Author’s note by Aromassa:
Originally this story was written in response to the Guess the Author thread. It was sent via email on Sunday, but seems to have been lost in the ethers of the web and never reached its destination. Twice.
But I think this story should be posted anyway.
Unfortunately, Lexy was sick in bed at the time of this posting so she couldn’t add her own comments. But I will say that the larger portion of this story is hers.
The Butcher
A Co-Authored story by Aromassa and Lexy
Superman was performing his nightly patrol over the rougher side of Hobbs Bay when he first heard the boy’s terrified screams. He sped towards the sound.
“Please, Andy, please!” he heard the boy pleading. His voice was trembling with tears and stark terror. “I promise I’ll never call you Randy Andy again! I swear! I’ll even call you Mr. Morgan from now on! Just let me go!”
Superman was close enough by now to use his telescopic vision to zoom in and see the boy being held down by a man who was wielding one deadly looking butcher’s knife.
“Oh no,” the man replied in an eerily calm voice. “You’ve been a *bad* boy, Ricky. And you know what happens to bad boys, don’t you?” The maniacal gleam in his eyes and the sadistic twist to his mouth was more than enough to encourage Superman to move in faster.
“No, no, no, non, non no,” the boy pleaded, repeating the word until it had lost all coherence.
“They get punished.”
The knife plunged; Superman plunged; the boy screamed.
Superman snatched the boy just as the knife penetrated his skin. He felt the boy go limp in his arms and knew a moment of panic before he realized that he could still hear the boy’s heartbeat.
Superman sped towards the nearest hospital, but not before he heard the man shouting after him: “I’ll get you for this, Superman! I’ll make you regret this, if it’s the last thing I ever do!”
***
Andy Morgan. AKA The Butcher. The man’s name struck fear into the hearts of men, women, and children all across the city. Or at least it would if the general public knew what his name was. But The Butcher was smart. Usually. The victim was always given a little something in their drink before he started on his harvest. And they were always alone.
He killed indiscriminately. Young, old. Male, female. Rich, poor. Gay, straight. It didn’t matter. No one was safe. Once he had you, out would come his favored weapon: the butcher’s knife. And not even Superman could catch him.
Clark’s death grip on the arms of the hospital chair tightened sharply, and the wood snapped like twigs. Several heads snapped his way, and he smiled ruefully. He was just lucky that he was wearing the suit. Explaining how Clark Kent could have broken the chair like that would have been an exercise in creativity. ‘They just don't make chairs like they used to.’ ‘Must be termites.’ ‘Huh ... mice.’
“Superman?” a woman wearing a white coat, and walking briskly towards him, called.
“Yes?” he answered, practically jumping out of the chair, which gave its last breath and promptly collapsed into a heap of firewood. Clark looked down at the chair with a sigh. “Sorry.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right, Superman,” the nurse replied soothingly. “This Butcher fellow has the entire staff on tenterhooks. I can’t expect you to be any different.”
“Thank you,” Clark said with relief. “So, how is he, Carol?”
“Oh, he’s still out cold from the anesthetic, but Ricky will be fine.”
“Thank God,” Clark breathed. “I was afraid ... All that blood...”
“Yes, he’s a very lucky young man,” Carol continued. “The Butcher didn’t hit any organs when he was ... Well, the boy will have a scar on his abdomen, but thanks to you, Ricky didn’t lose that much blood.”
“Can I see him?”
“Certainly, Superman. Certainly,” she answered. “Just follow me.”
Clark followed the nurse towards the children’s ward. Opening one of the doors, he found Ricky sleeping peacefully in a room of his own. The poor boy was barely ten years old. And his parents didn’t even know where he was.
The young doctor who was tending to Ricky looked up as the nurse led Superman into the room. “It’s, uh ... a good thing you were there, Superman,” he said awkwardly. His green eyes darted to the door as an older and more experienced looking doctor entered the room. He then cleared his throat and straightened, trying to be more professional, Clark guessed. “But I must ask you to leave. It’s time to change his dressings.” Definitely trying to be more professional, judging by the sudden snooty tone Clark detected.
