Clark sighed in frustration. He had his laptop and was logged into the Daily Planet’s network but with all the Planet’s resources, he couldn’t find anything concerning a missing person matching his body’s description.
“You’re not going to find her,” Lola said, setting a fresh cup of coffee down for him. “You’re an A-type. Your gene stuff probably came from some swimsuit model and Mamba tweaked it to Lex’s specifications. I think Lex actually preferred blondes.”
“Lois wasn’t a blonde,” Clark reminded her.
“No. She was better. She belonged to his enemy,” Lola said. “And Lex loved nothing more than to steal things that belonged to his enemies. Steal them or wreck them.”
“You’ve gotten a lot… wiser… over the last day or so,” Clark said.
“I’ve done a lot of reading and talking to your parents,” Lola said with a shrug. “If it wasn’t that my time’s almost up, I might have grown up to become a real person.”
“You are a real person,” Clark assured her.
She shook her head. “I’m a soulless, paper-thin copy of Lois Lane.”
“You’re not soulless,” Clark said. “And even if you are a copy, it just means you’re a twin and twins are individuals too.”
“You really think I have a soul?” she asked.
“Of course you do. You have a beautiful soul,” Martha said coming up behind her. Martha set a plate of sandwiches down on the table for them. “I figure you haven’t eaten for a while.”
“I haven’t eaten anything since I woke up like this,” Clark admitted.
“Then you must be hungry,” Martha said. She settled into a chair across the table from him and watched as he grabbed a sandwich and started eating.
“I don’t want to have to talk about this,” Martha said softly, “but we have to. Superman is dead and Clark Kent is missing and presumed dead. Now, your dad and I are convinced you’re you, but there’s no way we’re ever going to convince a judge that you’re Clark Kent.”
“Which means I have no identity, no job, no money,” Clark said.
“You can come back to the farm with us for a while,” Martha offered.
“And how do you explain Malibu Barbie moving in with you?” Clark asked. “Plus I don’t want to be a burden. I’ve been out on my own for how long now?”
“Clark, it’s no burden,” Jonathan said. Clark had no idea how long he’d been listening.
“You’re our…” Jonathan’s face suddenly creased with a broad grin. “…daughter?”
“Thanks, Dad,” Clark said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. It was so weird hearing someone else’s voice coming out of his mouth. “But seriously, what am I supposed to do?”
“Surely you know someone in Metropolis who could fix you up with ID,” Martha suggested. “And as for money… Clark Kent is dead, or will be as soon as the ME agrees to issue a death certificate. As far as I know you haven’t made out a will yet, so as next of kin, your dad and I inherit everything including all your bank accounts. We can certainly turn everything back over to you.”
“You’re also forgetting Lex,” Lola said. “He was expecting to run off with Malibu Barbie. He wouldn’t have left getting ID and stuff like that to after the fact.”
“I’d rather not have anything to do with what that sick old man had planned,” Clark said.
“Well, he’s dead and won’t be hurting anyone else ever again,” Martha said.
“He’s been dead before,” Clark said with a sigh. “I swear the man has more lives than a cat.”
“I doubt he’s coming back this time,” Martha said. “I overheard the ME’s investigator tell Inspector Henderson that Luthor’s body would be autopsied as soon as it made it to the morgue under guard. They weren’t taking any chances this time. Superman’s body was being sent to STAR Labs.”
“And Lois?”
“The morgue,” Martha said. “In her case they’re more interested in the toxicology reports. The police found some pretty powerful psychotropic drugs in Luthor’s lair. It’s possible Lois would have recovered her memories on her own if she hadn’t been drugged.”
“Mom, I think you missed you’re calling,” Clark said. “You should have been a cop, or a mystery writer.”
“Well, it’s not too late for me to start writing,” Martha said with a smile. “But I think it might be better if I stick to art. One writer in the family is enough,” She stood up and regarded Clark critically. “We really have to take you shopping. Nothing of Lola’s or Lois will fit you. I doubt anything I have will fit either.”
“Shopping?” To Clark’s horror the word came out in a squeak. “I hate shopping for clothes.”
Lola gave him a wide-eyed look. “How can you hate shopping for clothes? That’s one of the funnest things around. I’ll show you all the best shops. It’ll be fun.”
