Okay, here it is: the result of last week's poll. Thanks to Kaylle for BRing this for me on really short notice (and in a tiny patch of spare time, too...).
Also, I should mention that I shamelessly stole a couple names from the comics for cameos. No copyright infringement is intended. It just seemed a fun thing to do as long as I was already writing a story about Lois and Clark, and a good way to avoid having to think up names of my own.
Part 2
Lois's POV
It was all over the news. The plane had crashed, and there was still no sign of Superman. Something was definitely wrong. I had to find him. Thinking things through, it seemed like the best place to start would be to try to track his movements. I decided to look into the stories he'd been working on. Mostly, we'd been working together, but there was always a chance he'd started looking into something without mentioning it to me. Perhaps a lead he hadn't been sure would pan out, or something which had developed suddenly.
I started over to his desk, but figured that as long as I wouldn't be using mine, I could have Jimmy look into that email. It might somehow be connected to Clark's disappearance, and if I was going to follow the lead, I wanted to know as much as I could ahead of time. "Jimmy!" I shouted. He was there in a flash, ready for action. "I got this message today," I told him, pointing to the screen. "It seems suspicious. Look into it for me, will you? See what you can find out -- who sent it, where it came from, anything -- and let me know as soon as you can."
"You got it, Lois."
"Thanks, Jimmy."
"Sure thing." He sat down in front of my computer and began scrutinizing that jumbled mess of letters and numbers that comes at the top of every email. I always scrolled right past it, but apparently all that nonsense meant something to him.
I shrugged and headed to Clark's desk. Acting as if I had every right to rummage through his files (I was, after all, his partner and fiancee), I began to search for any sign that he'd been working on something I didn't know about. There didn't seem to be very much. A few human interest stories, but that wasn't surprising. Clark knew I wasn't much for puff pieces, so he tended to work on them alone. He'd usually ask me to look them over when he was done, but didn't always bother to mention them before that. Looking over them, the only ones that involved any sort of danger were the stories which had started out as rescues. He'd already come away from those intact, so it didn't seem likely that any of them were related to his disappearance.
There was one file, though, which stood out from the rest. It was about gang fights. Coded notations indicated that most of the information consisted of things which he'd noticed as Superman. Apparently, the gangs were becoming more violent, and seemed to be using more dangerous weapons. Clark hadn't started looking into anything yet, but he was worried about the trends. There was a note that he'd been planning to mention it to me this morning so that we could get started on the investigation. He hadn't done anything yet, though, other than to stop a few of the fights. Come to think, when he'd left the newsroom last night, he'd mentioned something about gunfire.
Could that have anything to do with his disappearance? Only one way to find out. I needed to look into that rescue last night and see if anyone knew what had happened. The gang fights, for the most part, had been in Suicide Slum. I remembered that Clark tended to use the 68th precinct as his drop-off point when working in the Slum; he said it was the one he knew best. I pulled out the phone book and found the number.
"MPD. Can I help you?"
"Yeah, hi. This is Lois Lane. I was wondering if you could tell me if anyone there has seen or heard from Superman recently."
The gruff voice turned instantly somber. "Oh, yeah. Hold on." There was a pause, and the next words sounded muffled, even though they were loud enough to understand. Clearly, he'd decided to put his hand over the receiver before shouting across the room. "Hey, Mags, got a sec? Lane wants to talk to you." Another pause, longer this time, and then he spoke into the phone again. "She'll be right with you. Good luck finding him."
"Thanks," I said, but there was no response. The silence told me I'd been put on hold.
A short while later, a new voice picked up. "Sawyer here."
"Hi. Lois Lane. I'm calling to find out if anyone saw Superman last night."
"Yeah, I did." She blew out a deep breath. "I've been wondering if I was the last one to see him."
"What happened?"
"He flew into the precinct last night around midnight. He had some... passengers and a bag full of guns. Told me they'd been fighting in the streets. I brought them in for booking and took his statement."
"Then what?"
"He thanked me, said goodnight, and flew away."
He'd thanked her? I smiled. Just like Clark... I brushed the thought aside. No time for that now. "Did he say where he was going?"
"No, he just left."
"Did you happen to see which way he went?"
She paused, but not for very long. "Uptown... Northwest. More north, I think."
