Chapter 18: A Real Life Hero
A real life hero with dashing handsome looks
--“What Every Woman Lives For”
****
My debut in Metropolis was . . . well, probably not exactly what my parents had expected. And really, it wasn’t entirely what I had intended.
After I started scanning the city for signs of trouble, I got nervous. When I saw a mugger in an alley far below me, I knew I had to do something. But the thought of staying afterwards and talking to the victim terrified me. I would have to explain myself, answer questions . . . . And I just wasn’t ready for that.
And so, I worked quickly enough and carefully enough that my face remained unseen. I bent the mugger’s gun and tied him up with a sign post right before speeding away.
Throughout the night, I responded to some cries for help and assisted with a few accidents. The biggest thing I did, however, was help out in a fire.
The smoke at the fire had been so thick that the victims hadn’t been able to make out my face, and I generally moved fast enough that they wouldn’t be able to see me anyway. But there were enough people around that they had to have seen something, and I had the feeling that the story would make the news. And when it did, the other people I had helped throughout the night would probably come forward, too.
Soon, I would need to show myself fully. But for that night, I let myself just enjoy anonymity . . . and the knowledge that everyone I had tried to save that night lived.
****
The next morning, the newsroom was buzzing.
I wasn’t sure how the news spread so quickly, but it did. Interviews with firefighters and the people I had rescued were splattered all over the TV. I was staring up at the newsroom televisions when I heard Perry White bark, “Lois! Clark! My office now!”
Swallowing nervously, I lifted my eyes to meet Lois’s. She was talking on the phone with a glint in her eye and hung up reluctantly. “Let’s go,” she told me sharply.
The Chief Editor began as soon as we shut the door. “Now, I want you find everything you can only this ‘Red-Blue Blur’ character.”
“Red-Blue Blur?” I echoed.
“That’s what they’re calling him. All they know is that someone has been doing unbelievable things at incredible speeds. No one’s seen his face—just a red and blue blur. Now, I’m not sure if this is a hoax or what, but evidently people are in an uproar about it. Whether this is the Black Knight in some new duds or not, I’m not sure. But you have to admit this is all a little fishy. Why won’t he show his face? Why isn’t he talking to anyone? Does he have something to hide? Disfigurement, maybe? And where are all these powers coming from?”
“Perry, I’ve got this story,” Lois told him.
“Now, Lois, this could be big—you need to work on this with Clark.”
“Lois is right,” I hastened to assure him, not exactly feeling inclined to write about what I had done. “I’m working on a few other things—she can handle it.”
“You can drop those other things,” the Chief Editor stated bluntly. “You two are working on this together, and that’s that. Now, git!”
Lois and I exchanged a look before meekly exiting Perry White’s office.
“As long as we’re working on this together, I might as well come clean,” Lois said grudgingly. “I talked to a few of my sources. Apparently, this Red-Blue Blur might have helped out with a car wreck at a traffic light. There were some drunk teenagers out late who ran a red light and hit someone. Fortunately, no one was killed, though it’s possible we have the Blur to thank for that.”
I barely refrained from grimacing. It had taken all my effort not to stop and give those teenagers a stern talking-to. But they had been hurt, so I had flown their car to the hospital, careful to hide my face and not go too fast. It probably would have been a lot easier for me to simply show my face, but I knew there would be no going back once that happened, and I wanted to make sure I wasn’t regretting my decision to help people the next day. I wasn’t regretting it, as it turned out, but I still had wanted to take the precaution.
Lois picked up her coat, purse, and briefcase, heading for the elevator.
“So, where are we going now?” I asked as I hurried after her.
“To see Henderson. I’ll bet we can convince him to give us a copy of that tape.”
****
Inspector Bill Henderson looked up from his desk as we walked in. “Lane and Kent,” he proclaimed. “I knew it would be simply a matter of time before I saw your two mugs in here.”
“Let’s cut to the chase, Henderson,” Lois said. “Are you going to give us that tape or not?”
“Tape?” he echoed innocently. “Why, what tape would that be?”
“The tape that traffic light recorded last night,” Lois gritted. “The tape with this ‘Red-Blue Blur’ man in it.”
He gave us a crooked smile. “You know, he lives up to his name. All you’ll see when you look at it is a red blue blur—and just a hint of red boots and a red cape. The guy moves too fast, and the angle isn’t right for when he lifts the car into the air. If you’re wanting a good front page picture, then this isn’t what you want . . . . If, however, you just want something, then we might be able to talk.”
“It’ll be one of many things we will be using in our story,” Lois bit out vaguely.
“Uh huh,” Henderson replied, amused. “Well, if you have so many things already, then you probably don’t need this.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a tape, which he then held up in the air.
