Hate Myself For Loving YouFolc4evernaday
Chapter 21: Crash Into Me________________________________________
Sean McCarthy paced nervously in the dark subway tunnels, shoving his hands into the deep pockets of his flannel jacket. He let out a labored breath as a cough tickled his throat, escaping as a partial wheeze. He cleared his throat, trying to rid his throat of the sensation and turned to the corridor, waiting for a sign of Nigel and Rollie Vale’s return. He had been promised safe passage out of the country in exchange for his services to Intergang.
With Albie Swanson in custody and no longer an imminent threat with his attempted deal with Munour falling through, there was no longer anything holding him in Metropolis. The longer he stayed, the more he risked his freedom. The threats against Lois Lane were enough to spook the reporter from furthering her investigation into Intergang. So far, since the threats had begun, she hadn’t lifted a finger to dig into the old Intergang files. It seemed spooking her and threatening her from afar had been just the gentle shove she needed to back off and let sleeping dogs lie.
It was time to pay up.
________________________________________
Nigel stepped out of the yellow cab he had been seated in, motioning for the driver to keep the car running as he carried a large duffle bag with him toward the back alley that led to the pristine red-bricked townhomes. He smiled t himself as he approached the green dumpster just outside the townhome with the imprint of ‘Drake’ in gold etching on the painted blue door. He lifted up the cover and fished out a shredded white pillow and dropped it into the dumpster. He pulled out a pair of black leather gloves and a switchblade from the bag and tossed them into the dumpster as well. Once he was done, he turned back to the entry of the alley where he had entered, whistling to himself as he approached the awaiting taxicab.
Without a word, he climbed back inside the cab and turned to the driver with one simple word, “Drive.”
________________________________________
‘I’m not crazy.’ The thought raced through Mayson Drake’s mind as she nursed the coffee cup in front of her. She waited patiently for the guards to call her name. She didn’t have a whole lot to go on, but she knew where to start. This had all started with the Gables case, so logic told her that that was where the connection was.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t extract any information out of Mary any longer, given her untimely death. Stanley Gables was refusing calls and visits from the DA’s office now that his case was set to go to trial and he had obtained counsel from the smarmy Barry Barker. There was still one individual she could turn to that was still within reach.
“Ms. Drake?”
Mayson looked up and saw the guard standing by the door leading to the visiting room with the prisoners. “Right here!” Mayson waved her hand in the air and approached with a smile across her face.
“Ms. Scott has been brought to the visitor’s room.” The guard pointed to the cup in her hand. “You’ll have to dispose of that, ma’am.”
“Of course,” Mayson nodded, tossing the coffee cup in the trash and walking through the metal detector for inspection. She took her visitor badge with the bright printed number on it and clipped it on her jacket and then followed the guard through the double doors leading to where Melissa Scott was being held.
‘I’m not crazy.’ She told herself as she reached the dark room where Melissa Scott was seated in a green and white jumpsuit, chained to a table.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Scott muttered when Mayson entered the room.
“You seem surprised to see me.”
“Well, I guess it’s not everyday you see a ghost around here, Ms. Drake.”
“Ghost?” Mayson crinkled her nose at the word.
“You are supposed to be dead from what I hear.”
Mayson frowned, “I survived.”
“So I see.”
“So let’s get down to it, shall we? Who are you working for?”
“What makes you think I work for anyone?”
“You seem to have a lot of incorrect information. You put your entire career at risk for a no-name like Stanley Gables. Why?”
“Why else? Money!” Scott scoffed at her. “You think the measly salary awarded to the ME’s office is any different than the DA’s office?”
“I think you’re way too cooperative of a witness.”
“And I think you’re just a little on the paranoid side, Ms. Drake.” Scott sneered back. “I hear that cold shoulder you got isn’t sitting too well with you. Seeing things? Making false accusations…. Tsk Tsk Tsk… You really should get yourself to Shady Brooke. I’m sure they’ve got a nice padded room with a view for you and your crazy…”
“Why you little…!”
“Ah, ah, ah, temper…temper…”
Mayson flew to her feet and slammed her fists on the table. “I will see you rot in here with every other lieutenant of Intergang and vile criminal I throw into the system. You think I’m crazy? Good! You have no idea what I’m capable of!”
