Clark lay nestled in the strong arms of Superman as the hero speed across the land. Where they were going, Clark wasn’t sure, but he realized that he was enjoying the sensation of flying. He hadn’t thought that he would. Incoherent as he’d been flying to and from Kansas a few months prior, he felt like he’d disliked being on the airplane. But this was different, somehow. Without the tight, narrow confines of the plane around him, Clark felt free. He liked the sensation of having nothing between himself and the clouds.
“Hold on,” Superman said to him, but Clark didn’t so much hear the Man of Steel’s voice as he got a mental image of the words being spoken. He had no idea if the hero has spoken with a deep, authoritative voice or a meek, quiet one.
“Where are we going?” he asked, shouting to be heard over the rush of wind that surrounded them.
Superman’s hold tightened almost imperceptibly. “To remember.”
He headed straight for the center of a storm cloud. Darkness enveloped Clark, nearly blinding him. The only thing he could see were flashes of lightning all around him, dancing and writhing about him like frenzied dervishes. Clark cried out in alarm, but Superman didn’t react. He simply kept moving forward, bringing Clark into the center of the tempest. Another searing flash of light. Another deafening boom of thunder. Another coil of dread deep in Clark’s stomach.
“Go back!” Clark screamed. “This is insanity! You’ll kill me!”
The so-called hero didn’t answer and Clark was electrocuted in the next breath. Pure power ripped through Clark’s mortal body, tearing him apart and building him into something new at the same time. He felt every atom of his body tingling with the raw electricity of the white-hot lightning. He yelled again, this time in pain rather than fear. Still Superman kept moving him forward through the squall.
Clark had to fight for every inch of progress he made. The storm wanted to destroy him, almost as if it were a living, hateful thing. He screamed and gnashed his teeth, he gripped onto shreds of cloud that melted away at his touch. But as each cry died away, he was struck anew and the cycle began again. It felt like he’d circled the Earth a dozen times by the time he finally broke free of the thick black cloud and out into the blue sky again.
He sighed and his body sagged with relief as he sped away from the massive storm. He felt his face burning with rage and he twisted his neck to look up at Superman. He would let loose his fury on the so-called friend of his…the man who’d allowed Clark to rot in a prison cell and be tortured for two decades. But when he looked, the torrent of anger died in his throat and turned to confusion.
Superman was gone!
Clark panicked and scrambled for purchase in the air, but found nothing. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the fall he knew was coming. But it didn’t come and Clark realized after a tense few moments that he himself was flying. Confusion washed over him, then pure fear, then tentative acceptance, and finally exhilaration. He stretched out his body on his stomach to his full length, putting his arms before him as though they would steer him through the now cloudless blue sky. Instinct took over as he went faster, then slower, made loops, zoomed left and right, ascended and descended as he came to learn what he could and could not do.
Suddenly, he was aware that the scenery had changed again. He saw Lois and himself being flung from an airplane while a man in seemingly military attire looked on with hard-set features and a look of triumph. The next thing he knew, he was in the arctic, screaming out some frustration or another. He blinked and he was in space, staring down an asteroid. He tried to brace for impact as he sped toward it, but it hit him like a steam train and sent him reeling. When he at last recovered his wits, he was high above flat farmlands as far as the eye could see, all of it bathed in the warm golden light of a fading summer day. Fields of corn waved in the light breeze as if greeting him. He smiled to himself, feeling like he was home. But in the next second the cornfields ended and he was floating outside an apartment building where hushed voices were talking inside, but they sounded like the adults in the old Charlie Brown cartoons – nothing more than an unintelligible “wah-wah” noise. As he tried to make sense of it, he found himself racing an old steam locomotive on a stretch of track through a sleepy town. He entered a tunnel and came out the other side a moment later, right into the middle of a rocket launch…
Clark awoke panting heavily and in a cold sweat. He sat up immediately and rubbed at his eyes, wondering what the heck his dream had been about. Or had it meant anything at all? Had it all been conjured up by his imagination as he still struggled with gaping holes in his memory? He fisted his hands in frustration. Halloween had come and gone and November was almost halfway over. He’d now been free of his Arkham prison for eleven months. And still his memories were spotty at best, though he had to admit that he’d made a lot of progress since he’d started to heal. There were now childhood memories mixed into the bits of his past that had eluded him for so long. But Clark knew there was something missing still. Something that would tie the loose ends together, bridge some of the gaps, and complete him so that he didn’t feel like he was missing a part of his soul.
