Chapter 2: Bureau 39Clark looked up from frying eggs, his head tilting slightly.
"What is it?" Lois asked, knowing that look.
"Your dad is calling me from the DoD. I better go," he said, glancing at Jon and Jordan who had just entered the kitchen. He looked back at Lois.
"Go, and don't worry. I have what we had discussed handled," she said, referring to the playbook situation.
He gave a reassured nod. "I'll see you all later," he said, before disappearing.
He flew to the DoD and entered a moment later, following the shrill of the handheld device releasing a sound only he (and likely Tal) were able to hear.
"General?" he asked, startling a few soldiers in the command center as Sam looked amused, long used to his abrupt appearances.
A man beside Sam straightened, looking far different than the rest of the military personnel in the room. He was a British officer with the rank of Air Marshal, which was equivalent to Lieutenant General: Sam’s rank.
"Thank you for coming, Superman. This is Air Marshal Richard Smyth,” Sam introduced.
“Pleasure to meet you, Marshal,” Superman said, shaking the man’s offered hand.
“Likewise, though I wish it was under better circumstances,” the Air Marshal said gruffly.
He was a large man, larger than Superman. Anyone who saw him would immediately think 'viking'.
"So I imagine this involves my brother?” Superman asked, deciding to be direct.
Smyth nodded as Sam began leading them out of the main room and down a corridor. “We have some information."
Superman straightened, suddenly very anxious. What was he about to learn?
They entered an observation room that viewed another room through a one-way viewing window. In that separate room, there was a man by himself, seated at a table with a bottle of water and a stack of papers.
"The group who had held your brother no longer exists, and while the group was technically under the United Kingdom's Ministry of Defence (MoD) when it was in operation, it acted independently and devoid of any true oversight. Few people in the MoD even knew the group, Bureau 39, existed,” Smyth said, doing all he could to appear calm, but Superman could hear his heart racing.
Smyth was uneasy. Uncertain of what Superman would do with the information and the information he would soon reveal.
“I, personally, only heard of it through hearsay in the early 90’s. For a long time, I admittedly thought it was little more than soldiers making up elaborate stories to pass the time. However, that changed when General Lane sent a direct, top secret, inquiry to my government,” Smyth explained. He swallowed. “I’m afraid most of the evidence of the group's existence was completely destroyed decades ago, but what we've been able to piece together through rumors and fragmented documentation has been alarming. The group had been dismantled and essentially scrubbed from existence in the late 1990's, although your brother escaped in 1985. We think they had been trying to find him before they finally gave up and funding fell under scrutiny. Anyway, someone who had worked there came forward after we began investigating.”
He motioned to the window and Superman stepped closer, looking at a little mouse of an elderly man sitting nervously at the table.
“This is Retired Sergeant Talbert Adams. He had briefly worked at the complex that had imprisoned your brother. He believes your brother had been 9 or 10 at the time he was there. He came forward after we began the investigation. He has been very cooperative and is willing to talk to you, if you wish,” Smyth said.
“I would like to,” Superman immediately confirmed.
Smyth nodded and took a shaky breath. “Superman, on behalf of my government, I am immensely sorry for the harm my countrymen unquestionably did to your brother. We have begun earnestly searching for any and all members of this group, and while we haven’t found any living members who had been in leadership or notable positions yet, I am ready and able to share with you individuals we have found and their part in the awful business. If there is anything the British Government can do to make amends, please let me know. The Royal Family as well extends their willingness to do whatever is necessary to correct this wrong.”
Superman closed his eyes, having to do so to keep control of himself. The sounds of their hearts told him that what they had uncovered was horrific, and they were afraid of how he would take it once he learned the details. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that his brother, wherever he was now, was alright. He had survived whatever hell this Bureau 39 had put him through. He opened his eyes, finding both Sam and Smyth watching him anxiously.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Adams has written down all the details he could remember about his time at the complex,” Sam said, pointing to the stack of papers at the center of the table. “The other details Smyth’s investigation has uncovered so far are also there.”
“How long was he there?” Superman asked, his voice thin.
“Adams only worked there for nine weeks before he was reassigned,” Smyth answered.
“No, my brother. How long was he a prisoner?” Superman clarified.
“Nine years. We believe he escaped when he was approximately 17,” Sam answered.
Superman took a deep breath and slowly breathed out through his nose.
“Superman, if you would prefer, we don’t need to continue this today. We can give you the documents now and you can see Adams at a later date,” Sam offered. "I know this is . . . difficult."
“No. I need to know," Superman argued. "Postponing this won't help anyone."
"Very well," Sam said, giving Smyth a nod.
Smyth opened the door and stepped in. "Sergeant Adams, Superman is here and will speak with you."
Adams immediately stood up and turned toward the door, hurriedly straightening his already straight shirt.