I thought about it. There were any number of places north and west of the Slum, but one of them was Clark's apartment. It didn't sound like he'd been in a hurry when he'd left, so he probably hadn't been headed to another rescue. "Thanks."
"Sure." She sounded weary. "Look, we're trying to find him, too, but... This is off the record now, you understand?"
"Yeah, go ahead."
"We've got nothing. No leads. And just when we want to divert the manpower to help find him, we can't. Officially, we're not supposed to look for missing persons until they've been gone for at least 48 hours. None of us would bother with that, but we don't have the time to go looking anyway. We've already logged in more calls today than we usually get in a week, and things are getting worse. Every lowlife out there seems to see his absence as an opportunity. What I'm trying to say is... Good luck."
"Thanks."
"Yeah. I'm heading back out. You find anything, think of anything, need anything... let us know, okay?"
"Sure, thanks again, and good luck yourself."
"Thanks."
I hung up the phone, then glanced back at my desk. I was startled to see Jimmy using my phone. I went over to see what was happening.
"Here she is now," he said as I approached. "Good talking to you Mrs. Kent."
Clark's mother. Of course. I'd been putting off calling her, hoping to spare her some worry, but obviously she'd seen the news. Bracing myself, I took the receiver from Jimmy. "Martha?"
"Lois! Have you heard from Clark?"
"No, Martha, I haven't. I guess you haven't either, then?"
"No. I tried calling his apartment, but there was no answer. When his work number was busy, I'd hoped..."
"Oh. I was using his phone, talking to someone who saw him last night. I'm looking for him, Martha. I've got a couple of things to look into, people to check with... I'll find him."
"Jonathan and I will be on the next plane out there."
"No, Martha, stay there. What if he calls home?"
"But what about you, Honey?"
"I'll be alright. Don't worry about me. I just need to find him."
"You'll do it. If anyone can, it's you."
"Thanks, Martha. I'll call you as soon as I hear anything."
She sighed. "Thanks. Bye, Lois."
"Bye."
"Everything okay, Lois?"
Jimmy. I'd forgotten he was there. "Just worried about Superman, Jimmy."
"Oh, yeah. I wonder where he is. I tried using my watch to call him, just in case, but he didn't show."
"Good try anyway, Jimmy."
"Thanks. Hey, where's Clark?"
"I haven't seen him today, Jimmy. Maybe he got sick or something. I'm going to go check his apartment soon, see if he's okay." As I spoke, I tried to think of a way to change the subject; this was not a topic I wanted to discuss to closely with him. "Did you get anything from that email?"
"What? Oh, right. Not much. Looking at the IP addresses, I can tell you it came through a server in New Troy, probably Metropolis. But anyone with a GOAL account could have dialed into it. Could have even dialed long distance from somewhere else, if they felt like throwing you off the trail. Can't tell you anything about the account. I tried to hack into the server, but Lexcorp's security is *tight.* Sorry, Lois."
"Thanks anyway, Jimmy."
"Sure. So, you going to go?"
"Go?"
"To the pier."
"Oh, right. Yeah, I'll probably check it out."
"You sure? Looks pretty suspicious..."
"I know, Jimmy." I'd been debating with myself about that. I couldn't not go, not if there was any chance it could lead me to Clark. I'd been considering going alone, but, if it was a trap... Better to be at least a little cautious, especially with Clark missing. "Listen, do you want to come with me? As backup? Take your camera, with a nice long zoom lens and some night equipment. Maybe you'll get a few good shots of whatever's going on, and if something happens to me, you can call for help."
"Really? You'd let me come?"
"Sure, why not? You could use the experience, and I could use a photographer."
"Thanks, Lois! ... Oh, but I don't have any night equipment."
"I'll talk to Perry. Maybe he'll let you check out some of the Planet's gear."
"Oh, wow! I'd love to get my hands on some of that stuff. You know, they've got a set-up that will let you take high-contrast..." He trailed off, evidently realizing that I didn't share his enthusiasm. "Never mind. I'll let you get back to work."
I nodded to him, and he walked off. I turned back to the phone. I wanted to go to Clark's apartment, but there were a couple of calls I needed to make first. I picked up the receiver, punched the speed dial button, and then, after a moment's hesitation, hit the four. It rang a couple times and then someone picked up.
