TP&S II - The Return of a Superman
by Tank
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Emil Hamilton found himself sweating despite the controlled temperature of the lab. He leaned against his bench as he stared into the face of the most powerful being on the planet - and for the first time in his life, he was frightened. Superman's tone was pleasant and almost friendly, but he never got the feeling that the emotions were real.
"So you can see, Emil, why we need to keep your research all hush hush. It's for your own safety as well as mine." The large super hero clapped the small scientist on the shoulder.
Hamilton shook his head and stared at the floor. "I understand the need for security, but I don't see why I can't call my boss and tell him why I'm not there. He'd understand if I told him I was doing something for you. I wouldn't have to elaborate as to what, or even tell him where I was."
He brought his eyes up to stare into the frowning face of Metropolis' hero. "We've been all through this, Hamilton." Superman's voice took on an edge. "I was hoping that you'd understand, and do this voluntarily. But make no mistake, you will do this. This is too important to me, and the world, to let your petty doubts interfere."
The brightly clad figure turned and walked toward the laboratory door. As he grabbed the knob, he turned and looked back at the intimidated professor. "The sooner you accomplish what you told me you can do, the sooner you'll be free to go. Think about that, Professor." The door closed with a resounding finality that unnerved the small man.
Hamilton turned back to his flasks, and computer screens. When Mamba had come by earlier to tell him that Superman would be by to see him later, Emil had felt a certain sense of relief. He was sure that the Man of Steel would be able to allay all his doubts and confusion. Instead he was now more confused than ever, and his doubts now bordered on fear.
How could Superman have changed so much in the time he was away? Granted, Hamilton hadn't spent an inordinate amount of time with the super hero, but the man who had entrusted him with his space capsule seemed nothing like the man who'd just left this room.
The Superman he'd met all those months ago had been very grateful for Emil's help, and never put any pressure on him to make any significant discoveries. He just seemed relieved to have the capsule in the hands of someone he claimed to trust. This Superman seemed all about pressure and threats. Veiled though they may have been, there was no doubt as to their meaning.
So that brought up the question of what he was going to do? Did he do as he was told, and create the antidote he was sure he could produce, or did he withhold this possible life-saving boon because he didn't like the way Superman was treating him? Did he have the right? Superman routinely saved dozens, even hundreds, of people every week. How could he not want to give that man every advantage he could against those who would want to bring him down?
Yet something held him back. The fact that he was being watched. The fact that he was a virtual prisoner. The fact that no one seemed to be able to give him a straight answer to his questions. The fact that, deep down, he no longer trusted Superman. All those things were cause for doubt and fear.
He ran a trembling hand through his graying hair. What should he do?
********************
Lois pulled back from their kiss, but she couldn't take her eyes off Clark's face. She reached up and stroked his cheek with her hand, still not quite daring to believe that he was alive.
She felt the tender touch of his fingers as they reached out to brush away the tears of joy she'd shed upon seeing him again. She let her hand slide down to his chest and picked at his blood-stained shirt.
"I saw you bleed." Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Oh, I bled all right." He gave her a smile of reassurance. "But I wasn't hurt badly."
She pushed his shirt open and gasped at what she saw. His chest was a riot of color as she gazed at the large bruises that emanated out from the two small wounds there. The wounds still showed signs of the ragged tearing of the skin and raw redness at the edges of the not yet healed punctures, but even she could see that the injuries didn't seem to have penetrated very deeply.
"How could this happen? It looks like the bullets only went in a little way."
Clark nodded. "That's what I think happened. I think my aura of invulnerability is coming back, but just hasn't made it all the way yet."
Lois was sure the look on her face conveyed the confusion she felt. "Aura of invulnerability?"
Clark's laughter cut through the stillness of the morning and she felt her spirits soar. Just maybe things weren't so hopeless after all. "I'll explain on the way back." She gave him another confused look. He put his arm around her and guided her back toward her car. "I wasn't killed, but I'm still pretty banged-up ."
"Oh god, Clark, I'm sorry." Lois touched his chest tenderly. "Now I'm afraid to touch you. Are you in much pain?"
Clark pointed to his lips, a big smile on his face. "These are just about the only parts of my body that don't ache."
"Oh, my poor baby." She stretched up on her tip toes and gently kissed him. "Is that better?"
"A lot better." His grin was infectious. "And as much as I'd like to spend several hours under your gentle ministrations, I think we need to get back to Metropolis to figure out our next moves... don't you?"
