[STAR Labs, a division of Luthor Corp., 11:10 a.m.]
Lex supervised the installation of new security cameras throughout the STAR Labs plant. A non-descript concrete bunker-like building in Metropolis' east side, the plant was heavily fortified. Barbed wire-tipped fences, guard dogs and an armed security force with the authority to use lethal force. Yet, somehow, someone broke into the plant, evaded heat-sensitive sensors, eluded a dozen guard dogs and penetrated the secretive Lab #5.
It was secretive because that was where STAR Labs scientists performed experiments with the infamous Smallville green meteor. As of this morning, a sample was missing.
Who could have taken it? Luthor Corp. had battled the U.S. government in court for the right to possess those samples. I've heard the rumours: CIA agents and British MI6 operatives have joined STAR Labs staff ... to gain access to the mysterious meteor.
Could it have been Rupert Thorne? Is this a mob message: a demonstration of his formidable powers in the underworld? Possible, but not even the well- connected Gotham mafia would know about my research here.
"Marnie, I want you to do a thorough reference check on all STAR Labs personnel," he ordered on his cell phone. "The thief must have an inside contact."
The plant's chief of security handed him his letter of resignation - promptly at 9 a.m. He expected that he would be fired for the theft of the meteor sample. Lex smirked. Wise decision, because I would have canned his ass if he didn't resign.
He peered through the second-floor office blinds. The hastily arranged news conference put the public's fears at ease. There was a security breach, the Luthor Corp. spokesman admitted, but there was no threat to the public. As a courtesy, Lex called Metro P.D. personally to reassure them that the intruder stole "nothing of substance" from STAR Labs.
When the last of the Live Eye trucks left the STAR Labs parking lot, Lex stepped outside and sat on a bench in the employee parkette. The loss of the meteor was a problem, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. He was more concerned about the Inquisitor's trashy headline today: 'THE MOB MANHANDLES COUNCILLOR'S BRO ... DID LUTHOR ORDER THE ATTACK?!'
On the horizon, he saw Clark Kent walking towards him. Hmm, Lex thought, perhaps the Daily Planet can cast me in a better light ... before the mob story gets out of hand.
"Clark? You just missed the press conference. The Planet's technology reporter got the scoop, I'm afraid. Not much to tell, really. Between you and I, I think it was an inside job."
"Really," Clark stated. He knew exactly who stole the sample. The only one with the skills and training to succeed in such a daring theft. Bruce ... in his night shift role as the caped crusader.
"Lex, I'm actually here to talk to you. I need to know. The truth," Clark demanded.
"The truth about what?" Lex wondered.
"The attack on Councillor von Hutton's brother. It was a mob attack, wasn't it?"
Lex tried to avoid Clark's glare. "Look at me and tell me you're not involved with Rupert Thorne!" Clark raised his voice.
"No," Lex stated. "I don't know what Chloe or Lois have been telling you, but I have never met with Thorne - or counseled him to intimidate anyone at city hall."
"Did you know that Pete Ross' radio talk show is going national," Clark explained.
Lex raised an eyebrow. "That's the first I've heard of it, Clark."
"Bruce Wayne is launching a talk radio network across the country. Pete is going to be the network's headliner!" Clark sat beside his friend. Still a friend, at least for this morning. "Lex, he knows everything. He has a tape of you and Rupert Thorne plotting to intimidate the councillor into siding with your redevelopment plan!"
Lex buried his head in his hands. "No ... no, no, no! How did he do it? Pete has a friend with the FBI? Or was it ... damn! Bruce Wayne, that son of a bitch! Didn't I tell you he couldn't be relied on for anything. He'll do whatever it takes to destroy my family!"
"No, Lex," Clark interrupted, "you destroyed yourself. I'd like to see Metropolis become a great city, just like you ... but not at the expense of the public good."
"But unlike you," Lex snapped back, "I have the means and the power to make the city great. You think those fools in city hall have the vision to save Metropolis from becoming another Gotham City? I won't let that happen! Not in my city!"
