Chapter 5
WHAM
My head splits against a wall and I moan. Ultra-violet light blinds me, the heat searing away my flesh. I struggle to breathe. My insides writhe and twist in agony. I scream and crumble to the ground. This is no earthly weapon.
Bullets zip towards the robber but they skid off him harmlessly. He's wearing some sort of futuristic black suit that has a built-in force field. The weapon he aims at me is as big as an IP-2 machine gun but ten times deadlier. I clench my teeth. It feels like I am being torn in half, my other half stranded in another universe.
I imagine a steel vault and lock my emotions inside. A scream tears out of my throat as I push through the deadly ray. The screams of the civilians huddled inside the bank echo in my head. Their desperate pleas give me the will to go on. There are people that need me to stay strong for their sake. I can't curl in a ball and hope for the best. There's no one between this psycho and the civilians except me. I can't afford to fail, even if I die trying.
I give one last desperate burst of speed and rip the plasma rifle out of the robber's hand. The impact causes him to fall back against the front desk. The receptionist shrieks and runs away. Smart choice.
"Honestly," I wheeze, stumbling to my feet. "You'll think after an alien invasion, you'll learn not to play with things you don't understand." I hover above him. The robber watches horrorstruck as his precious Apokolips tech resorts to a ball of ash. I turn my fiery gaze on him. He cowers at my feet.
"I have rights!" he screams. "It's my right to protect myself from the likes of you!" His voice trembles. Instinctively my eyes flare, the pain rattling my teeth.
"I'm not the one aiming a gun at innocent people," I bend down, my muscles grinding in protest, and haul him to his feet. I slam him against the wall and don't pause when I hear the snap of his back. Another memory crawls to the surface, but I lock it away and throw the key away. "Who's your provider?" I snarl.
His breath reeks of whiskey and it awakens an old wound. I tighten my fingers, enough for him to know I mean business. He claws at his throat, his eyes bulging out. The tender flesh feels good in my grasp. "I don't take Apokolips tech in my city lightly. Start talking." I glare at him. "Is it Intergang?" I punch a hole through the wall. "Answer me!" I shake him and he starts to cackle. "Is Manheim your supplier?"
"There's no . . . stopping," he wheezes. "What's coming. You're a dead man, Superman." His face morphs and twists till I'm staring at the grinning face of Moxie Manheim. He mocks my pain. The sharp cackle suffocates me. All those terrible nights alone with him soar through my mind. My fist connects with his jaw and I hear a satisfying crack. I see red. My red blood stains the laboratory's walls. Nobody will miss you, Kal El. The acidy prick of Kryptonite coursed through my veins. Voices echo in my head. Some sound familiar, but I hear nothing beyond the cacophony of my heart. You're a monster, Kal El. An abomination.
A rough calloused hand rests on my shoulder and I tense. "Kal El, you're killing him!" Turpin's terrified face swims through the red haze. "Release him now, son! Don't make me use this on you."
I feel the hard point of a gun on the small of my back. It's no ordinary handgun. The scent of toxic kryptonite makes my eyes sting. My heart leaps to my throat. There's only one man I know with access to such a weapon. My body is riddled with the evidence of his toys. The robber gasps as I release him and he crumbles to the floor. I act on instinct, arm lashing out and throwing the gunman across the room. I'd die before I allow Manheim to take me again. Two armored crooks surge toward the fallen gunman and help him up.
"He's gone mad," he says. The second soldier is a woman, her eyes laden with trepidation. Her mouth quivers as she aims a gun at my head. Fear takes root in my belly. One trigger and it's back to the lab. The stench of blood pierces my nostrils. My blood. I glare at the gun, my eyes instinctively heating up. The woman shrieks and drops the scathing hot weapon, her tender flesh red with third-degree bones. One down two to go. I dash to her partner's side and elbow him in the ribs. He coughs and sputters collapsing to the floor. I'm so close to escaping I can taste the snow.
"Stay away . . . I'm not going back," I stammer, a tremor in my voice. The gunman stands up and starts to slink toward me. I flinch and step back, my abdomen flaring in pain. Hot liquid streams down my back. There's something familiar about him, but I can't see anything beyond Manheim's grotesque face obscuring my vision.
"Steady, son," He holds up his hands in a placating manner as if he's trying to herd me back to the lab. "We're all friends here."
"You're not my friend," I snarl. Friends don't keep kryptonite weapons. Even encased in a barrel of steel I can feel the sickening effects of the kryptonite bullet. My head spins. I lunge at him, pushing through the pain. I pull my fist back, prepared to end Manheim if necessary. It's me or him.
