"So… where are we going?" Jimmy asked as he caught up to Lois.
Their footsteps echoed as they passed through the somewhat undersized parking garage beneath the Daily Planet building.
"Remember those stories the Planet ran about a year ago about the 'Impossible Robberies?'"
"Oh, yeah. Headlines were a mouthful," Jimmy said.
"Tried to sell them on 'The Phantom Raids' but Perry thought it was too obtuse."
"Alright," Jimmy said with a nod as they reached Lois' car, "What's that got to do with us?"
"Well, one of the heists was a bank robbery. Weird thing about that job was how they got into the vault. Give you three guesses."
"Burned through it with some kind of acid?"
"Close, but no cigar. Blew it open with high yield explosives. MPD never could identify what kind. They used the acid to burn through the concrete floor. All six feet of it. Got away through the sewers."
Jimmy whistled.
"Strong stuff."
"No kidding. And I'd bet good money that's what was used on the bridge."
"OK, so this is all great, but that still doesn't tell me where we're going."
"I'm getting to it. There was never enough evidence for the police, but some of our guys seemed pretty convinced that the heists were connected to Intergang."
Lois looked at Jimmy, stopping as though she'd actually answered his question.
"So, what," he said, "We're just going to stop in and pay Ugly Mannheim a little social call? Ask him if he sold his special super-acid to anybody?"
Lois didn't respond for a moment.
"Yeah, basically," she finally said.
"Maybe next time you drag me to a murderous gangster's hideout, you can warn me first?"
"And miss out on the expression on your face?"
Jimmy shot her a glare before turning his attention back to the nightclub across the street. Sheeda's Den was located near the edge of Chinatown, not far from the invitingly-named Suicide Slum. Like several prominent establishments in the Eastern portion of New Troy, the club was owned by Bruno "Ugly" Mannheim, the current boss of an enigmatic criminal organization called Intergang. Unclear though their origins and goals were, one thing that was widely known about Intergang was that they were not to be trifled with. Their strange equipment was more advanced than anything even the Metropolis Police had access to, and they were very protective of it.
Honestly, Lois thought, Jimmy's not wrong. Won't make him feel any better to hear it, though.
"Don't worry," she said, "We're across the street. What are they going to care about us just having a look?"
"And how much do we learn from having a look?"
"Well, so maybe we see something suspicious and go in to have a look around. It's a nightclub. It's meant to have people in it."
"In the middle of the da-"
Their thoughts were interrupted by a distinct clicking sound behind them.
"Oh, yeah," said a voice, "It's meant to have people. They just ain't you."
The two slowly turned around to see a man in a suit leaning in the doorway of the building, holding a pistol. He stared at them for a moment.
"Now, beat it-" he began, "Hey, you're that chick from the Planet, ain't you?"
"Your detective skills are astonishing," Lois deadpanned.
"The boss'll like this," he said, "But try not to be a wiseass with him. He ain't as forgivin' as I am. Now c'mon. Both a' you punks."
Lois had been in Ugly Mannheim's office about one hundred twenty seconds by the time she started ignoring the Intergangster's advice.
"So, are you planning to do something, or are you just going to stare ominously out that window?"
The massive, dark-haired man didn't turn to look at her but he did respond with a gravelly, wheezing chuckle that reminded Lois of a smoker's cough.
"You're lucky you ain't here for you, kid," he said, "You're here for that overgrown boy scout you write all those long-winded op-eds about."
"Well, that's mildly insulting," Lois muttered under her breath.
"How do you know he'll be here?" Jimmy asked slowly.
That got Mannheim to turn around. Lois' first thought was that with a face that wasn't especially attractive in the first place and was crisscrossed with deep scars, Ugly had earned his nickname.
"Just 'cause I'm bored, I might as well tell you."
He pointed to a small metal box on his desk.
"This little doohicky's putting out a noise in a frequency only his super-ears can hear, sayin' 'Hey! You! In the shiny red undies! Get over here!' Or, uh, somethin' like that."
"How do you know what frequency he can hear?" Lois pressed, a little too curious.
She felt Jimmy shift uncomfortably next to her..
"You can't get me to narc on my boss so easy, kid," Mannheim said, "He knows plenty of things, and he's a hell of a lot scarier than your alien."
"You did just tell us you have a boss," Jimmy pointed out.
Lois winced. He didn't have to point that out.
"If this works, you won't live long enough to tell anybody," Mannheim said.
Just then, they heard a loud crash from somewhere else in the building.
