In Cold Blood
State Penitentiary
The power lines bowed between the telephone poles and ran perpendicular with the black asphalt road as far as the eye could see. The hum of the tires on the surface added a constant background walla to the soft rock playing on the radio. Long stretches of untended grass line both sides of the highway. Bluebells appear here and there, but were only brief splashes of color on the gray landscape.
The cab slowed down as it approached a wide driveway. From the road, nothing could be seen. Rolling slowly forward, the driver noticed the change of the surroundings. Everything was neat and trim, orderly. As the drive curved, a sign came into view and then the first metal fence appeared.
The cab stopped as guards moved towards it. Licenses and papers were checked. Calls were made and after several minutes the gate opened silently and the cab was waved through. A massive complex of steel and stone rose into view. The outer wall of the State Penitentiary loomed over everything. Guard towers and searchlights were sprinkled around its summit. One massive gate, like the road that lead to it, immediately conveys the message there is one way in and one way out.
The cab pulled up to the designated visitors area and waited. There was an eerie silence that slowly became unnerving. The driver turned up the radio as he checked the time once again. He picked up the clipboard sitting on the passenger seat and scanned the fair sheet once again. His eyes went back to the clock, but the time seemed to stand still.
A horn sounded and then a loud buzz accompanied the rumble of the main gate opening. Lights flashed as a series of locks were electronically opened. A moment passed. Stepping out of the darkness and into the light was the fare. The man winced, and then shielded his eyes against the sunlight. He stood for a moment, his cheap, dated suit hanging loose on his bony frame. He saw the cab, but couldn't help looking back at the gate. No one was going to stop him he seemed to realize. Slowly, he walked to the cab and climbed in the back.
"Where to, bud?" The bored taxi driver asked.
"Metropolis."
The driver nodded and pulled away. They passed through the outer gate and only when they reach the highway did the fare finally breath a sigh of relief. Butch Matson took one long last look at the Penitentiary and then never looked back again.
If he understood what irony was, Butch probably would have laughed at his situation. It's a cab that was taking him away from the Penitentiary and it was a cab that put him there. Butch didn't understand irony, but he did have a long memory. As they make their way towards Metropolis, he couldn't help thinking of why he was locked away in the first place.
It was just another night, like countless others. One drink led to another and another. He spotted the pretty young thing across the bar and knew he had to have her. Sliding off his stool he managed to make his way over to her table. She looked so young, so fresh and so beautiful. He tried chatting her up, but no dice. He could still remember the look of complete distain on her face as she turned him down flat. Her sharp tongue had made him feel like a complete idiot.
He slunk back to his seat at the bar, humiliated and angry. He was just a mug and knew it, but she didn't have to be so brash and rude. Someone needed to teach the young bitch a lesson in manners. As he down several more drinks the idea seemed to capture his imagination.
She finally got up and left the roadhouse. Butch followed. They struggled. She fought and clawed like a wildcat until he pulled out the gun. It was really just a cheap Saturday night special, but at that range it would do the job. He smiled as he watched her beg him not to do anything stupid. She wasn't so stuck up now.
As he rode away from the Penitentiary, Butch still wasn't sure what he would have done to her that night. He was drunk and angry and wiping that condescending look off her beautiful face was as far as he was thinking. He didn't know it at the time, but the whole world was about to change that night. Butch Matson had the dubious honor of being the first criminal stopped by Superman. He could still remember the shock and awe he felt as he saw him for the first time. It was like some young, avenging God had come down to Earth. In a panic Butch had fired his gun, but the bullets just harmlessly bounced off. Superman had lifted the taxi with ease and tossed it aside.
It wasn't even until his trial that Butch learned the young woman's name, Lois Lane. Over the years in prison he like everyone else got to know that name very well. It seemed their lives were linked by that night. Her life was a continuous upward climb, while his was a downward spiral into Hell. Both were the result of their encounter with Superman.
When the news came that Superman was no more, Butch had cheered along with everyone else in the Pen. Some of the nastier metas were already boasting about what they would do once they got out with Superman no longer around. For a guy like Butch, as satisfying as it was to hear the hero that put him away was no more, it really didn't change that much. Prison had been a constant struggle just to survive and it tended to break men like Butch. He wasn't worried about superheroes, just making it through the day. Fifteen years he'd spent in that hellhole. It was fifteen years he would never get back.
The cab ride back to the city took longer than Butch remembered. As they headed toward the halfway house in the Suicide Slums, Butch stared out the window at all the changes that had happened since he'd been away. Metropolis wasn't exactly Gotham, but from what he'd read in prison, it was having it's own crime and violence problems. The city had a dark foreboding feel about it that had never been there before. It seemed everything had changed since Butch went away and Superman disappeared.
AP News
Metropolis — Police say a 37-year-old woman and her infant son have died and her husband is badly injured in a vicious assault in a quiet suburb. The assailant is dead, as well.
