Previously...
"Get up, alien scum!" Watson said, his gun raised and ready. "The boss wants to have a word with you."
Clark blinked rapidly, trying to banish the last shreds of sleep from himself. He got to his feet and moved to the bars. He gripped them hard, anticipating the poisonous assault of Kryptonite on his body. But none came, much to his relief.
"What's the matter? Trask can't do his own dirty work? He sends you to come get me?" Clark asked, his anger and fear adding an unintended harshness to his words.
"Trask?" Watson chuckled. "You aren't seeing him right now. You're seeing the boss. And you're not going anywhere."
"Who is this 'boss?'" Clark asked.
"Me."
A chill ran down Clark's spine at the voice. It was one he knew. One he hadn't heard for many long years. One he'd counted himself lucky for having put firmly in his past. And yet, by some cruel twist of fate, here it was again. Here she was.
"Lana," he breathed. "What...?"
***
"Lana?" Lois echoed. "Lana, your ex-girlfriend, Lana? Lana Lang?" She sounded as shocked as Clark felt. "This is her?"
"Lana Luthor now," the woman corrected, as she stepped into their line of view, her black leather pumps clicking like gunshots on the tile floors.
"Luthor," Clark repeated, spitting the name out like a curse.
Lana nodded. "After my father died, my mother and I moved. She met Lex at a business conference and they fell in love. When they married, he adopted me. What better way to get ahead in the world than to use such a powerful last name? Of course, my line of fashion designs is nothing more than a very lucrative hobby. I spend most of my time keeping the Bureau in order for my father."
"Your father? But this is..." Lois began.
"A legitimate military operation, yes," Lana said, as though reading Lois' thoughts. "Welcome to Project Blue," she said gesturing around them.
"Then how can you be keeping 'in order' for Lex?" she asked.
Lana snorted. "Who do you think funds this little operation, hmmm? Those bozos in Washington? They ran out of money for this years ago. My father offered to run it on his dime, so to speak."
"Why would he even care about the Bureau?" Lois asked. Clark could almost see the wheels spinning in her mind.
"Do you know how much money he's made, building on the technology this freak," Lana replied, gesturing dismissively at Jor-El, " and the others used to supply the Bureau with? Taking control of the Bureau meant taking control of the technology."
"Why are you doing this?" Clark asked, drawing Lana's ire from Lois, but still ever mindful of the green bullets he knew would be in Watson's handgun. "What do you want from us?"
"You've been a thorn in my father's side, ever since you first started wearing that ridiculously hideous costume," Lane said bluntly. "Going around, interrupting things. Costing him money."
"Putting away the criminals he deals with?" Clark added, spitting the accusation out through gritted teeth.
Lana ignored him. "A presidential order protects him," she said, waving a hand disgustedly at Jor-El. "But, fortunately, nothing protects Superman or the pathetic little reporter he pretends to be."
"So, what then? You're going to shoot me? Why bother keeping me alive as long as you have? I could have bled out earlier," he said, the words shooting like acid from his mouth, though he knew he was inviting trouble.
Lana gave him a dangerous smile. "Oh, I have something much better planned for you. You see, there is one thing that my father does admire about you. Your powers." Her voice was a snake's hiss by now, and Clark felt a cold fear creep down his spine. "Now, my friend Jason here," she said, nodding toward her side where Trask stood silently watching their conversation, "thinks that, if we dig deep enough, we'll find out the source of your powers. And when we do, we'll find a way to pass on your abilities to my father."
Lex Luthor with my abilities? Clark thought with growing alarm. The world wouldn't stand a chance. He'd destroy everything.
"He thinks," she continued on, "that all we have to do is crack you open, like an egg, and we'll find what we need. And if we don't...well, there are other experiments we can run on him." Again, she gestured dismissively at Jor-El. "At least, the non-fatal ones."
"Non-fatal," Lois repeated, a hint of a question in her voice. "What...?"
She wasn't given a chance to finish speaking before Trask jumped in.
"Vivisection." He grinned a deadly grin at Clark. "Do you know how much I've waited for this moment, alien? I'm going to love every minute of watching your alien body being opened and explored. I want to hear your screams. I want to smell your blood. And when they are done with your carcass, I'll be the one to throw it into the furnace."
Clark's fear turned into full-blown panic. His worst nightmare was coming true. And, what was worse, was that he would be alive for at least some of it as it unfolded. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lois and Jor-El go stark white at the threat.
"You know as well as I do that you won't find anything different that you can steal to bestow powers on another," Jor-El said, coming to Clark's side.
Trask shrugged in a bored fashion. "Maybe. Maybe not. We won't know until Massimo's up to his elbows in alien guts."
