VIOLENCE WARNING:
I was told that I should include a warning that this chapter contains some PG13 violence. Please be advised.
TP&S II - The Return of a Superman - Chapter 19
by Tank
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Arianna looked up at her jailer. So far he hadn't done anything beyond locking her in a small dorm-like room. She knew that her respite wouldn't last much longer. He'd stuck her there a few hours ago, then had left. Now he'd returned.
She rose, and moved away from the bed. She didn't want to be caught there. "What do you want?" Her stomach turned when she saw a slight grin crack the formerly rock-like expression on his face.
He slowly pulled his shirt over his head. She gasped as his huge, finely sculpted body came into view. She'd met Mamba's clone of Superman before, and had noticed the fine body that creature possessed. This man in front of her looked like an exaggerated version. Hard muscle rippled from his shoulders and chest, down to his stomach. Unfortunately, she couldn't allow herself to enjoy the vision. This man was going to hurt her.
She backed up against the small desk unit in one corner of the room. She could feel the hard wooden edge against her back. He nodded his head in the direction of the bed. She shook her head in the negative. The last thing she was going to do was get under that mass of muscle and flesh. He would have to kill her first.
His grin got wider, giving him a look of near idiocy. He advanced on her. Arianna had grown up a child of privilege. The only daughter of wealthy parents, she had lacked for nothing. Then her short marriage to Lex had just continued a life of indulgence. She hadn't gone on to her studies, and chosen academic fields, until after Lex had discarded her.
But during her time of plenty she hadn't had to worry about mundane things such as working for a living. Instead she had done what many young, wealthy women did. She had worked on herself. She had kept fit by having a personal trainer and by taking classes in aerobics, ballet, and personal defense. It had been some years since her judo and kick boxing classes, but the lessons never really went away.
Knowing he wouldn't expect it, she lunged forward and aimed a savage kick at the inside of his left knee. He grunted and stumbled slightly to one side. Her foot went numb, as if she'd just kicked a piece of concrete. He frowned and reached out to grab her. She ducked but he managed to seize her by the hair. He jerked her head back, nearly tearing her hair out by the roots, and planted a crude, inexpert kiss on her protesting lips.
She reached down and grabbed his groin, squeezing for all she was worth. He shouted out in pain and, reflexively, tossed her away from him. She slammed into a wall, cracking her head against the plaster.
Still bent over, he stumbled toward her and caught her with a cruel backhand as she rose. The force of his blow split her lip and she spit out a broken tooth. Scrambling to her feet, she backed away from him, suddenly finding herself next to the small bathroom.
She quickly rushed inside the tiny, tiled sanctuary and closed the door. It took a couple of heartbeats for her fumbling fingers to find the lock on the door knob. Just in time, she turned the lock. The knob rattled a couple of times, then he began to pound viciously on the door. The loud pounding on the door was deafening. In a near panic she looked around herself. She was trapped!
Suddenly her gaze fell on the tiny shelf above the sink. She couldn't be that lucky, could she? She took the step over to the basin and reached out to the silver cup which held her captor's shaving gear. He used a straight razor. No one used a straight razor anymore. She lifted the sharp instrument from its resting place. The light of the small fluorescent glinted off the shiny four-inch blade.
A feral smile stretched across her face, causing her battered lips to bleed. She didn't notice. She turned toward the door just as it finally splintered under the constant beating it had endured.
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Lois shuffled a couple of stacks of paper from one corner of her desk to another. The entire desk top was covered in a multi-colored riot of stationery, note pages, computer print-outs, and scraps torn from whatever was handy. She didn't notice her visitor until he was right next to her.
"Hi."
She jerked back, turning quickly toward the sound. She took a deep breath. "Oh... Clark, you... startled me."
He gave her a smile that almost looked real. "Sorry about that. You seemed preoccupied there."
She grimaced at her desk. "Yeah, well, I've got a ton of stuff to catch up with."
"Are you ready for lunch?"
She really wanted to refuse, to tell him that she had too much work to do to go out for lunch. But she couldn't do that. She needed to keep him occupied for as long as she could so Clark could check out Nigel and his cronies. Also, one look at the clone's face chased any idea of refusal out of her mind.
