the agent and had come across many that had crossed him and lived to tell about it. Many of the stories seemed too crazy to be true, but given the stories that had traveled through the agency he was inclined to believe them.
Ever since Scardino’s fiancée had died on assignment, he had become consumed with tracking down her killers and bringing them to justice. It was that devotion that he needed in order to catch the guy responsible for this new drug that had come on the market. He had hoped he would get somewhere with the FBI but found himself stonewalled.
“You tap on my door, and I’m going to knock you into next week,” a voice grumbled from the corner at the end of the aisle.
McCord jumped back, seeing the scruffy looking agent with dark mangled hair and unkept goatee approach him with his fist wrapped around an aluminum bat as he dragged it against the tile floor.
“You makin’ enough noise there or you want to go get a set of drums to go along with it?”
“You must be Scardino,” McCord said, noting the nameplate outside the agent’s office door.
“You must be an idiot,” Scardino shot back, turning on his heel to go back inside his office.
“Wait!” McCord called after him. “I need your help.”
“I don’t work with others,” Scardino called over his shoulder.
“It’s about the case you were following last year. The one on Agent Blake.” McCord continued, trying to grab Scardino’s attention.
Scardino turned on his heel, glaring sharply at McCord, “What about it?”
McCord held up his notepad, waving it back and forth, “Ever hear of the name Schiller when you were in Turkey?”
Scardino let out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms over his chest, “No, should I have?”
“Well, the site you were investigating….” McCord began, running a hand across the back of his head trying to bide his time as he scrambled to find the words without triggering Scardino even further.
“Spit it out.” Scardino rolled his eyes. “Let’s start at the top. Where are you from, Agent?”
“How do you know I…?” McCord furrowed his brow, cutting himself off on his question when he noticed his badge was still hanging around his neck. “Right.”
Scardino smirked, showing the first sign of a sense of humor since he’d stumbled across the disgruntled agent. “Patrick McCord. Field Agent. I was just recently transferred back to the states after a stint out in Quebec and am trying to run down an open case. I was hoping you might be a little more helpful than the FBI.”
Scardino snorted at his last remark, “Don’t count on it.”
“Look, I think the same guys you’re after are the same ones I’m after.”
“What makes you say that?” Scardino asked, leaning back against the doorframe.
McCord sighed, running a hand through the back of his head as he explained his plight to Scardino. “This is where my sources were able to place my last person of interest before he disappeared completely.”
“Who is your person of interest? This Schiller character?”
“Yes,” McCord waved the photo in his hand. “We found traces of something…Something we’ve never seen before along with evidence Schiller had been there in the last six months.”
“What makes you think this Schiller character has anything to do with my case?” Scardino asked, still unmoved by the information McCord had presented.
“This,” McCord handed the phone to Scardino. The sound of the aluminum bat striking the tile floor echoed through the hall just before Scardino reached up pointed his index finger at McCord, motioning for him to follow him inside his office.
“Where did you get this?” Scardino asked, fishing for something out of his disarray of file folders spread across his office.
“Village just outside of Beğendik,” McCord answered.
“That’s the place,” Scardino said, revealing his own photo of the same location from one of his files. He pointed to the chair across from his desk, “Take a seat. Let’s see if there’s anything else crossing paths before we get too ahead of ourselves.”
________________________________________
Lois fiddled with the silver knob on her Rolodex, uncertain what her next move should be. Who was she supposed to call? What was she supposed to do when she couldn’t even explain what had happened? She stole another glance toward the elevators, noting that the same three people who had been there two minutes ago were still deep in conversation.
The phone sitting on her desk rang, and she practically jumped out of her skin, reaching over to answer it as she fumbled to keep her grip on the handset before finally answering it with a feigned calm she didn’t feel. “Lois Lane.”
“Lois?” The midwestern drawl of Wayne Irig came over the line before he added his introduction abruptly. “This is Wayne out here in Smallville. I, uh, think you might want to come and get ‘im before he, uh…”
“Slow down, Wayne, what are you talking about?” Lois interrupted, trying to follow what he was going on about.
