TP&S II - The Return of a Superman
by Tank

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Arianna Carlin-Luthor slammed the phone receiver savagely onto its cradle. How dare he order her! She had told him in no uncertain words that she was too busy to be running out to his playpen. She didn't have time to be traveling up to the northern part of the state just because he wanted to see her. If he wanted to meet, he could just come back to Metropolis.

She was through jumping through hoops for Nigel St. John, and she let him know that. Then, in his infuriatingly calm monotone, he 'informed' her that it wouldn't be possible for him to come to Metropolis at this time, and that it was imperative that she come out the the facility. He had something that she must see. He continued by stating that he expected to see her by tomorrow afternoon. Then he just hung up!

Who did he think he was talking to? She had half a mind to just ignore the high and mighty Mr. St. John's edict. Maybe that would teach him who was in control now. She controlled the money and that meant she called the shots.

She spun around in her chair and stared out the french doors which led to the large balcony. Her mouth firmly set in a frown which also furrowed her brow. She absently brushed a short lock of dark hair away from her face. Finally, a slow sigh escaped from her lips.

Who was she kidding? Of course she'd go up there tomorrow. If for no other reason, her curiosity would force her to go. What was so stinking important that she had to go up and see it? It wasn't like she had any real interest in Mamba's research. So they'd made themselves a Superman clone. Who cared? He was just another lackey for St. John, albeit one with some added features. Still, he was just a super-powered errand boy. He wasn't her concern.

What was her concern was Nigel's continued lack of respect for her and her station. She'd thought she'd made her position clear to him before, but apparently he needed some reinforcement.

Well, she'd give him that reinforcement all right. She would make the trip to the Boynton site tomorrow, but she would not arrive all meek and submissive. It was time she taught Nigel, and his pet mad scientist, Mamba, who really called the shots now. A slow smile spread across her face. Oh yeah, she was going to enjoy her little visit.

What it ultimately came down to was the money. St. John was the one who set her up to take charge of the vast Luthor empire. Which meant that she controlled the purse strings, and as long as she did; she, not Nigel, was going to dictate policy from now on.

She reached over and pressed the button on the omnipresent black box. It squawked to life immediately.

"Yes Mrs. Luthor?"

"Gloria, hold all my calls for the next hour. I plan to indulge myself in a nice, hot, bubble bath."

"Very good, Mrs. Luthor."

"Oh, and arrange for my car to be ready first thing in the morning. I'll be out of the office for the day."

"Will that be all?"

"Yes, that will be all. Thank you, Gloria." Arianna let go the intercom switch and stood up, beginning to unbutton her suit jacket as she did so. A devilish smile played at the ends of her mouth as she began rehearsing the little speech that she'd be giving Nigel the next day.

*************************

Lois had to take a deep breath as she leaned against the door. What should she do? She had to let him in, but what if he saw Clark? And why was he dressed like Clark? Had he found out somehow? Had he always known? Did Nigel know? She took another breath to steady her nerves. He wouldn't expect anyone else to be there, so maybe if she kept his attention on her he wouldn't know that Clark was there. But what did he want? Only one way to find out. With a final deep breath she opened the door.

She faced him for several moments. His grin was... unsettling. "What are you doing here - dressed like Clark?"

He spread his hands wide. "What, not happy to see me?" She replied to his wisecrack with a stony silence. "Aren't you going to invite me in? The neighbors might begin to wonder what's wrong if you don't let your own *fiance* in." Lois stepped aside and let him into her apartment. He gave her place only the briefest of glances. "Nice place, I guess. Kind of small though."

"What do you want? Why are you dressed like Clark? Did St. John send you?" She tried hard to keep her voice even. It wouldn't do any good to anger him too much. She had no desire to become a charred corpse.

"Mr. St. John doesn't know I'm here." He smiled at her, but the effect was hardly calming. "It was my own idea." He gave her a mock pirouette. "Do you like the outfit? I thought it only appropriate to dress like Clark Kent since I am Clark Kent."

Lois had to bite down on her lip to keep from gasping. "What do you mean? I saw you and Nigel foully murder Clark. Neither of you are fit to lick the boots of a man as wonderful as Clark." She was allowing her temper to get the better of her.

"Do you deny that Clark Kent is... er, I mean, was Superman?"

