Chapter 29

Bayville High...

It's not until Monday Clark gets a chance to meet with Principal Fine again. Mostly because he's assuming that his Principal probably didn't get back from Metropolis until late Sunday plus, of course, Clark himself has to pretend he needed some considerable time to get back from Metropolis.

And of course technically Clark is at Star Labs right now...or he was a week ago from his perspective.

Little bit confusing yes?

Bottom line, meeting Principal Fine on a normal Monday morning avoided any awkward questions that Clark may struggle to answer.

So 1st thing he goes to the Principal's office and gets invited in.

"How is Ms Rojas?" Principal Fine asks first off.

"Fine. Well going to be. I managed to contact my friends at the Institute and they contacted their friends at Star Labs...well long story short, they're working on the serum and she should be back to normal by the end of the week, along with all the others," Clark spins the story. It's not entirely untrue but remember what he said. It's all happening right now at Star Labs.

"Others?" Fine queries.

"Yeah...after I left the diner I did more digging through Andrea's notes. Found the escapee test subject. She had set up her own little vampire sorority at Met U," Clark once again spins a story.

"Interesting," Fine remarks. "Well it seems that it will all end well then."

"Hopefully."

"Has any of them said anything interesting?"

"In their current state can't trust a thing they say." And it seems like Andrea and all the other girls' memories as well are very, very hazy. As much as Clark would like answers perhaps it would be better to let them forget. Well maybe not better but easier, perhaps, for them to resume their lives without remembering the possibly very unpleasant things they've probably done.

"Wise, Mr Kent. Very wise. Always get corroboration."

"That's journalism rule number 1...almost. Well it's up there," he says before Clark realises he's babbling.

Fine chuckles and lets it pass. "When Ms Rojas is well perhaps you can pass on my apology to her for what has transpired. I deeply regret my part in her becoming infected."

"I will but I'm sure she'll understand that you never meant this to happen. Though I will admit I do still find it curious this little hobby of yours," Clark drops in. It had been one the things puzzling him during all this, his Principal's involvement. "Especially how you got your hands on confidential Luthorcorp material."

"I admire your curiosity Mr Kent but in this case you're missing the blindingly obvious," Fine criticises. "This whole event was caused by the chaos of Lionel Luthor's fall. In that chaos many secrets escaped into the world. It's not too hard to find so-called confidential Luthorcorp material around, for sale at the right price."

Clark's brow furrows. That could perhaps be true. Still for some reason he can't help but feel he's missing something.

"I hope this little escapade hasn't damaged our relationship Mr Kent," Fine expresses a desire.

"I wouldn't think so, Principal Fine."

"Good. I enjoy our little debates."

"As do I," Clark admits. He must confess that. Principal Fine is a fascinating man to debate against.

"Now I'm sure you have a busy day ahead so I won't keep you here any further. I'm certain Ms West would love to hear your story of the weekend past."

"That's one way of putting it," Clark says with a touch of dread. He suspects Iris' reaction would be much like Chloe's when he relayed this story. Oh, you're probably wondering how it's going with Andrea at the Institute and Chloe's desire to play dead. Lets just say no-one expects to see Chloe leave her room much this week. It's awkward but what can you do huh. Chloe just isn't ready to be seen as she is now.

Clark sighs as he gets to his feet. Why can't his life ever be simple is the question peculating his brain. "Well I'll go. Thank you Principal Fine. Though I still wish I knew exactly what happened to Andrea."

"Perhaps she'll reveal something when she's cured."

"Yeah. Perhaps," Clark says, already knowing that she doesn't know anything. He leaves.

Shortly after he leaves...

Whoosh!

A new figure arrives in the office. One identical in appearance to Fine. Another drone of Brainiac. Just arrived from Metropolis. The one who actually spoke to Clark in that diner.

"I believe Kal-El is not entirely convinced by our story," the new one says to the one playing Milton Fine.

"It matters not," 'Fine' says. "It has achieved enough in progressing his trust in us as an ally...which was the intent."

"If I was organic I think I would find his last question humorously ironic about what happened to Ms Rojas."

"It is fortunate we are not organic isn't it. And if Kal-El had been less contaminated by these humans he would have easily worked it out by now."

"Yes. That we arranged it all."

Flashback...

The two identical Brainiac drones stand upon the rooftop of a building opposite the Daily Planet building in Metropolis as they watch Ms Rojas work on the project they gave her.

"She's efficient for a human," one remarks. "I do believe she will figure out the clues we left her."

"Yes," the other agrees. "For a moment I had been concerned we had been too subtle for her primitive brain to put it together."

"Then we must prepare for the next stage. Summon the others."