Witnesses report the attack was unprovoked and they had never seen the man before. He apparently exited a cab several houses away from the victims and then walked from there. The attack took place in the victim's front yard in plain view of the entire neighborhood.
No arrests have been made, and police have not determined a motive. The investigation is continuing.
Metropolis – the Suicide Slums
Butch stepped out onto the curb in front of the halfway house. He pulled a cigarette and match from his pocket and lit up. No smoking inside the halfway house. Another change since he'd been away. He took a drag and coughed, but then took another one.
He'd been out a week. Everything he'd known was gone. Old friends were either dead, locked up or had moved away. Life had moved on without him. As he started walking down the street he could feel the eyes on him. It was different from the old days. Back then it was fear, now it was pity. Anger flashed through him. He was just an old man in a shitty suit to these people. He was nothing but a potential victim, just like he'd been inside.
He was out of the Pen, but there was nothing for him anymore. He had been a low level enforcer at best, but even the criminals were different now. His parole officer suggested getting a job. The options he was presented with, busboy, dishwasher, fast food clerk, just added to his fury. Being an ex-con it wasn't even a sure thing he would get the job. He would have to beg to be treated like dirt.
So he fell back on what he knew, crime. He wasn't having much luck with that either. A simple snatch and run earned him a face full of mace and a kick to the groin. Through burning tears soaked eyes he watched the young woman storm off hollering for police. In his mind another young woman came back to him. The fury began to burn in his gut.
He continued walking, rolling over and over in his mind what he was going to do. The thought of going back to the Pen sent a cold chill down his back. Fear, that's what he'd learned inside, a helpless naked fear. He hated that feeling, but it was always there.
He stopped at the small bodega and fished out some change for the paper. The old man running the place gave him a sour look as he glanced at Butch's cigarette. He snatched the paper from the old man and blew another stream of smoke in his face before walking off.
"Asshole."
The word was as clear as a bell and Butch knew it was directed at him. He stopped and slowly turned. He stared at the bodega owner with a cold dead look. The man seemed to flinch for a second and then got very nervous as Butch started walking back.
"What did you say?"
Butch was standing right in front of him now.
"Nothing."
"I heard you say something."
"I didn't say anything."
Butch was just about to hit the man when he saw the cop turn the corner. The officer must have caught something in both their eyes, cause he made a beeline straight for them.
"Is there a problem here?"
Butch stepped back and sized the cop up. He was young and already had his nightstick out.
"No problem officer,' Butch said.
"Bullshit, this guy is hassling me,' the bodega owner shouted. Butch felt first tremor of fear as the cop turned all his attention towards him.
"Why don't you move along, old-timer,' the policeman suggested. Butch just nodded and started moving. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the beads of perspiration between his shoulder blades. He made it to the corner as fast as he could and then collapsed against the brick wall. He was breathing hard, drenched in a cold sweat. He was sick to his stomach with the fear.
It took several moments to calm down. He finally managed to stand on his own two feet and continued walking. The incident kept repeating in his mind. Old-timer, the cop had called him, like he was just some harmless old fool he didn't have to worry about. That's what he was now, a harmless old fool that didn't frighten anyone. The bile began to churn in Butch's stomach at the very thought.
Suddenly he stopped and a small smile came to his face. The bodega owner had been afraid, afraid of him. It was only a brief moment, but Butch could picture it clear as a bell. It reminded him of the old days.
AP News
Metropolis. — Police have identified the victims of the vicious assault that rocked this peaceful suburb as Lois Lane-Elliot, former star reporter for the Daily Planet and her two-year-old son. Both died immediately from injuries sustained in the attack. Mrs. Lane-Elliot's husband, Jordan Elliot, a local mechanic sustained a concussion, three broken ribs and numerous lacerations. He is currently in police custody at the local hospital.
Police have been able to identify the assailant as one, Butch Matson. Mr. Matson was recently released from the State Penitentiary after serving fifteen years for assault and kidnapping. Mr. Matson died on the scene.
There is speculation of a past history between Mrs. Elliot and Mr. Matson but the police have not determined a motive.
Metropolis – Suicide Slums
Butch sat in his dingy room at the halfway house, the Sunday paper spread out in front of him. The special magazine insert celebrating the 10th anniversary of Superman's disappearance had his full attention. There was even a small item about him, but no picture. He was just the first poor sap that Superman caught. He was a piece of trivia for guys down at the bar to win bets over.
In the center of the table was the story about Superman's last days. The interview with Lois Lane was apparently the centerpiece of all the coverage. There was a picture of her smiling for the camera. She looked happy. Life had been very good to her. Butch felt his fingers rip through the newspaper, tearing it to shred and then flinging it against the wall.
She had everything and he had nothing. He was just barely a footnote and she was a star.
