Last Time
Lois immediately flashed through every movie scene she’d ever witnessed where a neck-breaking kill had taken place; the quick jerk of the head, the sickening crack of vertebrae, and the glazed eyes of the body that thumped to the floor. Make it fast, her mind hammered, please, please just make it fast.

Now...

Her faint whimpering almost did him in. Almost. He blamed his hesitation on his growing familiarity of the reporter while leading her through the chase. He’d become used to knowing she was steps behind him. Unfortunately, when she’d gone off mission, she put herself in a position for elimination, if not by him, then by Lex. Just the fact that she would become a target of Luthor’s wrath was impetus for him to forge on, ignoring her flinch as he made the initial attempt to invade her mental facilities.

This “first time” link was usually the most painful portion of the procedure. His previous experiences with normal human beings taught him that they lacked the potential for telepathic communication which meant he had to mentally force his way through that barrier of ineptitude, overcoming his subject’s will. He’d expected the same lack of ability from Ms. Lane, and once he’d pierced that obstruction of inability, he could begin the real work of deleting the parts of her memory that could incriminate him.

What he hadn’t counted on was her resolute stubbornness to fight his psychic assault as soon as his presence was detected. This had never happened to him before. All of his previous mental scrubs had succumbed quickly against the psychic invasion. However, with this reporter he was experiencing an unaccustomed resistance to the point of strain. He actually began to clench his teeth as his continual bombardment met layer after layer of dogged opposition. Only when his fingers tightened in determination did he feel her falter, the pain of his grip breaking her concentration.

Of course she had no idea what was actually taking place, but some instinctive form of mental defense had warned her that she was in a bad position at the hands of her captor. She quickly caught on that mental combat wasn’t a viable option for her as her attacker obviously had the upper hand in that area. She reverted instead to a rarely used tactic, but something she sensed might affect him more than fighting back.

<…please stop…>

Kal’s psychic incursion stuttered to a halt, as he perceived the flicker of her faint mental presence before him. The impression was not a strong one, in no way equal to his, but the delicate touch of her link tapped a hindering emotion in him that he had not experienced in a long time. He’d almost forgotten he could be affected by it, but something about her pricked his conscience.

He realized his invasion had kindled some innate fledgling ability in her to react telepathically. This enabled her not only the small ability to communicate, but also to illuminate an empathic layout of his intent, which gave her the chance to appeal to the small amount of mercy she detected. And momentarily brought him up short.

Unfortunately for her, her plea also created an opening, and while her tenuous link had startled him, even affected him slightly, he would not be moved from his purpose. He took advantage of that opening to penetrate the last of her barriers, dousing her momentary flash of cognizance. He adding the physical strain of his grip to ensure the pain that had distracted her before would keep her from blocking him again. Her gasping cry and the limp slouch of her body did not greatly concern him as this signaled his success and afforded him the access of all her mental facilities. He was able to loosen his physical grip on her, just short of crushing her skull, but he kept the link in place.

He had work to do.

He began by digging into her short-term memories, tearing each recollection from her mind and leaving empty blackness in his wake. When he was certain those portions were destroyed, he began a systematic exploration of her other recollections, checking for anything associated with her investigation and erasing any memories that included any clues that brought her to the Congo. At the beginning of this procedure he unconsciously tapped into some of her living memory and began to inadvertently get acquainted with the personality that was Lois Lane. He’d made a brief study of her before this encounter, when she’d first began investigating the gun running, but with this contact, he was introduced to her character, the unique aspects that made her tick and drove her ambition. She possessed a large reservoir of curiosity, a trait that made her too nosy for her own good apparently.

Despite her unconsciously muttered protests, he immediately tamped down her compulsion for information, thinking she’d be better off if she kept her meddling tendencies under wraps from now on. He found himself mildly distracted by the discovery that Ms. Lane was an amateur novelist, with several works in progress. His findings merely took a nanosecond to digest, but he was able to decipher the lack of incriminating subject matter in this information bank and left that portion intact.

