Metropolis - Blood (part 2B)
It was just before eight in the morning as Clark Kent walked up Brighten Drive; a pristine street that was part of a pristine subdivision in the suburbs of Metropolis. Despite Perry’s promise to give Lois and Clark the day off, but because the news never waited and the traffic situation had left him short-handed, Perry had called Clark at his apartment barely two minutes ago about the police and coroner being called to 11347 Brighten Drive and if he could go check it out. Perry had tried calling Lois first, but there’d been no answer. Clark wasn’t surprised; she was probably still dead asleep after two days of not sleeping at all. Even he’d needed a record four hours of sleep to recover after that particular ordeal.
Clark could have stopped by and checked he supposed; it would have taken all of two seconds. But if Lois really was getting a good night’s sleep for once in her life he was loathe to disturb it; especially for something so routine. His super-hearing certainly hadn’t picked up one of her nightmare induced screams; which Clark took to be a good sign. Besides he was meeting her at the Daily Planet in less than an hour and he could wait to see her until then; if he used every ounce of his willpower. Compared to the seeming lifetime he’d waited to be with her, an hour was nothing.
His father had once warned him that it was impossible to stay best friends with a woman. At the time he’d thought his father was crazy; after all he’d been friends with Lois for years. Indeed, though he had shared the secret of his powers with Pete Ross it had been Lois with whom he’d been able to be the most honest about the things that really mattered. Even before Pete and Lana Lang had drifted out of his life he had grown steadily closer to Lois, bound by their shared goals of uncovering the truth and seeing that Lionel Luthor faced justice for his crimes. Lois was, without doubt, his best friend.
Yet now that he was older Clark understood the nuances of his father’s words; it was nearly impossible to stay just best friends with a woman because friendship was such a big part of love. It was the glue that held a lasting relationship together between the peaks and valleys of passion and it was such a small step from close friendship to romantic feelings.
He couldn’t count the number of times growing up where there had been moments when it seemed like his friendship with Lois could have become something more. Yet, in all those times one or the other of them just wasn’t in the right place for it to work just then. Mostly it had been his fault, he was more than willing to admit. His adolescent hang up on a dream named Lana Lang. But he’d woken up a long time ago and this time all it had taken was a single moment when they’d both been in the right place and now Lois wasn’t just his best friend, she was his girlfriend.
Girlfriend. Clark had to admit that he liked being able to apply the word to Lois. Yet at the same time it felt wholly inadequate to describe the woman who’d been his best and most intimate friend for almost half his life. He found himself thinking back to the word Brainiac had used and actually found one thing he agreed with that alien intelligence on.
Amara. ‘Chosen’ is how he’d translated it for Lois but, as he’d told her, that didn’t begin to cover it. There were nuances of eternity and infinity; as if across every possibility they had always been together and always would be. In the end it was a word easier to define by inference; Lois Lane was his Amara.
It seemed so utterly silly now, but he could still remember how scared he’d been when she’d discovered his powers just a few short months ago. He had carried the knowledge of what that revelation had done to his friendship with Pete for years and he had come to believe that he was always going to be alone to a certain extent; unable to share who he really was with anyone. Pete had never quite been able to see him as just Clark after he’d found out and, though he could withstand many things, Clark could not bear the thought that Lois might look at him that way too. He should have known better.
Maybe it was that they were both older than when he’d revealed his secret to Pete or maybe it was just something intrinsic to Lois’ character, but even when she stumbled onto his powers she had never stopped seeing him as just Clark Kent. That acceptance of him had made all the difference these last few months; it gave him a strength that his powers alone could not begin to equal; Lois was what made him Superman.
Superman. It was an idea so crazy that only Lois could have come up with it. The idea that a brilliant costume on one hand and a pair of glasses coupled with a mild manner on the other could allow him to hide in plain sight was ridiculous on its face, but so far it seemed to be working. Again he should have known better. As a trained observer and investigator Lois knew how people looked at the world and how most saw only what they wanted to see.
Indeed, the simplest of disguises seemed to work the best; as Lois had demonstrated by hiding behind the simplest disguise of all; a name and a career where that name was far more recognizable than her face. Clark knew all about the blacklisting efforts by various old cronies of Lionel Luthor that made it all but impossible for Chloe Sullivan to find work anywhere in the field of journalism, but given the fame now associated with the name Lois Lane he sometimes wondered just how the Planet’s board would react if they were told the truth about just who their star reporter really was.
