Clark held Lois gently in his arms as they danced to the music. He looked around at the people milling around the spread of delicious food. Mike Lane beamed with happiness as the guests exclaimed over the food. The song finished and he reluctantly released Lois and they walked towards the buffet table. Lois hugged her uncle.
“They're all asking about your restaurant. You got a lucky break, getting asked to cater the Urban Redevelopment Charity Ball, Uncle Mike.”
“Well, it's pretty amazing how fast things are turning around. In just two days it’s like a whole new neighborhood. No more gangs, no more slow cops, thanks to those articles you two wrote,” he answered.
“The credit probably goes to Mayson’s new strike force,” Clark commented.
“Intergang seems to have decided to fade into the background for a while. Guess that’s another big story we’ll have to put on hold, partner, “ Lois said, lightly punching his arm.
Mike smiled at them, “Why don’t you two get back to dancing? I’m sure you’d rather do that than talk to an old geezer like me. And, Lois? I have that chocolate torte you wanted set aside for you. I included lots of raspberry sauce.”
“Mmm,” Lois said as she walked back to the dance floor holding Clark’s hand. “I love chocolate.”
Clark pulled her into his arms, looking down at her. “And I love. . . raspberry.” His arms tightened around her, as he struggled to keep himself in check. He wanted to kiss her senseless right there in the middle of the dance floor. To tell her he was Superman and declare his love in front of all Metropolis. He sighed and instead said, “Since Superman took out Intergang’s targeting system, the threat to your life is over.”
“So you’ll be going back to your apartment?” Lois was now staring at his chest, hiding her face from his view.
“Yes.”
“I’ll miss you.”
Why was this so hard? Shouldn’t love be easy? Boy meets girl. They fall in love. They get married. No lies, no secret identities to keep them apart.
“Lois, Clark,” Perry drawled next to them.
“Chief!” Clark responded.
“Just wanted to let you know that Stern Publishing’s purchase of the Planet has finally been completed. Everyone gets to keep their jobs. Now he has some ideas for modernization that I’m going to have to hash out with him. What exactly does that mean anyway, modernizing?”
“Perry that’s wonderful!” Lois pulled out of his arms to quickly hug her boss.
“That’s great news, Chief,” Clark clapped Perry on the back.
“Well, keep it under your hat for now. We’re going to make the big announcement at the Planet’s 80th Anniversary Celebration.”
“What celebration?” asked Lois.
“Oh, Stern wants to really emphasize the Planet’s history in Metropolis. We’re going to be running old articles from the archives and we’re going to get some photo shoots done for billboards. In fact, his PR people will probably be giving you a call pretty soon. As the Planet’s top reporting team, they’ll want you guys in the ads. You’ll have to wear clothes from the early 1900’s. I even know somebody with a vintage Ford for us to use in the background. It’s actually a really neat campaign. The kick-off will be a party next week in the newsroom.”
*****
PR called them the next morning to schedule the photo shoot. Lois complained that “these people” just didn’t understand that newsworthy events didn’t work themselves around schedules, but after Perry assured her that photo shoots could be scheduled around stories on the local dog show, she contented herself with just glaring at whoever happened to be around. PR was wasting no time. Both Clark and Lois had appointments to be fitted for costumes and be made up in a look befitting the 1930’s theme. Clark was very nervous that his similarity to Superman might be noticed, but in the middle of all the hair wax and makeup, everyone seemed too busy to notice. He did breathe a sigh of relief when they handed him a pair of black rimmed glasses to complete his look. Without them and with his hair slicked back, he wasn’t sure that Lois could fail to notice he was Superman. He was standing in the studio exclaiming over the 1930’s four-door sedan with one of the photographers when Lois arrived. His breath caught. The tailored suit flattered her figure. Having the hair rolled back from her face accentuated her long, very kiss-able, neck.
“Wow, Lois.”
Lois rolled her eyes. “This old thing?” and then they both laughed at her joke.
“You would have been a knockout back then too.”
“You look pretty handsome yourself, though I prefer your regular tousled look to this waxed down one.” Her hand brushed over his hair. “And they kept your glasses.”
“Guess they wanted to make sure Metropolis still recognized me. So, are you ready for this?”
She gave him a wry look. “Let’s get it over with.”
They were photographed in the car with a fan blowing to make it look as if the car were moving, leaning against it with their arms crossed, pretending to take notes with the car in the background, and on it went. Finally the photographers announced they were finished and invited them to take a look at the films. Clark was very impressed. “I’d say we’re a very photogenic couple, Lois. These are going to be great PR for the Planet.”
Lois wrinkled her nose, “I’m just not that thrilled about seeing myself larger than life on a billboard.”
“Well, get ready,” put in the photographer. “They’re going up as soon as these shots are edited and printed and they’ve put a rush on it. You could be seeing yourself as early as tomorrow morning.”