________________________________________
Dr. Klyburn read through the report in front of her, frowning as the information loaded on her screen. She scrolled through the screen, and examined the request that had just come through from Metropolis P.D. She saw the priority was marked high and the case it was related to. She pulled the information from the request, opting to work on it herself rather than allow one of the lesser experienced techs work through the data analysis and possible scrubbing that might be required of the project.
She took note of the request number and assigned it to herself before making her way to the file bin, where the large stack of envelopes containing different objects retrieved from the bombing site were awaiting examination. She searched the file bin and retrieved the pack with the same request number on it and made her way back to her office to begin the analysis. She set the package down and slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, preparing to examine the contents.
She ripped open the package, gently coaxing the contents out, allowing it to fall into her palm. She frowned, noting the white light blinking from the small silver disk in her hand.
“Well, what do we have here?”
________________________________________
‘I’m not crazy.’The sting from the words Melissa Scott had used to taunt her with a mere few hours still rang in her ears as she turned the corner to the street where her townhome was. The unrelenting taunting from Melissa Scott was nothing but sour grapes. It was a vile criminal attempting to get under her skin. Nothing more.
‘What about Nigel St. John?’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘Is it?’The back and forth between her inner musings and the questions she continued to press herself for were getting her nowhere. She reached her hands up, gripping the sides of her head by the root of her hair, tugging the fistful of blonde curls as if to help shove her mind into the present and escape the feud that appeared to be taking place within her mind.
She could worry about this later.
Right now, she just needed to…
She stopped, feeling a chill run down her spine as she took the first step leading up to her front door. The plant on the corner was knocked over. There was soil covering the third step. She turned to where the front door was, noting that though the door was closed, it appeared to have been pried open or attempted to be opened with some heavy metal object. She could see the scratch marks on the frame outside her door.
She gently reached her hand out, turning the knob to test it, and sure enough, the door opened without any resistance. She stared at the spacious apartment, uncertain of what to think or do. She had to call the police. She fumbled through the bag on her shoulder, rummaging through its contents for her phone. She reached into the deep pockets, hunting for the familiar object but to no avail.
‘It’ll be fine,’ she promised herself, summing up the courage to cross the barrier between the front step and the threshold where her front door and foyer connected. From her vantage point, she couldn’t see anything that would cause any concern outside of the random objects put out of their place. There was really nowhere to hide in the main living area. It was nice and open and gave her a nice view into her home. An advantage she opted for when choosing the townhome.
She took a deep breath and entered her home, hearing the hard clank of her heels on the wooden floor. She moved through the living space noting everything out of place as she approached the phone plugged into the wall in the kitchen. A hard lump hit her throat when she noticed the box where she had kept everything she had gathered on Lois Lane was missing. Along with her box, her desktop computer and keys to her office were missing as well.
The anger and frustration at the situation grew as she punched the digits into the phone and dialed in the number she knew by heart. After a few rings, she heard the familiar voice on the other line. “Bill? I’m going to need you to send someone down here…Well, because someone broke into my apartment….”
________________________________________
Lois ran a hand through her dark strands looking across the table where Jimmy was seated, recounting his phone call with the doctor and his interview with the District Attorney’s office as a cooperating witness.
“So, what exactly did Dr. Golden say?” Dan Scardino asked, breaking the silence that had fallen after Jimmy had finished his recount of the events that had taken place over the evening and most of the morning.
Jimmy gave a quick look to Lois, silently asking for permission for him to divulge the information to the agent. Lois nodded to him, reassuring him that it was indeed safe for him to discuss everything with Scardino.
After pouring over the redacted files with Clark and Dan Scardino earlier, they had all come to the agreement they needed to bring Jimmy and Perry into the investigation. Jimmy’s life possibly being in jeopardy with the Valhalla project, forced their hand no matter which way they looked at it. Jimmy would only be able to protect himself if he knew all the facts – as painful as they might be.
Jimmy shrugged his shoulders, toying with the pen in front of him as he responded, “Not a whole lot. He wanted me to come down to the hospital and started rambling about some experiment at Fort Truman right before the killer shot him.”
Lois nodded, reaching her hand across the table to squeeze Jimmy’s, offering a silent sign of support as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.”
