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The Prankster's Revenge part 3
by Tank

Lois was at her desk early the next morning pouring over the information she had managed to put together the day before. She hadn't slept well, and her body protested every movement she made, but that didn't matter. She had to find Clark before it was too late.

Before the fight she had only been able to check out two of the addresses she had come up with. One had been a large unit that had been converted and sold off as condos, and the other turned out to now be an empty lot. That left twenty one more locations to check out. Of course, if Griffin had moved Clark like he had said he would, all her work will have been for nothing. She shook her head, an action she immediately regretted when a sharp stab of pain lanced through her skull. It was no time to question herself. This was her only chance to find him, so she had to have it right.

It was a testament to how early she had come into the office when Perry White stepped off the elevator. He spied her as soon as he hit the bullpen floor, and made a beeline toward his number one reporter.

"Lois, what are you doing here, darlin'. Even if you didn’t stay in the hospital like you should have, you should be home in bed."

She looked up at him; a wan smile touched her lips. "I've got too much to do, Chief... and no, I can't tell you what. You just have to trust me." She noticed the look of concern in her editor's eyes. "I'll be okay, Perry. I'm a bit beat-up, but I've been worse."

His eyebrow rose. "Oh, really? When might that have been?"

"You know... back ... whenever. It doesn't matter. I've got to go." She gathered up her notes and shoved them in her briefcase. "I'll be back in time for Griffin's next interview."

She was grateful that Perry didn't try to stop her.

"Do you want Jimmy to come along to help you?" She was going to shake her head, but changed her mind.

"No." She began to move up the ramp.

"Lois?" She stopped and looked back at him. "Do you know where Clark is?"

"Yes, no... I mean... I'll fill you in later. I've got to go." In a couple of heartbeats she'd cleared the ramp and was at the elevator pushing the call button. Fortunately, the elevator came quickly and she was in the safety of the small conveyance before he could ask another question she couldn't answer.

*******************************

Clark had a headache, but then that wasn't unusual. A headache, along with the muscle pain and nausea, were to be expected under the circumstances. The level of kryptonite exposure had somehow been lessened. He wasn't sure how they controlled it, but Griffin's men had the ability to control the level of the exposure that he received. Normally, exposure to kryptonite for this long would have already ended in his death, but he wasn't dead yet. He was sick, and extremely weak, but he was alive.

Sometimes he slipped into short periods of unconsciousness, and sometimes he just fell asleep. He wasn't sure what long term effect this long a period of exposure would have on him. He might not get his powers back for a long time... or ever. That, of course, assumed that he'd ever get out of the cage.

Working in his favor was the fact the Superman wasn't the main target of The Prankster's revenge. Griffin wanted to punish Lois Lane. Superman was merely the means to coerce Lois into doing his bidding. It was possible that once Griffin had finished his degradation of Lois that he might let Superman go because he really didn't care. But the man was a pathological criminal; why would he pass up the chance to become famous as the man who engineered Superman's death.

Clark clenched his fists in impotent rage. He pounded them on the floor. He'd never felt so helpless in his life. It tore at his very being. He was living his worse nightmare. Lois was in danger and he was powerless to do anything about it.

The really sad thing was; even if he were able to escape the cage, he was so weak that he had no chance to over power the fellow who was left behind to watch over him. Not only had he been exposed to kryptonite for days, but he hadn't been able to get any sunlight, nor had his captors bothered to feed him.

Still, for all the misery he'd had to endure these past few days, his greatest pain was what he felt for Lois' situation. Any physical torture he'd had to undergo was trivial compared to what he experienced watching Lois take that beating at the hands of Tiger Bennett the night before, and the fear that continually ate away at him imagining what might be next for her.

Clark noticed that his jailer had just entered the room and sat in the one comfortable chair that had been placed there. He picked up the remote and turned toward Superman, a big grin on his face.

"Hey Supes, it's time for the Bill Doyle show. I bet you can't wait to hear what the boss has in store for your girlfriend this time."

Clark tried to glare at the man, but knew that he was currently hardly an imposing figure. The button was pushed and the screen came to life. Clark didn't want to watch. He didn't want to hear what evil Griffin had planned for Lois, but he couldn't turn away.

Whatever was to happen, he shouldn't be spared the horror. It was his fault.