“*Why* are there other people in this room?” the older doctor demanded in an insulting tone, seeming to have only just noticed that Superman and the nurse were there. “This is not an amusement park where you can gawk at everything. We have work to do. Get them out, boy!” Clark felt his fists forming before the young doctor started to move him out of the room.
“Yes, Dr. Roberts.” The boy stumbled over his feet in his rush to get out of the room, and the nurse was right on his heels. Clark was incensed. All he wanted to do was to check and see if Ricky was all right!
“I *am* sorry about this, Superman,” the young doctor apologized as they moved towards the waiting area. “That was old Dr. Roberts. You can see Ricky after he’s finished. We’ve learnt to steer clear of him and his razor tongue. Even the nurses stay away from him, and they put up with many kinds.”
“Damn straight,” the nurse agreed. “Poor Tim here has to put up with him all day. Don’t you, Tim?”
“Mo-om! What did I...?” the young doctor flushed.
“Sorry, *Doctor*,” Carol said, grinning. “By the way, son, won’t old Roberts be looking for you right about...”
“Boy?! Get in here!!” Dr. Roberts’ loud voice penetrated the corridors.
“...now?” she finished, amused.
Tim flushed harder and scampered off like a schoolboy in trouble while she laughed.
***
Clark entered the newsroom the next morning deep in thought. He was so engrossed in his concern for Ricky that he barely even glanced at Lois before he sat down at his desk. A situation that she immediately scrambled to rectify.
“That’s a fine way to greet your fiancé,” she pouted, sneaking up behind him and pulling his head back so that she could reach his lips and give him a proper greeting. There were worse ways to be greeted in the morning, Clark thought as he savored the kiss.
“Good morning, Lois,” Clark said guiltily as she released his head and promptly made her way onto his lap. This was nice, but once the computer had finished starting up (which should be some time the next hour) it would make typing up a story a little interesting.
“Oh, he notices me at last,” Lois feigned shock. “I’m so honored. What are you in such a hurry for, anyway?”
“I know who The Butcher is,” Clark stated in a matter-of-fact manner. Lois’ face lit up immediately, although Clark secretly wondered whether it was because of the potential front-page story, or that they’d put a stop to a bad guy.
“Ooh, you have video?” Lois asked brightly.
“No,” Clark said in resignation.
“Pictures?” Her smile shrank a little.
“No.”
“Not even files?” She was looking upset now.
“Well, no ... but...”
“Clark, we can’t print the story without evidence!” Lois lectured in a tone that reminded Clark of when she had thought of him as a Hack from Nowheresville.
“What about the boy in the hospital with blood all over him?” Clark asked defensively.
“You have an eye-witness?” Lois looked hopeful.
“Well, he’s not awake yet ... they told me this morning, actually they told *Superman*...” Clark was horrified to find he’d started to babble. He’d obviously spent too much time with Lois. He blinked as Lois jumped to her feet.
“Up,” she ordered, pulling on Clark’s arm. “We have to get evidence, now move!” Clark followed Lois to the elevator just as Jimmy stepped out of it.
“Hey, guys,” he greeted them with a charming smile. His smile changed to one of fear as Lois lunged at his camera (“Thanks for the loan,”) pulling it off him almost savagely. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere,” Lois answered quickly as she rushed into the lift, the camera now around *her* neck.
“Good luck. I’m not going there again. Nowhere is dangerous,” Jimmy muttered to himself.
“Jimmy, can you find everything you can about a guy named Andy Morgan? He should match this drawing. And can you call us as soon as you find anything?” Clark asked, taking a sheet of paper from his pocket and handing it to Jimmy before racing into the lift himself, where Lois was waiting not-so-patiently for him.