He imagined it would be a lot like some of the reactions he’d gotten from his fellow reporters upon learning that he and Lois had scored their second ‘exclusive interview’ with Superman. A lot of bluster and outrage about something they couldn’t do a thing to change.
It wasn’t like ‘Superman’ had had a lot of choice in the matter either. Though he’d gotten better at making himself seem different as Superman; the latest trick he’d been practicing was shifting the frequency of his x-ray vision down into the visible range so he could make his eyes visibly glow; he still preferred to rely on simply not sticking around long enough to be seen if at all possible. Regardless, as a figment of the imagination it was up to his creators to speak for him and that was Lois and himself. Still, all the bluster and outrage preceded by the months of distrust and at times outright condemnation by the press made Superman coming to them for a second time seem plausible, which was why they’d gone ahead and written the story.
It was rather ironic really. When he and Lois had first come up with the idea of Superman they’d gone out of their way to distance themselves from their creation so that people wouldn’t suspect that Superman was just Clark in a costume. It had been incredibly frustrating to have to listen to all the attacks from their fellow journalists with no real way to respond. Now those same journalists had pretty much guaranteed that no one would think twice about why Superman would only trust Lois and Clark when it came to making statements in the future.
Not that Clark was planning on making a habit of it. The whole point of Superman was to protect his family and friends from those looking to exploit his powers or exact revenge for having thwarted their plans. If people thought that he or Lois could just call up Superman on the phone whenever they needed him that would pretty much defeat the whole purpose of the disguise. For that reason alone, Superman was going to hold on to the mystique his silence had garnered as much as possible and he and Lois were going to be getting their stories the old fashioned way; keep their eyes and ears open and ask lots of questions.
Well, that reason and because Clark didn’t exactly like being on the other side of the story. It was probably his parents’ doing; the way they’d always encouraged him to protect his secrets to the point that the most Lois had been able to get out of him during an interview in high school was that he didn’t like peas… and that had come from his mom. He wasn’t fond of being on the receiving end of probing questions, but in an effort to keep the story professional and keep it from feeling too much like they were just making it up as opposed to reporting the news he’d actually sat down with Lois and let her interview him, as Superman, for real.
After answering the questions raised by Lex’s story their interview had gone on to talk about the reasons Kal-El had been sent on his mission of conquest; how Kal-El was the last of his people and, with Brainiac destroyed, the threat that his people posed to Earth was hopefully over.
‘Hopefully?’ Lois had asked.
‘Brainiac proved that even when you think they’ve been utterly destroyed some evils refuse to stay buried,’ he had responded. The fact of the matter was that he just didn’t know if Brainiac was finally the last dying gasp of Krypton, as he’d believed the A.I. that Jor-El had sent with his ship had been before, or whether it was just another in the seemingly endless line of evils emanating from that dead world.
‘Evil is an interesting choice of words. Does that mean you think of your people as evil?’ Lois had asked off his response.
Clark had considered that one carefully before answering. Leave it to Lois to hit him with that one.
‘I’d like to think that, like everyone else, they were a mixture of good and bad,’ he’d said finally. ‘But when I look at what Brainiac was prepared to do in their name… I find it very hard to see the good; hard to not hate everything about them.’
‘Is that why you do what you do?’ Lois had asked. ‘Why you try to help people? Are you trying to make up for what your people have done?’
Clark smiled at the memory. Leave it to Lois to also always have a point to make when asking the hard questions. She knew him so well that she’d probably known his answers before she’d even asked and she knew his answer to the last question would make the perfect lead for that next one.
‘In part,’ he’d replied. ‘Mostly though I’m just trying to live up to the example set by some good people I’ve had the privilege of knowing here on Earth. I’d much rather focus on the positives than negatives. For every evil visited upon Earth by Brainiac there were a thousand acts of courage and sacrifice and goodness by the people of this city. I might have many gifts, but they don’t make me a hero. Not to sound like a public service announcement, but it’s what you do with whatever gifts you have that make you a hero.’
‘Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ Kal-El had concluded. ‘I have to get back to work.’
Speaking of getting back to work.
As he rounded the corner Clark could now see the yellow police tape which surrounded the otherwise unremarkable home that the police had been called to. There was already a small crowd of neighbors standing at the edge of the tape; bystanders always seemed to be drawn to the possibility of anything morbid. Technically he was a bystander too, as were the occupants of the KGBS news van he spotted around the corner around the corner. The difference between him and the people from KGBS and everyone else was that they weren’t there to gawk; they were here as part of their job. Like he’d said before; eyes and ears open; ask lots of questions.
