The rest of the story (the first part is here
Taking Down a God )
“How’s the hand?” Henderson asked Lois when the ER doctors were finished with her. Her hand was swathed in bandages and she was in a wheelchair.
“They’re bringing in an expert to see if they can save any function,” Lois said. “I figure I’m lucky he didn’t break every bone in my body.” She paused. The pain medication was starting to kick-in. Soon she wouldn’t be in any shape to talk. Luckily she had already given her official statement, as meager as it was. There wasn’t a lot to say - she’d been set out as the tethered goat to lure a predator to his death. The ploy had succeeded. Losing a hand was a small price to pay if the world was safe from a super-powered mad man.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life,” she continued. “I’ve no idea what he was going on about. He kept saying he saw me with someone else.”
“The federal agent who was helping us…”
“Scardino?”
Henderson nodded. “He’s missing. We think he may have been spotted handing you the package.”
“Where is the package?” she asked. An hour ago kryptonite was the most valuable mineral on the planet – the only thing capable of hurting Superman. And she’d been the one entrusted with it. Now she wasn't sure where it was.
“Doctor Klein recommended it stay with the body until after the autopsy. The last thing we want is to find out that he had super cell-regeneration. I’m told that Doctor Leek’s notes indicated it was a possibility.”
“Do we have any idea what Luthor was thinking when he commissioned Leek to create a new and ‘improved’ Superman?” Lois asked. She hadn’t been able to ask before. She hadn’t dared admit to anyone that she knew the man in the Superman suit wasn't the real thing.
If Henderson was surprised that she knew, he didn’t show it. “Given that we really haven’t been able to investigate as thoroughly as we needed to for fear of what he would do…” he began. “Apparently Luthor wanted a Superman who was more amenable to his way of thinking that the real one. I guess he should have been more careful about what he wished for.”
“Are you certain there aren’t any more like him hiding somewhere?” Lois asked.
“Fairly certain. We found Leek’s lab. Superman, or whatever his name was, got there before us. There were a couple dozen vats. All occupied, all the occupants dead. They never had a chance.”
“How bad was it?” she asked. Injured or not, she was still a reporter with a reporter’s overwhelming curiosity.
“Let’s just say that the ones he simply ‘disappeared’ were probably the lucky ones,” Henderson said. He shuddered and Lois could only imagine what he’d seen in that lab. And knowing what a super-powered villain could do, Lois suspected her imagination was probably not up to the challenge of imagining how bad it really was.
Henderson took a moment before he went on. “Lois, we don’t know what happened to the real Superman. We assume the imposter killed him the first chance he got. We also don’t dare let the public know that the man who was killed today wasn’t the only one out there.”
“So the government’s not going to rescind the termination order on Superman, even though the imposter is dead?” Lois asked.
“Knowing what the imposter did to this city in the few short weeks he was here, would you take the risk if another one showed up?”
Lois sighed. “I guess not.”
A nurse was waiting impatiently and finally stepped forward. “Miss Lane, we need to get you up to your room. Doctor Prescott will be here in the morning for your surgery.”
“So soon?” she asked.
“Nothing’s too good for the hero of Metropolis,” the nurse said.
Lois stared at the nurse in surprise.
Henderson chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what they’re calling you.”
“I don’t feel much like a hero,” Lois said. “I only did what I had to.”
“That’s what makes a hero,” Henderson said. “Doing what has to be done despite the personal cost.”
The nurse made an impatient noise and started to wheel Lois toward the elevator.
“I’ll check in on you tomorrow,” Henderson promised. “Your sister should be here sometime this evening with any luck. Haven’t been able to reach your parents yet.”
“Thanks, Inspector… for everything.”
“Not a problem,” he said. He started to turn then looked back at her. “Lane, if by some miracle ‘he’ gets in touch with you… make sure he understands about the termination order.”
“I thought you said he was dead,” Lois reminded him.
“I could be wrong.”
-o-o-o-
Elevator ride was quiet. The nurse didn’t seem inclined to start a conversation and Lois was too exhausted to talk any more.
But despite her exhaustion, her thoughts wouldn’t settle down. They skittered around like flies on rotten fruit.
It had all started so innocuously. A plane in trouble at Paris International Airport.
Lois and the other staffers were watching LNN’s coverage on the news monitors.“We are now getting a report that the Seven-Ninety-Seven is making its last circle before it attempts a landing at the Paris International Airport…” the newscaster was saying. “I'm reminded of the vigil for Charles Lindbergh not so far from this spot. Only now, it's a giant airliner with its landing gear and wing flaps inoperative…”
The worry in the newsroom was palpable. It wasn’t simply that it was an American airliner that was in trouble. This particular one was from Metropolis and had two Daily Planet reporters on it on their way to cover a nuclear arms summit.
