[CHAPTER 5: Friends?]Mayson sighed. A second body had been pulled from Hobb’s Bay that day. If Clark was right (which he most likely was), Intergang’s infighting had only just started.
She checked the time before returning back to the case file she was working through. She had less than an hour before she could expect Superman. The Foundation had contacted her that morning to arrange it. As strange as it was to work with the alien, she had to give it to him. He was efficient and professional. And she could respect that.
But she was still trying to wrap her head around what had happened the week before. While she wasn't exactly upset that he had spoken in her head -- grief, whenever she tried to put it into words it just became more bizarre! -- she couldn’t help but feel disturbed that he had the ability to speak into her head. Surely that wasn’t normal for him? After all, that whole situation had been far from the norm, even to him, but who knows?
She turned the page, scanning the witness accounts and police notes as she became fully immersed in her work.
A knock on her office door broke her from her thoughts. She straightened, instantly knowing who it was considering the time.
“Come in,” she said, looking up.
“Ms. Drake," Superman greeted, stepping in lightly. “Would you like me to close the door?” he asked, his eyes passing over the bookshelves against the far wall full of neatly lined books and folders.
“Please. Henderson was just called to a scene but I’ll update him the next time I see him,” she said, setting the folder aside while leaving it open.
“We can reschedule if you prefer,” Superman offered.
“No, no. We both have busy schedules,” she said as he closed the door. “And it actually allows me to discuss something with you,” she continued, forcing herself to forge ahead. If she stopped now, it would be harder to bring it up later, and she couldn’t stand having this unknown factor hang over her any longer than necessary. She wanted answers.
Superman tilted his head thoughtfully, before walking further into the room and taking a seat at the chair across from her desk. “I admit I have something I wish to say to you in private as well. I have not had the chance to thank you properly after you stopped Stoke and then took me to the Foundation. So thank you, Ms. Drake, I have no doubt that you saved my life,” he said sincerely.
"You're welcome,” she said, now a little stumped on how to continue. “I’m glad I was able to help, and, actually . . . something that happened that day is what I wanted to discuss. Getting straight to the point, you’re telepathic, aren’t you?”
Superman’s eyebrows shot up in sharp surprise at the question. “Well, I know my people could communicate that way, but I’ve never been able to do it,” he answered before continuing more slowly, “Why do you ask?”
"When you were hurt, I heard your voice in my head. It's why I took you to your Foundation. You had, er, thought to me that you needed to get there."
"Oh." Superman eased back, clearly disconcerted. “I apologize if I startled you. I hadn’t realized I had done that. I’ve never done it before, at least to my knowledge.” He frowned. “Was it just that one thought?”
“No. You mentioned wishing you knew why it hurt so much in the car and, just before I left the Foundation, you, uh, said--”
“ ‘Thanks, Mayson,’ ” he recalled softly.
“Right,” she said, noting how uncertain he had become. “Well, I just wanted to let you know what had happened, and I wanted to know if, well, I think I can say now with confidence that it was unintentional and not normal for you.”
Superman surprised her by releasing a short, uneasy chuckle before looking at her. “Yeah, definitely not normal.” He sighed. “I wonder if it was due to my aura getting distorted. I’d like to think if my thoughts were entering people’s minds after I’ve recovered that they would speak up and let me know.”
“Well, if you want to try to think something to me now, go ahead. I’ll admit I’d like to know if you can still do it,” Mayson offered.
Superman blinked. “Alright,” he said, taking a slow breath. “Anything?”
Mayson raised an eyebrow. “Nothing.”
“Now?” he inquired after a brief expression of concentration.
“No. Still just my thoughts,” she said, more than a little relieved.
“Well, I guess that answers that,” he said, looking just as relieved.
Mayson nodded, sliding the case folder between them, ready to move on to business.
“What was learned from the recent victim found in Hobb’s Bay?” Superman asked, no doubt sensing her desire to move on.
"Jason Marks. A real piece of work with a rapsheet a mile long, suspected intimidator for Intergang. Cause of death: shot in the back of the head, execution style," she replied grimly.
"How long had he likely been with Intergang?" Superman asked.
Looking down at the file, she said, "I'd estimate ten to twelve years."
"So a veteran member. This may be the slow beginnings of Intergang cleaning house or this man knew something they couldn't risk getting out. Or both," Superman murmured. "How is Church Sr. doing right now? I heard about a donation but haven't had a chance to look into it."
"He gave a statement yesterday that CostMart would be donating a million dollars to two local hospitals, but other than that . . ." she said with a shrug. "He's been pretty tightlipped on his injury and recovery. Although it seems that he's back to normal -- other than the bout of charity, but that may be due to the hospital saving his life."
"Why two hospitals though? He was only seen at one."