Smyth moved aside, keeping the door open, and then Superman and General Lane entered.
Superman offered his hand to the awestruck man who quickly shook it.
"I'm uh, I'll answer whatever questions you have the best I can, Superman," Adams said shakily.
"Thank you," Superman said before moving to the opposite end of the table.
They both sat down.
"We'll be outside, and, Superman, audio recording has been turned off," General Lane said. "Wave at the glass if you need anything."
"Thank you, General," Superman said, not sure if that made him feel better or not.
Sam and Smyth then quietly left and shut the door behind them.
Adams swallowed, rubbing his hands on his pants under the table, sweaty.
"I understand this is everything the investigation has uncovered so far?" Superman asked, motioning to the quarter inch thick stack of paper stamped 'TOP SECRET'.
It didn't look to be much.
"Yes. I'm sorry there's not more," Adam said.
Superman gave him a sad smile. "It's probably best it's minimal," he said, before taking the entire stack.
And then he read it. The whole thing. In a span of thirty seven seconds. He blurred through all 42 pages of it, though he notably slowed at the end, his frown growing and pallor draining.
Adams and the two watching on the other side of the glass didn't breathe.
Slowly, Superman set the papers back down in a neat stack, pushed away from the table, stood up, and walked to the far wall, back to everyone. With a bowed head, he covered his face with his hand and took in several shuddering breaths as he braced his other hand against the wall.
It had been everything he had feared it would be, and more. His childhood nightmare had been experienced by his brother. His brother had lived it for nine whole years. Alone.
Although the exact details of the experiments had not been uncovered, the fact they had occurred was upsetting enough, and what they did know about them was horrendous.
From one paper that had managed to avoid the purge, Bureau 39 had learned he healed from grievous injuries (brought about by an experiment) if exposed to yellow light. And they had learned that in 1981. If their estimate of him being 17 when he escaped in 1985 was correct, that would have meant he had been no older than 13.
Just one year younger than his twins.
Clark wiped the tears away but it didn't matter, they kept silently coming.
Who would do that to a child? Any child?
It was evil.
Just imagining anyone doing that to Jon or Jordan. . . .
And they had done it to his brother.
His mother's son.
And for them to have kept Tal in the dark for so long that they had been able to hurt him?!?!
He clenched his eyes closed, heat unintentionally gathering as his hands closed into fists.
Adams gasped, able to see the glow of red condensing to Superman’s temples, even from behind.
"Superman?" Sam's voice over the room's intercom cut in.
With his back still to the window and Mr. Adams, Superman lifted his hand, asking for a moment as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand.
He forced the heat pooling behind his eyes to recede.
"I'm sorry," Superman said once the moment had passed. He turned around, glancing at the window that was a mirror on the nearest side.
His eyes were a little red rimmed, but from irritation, not heat.
He didn't peer through the one-way glass, but by their pounding hearts he knew Sam and Smyth were staring at him in concern and frankly fear.
"There's no need to apologize," Adams said softly.
Superman came back and sat down.
"So he was 9 or so when you saw him?" Superman asked after the rise in silence.
Adams nodded. "I only saw him three times. He never spoke. I . . . I showed him how to make a paper airplane. He smiled when I showed him." Adams swallowed. "He didn't have any toys.”
“And you think that is why you were reassigned?” Superman asked, referring to a line Adams had written in the report. “Because you were kind to him?”
Adams nodded stiffly as he glanced at the top corner of the room and then the mirror.
Superman noted there was a camera at that corner and he knew there was a camera on the other side of the mirror that captured everything from that side.
Adams shifted his chair, altering the angle he was from the camera as he covered his mouth.
“I didn’t put this in my report,” he whispered.
He clearly didn’t want anyone to hear or visually make out what he was saying except Superman.
“Years ago, your brother found me. I–I thought . . . well, I don’t know what I thought, but he . . . he said he just wanted to see me. He said he removed my name and to keep the fact I had ever been there a secret because ‘they’ were cleaning up. I don’t know who ‘they’ were, but . . . I think I know why the investigation isn’t finding anyone important alive.” Adams looked up and locked eyes with him.
Superman rested his fist near his mouth, obscuring the view of his lips. “When?”
“‘97. Summer. Idaho.”
Superman lowered his hand.
"I'm sorry. I wish I had done something more for him back then. I know some of the worst things done are by people 'following orders', and while none of my orders involved any bad actions, they did require inaction, which is almost as bad. I just wish I had known what to do at the time," Adam said apologetically, speaking normally again.
"Well, thank you for coming forward now. You're giving me answers I need," Superman answered, before suddenly turning his head hard to the left, hearing something. "I need to go."
And then he shot out of there, leaving the door ajar with a gust of wind.
O o O o O
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