Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Starmen: Kerth Challenge #3 (2019) - Complete

Lois and Clark Episode: Season 1, Episode 17, “Vatman,” written by Michael Norell
TV Series: Starman
Character from Starman: Paul Forrester

This story starts on Day 3 of the episode, and is told mostly from Lois, Clark and Paul’s points of view.

I’ve slightly altered the original timeline of the episode to fit this story.

THis whole story will be posted in more than one post in this topic (thread) today.

Series Synopsis is in the spoiler section. If you’re familiar with the TV series, you don’t need to read the spoiler. There’s also enough information in the story itself that the spoiler is optional.




--SSS--

Perry, wearing his new toupee and an Armani suit, stepped out of his office with a fax in his hand and spotted Lois.

“Lois! Robbery and hostage situation at Metropolis Merchant’s Bank. Shake a leg!”

Lois grabbed the fax and then, distracted by his attire, looked more closely at Perry, “New suit?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“Special occasion?”

“Not really.”

After she looked at him thoughtfully, “You okay?”

“Lois?”

“Yes?”

“The bank? Hostage situation?”

As her eyes snapped to the fax, she became all business, “Oh, right!” She dashed to her desk, grabbed her briefcase and headed to the elevator.


--SSS--


At the Merchant’s Bank no one seemed to notice the tall, quiet, dark-haired man with the camera case over his shoulder. Paul Forrester had spent years on the run with his son, Scott. Blending in was now second nature for him. He found it interesting to observe others and their reactions. He hated being the center of attention, although he knew there were times it was necessary. He quietly melted into the background and pulled out his camera. A freelance photojournalist, he carried his camera with him. Unnoticed, he snapped photos of the gunman and the superhero.

As he glanced at the crowd from his vantage point, he knew no one else suspected that Superman was not his usual self. After disarming the gunman and turning him over to the police, the superhero had helped the hostages up from the floor. As he’d grabbed Paul’s arm, the former hostage knew that the superhero wasn’t the original, but rather a clone, like himself.

Paul wondered why the clone was so aggressive. From his touch, Paul knew he wasn’t one of his people. He scanned the crowd, but couldn’t see Clark Kent. He needed to talk to him. His attention was drawn to a woman who was talking with a policeman. He heard her identify herself as Lois Lane.

Clark’s partner! Maybe he’s nearby!

Moving closer so he could hear, he heard the policeman say, “Tense standoff until Superman arrived.”

Excitedly, Lois replied, “He’s here? In Metropolis?”

With a nod the officer replied, “He flew in the top floor window, apprehended the perp and freed the hostages. He’s over there,” the policeman pointed to the police wagon and allowed her to enter the cordoned-off area.

Rushing over to the superhero, Lois raised her arm and called out, “Superman! Superman! You’re back!”

Suddenly, the suspect broke away from the two policeman holding him. He started to run but found himself abruptly stopped. Paul watched in horror as the clone intercepted him, grabbed him and carelessly tossed him over twenty feet into the van. Paul hoped the man wasn’t seriously hurt. It validated his conclusions about the clone. This definitely was not the original Superman. He would never have treated any criminal that badly. The policemen shook Superman’s hand before checking their prisoner. Paul heard them say the wagon was taking the suspect to the hospital since he was unconscious.

Superman turned, seeing Lois walk slowly towards him. He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before.

Tentatively she called out to him, “Superman?”

Formally, he replied, “Yes?”

When he his brows furrowed, she hurriedly explained, “It’s me, Lois.”

Paul watched in stunned silence as the clone raked his gaze over her, then smirked at her before abruptly flying away. If the clone’s actions had bothered her, the only outward sign was her stunned stare at the part of the sky where he’d flown away.

The clone’s actions definitely upset Paul. He wondered why he was so different than both Clark and himself. Apparently this clone didn’t have any difficulty using brute force to restrain criminals. He hoped that behavior didn’t extend to victims, but knew from his contact with humans that there was a fine line that separated necessary force from outright brutality.

As the crowd thinned, Paul made his way to the nearest policeman to ask if he needed his statement as one of the former hostages. Once he finished, he would contact Clark. He owed him so much, and his friend needed to know everything he’d learned about the clone in that simple touch.

