Continuation of the story started in Flashbacks. This one contains a bit more plot than my last one.
Man, I can't believe thoughts take so much space and time to express in words.
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So this is the thing called pain. Such a strange, unfamiliar sensation. Oh, he had read descriptions of it, had imagined in his mind what it must feel like, but he was still surprised at the reality of it. Perhaps hunger and illness felt like this too? But what was it that had created this new feeling? Ah yes, there had been a loud bang. As quickly as his first remembrance came, the rest of his memories tumbled together...
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Suddenly, the classroom door burst open to reveal two masked gunmen. "All right, nobody move! Everyone up against that wall!" shouted the one wearing a black leather jacket.
A couple of students began to scream, but quickly cut themselves off at Leather Jacket's menacing stare. Jonathan froze. <Oh my god, this is really happening> he realized, as he numbly rose from his seat to cluster against the wall along with all of the other students and Mr. Bartlett, the teacher.
"And don't even think about yelling for Superman - *anyone* who says *anything* will get it! And don't think that we don't mean business!" said the second man, who was taller than Leather Jacket but just as thin.
<Better not test that theory, this could be trouble if they're serious> thought Jonathan as he began to evaluate his emergency options. <Let's see what they're up to first>
Tall Guy unpacked what looked like a large bomb out of the duffel bag that the two had brought in, while Leather Jacket reached for the phone on Mr. Bartlett's desk.
"Police? Yeah, here's the deal. We've got a classroom full of kids held hostage, and we want ten million dollars and safe passage to the country of our choice. If our demands are not met, we'll blow the room to smithereens along with everyone in it. If we even *suspect* that Superman is around, we'll detonate the bomb. Oh - and just to show you that we mean business, we're going to shoot one student every five minutes, starting...oh, say, five minutes from now." Jonathan focused his hearing, and could make out the person on the other end start a cry of protest at the last sentence, but immediately after saying his last word, Leather Jacket hung up the phone.
Muffled whisperings of fear circulated among the hostages, for Leather Jacket had intentionally spoken into the phone so that everyone in the room could hear what he was saying.
<Crap, he sounds serious> thought Jonathan. <Ok, we have 5 minutes...think!> Quickly, Jonathan X-rayed the bomb. Aha! Just an empty box. Ok, when Dad shows up, he'll be able to see that from above the building. But the police don't know to contact him - and even if they did, they probably wouldn't want to risk it given that they don't know that the bomb is a dud. So it was highly unlikely that Dad would learn of the situation within 5 minutes.
Jonathan took a sharp intake of breath as the full implications of his logic hit him. <It's up to me to make sure that nobody dies here today> His unconsciously hunched his shoulders, as if they were physically burdened by the weight of the responsibility that had suddenly been thrust upon them. <If I fail, people will die. And even if I succeed, the secret that my father worked so hard to protect could be lost> But he couldn't stand back and do nothing - not while it might be in his power to help. <No, I can't buy our secret, not when the price is measured in human blood>
His mind now resolute on a course of action, Jonathan took stock of his superpower options. Now that he had convinced himself that physical confrontation was the right thing to do, he was free to single-mindedly focus his entire mind on that task.
What would Dad do? Catch all of the bullets before they hit anyone. Could he do that, too? Theoretically, using his super speed, he would be able to move his hands fast enough to catch bullets. But my brain isn't "super" yet - gotta think about this. He remembered from watching track during the Olympics on TV with his Dad that human nerve impulses take 0.1 seconds to travel to the brain. <Mine are probably about the same> Would that be fast enough? Everyone in Metropolis knew that Superman was faster than a speeding bullet - after all, speeding bullets could go at most 1500 meters per second. <But I have a delay of 0.1 seconds, so if the gunmen are at a distance of 150 meters or greater...crap.>
Ok, so that wouldn't work. With a start Jonathan realized that he wasn't even sure that he was even strong enough to get hit by bullets and survive. <Ok, how can I stop those guns from being fired?> Super-strength? He could use his strength to throw tables at the gunmen. But that would probably kill them, and Jonathan was trying to make sure that *nobody* at all died. Besides, whoever he threw a table at, the other gunman could still get some shots off, and if they missed Jonathan and hit somebody else...
Super speed to grab the guns? If he ran really, really fast...but no, without a super brain, his surroundings would pass faster than he could react to. It would be like driving a car at 1500 meters per second...he'd crash into one of the gunmen, crashing them both into the wall before he even thought to apply the brakes - a collision at super speed. No, given his human reaction time, he'd never be able to control his movements at super speed.
Heat vision? Since the two men were standing apart from each other, he could only heat up one of the guns at a time. Since it took a few moments to heat up a gun, the other gunman would be able to shoot him. But at least he would be shooting at him, and not somebody else...
But that got back to the other problem. If the guns were to be fired, since he was the only one who even *might* be able to take bullets, he had to eliminate the possibility of missed shots going past him to hit somebody else. So, he would have to be standing away from the other students. He had to assume the worst case - that the bullets would kill him. If he died before disarming *both* of the gunmen, he'd have made the situation even worse, as the remaining gunman would take it out on the rest of the hostages.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to Jonathan. They were only carrying handguns! He quickly x-rayed the chambers of both guns. They both contained only 6 shots! <OK, I'll use my heat vision on Leather Jacket's gun. As the barrel starts to melt, Tall guy will notice, will almost certainly panic, and start unloading on me. Leather Jacket's gun will be unusable by the time the bullets hit me. Tall guy doesn't know any better than I do what it will take to bring me down, so he'll be firing as fast as he can. 6 bullets will be gone in about 2 seconds - it'll take him longer than that to be 100% sure that I'm dead.>
Just as his plan was worked out, Jonathan was snapped out of his reverie by Leather Jacket. "All right, it's been five minutes! You there, you're first!" he said, pointing at the nearest student. She immediately began crying hysterically.