When it came to the former Clark had some definite advantages over his fellow reporters. While everyone else was stuck waiting and watching the front of an otherwise unremarkable house, Clark could have a look inside. Clark’s vision seemed to flicker as his x-ray vision kicked in and the world suddenly looked like a very different place. With nothing in the sky for the energy being emitted by his eyes to reflect off of the bright morning sky became as black as pitch to him. At the same time the building became ghostly and nearly transparent as the wavelength his eyes were emitting penetrated the wood like it was barely there. What it did not penetrate so easily was metal and bone. So along with the many copper pipes and electrical lines running through the house Clark could also see clusters of seemingly florescent skeletons standing around inside and two sets that were clearly not going to be moving of their own volition ever again.
With a sound like a rushing wind Clark’s super hearing focused in on the house and the sounds within; To Clark it felt as if his ears were actually moving rapidly over the distance between himself and where he was trying to listen. Actually, that wasn’t too far off the mark. When he focused on a distant point the gravity field which gave him many of his powers somehow reached out and conducted the sounds vibrations from that distant point to his ears rather like a tin can and string telephone could. He suspected there was a big subconscious element to it as well; that was the only explanation he had for why his hearing seemed to pick up on Lois and desperate calls for help even when he wasn’t specifically focusing on anything in particular. Regardless of how his hearing worked it was currently answering a lot of the questions his x-ray vision had given him.
“What do you think, Dan?” Clark heard the voice of Captain Maggie Sawyer ask. It took only a moment for Clark to associate her voice with the movements of the slightly shorter skeleton standing amidst a few others. She was looking down at the two victims sprawled on the floor. The big skeleton who shrugged in reply had to be Detective Dan Turpin, one of the best investigators in the Metropolis PD. His voice an instant later confirmed it.
“Dismembered… clean cuts with no defensive wounds. Looks like the same M.O. to me Maggie,” Dan said gruffly.
“I’d concur with that assessment,” a cool female voice coming from another of the skeletons added. Clark almost thought he saw Captain Sawyer’s jaw clench at the other woman’s words.
“So he’s back. Which means we’ve got, at best, three days before the Toyman leaves us another present,” Maggie announced grimly. She reached over and picked up a framed picture of some sort. “Get an APB out. The clock is ticking if we’re going to find…”
“HEY KENT!!!”
The words boomed in Clark’s ears like cannon shots and, with a slight start, the dark and focused world of his x-ray vision and super hearing collapsed into the bright and din-filled world the normal people around him were experiencing.
“What’s the matter Kent? Think you’re too good to talk to your fellow reporters just because you scored a big break?” The decidedly masculine voice added as Clark spun around. “Well, that’s yesterday’s news now.”
“Oh, stow it Jack,” came the much a more pleasant and familiar feminine voice.
“Hello, Cat,” Clark said to Catherine Grant while deliberately ignoring her fellow KGBS reporter Jack Rider. Catherine Grant was just a few years Clark’s senior and was one of the more prominent junior reporters for GBS News, owing as much to her competent portrayal of the news as to her statuesque beauty.
“Congrats on the Superman exclusive,” Cat responded; smirking slightly at the disgruntled look this gave Rider.
Jack Rider was a tall man in his early-fifties with that meticulously groomed and slightly graying hair that seemed to be favored by senior reporters everywhere. He was currently top of the heap at KGBS and the Metropolis media circles in general. After a quarter century on the job he was one of the most well-known figures in Metropolis; though among his fellows in the media he was known more for his arrogance and string of failed marriages than the hard-hitting interviews and investigations the general public knew him by.
And he was clearly irritated about the Superman interview, Clark noted. He was probably wondering why Superman had overlooked the ‘King of the Metropolis News’ in favor of a couple of print reporters. Lois would be thrilled.
“So where’s your partner, anyway?” Cat asked as she pulled Clark away from Rider.
“I think she’s catching up on her sleep at the moment. The last few days have been… hectic,” Clark said hesitantly. He didn’t know exactly how to discuss Lois with Cat. He’d gone on three dates with Cat while trying to get over his feelings for Lois back when she had been dating Lex Luthor and though he and Cat had agreed to be friends, bringing up your new girlfriend/Amara with someone you once dated didn’t seem exactly kosher.