Lois groaned. Clark and the photographer chuckled.
“Lois, lets get these costumes back where they belong and catch a late lunch. Then we’ll head back to the Planet and start work on the L. . . on that story we’ve been holding off on and don’t need to anymore.” He didn’t want to say anything specific in front of the photographer.
“That sounds great, Clark.” She turned to face the photographer. “Thank you. They *are* beautiful pictures.” She turned and headed to the dressing rooms. Clark did the same.
*****
“So, where are we going to start with Luthor?” Lois asked Clark.
“I think we should start with the Planet bombing and go from there. We have the evidence we need for that story. Possibly once people see it, people will be more willing to talk. Or they’ll start scrambling to cover up and we’ll catch them that way. We’ll have Jimmy help us set up a surveillance program on stock trading and see if we find anything being hastily dumped.”
“Good idea, Clark. I still want to get a more comprehensive list between Intergang and Luthor holdings as well. I’ll get Jimmy on that as well. This is going to be big, Clark!” she cheered excitedly.
*****
They worked all day on the story. Finally her growling stomach interrupted them and Clark offered to go and get some dinner. He flew to Maine and picked up some fresh shrimp, lobster, and crab for them. Lois' moan of delight at her first bite was reward in itself.
He needed to tell her. It was time. Putting it off would only continue to keep them apart, and the longer he was dishonest with her the madder- or more hurt, which was even worse!- she was going to be.
“Lois, I was wondering if you would like to go to Smallville this weekend.”
Her eyebrows raised at the change in topic from the one they had been discussing all afternoon, but she agreed, “I’d love to, Clark.”
“There are some things I need to tell you, talk about, and there are just too many interruptions here.”
“Okay, Clark. I’ll see if Perry will let us off. Once we turn in this story, he should be happy to let us have a day or two off.
“Good!” Clark sighed in relief. “So, Friday after work, then?”
“I’ll be ready to go. Do you want to rent a car or take the Jeep?”
“Let’s save wear on your Jeep and rent something. I’ll take care of it.”
And, they could leave a rental car with a sister company in the Smallville area, and he could fly her home if all went well. Or if it didn’t, his heart sank, she could drive it back to Metropolis alone.
*****
Sure enough, by noon the next day they were displayed in living color on several billboards in Metropolis and in the pages of the Daily Planet. Their coworkers exclaimed over the pictures and were very complimentary. Lois and Clark were both embarrassed, but they were pleased that the ads were such a hit. Franklin Stern had sent them both a gift basket with his thanks. Perry called them into his office to extend his thanks and let them know how pleased Mr. Stern was.
“If you think that’s good, just look what we have for tomorrow’s edition!” Lois handed him a copy of the story they had finalized this morning.
“LUTHOR LINKED TO DAILY PLANET BOMBING”
Perry’s chair snapped forward. “Lois, Clark?”
Lois smiled happily. Clark was enjoying watching her as much as his editor’s amazement.
“You guys have proof? Legal will be all over this.”
“Yes. A statement from a board member. We spoke with the man who was paid to plant the bomb. Jack was killed in the bombing and Clark and I are not about to let him continue to take the blame. Now that Luthor no longer owns the Planet, this can go to print.”
“Luthor’s PR people will demand a retraction. And you both may be personally sued for slander.”
“We don’t care, Chief. The public deserves to know the truth. Luthor is slime, and we’re going to prove it. This is just the first step. We’re counting on this to send some of the cockroaches scurrying and Lois and I will be there to find out what they are running from.”
Perry shook his head. “I never liked Luthor. But I can hardly believe that he tried to destroy the Planet. This is great! I can’t wait for more. Stern is going to love this. He and Luthor have a little rivalry going on and this will make his day.”
“So, now is the time I should try to negotiate for some time off?” Lois asked
Perry laughed. “When?”
“Clark and I want to go visit his folks this weekend. We’ll be back for work on Monday.”
“That’s fine. You guys deserve it. You know PR is calling you guys the hottest team in town. I think they’re already looking at another ad campaign.”
“Oh, no,” Lois groaned.
*****
Perry was curiously absent when they arrived at work the next day. Clark and Lois had arrived in the lobby at the same time, so they rode the elevator up to the newsroom together. Cheers greeted them when the other reporters caught sight of them. Everyone was thrilled to have Jack’s name cleared. But where was Perry? And Jimmy? Clark had expected them to be leading the fray.
*****
It was almost noon when Perry and Jimmy, looking a bit disheveled, arrived. “Lois! Clark! In my office!” Perry bellowed. Immediately on their feet, they arrived at his doorway just as Perry collapsed into his chair.
“What's up?” Lois questioned.
“You're not going to believe what happened to us this morning! We were almost killed, but I was able to save us,” Jimmy shared excitedly.
“What?!” Clark exclaimed. Certainly he would have heard something if his two friends had been in danger.