“Well, it’s Superman. He’s here.” Wayne finally answered. “And he ain’t himself.” His tone went quiet before he added quickly. “Either of ‘em.”
A hand went to her mouth as understanding washed over her. He knew about both of Clark’s identities. Of course, he did. Why else would he have been involved in helping hide the Kents when they were on the run. She quickly gathered her thoughts, unsure what to make of Wayne’s plea for help.
“Wayne, where exactly is …Superman?”
“Well, he ain’t exactly in one place or another. He keeps uh sprintin’ overhead like he’s playin’ chickin’ wit’ ‘dem planes and then a couple of booms later he’s gone. I ain’t figured out how to get ‘im down here long enough to talk to ‘im.” Wayne let out a chuckle. “I’m guessing you don’t want the Smallville Press printin’ a story on Superman flying around the cornfields doin’ air donuts?”
Lois clamped her eyes closed, trying to comprehend what Clark was doing in Smallville of all places and why he continued to behave so out of character. “I’ll um…I’m going to call the Kents and we’ll figure something out.”
Lois replaced the handset, trying to calm the panic that was slowly building up within her. “What the ever-loving…?”
“Hey, Lois,” Jimmy walked up to her with a seemingly thick file in his hands. “Have you seen CK?”
“He, um, had to run out earlier to, um, check on his, um…source.” Lois finally landed on a word that didn’t sound completely insane. “Chasing down a lot of leads with the Intergang angle.” She flashed a smile in Jimmy’s direction. “You know how it is.”
“Uh-huh,” Jimmy stared at her for a long moment before finally patting his hand on the file in his hand. “Well, while CK is checking on his, uh, source, would you mind holding onto this for him?” He handed the file to her.
“What is it?” Lois asked, taking the heavy file from her.
“Every case filed by Bill Church Sr. in the last twenty years,” Jimmy said with a defeated sigh. “
Every case.” He emphasized for her.
“Thanks, Jimmy,” Lois watched her friend retreat and shook her head. She still needed to call Wayne Irig back. She sighed, shaking her head as she reached over to dial his number. It looked like she was making a trip to Smallville.
________________________________________
Wayne Irig made his way down to where the old Kent farmhouse was, looking up into the sky to where Superman was continuing to soar through the open air. He looked over his shoulder, careful that they were indeed alone before he called out to him, “Clark, you need to come on down here. We need to talk.”
The red and blue blur soared through the sky, ignoring his pleas, and Wayne shook his head, fishing out the small metal box he’d kept hidden for so many years. After Bureau 39 and even Luthor traipsing through Smallville in search of what had been dubbed Kryptonite, he had dug up every last speck he could find, intent on never letting it surface again. This, however, seemed to be a situation that called for it.
He looked over his shoulder again, careful that he wasn’t being watched and called out to him, “Clark, come on, son, we need to talk.”
Nothing.
He let out a heavy breath, counting silently as the red and blue blur came up above him and flipped the lid, revealing the collection of glowing green stones he had dug up and picked up the small packet that was tucked into the side of the box. Bullets and shells they had retrieved from Bureau 39’s safehouse that had been molded from the poisonous rock. He held the shotgun out, examining it carefully as he dropped one of the glowing green shells into the chamber.
Wayne called out one last time, “Clark, we can either do this the easy way or the hard way…”
The shot fired just as Clark was soaring up above him. A loud crash echoed around him as the blur of red and blue disappeared from the sky, and Irig muttered under his breath, “Always got to do things the hard way.”
He glanced over to the pond where the bridge had been cracked in two with a gaping hole in the middle where Clark had crashed.
Wayne let out a heavy sigh, “You gonna talk, son, or are we gonna keep doing this?” He peered into the hole where Clark was now covered in shards of wood and the murky pond water.
Clark shook his head, reaching his hand up as he looked around uneasily. “Wayne?”
“He speaks.” Wayne tapped his head. “Well, at least we know that thick noggin there is still invulnerable.”