"Hello, Thai Palace."
"Hi, this is Lois Lane --"
"-- Oh, yes! What would you like?"
"Reservations, actually, this time."
There was a brief pause, as if he needed a second to absorb this information. "Yes, reservations. What time?"
"Seven, please."
"For how many?"
"Four," I lied. Knowing my intended companion, we'd need the room on the table. I knew they wouldn't mind, in the end. I was, after all, a regular customer, and I was confident that we'd be ordering enough to make up for the empty chairs. Thinking of that, though, brought up another idea. We didn't want chairs, not if we wanted privacy. "Is there any way we can get that booth in the back?"
"Booth? Yes, of course."
"Great, thanks."
"Thank you."
I hung up, but only long enough to get another dial tone. Quickly, I put in another number, one that wasn't on the speed dial, but which I knew by heart.
"Hello?"
"Bobby? It's Lois. Listen, do you have any plans for dinner tonight?"
******
Clark's POV
When I woke up again, I was confused and disoriented. Gradually, I remembered what had happened and why I couldn't move. The TV was still on; I blocked it out as best I could. I forced myself to focus on my memories, to see if I could figure anything out about my captors. There was a man, but I'd never heard his voice before, not that I could remember. No, wait... I'd heard it once before. In my apartment. I'd just flown home and was about to get ready for bed when I'd felt something... Kryptonite. There'd been a voice then, that same voice. I couldn't remember what he'd said -- I'd been too surprised by the sudden pain -- but it was the same voice. So, someone had been waiting for me in my apartment with Kryptonite. Not a good sign.
Then there was the other voice. The woman's. Something about it had seemed like it should be familiar, but I couldn't place it. It nagged at me, but I couldn't make the connection. I put the thought aside, hoping it would come to me. Instead, I tried to think of what I could do. There didn't seem to be much. I was weak, tied up, and blindfolded. Well, if I couldn't do anything with my body, maybe I could do something with my mind. I'd felt a connection with Lois before. I didn't know how strong it was or how it worked, but maybe I could somehow reach her. I concentrated on her, tried to tell her what had happened. I couldn't be sure if I was getting through, but I tried.
Suddenly, a sound interrupted my thoughts. It took me a minute to realize that I'd been the source of it, and another minute to realize that it was related to the unfamiliar sensation I was experiencing. Finally, it clicked. The sound had been my stomach rumbling; I was hungry. I hadn't eaten very much in the past few days. I didn't really need to eat, usually, and we'd been so busy that I simply hadn't bothered. Now, my body was looking for fuel to help its recovery. At first, I was sorry I hadn't been eating, but then something else occurred to me. If I had taken the time to eat, I'd have processed that food, which would have brought up another need. It didn't seem likely that my captors would be particularly willing to untie me so that I could use the restroom.
On the other hand, they'd said they didn't want to kill me just yet. That might give me some leverage. I could ask for food... but no, they probably wouldn't give me any, not yet. Sunlight, though... I could tell them that I needed sunlight. Maybe, if they thought I'd die without it, they'd be willing to bring me near a window. If there was a window around here... Nothing I'd heard or felt seemed to indicate that there was one nearby. The other thing was that not many people knew I recharged myself with sunlight. If I didn't give them any reason to think it was important, they wouldn't know to keep me away from the light, if there was any. So, I'd probably be better off not mentioning sunlight. It might give me a chance to recharge without them realizing it. If that happened, and if I didn't give them any sign that I was doing better, I could gather my strength, maybe enough to escape.
Come to that, I could play that game even if there wasn't any sunlight. If I pretended to be sicker than I was, maybe they wouldn't bring the Kryptonite as often. Without sunlight, I'd recover slowly, but it would be something. With that thought in mind, I slumped in the chair, laying back as much as I could. I breathed shallowly, weakly. I focused on being as quiet and still as I could. Soon, I drifted back to sleep.
******
Lois's POV
After making the arrangements with Bobby, I dropped by Perry's office, to let him know that Jimmy and I were going on a stakeout at the Pier. He agreed to let Jimmy take some of the Planet's surveillance equipment. Now, if anything went wrong, Perry would know where to start looking. Back in the newsroom, I found Jimmy and gave him the good news. I told him to meet me in the lobby with everything ready to go at ten o'clock.
