Hate Myself For Loving YouFolc4evernaday
Chapter 17: Beautiful Disaster
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Perry White set his reading glasses down and waved the familiar Inspector inside his office as he finished jotting down a note from the voicemail he was listening to. After a quick scribble and a click of the phone on his desk he turned his attention to the Inspector who looked none too pleased to be sitting in his office at this late of an hour. Perry let out an uneasy sigh, folding his hands in front of him. “I, uh, thanks for coming down, Bill. I got your call and well, frankly I figured this would be best discussed in person.”
“Well, I appreciate the face to face approach whenever I can, Mr. White.” Henderson remarked, taking a seat in the chair across from him.
“Well, good,” Perry nodded, unsure where to begin. “You mentioned there was an investigation into how the Planet broke the McCarthy story?”
“Not exactly,” Henderson shook his head, tapping nervously with his hand on his knee. “The investigation was completed and as far as the Metropolis P.D. was concerned there was no case.”
“I didn’t realize there was even an investigation,” Perry remarked, trying to maintain a friendly demeanor with the inspector as he spoke.
“As a rule, whenever we receive information from an outside source the Metropolis P.D. goes in and fact checks everything to be sure our information is accurate and make sure our case doesn’t fall apart once charges are pressed.”
“Understandable,” Perry nodded feeling himself relax ever so slightly. “But I’m still not understanding where the problem is.”
“Well, the Metropolis P.D. found no issues but the ADA did.” Henderson frowned as he looked back at Perry. “I haven’t heard anything from the judge’s clerk on whether the request for a warrant will be approved or not.”
“But you just said…”
“If the ADA thinks there is a case then there’s nothing the Metropolis P.D. can do, Perry.” Henderson explained calmly. “Now, Judge Thompson is one of your more fair judges but there is a chance this could end with Lois Lane charged with obstruction.”
“I don’t understand what the ADA might be seeing as obstruction,” Perry shook his head in despair. “Lois and Clark were working on this case with the ADA and the DEA. What could Lois have possibly done that could be seen as obstruction?”
“She does like to bend the rules from time to time, Perry,” Henderson reminded him gently.
“Did she bend them in this instance?” Perry challenged.
“Not that I can tell.”
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Lois let out a long sigh as her head hit the pillow, rolling over on her side as the weight of the fatigue from the day pressured her to give into the sleep she had been putting off for most of the evening. The stress from the day and the previous days continued to weigh on her as her mind recollected the short trip to Smallville. Though she had visited before, this time had been different. The guarded walls that she hadn’t even realized had been carefully placed during her last visit had disappeared.
She thought back to her conversation with Martha. It was easy to see just where Clark had gotten his friendly nature. After talking with her for an hour, she felt as if she’d known her all of her life. A strange feeling for her given the only woman she had ever allowed to get close to her was her younger sister, Lucy. Martha Kent was certainly no Lucy, but she certainly had an uncanny ability to make those around her feel at ease.
Much like Clark.
Though she had spent much of the time since Clark’s revelation obsessing about the things she hadn’t noticed, she found herself in awe of the stories – the real stories that were coming to light after the revelation. Talking openly about Clark learning to fly or fighting villains over a poisonous rock that the world could never know existed. This was what it was like to be one of the few people that knew the truth about Clark Kent.
Holding the secrets close and seeing a side to him and those close to him that no one would ever see. A slow smile spread across her face as she drifted into the sweet reverie of sleep, allowing her mind to escape the stresses of the day and disappear behind the welcoming fog of fatigue that had teased her for the past several hours.
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The streets of Metropolis were quiet as Sean McCarthy took a long puff from the cigarette between his lips. He watched from his vantage point on the roof of the Daily Planet. He had a perfect bird’s eye view of the City Hall steps. A sly smile crossed his lips as he watched his target storm out the double doors of the building. He held a hand on the remote in his hand, waiting for just the right moment…
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“You have no case for obstruction!” Michael Clemmons slammed his fist against the door in front of him as he tossed the warrant application Mayson had submitted to Judge Thompson’s office in her direction. “What were you thinking trying something like this without discussing it with me first?”
“Why so you can try and talk me out of it?” Mayson scoffed, shaking her head and waving him off. “I have a case. Lois Lane has done this one too many times and this time it cost us a witness.”
“You’re reaching so far you aren’t even in the same district, Mayson,” Clemmons accused her, wagging his index finger at her angrily. “You are going to muddy up the reputation of this office pulling stunts like this.”
“This office is supposed to be putting criminals away.”
“Criminals,” Clemmons stressed. “Someone who has broken the law. You have nothing here. All I see is an angry ADA who is lashing out at a reporter that’s just a little too close to the case that blew up in her face because she couldn’t get her act together.”