The doors closed before Jimmy even had a chance to say, “Sure, no problem.”
***
Barely ten minutes later, Superman was landing, back at the scene of the crime. “Okay, what are we looking for?” Lois asked before her feet had even touched the ground.
“Anything that would prove that Andy Morgan was here,” he answered, before spinning back into Clark. “A piece of his clothing, the butcher’s knife, a signed confession...”
“Cute,” she answered, mirroring his smirk. Then her attention was caught by something slightly to his left. “What about that?” She pointed at a pile of broken glass and an off-white stain on a nearby crate.
“That could be anything, Lois,” Clark answered, x-raying the fragments as he spoke. “It looks like someone just dropped their drink here.”
“Exactly!” she exclaimed, as if that actually meant something.
“I’m sorry, I think I missed a turn...” he said, looking back at her in confusion.
“Look, Clark, you’re forgetting the main ingredient to the Butcher’s MO. You never hear his victims, correct?”
“Well, usually no...”
“And why don’t you usually hear them?”
“Because they’ve...” His face cleared as he finally caught on to her meaning. “...been drugged beforehand.”
“Probably by putting something into the victim’s drink,” she finished pointedly.
“So, you think...”
“I think Ricky is one of those kids who *don’t* drink their milk when they’re told.”
“And the Butcher got angry and tried to kill him anyway?”
“Yes.”
“All right then,” Clark said, spinning back into the suit. “I’ll just take this to STAR Labs for analysis. See if they can find out what’s in that liquid. Be back in a minute.”
They shared a quick kiss before he took off. Lois had barely lost sight of him before her cell phone rang. “Yes, Jimmy,” she answered, not even bothering to check the caller ID. “You found him? ... A *barber’s* shop? ... Okay, just a minute.” She took her trusty notepad and pen from her bag and leaned against one of the other crates which littered the area. “What’s the address?”
***
“This is *so* cliché!” Lois complained for the second time in the last two minutes. They were standing in the middle of a shopping mall, out the front of a barber shop. “Right back to the dark ages!”
“Uh, Lois?” Clark tentatively massaged her shoulders in a bid to calm her down. “Standing here and waving your arms about might get them suspicious.” He was pleased to see that his massage had taken the tension out of her shoulders. Her breathing unfortunately hadn’t slowed, actually it seemed to have increased, and her cheeks had gained a rosy exterior. Deciding that the massage wasn’t working, Clark removed his hands, and her cheeks returned to the normal color.
“Okay, you distract him while I sneak into the back to find evidence,” Lois ordered briskly, back to business.
“Why can’t *you* distract him?” Clark immediately argued as they slowly made their way to the storefront. “I can search faster then you can, and I can defend myself if he comes in better.”
“Don’t make it sound like I’m completely defenseless,” Lois retorted in an insulted tone. “It’s a *barber* shop, where *men* get a shave and haircut. Seen as I’m a *woman*...”
“Okay, okay,” Clark consented in a wounded voice. “You don’t have to beat it into the ground.”
“Good, then we’re settled,” Lois said brightly. Clark sighed in resignation; it wasn’t *his* fault he worried about her. She was the world to him! Besides, *she* worried about *him* didn’t she? And there was much less cause to do so.
Clark walked in to see a line of men on the courtesy lounges, and a lone barber on a customer. He felt a slight movement to his left and saw Lois cock her head in the barber’s direction. He sighed and walked up to the barber.
“Hello, there.” Clark started the ball rolling. The barber looked up in irritation. “Where is all your staff? You seem a bit busy to be here alone.”
“I have no staff,” the barber answered snidely. “Andy Morgan works alone, no one else can do it right.”
“Uh...” Clark watched as the man leaned back over his customer.
“I can vouch for that,” one of the waiting customers commented. Clark moved to the customer in curiosity.
“Really?”