"Smallville!" Lois' voice cuts through the haze. Without a single ounce of fear, she marches toward me and takes my hand. Gently she places my trembling hand on her bosom. Her lulling heartbeat greets me, a symphony of love.
I frown at her. "Are you real?" Lois had haunted my dreams for so long, but I thought I would never see her again.
She stands on her tiptoes and kisses me. "All is well," she whispers against my parted mouth. "You're home."
Home. Lois. The Planet. Metropolis. I shake my head, vision clearing. Detective Turpin watches me with naked fear, gun at the ready, but there's an underlayer of concern in his firm jaw. Blood drips from a cut on his lip. His partner, Maggie Sawyer cradles her burnt hand as she attends to the rookie cop I knocked out.
"I'm sorry," I choke out. "I thought . . . that's no excuse." I count to ten, the lull of Lois' heart, calming my nerves. Warm, red liquid coats my knuckles. I recoil at the sight. And suddenly the sound of silence pierces my eyes.
"Superman, you don't look so. . .?"
I don't remember passing out. I blink awake and stare up at the bright sun. I soak in the warmth and flinch. No, I'm not outside. Two large sun lamps glare down at me. I groan. It feels like a woodpecker is chasing a worm inside my head. I lift my arm and falter when I can't. A thick strap holds me in place. I start to hyperventilate. The last time I woke up tied on a lab table, Boss Moxie was experimenting on me. I tighten my muscles and try to break loose. I crane my neck searching for any clue as to where I am, but it seems like a nondescript underground clinic or possibly a lab. My heart leaps in my throat. It's Moxie all over. That explains the ache in my chest.
My muscles strain against the binds holding me firm. I let out a cry of frustration. No not again. Any second now the needles will plunge into my side. I struggle to breathe. An asteroid blocks out all of space. A heavy weight presses down on my stomach.
"Steady, Clark," I flinch at the sudden touch.
Uncle Emil pushes me back onto the cot. "You were shot by a Quantum Disruptor. You're lucky to be still standing."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I'm not in some supervillain's lair. It's just Uncle Emil. I shake my head. He's making that up. I wasn't shot. I would remember something like that. I frown. Last I remember Cat was pitching a story in the conference room. A story about Superman and Luthor. No, that doesn't sound right. Lois was angry with me . . . something to do with being the worst kind of criminal on the planet. Perry partnered me with Cat Grant of all people. We were supposed to interview someone. But why? I've got this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me it's not a story I will like.
I gasp, a small nugget of a memory leaking through the cracks. Lana Lang's hot lips against mine - the taste of rootbeer down my throat. That can't be right. Lois is supposed to be the one in my life. Am I in an alternate universe? It won't be the first time that happened. I simply need to figure out the rules of this world . . . and find a way to get home fast.
"I need to find Lois!" I fight against the binds holding me down and fall back down. This is disconcerting. I should be able to break out of this easy peasy.
"You're not going anywhere," Uncle Emil says curtly. "Due to the velocity you flew through Nightfall and your time with Intergang, your body has been completely filled with kryptonite and charge shards."
"That was months ago!" I protest, my memory slowly trickling back. That's when I notice the needle inserted in my arm. The I.V. is connected to a bag of human blood. No not human. Through the familiar metallic tint, there is an underlayer of something that is not quite human.
"I'm not finished," he grinds out. "The Kryptonite in your system is hindering your natural healing capabilities. The more you use your powers the harder it is going to be for your body to expel the poison in your system. To put it in layman's terms, Superman needs to go on a long vacation . . . preferably somewhere where the sun never sets," he suggests. "Stopping the robbery was a grave lapse in judgment. All the progress you made in the last two months went down the drain!"
"What was I supposed to do?" I scream. "Let Lana be attacked?"
Uncle Emil frowns. "I didn't say anything about Lana." He raises a thin-gray eyebrow at me. "What exactly do you remember of the past forty-eight hours?"
"Two days!" I gasp. "I've been out for two whole days!" I avoid his questions like a pro.
"Clark," Uncle Emil warns. "Answer me. I am your doctor. I can't help you if you're not honest with me."
I grit my teeth. "Cat Grant was picking out an outfit for some important interview." My frown deepens. The image of Andrina crashing her lips over mine dances across my vision. "Did I break up with Lois?" I would never in good conscience cheat on Lois. She's too important. "Oh," I realize, as more details come to my mind - scarlet cape, aching limbs, a green orb shooting me with kryptonite. "Superman kissed Andrina." Not Clark Kent.
Uncle Emil exhales. "Terrific. Your memory isn't completely fried." He pats me on the chest. "But just so you know, that happened three days ago."