“The boy's leaving out a few details, but bottom line is we were car-jacked,” Perry began to explain.
“Are you all right?” Lois asked worriedly. They both knew that Perry suffered from high blood pressure.
“Yeah, we're fine,” Perry assured her. “But they got away with that vintage Ford we were using to promote the celebration.”
“Let me tell you how I saved us!” Jimmy broke in. “Picture this! We were locked in the garage-”
“Jimmy! Go slap some cold water on your face,” Perry ordered.
“But-” Jimmy protested.
“Go. Now,” Perry said in a voice that brooked no argument.
Jimmy moved to obey, but he shared with Clark as he passed by, “I'll tell you about it later.”
Clark nodded, clapping Jimmy on the shoulder, then turning to Perry as Jimmy exited the room. “Did you get a good look at them?”
“Sure. I gave the police a detailed description. And then they looked at me like I had three heads.”
“Why?” Clark asked, baffled.
“ 'Cause I told them I'd been car-jacked by Bonnie and Clyde.”
Lois broke in, “Chief, Bonnie and Clyde died over eighty years ago!”
Perry gave her a look of frustration, “I know that, Lois. The car was taken, not my senses. But these two were dead ringers for them. They did quite a job. Make-up, costumes, the whole shebang.”
“Do you remember anything specific about the costumes?” As she spoke, Clark looked at Lois with question in his eyes. What was she thinking?
“Lois, I'm not real big on fashion accessories. Especially when there's a gun pointed at me,” Perry huffed.
Lois hurried to explain, “It's just that there was this call on the police scanner last week. A man in a brown felt fedora and alligator spats held up a private gun collector. He got away with an arsenal of antique weapons. Tommy guns, Colt forty five automatics... There could be a connection.” The great mind of Lois Lane-Kent at work, Clark marveled.
“See what you can dig up. That car was a piece of this paper's history. It belonged to one of our great publishers. And more important... it's not insured, “ Perry said in a confidential tone.
“We’re on it, Chief,” Lois assured him.
*****
“Oh, my word! Lois, look at this!” Lois hurried to Clark’s desk. “I decided to look up Bonnie and Clyde on the internet to see if there were any good pictures and I found that when the Barrow Gang escaped Joplin, Missouri they left behind a roll of film. The pictures were published in the Joplin Globe. I logged into their archives to check out the pictures. You won’t believe this!” He pushed back his chair so that she could get a good look at his screen.
“Clark! These look almost like. . .” Lois grabbed a copy of this morning’s Planet and opened it to their ad. “Clark, the resemblance is uncanny!” The Joplin Globe pictures showed Bonnie and Clyde with a four-door sedan of the exact style that had been used in their photo shoot. The captions pointed out that they had covered the license plates with hats and coats when they had taken the pictures so that the vehicle could not be identified.
“It’s a sad story really, Lois. Bonnie was 4’10” and only weighed about 85 pounds. She married at 16, but her husband landed in jail a year later. Bonnie and Clyde met when Clyde was visiting a friend’s sister who had broken her arm. Bonnie was also visiting. It was love at first sight. Clyde had already started down the road of a life of crime. This was during the Great Depression and many carried a great deal of anger and resentment toward the government and the men who were employed to enforce the law.
“Clyde was arrested in Waco and Bonnie supplied the gun that enabled Clyde and another prisoner to escape. However, they were captured again and sentence to a hellhole of a prison. Clyde convinced a fellow prisoner on work detail with him to let his ax slip cutting off two of Clyde’s toes, which along with his mother’s efforts earned him an early parole. Thus began their life together as criminals. Their resentment toward the government intensified and they were not alone. Many of the public admired Bonnie and Clyde as much as they feared them.
“Most reports say that Bonnie never fired a gun. Some report that she carried a machine gun, but they almost had to be romanticized versions of the story. A machine gun of that day weighed about 25 pounds, almost a third of Bonnie’s weight. The burden of Clyde’s crimes, which came to include murder, weighed on him. If caught, there was no doubt that the electric chair would be his fate. He developed an amazing ability to slip past police and roadblocks set up to capture him. It was his superior driving that kept them from being captured. Whenever cornered, Clyde would come up fighting. Requests for surrender were met with a flurry of bullets. Clyde wanted to stay alive and free, and Bonnie just wanted to be with the man she loved.
“The Barrow Gang made a circuit skirting the edges of five Midwest states because the law at that time forbade lawmen from continuing to follow a suspect into another state. It was this circuit that finally got them caught. During a raid on a prison to break one of their gang out of jail, a guard was shot.
“It seemed to be the breaking point for frustrated lawmen. They were determined that Bonnie and Clyde would pay for their crimes. They hired Frank Hamer to track the duo and bring them to justice. Hamer discovered the gang’s circle pattern. Bonnie and Clyde stole the car that would become their coffin, a 1934 sand-colored Ford V-8 Sedan.”