But there was something frantic about her. Clark noticed how sunken her eyes were and how pale she looked.
“Lola, are you okay?” Clark asked worriedly.
“She needs to rest,” Martha said. “But just like Lois, she won’t.”
“If I go to sleep, I’m afraid I won’t wake up,” Lola said. “Lex told me I had a lifespan of maybe fourteen days. I’m fourteen days old tomorrow.” A tear ran down her cheek, then another and another.
Martha pulled her into hug. “Maybe Luthor was lying.”
Lola shook her head. “Doctor Hamilton said no. He said Doctor Mamba encoded a kill switch in his creations. He didn’t want them getting away from him. She’s the A-type. No kill switch. Hundred life year span, maybe more. Lex had Mamba create the perfect woman for him. No frogs.”
“I’m so sorry he did this to you,” Clark said.
“He had me made to buy himself time, but mostly he made me to hurt you,” Lola said. “He wanted Lois and you had her and he hated you for it. He wanted you to suffer. He wanted me to make you suffer.”
“More the fool him,” Martha said to her. “Knowing you has been an enlightening experience. One I wouldn’t trade for all the tea in China. Now, go lie down before you fall down.”
Lola started for the bedroom then grabbed Clark in a hug. “Have a good life,” she murmured. “And remember, I did love you, in my own immature homicidal way.”
“I know,” Clark said. “I loved you, too.”
Her face lit up in a beatific smile as she walked away.
Clark turned back to his mother. “Shouldn’t we call Doctor Klein?”
“There’s nothing he or Hamilton can do,” she said. “She shouldn’t be in any pain.”
“Just ‘lights out’?”
Martha nodded.
“You know, I hope Luthor’s really dead,” Clark said. “He’s the only person I know I can honestly say that about. I’m hope that the bastard who did that to such an innocent… I really hope he’s dead.”
Clark took another sandwich and took a bite as he went back to his computer. He wasn't sure what his next step should be. Find Louie Logan and buy himself some identification and then figure out what to do with his life. Somewhere along the line he needed to find Malibu Ken and determine whether or not Luthor had succeeded in his attempt to evade justice.
He wasn't sure what he would do if he found out that Luthor had managed to escape into the other body.
-o-o-o-
Lois inspected the passport in her hand once again. Martin Joseph Alexander. The birth date made Martin twenty-three years old. His home address was in one of the small towns north of Metropolis. Lois was certain that either the address was false or it belonged to Luthor in some round about fashion.
The birth certificate was interesting as well. It was, supposedly, from a small town in British Columbia but Lois had no doubt that if she checked she’d find that the city records building had burned down some time ago and the delivering physician was long dead. Martin’s parents were listed as Alexander Joseph Luthor and Gretchen Olga Kelley. Gretchen Kelley had been Luthor’s personal physician for many years and had been instrumental in bringing him back from the dead after he dove off the top of the LexCorp Tower to escape the police. Kelley had been killed by Luthor when she objected to being thrown over for a younger woman – Lois Lane. Lois wondered how Kelley would feel about being used by Luthor once again.
Henderson had volunteered to drive her around for the afternoon. The First Metropolis Bank was their first stop – arranging a safe deposit box for the bearer bonds and opening an account for Lois under the name of ‘Martin Alexander’. The second stop had been to check in to the Imperial Hotel and change clothes. Luthor had chosen dark Italian suits and linen tropical wear for his ‘son’. The briefs were silk. Lois chose the linen slacks and a silk shirt. She would have preferred jeans and a t-shirt but Luthor hadn’t packed any.
“Both of my supposed parents are dead, so there’s no one to say I’m not who this all says I am,” Lois muttered under her breath as Henderson drove his car out of the Imperial Hotel parking garage.
“Luthor put a lot of time and effort to make your background as convincing as possible,” Henderson said.
“This would have taken more than just a few days,” Lois pointed out.
“I have a suspicion that Luthor had been planning this for some time,” Henderson said. “He never struck me as someone who left things to chance.”
Lois chuckled. “You’re sure I’m not really Lex Luthor in a hundred million dollar disguise? Or I’m not his illegitimate son, Martin, having some fun at your expense?”