"You can't do this!" Lois protested.
"I can, and I will," Trask said, glaring at her. "Well, our surgeon will, at any rate."
"Don't you get it?" Lois called out, panic tinting the edges of her words. "If you kill him, you kill the world's hope for a better tomorrow."
"No. I'll simply eliminate the false hope this invader has duped the masses into believing in. The same glassy-eyed idiocy that will keep the world from defending themselves when more of his kind come to forcibly take over this world and enslave us 'lesser mortals' who have no powers of our own to fend them off with."
"You're delusional," Clark said defiantly. "We're not here to take over. We have no one waiting in the wings to do so much as throw a party, let alone to seize control over the world. All I've ever wanted was to help people. Even people like you."
Trask snorted in what sounded like disbelief.
"You want to protect the world? Fine. But you're going after the wrong guy. Go after Luthor," Clark continued.
"And why would I do that? He's the one holding this organization's existence together. He's the one standing as the world's guardian."
"With blood money!" Clark spat out. "He's not a hero, Trask. He's nothing more than a common criminal. Murder, Trask! That's what we're talking about here."
"Oh really?" Trask asked in a bored, dismissive tone. "If he's such a bad guy, why is it that he's given us millions to ensure that no alien life-form ever leaves this compound to terrorize the world?"
"Because he knows that one day, one of us will uncover his misdeeds and expose his evilness to the entire world," Clark replied. "Because he's been making billions off the patents for technology he's stolen from more advanced races that live among the stars. Because he knows that nothing can stop him from taking control of the Earth if he gains the abilities that Jor-El and I have." He shifted his gaze to Lana.
"You can't possibly believe that he's looking to gain my powers for altruistic reasons. Think about it, Lana! You're smarter than this! He sends you to do all his dirty work. He won't have to lift a finger but he'll gain all the reward. Right? You'll have all the blood on your hands, ordering my death, and you won't be given so much as a hint of power. Oh, maybe he'll make you his personal assistant once he has the world on its knees."
"Probably not even that," Lois spoke up. "He likes his assistants to be available for his...baser desires, from what I understand. And I highly doubt that even he will be so depraved as to do that with his stepdaughter. He probably won't even make you head of any of his companies. No, you'll probably be stuck leading this group of alien-hunter misfits for the rest of your life. Lana Luthor, head of Bureau Thirty-Nine. An organization that will be so despised for killing Superman that even the most cowardly of men would gladly put their lives on the line to assassinate its members. Particularly its head. And trust me - somehow or another, the truth will come out about that."
"Enough!" Lana fairly roared. "Believe me when I assure you that no one will ever know of how 'Superman' met his demise. He'll simply...fade away from the public's thoughts. Jason, is your team ready?"
"Chomping at the bit," he replied with a cold, satisfied smile.
"Good. I expect a report by midnight. Don't fail me. Or I swear, things will not end well for you," she ordered.
Trask nodded brusquely. "You can count on me. I've been waiting long enough to rip into one of these freaks. I'll see to the final preparations myself." Without another word, he strode off.
"Good," Lana said, more to herself than to Trask as she eyed Clark like a caged animal.
Clark felt his heart thudding faster with every step Trask took. He felt nauseous, despite the fact that no one had pulled out any Kryptonite. He gripped the bars tighter, in an effort to support his body as his knees threatened to give out. Never before had he faced such terror. Never before had his death been so close. He could almost feel it there, reaching for him with icy fingers.
"Lana, wait!" he called out as the woman and her underlings turned to leave.
She took one more step, then, to his relief, she stopped and looked back at him. After a moment, she waved the guards away.
"Leave me," she instructed them.
Wordlessly, they obeyed. She turned her emotionless gaze on Clark.
"What?" she asked, annoyed.
"Think about what you're doing," Clark pleaded. "There's no coming back from ordering another person's death."
"I've done it before. You're no different."
"Aren't I? Come on, Lana! I know we could have ended things between us better, but you know me! Do you honestly believe that I pose some threat to the world?" Clark asked, shoving his rising desperation aside.
"No," she said in a monotone, her eyes boring into him. "But I do believe that you pose a risk to my father. No matter which suit you're wearing."
"He's a criminal!" Clark reminded her. "I can prove it! I've been working on gathering enough evidence to put him away for good."
She ignored the comment. "You know, you could have had it all, Clark. A good life. Me. The protection that only I can give you from all of the people in this building, all of them hungry for the chance to extinguish any alien life on this planet."
"So, what then? This...this death sentence is some kind of revenge? Some way of punishing me for realizing that we would never be compatible?"
