Thanks, as always, to those of you who've commented on this story so far.
I'm glad people like it. I've been officially writing this for more than a year, now.
This... little tale
... has turned out to be larger than I'd anticipated when I first had the idea, but I do have a specific plan for the characters. I also have an increasingly
large section of author's notes at the end.
I was going to post some of them, but the ones that pertain to this part, for instance, do contain spoilers. So I'll have to wait.
From part 30:
Surrounded by their laughter, Martha shooed the men out of the kitchen. “Come on, Lois. Let’s see what we can come up with,” she said. “We still need to see if this pattern translates into a practical outfit, and I think the ultimate test would be to try it on and do a few super things in it. I’ll need to get your measurements, and then you can keep me company while I work on it. I’ll tell you all about how cute Clark was as a little boy.”---
The Girl Next Door, part 31
Martha turned out to be a quick and talented seamstress.
She began by getting Lois’s measurements – a lot of them. For instance, she took *six* measurements on each of Lois’s arms alone – wrist, mid forearm, elbow, mid upper arm, and shoulder circumferences for both arms. The shoulder circumference was taken by wrapping the measuring tape around Lois’s arm flush against her torso as she held her arm straight out from her side. Martha also measured from Lois’s neck down to her wrist.
There were similar measurements for both legs and for her torso, and by the time Martha had taken and recorded all of them, Lois was feeling kind of boggled.
“Why so many?” she asked. “I mean, the fabric is stretchy, isn’t it?”
Martha was sitting, measuring tape draped around her neck, at the kitchen table. Her sewing machine was set up and ready, and she was currently charting out Lois’s measurements on a roughly-drawn outline of a vaguely female body. “Yes, there is a lot of give in the fabric,” she answered. “But these outfits need to be well-made or they won’t hold up.”
“But what about… Well, Clark calls it his ‘aura.’ It keeps anything close to him from… well, ripping or burning or shredding… or whatever.”
“Yes, honey, but all fabric still wears out over time, with repeated use. Here, sit down.” She indicated the chair to her left.
Lois dropped into it, resting her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands as she watched Martha.
“Since you’ll most likely be wearing this on a daily basis, or close to that,” Martha continued, “it also needs to be very comfortable. I know you don’t feel discomfort from… Oh, I don’t know – chafing, for instance. But there’s nothing more annoying than constantly having to tug down a sleeve, adjust the fit of a neckline, or yank down on pants that ride up.” She grinned at Lois.
Lois laughed.
“Now, on a more practical note, we need to consider colors. It’s ultimately your decision, of course, but I’m still leaning toward black as the primary color. With your coloring, black looks good on you. If we pair it up with a nice, vibrant color in this front panel –“ She tapped the drawing she’d done earlier. “- it should look quite dramatic. And the bright colors will help draw eyes away from your face.”
Lois thought about it for a moment. “Yes… I wear black now, when I fly – at night, anyway. I’ve been experimenting a little with daytime flight,” she added self-consciously.
Martha nodded matter-of-factly. “You didn’t have the freedom Clark had, while growing up, to really explore that ability, did you, honey? I’m glad you’re getting a chance to explore it now. I imagine it adds a whole new dimension to the experience.”
“Oh, yes. Definitely. I’m only sorry I didn’t discover daytime flying sooner. But anyway, yes, I do think I like the idea of black.”
“And for the accent colors…” Martha thought for a moment, then stood and began rummaging in the basket of fabric, digging below the reds and blues and yellows of future Superman suits. “Let’s see what I have…”
She drew out a swath of bright fuscia cloth. “How about something like this?”
Lois blinked. It was very… pink. The bulk of the fabric in the basket was the familiar shimmery blue, red, and yellow of Superman’s suit. But there were several other colors as well, all of them the same shimmery material. So everything in the basket was probably left over from when Martha made Clark’s – Superman’s – first suit.
“Uh… It’s… pretty. Very… pink.” She looked at Martha. “Did you really use that in one of the… reject Superman suits?”
Martha laughed. “No, honey. This –“ She held up the pink material, letting part of it spill onto the table where she’d already laid out the black. “…is the result of having Jonathan pick up more fabric for me.” She refolded the pink material into a loose bundle and set it aside on the table, then sat down again.
“To avoid calling any attention to myself, I usually only buy one color at a time. And whenever possible, I wait until I’m in a larger town than Smallville. That way I’m just an anonymous person buying fabric. Well, Jonathan had to go up to Topeka not long after Superman had his debut, so I asked him to pick up more red for me. But he’s red-green color blind.”