Entranced with Clark’s story, Lois only whispered, “Oh, Clark.”
“They went to visit their families. They knew the end was coming. Bonnie even begged her mother not to say anything bad about Clyde when they were killed. And their feelings of impending death were not unfounded. One of newer members of their gang, Henry Methvin, along with his father who was seeking a lighter sentence for his son, turned on them and revealed their location to the law. Seeing Henry Methvin’s father’s truck stopped in the road, Clyde slowed down to check for the senior Methvin. No call for surrender was forthcoming. The lawmen had learned the hard way not to give Clyde the chance to escape. Instead the command came to fire. Clyde was killed instantly, a bullet to the head, but Bonnie could be heard screaming. Their bodies were riddled with over fifty bullets. Bonnie had known how it would end, listen to this from a poem that she wrote:”
The Story of Bonnie and Clyde
You’ve read the story of Jesse James
Of how he lived and died
If you’re still in need for something to read
Here’s the story of Bonnie and Clyde.
Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang,
I’m sure you all have read. . .
. . .They don’t think they’re tough or desperate
They know the law always wins
They’ve been shot at before, but they do not ignore
That death is the wages of sin.
Someday they’ll go down together
And they’ll bury them side by side
To few it’ll be grief, to the law a relief
But it’s death for Bonnie and Clyde.
“They weren’t, though, buried side by side. Clyde was buried in the Western Heights Cemetery and Bonnie was buried in Crown Hill Memorial Park, though both cemeteries are in the same town, Dallas, Texas.”
“It’s like a love story gone horribly wrong,” Lois said softly, tears in her eyes.
“It is, but, Lois, each one of the Barrow Gang’s victims had a story too. Someone that they loved that missed them after they were killed. Someone that had to try to cover payrolls and bank loans when their hard earned money had been stolen
“It was a different time then. During the Great Depression, many took on occupations that they might not have otherwise considered in order to provide for themselves and their loved ones. That is no excuse for the crimes they committed, but it is, perhaps, a reason. As he had committed several murders, the fate that met Clyde would have been his either way, yet as an American citizen he was entitled to a fair trial. Bonnie was certainly guilty of several crimes as well, but the only warrant for her was for aiding Clyde in the interstate transportation of a stolen vehicle, which did not carry a death penalty. Bonnie and Clyde deserved to pay for the crimes they committed, but these lawmen did not follow the procedure of the law they swore to uphold. There is no room for this level of aggression in the fight for truth and justice.” It would be like Superman executing every thief, arsonist, or drug dealer he came in contact with. It was a reminder to Clark that Superman was never to be judge, jury, and executioner and that every criminal he turned over to the police had the same right to due process as an innocent man. Innocent until proven guilty.
“The lawmen must have felt they had no other choice. Clyde and Bonnie had made it clear they would never be taken alive.” Looking at the pictures of the car and the hundreds of bullet holes Lois said solemnly, “One thing is for sure, Perry wasn’t car-jacked by these two. Let’s start with look-a-like agencies. Maybe one of them knows of Bonnie and Clyde imitators that could be the true culprits.”
*****
The bell on the door jingled as Lois and Clark entered Sammy’s Look-A-Like Agency. The man Clark assumed was Sammy sat at a shabby desk speaking into the phone on his desk, “That's right... he's a dead ringer for Elvis.” He paused. “Of course before he died.” He waved to Lois and Clark, “Have a seat folks. I'll be right with ya.”
Lois looked at the shabby Naugahyde chairs and then whispered to Clark, “I think I’ll stand.” Clark remained standing as well.
“The name's Sammy,” the man confirmed, hanging up the phone. “So, what can I do for you nice people?”
“I'm Clark Kent and this is my partner, Lois Lane. We're reporters from the Daily Planet.”
“Reporters? Do you want to do a story on my business?” he asked eagerly.
“ Sammy, we were wondering if you represented any Bonnie and Clyde look-a-likes,” Lois asked.
“Bonnie and Clyde.” Sammy scratched his head, thinking. “Nope. Sorry. But, it's funny that you mention them. I had a guy in here a couple of weeks ago looking for gangster costumes.”
Clark’s breath caught in excitement. Finally, a lead! They had visited so many agencies today he had been starting to wonder if they were on the wrong track. “Do you remember his name, or what he looked like?”
“Sure!” Sammy offered helpfully. “I keep a record of all my business transactions.” Then he opened drawer overflowing with papers and began to rummage through it.
Lois rolled her eyes; sure that it was another dead end.
“Here he is. Emil Hamilton. Rented a whole rack of gangster costumes. I don't usually let my costumes go out the door without one of my people inside 'em, but business has been slow lately.”
Lois wrote the name down. “Thank you, Sammy, you’ve been very helpful. If I ever have need of a look-a-like, you’ll be first on my list.”