Clark fumbled with his words, reaching down to touch the shoulder which was bleeding from where Wayne had struck him, and then looked back at Wayne in surprise. “Did you just shoot me with Kryptonite?”
“Yes, sir,” Wayne replied matter of factly with a stern gaze. “Aren’t you supposed to be stompin’ around Metropolis?”
“How did I get here?” Clark asked, staggering to his feet as Wayne leaned over to examine the hole that had been left in his Superman suit.
“I’m guessin’ the same way you always get here,” Wayne replied, tugging at the glowing green bullet that had been lodged into Clark’s shoulder with his switch blade. A load groan escaped the superhero’s throat as Wayne finally extracted a long glowing shard from Clark’s shoulder with. He turned to tuck it back into its secure lead-lined box as he apologized, “Sorry about that. I did try to ask nicely.”
Clark groaned, running his hand against the newly healed skin. “I think I probably deserved it.” He shook his head, aiming a beam of heat vision at his now soaked cape, and steam rose up from it as it dried.
“Hmm,” Wayne snorted, “I suppose I better go call everyone back before they end up on a flight they don’t need to take.”
Clark placed a hand on his forehead, hanging his head as he looked around. “I’ll…clean this up and get out of your hair.” He looked toward the box in Wayne’s hand with a frown.
Wayne followed his gaze. “Tooke me awhile to dig it up. I fished out every last piece I could after Luthor stormed through here a few years back. Wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything for them to get their grubby hands on again.”
Clark’s face relaxed, “I …appreciate that Wayne.”
________________________________________
Perry looked across the newsroom, noting the empty desks in the corner with a worrisome frown. Both Lois and Clark had disappeared after the fiasco in the lobby. Lois had eventually returned to the newsroom, but he hadn’t seen Clark since the incident with the gunmen. Lois claimed he was out looking for Superman. He let out a heavy sigh, not wanting to dwell too long on where the other half to his reporting duo had disappeared to. He had bigger fish to fry.
He turned the corner to re-enter his office and was greeted by the smell of heavy cigar smoke and the sight of Bill Church Jr. seated comfortably on the couch across from his desk. “Perry,” Church nodded in his direction as if it were his own office Perry had barged into. “Well, it took you long enough.”
Perry frowned, looking down at the proofs in his hand as he crossed the distance to where his desk was, recalling Lois and Clark’s suspicions surrounding Billy’s involvement with Intergang. “Billy, what are you doing here?”
“Oh, just checking the place out.” Bill Church Jr. commented as he looked around. “This place really could use some sprucing up. When Stern is forced to sell the place after I win my lawsuit I think I’ll get a fresh coat of paint up in here.”
“Mr. Stern is not selling the Planet,” Perry barked irritably.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk....Really, Perry, I’m disappointed in you. You should know better by now not to print stories that aren’t true.”
“We printed the facts,” Perry crossed his arms over his shoulder. “I’m sorry you can’t accept the truth, but Billy, your dad, got himself mixed up in some dangerous business.”
Something flickered across Bill Church Jr.’s face, and he sauntered toward him, “Is that so?” Church’s face tensed as he slammed his hands down on the desk, knocking the cup of pens down on the floor. “Your friend Superman isn’t here to save you anymore, Perry. How lucky do you think you’ll be coming up against me without little boy blue there to save the day?”
“Are you threatening me, son?” Perry narrowed his gaze at the young man.
“Call it what you will. A friendly suggestion.” Church snorted as his gaze grew dark, “You have no idea who you’re dealing with Perry.”
“I’ve known you since you were old enough to spit up on me, son.” Perry flashed a disappointed gaze in the young man’s direction. “You cannot threaten me into compliance.”
“Well, then I suppose trying to extract exactly what hold it is you seem to have on the pesky caped thorn in my side wouldn’t be met very well then.”
“Superman is not your enemy.”
“Well, not that he knows I suppose.” Church commented with a snort. He straightened up, smoothing the wrinkles on his jacket out. “I don’t take too kindly to those trying to shut my business down. You understand, right?”