Lois turned her back to the clone and walked into her living room. "Would you believe me if I did?" she asked as she turned back to face him.

"No." He shook his head. "I recognized it the minute I looked into his eyes up there on the mountain. Despite the glasses, it was like looking into a mirror." He leaned against her couch. "Clark Kent was the Superman before me. Now I'm Superman. I guess that means I'm also now Clark Kent."

"Clark Kent is dead," she said through gritted teeth.

His smile took on a more sinister aspect. "He doesn't have to be."

She was appalled by what he was suggesting. She couldn't keep the contempt out of her voice. "On your best day you could never pretend to be like Clark. Clark was kind, gentle, and compassionate. He cared about other people." She glared at the smirking clone. "He had a soul."

The bogus Clark put his hands up and a gesture of fake surrender. "Oooh, I guess I've been put in my place."

Her tone became icy. "You never answered my first question. What are you doing here?"

He reached out and grabbed her by the arm. Lois had to swallow her instinct to scream. "Listen, Lane, I'm not sure yet what I want to do with this knowledge of Superman having played at being the geek reporter Kent." He released her with a casual shove that nearly pushed her off her feet. "I just came by to let you know that Clark Kent just might be making a miraculous recovery from his unfortunate accident on the mountainside."

He walked over to the door and opened it. He turned back and smiled that cold smile once again. "You know - it might be fun having a fiancee."
He gave her a wink, then stepped into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him.

Lois could only stare, dumbly, at the closed door. Clark came quickly into the room and took her in his arms. She was shaking.

"Are you all right?" Clark's voice communicated his concern for her.

She nodded. "What do you make of that?"

Clark's expression was grim. "I'm not sure, but I know I didn't like the sound of it. But I do know what he meant when he mentioned 'it was like looking in a mirror'. I felt the same way."

Lois felt her stomach knot up. The way he had looked at her. It was as if he was looking at some prize hanging on the back wall of a carny booth. All he had to do was knock over the milk bottles and he could claim his prize. She endured another involuntary shudder.

"Lois?"

She placed her hand on his arm. "I'll be all right. I'm just confused as to what we do now. Is Clark Kent supposed to be dead, or not?"

Clark, still holding onto her, gave her a squeeze of reassurance. "I guess that's up to the clone now."

She leaned back against his broad, comforting chest. It was amazing how safe and protected he made her feel when he enveloped her in his arms and she could feel his body against hers. She allowed a small sigh to escape from her.

"So what do we do now?"

Clark began to rub her arms. "When I was hiking out to the highway this morning, I remembered something which had been nagging at me since I'd originally seen it on the Daily Planet monitor. Other things came up so I pushed it to the back of my mind, but now I..."

"Clark, just spit it out!"

He gave her an embarrassed smile. "I just wonder what Professor Hamilton felt was so important that he had to try and contact Superman right away at the press conference?"

Lois cocked her head to one side. "I take it that's not common for him?"

Clark shook his head. "No. The Professor is somewhat of a hermit. Doesn't like crowds, or the big city. He's perfectly content to putter around in his laboratory at Star Lab's most remote facility and bury himself in his work."

Lois turned and placed her hand on Clark's chest. "So, I take it we're going to go pay a visit to this mad Professor of your's?"

Clark grinned. "Oh I wouldn't call him mad. Eccentric, definitely, but not mad."

Lois laughed. "Okay, I take it we're going to go pay a visit to this eccentric Professor of yours."

"I think that might be a good idea." Clark cupped Lois cheek with his right hand. "But that can wait until tomorrow."

Lois' grin was coy. "Definitely."

***************************

Lois carefully pulled into the parking lot of the smallish Star Labs facility in Green Haven. She and Clark had been on the road for a couple of hours getting to the small community that housed the remote Star Labs complex that was where Prof. Emil Hamilton did his research. Now that they were there, Lois was a bit apprehensive. What was she going to say? Clark had decided that it might be best if he stayed in the car, out of sight, just in case. They still weren't sure what the status of Clark Kent was going to be. Was he dead, or was the clone going to make some public appearances? It was all very confusing. She just hoped that this Hamilton character could give her some insight that she could use to help her take down the clone, and with him, Nigel and his cronies.