Shaking off the remnants of his nightmare, he checked the clock on his nightstand. It was just after eight in the morning. While his sleep hadn’t been as restful as it could have been, Clark decided to start the day. He showered quickly and then dressed. The long, hot summer had long since abated and now the city air was crisp and cool, with the threat of colder temperatures still to come. He chose an ash gray thermal style long sleeve shirt and a thick pair of black sweatpants, then he went and put on the faux pair of glasses Lois insisted he wear for some reason. He still didn’t understand why that was when he could see perfectly fine without them. But Lois was adamant that he wear them, though she was vague on why, only stating that the public was used to seeing him with glasses and that he should get used to them. At first, he’d only conceded to do so when they were going outside of the house – to see Dr. Klein usually. But as they’d spent more and more time out in the backyard or taking quiet afternoon strolls in the nearby park, he’d gotten used to the pretend frames and had gotten into the habit of wearing them inside the house as well.
“Maybe she just likes a man in glasses,” he quipped to himself as he turned the mystery over in his mind once more. He shrugged as he checked his appearance in the mirror.
He crept out of his room and gingerly made his way down the stairs to the kitchen. Along with some of his memories returning, he’d rediscovered that he’d once been a decent cook. He decided to make a few breakfast burritos for Lois and himself to share before day got started in earnest. Not two minutes after he was done prepping the ingredients, Lois joined him in the kitchen.
“Morning,” she greeted him as she stepped into the room.
“Morning, Lois,” he said back with a grin as he scrambled the eggs and got the pan hot and ready.
“Sleep well?” she asked. She always did and Clark found it endearing.
“Well…” he waffled.
“More memories?” she asked with eager interest as he added the cheese, peppers, and bacon bits into the egg.
“I…I’m not really sure,” he admitted as he poured the egg mixture into the pan and immediately set to work ensuring that it cooked properly.
Lois nodded in understanding. It wasn’t uncommon for Clark to dream of something or think of something and then look to her to confirm if it might be shreds of memories trying to find their place in the unfinished puzzle that was his mind.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered. She never pressed him to spill all of the details of his dreams if he didn’t want to.
Clark shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. “It was strange,” he finally said as the random bits of dream coalesced into something more tangible that he could speak about. But something stopped him from diving right in and talking about the storm he’d flown through. “Lois?” he asked instead.
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?” he hedged.
“Anything, you know that,” she softly encouraged as he slid the egg out of the pan and set the next batch to cooking. He placed the egg on the flat wrap and brought it to Lois. “Thanks,” she acknowledged.
“I guess it’s kind of an awkward question,” he said as he retreated to the stove to watch the new egg mixture cook. “But…it’s about Superman.”
***
“Superman?” Lois’ eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “I…was under the impression that you hated him.”
Hated was an understatement. Clark had flat out refused to listen to tales of the Man of Steel, nor had he read any articles about the hero, nor had he allowed Lois to even speak that name aloud in his presence. The very idea of Superman sent Clark into a near-rage. He still blamed the hero for his imprisonment – or at least for his imprisonment lasting as long as it had. After he’d learned that Superman was supposedly his friend, he’d denounced the Kryptonian any time his name was brought up in conversation. In Clark’s still very fractured mind, it didn’t make any sense why Superman would allow a friend of his to be locked up and tortured for two decades.
“I do,” Clark said through gritted teeth as he manipulated the cooking eggs. “But…I need to know…you said we used to be friends, before he abandoned me to…whatever it was that brought me to Arkham.”
Lois nodded warily. “You were as close as two people can get,” she said softly.
“So…I must have gone flying with him on at least a few occasions then?” Clark asked, clearly looking for confirmation.
Again she nodded, trying to puzzle out where he was coming from. “Yes…” she offered, dragging the word out.
“A lot?” Clark asked, transferring the cooked egg to his own plate and wrap. He brought it to the table and doused the inside with hot sauce before rolling it up to eat.
