Previously...
Superman and the Daily Planet became synonymous, just as Perry had wanted. It wasn't even a conscious effort on Clark's part. It had everything to do with the exclusives Lois and Clark snagged, thanks to Clark's inside information, and how close he'd allowed Lois and the superhero to become. Of course, it only made Perry expect even better articles from all of the Planet's staff. They had a reputation to maintain, after all. Clark didn't mind in the least. He loved the challenge and appreciated that Perry trusted him on the important stories - something no other editor had ever done before.
Clark loved the new routine of his life. Solving cases at work with Lois. Saving lives as often as he could as Superman. Taking Lois out on dates and learning all there was about her. It seemed like nothing could break the perfection he'd finally achieved.
He should have known it was too good to last.
"Everyone, stop what you're doing!" a strange man declared one afternoon, just as Lois and Clark were settling back down at their desks after a lovely lunch date.
Clark looked up from his computer monitor to see armed men in military fatigues taking up positions around the newsroom. His heart leapt up into his throat and his stomach tightened into knots. He swiftly scanned the room.
No escape, he thought. No way to get Superman in here.
"What in the name of Sam Hill is going on here?" Perry roared as he stormed out of his office. "Who the hell do you think you are, disrupting my newsroom?" he demanded.
"Jason Trask," a man said, stepping forward. It was the man who'd ordered the bullpen to a halt. "Bureau Thirty-Nine. I have a warrant issued by Federal Court." He raised his voice. "Everyone back away from your desks, hands where I can see them."
"Now wait just a cotton-picking minute," Perry demanded. "You can't just barge in here and disrupt my entire newsroom like this." He stabbed his finger violently in the direction of the bullpen.
"If you have a problem, you can take it up with Washington," Trask said dismissively. With a sharp hand signal, he sent several of his men to secure the room. "Moore, Schwartz, the computers," he ordered.
"I'm not following," Perry continued. "What, exactly, are you here for?"
"Superman."
***
"Superman?" Perry repeated, scoffing. "You'd do better looking for him at some disaster or another."
"Do you think I'm stupid?" Trask asked. "I know he's not here right now. But I also know the Daily Planet seems to be bosom buddies with that alien creature. Smart money says that at least one of you has a way of contacting him. In particular, a reporting team consisting of Lois Lane and Clark Kent."
"Lois and Clark?" Perry asked. "What do they have to do with anything?"
"They have everything to do with things. Every time Superman's in the area, they get the exclusive, don't they? Come on, you're the editor here. Didn't it ever occur to you that it's not natural for two people to consistently stumble across the story?"
"My reporters are the best," Perry countered gruffly. "They work their butts off to get the story."
"Wrong!" Trask snapped. "They must have a connection to Superman. Somehow, they know his every move."
Oh, God, Clark mentally groaned as his stomach churned in fear. This nutcase wants Lois and me.
"Oh, Miss Lane! Oh, Mister Kent! Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Trask taunted.
We need to get out of here. But...how? he wondered, desperately scanning the room for some way to slip away unnoticed.
Trapped.
Clark started to feel his heart rate picking up speed. Beads of nervous perspiration
began to gather on his forehead. He felt his body flush cold with fear. He tried to force himself to remain calm and unaffected and put on the mask of detachment that Superman was famous for. There was no way he was going to give these strangers any reason to suspect him of any kind of close relationship to the Man of Steel.
Relax, Clark, his inner voice tried to tell him. They don't know anything. They can't. Play it cool and they'll leave you alone.
He swallowed hard and took a steadying breath, hoping that his inner voice was right. He attempted to force his pulse to slow, but his efforts were in vain. He looked to Lois. She didn't look nervous. She looked livid.
That's my Lois, he thought with a mental grin at her feistiness.
"Come with us," two burly men said as they each grabbed Lois and Clark by an arm.
"Hey! Hands off, you human wall!" Lois demanded as she jerked her arm out of the man's hands.
Clark shot her a look that she either didn't see or ignored. She was right about one thing though. The man who was escorting her did sort of resemble a wall with his huge body.
"Perry! You can't let them do this to us!" she called out.