“I doubt Luthor would have turned his weapon on his own flesh and blood,” Henderson said. “And as I’ve already said, you don’t have Luthor’s attitude. But the attitude is very familiar.”
“Is that why you’re so willing to believe that Lois Lane’s soul or consciousness or whatever could have been transferred into a mindless body?” Lois asked. “This body.”
“Gupta Asabi may be a charlatan,” Henderson said, “but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have some small talent in the esoteric arts. What he said Luthor wanted him to do was extremely dangerous but within the realm of possibility. And he claimed he was successful.”
“I thought cops were supposed to be pragmatic and realistic,” Lois said. “Just the facts, ma’am.”
“Sometimes the facts lead you to places you don’t expect,” Henderson said. “And sometimes the truth is just plain beyond fantastical. I’ve been a cop for a long time. I’ve seen things I didn’t dare put down in my reports, things I know happened, facts I know were true but I also know that no one would believe.”
“And this is one of them?” Lois asked.
Henderson nodded. “I’ve met Mamba’s clones, the fake president and fake secret service man, the fake Lois Lane. One thing that struck me was that they couldn’t manage the simplest things without intensive coaching. No one’s been coaching you. You also have Lane’s intonation and vocabulary and some of her body language. It didn’t faze you at all when I used news jargon to you. You even have some of her tells.”
“I’d hate to play poker with you,” Lois said with a grin.
“Most of my job is just watching people,” Henderson said. “Sometimes it’s the look on a child’s face that tells you which parent is the abuser. The tone in a victim’s voice that tells you not to press too hard or the look in the perp’s eye that tells you he thinks he’s smarter than you. That he thinks he can get away with murder. Or when a pair of award-winning reporters say they didn’t pick the lock when you know perfectly well they did but you know they know you won’t do anything because they’ve just prevented a worse crime from being committed.”
Lois found herself smiling. She hadn’t realized exactly how perceptive Henderson really was, or what thin ice she’d been skating on all these years.
“I’m going to miss them,” Henderson added. He pulled to a stop in front of Clark’s apartment building. “Why here?”
Lois was surprised at the question. “Lois Lane’s fiancé lives here.”
“I know that, but do you think this is where the little lady headed for when she ran off?” Henderson pressed.
“According to the marriage license her name is ‘Alexa Analouisa Parker Alexander’,” Lois reminded him.
“Assuming I’m right and it’s Superman in Alexa Analouisa Parker Alexander’s body, should I ask why he would go to Clark Kent’s apartment to hide out?”
“No.”
Henderson chuckled and Lois had the feeling he knew exactly why Superman would go to Clark Kent’s apartment to hide out.
“Tell ‘Alexa’ she can come down to my office tomorrow give her statement and pick up her passport and clothes,” Henderson said. “But Luthor packing nothing but frilly lingerie for Lois Lane to wear shows exactly how demented the man really was.”
“Yeah.” Lois opened the door and climbed out of the car. “Thanks, Inspector. For everything.”
“Good luck,” he responded before driving away.
Lois took a deep breath before climbing the steps to the building’s front door. She had no idea how she was going to prove who she was to Clark and his parents, assuming Clark was even there. And if he wasn’t then she had no idea where to start looking for him.
She knocked on the door to Clark’s apartment. She could hear movement inside, feet on the steps approaching the door. Then the door opened. Martha peered out at her.
“Is Clark here?” Lois blurted out. Martha looked surprised and a little hurt and Lois realized what she had just said.
“Stupid, Lane, just put your mouth in it…” Lois muttered to herself. She turned back to Martha. “Did a woman show up here a few hours ago, five-sevenish, blonde hair, blue-eyes, built like a Playboy centerfold and wearing clothes stolen from Met General?”
Martha’s eyes had widened. “You’re the other one.”
Lois nodded. “Yeah.”
Martha moved aside and let her pass. Jonathan was standing at the bottom of the steps.
“And you are?” he demanded.
Lois could see a pretty blonde woman peering around the corner at her. “Clark?”
The woman stepped out to face her. “Who are you?” She had a pleasant alto voice but her expression was hard with a touch of hurt and worried.
“Well, my passport has me down as Martin Joseph Alexander,” Lois said. “But that’s not who I was when I woke up yesterday.”
“And who was that?”
“Wanda Detroit,” Lois said, “only she never existed and Lois Lane is dead.”