Lois had been fearful when she'd gotten up that morning that the clone might be waiting for her. She hadn't called the precinct since she was still supposed to be in Smallville on her vacation. She wasn't due back for another two days. If Nigel was put off by her not going immediately back to work, then that was too bad for him. Actually, he'd probably just think that she needed a little more time to deal with the death of Clark. Which was also probably why they didn't spot anyone keeping a surveillance on her.

Clark's hearing had been getting better, as was his vision. He'd been able to scan, both visually and aurally, the area around her apartment for several blocks and he'd spotted no one. The same went for her apartment itself. She assumed the phone was still tapped, but she had stayed away from that.

She strode up to the front entrance with a confident step that she didn't necessarily feel. Opening the glass door, she stepped into a well-lit, inviting reception area. A uniformed guard sat behind a small metal desk. She could see the typical sign-in sheet and box of visitor badges that adorned the countertop in front of the desk. Behind the young man she could see several men and women dressed in white and blue lab coats scurrying by the glass wall, and door.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

Lois fished her I.D. out of her purse and flashed it for the rent-a-cop. "Sergeant Lane, Metropolis Police. I'm here about a Professor Emil Hamilton."

A strange look crossed the face of the guard. He quickly blanked his face and reached for phone. "One moment please," he said and punched in a three-digit number. "This is Brad at the front desk," he said, as Lois listened. "There's a Metropolis Police Sergeant here about Professor Hamilton. Okay, I'll tell her." He hung up the phone. "If you would be seated." He indicated one of the several chairs arranged around a round table littered with old magazines. "Dr. Clyson will be out to see you in a few minutes."

Lois frowned as she sat in one of the hard plastic chairs. Who was Doctor Clyson and why was he coming out to see her? Was there something wrong with Hamilton? Her wait was a short one. Soon, a squat, balding man came through the door and offered her his hand.

"Sergeant Lane? I'm Dr. Clyson. I'm the head administrator for this facility." Lois shook his hand.

"How do you do."

"I understand you're here about Professor Hamilton?" He said, his voice seemed anxious.

Lois nodded. "Yes, I'd like to see him. I have some important questions that I need to ask him."

Clyson frowned. "Can I ask what sort of questions?"

Lois shook her head. "I'm afraid my questions are for Professor Hamilton alone. All I can say is that Superman sent me here."

The administrator nodded, and his frown grew deeper. "I was afraid of that. So, you are telling me that you don't know where Emil is, or what might have happened to him?" Lois was sure that her blank stare communicated her confusion more than words could. "You see, Sergeant, no one knows where Emil is. He hasn't been in, nor been in contact with anyone in several days. Frankly, we are beginning to get worried."

Lois was momentarily disconcerted by the doctor's words, but couldn't honestly say that she was surprised by them. It was clear that whatever Hamilton had told the clone after that press conference must have intrigued him enough to take Emil with him. It suddenly struck her that the Professor had probably been at the Boynton complex when she'd been there. But that also meant that Bill didn't know about him because he would have told her if he had.

She shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry to hear that. It's very important that I get in contact with him. He's never gone off before?"

Clyson shrugged. "Oh, he comes and goes; keeps irregular hours, but he always lets someone know if he's going to be gone for more than a day. It's not like him to not contact the facility to let us know where he is, or when he might be back."

Lois chewed on her lip for a bit. "Maybe there is some clue as to his whereabouts in his lab. Could we take a look?"

Clyson, shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that. Emil's research is classified. You'd need a special clearance warrant from the Federal government to get into that lab. I'm not even allowed in there without either Emil or Superman present." The Star Lab administrator brightened. "You said that Superman sent you? Perhaps you could get him to come in person. Then we could legally enter the lab since he would have the proper key card and identification."

Lois' brow wrinkled. "You mean that you have no means to enter Hamilton's lab? What if there were some sort of emergency, like a fire, or something?"

"Well, the lab is basically isolated from the rest of the facility. It has several fail safe systems in the event of fire, gas, explosive, or chemical accidents. If the suppressive systems don't handle the problem, the lab is locked down by an external, computer monitored security system." Dr. Clyson shrugged. "Worse case scenario is that whatever might happen within the lab would be contained within. Then we could contact the proper federal authorities and they would come and deal with whatever had happened."

Lois shook her head in disgust. "Seems like a silly way to run a research facility. Security is one thing...."