--SSS--

About an hour later, Clark strode into the newsroom after talking to his folks in Kansas. While they didn’t have any answers about the impostor, just talking to them helped. Lois saw him and rushed up to him.

“We have to talk. There's something wrong with Superman!”

His eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Superman was at the Metropolis Merchant’s Bank robbery.” In a softer voice, she continued, “He wasn’t himself.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, the gunman broke away from the police. As he ran away, Superman grabbed him and tossed him at least twenty feet into the back of the police van. The police took him to the hospital with a concussion.”

“What!”

“That’s not like Superman.”

“You saw him? He’s here?”

“Yes, Clark. That’s what I just said.”

“Where?”

“Hello. Merchant’s Bank. Hostage situation. Aren’t you listening?”

“Sorry, I was distracted.”

“You should have been there with me. Where were you?”

“With my folks.” At her confused look, he held his right hand up as if holding a phone receiver in it and quickly amended, “On the phone... talking with my folks on the phone.”

“Uh huh.” She stared at him and a moment later continued, “When I looked at him, it seemed he didn’t recognize me. Then he smirked at me.” She looked thoughtful before continuing, “Clark, Superman doesn’t smirk.” Shaking her head, her voice faded as she mused, “It’s like...”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. It’s just strange. I wish I could talk to him privately.” She headed back to her desk.

Clark turned to his desk and whispered, “Me, too.”

As he sat down at his desk, his phone rang.

“City Desk, Clark Kent.”

“Clark, it’s Paul Forrester.”

“Good to hear from you! How are you and the family?”

“We’re all fine. Scott and Jenny are visiting relatives in Wisconsin.”

“That’s great! Are you in Metropolis?”

“Yes. I was at the bank robbery this morning. Just finished giving my statement.”

“You were there? Are you all right?”

“Fine. I shook hands with Superman.”

“You did?”

“I took some pictures and was a hostage if you want an eyewitness account.” He quieted his voice to a barely audible whisper that he knew Clark could hear, “We need to talk privately.”

“Okay. I, um...”

“Clark, I know you weren’t there.”

“You do? What am I saying?” He chuckled. “Of course you know. Because, well, you’re you.”

“Yes, I am.” Paul grinned although he knew Clark couldn’t see it.

“Hold on a minute. Let me ask my editor.”

There was a brief interlude of hold music, which Scott had referred to as “dentist office music.” Before even one song finished, Clark was back on the line.

“Mr. White would love to see your photos. We had a photographer there, and may not be able to use your shots. Still, he would like to see them.”

“Okay. If you can use them, fine. If not, then I can always do something with them later. Mostly I need to talk to you.”

“Sure. Can you come over to the office? Or do I need to come to you?”

“I can get a cab. There are some waiting outside.”

“Great. I’ll let the security guard know that I’m expecting you, so you should get right in. If there’s any problem, have him call me. He’s a good guy, although new and sometimes a bit overzealous.”

“I understand. I’ll see you soon.”

Clark hung up the phone in deep thought.

So Paul saw the impostor and knows he’s not me. Maybe he knows something more.

Clark turned to his computer and opened his email.

--SSS--

Stepping out of the cab a half hour later, Paul stood before the Daily Planet building. The historic building was well-known throughout the newspaper business.

Paul went through the revolving door. Stopping at the front desk, he gave his name and stated his business was with Clark to the security guard. He was given directions to the newsroom, and as he crossed the lobby the guard called Clark to let him know his visitor had arrived.

The ride up the elevator was unremarkable. Paul’s major concern was whether the original Paul Forrester had offended anyone here. He had run into that a few times, and it always was a mine field walking the fine line of telling the truth yet misdirecting the original’s former colleagues. Or, Paul shuddered, his romantic conquests. Although as far as Paul could see and what he had learned of romance, the original’s encounters with the opposite sex were selfish and the last thing this Paul would consider romantic.