He heard her sob as he delved further, her breath catching as he found himself in the midst of heartbroken anguish; a memory that implied someone had hurt her. Exploring this memory further he deduced that some man was involved, a man that had stolen her story and broken her heart.

The name “Claude” flashed across this memory-scape and, without considering the impulse, he caught hold of this painful reminiscence and erased it. His curiosity compelled him onward in his invasion, discovering every unpleasant and painful event in this young woman’s mind. With no purpose that he could define, he proceeded to bury the memories that were implanted too strongly and deeply to obliterate.

Unfortunately, by the time he was down to her rudimentary knowledge he was left with a grown woman that had the mental competence of a five-year-old. From his previous experiences, this was a temporary condition. The subject eventually regained his or her habitual memory enough to function day to day, but anything personal was destroyed. At this point, he normally retreated from his victim’s mind. Any other person that fell prey to his particular talent was generally non-threatening in this state and dismissed to his or her own devices. Left alone in Brazzaville with no intellectual capacity to take care of herself, she’d be fresh meat to the flesh market….

He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t bring himself to abandon her like that.

This regretful admission caused him to pause in a moment of confusion. Nobody else had ever earned his consideration before. What made this woman so different?

And what *was* he supposed to do with her now?

The image of Luthor’s private island flashed through his mind. Kal had done several mind scrubs on Luthor’s orders. A few of them had been people who had been unlucky enough to obtain incriminating knowledge in association with Luthor. But Lex kept the ones he found too aesthetically pleasing to “get rid of” on his tiny Caribbean patch of land. Now they were his docile little pets, living in a paradise that disguised the hell of their abuse inflicted at the hands of Luthor and anyone he chose to reveal his pleasure island to.

No, he couldn’t leave Lois there.

When he’d initially discovered her on the trail of Luthor’s illegal arms deals, his first instinct had been elimination. He owed Lex for so much; friendship, support, anonymity. But very recently Luthor had brought up the subject of Kal’s loyalty and what might be the result if he failed to maintain that loyalty.

The threat had come out of nowhere, delivered conversationally as if Lex had been discussing the weather, but the revelation had rocked Kal’s feeling of security in his alliance with Luthor. As the implications of his position sank in, he was suddenly enlightened about Luthor’s view of him. Instead of the protege’ and possible heir to the Luthor estate Kal considered himself to be, Lex had just reduced him to the status of a “heavy”, a gifted thug, who must be kept under thumb at all cost.

The idea not only incensed him, enraged him, it also hurt him. Everything Lex had ever done for him up to this point was abruptly tainted with the betrayal he felt at his mentor’s threat and made Kal more inclined to get him exposed. But up to this point Kal hadn’t really discovered a solution without certain information about his own background being revealed.

Granted Lex didn’t know every detail about how different Kal was, but what he did know could ensure Kal ended up in a lab somewhere, dissected like a frog.

The indirect path had become a more viable option. Kal’s involvement as a watchdog for Luthor’s gunrunning and Ms. Lane’s investigation had become an opportunity for escape. If she could be the one to reveal Luthor’s involvement, without implicating *him*, then a certain “Clark Kent” could return to the simple life on a small farm in Kansas he’d secured on his own only a couple of years ago. The resources he had earned during his association with Luthor would certainly make living the “simple life” more comfortable. The only thing in the way of his retreat from the complicated life was the existence of Lex Luthor.

Claiming the need for a sabbatical would work for about four months before he was back out in the trenches doing Luthor’s dirty work. No. Only the absolute destruction of Luthor’s empire would release him. And for now his indirect solution was on hiatus. He’d have to find another person to fill this role. Maybe someone who didn’t move so recklessly, someone who counted all the risks.

Regardless of *his* future plans, he was now burdened with the responsibility of arranging Ms. Lane’s future. But then he’d already reconciled himself to this conclusion. The matter at this point was simply the how and the where. Plunging back into the darkened channels of her mind, he set about to recreating someone a little less intrepid.

****

TBC...