Jimmy gave her a weak smile, “You know, I’ve known Dr. Golden my whole life. I moved from base to base, but Dr. Golden – he was my constant, you know? Army brat and all that.”
“Dr. Golden, was your doctor at other bases?” Lois’ brow furrowed when he mentioned this tidbit of information.
“Yeah, he got transfers, or sometimes dad would just be coming through, and Dr. Golden would ask to do a check-up…” Jimmy frowned, seeming to notice the hesitancy in her tone. “Why?”
Lois looked down at the file in front of her, unsure where to begin. Finally, she just decided to rip off the band-aid, “Jimmy, your file was found with a confidential project file from the military for something called Valhalla.”
“What is that? Some sort of video game?” Jimmy asked, not following where she was going with this.
“Here,” Lois pushed the photocopies of the file to Jimmy to read through. “I made copies for you.”
The joking expression that had been on Jimmy’s face disappeared as he opened the file and began reading.
“We thought you’d be safer having all the information in front of you.” Dan Scardino explained softly.
“We?” Jimmy’s brow furrowed. “Who all knows about this?”
“Just us,” Lois said gently. “You. Me. Clark and Agent Scardino.”
“This says I was…drugged…as a baby?” Jimmy shook his head in disgust. “Did my parents know about this?”
“We don’t know,” Scardino answered, interjecting himself in the conversation. “There’s a lot of unknowns here. Right now, the biggest concern here is keeping this information limited to as little people as possible.”
“Why? You don’t want to embarrass the good old agency and your buds at the pentagon?” Jimmy scoffed, shaking his head in disarray. “I mean, this is news!”
“And it could also put everyone in very real danger,” Lois said carefully. “Listen, Jimmy, I know this is a lot to take in…”
“Lois?”
Lois looked up, seeing Clark standing in the doorway with two officers and Detective Ryder behind him. She stood up from her chair, sensing Clark wasn’t just returning from a rescue and happened to have run into the detective and officers in the lobby.
“What is it?”
Before she could even register the movement, Clark was by her side, holding her in his arms, rocking back and forth as he performed a great impression of herself in babble mode. “You have no idea how scared I was. Are you okay? Has there been anything out of the ordinary? Packages? Letters?”
“No, I’ve been here going through this case with Jimmy and Agent Scardino,” she said, placing a hand on his cheek, feeling him shudder beneath her touch. Worry crossed her eyes as she looked back at him. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“We want to place a security detail in the newsroom just to be safe,” Detective Ryder explained, pointing to the officers behind him.
“What’s going on?” Lois asked, turning back to Clark. “Clark?”
________________________________________
Bill Henderson hung his head as he followed Detective Riley inside the townhome. He looked around, taking note of the perimeter the patrol officers had set up in Mayson’s living room. The couch had been turned upside down and ripped along the back. Henderson grimaced as he stared at the disarray of random household objects that had been destroyed and strewn across the living room. He moved toward the kitchen, where one of the investigators was taking a picture of the scene.
“Henderson,” Riley pointed to the table in the corner of the kitchen that looked to be set up as a workstation. Or at least it would have been a workstation had the monitors and computer not been yanked out of the wall. The cords plugged into the wall hung across the table with an imprint on the table from where the missing electronics had been.
Henderson pointed to the table, “Make sure everything is photographed.”
He made his way to the small round table located at the end of the room, where Mayson was seated with a mug of coffee, talking with one of the patrol officers. “Any suspects?” Henderson asked the patrol officer as he approached.
“Nothing obvious,” the officer responded with a shake of his head.
“Nothing obvious?” Mayson hissed out, waving her hands around the townhome, gesturing to the chaotic surroundings. “What more has to happen before you start taking me seriously?”
“What are you talking about, Mayson?” Henderson asked, not following what she was getting at.
“You want to know who did this?” Mayson growled angrily. “Take a trip down to the Daily Planet.”
“Mayson, you can’t possibly think…”
“Oh, you seriously can’t see it, can you? She’s out of control and you refuse to see it!”
“Who?” the patrolman asked.
“Mayson has certain misgivings about a certain reporter…” Henderson responded uncertainly.
“You think a reporter did this?” the patrol officer asked.
“Yes! It was
Lois Lane!”
Henderson let out a long breath, “I’ll take it from here.”