"Wait, that actually happened?" I ask incredulously. "That can't be right."
"Clark," Uncle Emil laughs. "You never think clearly when Lana Lang is involved."
"But Lois . . ."
"Lois is the one that told me," Uncle Emil supplies. "She was devastated."
"How does she know about that?" Andrina kissed Superman in her penthouse . . . there was no one around for miles. Oh. The puzzle pieces start to fall into place. The photograph Cat Grant snapped of us - with video too. Sam Lando brokering a deal with Cat to keep the story under wraps.
"I need to get to the Planet." I gasp. "You've got to let me go now! My life is in danger!"
Uncle Emil laughs. "You're right. It is."
"I'm serious!" I protest. "I have to fix this."
"You have shown me, time and time again, that you are incapable of not being Superman. I'm sorry Clark, but for your own well being you must stay here," he commands. "The police are quite equipped to handle any threats that come up."
"Cops can't do what I can do," I grit out.
"We can do a hell of a lot more than you at present," Turpin growls, stepping into the lab. I swallow audibly. There's a purple bruise on his left cheek, about the size of my hand.
"I really must protest," Uncle Emil warns. "My patient is not fit for an . . ."
"Protest all you want Doc," Detective Turpin flashes his Special Crimes Unit badge. "I'm here on official business. Your patient assaulted an officer and nearly killed a civilian Now scat before I change my mind and arrest you for abetting and aiding a criminal."
"Now you've done it, son," Uncle Emil shoots me a look of disappointment and leaves.
Turpin studies me with a stony expression. A lump forms in my throat at the sight of the bruise. It was never my intention to hurt anyone. I open my mouth to apologize but no words come out. There is no excuse for what I did. I had a panic attack isn't going to hold up in court.
"You've really put me in a tight spot," Turpin grumbles, folding his hands behind his back and starting to pace. "The commiss wants your head on a spike. Three officers were wounded trying to stop you." If he's trying to make me feel worse than I already feel, it's working. "It's not like you to lose control," he observes.
"Are they going to be okay?"
"They're a bit shaken up, but they'd live," Turpin's gaze sweeps over me and comes to rest on my bare chest, his expression stern. "Those scars are not from Nightfall," he states simply, eying the tender tissue with a mixture of worry and loathing. There's no judgment or malevolent intent in his tone. "Who did this to you, Superman?"
I move to cover the scar, but the binds hold me back. I feel naked and exposed, an alien species on display at a zoo. I've only allowed a handful of people to see the gift Moxie left me. Lois was one of the few to see the full extent of my injuries. I couldn't live with myself if the public were to find out exactly how broken I am. Better they go on believing Nightfall was the only villain I fought.
"It's okay, son," Turpin squeezes my hand. I stifle a gasp of surprise at his tender touch. "You're not going to be arrested," he reassures. "But you gotta throw me a bone here," he says. "I can't help you if you're not honest with me."
"You can't help me," I say. "No one can help me." He won't believe me if I told him the truth. Lois and I needed to gather more evidence on Intergang before we came clean to the public about Moxie.
"Was it Luthor?" I shake my head. Though I won't put it past Lex to be the mastermind behind my capture. "You've got nothing to fear, Kal El," he reassures. "You can trust me." Turpin has been with me from the very beginning, even before I knew what or who I am. It feels like a betrayal keeping him in the dark about everything.
"These people are not to be trifled with," I explain. "I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you, Detective."
"I've been fighting the good fight since before you were in diapers, son." He says.
"Not this fight," I say.
He can't fight an enemy he can't see. Intergang's fingerprints are in the very foundation of Metropolis. They've spent decades shaping the city from the shadows. Each time a head of Intergang falls, they rise from the ashes stronger and deadlier than before. Moxie Manheim is no exception. He literally rose from the dead to reclaim his throne, but I have no proof, save the scar on my chest. Turpin will think me mad. Dead men don't just get up and walk out of their graves.
"Fine," Turpin growls. "I can't force you to talk, but let me tell you what I can do," he glowers at me. "I can tell the mayor we've got an alien suffering from PTSD on the loose who can't be trusted to act in Metropolis' best interest."
"You can trust me," I say.
"Can I?" Detective Turpin asks. "You assaulted three officers and came close to committing second-degree murder." I wince at his harsh tone. "And now you're obstructing justice, that alone is five years in prison."
"How?" I gape at him. "There is no investigation underway. . ."
"The moment I saw signs of torture an investigation was opened," he glares with untapped anger at the El-shaped scar on my chest. "I don't take kindly to my people being attacked."