"The city doesn't belong to you, Lex! It never did! Suppose you do win the redevelopment contracts. And maybe the city does win the Olympic bid. Can you live with that - knowing that you reached those heights by standing on Rupert Thorne's shoulders?"
Lex could barely restrain his temper, but he bit his lip. Clark is turning on me! How dare he? After all I've done for him ... his family! Stay focused, Lex. Clark is simply lashing out. Chloe must be feeding him some rumours she picked up from the street.
"Clark, please, let me explain. Have a seat." Lex pointed his hand at the bench.
"Why?" Clark asked. "Why ally yourself with the mob?"
Lex took off his watch. "Remember this? The watch my mother gave me. It's five minutes slow and lost some of its varnish, but it still works." Clark held it, staring at the watch face of the embedded Napoleonic-era coin.
"Have you been to the battlefield of Waterloo, Clark? I've been there a few times whenever I visit Belgium. It's quite a testament to Napoleon's accomplishments."
"But didn't the Duke of Wellington win that battle?"
"Ah, yes. Wellington managed to do what no other European army could do. He forced Bonaparte's Imperial Guard - the best troops in the whole Grande Armee - to retreat. The Brits were desperate. If they lost there, the French would have driven them into the sea."
"So you're saying Wellington got a lucky break?"
"No, what I'm saying is ... both men knew that Waterloo could make or break their legend. They seized the moment ... and to hell with the consequences. The battle could have gone either way ..."
"Why are you telling me this, Lex?" Clark stared at Bonaparte's face in the watch.
"The victors don't always get the spoils. Wellington won, and with it, all the glory and honours of the British Empire. Cities throughout the British Commonwealth bear his name. But even though he won at Waterloo, he went on to be a miserable - and forgettable - prime minister. People remember him BECAUSE of Napoleon. Napoleon, on the other hand, is immortal by any yardstick. By his natural abilities and sheer force of will, he laid the foundations for a modern Europe. His Napoleonic Code still thrives from the Pyrenees to the Alps. Leaders in every profession study his strategies. Two hundred years after the battle, his legacy lives on." He took back his watch. I'm sorry Mom, he thought, I can't be like you. Compassionate. Giving. I am my father's son.
"Don't you see, Clark," he continued. "That's what I want. The sports cars, the estate, the money ... those are material possessions. At any time, I could lose them all. The revitalization of Metropolis downtown core ... the Olympics ... those are lasting things that will make people sit up and listen. It's the 21st century: I can't simply enlist in an army and make a name for myself like Napoleon. My redevelopment plan - that will be my legacy. Two hundred years from now, I want people to remember the Luthor name."
"Oh I see, you would rather rule in hell than serve in heaven?!" Clark scoffed. "At what price ... what cost ... are you willing to pay to become a legend? You'll give the mob a free ride in Metropolis! If anything, you'll help them to turn the city into an urban wasteland! That's what's going to happen if you're depending on Rupert Thorne to forge this legacy of yours!"
Lex paced around the bench. "I've never asked anything from you. I've done whatever I needed to do to help you and your family. I'm asking you today to ante up, Clark. I understand that the Daily Planet intends to go after the mob over the next few weeks. Look, I'll prove my innocence, you'll see! But I need time to do that. Can you ... do something to put a hold on the mob stories ... at least until the council votes on the redevelopment plan? Chloe doesn't trust me, Lois Lane hates my guts ... you're the only one I can turn to. I'm asking as a friend ... can you put a lid on those stories?"
"I'm through doing favours for you, Lex. First you lied to me, now you're trying to cover up your criminal connections! What next, Lex? Are you going to order a hit on Chloe if she picks up Thorne's scent on you? You were my best friend. Closer than Pete, Chloe ... all of them ... I thought I could count on you." He stormed away.
"Were?" Lex tried to catch up to Clark.
"I can't be friends with you. Not anymore. You're in bed with the mob. That's not the Lex I knew in Smallville! The Lex Luthor I knew would have run Thorne and his goons out of town. You should have been the one shepherding the anti-racketeering bill through Congress. Now that will be Bruce Wayne's legacy. I can't imagine what yours will be. You forget, Napoleon was a ruthless tyrant. Overconfidence defeated him at Waterloo. I don't have a choice anymore. Our friendship's over!" Clark hopped into his sedan and zoomed away from his former friend.