Lana laughed, the sound of it harsh and bitter, and totally out of place in that metallic hell. "You misunderstand me. This has nothing to do with our past. The pathetic life you used to live...being a poor working grunt of a reporter...dashing around the world in a grotesque costume...all of that would have held me back. Sad to say, but you did me a favor by not staying with me."
"Let me go, Lana. Let all of us go. You were never like this before. Never so...coldhearted. I know the old Lana has to still be there inside, somewhere. You know this won't end well for you. Do yourself a favor and let us go. Things will go easier for you, in the long run."
Again she laughed - a sound completely without any heart to it. "Do you really believe I'll ever be implicated in Superman's disappearance? No, Clark. Let me tell you something about real people. As soon as Superman's absence is noted, people are going to assume that he left the world high and dry. That he up and left just as suddenly and without explanation as he appeared. They won't care to look for you. They won't remember you as a hero. You'll go down as a speck in the footnotes of history as a jerk who gave the world false hope for less than a season and who abandoned humanity without so much as a farewell. And as for Clark Kent, measly reporter? People go missing all the time. Sure, the Kents will probably grieve for you for a time, but even they will likely think that you just left without saying goodbye."
"That's not true!" Lois protested. "Superman is loved. People will always remember the good that he did, no matter for how long or short a time he was able to. People will always want to find out the truth of what happened to him. And when they do, they'll call for your head on a platter. And Clark? Clark has touched more lives than you can possibly imagine. His family and friends will spend their lives looking for him."
"That's where you're wrong. Once my father has his powers, he'll be the one people will remember. A true human, not some alien masquerading as one." She looked Clark up and down for a moment. "You know, I always knew something was off with you." She spat the words out like poison, turned on her heel, and strode away, barking orders at a few guards down at the end of the hall as she drew near them.
Clark wearily retreated from the cell bars. Snubbing the cot, he leaned back against the wall and let his body slide down until he sat on the floor. He took a moment to gather his thoughts.
"Clark? Are you okay?" Instant concern bloomed across Lois' face and mingled with her words.
"Yes. No." He sighed. "I'll be fine. I just...I never once imagined Lana being...like that. That's not the woman I used to know."
"I'm sorry," Lois whispered, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him. She put her arms around him in a comforting manner.
"Can that really happen?" He directed his question at Jor-El. "Can they really find some way to...steal our powers, to give them to someone else?"
Jor-El shook his head slowly. "As far as I know, our powers are possible due to the particulars of our genetics interacting with the yellow sunlight of this world. Not from, say, some organ that can be transplanted into another. They will be killing you for no reason and they know it." His voice was bitter and enraged as he stared off in the direction Lana had disappeared.
"Thank God," Clark whispered, relieved. "The thought of Luthor with these abilities..." His voice trailed off as he shuddered at the unspoken thought.
"They won't kill you," Lois swore. "We'll think of something. I just..." She shrugged, unable to complete her thought, though Clark could read it in her eyes. I can't think of anything, they screamed in silent desperation.
The three fell silent as they each became absorbed in their own, futile thoughts. And, though Clark was usually an optimist, he could see no clear solution. His thoughts became bleaker as he focused more and more on the horrors to come, despite his best efforts to shove such thoughts aside.
"There has to be some way!" Lois finally uttered frantically.
"I have been trying to find a way for many long years," Jor-El replied contemptuously, as though Lois were an idiot, incapable of understanding the situation she was in. "This compound is secure. Even if we made it out of this cell, we are in the very bowels of the place. Numerous check-points would still stand in our way. We might get through some of them, but, eventually, someone would find us. I tried it myself, years ago. If not for that presidential order protecting me, I would have killed on the spot."
"Clark will be killed if we don't figure something out!"
"You think I don't know that, woman? He's my son!" Jor-El roared. "I would gladly give my own life to see him safe and out of this place!"
"Enough! Both of you!" Clark cried, raising his hands in a 'stop' gesture. "This isn't helping anything."
"You're right. I'm sorry," Lois relented after a few seconds, while Jor-El looked sheepishly at the floor.
"Now, assuming we could get out of this cell, do you think you can guide us out of here?" Clark looked to Jor-El, waiting for a response.
"Yes," he said with a confident nod.
"Good," Clark said, nodding in turn. "That's one less thing to worry about." He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, trying to will his way out of the cell. "Now for the hard part."
"Oh, it won't be difficult at all," the voice of Jason Trask said, as he approached the cell. "You won't have to do anything but lay on the table." He looked to his right, where one of his men stood ready. "Bring him."