The ringing of a bank alarm captured Clark’s attention. He pulled down his glasses to look over to the bank and spotted a very familiar antique four door Sedan. His superhearing then picked up a voice, “Take a good look sister. All of you! 'Cause this is the face you're gonna see smiling back at you from your evening paper. This is the face of John H. Dillinger.”
Dillinger! Where were Bonnie and Clyde? “Um, Lois, I need to go feed the parking meter.”
“Sure, Clark. I-” Lois’ jaw dropped as the door of Sammy’s opened to reveal Superman. Clark fled through the open door.
Swiftly making use of an alley to change into Superman, Clark then flew into the bank. Bonnie had just entered. “Hey! What's takin, so long?! I'm getting wrinkles waiting out there!”
Clark’s mind reeled. Bonnie Parker! She looked just like the pictures that he had been looking at only a few hours before of the small but feisty strawberry blonde. He turned to look at the man Bonnie was addressing. Clyde Barrow! Clark shook his head to clear it of the nostalgia and crossed his arms in his classic Superman pose. The man standing by Clyde must be John Dillinger. “Aren't you boys a little late for Halloween?”
Clyde answered sarcastically, “Look who's talking. Who are you supposed to be? Little Boy Blue?”
Clark ignored him. “Put down your guns.” He doubted his request would be heeded. He knew from what he had read that Clyde would rather shoot than be caught. Well, Clyde Barrow was in for a surprise.
“Oh, my. Now he is one hunk of man.” Bonnie’s eyes ran over him, and Clark realized that Superman was flushing red. Clyde must not have appreciated Bonnie’s. . . appreciation. He fired a short burst from the machine gun he held right into Superman’s chest. The bullets ricocheted off his chest into the walls around him.
Clyde looked at the gun in disgust and confusion. “What is this? A cap gun?!”
“You can't hit the broad side of a barn,” Dillinger declared. He reached into his bag.and pulled out a pack of six sticks of dynamite. As he did so, Clark noted a small piece of paper fall to the floor.
Clark took a step toward Dillinger but Clyde grabbed one of the bank customers and placed his gun to his back. “Stay back, pal. I ain't gonna miss from this close.”
Dillinger lit the dynamite and tossed it. The three gangsters released the hostage and made their escape as the customers screamed and began to scatter in search of cover. Clark jumped and landed on the dynamite just as it exploded. Glancing around to confirm that none of the bank customers had been harmed, Clark hurried to rush after the gang. As he was about to clear the doorway, he heard someone groan. He turned to see a guard fall to the floor clutching his chest. Inwardly Clark sighed. It was his duty to get this man to medical care as soon as possible, but he really wanted to chase after Bonnie, Clyde, and John Dillinger. “I’d better get you to the hospital.” He told the gasping guard. He flew as fast as he dared to the nearest hospital and gave the guard over to their care. He rushed back to the bank but by this time there was no sign of the three gangsters. He used the alley to change back into his Clark clothes. Straightening his tie, he entered the bank. Police tape cordoned off the crime scene. Police officers were busy dusting for fingerprints. Lois was interviewing bank customers and taking notes. Clark flashed his press pass to the policeman at the door and entered the bank again.
Lois turned to him, “Clark, while you were putting money in the meter, the bank was robbed by someone posing as John Dillinger.”
“Dillinger?” He bent down to pick up the piece of paper than he had seen fall from Dillinger’s bag. It was a ticket stub.
“Oh, and Bonnie and Clyde put in an encore performance as well.”
“Really?”
Lois caught sight of the ticket stub in his hand. “What's that?”
“A ticket stub from the cineplex. It might be a clue.”
Lois snorted. “A clue? It's a movie ticket stub. Clark, do you know how many people came in here today? It could belong to anyone.”
“It fell out of Dillinger's pocket.”
“What? Let me see that.”
“I... um... saw Superman. On my way back here. He told me what happened.” Clark scurried to cover his slip before Lois noticed that first he had questioned Dillinger’s presence and now he was claiming knowledge that Dillinger had been here. And he hadn’t done a very good job. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice.
“And what does he make of all this?”
“Believe me, Lois, he's as baffled as I am.”
Lois coughed on what sounded suspiciously like a laugh, before she clamped her mouth shut.
“What?” he questioned.
She ignored him. “A ticket stub, huh. So our look-a-like likes to go to old movies. Maybe that’s where these three got their inspiration from.”
As Lois and Clark exited the bank, Jimmy rushed up to them. “Hey, C.K., Lois! I got some information you're gonna love. When Clyde first approached us, he asked Perry for the keys to *his* car. I think he must have seen it in the pictures on the billboards and tracked it to Perry. Turns out that vintage car the Chief borrowed is the same make and model as the car that Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker were gunned down in.” Recalling the pictures, Clark understood when he saw Lois gave a little shudder. “That got me to thinking, so I called the cemeteries where they're buried.”