Jenny’s love for him was the first exposure Paul had to any form of love, let alone romantic love. She'd taught him that true love meant caring so much that you would sacrifice yourself and your freedom if it meant theirs. George Fox, the FSA agent obsessed with capturing an alien and his progeny, had made Scott and Jenny’s lives a living hell for far too long. Fox had chased Jenny until she had to give up Scott to foster parents when he was only three. And when Paul had returned, they found Jenny once but for all their safety had separated again. It wasn’t until after Nightfall, when Superman was given the keys to cities across the globe, and governments fell over themselves trying to to get in his good graces that things changed.

Superman had requested that Bureau 39 and the FSA’s activities be curtailed. Not only Superman had been pursued, but he pointed out that they had endangered all of his contacts as well as the alleged—although never officially proven—alien Paul and his son Scott. Paul never knew what Clark had promised if they continued their threats to innocent legal citizens. And somehow, he’d arranged diplomatic immunity for Paul. Only the highest level of security clearance knew that Paul was indeed an extraterrestrial.

After Superman interceded, the case had been quietly closed. Although George did not go quietly or willingly. Sadly, the last Paul knew he was confined to a maximum security mental health facility. Maximum security due to his previous security clearance levels, and the government secrets he knew. Mental health facility because despite Superman’s assurances that Paul was no threat to national or international security, he continued to spout his paranoid delusions of an incoming alien invasion.

Fox’s fanaticism was exceeded only by the now-deceased Jason Trask, who Clark had told him had threatened Clark, his family, Lois and his family’s neighbor Wayne Irig. Trask had planned to kill Clark and likely everyone close to him. For no rational reason that Paul could understand or grasp. Fox, on the other hand was determined to capture and experiment, probably eventually dissect, him and his son by so-called scientists who Paul considered more accurately government-sanctioned terrorists. Cruel and sadistic, they had showed Paul what horrendous acts humans were capable of when fear outweighed what Jenny described as common decency. While he was not prone to violence, in that case he had destroyed their computers and the data they’d collected. Although as far as he knew the only thing their data would have shown was that Paul and Scott were both human. The alien part of both of them should not register on their machines.

As Paul stepped off the elevator, he stepped out of the way for several people to board the car. His gaze swept the newsroom, looking for Clark. He was looking with his back to a tall, auburn-haired beauty. Her face lit up in recognition, and then she headed purposefully in his direction. When she reached him, she spoke sultrily into his ear.

“Hello, handsome. Why didn’t you return my calls?”

Paul startled at the closeness of her breath and the implied intimacy in her voice. He turned. “What?”

“Oh, darling. Don’t you remember Vegas?” Cat Grant grabbed his tie, pulled him towards her, ready to plant a searing kiss on his lips when Clark appeared next to them.

“Cat, what are you doing?”

“Clark, this is my old friend, Paul Forrester.”

“Actually, Cat, he’s here to see me. And I doubt his wife would appreciate your advances.”

“Wife?” Turning to Paul, Cat asked, “You’re married?”

Holding up his left hand with his wedding band, “Yes.”

“And I thought we had something special.”

Although Paul had run into this before, he hated to play the playboy the original had been. Before he could come up with a suitable response without sounding harsh, Clark jumped to his aid.

“Cat, do you remember Paul was in a helicopter crash on Mount Hawthorne?”

“Oh, yeah. Were you seriously hurt?”

With a whisper, Clark answered quickly for Paul, “Amnesia.”

“Oh, you poor thing! Perhaps we could jog your memory. When Clark lost his memory he was supposed to be around the familiar.”

“And I’m sorry, Miss, but you are not familiar. I do not even recall your name.”

Cat’s face fell. Paul continued almost apologetically, “There are a lot of things I don’t remember.”

“Oh. I guess I was forgettable.”

“Under other circumstances I doubt that. It’s just that so much of my life is missing.” Which was the truth since the original Paul Forrester was dead, and this Paul had only been on Earth for the past seven years.

Clark interjected. “Our editor, Perry White, is expecting us. Cat, excuse us.”

“Of course. Perhaps we could catch up on old times later?”

Paul softly answered, “I don’t think so. My wife wouldn’t like that.”

“Oh. Well pencil me in for another time.” Cat spoke clearly for anyone nearby listening and then headed back to her desk with her head held high.

Paul shook his head at her audacity. As they walked to Perry’s office, Clark whispered to Paul, “She thinks she has to keep up her image. She’s usually harmless.”