________________________________________
Rollie Vale held up the gold-trimmed micro-chip from beneath the microscope. A giddy squeal escaped his throat as he bounced in his seat, looking at the beauty that was his revolutionary new micro-chip. “Perfection!”
“Gloating is a bit premature, don’t you think, Vale?” Nigel muttered, pushing past him with a dismissive sneer.
“You said …”
“I said we have promising results.” Nigel corrected with a harsh glare as he reached his arm over to snatch the microchip out from under the microscope and squishing it between his index finger and thumb. “As far as you and McCarthy are concerned this…doesn’t work.” A snarl escaped his throat as he glared back at Vale. “Am I clear?”
“Crystal.”
“McCarthy will be taken care of once we have taken care of Mayson Drake,” Nigel said, straightening his shoulders. “No need to get his hopes up by flaunting something he’ll never be around to enjoy.”
“Of course,” Vale nodded, as he looked down at the crushed circuits.
“Get back to work.”
________________________________________
A range of emotions raced through Clark Kent’s mind as he reconciled the scene of his apartment with what Lois and Jimmy had described to him. No threats. No mysterious letters. No danger. Not imminent anyway. Was it a prank? Was it a promise of what was to come? Every fiber of him wanted to scour the city and hunt down the predator he knew had his sights on Lois. He would in a heartbeat, if he knew where to even look. Every patrol. Every rescue. He had searched. Constantly looking for a sign of McCarthy but he continued to come up with nothing.
No matter where he looked, there was no sign of this silent stalker that continued to threaten Lois from afar.
Now, the threats had come to him.
Detective Ryder tapped on the photograph on the table of his apartment, completely trashed with the threat against Lois clear in white paint. “We’re running down all leads, but as a safety precaution, we need you to be as vigilant as possible. No going anywhere without checking in with your detail.”
“You got it,” Jimmy answered for Lois, who was sitting in the corner of the conference room, looking anywhere but in Detective Ryder’s direction.
“Hold on,” Ryder looked down at his phone and frowned. He looked around the room, “I, uh, hate to ask, but I’m assuming you’ve been here all morning?”
“Here for half the morning and the other half…” Jimmy shrugged his shoulders.
“We were working on a case at Lois’ apartment earlier this morning,” Clark responded, pointing to the officer that was speaking with Agent Scardino with Perry. “Agent Scardino was assisting. What’s this about?”
Ryder shook his head, “Nothing. Just trying to get a timeline is all.”
To say he was skeptical of Ryder’s forthcomingness would be an understatement. Ryder was hiding something, but digging into the police detective’s motives was last on his list of priorities. First and foremost, he had to keep Lois safe.
“Right, I’ll leave you to it,” Ryder said, slightly distracted as he shoved his phone in his pocket. He turned to where Lois was seated, “Ms. Lane, I’ll be in touch. Please, no unnecessary risks…”
“Easier said than done,” Jimmy muttered under his breath as Ryder left.
Clark nodded, taking a seat next to Lois. He placed a hand on her shoulder, “Lois?”
Lois shook her head, looking up from her lap. A determined expression crossed her face as her eyebrows furrowed, and she stared back at him. “I guess that gives us some time to dig into Valhalla. Jimmy might actually be able to help with some information.” She gestured to Jimmy, “Jimmy’s working with the DA’s office on their investigation into his doctor’s shooting.”
“Your doctor?” Clark looked at his friend with dismay at the news his doctor had been shot.
“We may be reaching, but ….” Lois pulled out the file Scardino had found on Jimmy. “We did confirm this is his doctor’s name.” She pointed to the signature of Dr. Andrew Golden at the bottom of the latest report.
“Jimmy, I’m sorry,” Clark apologized to his friend. His head was still swimming with the events that had transpired over the last hour and a half. There was an actual break in the investigation into Vallhalla. This was big news. If he hadn’t been riddled with panic at that moment, he might even be grateful for the news. Instead, all he could do was offer a weak nod in his friend’s direction.
“It’s fine, CK,” Jimmy responded with a shrug of his shoulders. “I just want to get Dr. Golden justice and find out what all of this…” he gestured to the files on the table, “means.”
“With our help,” Lois added, placing a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder.