“Your…” Perry stopped mid-sentence, putting the pieces together from the silent message. Church was hinting at. “Of course,” Perry hung his head, “That’s why you’re here.”
“I’m just a businessman having a conversation with an old friend, right Perry?” Church shrugged his shoulders.
“Get out of my office,” Perry ordered in a hoarse whisper.
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The slamming of Perry’s office door followed by the muffled shouts coming from within grabbed Lois’ attention as she set her coffee mug down on the counter, watching as Bill Church Jr stormed out of Perry's office. Lois shook her head, feeling her jaw tighten as she saw the philanthropist and possible criminal mastermind ascend the staircase leading to the elevator doors.
“Olsen!” Perry hollered across the newsroom as Lois reached over to pick up her mug of coffee and made her way back to her desk. She stole a quick glance toward the elevator and caught sight of a very irritable Bill Church Jr. who was intent on leaving the newsroom as quickly as possible force his way onto the crowded elevator car.
'Good riddance,' she thought to herself.
She had spent the better half of the morning fending off Perry’s questions and requests to meet up with the Planet’s attorney in hopes that Clark would make his way back through the Daily Planet’s doors before anyone became any wiser on his noticeable absence. Unfortunately, the morning had quickly melted into the afternoon with her no closer to tracking down her husband or hearing anything more from Wayne Irig. If her mind wasn't filled so much anguish, she might even have time to find humor in the situation. Wayne Irig certainly didn't seem to be amused about Clark's impromptu visit to Smallville. She still couldn't understand how or why he had made his way out there of all places.
She leaned down, taking a sip from her mug as she reclaimed her seat at her desk, wondering if she should try to call Wayne Irig once more. He had said Clark was nursing a wound from Kryptonite exposure earlier. She’d barely gotten a chance to ask how he’d been exposed to Kryptonite when Irig had abruptly ended the call. The questions continued to push their way through the forefront of her mind again and again, but she had yet to find any answers. It wasn’t’ like she could just pack up Jon and fly out to Kansas on a whim.
She stared at the phone on her desk, pondering if she should dare try Irig again or just bide her time a little while longer. She had called Martha and Jonathan and tried everyone she knew in Smallville but still nothing.
Jimmy skirted by her desk and placed a yellow manilla envelope on her desk and patted it before backing away, “The, uh, surveillance tape you asked for.”
Before Lois could gather anything else from him, Jimmy disappeared in the direction of Perry’s office. Lois glanced toward her editor’s office, wondering what had happened between him and Bill Church Jr. She could satisfy her curiosity, but given her husband and partner was still missing and Wayne Irig had yet to return her calls she thought better of it. She grabbed the envelope, tucking it in her bag as she prepared to head out. The longer she stayed here, the more frustrated she found herself. She hooked her hand inside the latch of her bag, tightening the clip and giving the leather a hard tug.
The sound of Perry’s bellow across the newsroom reached her ears and she looked up, noting the furious expression on her editor’s face as he charged toward the center of the bullpen. “All right, everyone! Whatever you’re working on consider it reassigned. I want everyone, and I mean everyone pulling every last piece of dirt you can find on Bill Church and everyone he is connected to. I don’t care how sleazy or mundane you find the information. You have until this afternoon to get me everything you can find!”
A low murmur filled the newsroom, and Lois turned to follow Perry into his office, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned against the door frame to his office. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say your meeting with Bill Church Jr. didn’t go as planned.”
“Aw, hell, he might as well have come out and said it himself,” Perry said, running a hand across his face as he sunk into his chair. His eyebrows lifted up his forehead, and he planted his hands across his desk. “I’m ashamed I ever let him spit up on me.”
Lois nodded, tightening her jaw as she jutted her chin out and asked, “What do you need us to do?”
“Get everything you can on Church and Intergang. Let’s bolt them to the floor and start firing every shot we’ve got.” Perry let out a heavy sigh. “And be careful. Apparently, we can’t rely on Superman right now either.”
“Chief,” Lois opened her mouth to argue, and he waved her off.