Lois winced at the amount of hot sauce. Just the smell of it had her eyes watering. Of course, it wouldn’t affect Clark, his invulnerable taste-buds, or his iron stomach. Even if he hadn’t had the benefit of his Kryptonian genes, Lois had tasted Jonathan Kent’s Five Alarm Chili. Clark would have developed a cast iron stomach with or without his unique origins.
“A fair amount,” she answered carefully. “We both got into…a lot of scrapes during our time as partners for the Daily Planet. He helped us out of quite a few jams.”
“But disappeared when I needed him most,” Clark grumbled as he took a bite of his breakfast. He chewed, swallowed, and sighed.
“Why so interested all of a sudden?” Lois asked, trying her best to make it sound casual.
“I…last night…I dreamt of flying with him,” Clark admitted slowly, as if it pained him to admit the words. “It’s not the first time. I’ve had other flying dreams. Last night was just…the most intense one yet. But the thing is…I always start off flying with Superman. And I know it’s him…I’ve seen the photos. But, after I recognize that I’m flying with him, he always disappears. I never see him leave. One moment he’s there and the next…gone.” He snapped his fingers like a magician making a rabbit disappear. “And I’m left alone…flying on my own.” He shook his head. “Weird…I know.”
“Are you…afraid…? When you find out you’re flying under your own power?” Lois asked, tamping down the spark of hope in her heart that maybe, just maybe, Clark was finally remembering.
“At first…yes,” Clark confided, after another generous bite of his breakfast. “But once the shock wears off…it feels…kind of good.” A gossamer smile just barely touched his lips.
“And do you find it…weird that you’re flying by yourself in these dreams?” she pressed.
He shook his head again. “No. It feels…like I was always meant to do it. But…last night was different,” he quickly amended. “Superman took me through an electrical storm. I was struck over and over with lightning so intense it was like Dr. Fulton’s electroshock treatment all over again.” Absently, he rubbed his temples with his hands as he spoke, as if feeling the electricity being shot through his body at that very moment. “Then he abandoned me. I flew for a while until I saw all of these random images.”
“Random images?” Lois asked, half holding her breath in hopes they were shards of memory and not conjured up by his imagination.
Quickly, Clark listed the things he’d seen. “In all of them, I got the sense that Superman should have been there. But he wasn’t,” he said disdainfully.
“Clark? Was there…anything else that you can recall about those…memories?” she asked carefully.
He shook his head. “Not much. The feeling of flying was pretty strong, but, other than that…” He shrugged as his voice trailed off. “So…did I? You know. Fly with him a lot.”
Lois scratched the back of her neck as she thought how best to answer his question. “It’s…complicated,” she finally settled on.
“What’s complicated about it? Either I flew a lot while we were still friends, or I didn’t,” Clark said, a quizzical expression on his face.
Lois sighed. “Do you trust me?” she asked, instead of answering him.
“You know I do,” Clark replied, but he looked worried at her change of topic.
“And you know I wouldn’t lie to you,” she continued.
He nodded warily. “Yes….” he said, dragging the word out in hesitation.
“The thing is…there’s something I haven’t told you yet. I was hoping you’d remember on your own but…” She sighed again. “I think these dreams are trying to give you what you’re missing.”
“Maybe I don’t want to remember Superman,” Clark said flatly.
“You need to!” Lois said, a bit louder and more animated than she’d meant to. She cleared her throat and tried again. “It’s important that you do.”
“Why? So I can remember how he let me down?” Clark scoffed. “No thanks.”
“He didn’t let you down,” she replied carefully.
“Well he sure as heck didn’t help,” Clark volleyed back, annoyed and troubled. “Look, Lois, I know you mentioned that you and he were friends, but that doesn’t mean I have to keep living in a fantasy land where I’m supposed to pretend that he wasn’t there when I needed him the most.”
“Clark! He couldn’t be there!” Lois pressed. She shut her eyes for a moment, gathering her courage, then opened them and made the plunge. “You are Superman.”
The words came out firm, but low. She let them be neutral – neither an accusation nor a press for him to accept the truth. It had been a simple statement of fact.
Clark recoiled like she’d slapped him. “That’s not true,” he said.
Lois shook her head at his denial. He wasn’t pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He truly didn’t know.
“Yes, you are,” she softly countered. “I found out about it after you went missing,” she explained. “Your parents confirmed it. That’s when I knew something really, really bad must have happened to you. Superman does not just go missing and stay that way. I can only guess that something happened to you to rob you of your powers. You mentioned a green cage a while back in one of your nightmares. I’m guessing there was some exposure to Kryptonite and it stole your ability to save yourself.”
