CHAPTER VIII
Bruno Mannheim was one of the biggest players in Metropolis. He was practically at the top, with a family of organized crime that could be rivaled by only a few. Not only was his "business" a terrifying reality, but the man himself was of impressive stature. He was six-and-a-half feet tall, with a barrel-shaped midsection and long, thick arms. Sometimes, instead of sending out one of his men, he'd take out targets himself. The scenes he left behind were never pretty. But he was about to meet his match. Manchester Black and his new companion John Corben stood outside a bar where Mannheim was having a few drinks. Manchester looked towards John, saying, "Moment of truth." "Why aren't you going in with me?" John asked Manchester nervously. Manchester scoffed and replied, "You don't need my help. Mannheim might be a big guy, but you're practically indestructible." "Well, what am I supposed to do?" asked John, "Just walk up and slug him?" "Of course not," Manchester chastised him, "Be a little theatric. It never hurts." John sighed, walking to the entrance. He turned around. Manchester had already disappeared from view. He heard his voice in his head, urging him, "Don't just stand there gawking. You know I can't be seen. Just go in." John reluctantly entered. Mannheim was drinking while two women talked with him. John didn't want to open his mouth, but another one of Manchester's psychic communications hit him. John whispered, "You sure?" "Just say it," snapped Manchester. John sighed again, doing as he was told.
Mannheim looked up, turning towards John and saying, "Now, even I don't say things like that in front of ladies." "How'd you even come up with that?" whispered John. Manchester replied, "British wit." Mannheim challenged, "Who're you talking to?" "No one," John quickly responded. "Must be crazy," mused Mannheim, "Especially since you made such a rude comment regarding my genitals." He cracked his knuckles and neck, continuing, "I don't take kindly to things like that." He said to the two women behind him, "You'd better wait in our car. I'll take care of this guy." The women walked off, giving John the middle finger as they passed. Mannheim walked closer to John. "Not going to take the first punch?" asked Mannheim, raising an eyebrow, "Okay. I can respect deference." He threw a punch to John's midsection. John recoiled, but he barely felt the blow. Mannheim clutched his hand, saying, "Gah! You must do some pretty intense core workouts. Or you're just wearing body armor." John raised the hem of his shirt to reveal his bare stomach. "Neither," he said sinisterly. He dropped his shirt, punching Mannheim in his stomach. Mannheim backed up about ten feet, spitting blood. John easily made him keel over, stamping on his lower leg and breaking it severely. Manchester said to John, "Finish him off." John stared a Mannheim. "N-no," John said slowly. John's head suddenly felt like it was on fire. Manchester was obviously angry.
It passed after a few seconds, and Manchester said, "Fine. Why?" "I don't want to take someone else's life," John replied, "I've done it too many times already." "Understandable," said Manchester. Suddenly, a green bolt of energy rushed straight through Mannheim's heart. Just like all the times before, there was no blood. Mannheim's shock was displayed in his dying eyes. He moved no more. Manchester materialized beside John. "Why'd you…?" John began asking. "You said you wouldn't kill him," Manchester interrupted, "I never said I wouldn't. Come on." Manchester turned and walked out of the bar. John slowly followed, trying not to think about Mannheim. The two women were still waiting out in their car. John was shielded from their vision by Manchester, who walked up to the women and planted the thought, "Drive home," into their heads. As if in a trance, one of the women climbed into the driver's seat and started the car, driving off. Manchester uncloaked both John and himself, saying, "I get it, John. But if you don't do what needs to be done, I will. Remember that well." John nodded slowly, clenching his jaw. "Who's next?" he asked in spite of himself. "Well, first let me show you something," replied Manchester. Encasing his feet in psychic energy again, he sped off. John followed swiftly, and they arrived just beside a swarm of reporters.
"Why're we here?" asked John. Manchester had psychically cloaked them both once again, and it was starting to wear him down. "We're here because…of him," he huffed. He pointed to an intimidating bald man, who was trying to get through the reporters. One of them shouted, "Mr. Luthor, is the rumored merger with Kord Industries a go?" Luthor gestured for the other reporters to quiet, and he replied, "Mr. Kord has decided to cancel the merger on account of his son, Ted. The boy turned five not too long ago. He told me he doesn't want Ted to help run a weapons company when he grows up. It's unfortunate, if I do say so myself." The reporters continued to bombard Luthor with questions. John was confused, asking Manchester, "That's the guy who runs Lexcorp. Sure, he makes weapons, but he can't be that bad." "You should've thought…more about that statement," retorted Manchester, "I can read his mind…remember? It's almost all he thinks about…weapons, that is. He's not going to be our next target, but...he's down the list somewhere. Just remember that." Manchester's powers gave out, and both he and John were revealed. Fortunately, all the attention was being given to Luthor, and so they slipped away unnoticed to recover. Perpetually prepared, Manchester huddled into their hiding place and ate and drank. He eventually took out a cigarette and lit it. "There's an unseen infrastructure to crime," Manchester breathed out, "An invisible hierarchy. Luthor over there is at the top of the chain. To get to him, you'd have to destabilize everyone else." John looked at the ground, trying to grasp what he was getting himself into.