“Oh, yes,” the young man agreed excitedly. “I’ve always had a problem with my neck hair. No one’s ever been able, or bothered to get rid of it all. Andy always gets all of it off, every strand. He’s an artist in his trade, I’ll tell you now.”
Clark suddenly spun around when he heard a door swing open. He was horrified to find Andy had left, and through to the back. He started moving to the back door, even though he couldn’t hear anything to warrant worry. Hearing footsteps, he jumped to the side of the frame just in time for the door to swing open, blocking him from view.
“I must ask you all to leave,” Clark heard Andy’s voice say tonelessly. “I have a personal matter to attend to, I’m afraid. I have to shut for today.” There were a few complaints, and even a little whining (the young man Clark had just talked to, no doubt) but they all left. Clark snuck a peek to see Andy close all the storefront blinds.
“How about you explain to me why you were looking through my things, young lady?” Andy asked as he turned from the windows. Two silhouettes then moved into the room, one obviously being dragged.
“Uh-I was trying to write you a note,” Lois’ voice explained quickly. “You were busy, and ... my employer wanted me back as soon as possible. I-I was looking for a pen...”
“A pen,” Andy asked, crossing his arms disbelievingly. “And just what did your *employer* want?”
“Uh, to merge,” Lois muttered pathetically.
“Merge?!” Andy asked as if she’d just said something unforgivable.
“Okay, well, I’ll just tell them no, shall I?” Lois tried again to get out of the tight grip on her. Andy picked up one of the razors on the counter and shook his head slowly. That was enough, Clark thought.
He checked that the coast was clear before starting to spin to change, but something was wrong. His clothes disappeared awfully quickly, well, quicker then usual. He then realized that he wasn’t stopping! Something was very wrong indeed.
***
Lois was distracted from staring at the razor by the sudden appearance of a mini tornado spiraling out from behind a door. Her eyes widened in shock. That tornado could be no one other than Superman. And it wasn’t stopping. What was Clark thinking?
Her eyes widened even further, if that was possible, when a man entered the shop wielding a glowing red crystal. Terrific, she thought.
“Works like a charm, doesn’t it?” the newcomer asked. Lois was further shocked when she was suddenly released, and the man who had been holding her took out a gun, and aimed it at the tornado.
He fired; the tornado disappeared; a pained Superman lay on the floor.
“No!” Lois cried. The bullet was clearly seen through the seat of his pants. It glowed with an ominous green.
“Owww,” Superman complained in a small voice.
“Bull’s eye!” the man with the red crystal cheered. His cheer was short-lived, however.
“Shut up,” Andy hissed from where he was looking through a crack in the curtains. “We’re attracting a crowd. We won’t be able to do it here.”
“Do what?” he asked, confused.
The man who had shot Clark brandished his razor.
“Oh, that,” he answered with a smile.
Lois gulped. This was not good. And Clark seemed to have been reduced to a trembling puddle on the floor.
***
Clark finally awoke to a small cell-like room with little air and even less light. He groaned as he shifted onto a particularly painful area of his posterior. Frantic arms were suddenly all around him and his mouth was full of hair. Choking a bit, he realized that Lois must be in the room with him.
“Oh, thank God,” he heard her cry. “I don’t know how long it will be before those men come back.” Thankfully, she lifted her face from his chest so that she could look at him, and he breathed in a glorious mouthful of fresh, well, fresher, air.
“Where are we?” he asked, painfully trying to get to his feet.
“I don’t know,” she answered, standing beside him. “But now that you’re awake, we’re not gonna stay here much longer.” With that, she reached a hand into her pocket and flourished ... a strange looking tool.
“What is that?” he asked, confused.
“My lock pick,” she answered with a smirk, before heading over to the door.
“Isn’t that illegal?” he asked, unable to help himself.
“Oh, and breaking and entering isn’t, I suppose,” she answered, rolling her eyes. She turned back to her work, her tongue sticking out with the effort to keep quiet at the same time. Something Clark found absolutely adorable.
