[CHAPTER 3: Mr. Church]
He was leaving the precinct when he heard the odd whine once again which soon gave way to speech.
Intergang was apparently ready to speak with him again.
"Superman, please meet me on the roof of the warehouse on the corner of 4th and D street."
Slipping into an alley, he changed and shot across the city after making a quick stop at his apartment to pick up some equipment. Unfortunately, Mayson was busy in a courtroom but their preparations would suffice for now, he hoped.
Zipping faster than anyone could see, he placed a few microphones on and throughout the indicated building, including a room with a few chairs and a computer that was currently shut down, after spotting Martin Snell and a few other individuals. Hopefully one of the mics Mayson had obtained for him would be able to record something useful.
He left the building before arching across the sky to give a sonic boom to make it appear that he was only just now approaching. He landed in front of Snell a moment later.
“Ah, happy to see you again, Superman,” the lawyer said with a grin. “Now, I spoke with my benefactors -- or should I say ‘our benefactors’? -- and they were pleasantly surprised by your stance. They appreciate your forwardness and respect what you do for the world.”
Superman gave an acknowledging nod.
“As such, they are willing to adjust a few of their operations to ensure they meet the two stipulations you listed. They, and myself, see no reason to refuse the reasonable arrangement,” he said, motioning him to follow.
Two other people appeared, and it was clear by their rough appearance that they were typical underlings who served as intimidating security.
“I figure it’ll be nicer to speak further inside. Especially since I believe you would like to meet the --" Snell coughed. "--the head of Intergang. This way."
Superman followed simply, seemingly unconcerned by that tidbit.
They went deeper into the building and Superman was privately pleased when they entered the room with the computer and his hidden microphone. Interestingly, the computer and equipment were now on beside a somewhat nerdy individual with a rumpled old plaid shirt with thick rimmed glasses.
Snell stopped beside the computer and the two guards stepped in behind him. The man, who had just finished his job of providing I.T. support, gave Snell a nod and a curious yet hesitant look toward Superman.
“Superman is here, sir,” Snell said, speaking into the computer’s microphone and turning the computer screen around to face Superman.
The view on the screen was of a rich, indistinct office with a chair’s back at the center. The individual in the chair was completely out of view.
“Very good,” an electronically distorted voice said. “Good evening, Superman.”
“Good evening.”
“I apologize I am not forthcoming with my identity, but one must be cautious,” the man said, his voice still distorted before he inhaled thickly and released a puff of what was likely cigar smoke above the chair.
“I understand,” Superman said amiably.
"I imagine you do. Well, as Martin already told you, your first condition isn't a problem. Our business typically keeps children out of things and I will now ensure that is always the case. I'm a family man, first and foremost, and a businessman second. I like to keep things in order - civilized, at least as much as possible. Does that comfort you?"
"It alleviates some of my concerns, I'll admit," Superman said.
The chair rotated slightly, still hiding the man in the chair but revealing a computer screen beyond it that was clearly a live feed of the room they were in since Kal could make out his cape covered shoulder.
Yet another example of Intergang's power and influence. That was an impressive collection of technology---which made sense considering their previous stunt to get his attention.
"Good. You see, I'm not a bad man, I just understand human nature and wish to curtail it. If we were not here, others would be and it’d be worse. I do not want to see history repeat itself."
"'Repeat itself'?" Superman asked.
"When the mafia lost their hold of cities across the US, a different form of criminality took hold. One that does not attempt to keep clear of the general population but terrorizes it through violent rites of passage and endless infighting, even going as far as targeting random individuals and uncaring of who they pull into the underworld. I'm talking about gangs, of course. Brutes of the worst kind."
"So you believe, by leading Intergang, you are sparing the public worse forms of crime and harm?" Superman asked curiously.
"Yes. We keep those with a dark nature in check."
Kal nodded thoughtfully, continuing his act. "Do you allow people to leave your organization if they wish? Surely some come to realize they don't need to pursue criminal activities forever?"