“Hectic. That’s a… different… way of putting it,” Cat replied. “Apocalyptic is how most people would describe a rain of fire and an invasion of super-powered robots. So what are you doing out here anyway?”
“Perry called about the police and a coroner being called out here and figured there’d be a story,” Clark explained.
“Pretty much the same story here,” Cat agreed.
“I figured,” Clark said. “I knew why you were here, but why’s Rider out here too?”
Cat sighed. “Apparently someone upstairs pointed out that he hasn’t broken a major story in months and that his reputation as top reporter in the city might be slipping.” She gave him a sly grin. “I believe you and your partner were mentioned at some point. Anyway, I think he’s looking for a big story… something to prove that he’s still the ‘King.’ I tried telling him that this is a totally routine murder; probably some housewife finding out she’s been cheated on; but I don’t think Jack’s interested in being logical at the moment.”
“I didn’t know there was such a thing as a routine murder,” Clark pointed out.
“Oh come on,” Cat retorted. “I know you grew up in Smallville, but you can’t be that naïve.”
“No,” Clark admitted with just a tinge of melancholy. The fact of the matter was that he’d seen far too many deaths for someone just a quarter century old. “I guess just I prefer to not let them become statistics.”
“Noble words,” Cat remarked. “But that way lies expensive sessions on a shrink’s couch. Metropolis had a homicide about once every eighteen hours last year. That’s a little too much of man’s inhumanity to man to identify with and remain sane. Though at least you don’t have to squeeze someone’s life and death into a ten second blurb for the evening news,” she added. “That’s all this is going to warrant.”
“We’ll see,” Clark responded as he thought back to the strange name Captain Sawyer had used; the Toyman. This was definitely not a ‘routine’ murder. He needed to find out more.
“There’s our cue,” Cat exclaimed as the front door to the home opened and police and a pair of paramedics leading a body-bag laden gurney emerged. He could feel the silent gasp of the crowd as a second pair of paramedics and the second body-bag emerged after them; marking it as more than a simple domestic disturbance gone bad. Communities like Brighten Drive weren’t supposed to have things like this happen in them. At least that’s what the neighbors were trying to tell themselves.
With a grace that belied his large frame Clark slid through the crowd towards the police line. As he approached he could hear the gaggle of his fellow reporters firing questions at Captain Sawyer and Detective Turpin as they emerged from the house as well.
“Sorry folks!” Sawyer yelled back at the reporters. “We have no comments on this matter at this time. I will give you a statement downtown at noon.”
The reporters didn’t seem to like this answer, because they kept shouting questions at Sawyer. Clark reluctantly joined them with one of his own.
“Captain Sawyer!” Clark called out over the continuing din. “A moment of your time?”
Sawyer turned and regarded him from a distance as if evaluating her options before walking over towards him and the police line.
“Sorry, Kent,” Sawyer told him as she came up. “I like you, but this time there’s nothing you can say to get more out of me than the statement I’ll be giving in a few hours.”
Clark leaned forward and quietly said a single word.
“Toyman.”
Clark saw Sawyer clench her teeth as she bit back a curse and he knew he’d scored. She lifted the yellow tape and grabbed him by the arm to pull him through, much to the consternation of his fellow reporters. Clark looked back for a moment and, seeing Cat and Rider still in the pack, locked eyes with Rider and threw him a jaunty salute. The expression Rider returned was priceless.
Lois is definitely starting to rubbing off on me, Clark thought as Sawyer led him up by the house. Okay that wasn’t technically true… Lois had been rubbing off on him since the day they’d met. He probably wouldn’t even be a reporter today if she hadn’t opened his eyes to the world of journalism back in high school.
“Okay,” Sawyer asked in an exasperated tone once she was certain they were out of earshot of his fellow reporters. “Where did you hear that name?”
“One of my contacts,” Clark replied simply.
“When I find out who has the loose lips I’m going to chew their ass off,” Sawyer growled.
“That would be… interesting to see,” Clark remarked. Despite the macabre nature of the situation, Clark couldn’t help but grin at the mental image of Sawyer trying to bend over backwards that she had just provided him.
“So what else do you know?” Sawyer demanded.
Clark thought back to what he’d seen with his x-ray vision and heard with his super-hearing and prepared to bluff his way into getting more information. “That there’s been at least one other time when someone’s hacked a couple to pieces.”