"Clark! Wait ... I can explain," Lex uttered in vain. Clark was the only true friend I had. I would have happily shared my triumphs with him. Now those triumphs will be mine alone. He clutched the watch in his hand. Someday, you'll be proud of me, Mom. Someday, all of America will listen to what I have to say ...
[First National construction site, 11:51 a.m.]
Mackenzie waited for the last of the workers to leave for lunch. He placed a pair of headphones on. Music seemed to help him concentrate. Focus. Let's have some Limp Biskit.
Chloe Sullivan walked across the courtyard below. The Planet's staffers were eating lunch outside. Not a cloud in the sky. She had no time for lunch. A final edit at the office and either of my stories will be ready to run.
My Thorne-mob-D.A. hit story was among my best work. Something to be proud of. My story about the mysterious green meteor, Clark's role and the implied guilt of Luthor Corp. ... well, I surpassed my expectations. Lex, the government, the military are all on the hook. This story spares no one. That won't happen ... if I kill the story. Clark, why didn't you tell me your secret? Because he couldn't trust me.
If I run with this story, I'll prove him right. Chloe Sullivan, the Betrayer. Dammit, Clark! And who the hell does that masked avenger think he is, demanding that I suppress the facts about Clark.
"You think you're special, you do ... I can see it in your eyes ..." Mackenzie began to sing. "I can see it when you laugh at me, look down on me, walk around on me ..."
Chloe paused before the huge steel globe of the Daily Planet, the finest newspaper in the midwest. Not even the reputable Gotham Times could achieve the Planet's worldwide reputation. Its correspondents criss-crossed the globe. Colombia. The Hague. Bosnia. Afghanistan. Indonesia. Now the Caucasus. Telling the stories of those soldiers who lived. And the Whitney Fordmans who gave their lives.
The city - no, the country - expects a Daily Planet reporter to tell the facts. Give them enough information to make reasonable conclusions and decisions. They can't do that if I cover up a story because I want to be a starry-eyed teenager again ... hoping that Clark Kent will ask me to the prom.
No. The story ... THAT story must be published. I'm a reporter. People are counting on the Planet to make sense of this complicated world. A world put at risk if Clark allows his powers to run roughshod through the country. Not to mention Lex's interest in the green meteor's powers. The public need to know outweighs my past friendship with Clark.
I must live up to that expectation. For the sake of Metropolis.
Mackenzie opened his electrician's bag and pulled out a high-powered rifle. He mounted it on the tripod. "Just one more fight about your leadership, and I will straight up leave your shit, 'cause I've had enough of this ..."
Chloe thought of the warning the dark knight had given. He would do whatever it took to prevent Clark from being manipulated - even if it meant killing him. I don't know what's worse: giving that vigilante the green light to pull his street justice crap in my city, or destroying Clark's life with a front page story. She checked her watch. 12:01. I can be in Perry White's office in five minutes. Fortune favours the brave, I've heard.
I must be brave. And tell the truth. She approached the main entrance of the Planet building.
Mackenzie adjusted the crosshairs of his scope. Aimed at the pretty crime reporter's heart. He flexed his gloved hands and placed his index finger on the trigger.
"... and now I'm pissed ... yeah!"
He cupped the base of the rifle and pulled the trigger. He nodded his head to the music. "This time I'm gonna let it all come out! This time I'm gonna stand up and shout! I'll do things my way - my way or the highway ..."
Chloe thought she heard a POP! The force of the bullet spun her around. The courtyard seemed to whirl. Faces became blurred. "Oh my god! She's been shot!" someone yelled. Chloe fell backwards onto the concrete. A patch of blood began to pool on her blouse. "Chloe! You're going to be alright." Is this a dream, she wondered. Lois Lane stroking my hair. "You're a fighter, Sullivan! The ambulance is on its way!!"
"... yes, I'll straight up leave your shit, and you'll be the one's who left ... missin' me ..." Mackenzie sang as he packed away his 'tools of the trade'.
