And now for the full treatment…
Clark made sure that Jimbo and the others in the newsroom exited down the stairs before running into the storage room to change into his Suit. Several more explosions rocked the building during those few minutes. He could hear windows bursting downstairs and people screaming.
Wouldn’t it be awkward if people lost their lives during those few minutes he took to preserve his modesty?
Vats of newsprint ink had caught on fire causing the room to fill with smoke.
Is that why they have the ‘no-bombs’ sign stuck to the walls of the room?
He scanned through the smoke and found a charred body near one side of the room. The sight hit him like a sucker punch to his gut.
Jimmy!
“Explosion,” Jimmy murmured. “Out of nowhere.”
Actually, out of his cousin’s lunchbox. Must be an attempt to make sure Lucy won’t shack up with him.
“My arm!” Jimmy groaned. The right side of his work suit was soaked through with hot ink.
So, disability retirement?
He had brought several more people out from the lower levels and was about to check the upper levels, when he heard a man calling, “Cat? Cat, where are you?”
Uh-oh.
“Thanks, Superman!... How…?” Phil replied before his voice faded into the other noises.
Well, knowing the boyfriend of your fling is usually helpful in avoiding embarrassing encounters.
Two floors up, he found her in the corner of the landing with other people still filing past. She had a gash in her forehead and she leaned against the wall, looking unstable and disoriented. Without a word, he scooped her into his arms and she passed out in what must have been relief.
Oh dear. All that can’t be healthy for a pregnant woman.
Phil’s eyes widened as his finger pointed and his mouth fell open further in a familiar gesture that Clark hadn’t seen since moving away from his home dimension. “You’re…!”
Oops?
LOIS: ‘Oops’? ‘*Oops*’?
Clark nodded. He stepped out of the way so that Phil’s gaze caught sight of Cat on the stretcher.
“Cat!” Phil rushed past him to his fiancée. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry.”
Oh, so *now8 he’s sorry?
CAT: Sure, I’ll take him back. I always wanted to have an indentured servant.
What was the point of a secret identity if keeping it only hurt the ones he loved?
It’s so someone *else* doesn’t hurt the ones he loves.
It was too much of a coincidence that someone attacked her at nearly the same time as the Daily Planet;
/points at first remark/ Car went right off the curve there/
Michael