"Not sure. Maybe he heard a few of the doctors bounce between those two hospitals? But whatever the reason, Bill Sr. is making decisions now and appears in control," Mayson said.
"Who in Intergang could be a threat to him?" Superman asked. "Just his son?"
"I'd wager his son. No one else has enough clout," Mayson stated. "Which might be why things are moving slower than anticipated -- assuming the existence of an internal struggle."
"Junior is trying to outmaneuver his dad who's been running things for far longer."
"Yeah," Mayson agreed.
"The next time I see Senior, I don't think I'll feign ignorance. If his son is trying to take over as we suspect, I think we'd be better off keeping Senior in power than allow his son to take over the family business. I might even be able to begin having him help us taper the crime rate a bit. It'd be a nice test to see if he's serious about turning over a new leaf," Superman proposed.
"We do have enough to take the case to a judge now, but I think we'd be better off waiting to gather more evidence and prevent Junior from taking over. To be honest, Junior has always made me uncomfortable. I'm not sure why, he just seems . . . ." She shivered.
Her thoughts strayed to the few instances she had spoken to him, one-on-one. He always seemed fake, superfluous. As if he was playing a role to hide who he was. It certainly made sense now.
"I understand. Has there been anything on the individual who killed Stoke?" Superman asked.
"No. She made a clean getaway," she said, frustrated.
"Someone from Intergang?" he asked.
"Likely. She was definitely professional. She injured one of the security guards before she got away. Broke his collarbone after disarming him."
Superman's eyebrows rose.
"Yeah. Now the question is, who ordered her to kill Stoke?" she asked. "Senior or Junior?"
"Would you like me to ask?" Superman asked seriously.
"You might be the only person who can get away with asking," she said, as amused as she was bewildered by that realization.
"Alright. I’ll update you when I learn anything new,” Superman said with a smile.
“Thank you." She watched him leave through the door, wondering at the tentative sort of friendship she felt was developing.
A month ago, she never would have thought she would feel as comfortable as she did around the Kryptonian, especially after what had happened with Stoke, but now interacting with him felt almost . . . normal.
Life was certainly interesting.
O o O o O
Clark stretched as he got up from his bed, levitating slightly as he did so. The weeks had flown by and unfortunately the investigation into Intergang had slowed to a crawl as so many random and frankly bizarre things kept cropping up. Such as a prankster who took things way too far and, later, a doctor bringing dead gang members back to life. Some people had way too much time on their hands. Thankfully, each of those had been resolved without too much fuss, but they were annoying because of how many things they disrupted.
Thanks to recent events, he still hadn't been able to discuss what he wanted with Lois, but he would be meeting with Church Sr. as Superman in fifteen minutes.
Church Sr. had begun making public humanitarian moves with prison projects, giving the newly released a second chance by employing them at CostMart, and he had just officially contacted the Foundation to discuss a possible partnership in certain community programs.
He reviewed the letter CostMart had sent the Foundation, admittedly impressed by Church Sr.'s approach. If he was truthful, Clark could no longer honestly say putting Bill Church Sr. in prison was the best course. He still wanted justice to be served, but it was hard to discount the good a changed man could do---assuming he had truly changed.
And that was the question. One he would hopefully have by the end of the day.
O o O o O
Lois was frustrated and many unfortunate souls who worked with her quickly found this out. She had very little patience on a good day, but for the past few weeks it was non-existent.
Sure, she continued to get stories, but she was tired of being stonewalled when it came to Intergang, especially when the stories taking her time away from the vital investigation had continued to be so utterly ridiculous and outrageous. If yet another nutjob came out of the woodwork to create another few days of chaos for no other reason than just for the heck of it, Heaven help them, the Law would be the least of their worries.
"Lois?" Jimmy tentatively asked, approaching her desk.
"Yes?" she asked levelly.
"I got the police report you asked for. Looks like another hit job," he said.
She smiled. Finally, back to Intergang. "Thanks, Jimmy."
She opened up the report and he hurried off, no doubt happy to leave before something made her mood sour.
She reread the report, hoping for something to pop out at her, but nothing did. The poor sap, Derrick Marks, was just another generic and ruthless career criminal who met his demise with a bullet to the head. Maybe she needed to approach this differently. She needed to get inside, or maybe find an insider.
"Okay," she told herself, pulling out the list she made of the other likely Intergang members recently dumped into Hobbs Bay.
Her eyes spotted a last name that matched the newest victim. Marks. Jason Marks. Eureka! Lois gave a satisfied grin.
"Jimmy!" she called.
"Yes?" he asked, not sure if he should be happy or not with her grin.
"We need to see if any of these people have siblings or family members who we can talk to who has a criminal record."
"Will do, Lois!" he said.
O o O o O
"Kal, it is good to see you again," Bill Sr. greeted as the Man of Steel was escorted in, using the name the Kryptonian had said to use.