“Guys…” Jimmy began to argue.
“Jimmy, it’s non-negotiable,” Clark said firmly.
Jimmy was hesitant for a moment and then turned to Clark and nodded. “Thank you.”
________________________________________
“Vandalism?” Mayson shrieked in shock as she looked around the small crowd of officers in her townhome. “Look around! I’m the victim here!”
Henderson nodded, “Mayson, please, I just need to know where you were between eight and ten today.”
“Having coffee,” Mayson growled begrudgingly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Alone.”
“Anyone see you?” Henderson asked.
“Not really,” Mayson muttered. “I have a receipt.”
“I’ll need to see it,” Henderson said, tapping his notepad.
“It’s in my purse.” Mayson fumed, standing up from her seat and hobbling toward the kitchen to find the missing purse. She frowned when she saw it wasn’t where it had been laid earlier.
“Something wrong?” Henderson asked.
“I, uh…”
“Henderson?” a call came from the other side of the room from Detective Riley, motioning for Henderson to approach.
Mayson frowned when she saw the detective holding up a red and white pillow with a slash through it. Riley leaned in to whisper something to Henderson, who looked in her direction then to Riley, who nodded. She watched as Henderson disappeared through the front door to leave, and Detective Riley entered with the shredded pillow in his hand.
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Mayson asked with a snort.
“You tell me, Ms. Drake.” Riley placed the pillow on her table.
“Someone’s idea of a sick joke.” She picked at the white fuzz escaping from the corner.
Riley turned the pillow over and revealed white-painted words on the dark red fabric. ‘Lois Lane Dies!’
“Mayson, I’m going to need you to come down to the station with me.”
“Why?”
“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, Ms. Drake.”
“Don’t you see what’s happening?” Mayson shouted angrily. “She’s behind all of this! It’s all her!” Before she could react, she felt the cold metal wrap around her wrists and heard Detective Riley sounding off with the speel of her Miranda Rights. She let out a whimper as he held her by the shoulder. “I’m not crazy!”
“Mayson, please, just let us help you.”
________________________________________
ADA Wright tapped at the keys on his laptop and looked up to where the patient was handcuffed to his hospital bed with a bloody bandage across his shoulder. Wright leaned forward, taking a moment to size up the situation. If the information divulged to him was true, then he could potentially blow open every case the DA’s office had on Intergang with one witness. If he was lying… it could be his career.
He looked to the bandage on Albie Swanson’s shoulder, mulling over the possibilities once more before finally speaking up. “I can’t promise you a clean slate, but I can give you probation with protection and a new identity in exchange for your testimony.”
“You better get a judge in here then,” Albie responded coldly. “Because the clock will be ticking, and you’re going to want this all on the record.”
________________________________________
Lois let out a deep sigh, pushing the last of the files in front of her to the side. She glanced over at Jimmy, who was pouring over Dr. Golden’s background information, looking for something that would explain the evidence Agent Scardino had found that wasn’t the obvious answer everyone but him seemed to be already leaning toward. Dr. Golden was involved with Dr. Everett Wilder and possibly even his daughter, Katherine Wilder. She was still on the fence on whether the doctor was involved with Wilder’s daughter, but there was an overwhelming amount of evidence that solidified his involvement with Everett Wilder. It appeared Golden was trying to do the right thing by Jimmy in the end – albeit a bit too late.
The door opened, and she looked to where Agent Scardino was standing, notepad in hand, and a concerned expression on his face. “Anything?” she asked.
“Gregory Mallow and Sarah Goodwin were both nowhere to be found at their apartments,” Scardino said as his shoulders sunk with despair. “Any word from Kent on checking out the workplaces?”
Lois frowned, tapping her pen on the notepad in front of her. “He called about an hour ago. Nothing at Mallow’s workshop, and he’s talking to the professors at Met U right now about Sarah Goodwin.”
Scardino shook his head, “Anyone else getting an eerie vibe about the fact that two out of the three assassins being nowhere to be found?”
“They’re not assassins.” Lois corrected sharply, stealing a glance at Jimmy before looking back at Scardino.
Scardino pointed to the files in front of them. “Were you guys able to find anything on Golden.”