**********************

Lois had only managed to check out two more locations on her list before she had to return to the Planet. Both had turned out to be sites of new construction. Apparently the old buildings had been torn down. At this rate it would be nearly two weeks before she'd be able to cover all her possibles. And that didn't even take into consideration the possibility that Griffin's men might have moved Su- , Clark.

She had to shake her head. It was going to be hard getting used to the fact that Clark was actually Superman. Or, more likely, that Superman was actually Clark. The more she thought about it, the more obvious it was to her that Clark was the 'real' person, and Superman was some sort of public persona. His overly formal manner and stilted speech patterns were clearly part of the disguise. Clark was naturally out going and friendly. His easy manner and charm were too much a part of him to be an act. Still, while it was true that the two sides of the man seemed quite different, she should have seen through it.

Then there was the fact that she'd been to the Kent farm and had seen pictures of Clark as a boy, growing up. She almost giggled when she remembered the one Martha had shown her, just to embarrass Clark. He looked so cute on that bearskin rug; wearing that big smile and literally nothing else. Of course, he was just a baby, but he was still cute.

A frown marred Lois' features. If Clark had been here as a baby and had, essentially, grown up on this planet; why hadn't she heard of Superman before last year? That was something she was going to have to ask her secretive partner when all this was over.

Her musings were shattered by the sudden juxtaposition of sound in the newsroom. All the background chatter had stopped and the volume on the television had been turned up. She looked up to see the title roll for Bill Doyle's segment on LNN. She took a deep breath. This was it. The third trial that Griffin was going to force on her. She couldn't imagine what it was going to be, she only knew that she wasn't going to like it.

The musical fanfare seemed particularly ominous to her as it blared forth, then the shot centered on Bill Doyle and his smarmy manner as he played to the anticipatory mood that he knew gripped his audience. He leaned toward the camera, affecting the faux intimacy that was his trade mark. Lois had never paid much attention to the man's program in the past, and watching it the past couple of days, she guessed she hadn't missed much. He was a poser, and not a particularly bright one at that. He seemed oblivious to the fact that Griffin had been playing him from the start.

No, Bill Doyle might be clueless as to the way things were, but obviously his producer wasn't. That person knew what made good TV, and right now The Prankster was ratings dynamite.

"Good afternoon Metropolis, I'm Bill Doyle. Today we are continuing with our conversations with the notorious criminal mastermind, Kyle Griffin; aka, The Prankster."

"Oh, Bill, you're going to turn my head."

"So, Prankster, the past couple of days, you've been focused on your enmity for Daily Planet reporter, Lois Lane, and have put her through two pretty intense situations. Yet, against all common sense she participated in your scenarios, apparently of her own free will. Tell us Prankster, what kind of hold do you have over Ms. Lane?"

"Are you saying, Bill, that Ms Lane doesn't just find my challenges... stimulating?"

"We both know that's not true. You've repeatedly told us how much you hate Lois Lane, and are doing these things to get your share of vengeance on her."

"So, what's your question?"

"Why is she going along with this?"

"You'd have to ask her?"

"But she's not talking, either."

"I guess you have your answer then... next question?"

Doyle seemed somewhat flummoxed, but quickly regained his composure. "Okay, then, what's next for the Planet's intrepid reporter? Or are you done with her now?"

Griffin's smile was positively evil. "Almost. I just have one more little task for her."

"And what might that be?"

"I want Lois Lane to arrange her own execution."

"What!"

Bill Doyle's surprised exclamation was echoed by several people in the Planet newsroom, including Lois herself. She stared at the screen, transfixed by the audacity, and sheer arrogance of the statement. Was he serious?

"Are you serious?" Doyle asked.

"Deadly serious."

"But it's preposterous. Lane is never going to agree to that."

Griffin shrugged. "Oh, I think she might." He leaned forward and stared straight into the camera. "What do you say, Lois. How far are you really willing to go?"

"But, but that's murder. Surely you can't expect her to be a willing participant to her own murder?"

"Actually, Billy boy, it's more like suicide." Griffin held up his hand to forestall any further outburst from Doyle. "Now I realize this isn't something that will be easy to throw together. I'm sure there are going to be some legal and political hassles that will need to be dealt with. So, generously, I'm going to allow Lois 48 hours to make this happen."

"Make what happen, exactly." Doyle spit out, angry that he'd been cut off.