Lois sadly nodded her head, What Clark said made sense. She too would love to spend time reveling in the fact that he was alive. Nobody had ever been able to make her feel the way Clark did with just an innocent kiss, but they did need to get back home and plan. She still had to save Bill, and take down St. John and his cronies. Having Superman back would be a great asset.
Once they were back in her car, she restarted the engine and pulled off the highway. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was resting his head back against the seat and he had his eyes closed. She could clearly see he was uncomfortable. But that would soon go away once his powers came back, wouldn't it?
His powers. Suddenly she was struck by just what that might mean. There was no doubt that having the real Superman back would go a long way toward evening up the odds in their battle against St. John and his pet super-powered creature. Still, she couldn't fight the sense of loss that was beginning to creep into her mind.
Once Clark had his powers back, where did she fit in? Would he want her around anymore? She was sure that he had deep feelings for her, but would those feelings be the same once he became the idol of millions again? He could have his pick of movie stars, supermodels, or the most impressive women in the world. All he'd have to do would be to give them a wink and a smile and any woman would be knocking down his door to be by his side. How could she compete with that?
She had to admit that the last twenty-four hours had changed her attitude drastically. She knew that her feelings for Clark had been growing over the last few months, but it took the apparent loss of him to crystallize those feelings. Suddenly, once it looked like she had lost him forever, she knew that she didn't want to be without him. She'd not only gotten used to having him around, but she was able to finally acknowledge that she really wanted him around, perhaps even needed him.
It was a heady realization for someone like Lois to come to. She had always prided herself on her independence and self-reliance. In all her prior romantic liaisons, even Bill, she had been in control and knew exactly where she was at all times. With Clark it was different. She had to constantly fight to maintain control. It would be so easy to just give in to her more primal urges. One look from his expressive eyes, or to have that incandescently disarming smile aimed at you, made you want to surrender there and then.
But if the super hero was back, would those smiles be for her alone anymore? Even if Clark's feelings for her didn't change, even if he claimed to still love her - could he? Did Superman have time for a relationship with a mere mortal? Did she want to share him with the rest of the world? Could she?
It was something that Lois had pondered before she'd been forced to face her true feelings for Clark. She had wondered, if she did fall in love with Clark, could she love the hero also? Or would she come to resent the fact that his 'other job' would constantly be pulling him away from her?
Now it looked like it was something that she would have to consider very seriously. There's was no doubt any longer that she loved Clark. But the powers were coming back, and that meant the hero would come back also.
Lois had always had a story book vision of what love should be. Her perfect man would sweep her off her feet and worship her, as she would him. They'd spend their evenings making blissful love and wake up every morning in each other's arms. The most important thing in the whole world to each of them would be the other.
The rational side of Lois knew that such pure love didn't really exist. Any relationship had to be worked at. And that was okay too, but she wasn't sure she could live in one where she wasn't first in his list of priorities. It may be selfish of her to think that way but she knew that, for Superman, helping people would always come first and the most she could hope for was second best.
She bit on her lip and quickly reached up and wiped at the tear that threatened before it could fall.
***********************
Henderson was in a foul mood. He hated wallowing in self-pity and so instead he channeled his feelings into anger and disgust. Unfortunately, most of the anger and disgust was directed at himself. How could he have let the situation get so far out of control? If he'd just been able to see past his own petty obsession with Luthor, and had done things the right way, all this could have been avoided.
Undoubtedly, Luthor would still be in control of Metropolis, but Clark Kent would still be alive and Lois' life wouldn't be in ruins. Kent would've probably come around sooner or later and have been able to take Lois away from Luthor. Bill cursed himself for not giving Lois more credit. She would have seen through Luthor eventually. She hadn't need his protection.
Instead he'd gone all 'big brother' on her and, instead of saving her from what he thought was a potential disaster, he'd gone ahead and ruined her life instead. What a great friend he turned out to be.
The simplest solution to the problem would be for him to take away Nigel's leverage. If he were dead, St. John wouldn't be able to use his continued well-being to force Lois to do his bidding. but he quickly dismissed the thought as cowardly.
He wasn't the kind to commit suicide. He might put himself into an untenable situation; one with little or no hope, but he'd go down fighting. Ending it with a whimper just wasn't his style. Besides, it was too late for such thoughts. Lois had gone through too much already on his behalf. To give up now would not only be unfair to her, but it would make all the sacrifices she had endured pointless. He couldn't do that to her.
No, he wouldn't give up, nor would he give in, but he was through just sitting back and letting things happen to him. It was time he became a player again. Time to get off the bench, so to speak. He had to change his mind set. He had to be ready. If any opportunity to help himself, and thus help Lois, should present itself, he had to be ready to take advantage of it. And that would start now.