He was brought out of his examining her adorableness by the tiny click from the door, indicating their potential freedom. She sent him a triumphant look before slowly turning the handle and pulling the door open excruciatingly slow. Clark ducked his head out to check, seeing no one they tiptoed their way to the front door.
They started to open the door, with the same excruciating slowness. This was it! They were out! They were going to make it! The door was almost half-way when the large bell sitting on the top of the door slid off the door, ringing loudly through the shop.
“Hey!” a voice called from in the shop. They didn’t wait; they didn’t even learn who it was. They just started running.
Luckily for them it was the Christmas season and the mall was a throng of people. This made them almost invisible; the only problem being the Superman suit’s bright colors.
“You’re going to have to change,” Lois commented as they squeezed past a large family of children chucking tantrums at the unfairness of their world, even as their parents were buying the shop out for them. Clark looked back to see one of the men weaving towards them.
“You may have a point,” he conceded. “But where am I going to fit in while *finding* the clothes?”
“How should I know?” Lois asked in agitation. She suddenly paused and a smile appeared. “I have it! Come on, this way!” She dragged him through the crowd, her eyes trained on a certain shop in the distance. A place where his Superman suit would fit in? Where on earth would she find a place like...?
Clark realized that they had stopped. He looked up at the store window to see ... costumes. Lois was a genius! Lois smiled at him in triumph and they quickly raced into the shop.
“We’ll have to separate,” Clark reasoned as they moved into the store. “They’re looking for me anyway. If they catch me, you can get help.”
“No,” Lois immediately argued. “If they catch you, they’ll kill you! We’ll have to work together. We can hand over the evidence, *and* the culprits at the same time. Just as soon as we get that bullet out of your...”
“You have evidence?” Clark asked incredulously. Lois smugly pulled out a fraction of what looked like a folder from the inside of her jacket.
“Enough to get all of them behind...” Clark blinked when she stopped talking and froze, her eyes staring towards the entry. Clark turned to investigate. The first thing to meet Clark’s eyes was Andy Morgan arguing with the green kryptonite guy.
Clark exchanged a worried look with Lois before ducking into the nearest coat-rack on his right. He looked up to see Lois had jumped to the left. She sent him an annoyed look, but he smiled. At least she was a little safer now. He ducked even further when the door creaked open.
“What are you *doing*?” Andy’s voice traveled in anger. “You’re supposed to be keeping an eye on those two ... friends of ours.” Clark looked up to find that he had ended up in the women’s section of the shop. Oh great.
“I was,” the man replied in a pained voice. “They were heading in this direction...” Clark saw Lois notice *her* mistake of ending up in the men’s section. Clark could see the rolling eyes from where he crouched, hidden.
“*This* direction?!” Andy bellowed in disbelief. “You were supposed to stop them from going *anywhere*! What are you, stupid?” Seeing that their pursuers seemed pre-occupied, Clark pulled up one of the pant-legs of one of the bright purple tights in the rack above his head, and sent a questioning look in Lois’ direction.
“Who are you calling stupid, stupid?” the man defended himself, however immaturely. Lois screwed her face up and started to examine the surrounding rack. Clark crawled slowly to the next rack.
“What are you, in high school?” Andy sneered in contempt. Lois held up a ripped pair of punk-looking jeans, studs and all. Clark shook his head and lifted up a checked skirt, used by Irish dancers.
“This is *exactly* what I was talking about,” the green kryptonite guy interrupted. “Just because you can stick a knife into some drugged-up person, doesn’t make you the one in charge. I *am* the one who got Superman down, you know!” Clark noticed a bend further away from their pursuers where the two sections almost touched. Catching Lois’ eye, he nodded into that direction.
“You wouldn’t have got him down if it wasn’t for me,” the red kryptonite guy argued strongly. Clark started to move on his hands and knees, ignoring the shooting pains in his ... posterior, and weave towards the bend. He saw the racks twitch on the other side, showing that Lois was on the move.