“No…” Clark said, standing up from his chair and denying the truth. “There’s no way I’m Superman. I’m just a boring, average guy. I mean, if I were Superman, wouldn’t I have…powers? I’ve got nothing, Lois.”
“You do have them, even if you can’t remember them,” Lois told him, trying to placate the wild, scared, angry look in his eyes. “But, if you let me, I can help you remember them.”
“I’m not Superman!” Clark fairly roared, stepped backward, toppling the chair over as he did so. “You…you’re lying to me! After I trusted you!” With that, he fled from the room.
Lois sat stunned for a moment before rising from her chair and chasing after him. But Clark had moved fast, even without his super speed. Before she’d even left the kitchen, she heard the front door slam shut. She started to run, squashing down the useless instinct to call out after him. She hurled herself out the front door as soon as she reached it, scanning up and down the sidewalk, looking for him, but he must have been running. She saw no sign of him.
“Oh no,” she muttered miserably, her stomach sinking and the breakfast burrito inside it threatening to make a reappearance. She ducked back into the house to throw on her shoes and grab her purse and car keys. She only hoped she picked the right direction when she climbed behind the wheel of her Jeep.
“This is a disaster,” she moaned to herself.
Clark was somewhere in Metropolis, alone, angry, and missing half his memories.
***
Clark didn’t stop running for a long while. He took no notice of what direction he’d fled in, his need to be away from such blatant lies too strong to allow him to even plot where he was going. Now, as he paused at an intersection to catch his breath, he wasn’t sure where he was.
You’re lost, idiot, he berated himself.
I’m not lost, I can backtrack the way I came from, he tried to reassure himself, but he wasn’t entirely convinced of the truth of that. He really hadn’t been paying any mind to his surroundings as he’d run, making random turns down random blocks in an effort to throw Lois off his track if that liar was in pursuit. And he knew she had to be.
You can’t even hail a cab back to Lois’, his mind moodily hissed at him. You have no money, no credit card, nothing.
He shook his head, feeling sheepish. He really should have planned this better. But the past was in the past and there was nothing he could do to change that.
I don’t want to go back, he stubbornly insisted to himself. She was lying to me to protect her so-called friend. After all we’ve been through since I was rescued and she’s lying to me. No…I can’t go back.
But, if that was true, where could he go? The question ate away at him while he leaned against the corner of the brick building. It was a coffee shop and the most delicious smells were wafting out of it. He would have loved to have gone in, gotten one of the croissants he was smelling and a strong cup of coffee. But, as he stuck his hands into his pockets, he was once again made painfully aware of the fact that he had no money on him. He hadn’t even stopped to grab his jacket and he chalked up the fact that he wasn’t cold to all the running he’d done.
His mother would have scolded him for not having a jacket. Suddenly, Clark snapped his fingers. That was it! His mother! She would know what to do! All he needed was a phone…
Clark looked this way and that, dismayed. In the twenty years he’d been shackled away from society, things had really changed. Everyone carried a phone in their pocket now. Not a single payphone was to be seen, where once they had seemed to be on every corner and outside every restaurant. His plan to make a collect call died before it was even hatched. Did collect calls even exist in this new and unfamiliar world he’d been thrust into?
He sighed. So much for his bright idea, he mused with a shake of his head. Not that it mattered much, he supposed. His mother was in Kansas…
“No, she’s not,” he remembered suddenly. “She said she was coming into the city when I talked to her the other night.” He frowned. His mother was planning on staying at Lois’ house. Which meant if he wanted to talk to her, he’d have to go back.
Sulking, he turned around and walked back the way he’d come, or at least he hoped it was the path he’d taken…
It wasn’t the way he’d come.
He got lost half a dozen times, winding up on streets he didn’t recognize or, once, down a dead end. He nearly got clipped by a bike messenger to boot as the young man had gone flying down the sidewalk, rather than in the street like he was supposed to. Hours passed and Clark was starting to worry. He didn’t want to face Lois and her lies, but he hated the terrifying feeling of being lost in a city that he should have known like the back of his hand. It only drove home how much he was still missing and the thought both scared and depressed him.