***************
Superman, because that was the only way he could think of himself, hovered high over the Boynton complex. Mamba had never bothered to give him a name, and St. John mostly addressed him with an indifferent 'my boy'. So Superman was the only name he'd had, the only one he'd known - until now.
He'd learned something interesting the other day on the mountain. Just before he'd blown that reporter Kent to the other side of nowhere, something had passed between them. Something he couldn't explain.
Their eyes had locked for only an instant but in that brief moment it was like a light had been turned on in a dark room. He knew who Clark Kent really was, or more accurately, who he'd been. And that meant who he was.
He was under no delusions as to what he was. He was well aware that he was merely a clone of the original Superman. A being grown in a lab under the care and guidance of Dr. Mamba. It never bothered him. How he came about wasn't an issue as far as he was concerned. All that mattered was who he was now, and what he could do.
He'd been told that St. John and Lex Luthor had killed the original Man of Steel, but apparently they hadn't. He didn't understand why Kent was no longer super-powered, but there was no doubt in his mind as to who the man had been. In that instant it had been like looking in a mirror. Seeing himself dressed differently, but still easily recognizing himself. No, there was no doubt in his mind that Clark Kent and Superman had been the same person, and that meant he was also Clark Kent.
The thought appealed to him. Another role he could play with, perhaps?
Now that Kent was dead, should he take his place as he had that of Superman? He should talk it over with St. John and Mamba.
Kent and Lane were supposed to be an item. Perhaps he could exploit that situation also. After all, no one besides the people here knew that Kent was dead yet. Maybe he could keep a 'closer' eye on Lane and her activities. She was a fairly attractive woman. It wouldn't be a great sacrifice to have to cozy up to that body.
He slowly descended to the hidden entrance that he used when coming and going from the complex. He had a grin on his face as he entered the facility and began to search out St. John. Much of the place was lead-lined so he couldn't use his enhanced vision to locate Nigel, or Mamba, but his hearing was as sharp as ever, and the sounds of the two men's voices allowed him to zero in on their whereabouts fairly quickly.
He stopped just outside the small room that served as an office for the doctor. Apparently St. John was visiting him. Hearing himself mentioned, he focused on their conversation, curious as to what they were talking about.
"So, " he heard Nigel say. "There is no chance that our Superman's programming will break down. That he could turn against us?"
"Nothing's certain." He recognized Mamba's voice. "But it's highly unlikely. He does pretty much have free will now, but the value system we instilled into him, and the loyalty to us we hammered home time and time again, should serve us just fine. As long as our interests dovetail like they have, we should have no problem controlling him."
Superman frowned, but didn't make any move to interrupt what he was listening to.
"I just get nervous when I think about how much power that *creature* has, and what could happen if he suddenly decided that he didn't want to follow our agenda anymore." St. John didn't sound nervous as much as he did cautionary.
Mamba chuckled. "Look, Nigel, the clone has our outlook on life, he's been programmed to be loyal to us, and let's face it, he's not exactly the brightest bulb in the lamp. We've purposely damped down his IQ, and inhibited any signs of self-reliance. He's not stupid, but he needs guidance. He has no real initiative. He needs someone to tell him what to do. He needs us."
"Maybe, but nevertheless, I feel better knowing that I have this on me at all times."
The clone could hear some rustling, like something being brought out of a pocket. That was followed by a crinkling sound, as if something were being unwrapped. Almost immediately after that he began to feel a level of discomfort he'd never known before. His head began to ache, and sweat began to bead on his forehead.
He was feeling very weak, when he heard the sounds again, and suddenly the pain went away. He took a couple of deep breaths to restore his equilibrium. What had just happened?
He listened in again, but the voices were somehow fainter.
"Ah, yes," Mamba said. "The ubiquitous crystal, kryptonite. Tell me, Nigel, do you even sleep with the stuff next to you?"
There was no answer to that question. "Just tell me that when Hamilton comes up with his antidote, you will have a way to counteract it. I don't want to lose my advantage over the creature."
Another chuckle. "Don't fret so. I told you once I have studied his procedure I'll have no trouble finding a way to negate its effects."
"Good."
He heard St. John moving, as if he were getting ready to exit the room. Not wanting to be found out, the clone quickly moved farther down the hallway and around the corner. He leaned against the wall, rubbing his temples with his fingers. His head still ached.