"No, shoot me first!" Jonathan lept to his feet as he shouted. He knew that this was his only chance to make it so that nobody was near the line of fire. Come on, this had to work.
As fast as he could he whispered to the other hostages, "6 bullets each. I'll take one guy, get the other after he's empty." Ignoring the incredulous stares and gasps of the other hostages, Jonathan kept talking in an attempt to keep the gunmen off guard.
"I'm going to walk over there to that other wall and then you can shoot me." Before the gunman could say anything, Jonathan had walked to the adjoining wall.
Caught off guard by Jonathan's sudden insane insubordination, Leather Jacket sputtered, "What the-? You wanna be a hero, kid? Fine!" as he raised his gun.
As Jonathan stared into the barrel of the gun, aiming his heat vision at the opening so that any bullets fired while the gun was melting would also be melted, he thought about how much his family would be affected as a consequence of his actions, whether he survived or not. When the world found out that Superman was really Clark Kent...
Would his father still be able to continue leading a normal life as a reporter? Would his mother become known only as "Superman's wife"? Would Grandma and Grandpa be hounded by the ravenous press in their old age? Would Dad be able to get a green card?
Suddenly, Jonathan realized something of more immediate importance. There was no guarantee that Tall guy would realize that it was him causing Leather Jacket's gun to melt...heat was invisible. So, as he shot the beams of heat at the barrel of the gun that would soon make it glow red, he yelled the most obvious, ostentatious thing that he could think of in the instant before he put his strength to the test against Tall guy's bullets.
"Super Jonathan Heat Vision!!!!"
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Clark grimaced as he replayed what he had just been told over the phone in his mind. "Mr. Kent, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but there was a shooting at your son's high school - but before you say anything, he'll be OK - Emergency Medical Services were already on their way to the school 5 minutes before the shooting started, and he's already here at Metropolis General. Uh, before you say anything, um, there's something that you should know...uh, well, now keep in mind that your son is OK when you listen to what I'm about to tell you next, uh, which is, well, er, um this is really awkward...but anywaysyoursonsufferedgunshotwoundsthatwouldbefat
altomostpeoplebuthe'sreallystrongandImeanreallyre
allystrongyoucouldalmostsaysuperhumanlystrongandd
oyouunderstandwhatI'mtryingtotell youhere?
<Oh, Jonathan, I am *so* sorry that you had to be the one to do that> Clark knew that he would give just about *anything* to remove that burden from his son's shoulders. What he must be feeling and going through right now...
But what was done was done, and nothing could change the fact that it had been his son - his only son, that had had to deal with the undeserved guilt that he was no doubt feeling at having to take drastic actions during what surely must have been an impossible, lose-lose situation, instead of himself. It was all his fault.
But, Clark Kent would do the best with what he had - that's what he did. And although he could live with Superman having a reputation as a seducer, he couldn't stand the thought of Lois, *his* Lois, being called a - no, he shouldn't even *think* about anyone calling her that.
"Clark, we have to go see Jonathan!" Lois hissed, interrupting his thoughts.
Clark bowed his head and nodded his silent assent. He looked his wife in the eyes. "I know, honey, but there's something that I have to deal with first - something that I should have done myself before it was forced onto Jonathan."
Seeing Lois's confused expression, Clark acted without explaining, knowing that his actions would make everything clear. The sooner he did this, the better, before the horrible, totally unjustified, news and rumors about his beloved wife became too ingrained in the public consciousness.
"Everybody, there's something you should all know." Clark spoke loudly and clearly, in his best "Superman" voice. Instantly, everybody in the newsroom stopped what they were doing and all eyes focused on the owner of the strangely powerful and commanding voice.
"Our son has just been hospitalized, and Lois and I are leaving the office to see him." At Clark's words, gasps of sympathy came from all present, but sympathy was immediately supplanted by awe at the sights and sounds that followed.
Clark followed up his simple statement by spinning into the suit in the center of the newsroom, with all eyes transfixed on him, creating a whirlwind of primary colors with accompanied by a sonic boom. Ignoring everyone else's stunned, speechless looks to face Lois's regretful but determined one, Clark scooped Lois into his arms and flew out the window with no further ado or fanfare, leaving their colleagues in stunned silence.
Finally, it was Jimmy Olsen who broke the spell. "Uh...Chief - what do we do now?" he asked tentatively.
The sound of a human voice seemed to help break Perry White, the editor of the Daily Planet, out of his reverie. Regaining a little bit of his composure, he said in a shell-shocked voice, "Well...I guess we do what Kent just asked us to do..." Suddenly something that he was thinking seemed to revitalize him completely.
"Hey! Now what's everyone standing around for!? You're all supposed to be writing a newspaper, not having a staring contest! There's a story to get out there! I want copy! Today's headline for the afternoon edition: 'Superman Is Clark Kent - And We're Sure This Time'!"
The hustle and bustle of the myriad of journalists immediately resumed its normal course as the gears and wheels of one of the nation's finest print institutions began turning. After all, there was a paper to write.
<to be continued in <insert title here>>