“Just give us the tape, Henderson.”
“There are conditions, Lane.”
“And what are those?” I asked, giving Lois a warning look.
“Oh, just the usual. You keep us up-to-date on your investigation—especially if you learn this guy poses a threat. He seems helpful enough now, but you can never tell.”
“Done,” Lois agreed, snatching the tape away from the detective. “Keep in touch with us.”
She sped out the door with her prize in hand, and Henderson looked at me. “She’s a handful.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered, following after her.
****
“Henderson was right. This tape is basically useless.” Lois sighed and stopped the video of what had been recorded at the traffic light. “But at least we will have something to go on the front page.”
Jimmy was passing by, and Lois waved him over. “Jimmy—do you think you could get us some pictures from this tape? None of them will be very good—just do your best.”
“Sure thing,” he replied amiably.
Then Lois looked at me. “Now, we go interview a few people. Maybe they can give us some sort of description.”
****
After talking to some people and not learning anything more about my physical description in the costume, Lois and I returned to the Planet and began our article. Jimmy had placed several photos on Lois’s desk, and we chose a few of the better ones to show Perry White.
Lois started with the headline:
IS THE BLACK KNIGHT BACK—
IN RED AND BLUE?
“We need to be careful that we don’t make any assumptions,” I pointed out. “This Black Knight may not be the same person as the Red-Blue Blur.”
“I think they are,” she replied as she typed. “It’s just too convenient otherwise.”
I bit back a reply, not wanting to seem suspicious. But I was getting worried. If the Black Knight was forever connected with this new persona, it could be bad for me. The costume used by the Black Knight had obviously been the outfit of someone trying to hide something.
I watched as she continued writing, and then I pointed at her screen. “That’s not spelled right.”
“They’re called editors, Clark,” she retorted, her fingers still flying over the keys.
Rolling my eyes, I waited until she paused in her writing. Then, I shifted her keyboard toward me and went back and changed a few words and phrases. Next, I added a few sentences and moved a few others around.
Lois glared at me the entire time. Finally, she said, “Don’t edit my copy.”
“This is our story,” I returned calmly, “and I’m going to play a part. I intend to pull my weight.”
She muttered something unintelligible, and I ignored her. After adding a paragraph at the end, I said, “There!”
“Are you sure you don’t need to move a comma around?” she asked sarcastically. “Can I send it to Perry now, or do I need to wait until you put a gold star on it?”
Simultaneously irked and amused, I walked to my desk, grabbed a piece of scrap paper, and drew a star on it. I returned and handed it to her. “There. It’s not gold, but it carries with it my seal of approval nonetheless.”
As she sent the article with a glare and I returned to my desk, I heard her muttering about the incomprehensible humor of Kansas farmboys. It was all I could do to refrain from making a comment about the stubborn willfulness of city girls.
****
After work, I called my parents, knowing they would want to hear from me.
I learned quickly that they had heard all the buzz. Apparently, they’d been flipping through all the news channels for every scrap of detail they could find.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t show anybody your face,” Mom commented. “You can’t stay out of the spotlight forever, and people seem to be getting suspicious. They’d almost forgotten about the Black Knight, and now here’s this Blur figure. You’ll need to talk to somebody soon.”
“I know, I know,” I acknowledged. “I just wanted to try it this way first . . . . See how it felt.”
“And how did it feel, son?” Dad asked.
I grinned into the receiver. “It felt good.”
Dad laughed, and I could hear the smile in Mom’s voice as she said, “So, it went without a hitch?”
“Yes, unless you call me having to do a story about myself a hitch . . . . ”
Chuckling, Mom told me, “I’m sure it won’t be the last time. There’s one thing you’re going to have to get used to—the publicity.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I admitted. That was definitely the darker side of doing something that put me in the limelight.
“Now, Clark, I checked out some dog training books from the library, and I’ve already started working with Jericho.”
“Mom—”
“You don’t have to decide now, but the reason for your decision is not going to be that he’s not trained well enough. I’ve done a little research and fast forwarded through a few movies for some ideas. We’ve already made him one of the best rescue dogs you’ve ever seen, and we still have more to teach him.”
“We?” I questioned.
“Well, Jericho needs someone to save, doesn’t he? Your father’s been playing the role of damsel in distress quite well.”
In surprise, I ventured, “Dad?”
“She’s right, son,” he confirmed. “I make quite the helpless maiden.”
I shook my head to myself. “The things you learn . . . ”
“Well, what I’ve learned is that Jericho is remarkably smart,” Mom said, pride coloring her voice. “He learns quickly. We’re trying to teach him commands that will help with the more common situations like mugging and fires, though we are also getting a bit creative.”