“Yes,” Sawyer admitted grimly. “Look, the Feds don’t want the specifics of this getting out and the Mayor is applying every ounce of political clout he can muster into keeping this quiet; the last thing he wants is for his city to have the same reputation as Gotham.”
She glanced apprehensively over at a pair of dark suited individuals conferring off to one side, but seemed to reach a conclusion in her own mind as she spoke again. “Everything I’m about to say is off the record until we catch this guy, understood?”
Clark just nodded firmly. Sawyer’s question was a reaffirmation of the unspoken relationship he and Lois had managed to cultivate with the Captain. When they’d uncovered Councilman Roberts involvement in the murder of his intern they’d gone to the police before going to public with their story. They’d done the same with John Corbin and several other less high profile cases. In short, they had developed a reputation of playing ball with the police and the police returned the favor.
“Alright,” Sawyer began with a sigh. “This is the second time we’ve had a couple murdered this way, but it’s just the most recent escalation of a very sick bastard who’s come to be known as the Toyman. The worst is coming in a few days.”
“When the Toyman leaves his present,” Clark finished for her.
Sawyer grimaced again at Clark’s knowledge of the situation. “It’s the reason we call him the Toyman, Mr. Kent. Like I said, killing the couple is a recent addition. His primary targets are children. At first children would simply go missing and we’d find them a few days later, strangled and dumped, but always with a toy next to the body. Our Feds over there think that shows signs of a conscience and guilt, but anyone with an actual conscience wouldn’t keep killing children and he certainly wouldn’t have started slaughtering people when he takes them.”
“Any idea what that’s about?” Clark asked.
“I keep thinking about that toy label… some assembly required,” Sawyer deadpanned. “But that’s just my nerves talking. I’m sure our good agents have a theory about the deeply disturbed psychological problems that drive this individual, but my deep analysis is that he’s a cold-blooded monster who deserves a bullet in the brain. Regardless, the child who should be in that home is missing and given the Toyman’s M.O. we’ve got at most three days before a little boy named Bobbie Granger is murdered and dumped.”
“Does he…?” Clark began. His mind didn’t want to go there, but he knew the statistics as well as anyone.
“No… thank God,” Sawyer interrupted. “That’s the only mercy in all of this. None of his victims have shown any signs of molestation. This isn’t about sex.”
Sawyer again looked over at the two FBI agents before continuing. “Honestly, I don’t care who breaks this case at the moment so long as we find Bobbie in time. I don’t want to have to tell Bobbie’s mother that her little boy is dead.”
“Mother?” Clark asked. “I thought…” he looked over at the ambulance where the bodies of the two victims lay.
“No, these were foster parents,” Sawyer said. “The mother’s an addict on her second attempt at rehab who claims she doesn’t even know who the father is, but no parent deserves this.”
She looked directly at Clark. “I could really use a miracle right now, Mr. Kent. You did not hear me say this but, vigilante or not, I’d take Superman’s help if it were available. I don’t suppose you have any way of reaching him?”
“I can’t call him up on the phone if that’s what you’re asking,” Clark replied as he recalled his earlier musings about people trying to get a hold of Superman through Lois and himself. His comment just now was truthful in its own way, but it also served to dissuade Captain Sawyer from trying to regularly contact Superman through him.
“Pity,” Sawyer remarked. “If I had the authority I’d just deputize him and be done with it.”
“I’m sure he’s got reasons for staying out of the limelight,” Clark pointed out. “Still, he’s got super hearing. If you yell loud enough he’ll probably be able to hear you. Heck, he may even know about this already.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t exactly robotic alien conquerors or gang lords with arsenals bigger than some small countries. Do you really think someone like Superman has the time to deal with something as small time as this?” Sawyer asked.
“I know that if I were Superman I’d make the time,” Clark replied.
“And if wishes were horses I’d have a ranch,” Maggie deadpanned. “I’m not holding my breath.”
“In that case, is there anything else you can give me to go on?” Clark asked. “A list of the other victims would be a good start.”
“I’m sure the experts have gone over that a hundred times already looking for commonalities, but I’ll slip you an e-mail of it as soon as I get back to the station,” Sawyer replied. “Good luck, Mr. Kent.”
“We’ll do our best,” Clark vowed. He may not need to break out the crimson cape for something as ‘small time’ as this, but this was definitely a job for Superman.