CHAPTER XI

I brought the Flamebird project back to Jimmy, with instructions on how to put it on. I asked him, "Are you sure? You're still sick. It might not work out well." Jimmy sluggishly rose from his bed, answering, "No, I'll be fine. Just tell me how to get it on." I sighed, saying, "All right, but if you throw up in there, it's your responsibility." "Sure," Jimmy groaned. A few agonizingly slow minutes later, and Jimmy was in the suit. He moved around tentatively, his voice sounding echoic and far away inside. "This is…weird," he said, squatting and rotating his torso a couple times. "I don't feel as slow. It's like the suit's supporting me, like an exoskeleton. What else can it do?" "Well, you're right about it supporting you," I said, "It'll also make your physical attacks stronger. It can fly, too. Say 'prepare thrusters'." Jimmy repeated, "Prepare thrusters." Small booster rockets popped out of the suit's forearms, lower legs, back, and waist. I told him all the other verbal commands, which would activate and deactivate the individual pairs of rockets. "Be precise when you're using them," I said. "Sure," said Jimmy, "I'll be as precise as a surgeon." "Not sure that applies here," I said. "It'll have to do," Jimmy said, "Hide thrusters." The rockets quickly went back into the suit, and Jimmy got out of it, continuing, "We're going to have to be creative about hiding this thing." "We'll cross that bridge when we get there, I guess," I said, nodding, "But you know, with this suit, you'll be more fit to go up against Metallo. You okay with that?" "Sure," Jimmy responded, "I'll fight for you any day. You're my best friend." I nodded, showing my appreciation.

I suddenly got a call from Lois. "Duty calls," I said. I was worried about what had happened to my face, but I knew Lois would get even more suspicious if I just didn't go to her. So I changed into plain clothes and went to the address she gave me. When I got there, I discovered there was a press conference. "Why are we here, exactly?" I asked, sort of confused. Lois answered, "This conference is going to be about the upcoming replacement of some city council members who were fired. If I can get a good story on this, I might even get better pay." I smiled, saying, "So why do you need me?" "You've got a better eye for photos, which is why I asked you to bring yours," she answered. I produced my camera, saying, "Well, thanks. I hope you get a good story." "Oh, hurry up!" Lois said suddenly. She power-walked towards a seemingly random person. I got a few shots of people attending the conference, following Lois. I watched her perform an interview and marveled. She was confident, unflinching, and somewhat intimidating. She wore a perfectly straight face and kept an ice-cold look in her eyes. When she didn't feel she was given straight answers, she let the interviewee know and pressed harder. I smirked. I really like this girl, I thought to myself. When the interview ended, Lois sent her subject off with a handshake and a firm look. She turned back towards me with a brilliant smile, asking, "How'd I do?" "Perfect," I nodded, "Don't worry, I think you got what you came for." Lois hugged me, saying, "Thanks, Clark." Her expression faltered.

"What happened to your face?" she asked, concerned. "It's nothing," I said. Lois touched my scratches, saying, "No it's not. It's like you got into a fight." "No, really, I'm fine," I insisted. Lois' previous mode came over her again, and she asked, "Clark, what are you keeping from me?" I sighed, "It's nothing you need to worry about, Lois, I'm…" "Shut up," Lois interrupted, angry, "You're lying to me about something. You'd better tell me the truth right now. I'll wait for a minute, but if you don't tell me what's going on that messed you up like this, I'll be even angrier." "I…" I began. Lois' lip was trembling slightly, and I could feel my eyes getting misty. I stuttered for a little bit. I couldn't tell her. Not just because I was afraid for her safety, but also because…I just felt that way. How could I be so callous?, I thought, I'm about to make her cry, and I still won't tell her. I eventually sighed, the selfish side prevailing. "I can't," I murmured. Lois shed a few tears, not able to meet my gaze. "Lois…" I tried. "No!" Lois growled, slapping me suddenly, "You had your chance to explain yourself. You're supposed to be my friend." "I-I am!" I half-pleaded. "Well, you've sure dropped the ball there," Lois said contemptuously. "Look, I'm sorry, I just can't," I said, "You have to understand." "You must be wrong, because I don't understand," Lois sobbed softly. She turned and walked off. She turned back for a few seconds, saying, "And you can forget about Saturday!" "Lois, I'm sorry!" I said loudly. Lois ignored me, walking to her car. As she started it, she gave me one last glance. I held up my hand, silently asking her to wait. Asking her to give me another chance. She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. She drove off, and I lowered my hand.