“Your Mom’s really enjoying herself,” Dad told me. “She’s getting into this as much as she got into that twenty-foot-tall metal sculpture she was working on five years ago.”
I raised my eyebrows, shifting the phone to my other ear. “Wow. She must really be serious then . . . . ”
“I know you aren’t sure whether or not you want to use him, Clark, but you could use a partner out there. And I know Jericho won’t enjoy just staying home all day.” Mom moved away from the receiver, and I could hear her saying, “Speak.” Obligingly, Jericho let out a sharp bark.
I sighed. “You might be right, Mom. I guess I could do things to protect his identity—when I wanted him to help me, I could remove the black spots and add the yellow collar. Returning him to normal would just be adding the spots and switching to a black collar . . . . Since I can move really fast and he has tough skin, I guess it should be easy enough.”
“Exactly,” Mom agreed.
****
It was a bank robbery that finally served as the debut of my face.
I had secretly wanted it to be something more dramatic, like a runaway subway car, but it was probably best that it worked out the way it did. After all, I didn’t like the idea of someone getting hurt. And a runaway subway car was bound to scare someone into having a heart attack.
I heard an alarm going off and flew to the Bank of Metropolis. I hovered above the building and used my x-ray vision to see what was going on.
There were three people inside wearing all-black outfits and ski masks. One of them was holding a businessman hostage—probably a workaholic who was there late.
The person with the hostage seemed furious, and he made a gesture to the others with his gun. Seeing my opening, I took it. A few seconds later, the hostage was freed, the three guns were crushed into scrap metal, and the bank robbers were outside the bank with a street sign wrapped around them. I hated destroying public property—again—but people didn’t exactly leave rope lying around. It seemed like it was something I needed to start carrying.
The criminals tried to get free, but the pole was wrapped too tightly around them. I looked at it one more time just to make sure it wasn’t so tight that it was hurting them, but it appeared to be fine. I refrained from heaving a sigh of relief. Moving people at extra-human speed and using my extreme strength around them were two activities I didn’t relish. Not too long ago, I had refused to touch people; to be forced to have contact with them in this fashion was a personal nightmare . . . . But I would need to get used to it. There was a lot that I could do to help the people of Metropolis.
“Don’t even try to escape,” I warned them. “I’m faster than you.
“What are you?” one man sneered. “A reject from the circus?”
“I’m your worst nightmare,” I told him, crossing my arms and looking menacing. I wanted to be an image that they would never forget.
“Boss, I wouldn’t mess with him,” I heard one man whisper.
“I’ll mess with who I want,” snarled the leader. But he didn’t say anything else.
The businessman exited the bank and approached me slowly. He pointed at the three men. “Did you do that?” he asked with a shaky voice.
“I did,” I acknowledged.
“Who are you?”
I hesitated. I hadn’t chosen a name for myself. Last time, the press had just named me . . . . Perhaps I needed to come up with a name, but I didn’t want to use “Kal-El,” so I just decided to hold off on making a decision about it.
“A friend of the law,” I said at last. “I am here to see that justice is served.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he replied with a smile. “I don’t know how you did that,” he nodded toward the three men, “but it’s good that you did. They tripped one of the alarms, but they were almost in, so they just kept working. A few minutes later, and they would have been gone. The police have been really busy at night these past few years . . . . The crime rate just seems to get higher and higher.”
“Well, I’m here in Metropolis to stay. Maybe my presence will start to dissuade some people from choosing the life of a criminal.”
The man’s brow furrowed. “Can I—go to the press with this? They’re calling you the Red-Blue Blur . . . . Metropolis has a lot of questions for you. It might give some people hope to know that you’re here to stay.”
I smiled at him. “I think the Daily Planet would be a good place to start.”
It was about that time when the police cars pulled up. Policemen jumped out with their guns . . . and then looked utterly confused when they saw three men on the sidewalk with a signpost tied around them.
“Officers,” I said in a commanding voice, trying to project an image of authority, “arrest these men for attempted bank robbery.”
“Who are you?” one of the officers asked, his suspicion obvious.
“He’s the Red-Blue Blur,” supplied the businessman helpfully. “He stopped them from robbing the bank by tying that sign around them.”
“You’re the Red-Blue Blur?” a different officer ventured.
I nodded. “I trust you can take it from here, gentlemen.” I was not going to stick around to give yet another police statement. I was beginning to be sick of them.
I floated in the air slowly, making sure they could see me clearly. I gave a slight nod and something that was halfway between a wave and a salute, and then I sped away, leaving behind only a sonic boom.
That had felt good.