Dr. Clyson gave her a nervous laugh. "Well, Star Labs is privately owned and it's the price we sometimes have to pay to get those lucrative government contracts. When it comes to secrecy, the government takes a back seat to no one."

Lois nodded, mostly to herself. She'd had more than one run in with government types in the past. She always thought that the thing they were best at was obstructing an investigation rather than helping solve one.

"So, you say that Superman can get into this lab?"

Clyson nodded. "I know that he has one of the key cards and his cornea scan is on file with the security computer." He shifted from one foot to another. "I really am worried about Emil, and would like to do whatever I could to shed some light on his disappearance. So... you can contact Superman?"

Lois sighed. "Maybe." She reached out and shook the administrator's hand again. "Thank you for your help, doctor." She turned toward the door. "I'll be back."

****************************

Emil Hamilton knew he was sweating. He could feel the perspiration sliding down his forehead and into his eyes. He always perspired when he was nervous. He was very nervous at the present time.

If his suspicions were true, then he'd been playing a very dangerous game this past day. Knowing he was under constant surveillance yet trying to not let his watchers know exactly what he was doing had wreaked havoc on his already frayed nerves. He just wasn't cut out for these high pressure situations.

Still, he was fairly confident that he'd managed to succeed in what he'd hoped to accomplish. He'd know for sure soon enough. Within the hour he would be able to present Superman, and his associates, with the antidote that they had desired from him.

He prayed that what he'd managed to cook up would satisfy them, and they'd allow him to go back to his normal, routinely uncomplicated life. But somehow he doubted it. The people around here, Superman included, just didn't seem the type who would smile gratefully, then thank him for his efforts. He wasn't sure yet what he'd do if they wouldn't let him leave. Which was why he'd worked so hard to hedge his bets.

The cameras had been on him the whole time, but once you knew where they are, there were ways to obscure, or block their ability to see exactly what you were doing. He could only hope that he'd been clever enough.

***********************

Dr. Mamba knocked briefly on the outer door, then presumptuously entered Nigel St. John's office. The former British agent merely raised his brow at the intrusion. Mamba flopped down in the single chair in front of the large desk. St. John leaned back and waited for the good doctor to speak.

"So... is she here yet?" he finally asked.

Nigel shook his head. "No, but our spotters say she should arrive within the half hour."

Mamba sat quietly looking around the room. He clearly had something he was eager to share with St. John but didn't seem to know how to approach the subject. Either that, or he was just being melodramatic. Nigel frowned. He wouldn't put that past the doctor. Deciding it would be more expedient to play along, he sighed and asked. "So, is there something you wanted to tell me?"

A big smile spread across Mamba's face. "Now that you mention it ..." He leaned closer to the desk. "Hamilton has finished the antidote."

Nigel said nothing for several moments. He folded his hands in front of him. "Tell me again why it was a good idea to let this mad professor concoct his vile potion? The last thing I want is for our Superman to be invulnerable to the only means we have of protecting ourselves from him... if the need should arise."

Mamba shrugged his shoulders. "What could we do? Hamilton approached the person he thought was Superman and told him he had an antidote for the effects of kryptonite. We couldn't very well tell our favorite clone that we didn't want him to have that protection because we wanted to be able to kill him if we felt like it. No, it was fortunate that our Superman brought the professor here. At least now I know how the stuff was created and can easily find a way to negate its effects or, at the very least, sabotage its formulation."

Nigel snorted. It was a dignified snort, but a snort nonetheless. "Seems like a long way to travel just to arrive at the same destination."

Mamba smiled. "True, but now our superclone has no reason to suspect that we might ever wish him any harm."

"I don't wish him any harm," Nigel began. "As long as he does what he's told, I want him to have a long and happy life. I'm just being careful."

"Of course." Mamba's grin bordered on irritating.

Suddenly, a barely audible chirping sound came from St. John's pocket. He reached in and pulled out a small cell phone. Thumbing the on button, he spoke into the tiny device. "Yes."

He listened for a few seconds then closed the lid and stuck the phone back into his pocket. Nigel allowed himself the ghost of a smile as he noticed the curiosity burning in Mamba's eyes. "That was Boris. Our guest has arrived."

********************

Arianna sat in a luxurious lounge chair in a large outer reception area. It was clear that the space didn't get much use any more. Only a large, beady-eyed fellow sat in the hard metal chair behind the small desk. She supposed he represented some sort of security, though she had a hard time wondering what he did. After all, this was a secret base. No one who wasn't supposed to be here ever came. She doubted that he was there strictly to greet her.