“No, I’m not saying it’s intentional, Lois, but you saw what happened.” Perry wagged a finger in her direction. “He’s not himself. You need to be
careful.”
She wanted to argue further but thought better of it when she saw the concerned expression on Perry’s face. She nodded, “I’m going to see what I can find out and take Jon home early.”
Perry nodded, reaching over to pick up a pen from his desk. “Is Clark still trying to find Superman?”
Lois felt a lump in her throat and swallowed it down as she responded, “Still no sign of him.”
Perry stared at the pen in his hand, swaying it back and forth. He cleared his throat, “Just…let me know what you find out.”
“Will do, Chief,” Lois called out before turning to leave.
________________________________________
Present Day…Clark was jerked awake by the sudden movement from Lois, bolting out of bed and sprinting to the bathroom. His super-hearing picked up on the distinct sounds of her emptying her stomach into the toilet bowl, followed by the flushing sound. He made his way to the bathroom after the second flush, bringing a damp cloth to place on the back of her neck with him.
“Honey,” he placed his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it against the back of her shoulder.
“I don’t have time to be sick,” Lois muttered in an almost whine, leaning her head back against him. “It’s so not fair. I always get the crud he brings home.”
“I’m sure if I wasn’t invulnerable, I’d be catching it too,” Clark whispered, leaning in to press his lips against her forehead. “But you need to get yourself into the doctor, so you and Jon aren’t passing this back and forth any more than necessary.”
“That would require getting up,” Lois argued half-heartedly.
“If I call and make the appointment will you go?” Clark asked, chuckling against the damp locks of her hair from where the washcloth had fallen.
“I guess I don’t have any more excuses, do I?” Lois sighed, turning to rest her head against his knee. “This is not fair.”
“Come on, why don’t you try and go back to sleep, and I’ll get Jon settled this morning.” Clark urged, placing a hand on her shoulder and reaching his other hand out to help her up. Her footing was still a little uneasy, but she gripped his arm for balance. “Here,” Clark leaned over to scoop her in his arms and carried her to the bed, setting her down on her side and handing her the washcloth. “Try and get some rest,” he instructed, leaning in to give her a peck on the cheek.
Thankfully she didn’t try to argue, instead opting to roll over on her side and press the damp cloth across her forehead. Clark placed a protective arm around her, cradling her in his arms for a brief moment before leaving her be to get Jon ready for the day.
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The voices around her echoed from down the hall. She bit down on her lower lip, feeling the dry, chapped texture of her lips. She dipped her tongue down to apply some moisture in hopes it would relieve the pain She shifted her weight from side to side, feeling the plastic binds press against her skin and let out a hiss when the plastic brushed against her open wounds.
“Watch it! You don’t want them coming back in here, do you?”
She turned her head around, blindly seeking the voice as she whispered back, “I’m sorry. Reflex.”
“You have to control those if you want to survive here.”
She could feel the heavy weight behind her eyes as a lump filled her throat. She let out a whimper and clamped her eyes closed when she felt a sharp jab in her side. “Sorry…”
“You can’t let them see you broken. They see it, and they win.”
“I just want to go home.”
There was a pause from the voice beside her, and for a moment she thought she had said something wrong. The movements and voices around her had become a blur. She couldn’t place time or location. All she knew was the darkness she was forced to endure…and pain.
So much pain.
“I…I have a little sister.” The voice wavered slightly. “I was on my way to pick her up…and I have no idea if I’ll ever see her again.” There was then a harsh whisper as she added, “Everyone here wants to go home. Everyone here wants to escape. The only way to do that is to survive.”
“I don’t understand any of this…What do they want?”
Another voice cut through from the other side of her, “They want to break you. Breaking you is how they…”
“You don’t know what they’re doing.” The voice from before cut in.
“You and I both know exactly what those men are in their negotiating. We’re a means to an end. That is all. You miss your family? Your home? Everyone here does. But when you get out of here you won’t ever be the same. They will break you. Just like they broke everyone before you.”
A hard sob escaped her throat.
“My name is Isabel.” The first voice said softly.
“Esma.”