“I shouldn’t have stormed out,” he grumbled to himself, his head hanging low, but still taking in the alien world around him.
A thought struck him then, as he looked at a shoe store on the corner of Tannenbaum Avenue. He had this nagging thought that the corner store and its unique windows looked vaguely familiar. Had it once been a diner? Or had it been a toy store? Either way, he was certain, somehow, that it hadn’t been a shoe store the last time he’d been this way, some twenty years prior. How many other stores had changed since then? How much would he recognize in Metropolis even if he hadn’t had his past stolen away by a barbaric doctor with a couple of electrodes?
Feeling even more hopeless than before, he kept walking. Three blocks and two more wrong turns later, he happened upon a young police officer. Quickly, Clark crossed the street to where the officer was leaning against a telephone pole, sipping from a steaming Dunkin Donuts cup. The officer looked up just as Clark drew near.
“Can I help you?” he offered pleasantly.
“I…uh…hope so. I’m…not familiar with the city and I got a bit lost,” Clark sheepishly admitted, toeing the ground in his embarrassment.
“Where are you trying to get to?” the policeman asked kindly.
“Hyperion Avenue,” Clark replied without hesitation, glad he could remember at least that much.
The officer smiled. “You’re not far.”
“Glad to hear it,” Clark remarked, meaning every word. He was more than ready to get back to his nice, familiar surroundings.
“You know what? I’m headed that way myself,” the man said, looking Clark up and down as if sizing him up. He pushed himself away from the pole. “I can take you there.”
Clark sighed with relief. “Thank you. I’d really appreciate that.”
“Come on. It’s just two blocks down,” the officer said, waving to Clark as he started down the sidewalk.
Clark nodded and found himself making small talk with the policeman as they walked. He was curious about what changes had been made since he was last allowed to wander freely in the city, and he asked the officer about various buildings and stores. But the man couldn’t have been much above the age of twenty-eight or thirty, and he confessed to Clark that he was too young to remember most of the places Clark asked about. After the first block, Clark shut his mouth in contemplative silence.
It took all of fifteen minutes before Clark finally caught sight of Lois’ street. He tried to thank the officer and be on his own way, but the polite young man insisted on walking Clark all the way to the front of Lois’ house. Then, before Clark could say another word, Lois pulled up in her car – a silver Jeep that reminded Clark a lot of the one she’d driven way back when they’d first met, though of course, this one was much newer. She threw the car into park in the first available space and then flung herself outside, rushing to Clark.
“Oh, God! Clark! Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you! And the police…?” she rambled. She tried to hug him but he brushed off her advances.
“I’m fine,” Clark said, shrugging off her concern, still feeling betrayed by her lies about Superman. “This kind officer helped me find my way back, that’s all. It’s not like I got caught graffitiing or shoplifting or something,” he added angrily.
Lois looked like she was about to give him a huge piece of her mind, but she swallowed down whatever she was going to say and, instead, thanked the policeman. Then she guided Clark into the house, where Martha was pacing the living room. At the sound of the door opening, she turned and Clark could see the relief flooding her face. She crossed the room in a flash; Clark was constantly amazed at how quickly she could move for someone of her age. She threw her arms around him.
“I was so worried when I arrived and Lois was heading out to look for you,” she told him. “Why on Earth did you run off?”
“Ask Lois,” he grumbled, raising a hand to gesture at his friend.
Martha turned with a questioning look to Lois. Clearly, she hadn’t had enough time to gather the whole story. But she didn’t need to utter a word.
“Clark’s been having dreams about Superman,” Lois explained quietly. “About flying.”
Something was funny about the way she said ‘flying,’ though Clark couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “He asked me about Superman and…I told him the truth.”
“That he’s Superman,” Martha said, closing her eyes with the weight of that knowledge.
“No, she lied to me and said I was Superman,” Clark snapped. “She knows how much I hate him for abandoning me and then she tries to make me believe I’m that pathetic loser?”
“Clark, she’s not lying,” Martha told him, leveling him with a steely gaze.
“Pfft,” Clark blew her off. “There’s no way I can be Superman. I have no powers. I was locked up in Arkham Asylum! I think if I were Superman, I could have, oh I don’t know, knocked a hole in the wall big enough to walk through.”