The heavy metal door behind the guard opened and she stood as Nigel entered the anteroom. He inclined his head in her direction. "Arianna, so good of you to come."

She glared at him. "I shouldn't have, but I thought that it would be good for us to have another chat." She arched her back slightly. "It's time that we got things squared away once and for all."

"I couldn't agree more."

She didn't know which unsettled her more. St. John agreeing with her, or the fact that he was smiling. Without another word, she moved through the door that he held for her.

They walked down several identical hallways, and turned more corners than she could keep track of. The thought that she couldn't retrace her steps back to that reception area without help suddenly came to mind. The thought made her frown.

She'd never been in the complex before, but it seemed particularly unremarkable to her. It was obviously big, but nothing special that she could see.

After one last corner, Nigel led her into what could only be described as a small conference room. There were six chairs arranged around a mid-sized round, wooden table. She sat in the nearest chair, not waiting for him to tell her to do so. He moved over to a small portable bar in the far corner.

Looking at her, he raised a bottle of liquor and nodded toward the glasses. She shook her head. Now was not the time to be sharing any drinks and getting all chummy with him. She had no problem working with the man when their aims and goals coincided. But the real truth was that she didn't trust the man.

Once again, she was going to have to remind him that she controlled the flow of money, and if he wanted to continue to be funded in his schemes, he was going to have to acknowledge that she was ultimately in charge.

She didn't care what he and that silly doctor did shut up here in their little hideaway. She knew that the Superman clone was flying around Metropolis playing the good hero, which didn't bother her either. She wasn't naive. She was certain that St. John had another agenda for the superclone, but as long as he stayed away from her world, he could do whatever pleased him.

Nigel had poured himself a drink and remained standing. He continued to stare at her. She had to fight an urge to shudder. He really could be quite creepy sometimes. "So, Nigel, since you have suddenly gone mute, I guess I'll start." She tapped on the tabletop with her long fingernail. "What you and Mamba do up here is no concern of mine. I have what I want. I control LexCorp, and that means I control the money. So, as I tried to make clear to you before, if you want to continue to receive funding for whatever fun and games you're playing here, you have to play by my rules."

"Shut up, Arianna." His words were softly spoken, but there was also a measure of menace in them. "You were asked up here for one reason. And if you'd have refused, I'd have sent someone down to fetch you."

Arianna found herself sputtering in outrage. "Well, I never...." He scowled at her and she shut up.

"As I said; you were invited up here for one reason. I wanted you to meet someone."

Her outrage quickly morphed into confusion. Meet someone? Who could he possibly want her to meet? She had briefly met the Superman once, and she'd had plenty of dealings with Mamba over the last several months during the whole operation against Lex. So who was in the picture now?

"What do you mean? Who do you want me to meet?"

A soft knock on the door interrupted them. "Come in," Nigel said.

Arianna turned and was shocked into speechlessness by what she saw. A quick glance over at Nigel confirmed her worst fears. His feral grin spoke volumes. "Arianna Carlin-Luthor, I'd like you to meet your successor, Arianna Carlin-Luthor."

She knew her mouth was hanging open but she couldn't seem to make a sound. Standing in the doorway next to that grinning idiot Mamba was... her!

Her exact image smirked at her, then turned to Mamba. "You were right Doctor M. She really does have this stupid haircut."

Arianna slowly rose from her chair, not really daring to believe that St. John and Mamba had actually gone and cloned her. She reached out a tentative hand to touch the cheek of her doppleganger.

"Careful," the newly grown clone admonished the stupefied Arianna. "You'll mess up my make-up."

She felt, rather than saw, when the silent giant of a man entered the room.
Arianna saw her double step away from the door, leaving her next to the large lackey. It was obvious that he was Nigel's man, for he merely stared at St. John until the Englishman deigned to speak.

"Take Miss Carlin away," he said. "You may do with her what you will, but be sure to clean up after yourself."

Arianna whipped her head around and gaped at St. John. The expression on her face betrayed her shock and confused fear. Nigel just smiled.

"He doesn't know his own strength. He tends to break things."

Her lips moved but again no sound came out as she felt herself being dragged forcibly out of the room.