Elseworlds Story warning

Last time:

Turning inward upon the landscape of his memories, he began a mental purge of all that was Clark Kent, erasing what he could, until, like the writing on a page, all that was left were the dim furrows of what had once been visibly apparent. The task was mentally tiring, inducing a deep, dreamless slumber. However, in redirecting his journey to the shadowed route, Kal El had also failed to remember that those who transgress in the dark without knowing the path are bound to stumble at the sudden presence of light.

Now...

Nine years later: The Congo

Lois Lane was scrunched up into the shadows as far as she could get, frozen in the corner of the darkened warehouse as the muffled sound of voices carried over the crates to where she was hiding. She stayed still, mostly not to be caught, but also trying to listen, wishing she’d boned up on her French a bit more, then at least she could better understand what the owners of the voices were discussing, and if they had any inkling of where she was hiding. The sound of rain pattering on the metal roof was no help either; not anymore. The weather had been a great cover for breaking in. Initially, she’d been very discreet in her investigation, but this close to having the whole story about the illegal arms shipments, she’d taken a couple of risks, including coming here in this rainy night without back up.

She’d gotten so far as to steal several pertinent files from the office she’d deduced was headquarters for the operation and was on her way out of the compound when her break-in had been discovered. She’d detoured her escape route into this warehouse toward the back of the compound, hoping to climb the fence when the coast was clear but the guards in the compound had spread out too quickly for her to complete her objective. Now her plan was to lay low and wait them out.

She realized that her plan really sucked when the blinding glare of a flashlight hit her full in the face and she winced back with shock even as she blindly turned to run. She detected voices raised in alarm as she squeezed through the very crevice in the warehouse wall she’d used to get inside only to discover, as she emerged on the outside of the building, she’d been pinned by a bright spotlight to face the barrels of a half-dozen semi-automatic rifles. Her breathing hitched to a halt as she backed against the solid wall with her hands upraised in surrender, her eyes hazing to a liquid blur as she realized how deep in trouble she was.

Perry! Oh god, Perry was going to have her head once he found out she’d let herself get caught. And Lucy…Lucy would definitely forget to feed her fish. Mom, Daddy, would they even know, would they ever find out?

The ominous, intermittent click of rifles being primed caused her to flinch as a cold trickle of sweat rolled down her spine. Unknown to her, she began to whine between her clenched teeth, the noise so light and high, no human hearing would have registered the sound.

Kal heard the sound though.

Just as he’d heard her panting breath as she’d broken into his office, and her quickening heart rate as she’d made her discovery of his file cabinet. The soft padding steps of her flight from the building, he’d detected as easily as the hammering thrum of her pulse once she’d made her way through the crevice into her current hiding place. To him, the huddled form of the reporter in the darkened corner of the warehouse was as clear as day.

He directed his guards to her location, warning that no shots were to be fired when they reached her. They obeyed; they knew better than to disobey, but they were taking a great amount of enjoyment in frightening the little news-hound. The useless priming of weapons proved that. Still, even *he* felt a little satisfaction in the knowledge that she was scared out of her wits.

He had led her a merry chase into the Congo, but now that she’d obtained evidence that implicated him, he’d have to finish this game off and start from scratch.

The thought frustrated him. He’d been completely willing to have her find out Luthor’s part in this whole debacle, to the point of leaving clues and directing her efforts, but he hadn’t meant for her to start looking in his direction. Sure, she had no knowledge about *his* participation in this venture; she didn’t even know who he was or that he’d been leading her all along, but Lex would know. Lex would find out, and then Lex would spill his guts. Not in the gory life-ending manner Kal preferred though.

Kal had worked for Luthor over the last twelve years…and Lex knew quite a bit about him. As much as Luthor entrusted portions of his empire to Kal’s care, the b**tard also gambled that Kal wouldn’t risk his abnormalities being revealed to some government program by turning on him.

Which was why Kal had chosen to destroy Luthor indirectly, through untraceable channels. Unfortunately, the wily reporter had gone snooping along paths he hadn’t meant her to go and he was forced to put an end to this investigation. That was too bad really. He’d grown to appreciate this woman’s determination and daring. Such a waste.