Defeated, I walked back to my dorm room, feeling heavier than usual. I was definitely walking slower than anyone else on the sidewalk. It felt like everyone was staring at me in pity. It burned me. An anger slowly rose in my chest, but not at Lois. I was angry at myself, Jor-El, Kelex, and Superman. Most of all, I was incensed with Superman. He was what I was hiding, and he had the gall to convince me to keep him hidden. You're a coward, Superman, I thought. You and I aren't that far separated, it felt like he shot back. I looked down at my hand, staring at the slight abrasions on my knuckles. I closed it into a fist. I guess we aren't, I thought. I walked slower after that. I cursed my powers, wishing more than ever that I was human. I passed by a store with TVs on display. They were showing the news, which was running a story about a firefight between the police and a white supremacist named Alex Trent, who called himself Bloodsport. Several cops had already been injured or killed, and Bloodsport had plenty of backup with him. I heard somebody say quietly, "Where are you, Superman?" I was angry at Superman then, but I knew I needed him anyway. So I shook my head with regret and walked away, heading into an alley and changing into Superman. I shot out of the alley, heading towards the fight. It felt like I was flying at a lower rate of speed. It's probably nothing, I thought. I heard gunshots eventually, looking down and seeing the bloody scene in the distance.

I saw Bloodsport. Just as you'd expect, he had blond hair and blue eyes, and he had Aryan Brotherhood symbols all over him in the form of tattoos, including a stylized S on the backs of both his hands. When he turned around, I noticed a red swastika on the back of his neck. Along with three sixes on his right arm, he also wore a white tactical mask over his mouth and nose. Aside from that, he only wore plain clothes adorned with racist memorabilia. I landed right in front of him. "Hi, Superman," Bloodsport said, somewhat surprised, "What brings you here?" "I'm here to stop you, Bloodsport," I answered. Bloodsport asked, "Stop me from doing what? I'm just getting rid of some dirty #$%% & and the people who love them." I looked behind me. I realized only black police officers had been severely wounded. "You're going to pay for this," I said. "Show me," Bloodsport challenged. I punched his midsection, sending him into the side of a car. He groaned loudly, and his mask stained with blood. "How's that for showing you?" I yelled in defiance. Bloodsport wheezed, "Keep hitting them, boys." His henchmen kept firing at the police. A few were also going at me. I walked forward confidently. I already know they can't get me, I thought. Ordinarily, real guns didn't even hurt as much as a Nerf dart. Of course, that is ordinarily. One bullet caught me square in the chest. I stepped back. It felt just short of getting shot with a vest on. I was confused and slightly terrified.

The henchman that'd shot me shouted, "I thought you were some kind of tough guy, Superman! Having an off day?!" I suddenly realized that fighting them wouldn't be as beneficial to the police as getting them all out of there. Not in my current condition, anyway. I sped towards the police and got them away from the scene. When I returned, Bloodsport was standing up, supporting himself on car he'd gone up against. "You want to play that way?" he groaned, "Well, fine. Light him up, boys! He's just a stumbling block. And surely even he can't withstand that many bullets for a long time." All the henchmen began firing directly at me. I dodged most of them, but one caught the side of my face and another hit my hand. Each impact felt like a punch. Involuntary tears of pain started welling up as I was pummeled by the bullets. I swore again and again, the unexpected blunt pain nearly overwhelming me. I managed to rush over to one of their cars, an SUV. I grabbed its front bumper and flipped it over. With it out of the way, I was able to take down several members of Bloodsport's personal battalion. The pain of the bullets was all over my body by this time. Even Bloodsport seemed slightly confused. He thought something would give, but not this soon. I fought through the pain and swept through Bloodsport's ranks, eventually reaching the man himself. He lowered his own gun, saying, "I'll admit defeat. But one thing…why don't you join us? You're obviously above everyone else, especially those black apes." I lowered my head and pulled down my mask for an instant, spitting on Bloodsport's shoe. My own blood was mixed with the saliva. I punched Bloodsport in the chest. He dropped like a pile of bricks. I turned away, walking with a slight limp.

A couple hours later, I was in a hospital gown at the Metropolis General Hospital. I had walked in in plain clothes right up to the front desk. I fed them a story that I'd been jumped, but because I'd left my wallet at home on accident, the muggers just decided to beat me up. It was easily believable, seeing as how I was covered in bruises and small cuts. They admitted me, and you know the rest. Jimmy walked in a few minutes after I got in the bed, asking, "Clark? Are you okay?" "I'll survive," I said somewhat weakly. "I'm sorry Lois isn't here," Jimmy said, "I tried calling her, but she didn't pick up." "I understand," I said. "What do you mean, 'I understand'?" Jimmy said, shocked, "I know you like Lois. You guys have a date on Saturday, for crying out loud! I mean…" I interrupted, "No, we don't." "Don't what?" Jimmy asked. "We don't…have a date on Saturday," I said. Jimmy didn't say anything. He just let his jaw drop. He sat down in a chair next to me, staring straight ahead. He didn't ask me what happened, which I highly appreciated. I looked at my bruised left arm, saying, "I guess she won't find out about this until I show up to work next. That is, if she's willing to actually look at me." I told Jimmy how my powers had somehow weakened during my fight with Bloodsport. "That's crazy," he said. I nodded. Neither of us said another word. Meanwhile, an invisible Englishman stood just outside my hospital room. He telepathically communicated with John Corben, saying, "I know who Superman is, and how we can leverage him." John hesitated, almost fearing what kind of machinations Manchester Black was planning. "How?" he finally asked. "We get his girlfriend," Manchester answered. He grinned evilly.