For Buffy Sanders it had all happened out of the blue. One moment she's Queen of her own little vampire pack, next all her sisters and herself had been restrained by these...things. She didn't know what they were. They weren't human. They were far, far stronger than she was. They were all identical though. 6 of them. One each for herself and her sisters.

Next things Buffy knows is that the finger of this...'guy' has morphed into some sort of probe thingy which is then rammed into her brain.

"You have a choice Ms Sanders," it says in a flat emotionless tone. "You can do what I say or you can die...and before you argue I do know how to kill you." It turns its head and fire shoots from its eyes, turning a really tasteful little table to ash. The glowing eyes then turn back to gaze at her.

Buffy swallows involuntarily. Been awhile since she's felt this sort of fear.

"What is your response?" it requires an answer of her.

"W-what is it you want?" Buffy stammers her question out of fear.

"A reporter is going to come, investigating you. You're going to infect her with the virus you carry."

"That's it?" Buffy queries, confused by the simplicity of the demand.

"That is all you require to know," the 'guy' tells her. "It has all been planned. Just do what I say, when I say and you and your...kind will be allowed to continue existing. What say you?"

Like she has a choice. "S-sure. Anything you say."

"Excellent," it says as he releases her. Brainiac withdraws his probe. It could have rewritten her entire neural structure and turned her into a drone but that would be unnecessary. All it has done is left behind a block, preventing her saying anything about it, especially to Kal-El when he comes, which he will because its part of the plan. And turning her into a drone is unnecessary because once it has freed Zod, Ms Sanders and her kind will become as irrelevant as humanity...and equally as extinct.

And so Andrea comes, investigating. Peering in through a window...when next thing she knows is nothing as Brainiac rushes in at superspeed and incapacitates her before she can react. It picks her up and carries her inside and lays her on a couch. Buffy and her sister look on in obedience, waiting for their orders.

Brainiac has been on Earth for months. More than enough time to study the mutations caused by Krypton's radioactive materials. He produces a needle and injects its contents into Andrea. Lead, just enough concentration to temporarily neutralise her abilities. Making her quite vulnerable.

"Do it," he orders Buffy.

Buffy isn't happy about this but what choice does she have. She strides over to the Latino woman, bends down, brings out her fangs and bites into the neck. Ugh, all that lead. The taste is disgusting. She ends up spitting out most of it. She then cuts her own hand to draw out a drop of blood and directs it into Andrea's mouth, making sure she swallows it, infecting the helpless woman with the virus she carries.

Buffy stands up. "There. When she wakes she'll been one of us," she informs 'him'.

"Excellent. Now leave," Brainiac orders them.

They do so and Brainiac moves to stand over Andrea, bends down and injects one of its probes into her brain. It brings its lips to her ears and whispers its instructions. "Listen well, Ms Rojas. When you awaken your 1st, your only thought will be to drink the blood of the one you know as Clark Kent. You will lure him to you." All the time his probe is also implanting these instructions in her mind. She'll have to obey. She'll be unable not to.

The Present...

Then all Brainiac had to do was wait. Wait for Kal-El to show up. Wait for him to put the pieces together. The ones Brainiac made sure were left behind. Wait for him to try and arrange a meeting with Andrea's 'contact'.

It all went according to plan and now Kal-El trusts him more than before. It's a process, moving forward in calculated stages. And the next will begin soon.

"Did you create it?" Fine asks his double.

The drone reaches into its pocket and produces a rock the size of its hand. A black rock with veins of silver ore within.


Elsewhere...

Lois had discovered something while being stuck alone on this small island. Not that she can't survive, she can...though she'd kill for a hamburger...and a cigarette. Yes, yes she knows. They're terrible for her health and that she 'quit'. Screw that. She's alone on a desert island after all.

No, what she has discovered is her being alone with her thoughts is a terrible idea. If there's anyone in the world Lois can't get along with it's herself.

Which would be why she sits on the beach just staring into the fire she made, trying not to think too much.

"And how are we doing today, Lois?"

Lois blinks, looks up and standing on the other side of the fire the white-skinned bitch who left her here.

A small impish grin adorns the face of the Black Swan. She waggles her finger. "Remember I'm the only one who can get you home before you consider anything violent," she says as if knowing the thoughts going through Lois' head.

Her words do in fact make Lois stamp down her urge to kick the bitch's ass.

Black Swan strides round the fire until she comes to sit down next to Lois. "Lovely evening we're having, yes?"

Lois turns her head and gives the woman the glare of death.

"Thought over what I said?" Black Swan queries.

No reply.