“Oh, like *you* could have done any better?” the green kryptonite guy challenged in a deadly tone. He was at the bend, he was at the bend! Where was Lois? He chanced a glance at the arguing pursuers, just in time for them to turn in his direction. He ducked back again like a startled rabbit.
“Shut up, you two idiots!” Andy’s voice commanded. “They were coming in this direction. They are smart, I’ll give them that. Where else would a Superman suit not attract attention, but a costume shop? Search the place, they might be here.” Clark turned as the clothes on the rack two centimeters in front of him opened to reveal a disheveled Lois.
“That’s what I was trying to do,” the red kryptonite guy complained. “And then you were jumping all over me and calling me ‘stupid’.” Lois shrugged her shoulders at Clark questioningly.
“Swap with me,” Clark whispered so as not to be overheard. “We have to find a disguise.”
“You *are* stupid,” Andy retorted angrily. “Only an idiot would let them get away. He doesn’t even have his *powers*, for Christ’s sake!”
“They’ll see,” Lois whispered the obvious observation. “Just find something for me quickly, and meet me at the fitting rooms.” She nodded her head in the direction Clark had already sent them. Clark saw combined men’s and women’s fitting rooms, and you could get to either side through one door, that was behind a wall. How had he ever met a woman this smart?
“Oh, yeah?” the red kryptonite guy came back insultingly. “Who’s the bigger idiot who put the idiot in that position in the first place?” Clark turned back to see Lois had already moved off. Probably not a bad idea, they were going to hunt this place out, and fast.
“He’s got a point, you know,” the green kryptonite guy commented. Clark grabbed the pants from the rack above his head, and moved slowly and painfully towards the fitting rooms.
“Shut up, you,” Andy sneered. Clark came across a table of what looked like white t-shirts. Being in a hurry, he grabbed her size, and ducked back to the floor before they could see.
“Don’t poke me!” the green kryptonite guy bellowed angrily. Clark being too busy checking that they hadn’t seen him and not watching where he was going, hadn’t seen the fitting room wall until it was too late.
“Oomph!” he exclaimed in surprise, rubbing his head at the small bump he was sure was going to turn up any second. Luckily for him, the pursuers were too occupied to have heard him.
“Hey!” Andy glared and poked the green kryptonite guy again. The fitting room connecting door suddenly opened right in front of Clark, crushing his nose in the process.
“Oww,” he breathed in pain, barely audible. It *must* have been heard by Lois though, because her head appeared around the door, looking at Clark rubbing his nose pathetically.
“Try hard!” the green kryptonite guy yelled insultingly, poking Andy.
“Sorry!” Lois barely breathed the apology in horror. Clark swallowed a groan and crawled around the door into the room where Lois hugged him quickly.
“Who are *you* calling a try hard? *You’re* the one that can’t get it through his thick head that *I’m* the one in charge!” Andy retorted arrogantly before shoving the green kryptonite guy.
“Lois, if *ever* I complain about wanting to be normal again,” Clark whispered in a pained voice. “Just remind me of what happened *today*. Being normal is painful.” Lois smirked.
“Oh yeah?” the green kryptonite guy asked, shoving Andy.
“No pain, no gain,” Lois quipped as she handed him the load of heavy clothing she’d gotten for him.
“Yeah,” Andy sneered, pushing the green kryptonite guy harder.
“But I don’t like pain, it hurts me,” Clark whined in a pitiful tone, handing her *his* selection. Lois rolled her eyes and raced into one of the fitting rooms. Clark followed suit (forgive the pun).
***
Lois came out of the fitting room in disgust. What had Clark been thinking?! She chanced another glance in the wall mirror and shuddered. A pair of ripped, punk jeans was bad enough, but that wasn’t the big problem. The fact that he hadn’t even picked up a pair of shoes for her wasn’t even an issue, although the high heels looked a little out-of-place.