“Oh. Then why…” Lois hesitated, and Martha anticipated her.
“Why did I send a color-blind man out to buy me colorful fabric?” she asked with a laugh.
Lois smiled back. “Yeah.”
Martha laughed harder. “Because Jonathan will ask someone for help to make sure he’s getting the right color. Since fewer women than men are color-blind, he usually asks a woman. Unfortunately – or fortunately, I suppose, if you choose this for your suit – the woman he asked must have been color blind, because she told him this was red.”
Lois laughed, too. It *was* pretty funny.
“And sending the poor man all the way back to Topeka to exchange or return it just didn’t seem right, when after all, he was doing exactly what he was supposed to do.”
“So really, I ought to choose this color,” Lois observed. “It’ll make the whole fiasco seem worth while – at least to Jonathan.”
Martha laughed again. “I’ll admit that I’m not likely to use it for anything else any time soon, but don’t feel you *have* to pick this.”
She stood again, and rummaged through the basket of material. “I also have this blue –“ She laid out a blue fabric very similar to Superman blue, but a little darker. “We could use it with a navy blue cape – although that color scheme may be too dark.” She laid the blue fabric on the black, and they both studied it.
“It’s certainly different than Superman’s colors,” Lois ventured. “Do you think it’s… bright enough? One of the things we’ve said about Clark’s suit is that the colors are nice and bright, so Superman is easily recognizable in an emergency.”
“Hmmm. The pink would certainly work better, in that case,” Martha mused. “I guess we could go with a pink cape, too – except that your hood will be black.”
“I like the idea of a dark cape, though,” Lois said. She grinned at Martha. “Gives me a sort of dark and mysterious air.” She drew out the last few words dramatically.
Martha laughed. “Actually, that might work in your favor, Lois. If you’re going to pitch yourself as a tactile telekinetic, and especially if you were to reveal psionic powers of some kind, being a little dark and mysterious would help further the image.”
She shifted the blue fabric to the side, where she’d set the pink. “At any rate, let’s get started on the actual suit. The colored panel will go in last, so you’ve still got plenty of time to decide.”
Lois nodded. “Okay.” She watched as Martha opened the tackle box and began to set out pins, scissors, and thread – regular big rolls of thread and tiny little metal ones. Travel size?
“Um, is that an actual tackle box?”
Martha laughed again. “Yes, it is. All the little compartments work so well to hold everything I need for sewing. When Jonathan asked for a new tackle box one Christmas, I was so taken by the ones I looked at that I just had to get one for myself.” She grinned at Lois. “When he saw mine, he thought I’d decided to take up fishing with him. Since it’s sort of a guys-only thing for him and his buddies, or Clark when he’s here, poor Jonathan didn’t know how to break it to me gently that while he loved me dearly…”
Lois started to laugh. “Did you put him out of his misery right away?”
Martha smiled beatifically. “Of course I did. Right after we finished the ice cream sundaes I’d wistfully mentioned I’d like to have…”
They were still chuckling off and on over that several hours later, after Martha finished the first part of the suit. She’d shown Lois how to wind bobbins on the sewing machine, and had set her to winding quite a few black ones. “I usually just buy them, but we won’t have enough if I’m going to make you several suits. You’ll need at least two to start with – one to wear and one to wash,” Martha had told her. “And of course, for colors I don’t use very often, I just wind my own bobbins when I need them.”
Bobbins were the little ‘travel-size’ spools, and they went in the bottom of the sewing machine. They provided the underside of the stitch, according to Martha. The sewing machine had a function that allowed you to wind a bobbin from your spool of thread very quickly. Lois made a few of them under Martha’s guidance, and then took over the task so that Martha could work on the suit.
In between winding bobbins, Lois watched interestedly as Martha created her pattern on pattern paper from a big roll, then cut it out and pinned it to the black fabric, and then cut it out again.
They paused in their tasks now and then for Lois to try on parts of the suit.
“You’ll have to try it on in pieces, Lois,” Martha said during the first try-on. “If I pin the whole thing together and then have you put it on, we may end up snagging the material on one of the pins as you pull it on. Although I don’t have to worry about poking you with a pin,” she added with a smile.
By early afternoon, Martha had finished both suits to the colored panel stage.
“Okay, honey. Decision time.”