"Leave where? Most of my employees have records and no legal skills. Why would they feel they could leave with no means to make a life? Most I imagine feel they don't deserve the chance -- and to be honest, many do not."
Kal grew still, wondering if there was a way to help some of these people directly or if he was contemplating a pipe dream. If they managed to bring Intergang down, there would be a lot of people left in limbo, feeling they needed to find another syndicate -- or worse, feeling they could easily rise and fill the sudden void themselves.
They were already seeing it with Luthor's crumpled empire, and they would see it again once Intergang fell, only it would be worse, because it would be worldwide and with no means to contain it. Granted, all of the individuals would be without clear leadership, but as cities terrorized by gangs could attest to, such infighting that resulted often means worse results for those within the vicinity.
Hmm, perhaps the Foundation could begin some programs to help such individuals get out of the vicious cycle. He promised himself to bring up the idea to Julie and Mav.
“I see you understand,” the man said, drawing another long puff from the cigar.
“No, I’m just thinking and--” Superman said, leaning forward and staring right in the camera as he thought quickly. “--wondering. Are you a man willing to make a real difference? If you are sincere in your desire to prevent those with 'dark natures' from running rampant, why not go a step further?"
“A step further?” he asked, exhaling a puff of cigar smoke that rose above his chair.
Superman straightened, clearly contemplating something.
It was a risk, but by this point he was well on his way to obtaining the evidence Mayson needed to get a warrant that would likely lead to more evidence, and if his somewhat crazy idea worked. . . .
“May I speak to you without any other eyes or ears?” Superman asked.
“An odd request, but very well. Martin, clear the room. I will speak to Superman alone,” he said, his voice still electronically distorted and unidentifiable with the back of his chair still taking most of the view on the computer screen.
“Of course,” Martin said, motioning the other men to leave in front of him. They did so and Martin closed the door behind him.
“Alright, Superman. It’s just the two of us.”
“You may call me Kal, Mr. Church,” Superman said.
The smoke rising above the chair stopped wavering and simply rose from one location.
“I’ve known who you are for a long time. Traveling around the world, I hear things, and the connection between Intergang and CostMart was not too difficult to make. Every city with a CostMart has a high concentration of organized crime and essentially no gang activity.”
Mr. Church remained silent.
“Mr. Church, I think we could do a lot of good together. I don’t condone the things you’ve done through Intergang, but I understand your reason for creating and leading it. And now you have an opportunity. Starting today, let’s go a different path, together. We can make a better way, have a more positive impact. You have created a means to prevent the creation of more criminals and provide an avenue to those having second thoughts, wishing to become better people. You are already rich, already great. Why not good too?” Superman finished, easing back.
Church was silent for a long time, saying nothing as he put out his cigar and shifted briefly in his chair. Finally, when Kal began to wonder if he had pushed too hard, too fast, Church rotated about in his chair and faced him.
“I will consider what you have said. You bring up something I have been hesitant to think about, but now that I have heard it from someone else. . . . We’ll be in contact,” he said, his voice normal before he swiveled back around, signaling the end to this meeting.
“Thank you, Mr. Church,” Kal said, silently standing up from the chair.
He went to the door and opened it, surprising Martin who was standing just a few feet away.
“Superman?” he questioned, for the first time looking weary.
“We’ve finished for now. Thank you,” Kal said simply, deciding he’ll come back for the hidden mic later and leaving with a parting nod.
O o O o O
Lois took a slow deep breath.
Luthor was to be executed by firing squad in three days' time. Interestingly, the man had specifically requested that manner of execution, preferring it over lethal injection, hanging, or the electric chair. It was archaic, but Lois couldn't say she was surprised. Luthor was the most dramatic person alive. She was, however, surprised by how prompt the tribunal was being. That was by far more surprising than the concession to Luthor's violent request of meeting his fate by firing squad. She had expected things to take longer to be arranged, but she wasn't going to complain.
O o O o O
Mayson shook her head and thought back to the situation in the hospital she had just left.