"Sure," she said, smiling up at him for effect. She grabbed her bag and stood up, making ready to leave.
As the two of them began to move toward the station house door, she heard another irritating voice pipe up from behind her.
"Lane, where the blazes do you think you're going?" She turned to see Chief Andrews standing in his open doorway. His pig-like eyes fastened on her.
"I'm heading out to lunch - with -Clark." She gave the clone a quick look and pat on the arm.
Andrews waddled over to the couple. "No, you're not. I just received word that there's been a multiple homicide. Bill Church Sr., his wife Mindy, and his son Bill Jr. were just found in a dumpster behind the downtown Cost Mart store. They'd been literally torn to pieces."
Lois' eyes widened. She involuntarily glanced back at the man next to her. He was looking at the chief, a frown on his face.
"Look, Chief Andrews, is it?" The clone put his hand on the fat man's shoulder. "Lois and I are engaged. We haven't seen each other for a time and would like to spend a pleasant lunch together. Is that too much to ask?"
Andrews glared at the clone. "Haven't seen each other? You just got back from several days in Kansas. How much together time do you need? Besides, with Henderson gone, she's my best investigator. This is a high profile case."
The Clark clone directed the chief back toward his office. Lois watched as he guided her chief. "Surely this will keep till after our lunch? After all, it's not like those folks are going anywhere, is it?" The two of them disappeared into his office. With a flip of his hand, the clone closed the door behind them.
Lois bit on her lip, wondering what was being said in there. She hoped that the clone's mule-headed, egocentric manner wouldn't blow Clark's cover completely. The last thing she needed was for her supposed fiance to get in trouble by threatening a police officer.
A few moments later, the substitute Clark Kent left Chief Andrews' office, his face revealing a self-satisfied smile. He stepped up to her and placed his arm around her waist. It took all her will power to not flinch away.
"The chief reconsidered," he said, his voice betraying a smug note to it.
"What did you do?" she asked, somewhat fearfully.
They had reached the front steps and were approaching the sidewalk in front of the precinct house. "I just reasoned with the man." He gave her a strange look. "Why do you care? You know the man was on Luthor's payroll, don't you?"
Lois nodded. "Yeah, but I don't want you causing any trouble for Clark."
"What?"
A quick chill went through her body. "I mean, Clark's memory. When the world is finally allowed to know how you and St. John murdered him, I don't want his memory sullied by your actions."
The clone reared his head back and roared with laughter. He pulled her tighter to him. "You're really something, you know that? If you'd just get past that ridiculous notion of you have of right and wrong, we could really have some fun together."
Lois was about to launch into a tirade about her supposed ethics versus his complete lack of any moral center, but she held her tongue. She couldn't afford to drive him off just yet. As uncomfortable as it was going to be, she was going to have to suck it up and spend some time with this vile creature masquerading as her beloved. She just hoped that she'd be able to hide the fact that the super-clone made her skin crawl.
"Shall we?" He looked at her, a barracuda-like smile on his face.
Lois gritted her teeth and took a deep breath. "Sure."
**********************
Clark hovered high overhead of the small mountain that housed the facility where Nigel St. John and Dr. Mamba operated from. He could see where the rock slides covered both the normal front entrance and the back entrance he and Lois had discovered back when they had first found the place. Obviously, St. John, and the rest, had some way to get in. He used his enhanced vision powers to scan the entire mountain top. He knew that Nigel must've had some nearby entrance when he'd surprised he and Lois the other day.
After a few moments he located two different ways into the site. One, as he'd expected, was near the air shafts, but there was another one off to the north side of the slope. It was surrounded by large boulders and the only way in was from the air. It didn't take a genius to guess who used that egress.
Clark landed softly on the largest boulder next to the secret entrance. He looked through the earth covering the tunnel. He saw a long, sloping hallway that led back toward what used to be the back entrance. There was no one in the vicinity so he quickly dropped down into the facility.