"Don't you worry, Lois. I'll get this straightened up faster than you can say 'blue suede shoes,'" Perry tried to assure her. Clark only hoped that was true.
They were dragged off to Perry's office and left alone, with the "human wall" - as Lois had so aptly named him - standing guard, ensuring that they would not escape. Once inside, Lois turned to Clark.
"Lunatics! What do they want with us?"
"You heard them. They think we can contact Superman for them," Clark replied bitterly, his mind still churning as fast as he could fly.
"What do you think they want with him?"
Clark frowned. "I'm sure it's nothing good. Did you see the weapons on them?"
Lois nodded. "Yeah." She shuddered a little. "I don't get it. Why not just call for help to attract his attention?"
"Insurance," Clark said simply. "Or, at least, they think so. They think we have some way of making sure he'll show up."
"I wonder what will happen if he does," Lois mused, staring out to the bullpen.
"I worry about what will happen if he doesn't," Clark confided, knowing that Superman couldn't possibly make an appearance.
"He'll show," Lois said confidently.
"I wouldn't count on it, Lois," Clark cautioned. "I mean, it's a big world. He could be anywhere."
Lois huffed in annoyance and crossed her arms as she threw herself down onto Perry's plaid couch. "Why Superman? Why now?" she mused aloud, more to herself than to Clark, judging by the sound of her voice. "He's been around for what? Two months already?"
"I wish I knew," Clark replied, sitting down next to her. "All I know is, I don't like it. No one with good intentions would storm the Planet armed to the teeth. Superman is in danger."
"Hey, you two," Perry said, slipping into his office and closing the door behind him.
"Perry, what's going on?" Lois demanded. "Who are these guys? What do they want? Why Clark and me?"
Perry waved his hands in a gesture of pacification. "I talked to that Trask fellow. They just want to talk to you about Superman...ask you some questions and the like. Said it's a matter of national security."
"What?! Are they afraid he might accidentally do some good deeds or something? Maybe do some charity work or save some more lives or something? Stop a war or two? Pluck a little girl's cat out of a tree? Come on, Perry! You can't believe Superman's some kind of threat!" Lois fumed.
"No, I don't," Perry said evenly. "That's why I told them to shove their warrant where the sun don't shine. But, I made a phone call to his superior officer. I hate to say it, but it looks like they're legit. My hands are tied. I'm sorry."
Clark sighed. "Don't be, Perry. Things happen. Did they say what they wanted to ask us?"
"No," their boss said, shaking his head. "Their lips are tighter than Fort Knox's security."
Clark dragged a hand through his hair in nervousness. "So...what now?"
"I really hate to say it, but I'd let them ask you whatever it is they want to ask. The warrant is real. They'll either make you talk here, or in prison, son."
Clark's heart sank. Perry was right. If their orders were real, he wouldn't have a choice but to do whatever it was that was demanded of him. At least if he cooperated here and now, he could control some of the interrogation. So why was every fiber of his being screaming for him to run for his life?
"They, uh, want your computers too," Perry said, clearing his throat.
"Perry! You can't let them! I have private stuff on my computer," Lois protested.
"Don't you back up your hard drive externally?" Clark asked, surprised by Lois' outburst.
"Of course I do! I'm not stupid. But I have really personal stuff on the computer's internal hard drive anyway. Notes for my novel are on there!"
"Your...novel?" This was a new revelation for Clark.
"Never mind about it now," Lois snapped angrily. "This is a total invasion of our privacy!"
"I agree, but what can we do?" Clark asked miserably, sending up a prayer of thanks that he had nothing incriminating about Superman on his computer.
"Nothing at all," Trask said, entering the office. "Come with me."
"Where?" Lois asked, ice in her voice.
"I'm afraid that's confidential. But have no fear, Miss Lane. You'll be returned, safe and sound, once we're done with our conversation. Benson, Rockwell. Escort these two reporters to our vehicle, would you?"
Wordlessly, the two men complied. Lois and Clark were both taken by the arm and guided out of Perry's office, through the bullpen, and out of the building. They were ushered into the back of a military style vehicle and driven to the Metropolis airport, where they were loaded onto a military aircraft. Once aboard, Trask rejoined them.