________________________________________
Lois glanced in Clark’s direction as he drove through the parking garage. Her stomach had been in turmoil for the better part of the morning, and she’d made more than her fair share of sprints to the bathroom to empty her stomach, but the fever she had felt earlier seemed to have subsided. Clark had left Jon with Martha and Jonathan this morning while Clark took her to her appointment. He had insisted on driving her to ensure she made it to the doctor in one piece, and she suspected his motives were more in making sure she actually made it to her appointment. His super-immunity came in handy at times like this. She didn’t have to worry about getting him sick when she desperately needed the help.
“I don’t recall there being quite so many turns to get here,” Lois miserably complained, leaning her head back against the headrest.
“We’re just about there,” Clark said, pulling into a parking space a few feet away from the elevator that led up to the office. He put the car in park and turned to her. The worry lines and concern on his face were evident as he reached a hand over to brush it against her forehead. “Are you going to be okay to walk, or I can fly us in through the stairwell…” He pointed to the staircase on the other side of the parking lot.
Lois followed his gaze to the bright yellow painted arrow pointing to where the staircase entry was and shook her head, “No, I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute,” She closed her eyes, hanging her head as she ran a hand across her face.
________________________________________
Ingrid took a sip from the mug of coffee, tapping her other hand against the table as she read through the headlines in the newsstand behind the barista. She blanched at the flashy headlines and photos plastered all over the colorful pages, grabbing attention from potential readers.
Her gaze shifted to the Daily Planet’s cover story where the plea for help on a girl named Esma took up the entire real estate of the paper. She pondered if the two were connected as she gathered her things, preparing to leave.
________________________________________
Lois peeked across the waiting room, noting the collective stares that appeared to be directed in her and Clark’s direction. She shifted her elbow out from her side and tapped it against Clark’s side, “Hey, is it just me, or is there something going on with all these stares?”
“Maybe they recognized your picture?” Clark commented, unfazed by the attention as he skimmed through the copy of the Daily Planet’s morning edition.
“Huh,” Lois shrugged her shoulders, unsure if she completely bought Clark’s explanation. She leaned over and whispered, “So, there’s nothing those super ears are picking up?”
Clark chuckled, leaning toward her, “I do not make a habit of tuning into other people’s private conversations.”
“Sure, but sometimes you can’t help it. Sometimes it just happens, right?”
Clark threw her an admonished look, “When someone is in trouble, yes.”
“You see those two over there?” Lois gestured to the middle-aged woman in the corner with her teenage daughter. “What are they whispering about?”
“Mother’s telling her daughter this is what happens when she doesn’t take her vitamins.” Clark raised an eyebrow as he glanced back at Lois. “You think maybe you’re being just a little paranoid?”
“It’s weird.” Lois harrumphed, leaning back against the waiting room’s padded chair. “They’re staring and …”
“Lois Kent,” the nurse called from the doorway.
Lois let out a sigh, reaching down for her purse. “I’ll be back.”
________________________________________
Clark let out a heavy sigh, watching Lois disappear behind the windowless door and turned his attention back to the waiting room. A grimace crossed his face when he shifted his gaze to the middle-aged woman Lois had been gesturing to earlier, hearing the conversation the woman continued to have with her daughter.
“I just don’t see how she can even bring herself to show her face out in public. She has no shame…”Clark pinched the bridge of his nose, quelling the guilt rising up within him. He had lied through his teeth to Lois just now. It was a necessary blatant lie, but he still couldn't seem to squash the guilt stirring within him.
He knew her too well.
If she had heard even one of the whispered conversations he was picking up she would have begun to obsess over it and tried to throw herself into every effort to set the record straight. Then knowing her luck she'd end up making herself even sicker than she already was. She was already struggling to fight off what he suspected was the flu.
"Think he knows?"
"No way..."Clark sighed, running a weary hand across his face, wondering if he would have been better off waiting with Lois than out here. From what he could pick up from the whispers there appeared to be some kind of story printed about Lois. What the contents of that story were seemed to not come up as much as everyone's surprise that Lois would dare show her face in public.
