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Chapter 10: Desperation
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Straightening his tie, Clark paused a moment outside the Daily Planet to enjoy the feel of the soft rain on his skin. The scent of the fresh-fallen raindrops was sweet and soothing, though everyone else could probably only smell wet metal and soggy cardboard. The city lights gleamed in the reflections dancing atop the puddles scattered haphazardly across the streets, casting red and green rainbows that sparkled and shimmered with ripples. It didn't rain often in Metropolis, but when it did, it made sure to arrive in style.
And he was free to stay and see those future rainfalls.
Free to remain in Metropolis.
Free to be himself.
When he had been out on a rescue earlier, he had been asked to report to the courthouse. The city government had apologized for the mayor's "hasty, ill-advised" decision and informed him that he would not be asked to leave. In fact, they had thanked him for his contributions to society and *asked* him to stay.
The people had accepted him back into their good graces.
He didn't have to leave Metropolis.
With eager steps, Clark started to cross the street toward the Daily Planet, impatient to tell Lois the good news. She'd be home already, but he needed to write up a Superman rescue story for Perry before he joined her. Maybe he'd call her with the news...but then he wouldn't get to see the triumph and happiness explode into being like brilliant stars within her dark eyes. He wouldn't get to be the recipient of her excited hug as she threw herself into his arms. He wouldn't get to hear her laughter bubble over like a waterfall of delight.
No, he decided. It'd be best if he waited until he was with her to tell her the good news. It would be good to see her smiling again; she'd been so worried for him lately.
A spray of dirty rainwater splashed across Clark's suit as a van skidded to a stop right in front of him, cutting off his path. His hand went automatically to his tie, but two men were already jumping out and moving to confront him. Clark's eyes narrowed when he noticed that each man carried a briefcase, both of them made of lead.
Uncertainty curled its spidery hands around the pit of his stomach and twisted.
"Mr. Kent." A nearby traffic light spilled garish red tones across the face of the nearest man and gleamed in the tiny reflective surfaces of his rectangular-framed glasses.
"Rollie Vale," Clark replied, not sure what else to say in light of the fact that Vale and his brother had once kidnapped him just to draw out Superman. He could only hope that was their current purpose; if they had brought lead briefcases just for Clark Kent...well, he didn't want to dwell on that option. "I thought you were in prison."
"Yeah, well, the food wasn't the greatest. I told them to order from a different company, but did they listen to me? *No*, of course not. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. And speaking of what's in my hands..." He hefted the briefcase and Clark couldn't help but flinch back.
"You know I won't call for Superman," Clark ventured, not sure it was a smart move but unwilling to wait any longer to find out what Rollie's plan was. The sooner he discovered the plan, the more time he had to come up with his own.
"It's interesting you mention that." Rollie smiled at him, a tight, close smile that seemed little more than a grimace. "You see, what I have in these briefcases concerns Superman a great deal...as well as you. Now, obviously my assistant here--" He gestured to the man towering over him and standing at his side, an identical briefcase clutched in his hand. "--is not as well-informed as myself, hardly a surprise since I've been careful to keep certain things to myself--the more people who know something, after all, the less value it has. Besides, he wasn't there the last time I had you kidnapped and tied to a chair, compliments of the hulking cyborg my brother ruined with his harebrained schemes. He didn't see how...hard...you took the captivity and your rough handling by that idiot Corbin. He doesn't quite understand why we don't need a gun. In fact, you could say all we need are..." Rollie flashed that grimace passing as a smile again. "Well...Christmas tree lights, both of the standard colors--one each, if you catch my drift."
Clark did catch the drift, and suddenly he couldn't tear his eyes away from the briefcases. Standard colors--one each...green and red. "And what do you intend to do with them?" he asked, relieved when his voice emerged steadily. Every instinct he had was commanding him to fly away immediately, get out of range of the Kryptonite before anyone slower than himself could get it out of the shielding lead. If he did that, however, not only would Rollie Vale's suspicions be proven, but the henchman at his back would also know Clark's secret.
And no one could know that Superman was really Clark Kent, not when the threat of banishment had become so real so recently.
Not when Lois was so vulnerable.
Not when his parents were so easy to find.
Not when everyone knew who his friends were.
"Me?" Rollie Vale shrugged. "Well, for starters, I have a present I want to give you."
As soon as Vale reached out his arm, Clark took two large steps backward, expecting to feel pain wash over him in jagged, sharp waves. Instead, he saw something glitter with silver fire, something so small it was almost hidden by Rollie's fingers.
Lois's wedding ring.
"Lois," he breathed before he could think better of it. Terror flooded his being and threatened to carry away all reason and control. Desperately, he clung to that control, grasped hold of it as if it alone could save this situation.