Leaving the Planet, I drove to Clark's apartment. Maybe there'd be some clue there. I didn't have a key (I made a note to rectify that situation as soon as I'd found Clark), but I knew Clark had never bothered to get a particularly good lock. I pulled out my picks and examined the door. To anyone on the street, it would look like I was simply fumbling with a key. At least for the moment. Looking at the door, though, I noticed some tiny scratches near the lock. It might not mean anything, but it looked like someone else had tried to pick it. Someone inexperienced, or perhaps out of practice. I noted that with some trepidation, then tried the knob. It was unlocked. That definitely wasn't like Clark.
Inside, however, everything seemed to be in place. Well, almost everything. There was a window open.
Suddenly, I felt something. It felt like... Clark. It was a weak impression, though, as if he was far away or very tired. He was definitely in trouble. Then it was gone. I shook myself. Obviously, I'd been imagining things. This was Clark's apartment, of course I felt his presence! Of course I'd sensed he was in trouble! He was missing, and now it looked like someone had broken into his apartment. I got back to the problem at hand.
The open window was telling. Whoever it was who had broken in had come in through the door. Since the door wasn't locked, that person had probably left through the door, too. Clark, flying back from a late-night rescue, would most likely have entered through the window. Now he was missing. There could only be one conclusion: someone had broken into his apartment and waited for him, armed with Kryptonite.
Disturbed, I looked around for any other clues. There was nothing. I tried playing the messages on his machine, just in case, but the only new message was from Martha. She'd mentioned that she'd tried his apartment first. Nothing new there.
I left Clark's place and tried talking to his neighbors. I'd met some of them in passing, so I wasn't entirely unfamiliar to them. Trying not to show too much concern, I asked them if they'd seen Clark lately, or if they'd heard anything unusual last night. A few of them said they'd heard some noises, but it had been late at night. Only one of them had gotten out of bed to check, and all he'd seen was a car driving away. He couldn't even give me a good description; it just hadn't been important enough to note, especially at that hour.
I left Clark's neighborhood in low spirits. The only new information I had only served to make things worse. Someone had definitely taken him, and if that person had known to wait in his apartment with Kryptonite... Well, maybe someone had just noticed that Superman tended to go there. Everyone knew that Clark and Superman were good friends. Superman had even announced, during that whole mess with Diana Stride, that Clark kept his extra suits and did his laundry. There was a chance that Clark's captors had come for Clark, not Superman, and had only had Kryptonite in case their quarry's famous friend happened to show up. If Clark had come in as Superman, they might not even know about his secret identity. It was a possibility, at least. Whatever the case, I needed to find Clark, and to do that, I needed more information. Hopefully, Bobby Bigmouth would have it for me.
I got to the restaurant early. They'd kept the booth for me, like I'd asked. I sat down but declined to order. I told them I'd wait until everyone came. I sipped tea for the next fifteen minutes or so, and then Bobby showed up. As I'd expected, he promptly ordered enough food for three. When I'd spoken to him over the phone, I'd told him that if he could find what I needed, he could order whatever he wanted and keep the leftovers. When Bobby was done ordering, I ordered a dish for myself and informed the waiter that the "other two" wouldn't be coming, after all. He seemed a bit taken aback, but I assured him that Bobby would be taking their share home. He shrugged and left. I turned to Bobby.
"Thanks for meeting me here. I know you usually prefer something a little less public, but this is an emergency. What did you find?"
"As far as I can tell, Superman was last seen in Suicide Slum..."
"Stopping a gang fight. I know. He dropped them off at the MPD and left."
"You know that, what'd you ask me for?"
"I was hoping you'd have heard something more recent."
"Sorry, Lois. That's all I have on him right now. Heard a few rumors, but they're mostly just street talk. Nothing reliable, and they contradict each other."
"Any luck with the hospitals?"
"I looked into it, like you asked, but didn't find anything."
"What about Kryptonite?"
"There, I have a bit more for you. Not much, but something. Apparently, some sanitation worker by the name of Otis Flannegan found a piece in the sewers. He spread the word around that he was going to sell it off. Turned up dead in an alley two days later. It was the weirdest thing. Looked like he'd been shot point blank from the front. He had no business being in that alley, either. The auction wasn't until the next day, and he'd been trying to keep a low profile until then."