Griffin smiled. "Here are the details which our intrepid Ms. Lane must arrange. First, it's to be a firing squad execution, held in Centennial Park no later than six p.m. the day after tomorrow. At that time my representative will arrive with the proper papers for Ms. Lane to sign and then her squad will be provided with the rifles that will be used for the execution." Griffin smirked at the camera. "After all, I wouldn't want Lois to try and pull a fast one on me by using blanks for some such thing. The last little detail will be the make up of her execution squad. It will consist of three individuals, hand picked by me." His smile became feral. "And I choose; Perry White, James Olsen, and Clark Kent."

There were several loud gasps through out the newsroom. Perry's bellow boomed through the bullpen.

"If he thinks I'm going to shoot my best reporter on his say so, then that man is loonier than I ever thought he was."

Jimmy rushed over to Lois. "Yeah, don't you worry, Lois, there is no way they can make me shoot you. And believe me when I say there is nothing that could make CK harm you in any way."

Lois glanced back up at the screen, but during the commotion they had signed off Doyle's interview and were back in studio with the shocked reactions. She ignored the television and turned to her friends.

"I know neither one of you would willingly ever hurt me." Her lips formed into a hard line. "But I might have to ask you to do it all the same." She grabbed her notes and moved up the ramp. "I've got to go. I'll check back in tomorrow."

"But, Lois..." Perry's words bounced off the closing door of the elevator.

**************************

Lois slammed the door to her apartment closed behind her and threw her coat and briefcase in the general direction of the kitchen table. She stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. She dropped her head into her hands. She couldn't do this. It was hopeless. Superman was going to die because she couldn't find him.

She fell back against the cushions of the couch. She'd managed to check out three more addresses, but there were still so many left to check. She just didn't have the time. She was at her wit's end. She couldn't do this alone, but she couldn't confide in anyone. And now there was no time. She had less than forty eight hours to find and free Clark, or suffer the consequences.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks. What if she was wrong? What if they really had moved him, and she was following an impotent lead. It was very possible that none of the locations she'd targeted were where they were holding Clark.

Was it going to come down to her only choice was to trust Griffin's word that he'd release Superman once she'd fulfilled his demand? It wasn't the most pleasant of thoughts, but it might just come down to that. If it did, could she do it?

She glanced up and noticed the light on her answering machine was blinking. She rose from the couch, dreading going through the countless messages from the various media and news types that she was sure were there.

As expected, her machine was full and all but one were from reporters and media news outlets wanting to know what she was planning to do. The one that wasn't was from Martha Kent. It was a simple message. She merely said... 'call me'.

Lois looked at her watch. It was late, but not too late. It would be an hour earlier in Smallville. Quickly locating the number, she dialed. It only rang twice.

"Hello?"

"Martha, its Lois, I got your message."

There was a pause at the other end for a few heartbeats. "Lois Lane, don't you dare."

"I take it you and Jonathan saw the Bill Doyle interview today."

"Yes we did, and I may have only met you a couple of times, Lois, but between what I've observed and what Clark has told me, you might actually be considering this."

"Believe me, it's not my first choice by any means, but it might just come down to that."

"It would kill him, honey."

Lois could feel the tears falling again. "They will kill him if I don't." Lois grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. "Look, Martha, I think it's possible that I'm being watched, and I have to be somewhat circumspect in what I say or do just on the chance that Griffin's goons are keeping tabs on me. But I can say that I hope it won't come down to my having to play The Prankster's sick game. It's just that time is short and I haven't had much luck so far."

The voice at the other end of the line was quiet for a few seconds. "So, this Prankster fellow has Superman?"

"Yeah, he does."

"What will you do if time runs out?"

"The world needs a Superman a lot more than it does another nosy reporter." Lois could hear soft sobs coming through the line. "Good night, Martha; and thank you for your concern."

Lois set the headset into its cradle and stared at the wall for several seconds. A determined look came over her face. She wiped away the drying tears with the back of her hand. It was time to stop feeling sorry for herself, and instead, figure a way out of this mess.

So far, she'd placed all her hopes on one plan; on finding Superman before Griffin's deadline. That wasn't going to be enough. She had to start making some contingency plans and she was going to need help. She couldn't pull this off alone.

She thought about telling Perry, but rejected the idea. She couldn't risk Perry's reactions to what was happening not looking genuine. If she was being watched she didn't want anything Perry did or said be a possible tip off that he knew.