Before Paul could answer, they were in front of the editor’s door. Clark knocked and was greeted with a gruff, “Come in!”

Clark ushered Paul into Perry’s office. Perry looked up from his desk where he had his blue pencil out correcting copy.

“Oh, Clark. Paul Forrester. You still freelancing?”

“Yes.”

“I heard you’ve changed. I run a newspaper, not a dating service.”

“I’m happily married and have no intention of risking that.”

“Oh, good. Then, what have you got?”

“Well, I was at the Metropolis Merchant’s Bank robbery earlier today. I was one of the hostages and have pictures.”

“Great! Lois has the bank robbery story. Check with her about including Paul’s story and pictures. Jimmy can run your film to the dark room. Unfortunately, the Planet’s staff photographer didn’t get there in time.” Perry’s phone rang just then and he dismissed Clark and Paul before answering and getting immersed in his call.

As they walked out of the office, Clark asked quietly, “Have you met Lois Lane?”

“Only from a distance, I saw her at the bank. I don’t know if she met him, though.” Paul responded in equally soft tones. Clark scanned the newsroom and noticed that no one seemed interested in the two men.

“Understandable. If necessary, we’ll use the amnesia thing.”

“I hate to lie.”

“You’re not lying. You really don’t remember anything about ‘your’ life before Mount Hawthorne do you?”

“You’re right.” Paul beamed as he continued, “You just gave me the perfect excuse. How did you think of it?”

“I had amnesia during Nightfall. I’ll explain later.”

The two men walked to Lois’s desk. She was engrossed in writing her story. After a brief introduction, she suggested that Clark write up Paul’s story, or he and Paul do it with a shared byline since Paul was a Pulitzer-prize-winning photojournalist. The two men walked to Clark’s desk. On the way, Clark saw Jimmy and asked him to take Paul’s film to the lab for development. Jimmy’s expression was one of awe, and he informed Paul that he was his hero. Paul gently acknowledged that and then suggested Jimmy look in the office for a mentor and hero he could follow daily.

Clark and Paul knew the story came first because they needed to meet the paper’s deadline. Paul’s eyewitness account as a hostage would beat the other news organizations’ stories. That combined with the original’s standing as an acclaimed photojournalist added credibility. Clark and Paul decided not to mention the false Superman’s harsh behavior unless Lois or Perry asked about it. Paul knew that at least one of his photos could show it, but he could honestly say he was too busy snapping photos to speak to Superman.

They walked over to Clark’s desk, and Paul sat down in the visitor’s chair. He gave Clark his eyewitness account. Clark’s writing style impressed Paul as he brought the reader into the tense situation followed by the relief of Superman’s arrival and rescue. The story ended there, since Lois would be writing her version of the rest of the story.

Clark sent his copy to Perry for final approval with a copy to Lois’ email. As they were waiting, Paul looked around the bullpen. Clark noticed a messenger arrive at Lois’s desk. He stood by her desk as she typed.

Clearing his throat, the messenger asked, “Lois Lane?”

“Yes.”

“This is for you.” He handed her a large envelope, which she tossed onto her desk and resumed typing.”

After a moment, he spoke, “I’m supposed to wait for an answer.”

“Oh!” Lois nodded, then tore open the envelope. She pulled out the contents and silently read the note before smiling.

His curiosity aroused, Clark lowered his glasses to read the note.

Dear Lois,

Please forgive my behavior today. I have so much to tell you.
May I see you tonight?
I could be at your place at 9.
Please say yes.

Yours,
Superman


Lois turned to the messenger with a broad smile on her face. “The answer is a definite yes.”

Clark’s eyebrows rose as he realized the audacity of the clone. Inviting himself to Lois’s apartment at night as if he was the real Superman!

He turned to the puzzled Paul.

“I’ll explain privately.”

He ushered Paul into the conference room and glanced around at the curious eyes of his fellow reporters in the bullpen. As his eyes scanned the room, very few met his glance. Most quickly looked away.

Perry came out of his office and growled, “What is this, the Weehawken Gazette? Don’t you people have work to do before the deadline? Anyone who doesn’t, see me for an assignment. I want copy in fifty minutes!” He grinned to himself as he returned to his office.