Bill Church Sr. was in the ICU. He had been brought in by his driver with burst eardrums and blunt force trauma that Mayson felt was clearly the result of an assault on his person. Unfortunately, neither he nor his driver could reveal how he had been hurt let alone who had hurt him. Bill was unconscious with swelling on his brain and his driver stated he had found him on Church's property against the garage wall just outside of his mansion.
It was truly baffling.
"Something wrong?" Clark asked, coming up behind her in the precinct.
“Oh! Clark, I didn’t expect to see you today,” she said, surprised but pleased.
He smiled and waited for her to answer his question.
“Well, Church Sr. is in the hospital with burst ear drums and blunt force trauma. His driver brought him in unconscious. He looks like he was slammed into a wall, although don’t ask me how that blew up his eardrums. The doctors are keeping him under and hoping his brain doesn't swell much further or they'll have to do surgery,” Mayson said as they went down the hall to her office together.
“What? Bill Church?” he asked, stunned.
“Yeah. I know,” she agreed.
Clark frowned, deep in thought as they stepped into her office. She closed the door. “I wonder . . . do you think this could be a power struggle? The timing of this is highly suspicious.”
“A power struggle? Inside Intergang? Perhaps, considering Superman’s insane theory about Bill’s conscience.” Mayson sighed and shook her head. “Part of me hopes he is right. I’ve known Bill for a long time, and after learning about what he does behind CostMart. . . . I’d like to believe I wasn’t completely wrong in my initial feelings about the man even though I was clearly tricked by him.”
“You weren't completely wrong because there is good in everyone,” Clark said. “Or perhaps it is better to say everyone is capable of doing good and choosing right.”
Mayson smiled. “That’s a nice belief.”
Clark tilted his head. “But you don’t believe it.”
“I’ve seen a lot of evil people, and imagining any of those individuals suddenly choosing to do something kind . . . they wouldn’t, unless it gained them something, which usually involves enabling them to do more harm. Look at Luthor. Maybe they could have done good in the past, but not anymore. It's no longer something they can consider. For whatever reason, they cannot even fathom doing something unselfish, and for people like that . . . well, there’s only two things society can do with them,” she said, alluding to Luthor’s imminent execution that would occur in a few days.
Clark looked saddened by her words, but before he could respond, someone knocked on the door.
"Come in," she stated.
Henderson stepped in. "Oh good. You're both here."
"What's up, Bill, you seem a little rattled," Clark said.
"Metropolis Bank was just robbed. Clean getaway, no suspects. Everyone in the bank who could have been witnesses weren't because they were unconscious during the whole thing," Henderson explained quickly. "Come on, I have the security tape. You've got to see this."
Clark and Mayson quickly followed. It was rare to see Bill like this.
Bill closed his office door behind them and motioned toward the television set where the VCR and tape were ready. Once they were settled, he pushed play.
It was a recording of the inside of a bank, Metropolis Mercantile Bank, to be exact. They stared as suddenly the people within began collapsing for seemingly no reason or warning. And then a group of men with black motorcycle helmets and jackets rushed in and began robbing the bank.
Clark pressed pause.
“It’s the sound,” Clark stated, startling Mayson.
“What?” she asked while wondering why she was so tired.
“It’s what made everyone collapse, and what started making y-us drowsy,” he explained.
“That’s what I deduced too, and even knowing to expect the sound doesn’t help much with staying awake,” Bill answered with a yawn.
“This is huge,” Mayson said. “Who else has seen this?”
“Counting us? Just seven. The mayor has already been called. The Chief of Police plans to show him before the end of the day,” Bill said.
“Good. This . . . group could go and do anything they want again and likely get away with it. Do you think earplugs or headphones would protect officers?” Mayson asked.
“I don’t know. They were clearly able to protect themselves, but maybe they were listening to a frequency to counter the sound making people sleep," Clark warned, pointing to their helmets.
"Good point, but I'll request an order of earplugs just the same," Bill said, hoping for the best.
Clark nodded in agreement. “Well, I’ll see if any of my contacts have heard anything about this group or sound technology.”
“Okay, thank you,” Bill said.