"Your minutes are numbered, kids," Mannheim said with a grin.
When Superman landed, one or two of the club's patrons ran for the doors, but the rest just turned to face him.
"Mannheim," Superman said, "Where is-"
The bartender pulled out a light machine gun from underneath the bar and opened fire. Following his lead, the rest of the patrons – evidently all Intergangsters – pulled handguns and fired as well. Clark let the bullets bounce harmlessly off his chest for a few seconds before using his heat vision to melt the barrel of the machine gun.
"That wasn't your best idea," he said.
The Intergangsters began to rush him with surprising coordination, not that it helped them. A single burst of Super-breath knocked them all to floor. Almost immediately afterwards, fifteen men in black body armor and gas masks burst through several doors in the back of the club. Most of them spread out and dived behind tables and chairs to open fire with some kind of laser weapon, a few began somehow climbing directly up the walls while aiming pistols at Clark, and one climbed up on top of the bar with a strange-looking gun in his hand connected to a tank on his back.
Green gas began to poor out of the strange gun and Clark held his breath. Clark took a step towards the man on the bar when one of the wall crawlers landed on top of him and stabbed him with a needle. Clark threw the man, knocking a second crawler off the wall. Before any others could attack, Superman flew across the room to the gasser, pinching the nozzle of his gun shut.
The gasser reached to his belt and pulled out a taser, jabbing it into Superman's neck. Clark winced at the pain but shoved the gasser into the wall, where he slumped over. Another wall crawler dropped on Clark's head with another taser, but was quickly sent flying into two of the troopers with the lasers. Superman grabbed the fourth and final wall crawler with one hand and smashed him through a table. As he moved to knock out two more troopers, he noticed that he was slowing down. Maybe it was because of the needle the first wall crawler had used on him.
Whatever the cause, it wasn't enough to help the next three troopers. As he knocked the heads of two more together, the last continued firing. Clark walked up to him as the lasers flashed harmlessly (though they were beginning to sting) into his chest. Clark placed a hand on the weapon and tried to snap it. It bent slightly and stopped firing but didn't break. This was getting concerning. He knocked out the last trooper and turned to look for the wall crawler who'd stabbed him with the syringe. The other fourteen armored Intergangsters were sprawled around the room, but that crawler had disappeared. There was no time to worry about that. Clark had to find Mannheim.
He didn't have to look far. Mannheim was standing in the doorway to the offices at the back of the club, holding another of the strange laser rifles. In front of him were a very concerned-looking Jimmy and a very agitated-looking Lois.
"What took you so long?" she asked.
"Got a little tied up with these Intergoons," Clark replied.
"You know," said Mannheim, "You really are as dumb as you look. These guns have been sapping your powers, and you didn't even notice. I figure by this point you ain't all that much stronger than one of us mere mortals."
So that was it. Then what was that syringe?
"I've still got enough in me to take you down, Mannheim."
"Why so combative, kid? I just called you here to talk."
"Why did you sabotage the Hobsneck Bridge?" Clark questioned.
"Oh, I didn't do that. Just sold some gear and information to an interested party."
"Who?"
"That would be telling. And besides, you don't really need to know any of this. I'm just stalling until my associate's science project shows up."
Clark felt a strong pair of arms wrap around him and begin to drag him back. The arms were slimy and misshapen, like they'd melted, and were colored a dull, muddy purple. When Superman flew into the ceiling to get the creature off him, he saw that the arms had a body to match. It was roughly human in shape, but at least eight feet tall and bent over in a painful-looking hunch. Blue flashes of what appeared to be electricity flickered through its bulging veins. It let out a low, hissing snarl.
"It's called the Parasite!" Mannheim called, "It saps energy, and it looks like it thought yours was pretty tasty."
Superman rushed toward the monster, throwing a punch directly into its twisted face. It was like hitting a brick wall. Clark recoiled, clutching at his bruised knuckles. The creature grabbed him before he could react, and hurled him across the room, where he smashed into a table. He started to get up, but cringed in pain, realizing a splinter had gone into his shoulder.
Before he got to his feet, the creature's fist connected with his chest, sending him hurtling out the window.
Superman was beginning to engage the monster, and Mannheim was too busy watching to pay much attention. Lois thought she'd heard about as much as she was going to from him, so she took her chance. She grabbed the nearest chair and smashed it over Mannheim's head. He crumpled immediately.
"You could've done that at any time?" Jimmy asked incredulously.
"Well, he seemed like he was in a chatty mood. I wanted to hear what he had to say."