Clark pulled up to building and noticed the crowd. "Clark! Chloe's been shot!!" No! Clark barged through the throng of on-lookers. No!! He tossed aside his jacket. With my speed, she'll be in the hospital in one minute. Before he could pick her up, half a dozen police officers pushed everyone away.
"Let me help her!!" Clark reached out towards Chloe, who was already pale- faced. "C-c-clark?" Chloe murmured. Clark shoved aside the officers and gripped her hand. "You pull through Chloe Sullivan, you hear me? You live! Whatever happens today ... you survive! You have to!" Two paramedics carted her into the ambulance.
"S-s-sorry," Chloe gasped, before she disappeared with the wailing sirens.
Clark, the most powerful man in Metropolis, was helpless. She'll make it, he hoped. Please - survive.
Mackenzie pushed the freight elevator button. He had a plane ticket to Bermuda and a well-deserved vacation.
Then he appeared in the elevator. "You don't know pain, Mackenzie. You will soon, if you don't tell me where I can fine your boss, Thorne!" Mackenzie lunged at him, but missed. In minutes, the hitman was battered and bruised.
"Where's Thorne!" Bruce demanded, yanking Mackenzie up by the collar. "You know what happens when Thorne messes around in Gotham. I bring the heat down! If you think I'm going to let you corrupt Metropolis with your rackets, you are gravely mistaken!"
"You're crazy!" Mackenzie spit out some blood. "Don't ... don't hurt me."
"You're going to the feds! You're going to tell them EVERYTHING!" Bruce growled. "Pray that Ms. Sullivan lives through the night. She dies ... and so do you, you bastard!" Mackenzie whimpered - perhaps realizing that this Gotham vigilante could kill him at any moment.
Hang on, Chloe, Bruce thought. If you pass away, who knows what Clark will do. Dear god, I hope he doesn't do something rash and stupid.
If he does, I'll have to clean up the mess ..
[AUTHOR'S NOTE: Keep your eyes open for the concluding chapter to 'The Path' ... soon!]
Lex supervised the installation of new security cameras throughout the STAR Labs plant. A non-descript concrete bunker-like building in Metropolis' east side, the plant was heavily fortified. Barbed wire-tipped fences, guard dogs and an armed security force with the authority to use lethal force. Yet, somehow, someone broke into the plant, evaded heat-sensitive sensors, eluded a dozen guard dogs and penetrated the secretive Lab #5.
It was secretive because that was where STAR Labs scientists performed experiments with the infamous Smallville green meteor. As of this morning, a sample was missing.
Who could have taken it? Luthor Corp. had battled the U.S. government in court for the right to possess those samples. I've heard the rumours: CIA agents and British MI6 operatives have joined STAR Labs staff ... to gain access to the mysterious meteor.
Could it have been Rupert Thorne? Is this a mob message: a demonstration of his formidable powers in the underworld? Possible, but not even the well- connected Gotham mafia would know about my research here.
"Marnie, I want you to do a thorough reference check on all STAR Labs personnel," he ordered on his cell phone. "The thief must have an inside contact."
The plant's chief of security handed him his letter of resignation - promptly at 9 a.m. He expected that he would be fired for the theft of the meteor sample. Lex smirked. Wise decision, because I would have canned his ass if he didn't resign.
He peered through the second-floor office blinds. The hastily arranged news conference put the public's fears at ease. There was a security breach, the Luthor Corp. spokesman admitted, but there was no threat to the public. As a courtesy, Lex called Metro P.D. personally to reassure them that the intruder stole "nothing of substance" from STAR Labs.
When the last of the Live Eye trucks left the STAR Labs parking lot, Lex stepped outside and sat on a bench in the employee parkette. The loss of the meteor was a problem, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. He was more concerned about the Inquisitor's trashy headline today: 'THE MOB MANHANDLES COUNCILLOR'S BRO ... DID LUTHOR ORDER THE ATTACK?!'
On the horizon, he saw Clark Kent walking towards him. Hmm, Lex thought, perhaps the Daily Planet can cast me in a better light ... before the mob story gets out of hand.