The newscaster droned on, “…and instead of a lone American pilot, there are 120 passengers and a crew of ten living this last hour in the cold fear of a possible violent death... They're only three minutes from touchdown... In his last circle, the pilot used up all but enough fuel to complete the landing, so this is it...”
“What's going on?” Clark asked from beside her. Lois hadn’t noticed him come onto the bullpen floor.
“Serious situation at Orly,” Perry explained without taking his attention from the screen. “Plane's got no landing gear, about to attempt a landing,”
“Uh... I just remembered, I left my story notes in my car,” Clark stammered out as he headed toward the elevator.
Lois stared at him. “Clark, you don't have a car.”
He paused for a moment. “...in the taxi. My... taxi. I'll just...”
Lois shrugged and turned back to the events on the screen. Clark was in one of his ‘weird’ modes again and she already knew better than to pay him much attention when that happened. She still hadn’t figured out what went on that made him act so odd before he disappeared for minutes, even hours. But she knew it only a matter of time before she uncovered the reason.
“Look!” Jimmy called out.
“I don't believe it...” Perry said. Others in the group echoed his sentiments.
A telephoto lens zoomed in on Superman as he flew alongside the plane.
“This just in. Superman, the famed Man of Steel from Metropolis, is flying alongside the stricken airliner,” the LNN newsman stated. “Superman is setting the big aircraft down, gently as a feather. It's almost on the ground... and now... he's done it! The plane is safe!
Superman has saved the day!”
A cheer went up from the newsroom crowd. Perry turned down the monitor sound as the others headed back to their desks.
Then Lois noticed that Clark was still there. “I thought you left your notes in a taxi,” she said.
He gave her a momentary blank look. “Oh, I had them in my pocket.”
“Uh huh… Clark, some days I swear you’d lose your head if it wasn't tied on tight.”
Clark had the courtesy to look embarrassed by her observation.
By the next day Clark’s weird mode had almost slipped Lois’s mind. She had more important things to worry about.
“It's been three days since Superman has even been seen in Metropolis,” she told him. “Don't you find that just the tiniest bit odd?” She showed him one of the European newspapers from the newsstand. “In the last twenty-four hours Superman's saved an airplane in Paris, righted a sinking ship in Rio, rescued a busload of school children in Surinam, and on and on. Never once talking to the press or even sticking around to see how things came out.”
“What's the point?” Clark asked.
“The point is... why isn't he here? Why isn't he saving sinking ships or rescuing school children in Metropolis like he's always done?”
“You know, Lois, Metropolis doesn't own Superman,” Clark said. “Maybe he's on vacation, maybe he's...”
Lois gave him an expectant look. There were times when Clark almost seemed like he had an inside track with Superman and she hoped this was one of those times.
Clark shook his head. “The truth is, I don't understand it either,” he admitted as they entered the elevator to take them to the newsroom.
“Why is he gallivanting all over the world?” Lois continued. “I left messages for him to call me with every correspondent and news bureau of ours worldwide. Nothing.”
“Don't worry. I have a real strong feeling he'll be back. Soon,” Clark said.
“Reporter's intuition?” Lois teased.
“You don't hold the patent on it, you know,” Clark responded a little too seriously.
“No, but intuition is not something you can just 'pick up.' You're born with it.”
“And?”
“
I was,” Lois teased.
“Congratulations,” Clark said. “Now, what does your intuition tell you about this situation with Superman?”
“Only that there’s something seriously weird going on.”
Lois tried to put her worry about Superman out of her mind. Superman’s escapades across the planet weren’t the only stories out there. But oddly, Metropolis was quiet. No hold ups or robberies – even drug crime was down. It was almost as though someone had told Metropolis’s criminal element to take a vacation.
She finished her assigned stories, as dull as they were, then checked on Clark. He was examining photos of the previous day’s near-disaster at Orly. His expression was troubled.
“And I thought I was the biggest Superman fan in Metropolis” Lois joked. “Maybe you should join his fan club. You'll get a button.”
Clark shook his head.
“What do you think you’re going to find in those photos?” Lois asked.
“I don’t know,” Clark said. “Some clue as to what’s been going on?”
“There’s no doubt it has to be Superman,” Lois said. “Who else can fly like that?”
“But what if it isn’t him?” Clark asked.
“Clark, just because he didn’t bother to tell either of us what’s going on with him doesn’t mean there’s something that weird going on. I mean, it’s not like he has a twin brother or anything.”
Clark just looked at her.
“He would have told one of us if he had a twin brother, right?” Lois said.
“I guess so.”