"That's right. I've got the little woman stashed away, although may I just point out that you two keep the oddest hours of anyone I've ever met! It was difficult to track your whereabouts. In the end, though, hardly a challenge for someone with my intellect." He shrugged again and pocketed the ring. "Well, that should keep you from...running...off. Now, get in the van."
When Clark hesitated, Vale raised the briefcase threateningly. Clark paused an instant longer. If he flew away now--or even just ran at slightly faster than human speed--he could circle back and follow the van to where Rollie was keeping Lois. He could contact Henderson and have the police surround the place and rescue his wife. It wasn't his usual style of doing things, but one of those briefcases contained red Kryptonite.
And Clark wasn't ready to be exposed to that again.
He had just barely gotten his life back after the last time. He couldn't bear to lose it again.
"Oh, and did I forget to mention?" Rollie raised a pencil-thin eyebrow. "If I don't call my associate in exactly thirty seconds and tell him that I have you with me, he's got orders to off your partner."
"All right," Clark said hurriedly, all other options obliterated by the clear threat in Vale's manner and the lack of all signs in his voice to indicate he was lying. "All right, I'm getting in. Just...please, don't hurt her."
As soon as he ducked into the back of the van, Rollie's assistant slammed the sliding door closed. The back of the van was separated from the front and windowless, so Clark was locked in darkness. Not that it bothered him; he used his x-ray vision to track the turns they took and pinpoint their location. The minute he saw Lois, he promised his racing heart, he was out of there. He'd leave the capture of Rollie Vale--and the briefcases in his possession--to those who weren't susceptible to Kryptonite.
When the door was opened, Clark hastily covered what he had purposely dropped, pretended to blink myopically in the sudden light, and allowed Vale's assistant to haul him out into the center of the crowded, abandoned interior of a warehouse. Clark absently noted the clutter of tables, tools, cardboard boxes, and packing labels as he scanned the surroundings for Lois.
Her heartbeat. It was all around him, echoing through the vast, cavernous interior of the warehouse. And yet, no matter how loudly it resounded through his superhearing, Clark couldn't pinpoint its origination.
"Where's Lois?" he demanded. Eroded by the beginnings of desperation, his voice echoed and rebounded in the cavernous warehouse just as did the heartbeat he knew without sight was his wife's.
"I'm afraid there are a few rules to this encounter. What? Did you think I'd just let you see her--hand her over and watch you take her out of here? Oh, that reminds me." Rollie turned to his henchman, who was arranging the two briefcases on a nearby table. "Tell our associate we're here and remind his employers to be patient. I always deliver."
"You'd better," the thug growled. "Intergang expects results for its money."
"And she'll get them. What do I look like--an idiot? Now, go." As soon as the man had disappeared through a door leading to a few dusty offices, Rollie Vale turned his attention back to Clark. "Now we can speak a bit more freely. I know you're Superman. Or should I say...I know Superman is you. But let's forget about semantics. What's important is that these little goodies I found in a certain vault will affect you. All I have to do is open one of these briefcases, and I'll achieve my objective."
"Your objective? And what's that?" Clark shifted so that Vale, moving to stand next to the Kryptonite, wouldn't be behind him. He kept one eye on the criminal scientist and the other searching for Lois. She had to be here somewhere. If only he could mute the echoes of her heartbeat so he could hear only the original...
"I should think that'd be rather obvious. But then, I always forget that some people are even dumber than my stupid brother. Guess the possession of muscles really does mean a high intelligence isn't too likely, huh?"
"If you spend all your time gloating, you'll never get to explain the rules of your game," Clark pointed out. The floor had been covered with lead paint, implying that there was something to hide beneath their feet. If he could just find some indication of a trap door...he was almost certain her heartbeat was coming from that side of the warehouse.
"Good point." Rollie caressed the first briefcase. "Well, Superman, this briefcase contains green Kryptonite--very painful, debilitating, and lethal if exposed in large enough--or long enough--doses. This briefcase," he moved to the second, "contains red Kryptonite, the cause of several different reactions but, most recently, the complete removal of all your control regarding your powers. And the cause of most of your publicity problems at the moment, if I'm not mistaken."
"I know what Kryptonite does to me," Clark snapped, impatience and fear eating away at his mind. As far as he knew, the only good thing about Kryptonite was that it couldn't harm anyone aside from him; he hardly needed a list of its detrimental effects, particularly when someone like Rollie Vale couldn't possibly understand the true horror of Kryptonite.