"Clark? You just missed the press conference. The Planet's technology reporter got the scoop, I'm afraid. Not much to tell, really. Between you and I, I think it was an inside job."
"Really," Clark stated. He knew exactly who stole the sample. The only one with the skills and training to succeed in such a daring theft. Bruce ... in his night shift role as the caped crusader.
"Lex, I'm actually here to talk to you. I need to know. The truth," Clark demanded.
"The truth about what?" Lex wondered.
"The attack on Councillor von Hutton's brother. It was a mob attack, wasn't it?"
Lex tried to avoid Clark's glare. "Look at me and tell me you're not involved with Rupert Thorne!" Clark raised his voice.
"No," Lex stated. "I don't know what Chloe or Lois have been telling you, but I have never met with Thorne - or counseled him to intimidate anyone at city hall."
"Did you know that Pete Ross' radio talk show is going national," Clark explained.
Lex raised an eyebrow. "That's the first I've heard of it, Clark."
"Bruce Wayne is launching a talk radio network across the country. Pete is going to be the network's headliner!" Clark sat beside his friend. Still a friend, at least for this morning. "Lex, he knows everything. He has a tape of you and Rupert Thorne plotting to intimidate the councillor into siding with your redevelopment plan!"
Lex buried his head in his hands. "No ... no, no, no! How did he do it? Pete has a friend with the FBI? Or was it ... damn! Bruce Wayne, that son of a bitch! Didn't I tell you he couldn't be relied on for anything. He'll do whatever it takes to destroy my family!"
"No, Lex," Clark interrupted, "you destroyed yourself. I'd like to see Metropolis become a great city, just like you ... but not at the expense of the public good."
"But unlike you," Lex snapped back, "I have the means and the power to make the city great. You think those fools in city hall have the vision to save Metropolis from becoming another Gotham City? I won't let that happen! Not in my city!"
"The city doesn't belong to you, Lex! It never did! Suppose you do win the redevelopment contracts. And maybe the city does win the Olympic bid. Can you live with that - knowing that you reached those heights by standing on Rupert Thorne's shoulders?"
Lex could barely restrain his temper, but he bit his lip. Clark is turning on me! How dare he? After all I've done for him ... his family! Stay focused, Lex. Clark is simply lashing out. Chloe must be feeding him some rumours she picked up from the street.
"Clark, please, let me explain. Have a seat." Lex pointed his hand at the bench.
"Why?" Clark asked. "Why ally yourself with the mob?"
Lex took off his watch. "Remember this? The watch my mother gave me. It's five minutes slow and lost some of its varnish, but it still works." Clark held it, staring at the watch face of the embedded Napoleonic-era coin.
"Have you been to the battlefield of Waterloo, Clark? I've been there a few times whenever I visit Belgium. It's quite a testament to Napoleon's accomplishments."
"But didn't the Duke of Wellington win that battle?"
"Ah, yes. Wellington managed to do what no other European army could do. He forced Bonaparte's Imperial Guard - the best troops in the whole Grande Armee - to retreat. The Brits were desperate. If they lost there, the French would have driven them into the sea."
"So you're saying Wellington got a lucky break?"
"No, what I'm saying is ... both men knew that Waterloo could make or break their legend. They seized the moment ... and to hell with the consequences. The battle could have gone either way ..."
"Why are you telling me this, Lex?" Clark stared at Bonaparte's face in the watch.
"The victors don't always get the spoils. Wellington won, and with it, all the glory and honours of the British Empire. Cities throughout the British Commonwealth bear his name. But even though he won at Waterloo, he went on to be a miserable - and forgettable - prime minister. People remember him BECAUSE of Napoleon. Napoleon, on the other hand, is immortal by any yardstick. By his natural abilities and sheer force of will, he laid the foundations for a modern Europe. His Napoleonic Code still thrives from the Pyrenees to the Alps. Leaders in every profession study his strategies. Two hundred years after the battle, his legacy lives on." He took back his watch. I'm sorry Mom, he thought, I can't be like you. Compassionate. Giving. I am my father's son.