“You called Dallas?” Lois queried.
“How’d you. . .?” Jimmy shook his head in obvious awe of Lois’ investigative skills. “I know it sounds weird but get this. Both cemetery directors said that a few years ago a scientist had their bodies dug up and took bone and hair samples. Pretty creepy, huh?”
It was gruesome. The couple should be allowed to rest in peace. The only reason he would want either one dug up was to place them together as they should have been. “Did you get the scientist's name?” he asked Jimmy.
“Hamilton.”
“Professor *Emil* Hamilton?”
Jimmy looked at Lois in amazement at her question, “How do you *do* that?”
Lois and Clark exchanged an amused glance. “They don’t call us the hottest team in town for nothing,” Clark teased.
*****
Lois and Clark’s story was the headline of the Daily Planet for the second day in a row- ‘IMPOSTORS MOVE IN ON METROPOLIS.' Clark was at the vending machine getting a bag of chips when Lois arrived. She quickly spotted him and came over. “ I got some information on Hamilton. He's a real science nerd, spends twenty-four hours a day working in his lab. No family, no friends. Every penny he has goes to fund his experiments.
“I'm not surprised. DNA modification is very expensive.”
“DNA modification!?”
Clark pulled the file folder from underneath his arm and handed it to her. “I found an article in the library. Hamilton believed he could restructure DNA and short circuit aggressive behavior. He hoped to eliminate all anti-social impulses in man.”
Lois opened the file and flipped through it, “Did he ever talk about actually bringing criminals back to life?”
“Not directly. But he did say he thought they'd be the best people to experiment on. He even claimed he'd found a way to accelerate the maturation process of the embryos.”
“Really?”
“The article said his theories outraged the scientific community. That's probably why he dropped out of sight.”
Jimmy rushed over waving a fax. “Get a load of this. It just came over on the fax.” He handed the paper to Lois, but didn’t wait for her to read it before rushing on. “The cops got a definite make on the bank robbers. The fingerprints are exact matches with the real John Dillinger, Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow.”
“Lois, let's see if we can get hold of Bobby Bigmouth. If Hamilton has successfully cloned these gangsters he's the person who'd know about it. I just can’t believe that if he had succeeded with cloning that he didn’t announce it to the scientific community.”
“Since his main area of expertise is behavior modification, maybe he wanted to see if he was successful before making any announcements.”
“Maybe Clyde and Dillinger didn’t want to wait.” Clark pushed the button to call the elevator. “Make sure you tell Perry about the fax,” Clark said to Jimmy as the doors opened.
“What about Bonnie?” Lois teased. “Are you a little sweet on her, Clark?” They entered the elevator together.
“I do feel a little sorry for her, Lois. I don’t think she was really a bad person.”
The doors closed and Lois put her arms around him. “You old softy.” She kissed his cheek quickly then stepped back. “First blondes and now red-heads. What am I going to do with you, Clark?”
*****
“Mmmm. That ravioli smells great,” Lois said, hungrily eyeing the bag in Clark’s lap. She reached over to for the bag, but Clark caught her hand.
“Lois, it's for Bobby.”
“He won't know.”
“Oh yeah? Remember what happened that time you picked some of the cheese off his pizza? He got all pouty and wouldn't tell us anything.”
“I still don't know how he knew that cheese was missing. I was very careful not to disturb the pepperoni.”
Clark’s cell phone rang. “Better get that, Clark,” came a voice from the back seat. Lois and Clark both jumped. How had he managed to sneak up on Superman, Clark wondered. Lois was far too much of a distraction!
“What'd you bring me?” Bobby asked as Clark answered his phone.
“A wide variety of culinary delights,” Lois answered him.
Clark finished his conversation and closed his phone. “That was Jimmy. You're not going to believe this. Al Capone paid Perry a visit.”
“What? How many more of these characters are out there?”
“I don't know. But Capone tried to bribe him. Apparently, the Mayor got the same offer. Bobby, what do you know about all this? Who are these people?”
Bobby shoveled some ravioli into his mouth, then closed the container and stuck in into a pocket. “From what I hear, they're an experiment gone bad.”
“A cloning experiment?” questioned Clark.
Bobby shrugged. “Oh, and this regenerated Capone character? Not a big fan of the no smoking laws.”
“What else” Lois urged him.
“For this food?” Bobby asked in disbelief. “That's all you get. You didn't even bring me dessert.”
“Lois?” Clark admonished.
Lois gave an exaggerated sigh, then reached down and pulled a bag from under her seat.
Bobby opened the bag and exclaimed, “Ooooo! Tortes!” He takes a bite.
Lois was watching him jealously. “So, you got the dessert. Now, talk.”
“Okay. There's this guy, runs an illegal gaming club down on Hobs street. Name’s Georgie Hairdo. Capone's thugs have been leaning on him pretty hard.”