"Note to self: don't get on Lois' bad side," Jimmy muttered, "So what's the plan?"
Lois picked up one of the laser rifles from the unconscious Mannheim.
"Hope you've got good aim," she said.
"You're not seriously-"
"Yep. Grab one of these and start shooting. If these can drain Superman, they can take down Tall, Purple, and Gruesome over there."
A few stories gone wrong notwithstanding, Lois had only fired guns at a shooting range, but she'd done that enough to be surprised at how little recoil the strange weapon had. The creature was lumbering towards the club's front door, no doubt because it couldn't fit out the window it had thrown Superman through. As Lois' first few shots struck the creature in the center of the back, it didn't seem to notice. Jimmy was just picking up another one of the weapons.
"Try to hold its attention and keep it moving around!" Lois said, "Maybe we can buy some time."
"Uh… Hey, ugly!" Jimmy yelled, "Yeah, you! Big blob of grape jelly! You hungry for something? Come over here!"
One of his shots grazed the creature's ears. Lois wasn't sure if it was that or what Jimmy had yelled that got its attention, but it turned toward them and let out a low, gurgling roar.
Clark's vision was blurry and his ears were ringing. He forced himself to move again, shifting on the hard asphalt. Before he'd even started to sit up, he felt it: a familiar rush, like fire spreading through his nerves.
The creature had made the mistake of throwing him into the sunlight. It would take him a while to fully recharge, but he could feel his wounds sealing and his strength returning.
As he rose to his feet, Superman heard a low, gurgling roar from inside the club. Calling on his newly regained strength, he hurled himself back through the door. He careened into the monster, knocking it into the opposite wall.
The creature let out another sound, a repeated warble that sounded almost like a laugh. Not taking any chances with coming into contact with the creature again, Clark let out a blast of heat vision, which the creature angrily swatted away with its hand.
Before Clark could react, the creature had released its own scorching beams from its eyes. Clark crossed his arms in front of his face, feeling the painful scorch of the monster's heat vision. Holding the beam at bay for a moment, he threw his arms down, meeting the beam with his own heat vision. The meeting point of the two beams slowly receded, inching closer to the monster's face.
It threw its hands up like Superman had done and began marching forward into Clark's heat vision beam. Realizing that the heat vision wouldn't stop the creature, Clark blinked the beam off and unleashed a blast of super breath. This proved to be the wrong move, since the monster just burst through the wind and wrapped its hands around Clark's neck.
The next sound from the creature's throat sounded disturbingly close to the word "Delicious."
"You're intelligent," Superman breathed.
"And hungry," the Parasite said, squeezing his throat tighter.
Clark tried to pry its – his, he corrected himself – meaty hands from his throat, but he couldn't budge them. His powers had been sapped too much already. In desperation, he tried to use his heat vision again to blind the Parasite. To his surprise, it worked, and the creature released him.
"You couldn't drain all my power," Clark said, "You're topped off."
The Parasite stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders, forming a twisted mockery of a smile.
"Yes."
Clark lunged forward but a swift right hook from the Parasite sent him sprawling.
Jimmy looked at Lois.
"These aren't helping," he said, gesturing to the laser.
"Not with only two of them…" Lois mumbled.
"I've got another thought. If that thing's… full, maybe we can overload it somehow."
"What've you got in mind?"
"These guns aren't guns. They're throwing some kind of energy, like a flashlight, not bullets. They probably run on electricity, and a lot of it. We crack the batteries out of these suckers and find some way of making a loop, and we can zap that bubblegum-flavored creep."
"Sounds like a plan."
The Parasite's punch to his chest felt like an oncoming freight train. Clark flew backwards but caught himself on his feet. The Parasite rushed toward him and he punched the monster in the face. The Parasite rolled with the punch and returned the favor, sending Clark sprawling onto the floor.
Clark scrambled for the splash of sunlight where he'd landed through the club's roof only to feel the crushing impact of the Parasite's foot on his back.
"You want sun?" the Parasite growled, "Here."
The Parasite grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hurled him clear through the wall, a portion of which shattered at the impact. The creature had only gotten stronger.
Clark began to struggle to his feet once more, but the Parasite was already upon him. He felt a huge, twitching hand wrap around him and smash him into the ground. Clark grabbed the Parasite's thumb to try to start dislodging the hand, but his grip was broken when the creature smashed him into the asphalt again.