"You really need to answer that one because I'm not taking you home until you do," Black Swan informs the brunette.

Lois coughs to clear her throat. "What in particular are you referring to?"

"My words of advice on Superman. Why are you hunting him? For the truth or your own personal vendetta? Which by the way is crap as I said. Superman saved you all at the price of being shorn from his own kind. I wonder in his shoes would you have made the same choice?"

"How can I know that?"

"You were there," Black Swan reminds her. "You saw them. What they did. Consider this. Your species is all but extinct. For a long time you think you're alone only to discover you're not but the other survivors, as it turns out, are criminals. Psychopaths, murderers and monsters. What do you do? What choice do you make? Which side do you pick? Sounds easy in theory to answer that but who wants to be alone? Who chooses to condemn themselves to being the last of their kind? You criticise Superman but you have no idea the pain he has to inflict upon himself just so you can have the right to criticise him."

"Why are you defending him?" Lois wants to know.

"For a reporter you're a bad listener," Black Swan critiques. "I said it all at the warehouse."

"Patricia Swann. You really are her?" Lois queries.

"I was. A long time ago. There's enough left of her inside me to desire to fulfil my father's promise and finish his work." She then rises to her feet.

"Where are you going?"

"Away. You need more time to think on what I said since clearly you haven't before."

Panic rises up inside Lois at the prospect of more time here. "No! Wait! I thought about it!" she argues as she jumps to her feet.

"Really?" Black Swan queries sceptically. "That why you can't answer my points?"

"Give me a minute!" Lois protests.

Black Swan makes an exaggerated gesture of checking a watch on her wrist that isn't there.

Lois paces a little and takes a moment to calm herself. "Ok, ok...let me see here," she says, buying herself a few extra seconds. "I was angry at what those two aliens did. They murdered soldiers simply doing their jobs and I grew up in a military family. I know what that must do to their families."

"Go on," Black Swan says, giving Lois this chance.

"And you know I wasn't angry at Superman back then. I was angry at the government for covering up what happened, for lying to those same families over how their loved ones died."

"Oh dear, a government cover-up. That never happens, right," Black Swan mocks in sarcastic tones.

"I didn't even realise what Superman was until he came right out and said it to Congress and I guess...I suppose I transferred my anger to him because it seemed like he was part of the cover-up."

"Freud would be so proud of that analysis but you're not done. Continue."

"Then on top of that, right there and then I had just lost my cousin...and then the incompetent boobs 'misplaced' her body. Misplaces her body?! Can you believe that crap?!"

Black Swan smiles knowingly but says nothing over what she knows of Chloe's fate. That'll resolve itself in time...and be very, very amusing. She must remember to video it.

"I couldn't even give her a proper funeral and burial!" Lois rants, her grief and frustrations coming to the surface.

"So are you admitting you've misplaced your anger and that yes, your chasing of Superman is a personal vendetta, not a quest for the truth?"

Lois stops, conflicting emotions flickering across her face.

"I won't stop you pursuing him Lois but I want it to be for the right reasons. If it's a personal vendetta then the result of whatever story you write will be coloured by your feelings. A good reporter has to be objective, present facts. All I have done by bringing you here is present you an opportunity to think without distraction. Perhaps you do need more time. Yes, I think you do," Black Swan decides. "Not just to think over what I said about Superman but as a chance to grieve over your cousin. Something you're struggling to do. Another week," she chooses the appropriate time scale. "I'll give you another week to come up with answers to my questions. Toodle-oo!"

Lois snaps out of her stupor. "What!" she exclaims. "No! Wait!" she cries and leaps but it's too late as Black Swan vanishes into one of her portals with a cheery wave. Lois eats sand...again. "God dammit!" she swears and slams her fists into the sand.

Lois pushes herself back to her feet, pissed as hell...at both that bitch and herself to a degree. She had a way out right there and she blew it. She kicks at the sand in annoyance and turns back round to return to her spot by the fire...only to be surprised by the appearance of boxes of food and bottles of water. There's a note. Lois picks up and reads it.

'You made some progress today so here's a reward.

See you in a week.

The Black Swan.'

"Yeah and in a week I'll be ready for ya, bitch," Lois vows as she scrunches the paper into a ball, wishing she could the same to that woman.


At the Institute...

"And how are you this evening Ms Willis?" the Professor queries as he makes his daily attempt to try and reach Live Wire. Yes, she was still in her cell, being obstinate and uncooperative. Though one thing Charles had noticed is that Clark was correct. Denying her access to her powers and any source of electricity she had seemed to become calmer and more rational as time had passed. Just can't do anything about the stubbornness or perhaps her pride in not wanting to admit she requires help.