“You know so. So it has to be him. Okay, I admit that I had the gall to believe that Superman was mine... uh... Metropolis's,” Lois admitted. “I mean, unselfishly speaking, I suppose he should belong to the world. But then again, selfishly speaking... I thought this was his home.”
“It is,” Clark said. “He's as much as said so.”
“Maybe. But the fact remains: I have no hold on him at all.”
Clark smiled. “Lois, you'd be surprised. You... Metropolis… has a stronger hold on Superman than you may think.”
“In that case, why haven’t we seen him in Metropolis? And why hasn’t he gotten in touch with me?”
“Lois!” Perry called out, interrupting her plaint. “Robbery and hostage situation at the Metropolis Merchant's Bank. Shake a leg.”
Clark started to follow her when Perry yelled once more. “Clark, aren’t you supposed to be on the mayor’s town hall meeting in Brookline?”
“On it, chief,” Clark said as the elevator doors closed behind Lois.
-o-o-o-
Lois’s cab deposited her a short distance from the bank. Cop cars were blocking the street in front of the bank but no one seemed concerned or tense.
Lois spotted one of her police contacts and hurried over to him. “Joe, what happened?”
“Tense stand-off until Superman got here,” Joe said.
“He's here? In Metropolis?”
Joe nodded. “He flew in the top floor window, apprehended the perp, freed the hostages. He's over there,” Joe added, pointing to a police van with his chin. Two officers were loading a handcuffed man into the back of the van while Superman looked on.
“Superman! Superman! You're back!” Lois called out. Superman didn’t seem to hear her.
Suddenly the handcuffed man broke free from the two officers and began to run.
Then, almost too fast to see, Superman grabbed the escapee and tossed him into the back of the van. He crumpled to the floor.
“Superman?” Lois said as she walked toward the red caped man.
“Yes?” He didn’t seem to recognize her.
“It's me. Lois.”
He looked her up and down and gave her a look that was more than a little leering. Then he flew off.
-o-o-o-
“Clark, we have to talk. There's something wrong with Superman!” Lois announced as soon as she caught sight of Clark in the newsroom. “I watched him toss this robbery suspect into a police van from twenty feet away. Knocked the guy out cold. Superman wouldn't do that.”
“Are you saying you saw Superman? He's in Metropolis?” Clark asked. He seemed both worried and excited.
“Earth to Clark. Yes. I saw him this morning,” Lois stated. “Merchant's Bank, hostage situation. Don’t you listen to the news?”
“Brookline, the mayor’s town hall meeting. Remember?”
Lois shrugged. “Well anyway... when I looked at him, it was almost as if he didn't recognize me. In fact, he smirked at me. Superman doesn't smirk. It's like...”
“What?” Clark prompted.
“I don't know,” Lois said, suddenly at a loss. “He's just... bizarro, that's all. I wish I could talk to him in private.”
Clark nodded in agreement.
The afternoon was quiet again – no other violent crimes, no other Superman sightings. The armed man from the bank was in the hospital with a fractured skull and severe concussion but would probably survive. There were murmurs from the officers on the scene that while they appreciated Superman’s assistance, his use of excessive force was… excessive.
It was nearly time to leave for home when a messenger showed up with a letter. “Lois Lane?”
“Yes?” She reached for the letter but the messenger pulled back.
“I'm supposed to wait for a response,” he said, holding out a clip board to her.
Lois signed for the letter and the messenger waited as she tore open the envelope. It was very good, very elegant, stationery. It was almost a shame to tear it.
She smiled as she read the letter. Dear Lois: Please forgive me my behavior today. I have so much to tell you. May I see you tonight?
I could be at your place at nine.
Please say yes. Yours, Superman.
“The answer is a definite yes,” she told the messenger. The messenger hurried away.
Clark took the letter from Lois’s hand and peered at it. Then he held it up to the light to see through the paper. “I’ve seen this paper before.”
“Stationery is sold all over the city, Clark. This just means he has elegant taste.”
“Did you notice the watermark?”
“Watermark?”
He pointed it out. The Lexcorp logo – LL inside a circle. “Why would Superman be using Lexcorp stationery?”
“I’ll ask him when I see him,” she said.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Clark asked. “I mean, you said it yourself. He’s acting bizarro. It might be dangerous.”
“Superman would never hurt me,” Lois assured him.
Clark didn’t look convinced.
-o-o-o-
It was nearly nine. The table was perfect, the salad was ready as was the pasta Primavera – luckily the cans had very easy to follow instructions.
She had just finished lighting the tapers when she heard a familiar whoosh. Superman was standing there. But there was something off about him. He seemed nervous. Superman had never seemed nervous around her before.
“Oh. Hello. You're a little early,” she said.