“I’ll let you know if Bill Church’s condition changes at all,” Mayson assured.
Clark nodded appreciatively before walking out.
O o O o O
Lois took a deep breath as she walked from the cab and to her hotel.
Luthor was dead.
She had stood as witness, along with a dozen other journalists and news correspondents selected by the international court to report on Luthor’s execution and cremation.
It had been so surreal watching the man that had nearly doomed the planet to an unparalleled catastrophe, an impact winter, march forward with such arrogant defiance before being secured to the shooting wall. Beforehand, he had refused a priest and the like, stating he was beyond such things. Lois doubted Luthor had any concept of remorse.
“Ready!” the order sounded in the square.
“The world will regret this!” Luthor snarled suddenly, yelling as loudly as he could since he had no mic to carry his voice unhindered to the assembled group behind his executioners. “Humanity will regret that I failed to terminate the alien!”
“Aim!”
“Mark my words!” he spat. “You all will--”
“Fire!”
He died instantly and she joined the even smaller group to the crematorium soon after to witness and report that his body was properly put to rest.
She felt guilty about not having the urge to vomit after it was all over.
Instead, she took a bubble bath and tried to imagine herself back in her apartment, in the States.
She couldn’t wait to fly back the next morning and put all of it behind her.
O o O o O
The noise was a dull, annoying buzz, but Clark instantly knew what it was as he flew over the city. Changing course, he scanned the area below, instantly finding the motorcycle-like gang wearing biker jackets and helmets in the bank. They were, without question, the same individuals from the video Bill had shown him and Mayson. They stepped over the bodies of sleeping bankers and customers as they emptied the vault. He also spotted another man standing watch out front with a bizarre gun. His eyes returned to those inside and decided it would be better to address those individuals first to prevent any from getting away or attempting to hold anyone hostage.
He shot past the man standing out in the street and went into the bank, swiftly transporting all of the bank robbers within into the vault before they could react. He closed and locked the door, knowing there was plenty of air for all of them to be fine for several hours.
He then twisted around and went back out, set to get the last man.
He shot outside, intent on removing the gun from the man’s hand first to eliminate any threat to the people who were sleeping in and around the bank, but he was suddenly, unbelievably, deflected.
He found himself on his side on the sidewalk and quickly turned back to the man who immediately laughed and pointed the odd gun at him.
“Oh, hello, Superman. I see you have discovered the function of this glove. It creates a little something I dreamt up called the Wall of Sound. A sonic barrier so dense nothing can get through it, not even you, Superman. And there's no plug to pull -- independent power supply,” he said through his helmet, wiggling his gloved fingers at him before pulling the trigger of the gun.
An odd sound came forth but did nothing as Superman got to his feet, but then the man, who Superman decided to mentally refer to as ‘Sound Man’, turned a dial on the back of the gun and fired again.
The noise was tangible and Superman barely contained a gasp of pain as he stumbled backward onto the street. A pulsing buzz of pain rang loudly through his core and the ground beneath his feet felt as if it was tilting.
“Never thought super-hearing'd make you super-vulnerable? Guess under that steel skin, you're just a sensitive guy,” he said, holding the trigger down as he adjusted the dial again.
The world spun violently around Superman and he found himself crashing down onto the black pavement. The screech of invisible waves pummeled his whole being and the resounding force from it echoed in his mind so loudly that his vision actually wavered. Closing his eyes didn’t help as he was suddenly assaulted by nausea on top of a white hot spike of pain through his skull.
“Your equilibrium's shot. In a minute, you won’t even be able to walk again - let alone fly,” he said, walking forward.
Superman tried to back away but was mercifully given a reprieve when two police cars squealed onto the street. He wanted to sag in relief, but the knowledge that what had just assaulted him was about to hit people who did not have his abilities roared in his heart. Surely they would die if they were struck with this! He had to stop him!
The Sound Man turned around, dialing the gun up to an even higher frequency. He took aim as the officers stepped out of their vehicles.
"Put the gun down!" an officer ordered.