Lois sighed. “I have no idea.”
Martha smiled. She handed Lois one of the unfinished suits. “Come on. Let’s try them both out.” She picked up the pink and blue fabrics, tucked them under her arm, and beckoned. They went into the room they’d been using to try on the suits.
“Put that on, and we’ll tuck this into the front,” Martha instructed, folding the pink fabric until she had a rectangle roughly half the size of a bath towel. “It’s not very sophisticated, but it will give us a general idea…”
Lois changed into the suit at close to super speed. Martha had fashioned it with the half mask and hood attached. “Because of the hood, I think we’ll need to have the suit fasten up the front,” she’d explained. “Then you can just pull on the hood, pull it down over your eyes, then fasten the front and you’re ready to go.”
When Lois stood next to her, wearing the partially finished suit, she tucked the pink fabric into the open front. “Pull up the hood, honey.” Both women studied the effect in the mirror.
“It looks good.” Martha smiled at Lois in the mirror. “Want to try the blue?”
Lois nodded, and with Martha’s help, exchanged the pink fabric for the blue. Once again, they both studied the effect in the mirror.
“Hmmm.” Lois looked at Martha in the mirror. “This helps, but it’s still going to be hard to decide.”
“Well, let’s look at your choices again, shall we?”
---
Lois chose the pink. The blue appealed to her equally well, but the color contrasts were much more muted. Clark’s belief that the bright colors made him quickly identifiable was valid; the sharp contrast between the black suit with its dark cape and the bright pink would very likely help her in a similar manner.
Martha cut out the color panels and then sewed them into the suit. Because the torso of Lois’s suit was much more contoured than Clark’s was, Martha created the front panel out of several smaller pieces sewn expertly together. The end effect put a seam down the center, which Martha used to conceal a zipper that ran down the length of the suit from the neckline to just below the waist.
Both suits were finished by late afternoon, and Lois helped Martha clear away the sewing supplies. The men returned from the barn, where Clark had been helping Jonathan with many of the things Martha said were on Jonathan’s ‘get to it someday’ list.
Slightly self-consciously, Lois modeled one of the suits for the men, both of whom heartily approved. At Clark’s suggestion, seconded enthusiastically by both of his parents at the same time, the four of them went outside so that Lois could, as Clark put it, test the suit out.
“We have about an hour and a half before dinner, honey, so this is an excellent opportunity to see how it holds up – and how it fits – during daily use,” Martha said.
So with Clark, Lois went outside to the field behind the farmhouse. Other than the four of them, there wasn’t another soul for miles, although both she and Clark checked to be sure. A lifetime of caution had made it ingrained.
And with Clark, spun into Superman, she flew and leapt and ran and lifted and threw and floated and flipped, and then the two of them soared up into the dusky sky in tandem.
Clark took her hands much in the way ice skaters were depicted skating in pairs, and they indulged themselves in a purely aimless lark. No destination, no goal – just fun. The flight itself, fast and full of swoops and rolls in and among the clouds, was exhilarating, and the connection between them seemed to grow stronger.
To the watching couple on the ground, the two of them looked like birds in flight, moving as one, before they faded into the night sky. A lilt of laughter floated down like an autumn leaf, and Martha and Jonathan smiled at each other.
“Come on, honey,” Martha said. “Help me lay the table, and tell me how many things you two managed to cross off your list.” Arm in arm, they went inside.
---
“Dad, I wanted to ask you… what should I do about that sign?”
“What sign?” Jonathan asked.
The four of them were sitting at the kitchen table. The meal had been cleared away and the remains of an apple pie sat on the counter. The candle in the Circle of Friends candleholder flickered merrily as they sat sipping coffee.
“The sign whose post I used to secure the mugger the other day.”
“What about it, Clark?” Lois asked.
“How do I replace it?” he asked, then sighed and shook his head, glancing ruefully at her. “That’s yet another thing I didn’t really think out before creating Superman. If I destroy public – or private – property… What should I do? I suppose it’s not very practical of me to pay to replace stuff. People would wonder where Superman gets the money, and I wouldn’t want any kind of trail to lead to Clark Kent…”
“It doesn’t seem fair, somehow, anyway,” Martha said. “That if you’re helping someone out - voluntarily – by stopping a crime, that you’d have to pay for damage.”
“Even unintentional, it is property damage, though,” Jonathan reminded her. “But I imagine insurance might pay for that sort of thing,” he added thoughtfully.