“It did not blow up in my face!” Mayson spat back through gritted teeth.
“Agent Scardino submitted a report citing erratic and irrational behavior from you, Mayson. Are you going to file charges against him too?” Clemmons challenged with a narrow gaze. “You need to get yourself some help.”
The last accusation was met with a slap across Clemmons face. His hand reflexively reached for his face to cover the sting from her assault on him. He let out a low growl, “Scardino was right. You are crazy.” He narrowed his eyes at her and spat out, “You’re done.”
Mayson fumed angrily as she glared back at Clemmons, storming past him as she felt a rumble beneath her feet. She felt her breath catch in her throat as she felt heat surround her and the onslaught of a rocky rainstorm collapsing on her. She let out a cry for help as she looked behind her and saw the building, she’d been standing in the doorway of just moments ago crumbling and in flames.
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Sirens blared through the streets echoing around the hospital as Clark stared numbly at the chaos unfolding around him. Doctors and nurses had piled in on top of the gurneys that had been wheeled in the emergency room. Twelve. There had been twelve bodies caught in the explosion tonight.
Twelve.
“We got a pulse!” one of the nurses called out as he spotted the bloodied and bruised body of Mayson Drake be wheeled through the double doors.
He stared numbly at the double doors, uncertain what to do or say at that point. Everyone in the building had been unburied from the rubble. The fire from the blast that had taken down Metropolis’ City Hall down was out. He swallowed hard as he turned back to where he saw another blue sheet get pulled up over one of the gurneys.
The bodies.
The blood.
He swallowed hard as he backed away from the scene in front of him. He could see the faces in front of him – the paramedics and doctors asking him questions – but he couldn’t make out the words coming from them.
“Superman?”
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Lois felt a cool breeze rustle against her cheek and stirred from what she could only assume was a peaceful night’s sleep. Her eyes fluttered open and her gaze drifted to the side table where Clark’s digital clock read ‘1:45a.m.’ Fragments from the day came back to her as she sat up in bed, letting out a low moan as she swung her legs over the side of the bed preparing to make her way to the kitchen for a glass of water. She made it as far as the doorframe when she stopped, spotting the empty couch in the living room.
Just as quickly as the question of Clark’s whereabouts crossed her mind, it was answered with the soft bristle of the curtains by the backdoor where it appeared he had left through. A frown crossed her face as she padded toward the kitchen, wondering momentarily just how many times Clark was called away in the middle of the night to tend to a call for help.
She reached the kitchen and found the cabinet where Clark kept his glasses, pulling out a glass and taking it to the sink to fill up her glass. She let out a sigh as she brought the cool liquid to her lips and took a long gulp feeling the liquid quench her thirst.
A familiar sonic boom sounded from just outside the window, and Lois turned, catching a glimpse of the blurry red and blue pigments moving at a speed so fast she couldn’t make out a clear shape until Clark came to a stop in front of the window. She gave him a quick once over seeing him standing there in the same t-shirt and shorts from earlier. A frown crossed her face when she saw the ghost white expression on his face as he numbly wandered into the living room, sinking onto the couch in a daze. She set her empty glass next to the sink and made her way to him, unsure what to make of his uncharacteristic behavior.
“Clark? Everything okay?”
He gave a noncommittal shrug as she crossed the distance to the living room and took a seat next to him on the couch. “Fine. Just…another rescue.”
Her frown turned to worry as she watched him run a weary hand through his hair and sink down on the couch with just enough force to burst one of the pillows behind him. He shook his head, reaching over to toss the pillow on the floor.
Lois took a seat next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Clark?”
Clark shook his head, running his two weary hands up and down his face, unable to respond as he sat there, staring silently into the distance with a stoic expression. She reached her hand over, placing it on his knee and squeezing it in an attempt to get his attention. A stern grunt escaped his throat, and he looked back at her with a dismal expression.
He shook his head in despair. “I…didn’t get there in time.”
She bit her lower-lip, uncertain how to respond, “Didn’t get where?”
A hard frown covered his jawline as he leaned back against the couch, and numbly responded. “There was a … bomb. He didn’t make it.”
Lois leaned back next to him, trying to make sense of what he was trying to tell her – or not telling her. She quietly reached over to take his hand in hers. The torturous expression on Clark’s hit her like a punch to the gut. She leaned her head over, resting against his shoulder as she waited for him to find the words he seemed to be struggling with. The fatigue that had been weighing on her moments ago had disappeared.
She gently squeezed his hand, silently offering him her support as he turned toward her, reaching his hand over to cup her face, tracing the outline of her jaw with his thumb. She felt a flutter in her abdomen as she stared back at him, feeling an intoxicating pull that tugged at her insides, luring her closer and closer until the distance between them became too unbearable to endure. His lips found hers, and his hands buried themselves in her hair as she sank down into the couch, feeling herself melt beneath his touch.