The man nodded and grunted his acknowledgement. Clark could see the name "Hastings" embroidered on the fatigues he wore. He was a big, heavily muscled man who easily towered over Clark by half a foot or more. He pulled a keycard from his pocket and held it up for just a heartbeat or two. There was a buzz as the lock on the cell opened. Hastings opened the door and grabbed Clark, shackling him and pulling him out into the hall in a swift, practiced manner, while Trask closed the cell door. It was when Hastings pulled his keycard back out that Clark took his chance. Before the scanner could register the information on the card, Clark mustered all his strength. He turned and rammed his body into Hastings, knocking the man off balance as he was caught off guard.
The man immediately seemed to forget about the lock as he went after Clark. He struck back, catching a fist in Clark's wounded shoulder. The pain momentarily blinded Clark in a haze of black and red, though he did not stop fighting. He lashed out, striking Hastings in the stomach. But the man's muscles were rock-hard with many years of punishing bodybuilding, and he appeared not to even notice, even though a new wave of pain exploded in Clark's hand as he made contact. Hastings smirked and put one arm around Clark's neck, choking off his airway.
"Enough!" Trask roared. "You may not care much about your own life, freak, but I know you care about hers, he said, nodding in Lois' direction. "One more false move and I swear I'll empty my gun into her."
Clark instantly gave up the struggle. He went limp in Hastings' embrace. After a moment, the man loosened his grip, allowing Clark to breathe easier.
"Okay," Clark choked out, coughing. "You win. I'll go quietly. Just...one last request."
"And why would I grant you a request?" Trask asked, now sounding more amused than anything.
"Because," Clark said, "it's the decent thing to do."
"Amongst humans," Trask amended for him. Then, as though turning the question over in his mind, "Very well. What is it that you want?"
"Just to...say goodbye," Clark said, nearly unable to get the words out. His move to ensure that the lock didn't actually lock hadn't been for his benefit. It had been to give Lois and Jor-El their chance. In his heart, Clark knew he was going to die. "Please."
"You have thirty seconds." Trask turned to Hastings. "Let him go, but keep your weapon at the ready."
Clark felt the massive arm come completely away from his body. He stepped to the cell door, to where Lois stood.
"I'm sorry, Lois," he began. "I wish I could have done more to save you. For what it's worth, my life has been so much better for knowing you. You took away all the hurt and loneliness I once had. I love you." He leaned in to kiss her, the bars standing like cold soldiers between them as their lips met. He could taste the salt of her tears as they started to flow. He kissed her lips, her nose, her eyes, then moved to kiss her cheek. "I did what I could," he whispered in her ear, so lightly that he prayed she didn't miss his words. "Save him for me. Save yourself."
"Clark...no. Please," Lois pleaded.
"I can't. I love you, Lois."
"I love you," she whispered back, her voice choked with tears.
Clark pulled back and looked to the man who'd fathered him. "I wish I could have known you better. Please, watch over Lois for me, Dad."
Jor-El nodded, swallowing hard as he did so. "My son," he breathed. "I love you."
"Enough. Time's up, alien," Trask said as Hastings put a hand on Clark's shoulder and pulled him away before he could clasp hands with Jor-El. "You don't want to be late for your doctor's appointment, now do you?"
With that, Clark allowed himself to be led away to his fate. But, though his feet led him further from the woman he loved, his heart stayed behind.
Please, Lois. Get out of here, he pleaded in his mind.
He'd never been one to shed many tears, but his vision soon fractured beneath a wall of water. He didn't want to die. Though he would gladly give his life in order to give Lois a chance of escape, he couldn't just accept his death without a fight. But...how? He didn't doubt that Trask would kill Lois before Clark's waking eyes if he so much as sneezed the wrong way. How could he fight, knowing that it would cost the woman he loved?
Then too, without his powers, what hope did he have of surviving a fight? Even if he got the upper hand, he was only too aware of the Kryptonite he knew Trask and Hastings had to have on them. A second would be all they would need to bring Clark to his knees. One bullet - even a regular one - expertly placed to his head or other vital area of his body, would kill him, just as surely as the vivisection he was facing.
A bullet would be merciful, he thought bitterly. Just a split second of pain and then I'd be gone. No dragging out my misery on a cold metal table while my insides get ransacked in a morbid, pointless scavenger hunt.
No! another part of him screamed. You can't give up! Fight, Clark!
It was enough to rouse him. Using what strength he had left, he tried to break away from his captors, knowing, in his heart, that he wouldn't know where to go even if he could get away. But Trask was ready for him. The moment Clark tried to make a move, Trask pulled a box containing a piece of Kryptonite from within his pocket. As the lid snapped open, Clark felt the deadly effects. His attempt to break free died before he really even began. Trask slipped his sidearm from its holster and smashed the butt of it into the back of Clark's skull.
The world went black.
To Be Continued...