Clark made a face. “At first, anyway. But what do I do if they start excluding ‘damage due to Superman’ along with acts of God? And not everyone has insurance, Dad.”
“The city property, of course, would be maintained by the city,” Lois said.
“Paid for by taxes - and they could go up,” Clark said.
“Clark, I wonder if you’re over-thinking this,” Jonathan said. “There are some things even Superman just can’t fix. Taxes can go up for many reasons - new public utilities, improvements… If taxes did eventually go up because of you, well – sometimes you just have to balance your options. Is the city safer because of Superman? Higher taxes for a safer city.”
“But there are always people who would oppose that. We may hear from them – letters to the editor, talk shows…”
“What about…” Lois began. “This wouldn’t happen right away, but maybe…” She stopped, marshalling her thoughts.
“What?” Clark asked curiously.
“Could we set up a… I don’t know… a fund?”
“How? What kind of fund?” he asked.
“Well, set up a charity – maybe in Superman’s name…” The idea was gelling in her thoughts. “We could be Superman’s voice, you know? Say he asked us to suggest it…”
“Or better yet, pick a different person altogether to pitch it, Lois,” Martha said. “So that you two are not too closely associated with it.”
“Yeah.” Lois nodded. “Good point. That might be better. But anyway…”
“How would you fund it?” Clark interrupted.
“C’mon, Clark - you *know* there’ll be merchandising now that Superman’s on the scene. Actually, it’s amazing that there hasn’t been any yet.” She grinned at him. “Just think – in airports, tourist shops, and street vendors’ carts around the world.” She threw her arms out in a grand gesture. “Superman mugs, Superman decals and bumper stickers, Superman posters, Superman dolls – uh, action figures,” she amended, ignoring Martha’s sudden snort of laughter. “Superman jammies…”
Clark looked horrified. “Superman *jammies*?” he asked, appalled.
Lois laughed. “Hey, I’d buy ‘em,” she teased.
“Me, too,” Martha chimed in.
“Mom!”
“Superman wallpaper, Superman sheets, Superman toothbrushes and Superman nightlights. Superman lunchboxes. Superman T-shirts. Superman soap-on-a-rope…” Lois continued, grinning. “…Superman Halloween costumes, Superman undies…”
Clark groaned, leaning forward to put his elbows on the table and dropping his face into his hands. “Superman *undies*? Another thing I never - *ever* - thought of.” His voice was muffled.
By now, Jonathan and Martha were laughing heartily.
Lois continued blithely. “And… if Superman did appearances – and you know he’ll be asked, Clark - he can designate his own charity. And the funds can be used to help people in need, or offer scholarships…”
Clark looked up. “Now that, I like.”
“You usually need a lawyer for that sort of thing,” Jonathan said.
“Yes, and you need to copyright the name,” Martha added. “Soon.”
“But he’d have to go as Superman, wouldn’t he?” Jonathan asked. “Couldn’t that pose problems? For instance, wouldn’t he have to prove citizenship?”
“I bet Perry knows a way around that,” Lois said. “And with a little leverage, I imagine the city might be induced to make Superman an honorary citizen. Or something. After all,” she said with a straight face, “Superman’s a free agent. He’s not under any kind of contract. I’m sure there are cities all over the world who’d be perfectly happy to be Superman’s home base, and perfectly happy to add a few… incentives to get him…”
“Lois!” Clark stared at her, apparently unsure if she was teasing or not. “Superman can’t ask for money!”
“Of course not,” she said reasonably. “But if some other country offered him citizenship…” She lost the battle to contain her laughter, and he relaxed.
“Seriously, though, Clark – I would think the city would be happy to grant Superman honorary citizen status, especially if the reason you wanted it was to create a charity which would further help people.”
“You two probably shouldn’t be very involved as yourselves, though,” Martha reminded them. She thought for a moment. “What if you designated someone else…
“Like who?” Lois asked.
“I don’t know - someone trustworthy…” Martha glanced at Jonathan.
“How about Perry White?” he suggested. “Or that policeman you two know.”
“Hmmm. Good idea – either one of them would be great,” Lois said. “It’s probably a fulltime job, though.” She looked at Clark, who nodded in agreement.
“Not Perry himself, Lois. Have Perry suggest someone,” Martha said. “And you need to find a lawyer. Maybe… have the Planet – Perry – contact a lawyer on Superman’s behalf?”