“Is that okay?” He seemed eager to please.
“Sure. Everything's ready… Would you like something to drink?”
“Drink? I guess so. I mean, I don't really need to,” he said.
“Well, nobody needs champagne, but that's what makes life interesting,
n'est pas?” she told him, holding up a chilled champagne bottle.
“Life is interesting,” he said, moving close to her. Superman had never been so forward before. She popped the cork on the champagne and a small amount of the bubbly liquid ran down the side of the cold bottle.
“You spilled,” he observed. Again she was struck with a sense of the bizarre. She was certain Superman knew about champagne, and although he had mentioned not needing to eat or drink in their first interview, it wasn’t something he had ever commented on after that – he usually accepted tea or coffee or soda when she offered it.
Lois poured them each a glass.
“You look really hot,” he said.
“Oh. Thanks.” Alarm bells were ringing even more loudly in her head. Superman had always maintained a courteous, ever professional, demeanor. It was Lois whose behavior had been less than platonic.
“Can we sit on the sofa?” he asked, taking her hand and leading her to the sofa. She sipped her champagne. The pasta and salad would be okay for a few minutes.
He edged closer to her, faked a yawn and stretch, then put his arm around her like a callow teen in a dark theater.
“Do you like me?” he asked abruptly.
“Of course. You know I do,” she said, moving away just a little. “Although, I am a little concerned about your behavior lately.”
“I haven't done anything wrong.” There was an ugly tone in his voice.
“It's just that I saw you throw that man and...” she began.
“Might is right, he said, cutting her off. “How about a kiss?”
She just looked at him. There was something seriously wrong. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into a hard kiss. She tied to push him away but he was too strong.
“Am I interrupting?” Clark said from somewhere close. Superman was distracted and Lois was able to break free.
“Clark!” She rushed over to him and he put a protective arm around her shoulder. It felt safe to be there. Clark wasn’t super but she knew he would do everything in his power to protect her.
Superman stood and faced him. Lois had never seen Clark and Superman together. Abruptly she realized they were exactly the same height and coloring. And Clark’s expression was far more akin to Superman’s normal persona than this person in the Superman costume.
“Go away,” Superman ordered.
“I think Lois wants me to stay,” Clark said.
“Yes! I do! Please,” Lois said.
Superman stepped up to Clark. Clark dropped his arm from Lois’s shoulder and gently pushed her away. Superman raised a hand to grab Clark but Clark grabbed his wrist instead. There was a momentary flicker of surprise in Superman’s face. Then he struck Clark’s left arm with both fists, sending him flying across the room.
To Lois’s astonishment, Clark got back on his feet although his arm seemed to be just hanging.
“Don’t you get it?” Superman sneered. “You can’t fight a god. And I’m a god.”
“No, you’re not,” Clark managed to say. “And I’ll do everything I can to stop you.”
“Are you stupid or what?” Superman asked. “I’m the new, improved, version. No one can stand against me. Not you, not anyone.”
“I can try.”
Superman’s expression turned even uglier. He struck Clark across the face. Clark actually stayed standing, swinging at Superman with his good arm. Suddenly they were both moving too fast for Lois to keep track except in terms of broken furniture and walls. Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. Clark was on the floor in a heap and Superman was stalking towards him, open hatred on his face.
Without even thinking about it, Lois threw herself across Clark’s unconscious form. “Leave him alone!” she shouted at the man in the costume. “Superman is supposed to stand for truth and justice. He’s supposed to make the world a better place, not attack people who disagree with him.”
Superman, or whoever he was, stopped. “Might makes right,” he repeated.
“That’s what tyrants always say,” Lois spat. “And they always come to a bad end. Remember your history?”
“History is written by the winners.”
“History is written by the survivors,” Lois corrected. “And the truth always comes out.”
Superman disappeared with a whoosh and a sonic boom.
Exhausted, Lois got to her knees, taking her weight off of Clark’s broken body. Incredibly, his eyes were open and he was watching her.
“You kept him from killing me,” he managed to say.
“Save your strength,” she ordered as she got to her feet to find her phone. Miraculously, it was intact and working. She punched in 9-1-1.
“Lois,” he continued. “You have to stop him.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?” she asked.
“I don’t know. But you have to try.” With that he closed his eyes and went still.
“Clark?”
"Miss Lane?" the nurse's voice intruded. They were already at her room.
"Yes?" Lois asked. She hadn't been aware that she'd spoken aloud.
"Are you all right?"
"As well as can be expected, I guess," Lois said. "It's been a long hard couple of weeks."
"Well, thing will look better once you've had some rest."
"I guess so," Lois agreed. At least the imposter was finally dead. Vatman was written by Michael Norell and directed by Randall Zisk