Seeing that Clark wasn’t out yet, she went to investigate, drawing a strange look from the fitting room attendant at her crouched position. She looked down as she landed on something soft, and red.
“Clark?” she asked softly at the door with a red cape sticking out underneath. “Aren’t you finished yet?” There was a crashing sound from outside and some yelling. Looks like the shoving had progressed a little.
“Try getting out of a one-piece lycra suit and see how fast *you* change,” Clark’s voice complained softly followed by a grunt.
“Take that back!” one of the pursuers voices traveled to them as more crashing erupted.
Lois started when a slight bang came from the door at her left ear. She looked at the gap at the bottom of the door to see Clark’s red cheeks.
“What happened?” Lois couldn’t help asking.
“I fell over,” Clark answered in an ‘isn’t it obvious?’ tone.
Lois rolled her eyes and crawled under the gap into Clark’s cubicle. “All right, where’s the zipper?”
“It’s under the cape,” he answered, wondering how on earth she knew that there was a zipper in the first place. She lifted the cape so that it fell over his head, and deftly unzipped the spandex. Then she started pulling it off his muscular shoulders and down his tight torso and it was suddenly getting very hot in that confined space.
“I think you can handle it from here,” she said, trying to hide her flaming red cheeks as she crawled back out. The fitting room attendant was gaping at her. “What? He couldn’t reach the zipper!” The gape turned into a smirk. Her cheeks must have still been glowing.
This was the unfortunate time when Andy was thrown almost into the room. Lois immediately ducked into one of the empty cubicles, thanking her lucky stars that he just growled and went racing back out into the store. The fitting room attendant shook her head as he left, then turned to Lois with a sympathetic smile.
“Your Dad?” she asked as Lois peeked out of the curtain. “Trying to get away from him, are you? That’s *so* romantic! Just like ‘Romeo and Juliet!’” The fitting room attendant sighed.
“Uh, right,” Lois seized her interpretation with a firm grip, finishing with a wry grin. “Is it that obvious? Listen, could you help us? We need to get out of here.”
“Not a problem, dearie,” the fitting room attendant looked positively delighted. “You’ve done *most* of it yourself. There *is* a little extra you could...” Lois watched the attendant leave, muttering to herself.
“Did you *have* to get such heavy clothes?” Clark’s voice complained behind her. She spun around; her eyes immediately alight with injustice.
“Me?!” she pointed to her chest angrily. “What about you?” Clark’s eyes moved to her chest, and the words printed there.
they’re real and they’re
SPECTACULAR
Clark swallowed in guilt. “Uh ... sorry, Lois,” Clark apologized, his puppy-dog eyes coming to the surface. Damn him. Why did he always have to do that, just when she thought she could stay mad at him! She then found herself captivated by this new outfit.
“Stop staring, Lois,” Clark said as if she were acting weirdly. Which was just ridiculous, she *always* stared at him, maybe when he wasn’t watching … but still! He certainly made those black leather pants look good, his rippling muscles just visible under his black, tight t-shirt and the large black coat gave him a mysterious air with the black shoes finishing the look that could almost be described as dangerous. Not right now, though. Scratching his head in embarrassment kind of ruined the effect.
“Here we are, dearie,” the fitting room attendant suddenly came bustling in, interrupting Lois’ scrutiny of Clark’s clothes and carrying something hairy in her hands. Lois blinked as the woman started to shove the thing onto her head. “Your Dad won’t recognize you like this.”
Lois turned, looked past Clark’s shocked face, and saw herself in mirror once again. The attendant was right. Lois hardly even recognized *herself* under the long strawberry blonde waves that now cascaded down her back attractively. Now it was Clark’s turn to stare.
“And if you want to get out of here, now would be a good time,” the fitting room attendant informed them, shoving a shorter blonde wig onto Clark’s head as another loud crash penetrated the room and a shot was fired.
TBC
