Chapter 17
This clip was like a car wreck, Lois decided as the primary colours of Superman’s Suit blended once more into the drab hues of Clark’s business suit. You knew it was coming, knew it was going to be bad, and yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to look away.
It was strange, seeing it. While yesterday she’d been forced to accept that Clark and Superman were one and the same person, knowing the truth and seeing the truth were two different things.
The proof was right there, on the monitor, for all the world to see. The man she’d lusted after, dismissed, pursued, ignored…
Destroyed.
While Luthor was behind this, she’d been his unwitting accomplice. She’d turned a blind eye to Clark’s attempts to warn her, and she’d made it that much easier for Luthor to tear him down in the process.
If she’d just listened to him…
Abruptly she turned away from the monitors, flopping into her desk chair and pulling her notes from the hospital fire follow-ups towards her. If what Clark had said was true- and so far, it had been- then this fire was one of Lex’s diversions. If she could get to the bottom of it- if she could find some evidence linking it to Lex- then maybe she could begin to repair some of the damage she’d done to Clark.
Maybe.
***
Luthor watched LNN’s coverage of the Superman expose with a self-satisfied smirk. Seeing his enemy’s secrets laid bare on national television like that was thrilling; thrilling enough to almost make up for Lois Lane’s rejection of his proposal. His smirk morphed into a scowl. He’d thought he’d had Lois firmly in his grasp, so what had happened? Had he been too precipitate? Had he not succeeded in destroying the relationship between her and the alien?
“The footage is on every channel, sir,” the dry voice of Nigel impinged on his thoughts. “Superman’s secret is now well and truly exposed.”
“Exactly as we planned,” Luthor allowed his satisfaction to be seen once again.
“And the next phase of the plan?”
“Already in train, Nigel. Already in train.”
***
Joey Esposito checked furtively around before taking the last few steps to the aft pressure bulkhead. The job seemed so trivial for the money he’d been promised. All he had to do was remove a few bolts, and the rest of the fifty thousand was his- more than what he made in a year in his job as an apprentice technician. And what would a few missing bolts matter to anyone, he reasoned as he slid the last one out of its hole and put it in his pocket.
Climbing down out of the baggage loading door, he walked purposefully back to the maintenance shed. He’d put the bolts he’d removed in the containers of parts that were constantly being used in the shed, and that way no one would be any the wiser.
***
Perry climbed out of the cab in front of Clark’s apartment and stopped in his tracks. The entrance to his building was a seething mass of humanity. Even as he watched, two more reporters joined the pack. No wonder Clark had sounded so stressed; his home was essentially under siege.
Taking a deep breath, he waded into the sea of reporters, using abilities honed from years of pushing his way to the front of press conferences to get through the crowd to the top of Clark’s steps. He knocked on the door, ignoring the cameraman from LNN next to him that claimed Clark wouldn’t open the door, then knocked again.
“Kent? It’s Perry White.”
The door opened a crack as if to check his identity, then swung a little wider. Perry was quick to sidle into the gap and push the door closed, cutting off the jeers and booing from the reporters still stuck outside.
“Thanks, Clark.”
He nodded in response. “So what do you want?” Clark asked abruptly. “Every gory detail? From farm kid to reporter and part-time superhero?”
Perry paused in the act of brushing himself off and adjusting his jacket- getting through the ravenous press corp outside Clark’s apartment hadn’t exactly been a cinch- to stare at the younger man, freshly appalled at the depths of anger and despair in his voice.
“Forget about the interview for a minute, son. How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh huh,” Perry responded sceptically. “Clark, let me tell you a little story. The King became very famous, very fast. His very first single with the Colonel made him a household name. He was the King. Despite all the lurid headlines and the bad publicity, he was still the King. And through it all, to his family and friends, he was still just Elvis. What I’m saying is, it looks bad at the moment. You’ve got a pack of reporters stuck outside your door waiting for Superman. But to the people that care about you, you’ll always be Clark Kent.”
“Thanks, Chief,” Clark responded quietly.
Perry gave his former reporter a quick smile and pulled the notebook out of his pocket. “Now, uh, let’s get this over with.”
***
Martha Kent watched the footage that had started replaying on every channel, stone-faced.
It was out. All their care, all the years of hiding what their son could do, were for nothing. His biggest secret- their biggest secret- had been exposed. She looked over at her husband who sat in grim silence, his eyes glued to the screen.
“We have to go to Metropolis,” she started.
“We can’t.” He stood up abruptly, tearing his gaze away from the footage that had started yet another replay. “Martha, we can’t! We don’t know who’s behind this and we can’t get to Clark without being seen. Clark thought it was dangerous enough to make us leave the farm. If we go to Metropolis now, we split his focus between looking out for us and taking down whoever’s been hurting him! We have to stay away until he gives us the all clear. We have to.”
“I can’t just sit here and not do anything, Jonathan! Our son needs our help-”
He cut her off. “And the best way we can help him right now is to stay safe!”