“Nothing connecting him to Katherine Wilder,” Jimmy spoke up, frowning as he grumbled out the glaring piece of evidence he and Lois had uncovered. “But it does appear he was stationed at Fort Truman with Everett Wilder at the same time this project started.”
“So, there’s the connection,” Scardino commented with a shrug. He held up his notepad, “I did hear back from my guys at the DEA. There is an active investigation into Dr. Golden regarding a forged signature for Ticeon – a highly regulated drug used in this Valhalla drug.”
“Sounds like Wilder might have been trying to resurrect Valhalla on her own.” Jimmy mused with a concerned expression.
“And with Amir Munour involved, we should all be very, very worried,” Scardino warned.
________________________________________
<<“McCarthy will be taken care of once we have taken care of Mayson Drake. No need to get his hopes up by flaunting something he’ll never be around to enjoy.”
“Of course,” >> Sean McCarthy pressed the rewind button and then hit play once more on the recorder.
<<“No need to get his hopes up by flaunting something he’ll never be around to enjoy.”>>McCarthy tightened his grip around the tape recorder, feeling the white-hot rage run through him as he pondered just how to handle Intergang’s treason. Whether it was Intergang or just the meddling of Nigel, he couldn’t be sure, but he knew from experience never to trust a fellow criminal. It was always a selfish view of looking out for oneself when teaming up with others. It seemed he had outlived his usefulness in Nigel’s eyes. A callous error in judgment, he would be sure to remind him of.
A sinister smile spread across McCarthy’s face as an eerie calm fell over him. He would so enjoy educating Metropolis and Nigel in just how expendable they all could be.
________________________________________
Amir Munour straightened his tie in the full-length mirror, glaring at the reflection as he barked out orders to his security team. “I want this Albie taken care of. I have a reputation to uphold and letting anyone think they are safe from my reach after committing treason, hmm…”
“Of course, sir.” The lead guard nodded, tightening his scratched up knuckles inside his hand. “And Dr. Wilder?”
“What about her?” Munour sneered dismissively.
“She keeps calling, sir.” The guard responded with a scowl. “Would you like for me to take care of her?”
“That’s unnecessary,” Munour shrugged, motioning for his guards to follow him as he opened the door to his room. “The dream of Valhalla appears to be nothing but smokescreen and dreams.”
Munour stepped out into the hallway with his team of guards behind him. “Shall I arrange for transport, sir?” the guard on his left asked.
“Yes, I believe…”
A man appeared in front of him with a shotgun, aiming it in Munour’s direction as he held the shotgun and aimed it in Munour’s direction.
“Get back, sir…”
One-shot.
The guard on his left was down.
Two shots.
The guard on his right was down.
Three shots.
The guard behind him was on his knees.
“W-what is…?” Munour stammered out as he watched the assailant drop the shotgun and fall to the ground.
Out of the corner, Dr. Katherine Wilder and her mother, Claudette, rushed to his side. Wilder checked the man’s pulse and frowned, “The dosage must have been off.”
“You better have a
very good explanation for this…” Munour threatened, growling at them in fury.
“It got your attention, did it not, Mr. Munour?” Claudette smiled back at him with a curl of her lip. “I do apologize about your guards, but we needed to get a very clear message to you that just wasn’t sinking in with words.”
“You…”
“As much as I’d love to continue this conversation, I’d suggest we get a move on before the police get here.” Dr. Wilder pointed to the red lights blinking in the hallway as the hotel manager’s voice came over the intercom, warning guests to remain in their rooms.
“Even if I wanted to listen to your insane proposal how am I supposed to explain the death of each assassin to my people?”
“The human body has changed over the past twenty years. Tolerance or intolerance to the Valhalla drug can be adjusted.” Dr. Wilder explained dismissively.
“And your subject is dead.” Munour pointed to the body on the floor with a shotgun by his side.
“We have another subject,” Claudette reassured him.
“A man.” Amir Munour challenged with a raised eyebrow. “Where I come from, we don’t need drugs to control our women.”
“Of course,” Wilder frowned, taking his arm in hers. “Now if you’ll just come with us? Unless you’d like to visit the inside of an American Jail this afternoon instead?”
“Cross me, and it’s your life,” Munour warned.