Lois nodded. “We’ll talk to Perry on Monday – unless you want to stop by as Superman and ask him, Clark?’
He shook his head. “I think the less Superman is associated visibly with the newspaper, the better. You and I can ask on Superman’s behalf. Perry knows we’re talking to Superman about the bomb threats. We’ll say he mentioned it then.”
“Excellent. Now, on to more important things,” Martha said with a smile. “Would you like to take the rest of the pie back with you?”
She ignored Jonathan’s quick “*Some* of the pie, Martha - *some* of the pie,” but she did remove one slice and set it on a plate.
Clark excused himself to take their bags – and the pie, well-wrapped and secured in Tupperware – back to the city. He returned within five mintues.
Finally, with hugs all around, Lois and Clark lifted into the air and turned toward Metropolis, hand in hand.
-----
Monday morning found them back in the newsroom early, digging into the newest information Jimmy had found them. They were in one of the conference rooms again, since the table offered a larger work surface than their desks.
“You know, Clark,” Lois said suddenly, “whoever is behind these tests must have lots of resources. And I don’t just mean money. There’re people, too. People who must have helped set some of this stuff up, but who aren’t talking. People like those muggers who are willing to take a fall and not talk. So who wields that kind of power? Who do we know who has those kinds of resources?”
He looked at her, and she knew what he was going to say. She was nodding even as he said it.
“Lex Luthor?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “But you know…” she said slowly, “A few weeks ago I might have immediately thought of him. But now… Do you really think he could organize something from jail this fast?
He shrugged. “I don’t know. The guy was pretty powerful. He had a lot of enemies, but he also had a lot of… loyal employees, I guess you could say. And I’m almost positive that somebody that rich didn’t have all his assets stashed in places where they could be found – and seized – easily.”
“So we’re in agreement that even from jail, it’s possible he’s behind all this. But what about motive?”
He grinned, although it was more of a grimace. “You said it yourself, Lois, when we were investigating him. You told me about the time you met him – what he said when you attempted to interview him. The guy likes power. Better than anything else, I think. I know he told you that it was the pursuit of pleasure that drove him, and that power was a means, not an end…” He trailed off at her look. “What?”
“Clark, you’re repeating word for word what I told you,” she said. “How can you even remember that – photographic memory aside?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Lois, do you really not know? I was bowled over the moment I saw you. I just tried very hard to keep it low key – I wanted your heart, but I also wanted your friendship.”
“But…” She shook her head in confusion. “Clark, I remember every… *special* conversation we’ve had about… you know, about us. Those conversations have been the important ones, though - the life-changing ones for me. But what was so special about that conversation? It was just an investigation.”
He smiled at her. “You were what was so special, Lois. It was my first real investigation with you, and you were just awesome. You were in full Mad Dog Lane mode, determined to solve that whole space program thing. I can see – could see then - why you won all those awards.”
Unable to resist, she grinned at him. “Stick with me, buddy, and you’ll be winning them too.”
He laughed, and continued, “Why do I remember that conversation so well? Simple. You are a brilliant investigative reporter, Lois, and you were hot on the trail – and that combination of brilliance and passion was, and still is, absolutely fascinating.”
“I think you’re making me blush, Kent,” she said, a little overwhelmed. No one since Mama had ever invested so much worth into what she felt, what she said, and what she believed.
It was heady. It was scary. It was powerful and appealing and flattering. And it was making her speechless. She looked up to see him smiling gently at her.
“Too much?” he asked softly. When she nodded shyly, his smile broadened. “Then back to the grindstone, Ms. Lane.”
She laughed, immediately feeling herself again. “Okay. So you were saying…?”
Obligingly, he continued. “Whatever Luthor told you, I think he was lying. Or at least prevaricating. I think he likes – and craves – power. Even if he justifies it by saying that achieving power gives him pleasure, the bottom line is, the guy likes power.”
“And…?”
“Well, it’s like…” Clark paused. “Like his tower, Lois. I think he liked to look down at the city. Liked being way up there, literally, at the top. But then Superman shows up. Regardless of whether Luthor’s a free man or in jail, Superman probably causes him a lot of frustration. Because Superman is more powerful. Because Superman appears to be undefeatable.”
She nodded. “Yes. I think you’re right. It’s a strong argument for what might be driving him to do this. If nothing else, he sees what to him is the ultimate in power, but it’s not being used for gain. In the hands of a man like Luthor, power like yours – like ours – would be absolutely disastrous.”