"Where are you taking us?" Lois demanded again.
"Just a little trip. No big deal," Trask replied, as casually as if he'd taken them down to the corner deli. "We're just going to head out to our facility, to ensure the complete and utter privacy of our conversation."
"We could have done that in the conference room," Lois complained.
"Every wall has ears, Miss Lane."
"What is it, exactly, is it that you want?" Clark asked. "What do you think we can do for you, in regards to Superman? What is it that you're after?"
Trask took a long, deep breath and exhaled it slowly through his nose, as if contemplating answering Clark's question. Finally, he met Clark's hard stare.
"Information, Mr. Kent," Trask said in a quiet, menacing voice.
"Information about what?" Clark pressed.
"I need to know everything you know about Superman."
"What makes you think we know anything?" Lois replied. "Yeah, sure, we've covered his activities in Metropolis, but reporters all over the world have been doing the same thing."
Trask didn't answer. One of his men, Colton, by the name Clark could see in the man's nametag, came up and whispered quietly and swiftly into Trask's ear. Clark used his super hearing to try and listen in, but what he heard was ambiguous at best and he was unsuccessful in learning anything of value. Trask, for his part, only nodded in approval.
The flight was long, every second amplified exponentially by Lois and Clark's worry. Tension filled the air like an unseen poison, weighing down their hearts and tongues. When he could, Clark scanned through the windowless plane's body, hoping to find identifying landmarks to give him some sort of direction. But Trask's vigil over them rarely broke, and Clark had a hard time discreetly using his abilities. He was, however, certain, by the time they landed, that they'd been flown to Nevada. He guessed, from the brief glimpses of the outside world that he'd been able to sneak, and from his memories of flying over America, that they were in the top secret area known best as Area Fifty-One. Of course, he couldn't be sure. He usually didn't fly near the place. The rumors of it being a government facility dealing with alien life forms and technology made the short hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention.
Yes, he was certain now, as he saw a few distinctive landmarks. They were, indeed, in Area Fifty-One.
That, more than anything that had happened so far, chilled him to his very core.
"This way," Trask dictated as they disembarked from the aircraft.
He led them through a simple metal door that was embedded into the very stone of the desert. Beyond, air conditioning cut through the day's warmth and the world outside was forgotten in a tangle of man-made metal passages, tile floors, stairs, and machinery. It felt as though they'd entered a hidden city as they descended further down into the underground bunker.
"Here we are," Trask said at last. He gestured to two doors next to each other. Each was slightly ajar, exposing the tiny rooms beyond the threshold. "Miss Lane, you get door number one. Mister Kent, door number two."
"What do you think you're..." Clark started to ask, just before one of their armed guards shoved him through the open door, closing and locking it once they were both in the room.
"Sit," the guard commanded.
Fuming, and wishing he could just burst out of the room in a show of his extraordinary strength, Clark did as he was told.
Bide your time, he reminded himself. Find out what these people want before you do anything rash.
"What is all this?" he asked instead, motioning to the wires and computers and electrodes that were laid out on the room's only table.
"Just standard polygraph equipment," the guard, Rockwell, said as he began to hook Clark up to the machines.
"You can't do this," Clark tried to reason. "Lois and I have done nothing wrong..."
"Enough!" snapped Rockwell. "You'll get to talk soon enough." He touched a couple of fingers to his weapon in an unspoken threat.
Time wore endlessly on in that miniscule, windowless, clock-free room. Clark stretched out his hearing to try and learn more about the compound he and Lois were in. All around him, he heard voices - some casually chatting about sports games or favorite television shows, some issuing commands that meant nothing to him, some whistling tunes as they went about their assigned tasks. He heard nothing of any help to him, so he tried to focus on Lois. But he was too late. He heard the scrape of a chair as Trask stood and left the room, and Lois swearing at the man under her breath.
A moment later, Trask appeared in Clark's own room. He took a seat next to Rockwell, across the table from Clark.
"This is a polygraph machine," he explained. "It's very important that we get to the truth here. I'm going to ask you two questions to begin with. You will answer in the affirmative for both. We do this to calibrate the machine. Any questions?"