The staff all scurried to their desks. Those already at their desks hastily turned back to their computers. Only Lois had been busy typing her story and continued concentrating on it.

Clark closed and locked the conference room door. Sheepishly, he turned to Paul, “No need to tempt curious reporters. Someone may let their curiosity get the better of them and come barging in without knocking.”

“Anyone in particular?”

Clark smiled, “Lois because she’s insatiably curious and hates to be out of the loop.”

“Out of the loop?”

“For anyone to know something she doesn’t.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Yes, but don’t tell her that,” Clark said with a lighthearted voice and a wink. “Jimmy sometimes comes barging in when he has something to report. And then there’s Cat, who may try to hit on you again.”

“I hope not.”

“Me, too. Take it from me, she’s basically harmless but very determined. When I lost my memory during Nightfall, she tried to convince me we were in love.”

Paul raised his eyebrows.

“I think she’s embarrassed about that. Or should be, which is one reason why I used it as your excuse.”

“It’s a good one. One I wish I had thought of long ago.”

“Well, I doubt I would have thought about it if I hadn’t had amnesia. If she tries anything, just remind her of your amnesia. You can honestly tell her you’re a different man since Mount Hawthorne and have no intention of ever cheating on Jenny.”

“You’re right again.”

“Okay, tell me what you can’t say publicly.” Before Paul could reply there was a rattle at the locked door. Clark and Paul smiled at each other.

“You were right.”

Stepping up to the door, Clark unlocked it to find Jimmy on the other side.

“I have your photos, Mr. Forrester.”

Paul extended his hand, and Jimmy surprised him by placing the photos in it. Moving them to his left hand, Paul extended his right again to shake and spoke, “My friends call me Paul. May I call you Jimmy?”

“Sure, Mist—I mean Paul.” Jimmy enthusiastically shook Paul’s hand. His expression was one of awe at having one of photojournalist’s living legends, whose work had inspired him to become one, not only shake his hand, but give him permission to call him Paul. And he called Jimmy his friend!

Clark and Paul flipped through the photos. “These are great, Paul. Let’s take them to the chief. Jimmy, you want to come?”

“You bet I do!”

Perry was pleased with the photos and bought them all from Paul.

“Great photos, Paul. They’ll be a great addition to both Lois and Clark’s articles. Are you planning on staying in Metropolis for a while?”

“I’m not sure. I’m visiting a friend.”

“Well, if you have any other photos while you’re here, I’ll be happy to look at them.”

“Thanks, Mr. White.”

“I thought we dispensed with formalities long ago.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“Really? I’ve never known you to forget anything.”

“Do you remember hearing about the helicopter crash on Mount Hawthorne?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you rescue the pilot, or something?”

“I did. I also developed amnesia, probably from the crash.”

“Oh. And you didn’t completely recover?”

“It’s like I’m a different man.”

“Well, you can call me Perry.”

“Thank you, Perry.”

Clark interrupted. “We didn’t get lunch. If you don’t need me, I’d like to take Paul home and get him something to eat.”

“Sure. Leave your beeper on in case something comes up.”

“Thanks, Chief.”

As they left, Lois called to her partner. Paul headed for Clark’s desk to give them some privacy.

Lois handed the note she’d received to Clark, “I want you to tell me what you think of this.”

After reading it, he turned to her, “It doesn’t sound like Superman.”

“That’s what I thought. I said I’d meet him, but am wondering if that’s a good idea. To meet him alone, since he’s so off in his behavior.”

“Do you think he’d hurt you?”

“No. It’s just...”

“What?”

She took a steadying breath before expressing herself, “It’s just that for the first time I’m actually concerned about possibly meeting him alone. And I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t think he’ll hurt me, but like I said there’s something off about him. If you’re there, he might be upset.”

“Lois, I can take care of myself.”

“Really? Against Superman?”

“Well...”

“No, I don’t want to take the chance. But, will you call me to check on me, say about 9:30?”

“Sure, I can do that.”

“Thanks, Clark.”

--SSS--

Inside Clark’s apartment, Paul took a seat on the sofa and Clark on the recliner.

“What did you want to tell me?”