“What's Capone's interest in the club?” Clark queried.
“He wants a piece of the action. Like the old days. Word on the street is that there's something going down tonight at the club. That's all I know.” Bobby opened the Jeep’s back door. “I gotta run. Oh, and next time, bring me something to drink. And I don't mean none of that imported water. Something American.”
Lois and Clark watched as he exited the Jeep and disappeared around a corner. “So what is our next move?”
“I think we should visit that club,” Lois said decisively.
*****
“Wow!”
Lois blushed in pleasure as she ran her hands down the red dress. “You like?”
“Very much. I’ll be the envy of every man there tonight.”
“And I will be the envy of every woman.”
Clark looked down at his suit, “Really?”
“Trust me. Did you get a car from the Planet garage?”
“Yes. Ready to go?”
*****
They sat in the car for a few moments watching the patrons enter the club.
“Pretty classy crowd for an illegal gaming club,” Lois commented as two couples decked out in Metropolis’ finest entered the club.
“Isn't that Congressman Haines and his wife?”
Lois snorted. “Nice to know how our taxes are being spent.”
Listening as the couple is allowed entrance, he heard the congressman give the password, “ The fat lady sings”.
After the door closed behind them, Lois unbuckled her seat belt. “Let’s do this.”
He exited the car and held Lois’ door and then closed it once she was standing beside him. “You think they'll let us just walk in?”
“Give me some credit, Clark. I'm smart enough to get around some stupid bouncer.””
Clark grinned to himself. This should be interesting!
Lois knocked on the massive door. The peep hole slid open as we see just a pair of dark eyes stared back.
“ Hi. Um... we have a reservation,” Lois tried.
“We don't take reservations. What's the password?” was the answer from behind the door.
“'Joe sent me,” she tried again.
“Nuh-uh.”
“'The eagle has landed? Swordfish?” she asked hopefully.
“I saw that Marx Brother's movie too, lady. Nice try.”
Clark interrupted, “The fat lady sings. My friend is just kidding you.”
The man behind the door sighed in exasperation and the door opened.
“Ooh, look, Clark! Slot machines!” Lois said falling into her helpless, need a big strong man to protect me role. “Do you have any quarters, sweetums, please?”
Clark laughed. Sweetums. That was a new one. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of quarters. He had come prepared. “I hope I can charge this as an expense to the Planet,” he grumbled passing them to her.
Lois eyes danced with laughter. “Oh, thank you,” she gushed before inserting one of the coins in the nearest machine and pulling back the lever. The machine began to ring and she picked up a handful of quarters from the slot.
“Wow, Clark. I should do this more often. It would double my pay.”
“Just don’t get so caught up you forget we’re here to work.”
“ Just a few more quarters. I just got it warmed up.” But he knew by Lois’ determined look that it would be a while longer before she would be tempted away from the machine.
“I’m going to head over to the bar and see if I can spot any of our gangsters.”
Clark made his way across the room, pausing for a moment to watch a game of craps. As the players consistently lost, Clark pulled down his glasses and x-rayed the dice. Weighted. A puff of his super-breath caused the dice to roll again. A frown crossed the face of the croupier as cheers erupted around the table. Clark smiled as he slid his glasses back onto his nose and continued on to the bar.
“Hey, handsome. How about some company?” A small hand tucked into his arm. He looked down to see Bonnie Parker looking up at him.
“Um, sure.” He led her to the bar, seated her at one of the stools, and took a seat for himself. “ So, uh, do you come here often?” He still could hardly believe that this tiny woman had been half of a notorious gang that had terrorized the Midwest less than a century ago. But he was a professional. He had interviewed criminals before. Even Robert Masello when he was on death row the night before he was to be executed. Perhaps he could manage to get some information from her as to where the gang’s hangout was.
“ I haven't been here in years. I guess you could say I haven't been anywhere in years.” For the first time Clark saw the deep sadness in her eyes.
The bartender made his way over to them. “What would you like to drink?” Clark asked Bonnie.
Bonnie tossed her head as if to shake off her sadness, “Why don't you surprise me?”
Clark turned to the bartender, “White wine for the lady. Club soda for me, thanks.” The bartender nodded and moved to fill his order.
“So, do you come here often?” she asked him.
“No, this is the first time. Do you live nearby?” Perhaps he could get some clue as to where the gang hung out.
Clyde Barrow interrupted them. “Back off, pretty boy. The lady's taken,” he said threateningly.
Clark held up his hands in surrender. “We were just talking. I’m with someone as well.” His eyes found Lois still avidly pulling the lever on the slot machines.
Bonnie’s gaze followed his. “That’s a pretty dress,” she drawled. “Red was. . . is my favorite color, you know.” Clark knew. He shuddered internally remembering the lifeless, bullet ridden body of Bonnie Parker clothed in red.