"Why?" Clark asked, growing nervous, despite his best efforts to remain calm. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because we believe that Superman may pose a threat to not only the United States, but to the very world. Now...is your name Clark Kent? Remember to answer 'yes.'"
The cold, emotionless way in which Trask spoke sent a shiver down Clark's spine.
"Yes," he answered.
Trask watched the machine's read-out for a moment, then nodded.
"Are you also Superman? Again, remember that we are looking for a 'yes' answer."
Clark took a deep breath. "Yes."
Trask frowned. "That didn't read as a lie."
Rockwell checked the machine. "Must be a glitch. Let's try it again," he said, fiddling with a dial.
"Again, are you Superman?"
"Yes," Clark answered, slyly blowing the machine's needle so that it read out as a lie.
"There, it's working again," Rockwell said, sitting back a little in his chair.
Trask eyed him coldly. "Good. Now, Mister Kent," he said, turning his expressionless gaze back to Clark. "You and Miss Lane seem to have extraordinary luck in grabbing Superman stories. Tell me, does he contact you in advance and tell you where to be?"
"No," Clark replied honestly.
"Can you contact him?"
"You mean like call him on the phone, or send him an email or something?" Clark asked, buying himself some time.
"In any way possible. Phone, email, telepathy, homing pigeon, anything."
"No," he answered, knowing that wasn't really the truth and watching as the needle swayed in response.
"Is Superman an alien?"
Clark took a steadying breath. "Maybe."
"Maybe?" Trask arched an eyebrow as he repeated Clark's word.
"I don't know his history, past what he's already told the press. All I know for sure is that he can do things no one else can," Clark responded, feeling an emptiness in his heart over his still-mysterious origins.
"Do you think he is here to cause harm to human beings?"
"No," Clark instantly answered. "I've seen him do too much good."
"Could all of his good deeds be no more than a front? A way to lull us into a false sense of security?"
"No." Another easy to answer truth.
"Do you believe there are more like him out there in the world?" Trask asked.
"I don't know."
I wish I did, he added sadly in his mind, though he'd long ago come to terms with the idea of being the only one like him in all the world.
"Do you consider him a friend?" Trask asked.
"Yes," Clark had to answer honestly. "I mean, I guess so. He's always been nice enough to me. He's a friend to everyone, except, maybe criminals."
And so the line of questioning continued, until even the questions that Clark could answer with complete honesty made him jittery in nervousness. Finally, he was given a reprieve as Trask called for an end to the polygraph test. Clark breathed a sigh of relief as the electrodes and wires were removed from his body.
"And now Lois and I are free to leave?" he half-asked, half-demanded.
Trask looked up from the polygraph's read-out. "Not quite yet. I'm afraid I have a few matters to attend to before anyone goes back to Metropolis. I have a man waiting outside, who will escort you and Miss Lane to an area where you can wait while I set some things in order."
"You're imprisoning us," Clark guessed.
"Oh, I wouldn't put it that way. Not exactly. More like putting you in holding. You see, Mister Kent," he said, leaning in threateningly, "I don't believe you've told me the whole truth about Superman. You know something. I don't know what, but I'm going to find out. I can promise you that." His voice was low and menacing.
"And Lois?" Clark shot back. "Why are you keeping her here? Or do you think she morphs into Superman in her spare time?" He had to bite back the rest of the words on his tongue. Belatedly, he'd realized that Trask might just be crazy enough to believe such a crazy notion.
"I can't very well send back one nosey, obnoxious reporter without her partner, now can I?" Trask cracked a farce of a smile and spread his hands on the table. "No, she'd just try to stir up the media. Better if she stays here with us until I get the answers I'm looking for."
"What answers, Trask?" Clark said, exasperated. "We've told you what we know about Superman. What more do you want?"
"I want him here, now." Trask said, his voice like the hiss of a venomous snake.
"For what purpose?"
"That is classified information."