“Exactly,” he said. They smiled at each other.
He winked at her. “Of course, we still have to prove all this.”
She laughed. “I guess we can try to find out by asking him. We can go see him.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s already in jail without any hope of release, so it’s not like he’s got anything to lose. Maybe he’ll talk, especially if we appeal to his ego.”
“We’ll need to call Bill Henderson. Luthor’s in the maximum security unit, so we’ll need Bill’s help to even see him.”
“I wonder how Luthor managed to pull this whole thing off?” Lois mused. “I hope he’ll talk to us.”
“And I suppose, later, that Superman should probably pay him a visit, too,” Clark added thoughtfully. “Explain, precisely and in very clear detail, exactly how strong, how fast, how invulnerable, and how powerful Superman is. And explain why enough is enough.”
She stood up. “Well, there’s no time like the present, flyboy. Want to go see him now?”
“No,” he said with a straight face. “I don’t like the guy and neither does Superman.” He heaved a dramatic sigh and rose to his feet. “But if you insist…”
She laughed. “C’mon, silly,” she said, patting his chest affectionately. “Let’s go call Henderson.”
---
Clark ended up being the one to call Henderson, because when they exited the conference room, Jimmy was waiting with a clarification on some of the information Lois had asked for most recently.
She’d waved Clark on toward their desks. “If you’ll call Henderson, Clark, I’ll see if Jimmy and I can figure this out,” she’d told him.
She and Jimmy had ended up back in the conference room, paging through one of the stacks of documents, looking for the pertinent information. Then she’d gotten sidetracked by one of the documents, so she was startled when Clark spoke suddenly from the doorway.
“Lois, I just got off the phone with Henderson,” he said grimly. “He said he was just getting ready to call us.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” It obviously wasn’t good news. “Did Luthor escape?” That would be a nightmare.
He shook his head. “Worse than that, Lois. Luthor’s been killed.”
Both Lois and Jimmy gaped at him.
“*Killed*? How? When?” Lois demanded.
“Whoa – really? What happened?” Jimmy asked.
“Apparently, one of the guys Luthor set up to take a fall decided to get even with him. There was an altercation in the mess hall yesterday evening, and when the guards managed to break up the fight, Luthor was found with his throat cut.”
It didn’t seem possible. The man had been the most powerful criminal in Metropolis; surely he’d have been considered untouchable in prison? With the resources he undoubtedly still had available, he could still wield power in the form of promised monetary rewards to those who carried out his orders, couldn’t he? And didn’t the prison system isolate some prisoners for their own safety? Hadn’t he been isolated, then?
Maybe it was a hoax. Maybe it was part of some sort of escape scam. “Are we sure it’s really him?” she asked.
“I asked Henderson that,” Clark replied. “He said there’s no doubt whatsoever. He said he saw the body this morning – that’s why he hadn’t called us with the news.”
“Why do you guys need Lex Luthor?” Jimmy asked curiously. “A follow-up story?”
At this point, the fewer people who knew about these apparent tests of Superman, the better. Including Jimmy, and for that matter, Perry and Bill Henderson, too. They – she and Clark – could tell the others when they had more concrete information.
“Yeah, you could say that,” she answered Jimmy. “And it’s thrown a wrench in the works, so we’ve got a lot more work to do, Jimmy.”
He took the hint cheerfully. “Okay. I’ve got a bunch more stuff to look up for Jenner, so I’ll go work on that.” He grinned at them. “Whistle if you need me,” he said, and exited the conference room on their chuckles.
When the door had closed behind him, Lois looked at Clark. “Then who…” she began slowly. If Luthor was dead, who was testing Superman? “If not him, who, Clark?”
“I don’t know. Maybe…” He paused, thinking. “It could still be Luthor, Lois. He had to have planned this out over time, and obviously, other people actually carried out his plans for him.”
She nodded. “That makes sense. We still need to track down who actually carried out each of the tests, but I imagine they’ll eventually lead us back to Luthor. At least we know that the tests…” She stopped.
Clark gave her a half smile. “At least we know the tests will stop.”
“Yeah. That’s what I was going to say, but…” She hesitated. “Well, he deserved the jail time, but I would never…” She stopped again.
“But you would never have wished him dead? I know that, Lois. I remember Princess Elizabeth’s story.” He grinned at her. “You – we – don’t kill the dragons. We jes’…”
She began to laugh. “Yeah.”
---
To be continued