“After the hostage situation was resolved, the other Superman spoke to all the hostages. He shook our hands.”

“And you found something?”

“Yes.” After a deep breath Paul continued, “You need to be very careful. He has a lot of hostility and hate towards you.”

“He’s never even met me.”

“Maybe he’s been taught to hate. He also has the mind of a child, and as you may have guessed, is a clone.”

“A clone? I didn’t know that scientists could clone humans or Kryptonians.”

Paul was silent as he gathered his thoughts. “Paul?”

“You’re right. They don’t have the skills to successfully clone humans. Kryptonian chromosomes are even more complex than those of humans.”

“But, how could someone clone me? I never gave blood.”

“I don’t think I ever told you how I cloned Jenny’s husband, Scott Senior.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“A hair. It doesn’t have to be blood. It could be any tissue.”

“Well, we can figure that out later. Wait, you said the cloning wasn’t successful.”

“Not completely.”

“But, he’s obviously alive. And appears to have most if not all of Superman’s powers.”

“Yes, he is. But, I do not know for how long.”

“What?”

“There is no easy way to say this. He is also dying.”

Stunned, Clark blanched before recovering, “Dying… You can tell that from a handshake?”

“I can.”

“Can you help him?”

“Maybe. I would need to use my sphere. And he would need to give me permission, or he needs to be dying in front of me.”

“So there is some time?”

“It appears so, although I do not know how long he has without using my sphere. And the hostage situation was not the right place to do that. It needs to be done privately.”

Clark assimilated all that Paul had said. “His treatment of the robber seemed excessive. Can you tell if he seems like a good person?”

“He is complicated. He’s got a hatred I have rarely felt in humans. And I don’t like the way it makes me feel. He’s also afraid, I think of his father.”

“His father?”

“Yes, that’s how he thinks of the person who has been teaching him. He believes that his use of force is justified, even if the world thinks it’s excessive. He believes Superman is his enemy. And you need to be extremely careful about your identity. I don’t know that anyone both of you are close to would be safe if he found out your identity.”

“Yeah. Not only from him, but also from his father. Anyone who has the resources to create a clone is dangerous and probably has evil intentions. Do you think the clone is looking for me?”

“I don’t know.”

Clark sat there pondering what to do.

“Something wrong?”

Clark looked up with a bleak expression on his face, “That messenger brought Lois a message from him. He’s having meeting her at her apartment tonight.”

“What will you do?”

“Well, I’d thought maybe Clark could show up.” After a moment’s pause, he continued thoughtfully, “Instead, now I think this is a job for... Superman.”

Paul considered the problem and then volunteered, “Have you thought about both of you going?”

“What?”

“It seems as though he’s going out of his way to avoid Superman. If you go as Clark and watch and listen from a distance, can’t Superman—the real one—show up almost instantaneously if the clone causes trouble?”

Clark’s thought about Paul’s advice. Paul watched as his friend’s expression changed from confused to thoughtful to enlighted. “Yeah, that may be safer. And maybe he’s avoiding Superman for a reason.”

“Why?”

“You said he’s like a child, right?” Paul nodded. Clark continued. “Well, what does a child need? Why did you come for your son, Scott?”

“He sent a distress call I thought was from his mother. I came to help.”

“And, you did. You’ve been teaching him ever since. So, the clone is probably being taught to act the way he does. If he’s avoiding me, then maybe they don’t want anyone to know he’s a clone. Seeing two Supermen would definitely blow his cover.”

“Okay.”

“In a way, he’s hiding. If he has this hate for Superman, then maybe it’s his—or his creator’s—plan to discredit me. Do you think he might want to kill me?”

After a few moments of deep contemplation, Paul spoke quietly, “Yes, I can imagine that. Of course we don’t know for sure, but it makes sense. Do you know anyone who would want that badly to harm you or your reputation and has the ability to create a clone?”

“Only one man jumps to mind. Lex Luthor has been trying to get rid of Superman since he arrived.”

“Why?”

“Several reasons, I suspect. Originally I made the mistake of confronting him as Superman. I thought it might slow him down or get him to look over his shoulder more. Instead, he viewed it as a challenge.”

“And he’s tried before?”