Clark wanted to scream in his frustration. He felt like he was going in circles with Trask. He wondered if he'd be at least able to use his powers to break out of Bureau Thirty-Nine's compound once he was put into holding. With any luck, he would be able to change into Superman and make it look like the hero had tracked Lois and Clark to the desert, only to break them free of their imprisonment. Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be brought into the hallway, where an armed man he hadn't yet seen stood waiting for him.
Braxton, the man's ID badge read.
From the other room, a different man brought Lois out. Clark recognized Benson, the other man who, with Rockwell, had forced them to leave the Daily Planet. Benson passed Lois off to Braxton wordlessly, then spoke to Trask.
"Sir? The boss wants to see you, sir," Benson informed him.
Trask nodded. "On my way. Thank you, Benson." Then, to Braxton, "You know where to go."
Braxton cracked a partial, menacing smile. "Sure do."
He marched them through the underground complex. Clark tried to keep up with the twists and turns, but his mind was racing too fast to be able to concentrate much. He was too busy trying think of some way to get Lois out of this mess, even if he couldn't get himself out. True, Lois was Superman's closest friend in the short time the hero had been around, but there was nothing she could tell Trask. She knew nothing of any real value to offer the man, but Clark was terrified that Trask was insane enough to hurt her anyway - either because he didn't believe her innocence, or in a twisted attempt to draw Superman in for whatever nefarious purpose he had.
Lois.
He had to save her.
It was all his fault she was a part of their current situation. It was his duty to get her safely out of Trask's reach. He loved her too much to even think about what would happen if Lois got hurt or killed in Trask's deranged attempt to get to Superman.
"Down this hall," Braxton said after a while.
"Over my dead body," Lois shot back, shoving the man in a vain attempt to get free.
Braxton grabbed Lois and threw her violently against the opposite wall. Clark heard the air whoosh out of her lungs. Braxton raised his gun.
"Trask needs you alive, but he never stated what condition of 'alive' you have to be in," Braxton said as he took aim.
"Don't," Clark said, fear in his voice, his hands before him as if they alone could form a shield that could protect Lois. They could, of course, but neither Lois nor Braxton knew that. He stepped before her, acting as a shield, no longer concerned for his own safety or that of his secret. "Put the gun down."
"Clark, what are you doing?" Lois asked, her own fear rising as Clark stepped directly in front of her.
Clark ignored her and kept his eyes on the man before him. "You don't want to do this."
As if in response, Braxton fired his weapon. The bullet bounced harmlessly off Clark as he shifted his body to further block Lois. The man looked at him in surprise. But the look of shock on his face swiftly turned into a scowl.
"Son of a..." he swore at Clark while slipping a different sidearm from his belt. "You're one of them alien freaks too!"
Clark heard Lois' gasp as he dove for the man's weapon. But Braxton got one shot off. That was all it took. Clark cried out as the bullet tore through his flesh, searing it with an inferno of pain like he'd never imagined possible. The shock of the wound ripped through his body along with the unexpected lance of agony. He hit the floor hard and tried to cradle his injured shoulder. Blood pumped out through the ragged hole in his flesh and he tried to stem the flow of it, only to jerk his hand back as a fresh stab of lightning skewered his body.
"Clark!"
Through a fog of pain, where time seemed to stand still and the world faded away to nothing but the bullet hole in his torso, he heard Lois screaming.
He tried to reassure her, but his tongue felt leaden. His entire being felt like the life was pouring out of his body, faster than his blood could spill. The world around him grew dim around the edges before becoming mere pinpricks of harsh fluorescent lighting. Breathing hurt. Thinking was torture. Closing his eyes against the pain brought fresh agony.
So, this is what pain is like.
It was more of a concept in his mind - a single, glaring thought - than anything he consciously thought.
At least Lois wasn't hit.
Again, it wasn't so much a conscious thought as a searing moment of knowledge.
"Clark? Oh, God! What did you do to him?"
"Lo..." was all he managed to get out.
He was dimly aware of Braxton grabbing Lois and shoving her through the closest cell door. He thought he may have seen another person in that same cell, but his vision was too poor by then to know for sure.
"Clark! Hold on! I'll figure something out!" Lois called as Braxton grabbed him under the armpits and began dragging him down the hall.
Finally, darkness took him and he knew no more.