'I'll figure it out and put a stop to whatever it is later,' he told himself, trying to qualm the guilt that continued to gnaw at him.
'She's too sick to deal with whatever it is anyway.'"Did you read that article in Tattletale Weekly?"
"No, but I did catch Top Copy last night..."________________________________________
Lois grimaced as she rubbed her forearm where the gauze and tape had just been applied by the nurse. She caught another less than friendly expression from the woman as she went to leave the room. The door slammed behind her, and Lois shook her head. Something was definitely off about everyone’s behavior. It was weird.
Before she could ponder on it too much longer, the door opened, and her doctor re-entered with a clipboard, “Well, it’s definitely the flu.”
Lois groaned, leaning her head back. “Great.”
“We’ll let you know if anything comes back on the blood tests.” A disapproving look crossed her doctor’s face as she raised an eyebrow at her. “Next time, let’s try to
keep the appointments for the physical. You skipped your flu shot this year.”
“I…got busy.” Lois replied weakly.
“And now you have some time to rest.” Her doctor retorted with a smirk, “Water and rest…If you can’t keep water down let me know, and we’ll get you in to make sure you’re staying hydrated.”
Lois nodded, taking the papers the doctor handed her. “Thanks.”
________________________________________
Jimmy stood by the elevator doors, pacing in front of them as he waited for Clark’s arrival. Perry said Lois wouldn’t be in today. Given what the talk of the newsroom was, it was probably for the best. Still, he needed to prepare his friend and hopefully curb any potential blows between Clark and the less than subtle staffers. He tightened his grasp on the rolled-up copy of the National Whisper, pondering how to start this conversation.
The doors opened, and he was confronted with an agitated Clark Kent as he stepped into the newsroom. “You better be standing there because you found something on these missing girls,” Clark remarked uncharacteristically abrupt as he motioned for Jimmy to follow him.
“Uh, Lois, not in today?” Jimmy asked, feigning ignorance as he tried to gather his thoughts.
“She’s not feeling well,” Clark said, glancing around the newsroom that had just grown completely silent upon his arrival. “What is going on here? Did I grow a second head or something?”
“Yeah, about that,” Jimmy stammered, loosening his grip on the tabloid in his hand. “So, uh, Lois isn’t feeling well?” He asked the question louder than he should have earning a look of annoyance from Clark.
“No,” Clark replied evenly as he added sharply. “She’s got the flu.” He gestured to the newsroom. “Mind telling me what’s going on here, or should I go press Ralph for whatever scuttlebutt is going around that has everyone staring at me like I kicked a puppy?”
“It’s not you, CK.” Jimmy unfolded the tabloid in his hand. “There were a few unsavory articles printed this morning and over the weekend that have picked up circulation.”
“Articles?”
Clark’s eyebrows rose, and Jimmy finally unfolded the cover of the National Whisper.
‘Daily Planet’s Hottest Reporter of Shame: Exclusive Scoop With Claude Moreau!’ Before Jimmy could argue, Clark grabbed the tabloid from him, flipping through it and scanning it for what felt like a few seconds before handing it back to him.
“That is nothing but sour grapes from a washed-up, talentless weasel and isn’t worth the paper its printed on.” Clark fumed angrily, clenching his fists as he pointed to the paper. “You don’t actually believe this nonsense!”
“Hey, hey, I know Claude’s a slimy worm. Unfortunately, it’s been picked up by a few networks….” Jimmy let out a heavy sigh. “And your uh more liberal news stations are calling for investigations into some of the awards Lois was awarded.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” Clark raged in a harsh whisper.
“Clark?”
Perry motioned for Clark to come to his office and his friend quickly disappeared behind the glass door that was hidden behind the blinds that had been closed on all of the windows of Perry’s office, keeping ally prying eyes away.
“Man, I ain’t seen Clark that burned up since Luthor took over.” Ralph took a big bite from an apple as he walked up to Jimmy with a smile. He nudged him in the side and asked, “So, what’d you find out?”
“Beat it, Ralph…”
TBC...
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