So that was kryptonite? He'd known about the stuff, and that it was potentially very dangerous to him, which was why he'd brought Hamilton here after being approached that day. But he'd never felt its effects before. He had no desire to repeat such an experience again.
He moved swiftly toward his own apartments. He was troubled by what he had heard. He'd always considered St. John and Mamba as mentors to him. He looked up to their cleverness, and ability to turn any situation to their advantage. But now he was seeing things slightly differently.
He'd always considered himself one of them. An equal partner, as it were. Apparently they didn't see it the same way. He'd never had any illusions about himself, but being called a 'creature' by St. John stung a little. He was merely a tool to them, a weapon to use against their enemies.
Being a weapon didn't bother him. He enjoyed using his powers to hurt people. Heck, he even enjoyed playing the hero at times. Just using his powers was a high that he doubted anyone but Kent would ever be able to understand. But he'd also used his powers to impress St. John and Mamba. He liked getting their approval for things that he did. But now he had to wonder how much of that gratitude had been real, and how much had been just an act to mollify him.
He reached his room, and let himself in. Closing the door behind him, he could see the deep frown on his face as he spied his reflection in the small mirror over the desk.
They didn't think of him as an equal partner. They feared him. Granted, he was the most powerful being on the whole planet, but he'd never entertained any thoughts of not doing as they asked. Maybe it was time to change things up some. He had the power. Shouldn't he be the one in charge?
Of course, there was that kryptonite that St. John kept on him at all times. That would be a problem. He sat down on the bed with a thump. He groaned and flopped back. He had some thinking to do, and his head still ached. What was he going to do?
*******************
Lois opened the door to her apartment and let Clark in before quickly closing it behind them. He no sooner turned around than she threw herself into his arms and was kissing him again. She couldn't help herself.
Clark had rested most of the way back to Metropolis. He'd taken the time to fill her in on what had happened to him and his suppositions as to how his powers might just be slowly coming back. She hadn't said much, but had listened intently. Her confusion over her conflicted feelings consistently vying for her attention. She knew that there was still serious work they had to take care of, but she couldn't help but wonder and worry.
"Oh, Clark, I didn't know what I was going to do if I could never see you again." She punctuated her words with another desperate kiss. "I love you so much."
He directed a warm smile at her. "I love you too, Lois." He leaned down and returned her kiss.
Clutching each other, the two of them stumbled into the living room and onto Lois' couch. In the back of her mind she knew that she was being hypocritical. But she did love him and right now she was acutely aware of her need to continually prove that he was alive and with her. Whatever might happen farther down the road, once Superman was back, she pushed out of her mind. Finally, breathless, the two of them disentangled themselves and sat up on the smallish sofa. Lois still found herself touching him.
She watched as his smile faded and he ran a hand through his hair. He turned his head and looked at her, his eyes betraying his concern. "What are we going to do now, Lois?"
She wasn't ready for such a question, so it took her by surprise. "What do you mean?"
"I mean..." He stopped and took a deep breath. "What do we do about... me? St. John and his cronies think I'm dead. Even though no one else does, if I suddenly show up at work, or am seen wandering around town, they'll know I'm alive. Is that something we want?"
Lois bit on her lip. She hadn't thought of that. She'd been more relieved that she didn't have to tell Clark's friends and family that she'd gotten him killed to worry about what might happen if Nigel and his crew found out he was alive.
"I don't know?" She stood and began to pace. She always thought better when she paced. "I'm glad I don't have to tell Perry White or your folks that you're dead, but I guess it might be better to let St. John think that he killed you."
Clark nodded. "I agree. It will give me a chance to work without anyone watching me." He reached out and took her hand and guided her back to the couch. "We can fill Perry in, and I'll call my folks to warn them not to believe anything they might hear, or see on the television or radio. I'll use the pay phone in the front foyer of the building so as not to alert St. John if he still has your phone bugged."
Lois nodded, then folded her hands in her lap and stared at the floor. "But what cover story do we use? I can't exactly tell people that you were shot dead on a mountainside outside of Boynton when we were supposed to be out in
Smallville?"
"I'm sure that we'll..." Clark suddenly stopped and she noticed a look of particular intensity on his face.
"What?"
Clark stood up from the couch and moved toward the bedroom. "Someone's coming." He left her staring, bewildered, at him as he ducked into her bedroom and quietly closed the door. Just then, there was a knock at her door.
Startled, Lois turned her attention in that direction. "Just a moment," she said as she padded silently to her front entrance and peered through the spy hole. An involuntary gasp of surprise slipped out as she took in who was standing out in hallway. "Clark?"