He used a moment to orient himself. He'd never been inside the complex, but he'd done a lot of research on the original mine site, and had checked out the entire layout while looking down from above. It was a massive place, and with the minimal crew that presently occupied the site, there was more empty space than area in use. It would be easy to get lost in there.
Clark paused for a moment, then took off in the direction he thought would lead him toward the dorm-like living quarters. He had a better chance of finding Henderson in one of those than in any lab or office.
As he walked, he tried to come up with some plan of action. Lois had been all for him coming here pretending to be the clone. Sure, it would give him access, and he probably wouldn't run into any trouble with most of the staff, but he wasn't sure he could fool Mamba or St. John.
So, where did that leave him? What sort of evidence could he dig up if he had to make sure he didn't run into either of them? And what about Henderson? Lois would be thrilled if he got Bill out of the place, but it wasn't like that would help them nail St. John. Henderson couldn't exactly tell the authorities that he'd been kidnapped and held prisoner without it coming out that he'd been in league with Nigel and his associates in the first place.
And where was Professor Hamilton? Lois figured that it was likely that the clone had taken the scientist to this place. It made sense. Emil hadn't been seen since he'd talked to the impostor at his press conference.
He tried to use his x-ray vision to see through the walls of the complex but was stymied by a combination of lead ore in the mountain, and lead paint on the walls. He'd had a much better view from above. Now that he was down in the middle of it all, it was like trying to look through a fine mesh fence.
He passed several intersections, and was now, obviously, coming into a section of the complex where more of the activity was concentrated. He'd passed three or four grim-looking fellows. Typical hired muscle types. None had made eye contact with him. So far, so good.
He came upon a heavy metal door and stopped. He could hear a rapid heart beat coming from inside. He tried his x-ray vision on the door. The paint was cracked and had peeled in some spots. It was enough to let him see a small portion of a lab on the other side of the door. He stared at it for a few minutes, until he was rewarded with the figure of a small, stooped man walking past his field of view. It was Emil Hamilton!
Clark found himself reaching for the heavy lever handle.
"There you are, my boy. I'm glad you're back."
Clark froze at the sound. He recognized the cultured accent immediately. A glance over one shoulder confirmed what his ears had already told him. Nigel St. John was coming toward him. Clark remembered from overhearing the clone's conversation with Lois that there was some sort of rift between his twin and the elder Englishman.
Clark took a surreptitious breath, then turned to face Nigel. He kept his expression impassive.
Nigel inclined his head slightly in Clark's direction. "I heard it on the news. A job well done I must say." St. John laid a hand on Clark's shoulder and used his other to point down the hallway. "Come, tell me everything." Clark found himself involuntarily following his nemesis.
******************
Henderson was sitting on the small, hard chair that was the only other piece of furniture that one could rest on. Usually he just lay back on the bed, but today was different. He had to be ready.
He had no watch, nor any other way to tell time accurately, but his stomach told him that it was getting near to lunch. Soon someone would be in to serve him his meal.
Sometimes, St. John came along if he wanted to torture Bill with some bit of news. The amoral former British agent enjoyed trying to make him react. Usually, he was able to keep his calm, and not give away how he was feeling. But, occasionally, St. John was able to get a reaction from him. Generally, it only happened if it concerned Lois.
Most of the time it was just the over-sized flunky who delivered his meals. Bill had never thought of challenging the giant brute before, realizing that the man could probably break him in half if he wanted to.
Today was going to be different. If King Kong came in alone, he was going to act. He didn't have to beat the man, just distract him enough to get by him and out into the hallway. He fingered the the heavy drawer sitting on the desk top next to him. He'd pulled it from its glides and had set it next to him. He figured it was the best weapon he could come up with and he'd get maybe one chance with it. He had to make it count.
Suddenly the door handle began to turn. He tensed as the door moved. He nearly exclaimed out loud when he saw the form of the guard holding the tray coming around the door. It wasn't Godzilla. It was just an ordinary goon. Well, the guy was a good six foot two, and easily outweighed Bill by forty pounds, but next to the man-thing he was used to seeing, this guy was Tiny Tim. Of course, he carried a gun in his other hand.