“Oh, yeah. First he staged some ‘tests’ of Superman’s speed, strength and invulnerability. Then he tried to drive him out of Metropolis and maybe the whole planet by blaming the November Metropolis heatwave that his power plant caused on Superman.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“With a scientist in his pocket and owning LNN, he was able to convince the city to issue an injunction forcing Superman to leave. I’m not sure what else he has done specifically to remove Superman, but this would be right up his alley.”

“What is ‘right up his alley’?”

“Something he would do. It’s usually used to mean something you like or know about.”

Clark suggested that Paul stay at his apartment while Clark checked on Lois and the clone. He offered to make him food, but Paul declined. Clark changed into dark clothes and left after suggesting Paul could fix himself something to eat if he got hungry. He’d left Paul a key to the front door in case he wanted to leave or come in later during his stay if Clark wasn’t home.

--SSS--

It was almost 9 at night when Clark sat on a bench across the street from Lois’ apartment pretending to read a newspaper. He wasn’t sure when the clone would arrive, so he’d been sitting on this bench for two hours. Clark had been listening to both the sounds of the city around him and to Lois in her apartment.

He could hear her racing around the apartment. It sounded as though she was making dinner.

Lois? Making dinner? Maybe it’s takeout?

He dropped his glasses to sneak a peek. Sure enough, she was rushing around in the kitchen.He turned back to his paper and realized he hadn’t turned a page in fifteen minutes. He turned to the next page and feigned interest. He was interrupted by the swoosh of the clone landing. Clark raised his copy of the Daily Planet high enough to cover his face and hoped the clone wouldn’t use his special vision to look through the paper. He lowered his glasses and activated his own special vision to confirm that the clone had indeed arrived. He watched as Lois invited him in. He watched and listened in case he was needed.

The clone stood in the center of her living room. He appeared both nervous and excited. Clark recognized his expression as one he’d worn on his first date as a teenager.

Lois greeted him, “Oh, hello. You’re early.”

Nervously, the clone responded, “Is that okay?”

“Sure.” She turned to the food, “Everything’s ready.” After a moment, as the consummate hostess, she continued, “Would you like a drink?”

“A drink? Uh, I guess so. I mean, I don’t really need to.”

She lifted the bottle of champagne, “Well, no one needs champagne. But that’s what makes life interesting, n’est pas?”

The clone nodded, “Life is interesting.”

As Lois nervously poured, a small amount spilled.

“You spilled.”

She handed him a full glass, and then poured one for herself.

“You look really hot.”

Lois choked as she was drinking but recovered quickly. “Oh. Thanks, I think.”

Eagerly, her date asked, “Can we sit on the sofa?”

“Sure.”

They sat next to each other. The clone put his glass on the coffee table and faked a yawn. He stretched and put his arm around her shoulder. Lois appeared shocked into silence.

After the clone put his arm around Lois’ shoulder like an awkward teenager, Clark decided to get changed. Tossing his paper into a nearby trashcan, he darted into the nearby alley. Barely a second later, Superman was in the sky, hovering overhead, watching.

The clone moved his head very close to hers, surprising her with his question, “Do you like me?”

“Of course. You know I do.” Taking a moment, she then ventured, “Although, I am a bit concerned about your behavior lately.”

Defensively, he responded, “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“No, of course not… It’s just that… I saw you throw that man and...”

“Might makes right.”

Before she could process that, he hurried on, “How about a kiss?”

“What?”

The clone grabbed her shoulders, pulled her close and kissed her eagerly and forcefully. Lois tried to push away from him, but he held her tightly in place.

Floating next to her window, Clark gently knocked. “Lois?”

Lois turned her head and sat stunned as she saw two Supermen. The one next to her glared at the one outside.

“Go away!” the clone ordered.

He was distracted and released Lois. She jumped up and ran to the window to open it. “Superman?”

“Yes.”

“Then, who?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Clark asked. “May I come in?”

“Oh, yes!” Lois stepped aside, and he gracefully entered her apartment.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. The clone stood with his hands in fists. Before he could speak, Clark asked him the question both he and Lois wanted to know, “Who are you?”

With a smirk he gloated, “I’m Superman.”