“Safe?” She snorted. “Any moment now they’re going to start digging. Somewhere, some reporter is going to start looking for us. How safe do you think we’ll be then?”
“Clark told us to stay put. He knows better than we do what’s going on, Martha! And that’s what we’re going to do until we hear otherwise.”
Martha turned away, exasperated. Jonathan was right. She knew he was right. But that didn’t make it any easier.
***
The next morning, Pery noted with grim satisfaction that every newsstand he passed was sold out of the Daily Planet as he made his way into work. He’d have to organise another print run. It was easily the biggest story of his career; he just wished it hadn’t come at the expense of a friend. His eye fell on the empty desk that had so recently been occupied by Clark Kent; scowling, he hung up his coat and picked up the phone, ringing down to the print room to give the order for that second print run before sticking his head out the door and calling for Jimmy.
The enormous bold headline ‘I AM SUPERMAN’ caught his eye.
Perry picked up the copy of the front page that had been left on his desk to be framed as a reminder of one of the biggest moments the Planet had ever covered. “That’s one of the damnedest headlines I’ve ever seen,” he murmured.
“Chief?”
He looked up from his perusal of the front page to see Jimmy standing in his doorway. “Come in, Jimmy.”
Jimmy looked at the sheet Perry still held in his hand and gave a sad smile. “How’s CK doing?”
“You haven’t seen him?”
“I tried but I couldn’t get through the crowd.”
“He’s doing about as well as can be expected.”
“Is he- I mean, Superman hasn’t been seen around and I just wondered-”
“He’s laying low till he gets his powers back. I need you to run these names for me.” He fished the list he’d made out of his pocket and held it out to the younger man. “Everything you can find on them, financial records, everything. But” he held a finger up in warning. “No phone calls. Clark says our phones are bugged so we can’t use them for this until he can give us the all clear. And don’t show anyone what you’re working on. Not even Lois.”
He caught the look of distaste on the copy boy’s face. “Never thought I’d live to see Lois side against Superman,” he remarked.
“Me neither, kid. Me neither,” Perry muttered to himself as Jimmy left the room.
***
Wayne Irig pulled his battered old F-150 into the Kent’s driveway and stood on the brakes in surprise.
The area in front of the old farmhouse was covered in cars; mostly rentals from the look of them, he decided. Probably from the airport up in Wichita. The verandah of the house itself was knee-deep in what he instinctively marked down as city folk. Hauling himself out of the truck, he grabbed the well-oiled hunting rifle he kept between the seat and the door and strode purposefully to the bottom of the verandah steps.
“What do you all think you’re doin’?” he demanded, making sure to keep the rifle barrel pointed at the ground. He could hear the faint gasps as the strangers closest to him took in the .30 he held. “You’re trespassin’ on private property.”
“We’re looking for the people that own this farm,” one of the bolder men closer to the door spoke up.
“They’ve gone away for awhile. I’m lookin’ after the place till they get back. Now get outta here before I call the sheriff.” He raised the gun a little for emphasis, grimly amused when the ones closer to him recoiled. He stood his ground while the crowd filed past him, edging away from the rifle as they got to the bottom of the stairs, and waited till the last of them had gotten in their shiny cars and driven off before tramping across the yard to the barn. He took care of the animals, keeping the rifle close and one ear out for the sound of vehicles returning, before getting back in his truck and turning it towards town.
***
Wayne brought the truck to a halt in a parking space on the fringes of the town square and swung down from the cab, grumbling to himself as he took in the number of unfamiliar cars he could see dotted around the square. Only time Smallville usually saw this kind of traffic was at Corn Festival time, and he had a shrewd idea that these strangers were more like the ones he’d chased off the Kent’s farm.
Reaching the county sheriff's office, he pushed the door open and was taken aback by the level of noise in the usually quiet building. Deputies swarmed all over the bullpen, moving with purpose and directed by Sheriff Harris.
Since his run-in with that madman, Trask, a few months ago, he’d been wary of government types. But Rachel Harris was a different story. He’d known her father. Actually, when he thought about it, he’d known her grandfather too. She glanced up from the paper she was holding and spotted him, nodding to let him know that she’d get to him as soon as she could. Sending the last deputy off on his assignment, she came over to him.
“Mr Irig. What can I do for you?”
“You look like you got your hands full.”
“Town’s swarming with reporters and rubberneckers.”
“Yeah, well that’s what I came to tell you. I had to chase a bunch of ‘em off the Kent’s farm a little while ago.”
She swore under her breath, turning and yelling to a deputy in the back of the bullpen to get a cruiser and head out to the farm.
“At this rate, I’m gonna have to swear in a bunch of new deputies,” she commented.
“It’s only gonna get worse,” Wayne responded darkly. They exchanged a look, both grimly aware that their sleepy little Kansas town may not ever be the same.