"I'm sorry," I apologize. "It won't happen again, sir." It was a moment of weakness. I won't let my emotions get the better of me again.
"Like hell, it's not!" he snaps. "I am going to catch the sick bastard that did this to you!"
My mouth parts in surprise at the passion in his voice. His words slowly sink in and I can't quite wrap my head around a cop sticking up for me. "You'll do that for me?"
"Damn straight," he says crisply. "Nobody messes with Turpin's team!"
"But I'm not one of you . . ." I never was. I'm an inconvenience to most of the force, a reminder that they are inept at their job and can't go a day without Superman saving their bacon.
"I would have never pushed for you to be deputized if that was the case," he says tenderly. "Now which lowlife scum has an appointment with the gallows?"
"I'm sorry . . . I can't," I start to explain. "You won't believe . . ."
"It was Moxie Manheim," Lois pushes through the cracked door, her eyes misty. I wince. She looks as if she's been crying. She offers Turpin a grateful smile. I must be really out of it if I couldn't hear her eavesdropping in the hallway. I open my mouth to protest but she silences me with a calculated look. She silently warns me to let her do the talking. She's making a big mistake.
"The Mobster from the 1940s?" he looks dubiously at me. "You're shitting me," he shakes his head. "I thought he was dead."
"Clark and I are investigating a possible drug that can resurrect the dead," she informs him. I want to tell her to shut up! It's on a need-to-know basis. The last thing we need is cops taking our evidence. "We believe the drug is made from kryptonite."
"Is that what he used on you?"
"Not exactly," I look away.
Turpin swears colorfully and locks eyes with Lois. "What else you got for me, Lane?"
"Nothing," I cut her off. "This isn't police business."
"He can help us," Lois squeezes my arm reassuringly. "Superman was held at a stronghold in Alaska. Somehow Manheim had gotten ahold of alien technology he tested out on Superman." Discretely Lois' hand closes around my shaking fist. "It is our belief Manheim has connections in Metropolis that are waiting for the opportune moment to strike again."
"These connections won't happen to be Intergang?"
"You know about them?"
"I told you, son, I've been fighting a lot longer than you."
"Then how come Intergang members are still walking free?" Lois demands. "It's high time we end them."
"Easier said than done," Turpin grumbles. "Intergang has connections as high as the White House."
"There's got to be something we can do!" Lois persists. "As long as they're still out there Clah . . . Kal-El isn't safe."
"Send me what you have," Detective Turpin offers a wan smile. "We put our heads together I'm sure we can hit Manheim where it hurts."
"How do I know you're not on his payroll?" Lois crosses her arms heatedly and glares at the detective.
"Lois!" I can't believe her hypocrisy. Only seconds ago she was more than happy to spill her guts to Turpin. "Not everybody is a villain."
"Until proven innocent we have to be vigilant."
"You're sounding more and more like Batman every day."
"At least one of us is!" Lois retorts. "You can't be too careful. Trusting the wrong people is what landed you in this shitshow, to begin with."
I grind my teeth. There are a million different ways I could take that comment. You trusted Lana Lang and wound up with a scandal on your hands. You trusted a junkie who is selling information to Intergang about Superman. But I know Lois too well. She's referring to Nightfall.
"I never said I trusted the General," I say. "I couldn't say no to him!"
"He should have told you the truth!" she screams in my face. "You should have taken backup!"
Detective Turpin watches the whole exchange with thinly veiled amusement. Lois is acting crazy! Crazier than usual. One moment she's all sappy and then suddenly she jumps off the bandwagon and is downright murderous.
She's not going to let that drop. "The world was in danger, I couldn't say no."
"I never want you to stop saving the world," Lois says. "But you've got to be smart about it. We could have avoided this whole fiasco if you told . . ."
"If I told you what?" I challenge. "That Nightfall was made of Kryptonite? I had no idea." I lock eyes with Turpin and sigh. "Do you mind if you give us a moment alone?"
"Alright," he relents. He shakes his head and laughs. "Sometimes I swear you two are an old married couple." I roll my eyes. We might as well be.
"What's gotten into you?" I ask. "Need I remind you it was your brilliant idea to include Turpin in our investigation?"
Lois sits down on the cot and groans. "He almost shot you."
"I wish he did," It would have saved me from a mountain of pain.
"Oh, Clark," she whimpers, crawling toward me and snuggling against my left side. "You mustn't say things like that," she wraps her arms around my torso. If it weren't for this goddamn strap holding me down, I would already have her. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'd find a nice, normal guy and live a full life, free of aliens and kidnappings."
"That sounds miserable," she yawns, eyes growing heavy. "I'd die of boredom."