Rollie smiled and flexed his left hand, an odd movement that attracted Clark's attention. "Then, to make a long story short, let me just say that Intergang has hired me to make sure you're forced to leave Metropolis permanently. Seems they have an interest in this city, and they're not too keen on sharing. The way I see it, there are two ways to get rid of you. One: I can kill you--or rather this green Kryptonite can--thereby making it impossible for you to cause Intergang any further trouble. Two: I can force the city to exile you using the red Kryptonite. Aside from the most paranoid of the bunch, they've been so disappointingly reluctant to turn on you. But with Lois here, all I'd have to do is put you in a confined space with her and the red Kryptonite, wait for you to accidentally kill her, and watch the city explode in horror that their superhero is capable of murdering his most devoted, outspoken supporter. We'll see then what they have to say about 'asking' you to leave."
"I haven't heard any rules yet," Clark managed to say past his dry throat. The room seemed to spin around him, and he forced himself to concentrate on the sight of Rollie Vale and the sound of Lois's steady heartbeat. The mere thought of Lois dying at his own hands was enough to completely shatter him. It had already haunted him for the past week, a specter now given substance and weight by Vale's threats.
"Maybe because I haven't given them yet," Rollie said sarcastically. "Rule one: you get to pick the color of Kryptonite. Rule two: you do exactly what I say unless you want me to kill your lovely wife. Rule three...well, there really isn't a third rule."
"Green," Clark said immediately, almost frantic as he used his telescopic vision to look for any openings in the floor. There! Just a little over ten feet away from his current position. It had to be Lois! Slowly, he began edging toward it. "I choose the green."
"I had a feeling you might. The mighty, softhearted hero can't choose his own life over someone else's, particularly not the life of the woman he loves, the woman who lies to protect him. Well then, the green it is."
With a move so fast only Clark's eyes could follow it, Rollie brought his left fist up and smashed it into one of the briefcases, releasing a short burst of green gas. The instant Clark breathed it in, he felt tiny daggers of agony rip their way down his throat and settle their piercing claws into his skin. Blinded by the gas, he stumbled backward, trying to get away from the briefcase. Only...he didn't feel any pain washing outward from the case; it was all embedded within him, spread by every harsh breath he choked in.
As painful as it was, however, it wasn't enough to account for all the green Kryptonite that had been stored within Klein's vault.
Where was the rest of it?
"Oh, I just remembered the third rule." Rollie Vale advanced on Clark, looming over him when Clark slipped and half-fell to the ground, supporting himself with a shaky arm. "Rule three: I lie."
Gathering his strength, picturing Lois smiling at him, Clark lunged upward from the floor and tried to tackle Vale.
Rollie batted him aside with his left arm so quickly his stride didn't even hitch. Clark gaped up at him, shocked by how easily Vale had stopped him. There hadn't been that much of the Kryptonite gas; his strength shouldn't have been affected so badly that he couldn't even stop a single man.
"Cyborgs are definitely underrated," Rollie Vale commented with humility that rang so false it might as well have been fingernails ran down a blackboard. "I've found that the more robotic parts I have, the faster and stronger I am. It made it easy to beat S.T.A.R. Labs security, grab your wife and evade her very skilled fighting techniques--and stop you." Abruptly bending low to the ground, Vale lifted the trap door Clark had spotted earlier.
The echoes of the heartbeat disappeared, leaving only the real thing.
Clark's own heart skipped a beat when he saw Lois lying, unconscious, in the confined space beneath him. A bruise adorned her cheekbone and blood matted the back of her head, darkening her hair. He wished she would look at him so he would know his world still existed, but her lashes lay delicately against her skin, her breathing even but shallow.
"Get in with her," Rollie commanded, his voice much harsher than it had been minutes before. "Get in or I get the red Kryptonite. And trust me, as weak as that green Kryptonite made you, you'd never be fast enough to beat me to that briefcase."
At the moment, Clark couldn't care less about calculating speed times; he was more worried about Lois and the bump on her head. Made clumsy by the dissipating Kryptonite, Clark shuffled his way to the cubby-hole and crawled in. If Vale closed the door over their heads, there wouldn't be room to sit fully upright, and he had to slip his arm under Lois's head and cradle her body to himself in order to fit next to her. Clark tried very hard to forget the fact that he had several claustrophobic tendencies.
"Good job, Mr. Kent. Now, as noble as your sacrifice would have been, I'm afraid Intergang wants you completely discredited before death. So..." Rollie stepped back to his previous position, crouched next to the end of the cubby-hole, and opened a small panel. The still-intact briefcase, Clark suddenly noticed in horror, was sitting next to Vale's knee.
"No, wait!" he cried desperately. "Don't!"
But it was too late. Vale pulled open the briefcase and extracted the red Kryptonite.
He was touching Lois, Clark reminded himself frantically. In fact, Lois was cradled in his arms.
His deadly arms.
He had to be more careful now than he ever had before in his life. He had to control his every movement, his every thought, his every breath.