"Any word on who might have it?"
"No, nothing."
Dinner came. Bobby dove into his dishes, eating as if he hadn't seen food in days. He paused every once in a while to compliment or critique the dishes. I wondered how he could possibly taste it properly, eating at that speed. I ate more slowly, thinking things over. There didn't seem to be much else I could ask. Not much else I could do, really, until I looked into things at the pier. On impulse, I asked Bobby about the gang story.
"Oh, yeah. Things haven't been good. Something's got them riled up. There have been some pretty strange-looking guns turning up, too. Not many of them, but still... these aren't the kind of guns you'd expect some street kid to have."
"Where are they coming from?"
"I don't know. No one's talking."
"You seem awfully short on information, Bobby."
"Hey, I'm just a snitch. I know some guys, I keep my ear out... I don't know everything. Never claimed to."
"Sorry, I'm just tense. With Superman missing..."
"Don't worry about it, Lois. You're right; I don't have much for you this time. Listen, why don't we just say I owe you one? I'll keep looking. I find anything, I'll let you know, no charge."
"Thanks, Bobby."
He was already shoving more food into his mouth with his right hand, so he simply waved his response with his left. The rest of the meal passed in silence. I paid the bill, Bobby had the leftovers packed to go, and we went our separate ways.
I considered calling Martha, just to update her, but decided against it. The little information I'd found would only serve to cause her needless worry. Instead, I went home to get ready for the stakeout at the pier. I picked out a pair of navy sweat pants, a warm shirt, a dark sweater, and a pair of black sneakers -- quiet, hard to spot at night, and appropriate for the winter. I tossed a few flashlights, a pair of binoculars, and some tools into a bag, and packed another bag with food. I put it all in the Jeep and drove back to the Planet to pick up Jimmy.
I got there half an hour early. Jimmy wasn't there yet, so I took the opportunity to go to the bathroom (always a good idea before a stakeout). I waited around until he showed up a few minutes before ten, encouraged him to use the restroom, waited while he did so, and then took him down to the Jeep. Along the way, he started to babble about how excited he was to be going on a stakeout and how cool the camera he'd borrowed was and how how it had so many features, but I ignored him. Soon he quieted down, and we drove to the pier.
I parked across the street and looked through my binoculars. There was, indeed, a ship berthed at Pier 31. It was the "Cost Cutter," registered out of Jakarta, Indonesia. If they were smugglers, they had a bold sense of humor. The name of the ship seemed to be a deliberate pun on the Coast Guard's Cutter patrol ships. Of course, given the relatively shabby look of the freighter, the name might simply be a reference to the captain's financial strategy.
Looking around, it was a while before I spotted any activity near the ship. The area near the gangplank had been surrounded with shipping containers in what seemed to be an almost haphazard fashion. They could have been piled that way because it was convenient for the crane operator, but it could just as easily have been a deliberate attempt to hide the entrance to the ship from view. There were gaps, however, and by watching closely, I was able to see the men who were unloading the ship. They were working silently in pairs, carrying crates and stacking them near the piles of previously offloaded cargo.
Peering at the crates through the binoculars, I could see that the captain's frugal nature extended to packing materials. They were poorly made, and some of them had been damaged. I told Jimmy to take pictures of whatever he could, then got out of the Jeep and crept to the pier. Fortunately, the stacked containers served just as well to block the men's view of the outside as they did to block an outsider's view of them. Even better, they didn't know to look for me. I hoped.
I made my way through the maze of cargo to a position near the growing stack of crates. I snuck around to the far side while they weren't looking, then knelt to examine the boxes. I found the ones which were in the worst condition, and, as quietly as I could, expanded the holes. I took out a penlight, and, shielding the tiny bulb with my hand, used it to look inside.
I was so startled by what I saw that I nearly gave myself away. I stifled the reflexive gasp, then checked a few more crates, just to be sure. They did not, as I'd been half expecting, contain guns. They were full of drugs. Prescription drugs. Some over-the-counter ones, too. All neatly sealed in tamper-proof packaging. Perfectly ordinary items that you'd find in any pharmacy. So what in the heck were they doing being offloaded in careful secrecy in the middle of the night?