Superman clamored forward, his balance completely skewed but he hoped he was moving in the right direction and that what he was seeing was actually where he perceived it to be. His target was the outstretched gun, his jumbled mind managing to instantly recall the wall of sound only reached a foot around the glove.
The gun was currently outside of that range.
He knew he did not appear graceful but he didn’t care. He leapt forward, reaching out and desperate to stop the gun from being fired at the police.
O o O
Mayson jammed the earplugs in a little harder than she had intended as the officer she was driving with steered the car behind another cruiser. They had been on their way to a crime scene across town, but when they learned there was a robbery in progress she agreed to change course.
"Good Lord, is that Superman?!" the driver shouted as they made it around the bend and skid to a stop.
Superman was on the road, and it didn't look good.
The driver didn't wait for a response as they assessed the situation and stepped out.
"Put the gun down!" an officer from the other squad car ordered. "We'll shoot!"
Mayson unholstered her weapon as Superman
moved.
He was clearly unstable as he got to his feet and his expression was marred with what she could only define as pain, but he dashed toward the helmeted biker anyway. She was confused about why he didn’t simply tackle him or why he wasn’t moving faster, but maybe he was afraid of hurting him? Or maybe he was more off-balanced by whatever that man had done than she thought, but in either case, he managed to make it to the man in a stumbling leap.
Mayson could not believe her eyes as Superman fell - fell! - his hand tugging the man’s aim away from them and down. Unfortunately, due to how he fell, Superman ended up directly in the path of the disc-like barrel just as the trigger was pulled. The gun released a massive long
boooonnng that sounded like it should have come from a giant, car-sized cymbal instead of a handgun, especially since the sound -- just --
kept --
going.The pavement beneath Superman cracked under the blast as he was slammed down with it. The man took a step back, not even needing to shrug off Superman’s hand since the man of steel had already let go as the weapon continued pouring out the unrelenting frequency.
"Drop the gun!" one of the other officers ordered again. “Stop!”
Mayson had seen enough and fired. Twice.
Two odd, flickering waves rippled out over the man’s body, but in an instant he was down and the sound gun fell silent.
“Shots fired, shots fired. Suspect down, EMS needed,” the officer nearest her declared into his radio.
Mayson hurried forward, adrenaline high as she quickly kicked the bizarre gun from the man’s limp hand a moment before the three other officers cautiously approached. She wasn’t sure if the man would make it, but let the officers tend to him.
Heart still pounding in her chest, she turned toward the red fabric at the corner of her vision, not sure what to expect at all. She holstered her gun as her eyes scanned the Kryptonian.
He was alive, that much was clear by his feeble but successful move to sit up. However, one of his hands was over his ear and covering part of his face while the other was on the ground to keep him upright.
"Kal-El?" she asked. The foreign name still felt strange to say, but she preferred that over saying 'Superman'.
However, he didn't respond, which she found very alarming for some reason, and so she stepped directly in front of him and knelt down to get his attention.
"Ka--?"
Her breath lodged in her throat as she spotted bright red blood beginning to trickle from his nose.
How could this be? This was Superman! An alien who took bullets at point blank range and who had survived crashing into an asteroid with a mega-ton bomb before making it back to earth under his own power! How could he be
bleeding? Did he have internal injuries? Should she take him to the hospital? Call an ambulance?
He moved his hand from the side of his head, revealing more blood seeping from his ear, before he touched his upper lip. He pulled his hand away and looked down at the red now smeared across his finger tips.
Mayson was certain by the shock on his face that he had never seen his own blood before.
/This is bad/
The voice was strained but clear, which surprised her since everything was still muted due to having earplugs in her ears and after hearing that awful long blast from the gun. She removed the earplugs since they weren't needed anymore.
“What?" she asked, glancing back to the officers behind her but they didn't seem to have said anything.
Two of them were tending to the man in the hopes of keeping him alive, and the third was talking on the radio.
She glanced at the bank and spotted a number of people laying down, still out cold.
"Kal-El," she said again.
He looked up at her with a grimace.
"I--" He cut himself off sharply, pain clear in his eyes as if struck by a blinding migraine.