She walked over to her windows and glanced out at the coming night. She had to find a way to talk to Henderson... alone.

*****************************

Clark carefully extended his arm between the bars of the cage and managed to get his hand into the sunlight. His portable cell had been placed in a far corner of the main room, far away from any windows. But during the early morning a ray of sunshine would slip between the haphazardly drawn curtains and paint a bright yellow stripe across the carpet a couple of feet in front of the cage.

His jailer always slept late, so Clark had used the time of not being under direct observation to take advantage of the brief access to sunlight. He had to be very careful not to touch the bars. He had grabbed them immediately upon his incarceration to his instant regret. It was like grabbing hold of fire. A burning pain had flared through his hands and coursed through his entire body. It was a lesson he wasn't soon to forget.

By being extremely careful he could stretch through the bars enough to allow his hand to reach the patch of sunlight in front of his cage. It would only last for about a half an hour, until the sun moved enough to take the ray of light beyond his reach. It wasn't much, but it was like a crust of bread to a starving man.

The cage was actually a marvel of technology. Griffin had somehow gotten the cage, or the plans for it, from one of Luthor's associates. Clark guessed that St. John might have found it ironic selling a kryptonite cage to 'The Prankster'. With Luthor's resources and access to the scientific and engineering know how, it wasn't surprising that it was much more than just a cage.

Somehow Luthor's scientists had figured out a way to coat the ordinary metal bars with an amalgam of lead and kryptonite. This coating was acted upon by some sort of current or other means which allowed a person to control the intensity of the kryptonite exposure. The stupid cage even had a remote control. And he couldn't forget the actual piece of kryptonite that one of the thugs kept with him at all times.

He used that fact, and the knowledge that Griffin needed to keep him alive to his advantage. Clark was very weak, and very sick, but he had been playing it like he was even more adversely affected by the kryptonite radiation than he was. Their selfish concerns for his well-being lead to their turning down the intensity which allowed him a small measure of relief. He'd been doing this for a more than a day now and he was able to think a little more clearly and make small movements within the cage without the agonizing pain.

The pain was not gone; far from it. His head still pounded, and his muscles burned and constricted with every movement, but it wasn't completely debilitating. He was no where near a state where he could try to escape, but if he was able to continue to trick them into lower the intensity even more, he might get there. They had to be careful because they needed him alive to act as leverage against Lois.

The thought of Lois immediately plunged him into a deeper depression. He'd watched the interview and was shocked by Griffin's announcement. Did he seriously think that Lois would willingly allow her own execution? There was no doubt in Clark's mind that Lois would do just that to save Superman's life. But how would an amoral criminal, whose only thoughts would be self-serving, come to that conclusion? Was it just an attempt at psychological torture?

Clark knew that beneath Lois' determined no-nonsense public façade was a woman who was fiercely loyal to her friends and routinely risked her life for 'what was right'. Lois was truly more heroic than Superman. She didn't have the advantage of super powers and invulnerability, yet that never stopped her from continually putting her life on the line in her own pursuit of truth and justice. In her mind, when measuring the needs of society, how could she not consider trading herself for Superman?

How could he stop her?

The small patch of sunlight had moved to the point where Clark no longer could keep his hand in it so he carefully pulled his arm back into the cage. He was just in time because moments later, his jailer came walking into the room.

"Hey, Supie, old boy, I see you're awake." The fellow gave him a smirk. "I'd offer you some breakfast, but you don't need to eat, do you." His laugh was more of a snort. "Well, I do need to eat, and I’m hungry, so I think I'll just step into the kitchen for a nice morning meal. Feel free to just... lie there." He stopped after a couple of steps. "So, do you think that Lane will stand up in front of a hail of bullets to save her big hero?" His laughter echoed off the walls as he left the room.

His words grated against Clark, like cold water on an exposed nerve. Knowing that he couldn't count on Lois to do the smart thing, he had to pin his hopes on Perry and Jimmy. There was no way they would agree to act as members of her execution squad. Especially since it appeared that there was no public knowledge as to why Lois had been going along with Griffin's crazy pronouncements. Also, the fact that Clark Kent wasn't going to be available could also be a deal breaker. He had to believe that his friends would come through and save Lois from her own nobility since there was nothing he could do himself.

He felt so helpless.