________________________________________
Lightning crackled from outside the Daily Planet windows, Lois pulled the heavy fleece blanket over her as she made herself comfortable on Perry’s couch, reviewing her notes from the research they had been able to pull today. Clark was still searching the city for the missing assassins and any sign of McCarthy. Jimmy was holed up in the conference room with Agent Scardino and as much as she’d like to put up an argument and insist she was fine and push through the last hour to see the case through.
As much as she would love to stay up and fight the fatigue, she knew it was a losing battle. The last few nights had drained her mentally and emotionally. Being here in the Daily Planet with the officers on guard just outside gave her an extra sense of comfort that helped to ease her into the sweet slumber that had been calling out to her.
Tomorrow they would talk review what they had and go over their options with Perry.
Tomorrow they would see if they could enlist Henderson’s help in finding Sarah Goodwin and G.E. Mallow to put a stop to Wilder’s plans for them.
Tomorrow….
“Lois?”
She jumped up, startled by the sound of Jimmy calling her name. “What is it, Jimmy?”
She gasped in surprise when she looked toward the window where the office looked out into the newsroom and saw the blinds and been closed. The door slammed to the office and she quickly jumped to her feet as she watched Jimmy wrap his hand around the leather belt in his hands.
“Jimmy, are you feeling okay?” Lois heard the slight waver in her tone as she looked back at her friend who had a dark expression on his face.
“Never better,” he called out before lunging in her direction. She let out a loud scream just before his hand clasped over her mouth. The thunder rumbled outside as the light from outside illuminated the sky.
She sank her teeth into the flesh of his hand, and he released his grasp on her long enough for her to jump to her feet and call out to him, “Jimmy, you’ve been brainwashed!”
Jimmy lunged toward her, wrapping the belt around her throat as she attempted to reason with him, “Jimmy, stop it! Please, it’s me, Lois!”
A flash of red glinted in his eyes as she searched her brain for how to get through to him as the air grew thinner and thinner. She hissed out a raspy, “Fight it, Jimmy…”
________________________________________
Clark heard the distinct voice he would know anywhere. As fast as he could, he soared through the sky, zeroing in on the Daily Planet as he moved at super-speed through the stormy clouds, dodging the lightning as it lit up the sky.
“Fight it, Jimmy…” he heard Lois wheeze out just before he crashed through the window to Perry’s office, shattering glass all around him as he reached for Jimmy.
“Let her go, Jimmy!” Clark ordered, pulling him off of Lois.
“As you wish,” Jimmy released his grasp on Lois and lunged toward Clark, attempting to wrap his hand around his neck but continuing to fail to make contact as Clark held him out at arm’s length.
Lois let out a shallow breath, gasping for air, and Clark turned to her, “Lois, are you okay?”
She nodded, looking at him slightly disoriented, “Cl-Superman?”
He scanned the newsroom, searching for any sign of assistance he could seek out but grimaced when he saw the officers on guard appeared to be knocked out by the elevator doors. He kept a tight grip on Jimmy, trying to make sense out of the scene in the bullpen and Perry’s office as he searched for any sign of recognition from his friend.
“Lois, do you think you can call the police while I get Jimmy here taken to the hospital?” Clark finally asked.
“What about the officers?” Lois pointed to the closed door.
“Someone’s knocked them out,” Clark answered, looking at Jimmy in dismay as he continued to swing in his direction. “Are you going to be okay?”
Lois nodded, gesturing to Jimmy, “Just get him to the hospital. I’ll take it from here.”
“Be careful.” Clark let the words escape, feeling they were nothing but a weak afterthought as he flew through the night sky, allowing the pouring rain douse his friend in hopes that it would help draw him out of whatever trance he was in.
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Dan Scardino limped through the lobby of the Daily Planet, gripping the bloody side where he had been shot. He looked toward the glass door where the trio had escaped moments ago. He bit his lower-lip, keeping them in his sights as he held out his pistol, ready to fire as soon as the two deadly women moved away from Munour. He wouldn’t let them escape. He wouldn’t let Munour getaway.
A chirp escaped his phone, and he heard the orders come through from Washington. “Permission granted, Agent Scardino. Take him out.”
With one shot, he shattered the glass of the door and smiled to himself as the second bullet his its target. Red and blue lights blinked in the distance, and he smiled to himself. “Justice is served.”