“You're supposed to be watching the door,” Clyde hissed at Bonnie.
Clark could see Lois was now heading their way, “It was nice to, uh, meet both of you. I have to go.” He laid a few dollars on the bar and moved toward Lois.
She grabbed his arm in excitement. “I just found out Georgie Hair-do's dead.”
“Bonnie and Clyde are here,” he said nodding his head toward the bar. “We've got to call the police. Let's go.”
“Just a second, I want to collect my winnings.” As she turned to do so, the door burst open and Al Capone, Dillinger, and a couple thugs entered, guns cocked and ready for a fight. Dillinger fired a shot into the air to get everyone’s attention. The bouncers reached for their own weapons and were quickly disarmed by Bonnie and Clyde. Clark now realized that Bonnie’s interaction with him had been a cover as she moved into the best position from which to approach the bouncer. Clark felt a hint of disappointment, hoping that this Bonnie Parker would choose a different path, but when push came to shove, Bonnie would stand by her man, no matter what scheme he was pulling.
“My apologies, ladies and gentlemen, for this little interruption,” spoke Al Capone. “I just came by to announce that Georgie Hairdo has wisely decided to retire from the hospitality business. So from now on, this club belongs to Al Capone.”
Perhaps the light caught the sparkles on Lois dress, perhaps she moved just a bit, but she caught John Dillinger’s eye. “Hey Al, how about we name this little cutie our new head hostess?”
Dillinger’s feet carried him across the floor until he stood by Lois. His hand raised to caress Lois’ bare shoulder. “You know, I always was partial to a lady in red.” Lois shrunk from his extended hand leaning into Clark.
Clark grabbed Dillinger’s hand and flung it away from Lois. “Leave her alone.”
“Who are you? Her big brother?” Dillinger placed both hands on Clark’s chest and shoved him, then turned to reach for Lois. Clark immediately stepped between them.
“Clark-” Lois tried to calm him. But before her efforts at peacekeeping could continue, Clyde Barrow leveled his pistol at Clark and fired three times into Clark’s chest. Lois and Bonnie simultaneously cried, “No!” but it was too late.
The world slowed almost to a stop as he felt the slugs impact against his chest. His eyes met Bonnie’s anguished ones. Was she re-living that instant when the bullet plowed into the man who was her whole world? Was the scream that was heard one of pain as the bullets pierced her body or the anguished cry of her lover’s name as his lifeless body slumped against the steering wheel. Lois’ desperate voice came to him then, “No! Clark!”
Right. Clark Kent had just been shot. Three times, at point blank range. Clark Kent should be every bit as dead as Clyde Barrow was when his body followed the curve of the steering wheel to slump against the door of his stolen Ford. Clark’s knees felt weak and he began to collapse even as his conscience began to scream at him, “Clark Kent is dead. Clark Kent is *dead*!” He allowed his body to continue its slow slide to the floor.
“You moron,” Al Capone yelled, clearly unhappy with Clyde. “What did you do that for?”
“Because he got on my nerves,” stated Clyde defiantly.
“Let's get out of here. And take the stiff. I can't afford to be linked to a murder.” Al Capone took a drag on his cigar as he turned toward the door.
“No! Please, don’t take him,” Lois begged. She fell across his body sobbing.
Small but firm hands removed Lois from him. “He’s dead, honey. It’s life.”
Large hands now grabbed him roughly and began to drag him, bump, bump, bump, up the steps and out the door. Just before she would be out of sight, he slitted his eyes open to see Lois kneeling in the middle of the floor with a horrified look on her face.
He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, Bonnie’s words echoed in his head.
Careless hands tossed him in the back seat of the vintage Ford and it roared off into the night.
“Why’d you have to shoot him, Daddy?” Bonnie asked. Clark recalled that was one of Bonnie’s pet names for Clyde.
“What’s with you, Baby? It’s not something we haven’t done a dozen times before.”
“No, Honey, *we* didn’t. It could have been different this time. The law wasn’t after us. We could have had a real life. Got married.”
Clyde laughed. “No, we couldn’t. Because we’d never be considered real people. These bodies are just copies of who we were before.”
“We need to dump the body,” Dillinger’s voice broke in. “Drive toward the wharf and find a convenient alley,” he informed the driver.
There was no more conversation as the car sped on its way. Finally it lost some speed, the door opened, and Clark allowed his body to fall to the pavement and roll into a pile of garbage. The car continued on its way.
He heard nothing but a few rats nearby. He lifted him self and brushed at his suit, his fingers catching on the holes created by the bullets from Clyde’s gun. Clark’s heart was aching as he lifted into the sky, heading towards the only place he could go. Kansas. Dead, dead, dead, Clark Kent is dead. *I’m* dead.
*****
I hope this is a new take on TOGOM, although the story is essentially the same. I'm looking forward to your feedback.