"It is good to see you as well. I trust your recovery from the attack has been uneventful?" Superman returned kindly.
"Yes, thank you. I use a hearing aid in my right ear now, but other than that I have fully recovered. Thank you for stopping Stoke. He was a dangerous man."
Superman nodded in agreement as he followed him.
They were meeting at the Church mansion, and it was clear Bill Sr. was doing his best to impress him with his very personal approach. Where before Church Sr. was testing the waters and trying to intimidate with his empire's power, now he was more concerned with building an alliance and not offending. A great deal had changed. Having been touched by his own mortality and the need to leave a proper legacy, a great deal had changed.
“Shall we eat now or would you prefer we talk in the lounge before we dine?” Bill Sr. asked, pausing at the edge of the entryway.
“I would prefer we discuss things over a meal, but I don’t mind either,” Superman said.
“Very good. Red or white wine? We also of course have virgin drinks if you require?” he asked, motioning to the butler to inform the kitchen.
“Red, please,” Superman said. “I don’t drink often, but I feel this is a special occasion.”
Bill smiled as Superman came to his side and they began walking. “Indeed, it is.”
They went down a hall and turned into a well furnished room that opened up into an elegant dining room. The table could fit a dozen individuals, but tonight only two seats were set. Two at the end closest to the quaint wood-burning fireplace with the head chair removed.
“My chef will be making roast duck with sweet potato slices tonight,” Bill said.
“Looking forward to it,” he said as they sat down.
“I apologize for not contacting you sooner, but I had a few things to take care of as I recovered. However, considering the news, it seems you have been busy as well,” Bill said as his butler served them the full-bodied red wine in delicate, tapered crystal glasses that allowed the liquid to breathe and release its enticing aroma.
“Yes. Admittedly, I wish I had as much free time as the recent trouble maker had -- essentially bringing the dead back to life by cloning them . . . why not cure the common cold instead?” Superman asked, a little exasperated.
Bill chuckled. “Yes, I’ll admit I nearly choked on my coffee when I read the headline.”
“Speaking of headlines, I’ve noticed a number catching my eye lately as well,” Kal said pointedly. “What’s going on?”
It wasn’t a leap to assume he was referring to the dead individuals being pulled from Hobb’s Bay of late.
Bill swirled the wine in his glass, suddenly solemn. “So you are going the direct route. I respect that.” He sighed. “To put it simply, my son is fighting to take control. I won’t cover for either my son or myself. We’re both giving orders to eliminate one another’s soldiers, but I’m ordering it all to remain away from the public and non-combatants.” He stopped turning his glass, staring into Superman’s chocolate brown eyes. “But you already knew that.”
“Yes. I did,” Kal said. "However, I'd like to know who ordered the hit on Stoke."
"That was my son. No doubt to prevent Stoke from ratting him out," Bill Sr. said with no hesitation.
“What can you tell me about the assassin?” he asked.
“Most likely Diana Stride, if you can believe it.”
“The lead reporter for Top Copy?” Superman asked, surprised.
“I’m surprised you know of the show, let alone her name,” Bill returned.
“Heard about her once. Eidetic memory. I can’t help it,” Superman said with a shrug.
“Nothing about you isn’t super, I see,” Bill commented with a smirk before growing serious once more. “You don’t seem too bothered by what’s been happening.”
“It’s not about what I’m bothered with or not but what can be proven in the Court of Law. There is also the knowledge of what will follow if things are not done a certain way,” Kal said frankly.
“Ah, the dreaded power vacuum.”
“Yes. And as I assume we both are aiming to prevent that, the work in the meantime can go a long way for you when, not if, things unavoidably do come to light.”
“Hm, yes. I have admittedly been thinking about that,” Bill sighed, straightening up in his chair slightly. “Were you able to completely read CostMart's proposal to your Foundation?"
"Yes. It is a very ambitious but worthwhile endeavour. I think if both of our organizations pull together faithfully we could change many lives for the better," Superman said. “I have some minor requests, but our two peoples can work those out when it comes time."
"Of course," Bill said as the butler returned with their dinner.
They shifted their discussion into more generic subjects that slipped into being more personal than either had intended or anticipated.
“I never thought I would be a single father, but when Catherine passed from cancer . . .” Bill sighed. “I focused all my attention on ensuring my son’s future was secure by expanding my businesses as much as possible. Even still he is my focus, although now I wish I had been more principled when he was young - for his sake. Perhaps I would have changed my course sooner and things would be better now if Catherine hadn’t gotten sick, but I’d like to think she’s happy that I’ve finally begun to see the world the way she did - despite everything.”
“When did she pass?” Kal-El asked gently.
“Sixteen years ago now. My son was eight. He took it like you’d expect,” Bill said, before taking a big sip from his glass.