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Lois sat on the edge of her seat, drumming her fingers against the table as she heard the voices around her asking question after question on the events that had transpired. Wilder had been detained. A terrorist leader had been killed. The officers that had been standing guard would live after they recovered from the drug they had been dosed with by Wilder.
Was she losing her touch?The thought crossed her mind time and time again, as she stared off into the space between the chaos surrounding her and her racing thoughts that plagued her mind.
All of these things had occurred in just a few moments, and she hadn’t been the wiser. Why hadn’t she heard anything? Why hadn’t she put two and two together until Jimmy was facing her with the intention of following through on his orders to kill her?
“Ms. Lane?” a hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped, startled by the physical contact.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Lane,” the officer apologized. “Henderson asked that we make sure you get home safe and…”
“I’ll make sure she gets home okay, officer.”
Lois turned to see Clark standing in the doorway, still dressed in his Superman uniform. The tormented expression on his face shook her to the core as he entered the room.
“Lucky save,” Lois commented, standing up from her seat. “Is Jimmy okay?”
“He came to halfway to the hospital. The doctors are going to keep him overnight.” Clark answered, closing the door behind her as they stepped into the newsroom. His voice dropped an octave. “Are you okay?”
Lois nodded, unable to voice the conundrum of emotions racing through her, “I’ll be fine.” She gave him a pleading look, “Can we please get out of here?”
“Yeah,” Clark nodded, taking her hand in his.
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The world seemed to shift into a mixture of blurry pixels as the rain continued to pour down mid-flight on the way back to Lois’ apartment. Clark couldn’t help but let out a frustrated groan at the current situation. Was it too much to ask the universe to just allow him a moment of peace? A moment of solace and let him savor the brief feeling of holding Lois in his arms before another disaster would yank him away or possibly put her in harm’s way again and again.
He had gotten there in time – this time.
He still recalled the image of Jimmy’s face when he had come to in the aftermath of his attack on Lois. Try as she might to hide it, he knew the close call had shaken Lois. Even as she was giving her statement to the police, he felt the tight grip she held on him, recognizing her need to reassure herself that she was indeed safe.
He felt the squish of water beneath his boots as he came to land on her balcony, holding out his cape for cover as she fished her key out to unlock the back door. He ducked his head down to keep from hitting the doorframe as he stepped inside her apartment. He quickly closed the back door behind him and then gave her an apologetic smile before aiming a beam of heat vision around the now soaked cape and spandex that was dripping puddles of rain droplets around him. He let out a frustrated groan, opting to just spin out of the suit and change into his work clothes from earlier. He ran a hand across his white dress shirt, self-consciously feeling almost as if he was missing a limb without the suit on beneath, but for now, Superman wasn’t needed.
“You missed a spot,” Lois threw him a towel from the linen closet, and he looked up just in time to have the white terry fabric hit him in the head.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the towel and patting his hair dry. He looked over to where Lois was standing in the kitchen, attempting to wring her hair out over the sink. “Here,” he offered, sending a beam of heat vision over her and helping to dry the fabric from her clothes and hair. He smiled as he watched the steam rise up.
She reached a hand up, patting her damp cheeks with the towel in her hand, “I guess that storm just came out of nowhere, huh?”
“Yeah,” Clark agreed, watching as she tapped her hand on the side of the counter nervously. His gaze shifted to the wet spot on her blouse where her hair kept moving from side to side against the fabric. He watched her fingers tap against the counter and reached his hand out to squeeze her palm in his. Immediately, he felt her relax against his touch.
A pained expression crossed her face as she locked her gaze with his. He nodded, feeling the heavyweight of her silent plea as he reached his hand out to stroke her face with his palm. He rested his forehead against hers, taking her in his arms, leaning his face down to meet hers until finally connecting his lips with hers in a soul-shattering kiss.
Every second after that faded into oblivion as he lost himself in that moment, mesmerized in the serenity that washed over him as the electrical storm of desire and anguish fueled each desperate caress. There were probably a dozen or more reasons why he should stop and pretend he didn’t want to spend every last second of his life holding Lois Lane in his arms and exploring every last atom that formed the fiery woman cradled in his arms. There were reasons, of course, but, in this moment, he couldn’t rationalize why he would ever let her go.
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TBC...
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