“Clark Jerome Kent!” Martha snapped in the disciplinary tone that Clark hadn’t heard since he was a child. “Sit down, knock off the attitude, and listen to us!”
“Why would I listen Lois spin a bunch of mean-spirited lies?” he wondered acidly.
“Call Lois a liar one more time and you won’t be too old for me to tan your hide like a piece of cheap leather,” his mother threatened.
Clark flinched, suddenly feeling like a little kid again. He grudgingly sat but he crossed his arms petulantly. There was no chance he was going to entertain a pack of lies. “Do these look like the types of injuries the Man of Steel can suffer from?” he asked coldly, lifting his shirt enough to expose the long, wormy white lines of scar tissue on his chest and back.
“If he were exposed to Kryptonite and made vulnerable, yes,” Martha immediately replied in a hard tone. Then, softer, “Look, Clark, I know it’s not easy to reconcile. But you are Superman.” She sat down next to him on the couch and put a hand on his shoulder. “You just don’t remember it.”
“Because there’s nothing to remember!” Clark insisted, gesturing vaguely.
“Then why are you dreaming about flying?” Lois asked smugly.
Clark shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not that uncommon a dream, is it?” The rhetorical question had been meant as a challenge, not as a true question.
“You always said flying was your favorite ability,” Martha calmly explained.
“That’s convenient,” Clark muttered, not quite under his breath.
“Martha, nothing is going to make him believe us unless we prove it to him,” Lois said, ignoring his brooding mood.
Martha nodded. “You’re right.”
Clark rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing to prove!”
“Shut up,” Lois commanded in a tone he’d never heard come from her before.
To his own amazement, he found himself closing his mouth on the retort that was boiling on his tongue.
“Good,” Lois commented in the same tone. “Now…Martha, how did you and Jonathan help him when his abilities first starting making themselves known?”
Martha sighed. “It was a long process, but he had to learn control, back then. He always said that once he learned control, keeping it got to be second nature.”
“So, it’s possible he’s just subconsciously got a tight rein on them right now, simply because he doesn’t remember he’s even got these powers,” Lois said thoughtfully turning over the information in her mind. “Okay, so…we should be fine in just…coaxing them back out. I think.”
“I hope so,” Martha said, chewing her lower lip in worry.
“Okay,” Lois repeated, “the question is…how?”
Martha thought for a moment before answering. “I think flight is the safest way to go.”
Lois nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Clark rolled his eyes again. “I can’t fly any more than you can,” he insisted.
“Close your eyes,” Martha instructed, giving him a look that dared him to argue. He bit his tongue against replying and did as he was told. “Good. Now, I want you to clear your mind. Forget about us. Forget about Superman. I want you to think about those dreams…the ones in which you’re flying.”
“With the traitor or on my own?” Clark asked, unable to resist the barb.
“On your own,” Lois answered, not taking the bait. Her voice was calm, soothing, much like Martha’s.
“The sky is blue, endless, stretched out before you,” Martha said, directing the mental image she wanted him to picture. “You’re weightless. You stretch your hand out to one side to touch a wispy puff of white cloud as you float by. It’s cold and wet to the touch but it means next to nothing to you. You’re just completely relaxed as you lazily float on. You have no cares, nothing to tie you to the ground. Can you feel it?”
Clark did the best he could and let his mother’s voice carry him away. He had to. If he continued to mouth off, he knew there would be hell to pay later. Martha Kent was the world’s sweetest mother, but she could also be roused to warrior-mode, as he’d seen on a few occasions that he could actually remember.
“Clark…open your eyes,” Lois instructed, her voice soft. “Slowly,” she added before he could so much as crack one eyelid open.
Again, humoring her, he did, but when the waking world was before his eyes again, things didn’t look quite right. He was suspended in the air a good two feet above their heads. He panicked for a moment, lost his concentration on the images Martha had called up in his mind, and crashed down on the floor behind the couch with such a force he probably would have cracked the couch in two if he’d landed on it.
He scrambled backward for a foot or so as he tried to make sense of what had just happened, his mouth hanging open and his brain whirring. He tried for a long moment to speak, but nothing came out of his flapping lips. He shook his head and tried again.
“What…just happened?” he finally managed to get out.
Lois arched an eyebrow. “Now do you believe you’re Superman?”
To Be Continued…