Lois let out a little shriek when the loud blare of a walkie-talkie erupted nearby. She froze uncertainly as the leader of her hunting party conversed shortly on his hand-held radio before signaling his men to lower their weapons. Two men were then motioned to restrain her, though she tried to skitter away as they came closer. Her attempt got her subdued, facedown in the mud while her wrists were cuffed behind her before being yanked painfully to her feet and shoved forward to walk in the midst of the group. They led her back to the building she’d initially stolen the documents from and she found herself back at the same office she’d broken into.

Only now the lamp on the desktop was illuminated and an imposing figure sat behind the desk, leaning back into the shadows, his combat boot propped on the corner of the furniture. She was forcefully seated in the camp chair before the desk. Her arms still restrained by hand-cuffs, she had to shift in the canvas backed seat to allow circulation to continue to her fingers. She soon discovered, as she relaxed her arms behind her back, one the cuffs dropped loosely around the bone on her wrist, past the palm pad beneath her thumb. If she were alone, she’d very easily be encouraged to attempt to pull her hand out.

But she wasn’t alone. Not yet. She had to get some sort of dialogue going, something that would lull him into to leaving her by herself for a minute. She wasn’t all that sure of her confidence though, considering the coating of mud on her face…and on her tank top! The thin material was wet and heavy with muck that caused it to droop enticingly down on her chest, exposing creamy skin that hadn’t made contact with the mire.

She took a deep breath, sitting up straight as she did so, revealing more of her skin in the hopes of distraction. She could very well end up raped for all her trouble, but at the moment this seductive maneuvering was the only option she could come up with. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Don’t bother, Ms. Lane. Talking isn’t going to get you out of *this* mess, so don’t even try.” The phrase could be construed as a command, a threat, but his tone was soothing, gentle even.

She deflated instantly, her eyes blinking in agitation as all her thoughts scattered at the mild tones emanating from the other side of the desk. Was this one of the bad guys or not? Well, he was warning her that she was in a mess. Hand cuffed in front of him in an office she’d recently pilfered on the suspicion that his operation was involved in gunrunning; she considered this a clear indication that she was in trouble. That definitely made him one of the bad guys. And he knew her name and mannerisms well enough to know she’d attempt to talk her way out of her “mess”. So he was a knowledgeable bad guy. A smart, bad guy could be bad for her situation. He might just take the fast, easy route and kill her.

“There are a lot of people who will look for me if I disappear,” she warned, fervently hoping that she wasn’t about to disappear.

“Yeah, I know.”

Oh, man, he sounded so sad. She was dead. Dead, dead, dead.

She flinched as she caught the quick motion of his hand, but he had only waved his guards away. They filed from the office, closing the door behind them.

“You were actually doing really well up until you crossed into my territory, Ms. Lane,” he informed her. “I was rooting for you most of the way.”

“Why?” She squinted a bit, trying to clear the mud from her vision. “Do I know you?” Instinctively, she knew he wouldn’t answer, but his voice had a familiar quality that made her try to reconcile the tone to the shape of the face she could barely make out in the shadows. “If you’re involved in this unwillingly, maybe we can come to an accord, trade information,-”

“Sure, and then when everything’s out in the open I’ll be free to go on my merry way and start my life all over unscathed.” He chuckled softly, sadly. “That’s a very unrealistic synopsis, Ms. Lane.”

There was a long pause that allowed a glob of mud to drip from her chin onto her leg while they both considered what to say next. Lois chanced speaking first.

“So where do we go from here?” she asked, the quivering in her voice in no way an act.

The heel of his boot scraped the surface of his desk as he shifted his body to sit upright. His face was still in the shadows, but she could sense earnestness from his bearing as he moved forward.

“This should only hurt for a second,” he murmured before he rose to his feet.

Her body started to shake as he made his way around the desk to come stand behind her chair. She jerked reflexively as he planted his hands on either side of her head, whimpering as his fingers dug into her skull.

Lois immediately flashed through every movie scene she’d ever witnessed where a neck-breaking kill had taken place; the quick jerk of the head, the sickening crack of vertebrae, and the glazed eyes of the body that thumped to the floor. Make it fast, her mind hammered, please, please just make it fast.

TBC...

TEEEEEJ