They ate in silence for a bit, and Superman finished his last potato slice. Dessert was brought out.
"I hope one day to have a family of my own, a wife and children. Although I don't know if that is possible for me," Kal said after taking the small fudge cake.
Bill Sr. blinked, taken aback for a second before his expression quickly softened.
"I understand. No one wants to be alone," Bill said certainly as his tone became curious. "Would you be willing to adopt?" he asked, avoiding the more personal question of fertility.
"Yes. Although circumstances would need to be, well, I don't think it would be wise for me to adopt as Kal-El or Superman, let alone marry or even date. And, forgoing marriage, adopting as a single parent is another matter."
Bill nodded understandingly. "Well, I know some good judges in Family Court. So if you ever need, I can give you their names."
Kal's eyebrows rose, suddenly struck by how far this conversation had gone. Bill glanced at the clock and blinked at the time.
"I believe we shall call it a night unless you have anything you feel we should discuss now?" Bill said, silently noting their empty dessert plates.
"No. Thank you for the perfect meal,” Kal said as they both stood up.
“I will contact my people to begin moving forward with your Foundation. We have over a dozen people I feel would be a good fit for the first stage,” Bill said.
“I look forward to it. Good night, Bill,” Superman said.
Bill bid him farewell after escorting him out.
O o O o O
Lois was exhausted as she struggled with her front door while juggling several groceries bags.
‘Why on earth do I have so many locks again?’ she asked herself, finally turning the handle and stepping forward.
“Ooofff!”
Someone shoved her into her apartment, causing all of her groceries to scatter all over the floor, before slamming and locking the door behind them.
“I’m sorry, miss--” he stated.
“Who do you think you’re pushing?!” she shouted while twisting around, ready to swing a punch, but instantly fell still and silent as the man shined a bright beam of light right into her eyes.
“--But I don’t have time to explain.”
.
.
.
“Miss, are you alright?”
Lois blinked to find a police officer staring at her with concern.
“What the heck?!” she gasped, quickly looking around.
There were several officers just entering her apartment as if it was a . . . crime scene?! Her eyes suddenly fell upon the man who had barged into her apartment, only now he was very clearly dead.
“That man pushed his way in and then shined a light in my eyes while saying, ‘Sorry, miss!’ How is he dead?!” she asked, alarmed.
“Ma’am?” the officer asked again. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I don’t think so. He just flashed light in my eyes. When did you get here?” she asked, confused.
“Why don’t you sit down and we’ll go over what happened,” he assured, guiding her to a chair in the other room.
Lois didn’t fight him, not enthused about staying in a room with a dead man.
O o O o O
Clark entered Henderson's office with barely a knock.
"You sent for me, Bill? What's happened? I heard Lois' place is a crime scene. Is she okay?" he asked. His normally calm voice was tinged with anxiety and a fair amount of concern.
"She's alright, but a Dr. Neal Faraday forced his way into her apartment last night and somehow dazed her with, according to her, a flashlight. Afterwards, we believe Faraday was followed by two individuals and murdered," Henderson quickly summarized.
"Any clues?" Clark asked.
"The power was cut from the building, but some of Ms. Lane’s neighbors said two men came into her apartment. One of them claimed to be a doctor."
"Descriptions?" Clark asked.
"We tried but since the whole building was dark until the emergency generator was turned on, we only got that they were definitely male and the one who spoke had an odd accent."
"Better than nothing."
"I know you normally deal with cold cases, but since Ms. Lane is a friend. . . ."
"Thank you, I appreciate it. Granted, knowing her, she's likely already investigating," Clark said.
"Without a doubt," Henderson said with a chuckle, before sliding an envelope over. "Here is the preliminary report of the scene. I'll let you know when the autopsy is complete, but it's looking like the cause of death was blunt force trauma to the back of the head."
"Object?"
"Windowsill."
"Could it have been accidental, like a fall?"
"Would be the most awkward accidental fall I've ever seen. And the impact seems too severe to be a simple fall. I think Faraday was backing away from at least one of the men and they shoved him."
"Finger prints?"
"Nothing yet. We're hoping there might be some on the breaker, but I fear the perps might have been smart and worn gloves."
"The bad guys do seem to be getting smarter," Clark sighed.
Henderson hummed in agreement.
"Do you know where Lois is now?"
"Hotel. She refused to go to the hospital and is going in for work tomorrow."
"Sounds like Lois," Clark said while skimming the report. He paused. "She was motionless for over ten minutes after the officers got there?"
"Yeah. And doesn't remember anything that occurred during that time."
"That's . . . concerning."
"Agreed. It's a frightening piece of tech, and we didn't find it at the scene or on Faraday either."
"Okay. Well, I'll see what I can find and keep you posted," Clark promised.
"Thanks."
O o O o O
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