/I need to get to the Foundation somehow/
She inhaled sharply, for he had not spoken, but there was no question that that was his voice, if somewhat unsteady. But she had heard it. Telepathy?
"Ambulance is on its way!" the officer called to her. "Does he need one?" he asked, referring to Superman.
She frowned, noting how the abrupt volume caused the Kryptonian to tightly close his eyes as his jaw clenched. She quickly made up her mind.
"No, just let me borrow your cruiser. I'll take him to his Foundation," she answered, unequivocally confirming her assumption that sound was causing him more than a little discomfort as he brought his bloodied hand back up to his ear.
The officer tossed her his keys, frowning in question at Superman's abnormal behavior (the superhero was facing away from him and was still not on his feet), but Mayson waved him down. He gave her a nod in understanding, allowing her to do as she saw fit.
Boldly, she put her hand under Superman’s blue covered elbow and pulled up. She was pleased by how he didn’t resist or look at her bewildered, though maybe he cared more about getting to the Foundation than anything else - after all, he was alarmingly unstable. He seemed to be severely veering to the right as if the ground was uneven. Fortunately, the vehicle was not far and she was able to guide him there without too much trouble before opening the front passenger door for him and helping him in.
She hurried around to the driver’s side after closing his door and buckled up before pulling a handkerchief from her breast pocket.
“Here. Pinch the bridge of your nose and look up,” she said as softly as she could.
He gratefully accepted it and did as she directed, but winced sharply as she started the engine.
“Sorry,” she mouthed.
He looked at her through squinted eyes appreciatively before taking a deep breath.
/I wish I knew why it hurts so much/
Mayson tightened her hand on the steering wheel, not sure how to respond to the words in her head.
Heavens above, he better not be able to read her thoughts!
She glanced at him and he didn't seem to notice.
'Kal-El, can you hear me?' she hesitantly thought.
No reaction.
'KAL-EL, HELLO?!'Nothing.
'Hey, why boots, why a cape? Don't you feel ridiculous?'Still nothing.
She mentally sighed in relief and refocused on driving.
The streets to the Foundation were thankfully nearly all clear due to the time being after common business hours, so news of Superman bleeding would hopefully go unreported.
Now, should she go around the back of the building to avoid attention?
She glanced at him in question as they turned onto the street, but found he had his eyes closed. She pursed her lips and put her hand on his forearm to get his attention.
He opened his eyes and motioned toward the back of the building. She turned down the alley and spotted one of the building's security guards by a door. Admittedly impressed by the set up, she slowly approached the curb near the back entrance.
The armed man came to the side of the police car after giving a word into his radio.
“Ma'am, can I help yo--” he started, only to stop as he spotted Superman in the passenger seat. “Kal-El?”
He was reclined in the seat, still looking up and holding the cloth to his nose, but what had caught the guard’s eyes was the red trailing down from Superman’s ear.
“He was hurt by a sound weapon,” Mayson explained quietly. “I figured it best to bring him here instead of the hospital.”
“O-of course. Thank you,” he said quickly, moving to the passenger side and engaging his radio. “Howard, I need your help back here, and tell Charlie to get Dr. Klein here asap. Over.”
“Copy.”
“Paul,” Superman greeted, before grimacing and opening the door.
“He’s sensitive to sound and his balance is off,” Mayson warned as he stepped out.
Gripping the door, Superman proved her latter words to be true as he began to tilt to the right. Not bothering to ask for permission, Paul Isaacs quickly moved to help him as Howard came out of the Foundation and went to Superman's other side.
Mayson followed them into the Foundation, suddenly hesitant. “I need to head back to the precinct, but I'll need to get a statement from him later,” Mayson softly explained.
"No problem. Thank you for bringing him here," Paul said as Charlie and Howard took Superman toward the stairs.
Superman slowed and looked back at her and gave her a thankful nod.
/Thanks, Mayson/
She left with a short wave, and only when she was halfway to the precinct did she realize that that was the first time he had called her by her first name.
O o O o O
Comments