“So is Superman,” the woman said. “But how do we know you’re who you say you are? That this isn’t some sick trick Luthor’s still playing?”
Lois sighed. “Clark proposed to Lois in Centennial Park, near the fountain. It was raining and he looked up into the sky and yelled ‘Come on, give me a break here...’ She asked him if he wanted to get out of the rain and he replied ‘If the Earth opened up at my feet, I wouldn't move till I'd finished saying this.’ Then he got down on one knee and said, ‘Lois... will you marry me?’ And then Lois said, ‘Who's asking?’”
“Clark... or Superman?” the woman said. “Lois said no that time.”
“Lois said she had to think about it,” Lois corrected. “After all the federal disasters she’d had for relationships, she needed to think hard about what being married would mean.”
“So, when did she say yes?” the woman asked. It was so weird to be hearing Clark’s words out of a woman’s mouth.
“She didn’t, exactly,” Lois said. “She proposed to Clark just after Ultra Woman left for wherever. He asked her, ‘Who's asking… Lois or Ultra Woman?’ And she responded ‘Who's answering… Clark or Superman?’”
“Lois?” the woman said, then she pulled Lois into a hug. It felt odd. Lois had always fit into Clark’s shoulder just right. Now she towered over the person in her arms. Clark had been broad shouldered and muscular. Alexa was muscular, but in a feminine way.
Lois pulled back. “The name on my passport and birth certificate says Martin Alexander. The name on your passport is Alexa Analouisa Alexander. Those were the names Luthor chose for himself and me. There’s also a marriage certificate with those names. Supposedly we’ve been married a week.”
“How did this happen?” Martha asked.
Lois sat down on the sofa, tucking one foot under her, and told them about Luthor’s plans to escape justice inside a new body.
“I told you, this was all Lex’s plan,” another voice added when she was finished. A face Lois knew from her own mirror was watching her from the bedroom. The clone Luthor had commissioned. The clone grinned. “Only you beat him at his own game. He’s dead and you’re not.”
“But how do you fix things? How do you get back to being who you are… were?” Jonathan asked.
“Leek is dead, and Hamilton may or may not be able to replicate his success in cloning gangsters. Mamba is in federal custody and I doubt the feds will help us, assuming they believe us,” Clark said. “I’m not sure I believe us.” He ran a hand through his hair. It was a nervous habit Lois recognized but it looked odd on ‘Alexa’.
“Plus, there’s the added complication of Superman,” Clark continued. “We know Leek was able to clone him, but he was like one of Mamba’s B-class clones. He didn’t live long. So we don’t know if anyone is even capable of cloning Superman, assuming that was a good idea anyway.”
“And on top of all that, is it really a good idea to let everyone know that it’s possible for this type of transfer to take place?” Martha asked. “I mean every rapist and murderer in prison could turn around and claim that his body had been ‘borrowed’ by some unknown entity and so he wasn't culpable for his crimes. And there’d be no way to prove it one way or another.”
The phone rang and they all looked at one another to see who would answer. At the third ring Jonathan picked up the phone. Lois heard Henderson’s voice on the line. “If you haven’t seen the news, turn on LNN,” he told Jonathan. “And I promise you, I will get to the bottom of this.”
Lois went over and turned on Clark’s TV, tuning it to LNN. Pictures of Clark Kent and Superman were on the screen and Grant Burton’s voice was saying, “… sources inside the MPD confirm that one of the items retrieved from Lex Luthor’s underground lair was a tape recording in which Luthor states unequivocally that Superman was in actuality none other than Daily Planet journalist Clark Kent, fiancé of the late Lois Lane. MPD sources also tell us that the two people recovered alive from Luthor’s lair…” Here there was a video of two people being placed in an ambulance. “…were in fact Lex Luthor’s son and daughter-in-law, Martin and Alexa Alexander. They have been taken to an undisclosed location and have been unavailable for comment…”
Lois felt everyone’s eyes on her. “Uh, yeah, I forgot to mention that. Luthor’s way to get around all the identification issues from moving into a new body was to arrange for that body to be identified as his son and heir. Martin and Alexa Alexander are currently worth about five hundred million dollars, and that’s just what we know about.”
“Oh boy,” Clark muttered.