Her hands reached up, cupping the sides of his face as he hovered over her, smoothing his lips over hers with his velvet touch. A shudder escaped the back of her throat as his lips moved across her jaw. Her hands moved up the sides of his face, feeling moisture from the tears that had trickled down his cheeks. A low moan escaped his throat, vibrating against her lips, and she felt him shudder beneath her touch. His lips sought hers out, each caress growing more insistent than the last as his body shuddered against hers. A low rumble escaped the back of his throat, and the moisture from his tears continued to trickle down.
Her hands moved up the sides of his face, brushing each tear away as she whispered muddled ramblings of reassurances to him. Feeling the vibration against her as his head hung down, resting in the crook between her shoulder and neck. Her right hand moved up the back of his head, holding him as the shocking vulnerability and despair continued to shake her to the core.
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The underground subway tunnels had a certain charm about them. Sean McCarthy tossed the butt of his cigarette into the ground, squashing the embers with the heel of his foot before making his way to the familiar corner where he was scheduled to report in. He never was one for taking orders, but when the money was this good and the freedom to stretch his creative and sinister nature was an added bonus—who was he to turn down a job that benefited both himself and the individual writing the checks.
“You’re late,” came a voice from behind him.
He turned with a startled jump and saw Rollie Vale leaned up against one of the brick columns, shaking his head as he straightened his shoulders and walked toward McCarthy. “Well, look who’s decided to join us mere mortals. Getting claustrophobic are we, Rollie?”
“That bomb was supposed to go off when the building was full,” Rollie growled, reaching over to snatch the remote from Sean’s shirt jacket. “Are you trying to draw attention to yourself, or is this incompetence just an added bonus?”
“The targets were neutralized,” Sean growled back at Rollie. “Clemmons won’t be poking his nose into anyone’s business ever again.”
“Yes, well, that’s not exactly how we envisioned taking him out of the picture, Mr. McCarthy,” a British accented voice came from the corner, and a man in all black with a white goatee stepped forward. “So, glad you could join us, Mr. McCarthy. I was beginning to wonder if you had negated on our deal.”
McCarthy gave a noncommittal shrug, “I’m a man of my word.”
“Yes, except when it comes to following specific instructions regarding an assassination on a public official.” The man with the British accent vaguely shrugged McCarthy off.
“Clemmons is dead, and I’m sure Drake is on her way to joining him. No one could have survived that blast.” McCarthy added smugly.
The man in black stared coldly at McCarthy for a long moment, seeming to contemplate something before he turned on his heel and begin barking out orders. “You do excellent work, Mr. McCarthy. Your cooperation in the takedown of Dr. Gables and his minions has helped instill a certain level of support from those with deep pockets and who hold your work in high regard. That being said, it is disappointing to find you straying from the original plan in how to remove the District Attorney from office along with his conspiring officials.”
“My orders were Clemmons and Drake,” McCarthy growled back. “I always follow through.”
“And the reporter?” Rollie Vale challenged with a snort. “You seem to be getting your kicks out of the threats, but when exactly are you going to shut her up? This entire operation has been shut down thanks to this investigation into the Medical Examiner’s office and the local prison.”
“Patience, Mr. Vale,” the man with the British accent chastised. “We mustn’t rush these things.”
“I’ve been waiting to take this thorn in my side down since I was arrested. I have no intention of just sitting back and doing nothing.” Rollie argued bitterly.
“Now, see there is your problem, Mr. Vale. You can’t expect revenge to come so willingly. It must be wooed and drawn out then extracted at just the right moment.”
“And who exactly is deciding on what the right moment is, hmm, Nigel?” Rollie challenged as he glared back at the man in black. “I was promised a new identity and enough money to start over. Slinking around in the shadows wasn’t part of the deal.”
“All in good time, Mr. Vale,” Nigel responded smugly. “Ms. Lane will meet her demise along with those responsible for the miscarriage of justice that befell this city.” He turned to McCarthy and added, “Revenge is so much sweeter when you draw it out.”
“I still don’t see the point in spooking her and ADA. She’s got to know she’s being watched, and that’s not doing us any good to have a patrol on her all the time.” Rollie growled bitterly.
“No, but prolonging the torture with threats makes the end that much sweeter.” McCarthy let out a sinister chuckle.
Nigel handed Rollie an envelope and then handed another one to McCarthy, “Orders from our benefactor are to continue watching Ms. Lane and increase the threats, but nothing more. For now. We do have to discuss the matter of the traitor, Albie Swanson….”
TBC...
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