Bruno Mannheim's death was broadcasted as widely as any of the previous murders. I pleaded to get on the scene, and Mr. White eventually caved, saying, "Fine, Kent." I said, "Thank you, sir. I won't let you down." "You'd better not," Mr. White cautioned me. I nodded, running to Jimmy and telling him, "Get Lois and meet me at the bar where Mannheim was killed. Something's different about this one." We all met up at the bar about half an hour later. I was standing just outside, and Jimmy and Lois walked up to me when they arrived. Lois asked me, "Why haven't you gone in yet?" "I…" I tried. I stopped. Lois obviously didn't understand why I was so apprehensive, but she didn't ask me anything else. All three of us walked into the bar. We'd previously gotten permission from the police, but the body had already been removed. There were a few small puddles of blood, but nothing else. "I'm going to see if there's anything in the back," I said, "I'll get back here in a minute." Jimmy and Lois nodded their approval, and I swiftly removed myself from the main room, going to the back. I said, "Open communication. Kelex, I'm at the crime scene of Bruno Mannheim's murder, but there's not much left to see. You got anything that could help?" "No," said Kelex, "But you do. You have super vision." "I have what?" I asked, surprised. "Advanced ocular abilities," answered Kelex, "You've basically got a pair of binoculars for eyeballs." "Okay," I nodded, "Close communication." I walked back into the main room, kneeling on the floor near the puddles of blood.
Lois asked me, "Hey, did you find anything back there?" "Uh, no," I said quickly, trying to retain my focus on the floor. I imagined my field of vision becoming more magnified, and it happened slowly but surely. It gradually sped up, and the floor became much clearer. I could easily trace the grain of the hard wood, and then I noticed something standing out from the blood. It was a collection of small white shards. I got down even closer, getting my best look at it. I realized what the collection was of, whispering, "Bone shards." "What is it?" asked Jimmy, raising his eyebrows. I turned towards him, answering, "Bone shards. This is from Mannheim's leg. It was broken pretty badly." "So, why does it mean anything?" asked Lois, unimpressed. "This means that Manchester didn't do this," I answered sternly, "Or at least, not all of it. That's why." I looked back at what was left of Mannheim's remains, continuing, "This isn't how Manchester operates. I mean, he finished him off. The hole through Mannheim's heart attests to that. But he wasn't the one who left the blood and these bone shards. No, somebody else did that. Someone strong. They'd have to be. Mannheim was notorious for being his own enforcer. A badly bruised hand, internal damage, and a broken leg. Yeah. This had to be Manchester's new partner." The gravity of this new development had an overt impact on Jimmy and Lois.
"Who could it be?" asked Lois. "No idea," I lied, the green blip from Kelex's monitor popping into my head. I was still uncertain as to the identity of the man or woman behind the blip, but I was able to add, "All I know is that Superman is going to have even more trouble than we thought." I sighed, standing and turning to my friends. I said, "We'd better head back to the Planet. We're not going to find anything else here." We went back, and I began a draft of a new article detailing our findings. My worry grew with every key I hit. I stopped several times to regain my composure and my focus on my work. Later, Jimmy and I went back to our dorm. Jimmy was Skyping with Paige while I put on the identity of Superman. Jimmy said, "Hold on one second, Paige." He muted his side, asking me, "Where you going?" "I'm just going to go flying, is all," I said, "It helps." "All right," nodded Jimmy, "See you later." "You too," I said. Jimmy unmuted his side, saying, "Sorry, Paige. It's just Clark. He's taking a walk." "Say hi to him for me," I overheard Paige say. "You got it," Jimmy smiled. He looked towards me, and I gave him a thumbs-up. I went out our window quickly, flying away from the college. I went into the downtown area of Metropolis, looking for something to do. I suddenly noticed a mugging in progress. "Here we go," I sighed, diving towards the scene.
I landed in the midst of the three muggers, in the way of their victim, quipping, "You know there are easier ways to get nice stuff. Amazon, for example." "Superman!" exclaimed one of the muggers. "You got me," I said nonchalantly, kicking the mugger in the chest. He flew backwards, into the wall of a nearby building. I turned to the man they were attempting to rob. "You'll want to go," I said to him. He ran away, and I turned back to the other two muggers. "It's just the three of us now," I challenged them. One of them fired his handgun at me, the bullet bouncing off my thigh. "Never skip leg day, that's my motto," I said, rushing towards the shooter and tossing him away. The other mugger looked at me and shouted, "Just wait until Manchester Black gets to you! You won't be joking then." "Maybe not," I said, punching him. He dropped to the ground. His remark lingered in my worrisome mind.