"Don't you see, Clark," he continued. "That's what I want. The sports cars, the estate, the money ... those are material possessions. At any time, I could lose them all. The revitalization of Metropolis downtown core ... the Olympics ... those are lasting things that will make people sit up and listen. It's the 21st century: I can't simply enlist in an army and make a name for myself like Napoleon. My redevelopment plan - that will be my legacy. Two hundred years from now, I want people to remember the Luthor name."
"Oh I see, you would rather rule in hell than serve in heaven?!" Clark scoffed. "At what price ... what cost ... are you willing to pay to become a legend? You'll give the mob a free ride in Metropolis! If anything, you'll help them to turn the city into an urban wasteland! That's what's going to happen if you're depending on Rupert Thorne to forge this legacy of yours!"
Lex paced around the bench. "I've never asked anything from you. I've done whatever I needed to do to help you and your family. I'm asking you today to ante up, Clark. I understand that the Daily Planet intends to go after the mob over the next few weeks. Look, I'll prove my innocence, you'll see! But I need time to do that. Can you ... do something to put a hold on the mob stories ... at least until the council votes on the redevelopment plan? Chloe doesn't trust me, Lois Lane hates my guts ... you're the only one I can turn to. I'm asking as a friend ... can you put a lid on those stories?"
"I'm through doing favours for you, Lex. First you lied to me, now you're trying to cover up your criminal connections! What next, Lex? Are you going to order a hit on Chloe if she picks up Thorne's scent on you? You were my best friend. Closer than Pete, Chloe ... all of them ... I thought I could count on you." He stormed away.
"Were?" Lex tried to catch up to Clark.
"I can't be friends with you. Not anymore. You're in bed with the mob. That's not the Lex I knew in Smallville! The Lex Luthor I knew would have run Thorne and his goons out of town. You should have been the one shepherding the anti-racketeering bill through Congress. Now that will be Bruce Wayne's legacy. I can't imagine what yours will be. You forget, Napoleon was a ruthless tyrant. Overconfidence defeated him at Waterloo. I don't have a choice anymore. Our friendship's over!" Clark hopped into his sedan and zoomed away from his former friend.
"Clark! Wait ... I can explain," Lex uttered in vain. Clark was the only true friend I had. I would have happily shared my triumphs with him. Now those triumphs will be mine alone. He clutched the watch in his hand. Someday, you'll be proud of me, Mom. Someday, all of America will listen to what I have to say ...
[First National construction site, 11:51 a.m.]
Mackenzie waited for the last of the workers to leave for lunch. He placed a pair of headphones on. Music seemed to help him concentrate. Focus. Let's have some Limp Biskit.
Chloe Sullivan walked across the courtyard below. The Planet's staffers were eating lunch outside. Not a cloud in the sky. She had no time for lunch. A final edit at the office and either of my stories will be ready to run.
My Thorne-mob-D.A. hit story was among my best work. Something to be proud of. My story about the mysterious green meteor, Clark's role and the implied guilt of Luthor Corp. ... well, I surpassed my expectations. Lex, the government, the military are all on the hook. This story spares no one. That won't happen ... if I kill the story. Clark, why didn't you tell me your secret? Because he couldn't trust me.
If I run with this story, I'll prove him right. Chloe Sullivan, the Betrayer. Dammit, Clark! And who the hell does that masked avenger think he is, demanding that I suppress the facts about Clark.
"You think you're special, you do ... I can see it in your eyes ..." Mackenzie began to sing. "I can see it when you laugh at me, look down on me, walk around on me ..."
Chloe paused before the huge steel globe of the Daily Planet, the finest newspaper in the midwest. Not even the reputable Gotham Times could achieve the Planet's worldwide reputation. Its correspondents criss-crossed the globe. Colombia. The Hague. Bosnia. Afghanistan. Indonesia. Now the Caucasus. Telling the stories of those soldiers who lived. And the Whitney Fordmans who gave their lives.