Bill instantly sized-up the situation and knew he had a chance. He'd been there for many days now and had offered no resistance of any kind. He'd always been a good little prisoner. There was no reason to think that his demeanor would change now. It was evident in the casual way the thug carried his weapon that he really didn't expect any trouble from Bill.
Henderson gave the fellow a goofy grin. "Dang, I was beginning to worry you forgot about me. I sure am hungry." He pointed to the desk top next to him. "Just set it there, please."
The guard just grunted and bent to set the tray on the desk. Moving with a speed that didn't give the man a chance to react, Bill snatched up the wooden drawer and, with a wide-arced swing, slammed it into the head of the startled fellow. He went down like a pole-axed steer.
Bill stood up and checked the guy's pulse. He was alive, but out cold. Dragging the unconscious man into the bathroom, he bound his hands and feet with the towels from the small room. He didn't have any tape to act as a gag, so he shoved a washcloth into the man's mouth. He waited a few moments to make sure the fellow was breathing through his nose before he left him there in the shower stall.
As he moved toward the door he glanced over at the lunch tray left, neglected, on the desk. He grabbed the spoon and quickly sampled the fare. "Dang, that's good chili."
He began to set the spoon back down when he changed the utensil's path. Plunging the spoon back into the bowl, he allowed himself several more mouthfuls before walking away from in and moving back to the door. It really was good chili. He stuck his head out and looked both ways down the hall outside his room. As he'd suspected, the room they'd kept him in wasn't in a high traffic area. He shoved the guard's pistol into his belt and stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
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Anyone seeing the bloodied, desperate-looking woman roaming the near-deserted halls of the old Boynton mine facility would have had a hard time reconciling that image with the refined, cultured, businesswoman of just twenty-four hours ago. There was a savagery in her look, and a cold fire burning in her eyes. Arianna Carlin-Luthor had reverted to a primal state.
She prowled the halls with a purpose, careful to avoid being seen by anyone who wasn't her prey. Even though she'd never been in the facility before, she knew basically where she wanted to go. She just followed those who wore white lab coats.
Her progress was agonizingly slow because she had to take extra care to not be discovered as she came into area's of greater activity and personnel. But her caution paid off. Eventually she had worked her way through the basic labs and work areas of the small contingent of support staff. These gave way to a larger, more elaborate laboratory. One that was definitely more private.
She hadn't seen anyone in this area for several minutes. Of course, the 'private - keep out' signs might have had something to do with it. She knew she'd reached her goal.
Waiting several more minutes, just to be sure, Arianna finally approached the door to the private lab. She nearly shouted out with glee when she pushed down the handle and it moved beneath her hand. What an idiot he was. All his warnings, and postings against trespassers, yet the moron didn't even lock his door.
She eased the large door quietly open, thanking whatever gods watched over vengeful women that the door's hinges were well maintained. She slipped inside, letting the door close silently behind her. She could see the object of her search hunched over a microscope.
She could hear Mamba's mutterings. "I don't see how this could neutralize the effects of kryptonite radiation?" the doctor mumbled to himself. "I wonder if Hamilton ever really had an antidote?"
Arianna soundlessly crept closer, until she was directly behind him. "Is that any way to talk about another man's research, doctor?"
Mamba straightened up in shock. Before he could turn, Arianna had one hand in his hair, and the other positioned such that the straight razor, which had served her so well so far, was against Mamba's throat.
"You have one chance of coming out of this little adventure alive." Her voice was soft, but full of menace. She got a great deal of satisfaction out of feeling his body shiver under her touch. "I'm going to ask you just one question. You will answer this question truthfully, and with no hesitation. If I like the answer, I'll let you live. If I think you're lying to me, I'll slit your throat and let you bleed to death like the traitorous pig that you are." She pressed the blade a little tighter to his throat, nicking the skin just enough to cause a slight trickle of blood to form a tiny rivulet sliding down his neck. "Ready?" She smiled as his body began to shake.
She placed her lips against his right ear. Her voice was a steel-edged whisper. "Where is she?"