As the Parasite lifted Clark up, presumably to smash him into the ground again, it howled in pain. The blue lights flickering through his veins lit up all at once, as the stinging burn of electricity hit Clark as well. As the massive magenta monstrosity collapsed on top of him, Clark blacked out.
"Uh, Jimmy?" Lois said, "I think that got Superman too."
"I… think he'll be fine?"
"You're dumber than you look, kid," said a familiar raspy voice, "And that's saying something."
The two turned to see Ugly Mannheim, clutching the top of his head with one arm and using one of the laser rifles as a crutch with the other. He shifted his weight and brought the gun up to aim it at Lois and Jimmy.
"Haven't you people had enough?" Lois said, unfazed.
"You think this was all of us?" Mannheim snapped, "I've got half of intergang on their way here right now. Think Captain PJs over there can go another round with my boys? You're dead. You're all dead."
A long shaft of metal suddenly embedded itself in the ground at Mannheim's feet.
"Actually, I think they're doing alright for themselves, Ugly."
Mannheim jumped back and whirled around to look up towards the roof of the building. A man in a grey hockey mask and some kind of leather shoulder padding stood directly above the door, flanked by two more in camouflaged combat gear, balaclavas, and shaded goggles. They were both holding assault rifles but Lois noted that they appeared to be wearing swords as well.
"Crock," Mannheim said, "What the hell kind of getup is that?"
"Hey, a Sportsmaster needs quality equipment," Crock said, "Anyway, my point is that there's actually nobody coming. Your people are dead, and you will be too if you don't play your cards right, so all of you shut up and listen. Ugly, I recall my client specifically telling you not to kill the alien."
"I'm not his lapdog."
"I know, you're somebody else's. I get it; I do. But we're not impressed. My client's got bigger plans, and we need him alive. Personally, I'd just as soon off him now, but hey, it's not my money. We're also taking my client's new monster back."
"That wasn't part of the deal!" Mannheim yelled.
"I don't care," the strange "sports master" said matter-of-factly.
"Y-you're bluffing!" Mannheim insisted, "You can't have killed everybody. I've still got people on their way."
"Ugly, you know who we are, right? Your Intergoons are dead. So are the ones inside, actually. My associates have been killing them while we were talking. Now go play with your weird interdimensional toys and don't get in my client's away again."
Mannheim fell to his knees. After a moment, Jimmy spoke.
"So… do we get to leave?" he asked.
"Sure, kid. Grab big blue and scram. My client actually wants you to talk about what happened here, but I'll consider it a personal favor if you leave this last bit out. My employer doesn't like publicity. Different guys. Long story."
Sportsmaster pulled a large disc out from his belt and snapped it over his knee. Smoke rapidly leaked out of the inside of the object, enveloping the three figures on the roof. By the time it cleared, they were gone.
Crock pulled off his mask as his assassin subordinates wheeled in the Parasite on a stretcher. He looked around the cavernous decommissioned LexAir hangar his client's little conspiracy was using as a base of operations. Workers in crisp green LexCorp jumpsuits flitted around between work stations filled with equipment Crock didn't recognize or care about. One practically flew up to Crock as soon as the stretcher was wheeled in. Used to seeing him in expensive three-piece suits, it took Crock a moment to realize that the man in the jumpsuit was Luthor himself.
"What happened?" Luthor asked.
"Ugly got a little carried away and tried to give your alien an unscheduled execution. We killed like fifty of his guys to make sure he knew how bad of an idea that was."
"Hmph. You the one that overloaded Jones?"
"Nah, that was Supey and friends. You should see the other guy. Now, how'd you know he got overloaded?"
"The energy channeling nodes are glowing," Luthor said, pulling out some kind of tablet-like device and scanning it across the Parasite's body, "And it's what I'd do."
"Also got-" Crock started to say, but paused because Luthor seemed preoccupied.
"High levels of red sun radiation," he mumbled, "Must've used the power cells from those peashooters Ugly sold us."
Crock cleared his throat.
"I also got the sample for your other project."
Luthor turned back as Crock got out the kryptonite-tipped syringe he'd used while disguised as one of Mannheim's wall-crawlers.
"Finally," said Luthor, "Some good news."
Quick note: Fanfiction ate my scene dividers on the last chapter. Should be fixed now. Put a note at the bottom of that one too, but wanted to make it clear that it wasn't intentional. I've waded through too many deliberately illegible formatting choices to pull something like that on you guys. My usual line breaks are just a hyphen, since I think it looks less obtrusive than the full line, but Fanfiction seems to decide those don't exist and deletes the entire line. Go figure.