The city - no, the country - expects a Daily Planet reporter to tell the facts. Give them enough information to make reasonable conclusions and decisions. They can't do that if I cover up a story because I want to be a starry-eyed teenager again ... hoping that Clark Kent will ask me to the prom.
No. The story ... THAT story must be published. I'm a reporter. People are counting on the Planet to make sense of this complicated world. A world put at risk if Clark allows his powers to run roughshod through the country. Not to mention Lex's interest in the green meteor's powers. The public need to know outweighs my past friendship with Clark.
I must live up to that expectation. For the sake of Metropolis.
Mackenzie opened his electrician's bag and pulled out a high-powered rifle. He mounted it on the tripod. "Just one more fight about your leadership, and I will straight up leave your shit, 'cause I've had enough of this ..."
Chloe thought of the warning the dark knight had given. He would do whatever it took to prevent Clark from being manipulated - even if it meant killing him. I don't know what's worse: giving that vigilante the green light to pull his street justice crap in my city, or destroying Clark's life with a front page story. She checked her watch. 12:01. I can be in Perry White's office in five minutes. Fortune favours the brave, I've heard.
I must be brave. And tell the truth. She approached the main entrance of the Planet building.
Mackenzie adjusted the crosshairs of his scope. Aimed at the pretty crime reporter's heart. He flexed his gloved hands and placed his index finger on the trigger.
"... and now I'm pissed ... yeah!"
He cupped the base of the rifle and pulled the trigger. He nodded his head to the music. "This time I'm gonna let it all come out! This time I'm gonna stand up and shout! I'll do things my way - my way or the highway ..."
Chloe thought she heard a POP! The force of the bullet spun her around. The courtyard seemed to whirl. Faces became blurred. "Oh my god! She's been shot!" someone yelled. Chloe fell backwards onto the concrete. A patch of blood began to pool on her blouse. "Chloe! You're going to be alright." Is this a dream, she wondered. Lois Lane stroking my hair. "You're a fighter, Sullivan! The ambulance is on its way!!"
"... yes, I'll straight up leave your shit, and you'll be the one's who left ... missin' me ..." Mackenzie sang as he packed away his 'tools of the trade'.
Clark pulled up to building and noticed the crowd. "Clark! Chloe's been shot!!" No! Clark barged through the throng of on-lookers. No!! He tossed aside his jacket. With my speed, she'll be in the hospital in one minute. Before he could pick her up, half a dozen police officers pushed everyone away.
"Let me help her!!" Clark reached out towards Chloe, who was already pale- faced. "C-c-clark?" Chloe murmured. Clark shoved aside the officers and gripped her hand. "You pull through Chloe Sullivan, you hear me? You live! Whatever happens today ... you survive! You have to!" Two paramedics carted her into the ambulance.
"S-s-sorry," Chloe gasped, before she disappeared with the wailing sirens.
Clark, the most powerful man in Metropolis, was helpless. She'll make it, he hoped. Please - survive.
Mackenzie pushed the freight elevator button. He had a plane ticket to Bermuda and a well-deserved vacation.
Then he appeared in the elevator. "You don't know pain, Mackenzie. You will soon, if you don't tell me where I can fine your boss, Thorne!" Mackenzie lunged at him, but missed. In minutes, the hitman was battered and bruised.
"Where's Thorne!" Bruce demanded, yanking Mackenzie up by the collar. "You know what happens when Thorne messes around in Gotham. I bring the heat down! If you think I'm going to let you corrupt Metropolis with your rackets, you are gravely mistaken!"
"You're crazy!" Mackenzie spit out some blood. "Don't ... don't hurt me."
"You're going to the feds! You're going to tell them EVERYTHING!" Bruce growled. "Pray that Ms. Sullivan lives through the night. She dies ... and so do you, you bastard!" Mackenzie whimpered - perhaps realizing that this Gotham vigilante could kill him at any moment.
Hang on, Chloe, Bruce thought. If you pass away, who knows what Clark will do. Dear god, I hope he doesn't do something rash and stupid.
If he does, I'll have to clean up the mess ..
[AUTHOR'S NOTE: Keep your eyes open for the concluding chapter to 'The Path' ... soon!]