“Actually, I’m Superman.”

“I’m the new Superman. The improved version. I’m faster, stronger, better than you. Might makes right. You’re ob… obsol...”

“Obsolete?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Might does not make right. And I don’t think I’m obsolete. Who told you that?”

Smugly, he replied, “My father.”

“Who is he?”

“I promised never to tell.”

“But, you still haven’t answered my question. Since I’m Superman, you’re not. So who are you?”

The clone frowned, thinking, “That’s my name.”

“Do you have a family?”

“I promised not to tell.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. You’re interrupting us. We want to be alone.”

“Lois, do you want me to leave?”

“No! I mean, there’s plenty of food. I’m sure we can all share. And get to know each other better.”

The clone shook his head. “I don’t want to know him.”

“But I do. And I want him to stay.”

“Then, I’m leaving. It’s almost ten. I have to go, anyway.” With that he blurred past Lois and Superman and flew into the night sky. Superman followed his flight with his vision. It looked like the clone flew into LexTower, which confirmed his suspicions that Luthor was likely behind the clone.

After the clone left, Lois was visibly shaking. Not wanting to hug her as Superman, Clark felt torn. While he was debating with himself what to do, she pulled herself together.

“Aren’t you going to go after him?”

“I should. But I don’t want to leave you if you’re hurt or upset.”

“I’m fine. Really. All he did was kiss me.”

“If you’re sure. I think I know where he went. I’ll follow. If he comes back or you change your mind, just–”

“Yell, ‘Help Superman!’?”

“Yes.”

“I will.”

Superman took off, staying high enough to not be obvious to any humans. He hoped the clone would be distracted enough to not notice him. In a cloud above LexTower, Clark scanned the building. In the penthouse, he found Luthor and the clone. Tuning his super hearing to their conversation, he heard Luthor’s twisted version of Little Red Riding Hood, obviously a favorite of the clone. Like a small child, he responded to Luthor’s recitation as the man spoke. Another man in a white coat was in the room. Clark assumed he was the clone’s doctor, and probably the scientist who’d created him.

After the clone was locked in his tank, Luthor spoke, “What is it?”

“We have a small... problem,” Dr. Leek meekly ventured.

“Explain.”

“His vital signs are weakening, brain is showing some erratic activity, he’s developing an irregular heartbeat, and—”

Luthor cut him off, “What’s the prognosis?”

“He’s dying, like the frogs.” Taking a deep breath, Dr. Leek steeled himself to continue, “He was our first, the prototype. I warned you there might be complications.”

Luthor appeared concerned, but not for the clone’s welfare, “Any loss of strength or powers?”

“Not yet, but it’s just a matter of time, of which he doesn’t have much left.”

“Then it must happen tomorrow.”

“How can you be so certain he’ll win?”

“Because, if it means the difference between winning and losing, he would pick up a train loaded with passengers and use it to bash in Superman’s skull. Unlike Superman, he has no restraints, no morals. After all, I taught him.”

Dr. Leek stared at Luthor in shocked silence.

The two were so involved in their conversation that they failed to see the clone was awake and had a pained expression on his face. And they missed the single tear that tracked down his cheek. Apparently, they were oblivious to the possibility that the clone heard them.

Or maybe he’s smart enough to make them think he can’t hear them in that... contraption, Clark mused.

My bed, Clark heard in his head.

Before he could process that, Luthor spoke, “Before he dies, he will fulfill his destiny. Tomorrow, he will kill Superman.”

Clark was appalled at the callousness of Luthor towards the man-boy that he called his son. His heart hurt at the emotional pain the clone must be feeling towards the cold-blooded ruthlessness of both those men. An expression of horror followed by compassion crossed Clark’s face, which the clone noticed. Their gazes met in understanding.

I don’t know if we’re telepathic. If you can hear me, know that I will do everything I can to help you. I have a friend who may be able to help. And if he can’t, I’ll search the world to find someone who can.

When he finished, Clark felt deep astonishment and wondered if it was from the clone. Then he heard softly in his head, Can we talk tomorrow?

Yes! Clark replied.

The clone smiled, nodded slightly and after a few moments fell into a deep sleep with a peaceful expression on his face.

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