Already, he could feel the red Kryptonite emanating from Vale's hands. It was too close, too dangerous, too strong. And then not only was it coming from next to Rollie Vale, but it also surrounded Clark, engulfing him in its lethal field. Everything around Clark glowed red; even Lois's skin seemed to bleed with it.
The criminal scientist had infused the cubby-hole, Clark realized, just as Luthor had once infused the bars of a cage with the green Kryptonite.
Terror choked him, brought on by both the Kryptonite and the closeness of the walls around him. Ruthlessly, Clark fought it off, crushing it beneath the weight of his resolve and love for the woman held so dangerously in his arms.
"Now, here's the real truth," Vale sneered down at him. "The red Kryptonite currently painting the confines of your prison is hooked to an automatic triggering device. If you so much as cause the walls around you to shiver or if you break through the walls or try to burrow through the ground--if *anything* breaks the Kryptonite field, the device will trigger the release of the remainder of the green Kryptonite gas. I figure, enclosed in that tiny space, it'll kill you pretty quickly. So, in essence, you still have the same choice: allow the red Kryptonite to magnify your powers and force you to kill your reporting partner, or trigger the green gas and kill yourself. Either way, I fulfill my bargain with Intergang and get my money." Rollie's self-satisfied smirk hovered over Clark for a moment before the trap door descended and slammed shut, leaving Clark sealed in with the red Kryptonite.
Tamping down on his urge to beg Vale to get rid of the red Kryptonite, Clark held himself absolutely still. He could feel the length of Lois's body against his own; her breaths feathered soft and warm against his neck; her hair tickled his chin.
"It'll be all right," he whispered aloud to break the oppressive silence that made him fantasize he could hear the deadly hum of the Kryptonite. "Don't worry, Lois. I promised I wouldn't hurt you. And I won't. I won't. I won't."
Remember practicing the powers, he advised himself. Remember standing in that Kansas field and exercising constant, brutal restraint.
But this was different, he thought despairingly. This time, there was no escape. At least, not until he was sure he could break through the shrinking walls without also breaking his wife. A few minutes to accustom himself to his intensified powers and then he would tear through the trapdoor that closed them in. Even if Vale was telling the truth about the green Kryptonite, it would be worth it to free Lois before he could kill her.
"I won't hurt you," he murmured without conscious thought. "I won't hurt you. I won't hurt you."
Each breath he pulled in was carefully modulated. He released it slowly and precisely.
He lifted his hand from her waist--slowly--and laid it against the ground, forcing himself to feel each particle of dirt against his fingertips.
He closed his eyes tightly and refused to think about flying.
The rest of his body he kept utterly still and motionless. He dared not shift his legs, dared not even try to move his arms or adjust his hands. Above all, he dared not look at or face Lois, lest his heat-vision or super-breath harm her. The last time, he had consciously activated his heat-vision, yet his breath had exploded from him to take out the electricity at S.T.A.R. Labs without his volition. He had to be careful, so careful, that he didn't make a similar mistake now, trapped in a few suffocating feet of room with his wife.
Lois's breath tickled his neck. Clark allowed his own breath to be exhaled slowly, filled with relief each time frost didn't pearl the walls.
Careful.
Cautious.
Slow.
Precise.
Control had abandoned him and energy now filled his body full to bursting--but it didn't matter. He had not spent his entire life practicing his restraint only to lose it when Lois's life was on the line. Those long years of control would help him now, he determined resolutely.
Each time he touched a person, he knew exactly how much pressure to exact. Each time he knocked on a door, he made certain to use only the force necessary. Each time he used a pencil or typed on a keyboard or drank out of a cup, he held the object in a grip loose enough to ensure the flimsy material survived his hold. Each time he traveled anywhere at even a moderately quick speed, he ensured that he avoided knocking into anything.
All of that practice would now come to his aid and save Lois's life.
Careful, he told himself once more, a silent litany chanting in his mind, colored in the garish hue of wet blood.
Cautious.
Slow.
Precise.
Lois's life was on the line, literally held in his arms. He didn't dare reach up over her head to retrieve his glasses as he had done that first night, so he had to do this on his own, without anything to use as a safety measure.
A few more minutes, he thought. A few more minutes in this deathtrap buried away from the sky and then he'd get Lois out of there. The thought of breathing in a lethal amount of green Kryptonite gas was so much more appealing than the prospect of feeling Lois's blood on his hands and knowing it was his fault or seeing her eyes staring sightlessly upward and knowing that it was he who had quenched her fire and vitality.
"I won't hurt you," he murmured soothingly--more for his sake than Lois's. "I won't hurt you. I won't hurt you."
Superman didn't lie, after all. So he promised himself--and her--over and over and over again, as if sheer repetition could ensure he didn't break the promise.
"I won't hurt you. I won't hurt you. I won't hurt you."