Action News 10 - Live
"We interrupt our regularly schedule program to bring you the last details of the still unfolding scene from today's shocking news of Lois Lane's murder. We go to our correspondent on the scene, Lyle Tate."
"Thanks Jim, the scene here is a madhouse. This quiet sleepy little suburb is in a state of shock and reeling from what happened. It has been confirmed that Lois Lane, former star reporter for the Daily Planet and well-known celebrity along with her young son have been brutally murdered. Since the news got out, reporters from all over have descended. It has been confirmed the killer is one Butch Matson, recently released from jail. As you may have read Mr. Matson was the first person arrested by Superman and it did involve assault and attempted kidnapping of Lois Lane. Police are not saying this was the motive, but it seems like a strong possibility."
"What about Matson, Lyle?"
"Dead, Jim. From all the reports were getting Jordan Elliot killed him, but the police haven't confirmed that. Elliot isn't speaking to anyone and is in the hospital. We do have an interview, though, with a neighbor and witness to the tragedy, if you want to roll that footage."
The screen shifts and an older man is standing in the middle of a sea of reporters. He looks shaken as he relates what he saw.
"It was just another Sunday, you know? This is a nice neighborhood, quiet and friendly. I was just working out in the yard like most people around here. I saw Lois and Jordan doing the same and waved. They were putting in a flowerbed, while trying to keep an eye on that young one of theirs. He's a cute little guy, but a handful…. Or was. Oh, God, I still can't believe any of this is happening."
The man is visibly shaken as he wipes tears from his eyes, but the reporters prompt him to go on.
"Yeah, okay, I know, you want to here about it. So I was doing the hedges when I noticed a cab pull up just down the block there. I didn't think much of it, just figured it was someone from the city. I turned back to the hedges but something made me look again. I saw the guy, you know, but I didn't know what he was going to do. I did have a bad feeling about him, just something in his eyes. He was dressed in old suit, like from the seventies or something. It just seemed odd to me.
He didn't look around, just walked straight for the Elliots over there. They weren't really looking, as their attention was on their son. A shovel was lying on the ground by the new flower garden and the man picked it up. He swung it at Jordan, just like that."
The man seemed to tremble as he remembered it. Fresh tears came to his eyes,
"There was blood everywhere. It didn't seem real, like it was a movie or something. Then Lois screamed and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Others came out to see what was going on, but I couldn't move, I was just frozen there, in horror. The man started screaming at Lois, but it didn't make any sense. She fought him like a wildcat, but then he hit her with the shovel. It was such a sickening sound. Jordan was on his knees and tried to get to his wife, but the man hit him again. He just kept hitting them over and over. The he turned to the baby...
The man threatens to break down as the nightmare starts to overwhelm him.
"God, I should have done something, anything, but I was terrified. I just stood here in shock watching it all happen.'
"How did Matson die?" One of the reporters asked.
"Jordan. I don't know how he did it, but somehow he lunged at the man and wrestled him to the ground. Blood was just pouring from him, yet he got his hands around that man's neck and didn't let go. Then the man stopped moving. Jordan crawled towards his wife and son, but just collapsed."
Metropolis
Bruce Wayne walked down the corridor towards the security wing of the hospital. He could see the two guards stationed outside the room, but he wasn't concerned. On his lapel, he had a badge authorizing him to see the prisoner/patient. The police were still sorting everything out and until they did, Jordan Elliot was in protective custody. It was probably for the best, if the swarm of reporters outside the hospital was any indication.
Bruce could feel every eye on him as he walked to the room. The two guards stood at attention. They examined his badge, making sure it was legit.
"Are you sure you want to go in there, Mr. Wayne?" The one Guard asked.
"Yes, I'm sure."
"Okay, if you insist, though, I got to tell you, he hasn't said a word since he arrived."
As the second guard fumbled with the key, Bruce glanced through the window a the patient inside.
"How is he?'
"Not good,' the guard replied. "He's on suicide watch. The restrains are really for his protection."
"He hasn't said anything?' Bruce asked.
"No, he just lays there staring out the window."
"Okay, you can open it up,' Bruce informed the guard.
"Are you sure Mr. Wayne?' The man replied. "An important guy like you in there alone with him, there's no telling what he might do."
"I'll be fine, just open it."
"Do you want me to go in with you, for protection?'
"No, I think I can handle it."
The guard inserted the key and turned it. He gave the door a hard tug and pulled it open. Bruce stepped through and then turned back to the guard.
"Could you give us some privacy?"
The guard gave him one more look and then shut the door behind him. Bruce stood there for over a minute just looking at the man on the hospital bed. Bandages covered most of his upper torso, yet he hadn't even looked over when the door opened. Bruce stepped to the foot of the bed.
"Hello Clark."
A/N: to anonymous reviewer - "then don't read it." ; )