"I'm in a cell," is her whiny response from where she sits on her bed. "And I don't get no tv nor radio! Nor beer!" she complains. "You know no beer and no tv make Live Wire something something," she quotes the Simpsons.

"I do believe Hank lets you listen to the radio during the day but if you mean one in your cell I'm sorry and will have to refuse. Clearly part of the issues we face involves the effect electrical energy has on you. Until you're willing to talk to me we can't allow any digital or electronic devices of any kind. Until then you'll have to simply do with books instead."

"Talk about what?!" she asks, exasperated.

"Anything you like," Charles offers. As a start he'll let her choose the subjects and if he can get her to talk and gain a little trust between them only then will he move the topic onto areas he wants to.

Leslie snorts. "You want to know about my crappy childhood, psychoanalyse me, that it?"

"If that's what you want," Charles humours her.

"Well tough!" she snorts, sticking her tongue out childishly. "As matter of fact I had a great childhood!" she claims.

"You do recall I'm psychic, yes? I know which version of that is the lie," he reminds her.

Leslie folds her arms across her chest and launches into a staring contest.

Which version is the lie? Neither actually. Charles gets the impression her childhood was somewhere in between. Had its good and bad moments but recall what Clark pointed out. She's loud and over-opinionated. She has a need to shout and a want to be heard. That has to come from somewhere. Perhaps a feeling that if she doesn't shout why would anyone listen to her. Despite appearance to the contrary deep down she's insecure.

"When do I get out of here?" she demands to know.

"When you agree to let me help you," Charles repeats something he has said to her several times.

"There's nothing wrong with me!" she insists.

"If that's so then please tell me what happened between you and SHIELD?" Charles asks her, knowing she can't remember. The gaps in her memory alone are reason enough she needs to be here. Let alone the fact Charles isn't convinced she can make rational choices.

He gets a silent glare in return for that.

"Don't you want to know?" Charles is curious. "I know it can't be a comfortable thought for you, having gaps in your memories, not knowing what transpired to you. I can help you but you have to want to be helped Ms Willis. Technically I could force you, I won't lie about that but we both know I won't."

Her gaze shifts away from his. She's uncertain...worried even about what it is she can't recall.

"Whatever it is that happened Ms Willis rest assured I'll be here to help you through it," he promises, trying to reassure her, get her trust. "I think perhaps you need more time to think," Charles is getting the feeling he isn't going to make any progress tonight. He turns to leave.

"Leslie," she mutters.

Charles stops and turns his head. "What?" he asks.

"If we're going to talk stop calling me Ms Willis. Makes me sound old," she complains. "Call me Leslie."

Charles turns back round to face her. "Leslie then," he accepts...and it seems he was mistaken. Perhaps she isn't done for tonight. "So what is it you wish to talk about?"

She starts wringing her hands in her lap...a gesture of nervousness. That's new from her.

Charles locks his hands together in his lap and waits. Eventually she will begin to talk...on nothing particularly deep or insightful but she's talking to him. It's a beginning.


"How's your friend?" Illyana asks Clark as he finds her sitting on his bed. His best guess would be she's just back from Limbo.

Clark know she means Andrea whom Clark was checking up on. He's also pleased to see her taking an interest. Might not seem like much but for Yana that's progress. "Fine. So far it seems like the serum has succeeded in curing her," he answers.

"That's...good," she decides to say after a momentary pause to choose the correct word.

"Yes, it is," Clark confirms. "And how are you doing?" he asks. "Feeling calmer?"

"I suppose," Illyana slightly hedges it.

"I don't want to sound like I'm repeating myself but all this is going to take time and I still hold to my belief that you having friends will be good for you."

"Uh huh," Illyana says, not sounding all that convinced. After all one day any friend she might have would surely have to learn who and what she truly is...and then, if they had any sense, they'd run as far away as possible. Something Clark won't do but as she has often said he's an idiot. He's her idiot and she couldn't bear it not to be with him. So as you can see she's still a contradictory mess.

Clark kneels down in front of his girlfriend and lovingly brushes her hair back. "Thank you for all your help this last week," he says. "I do appreciate it."

"As do I," she says softly in return. His help in putting up with her darker half as she calmed down.

Clark leans forward and brushes a light kiss over her lips while softly cupping her cheek and stroking her skin with his right hand. "You know Andrea tried to pull the old seduction routine on me when she was all vamped up," he mentions.

Illyana cocks her head slightly. "And did she get anywhere?"

"Of course not," Clark scoffs in dismissal. "How could she when I have the master of seduction as my girlfriend," he teases warmly, glint in his eye.

Illyana chuckles hardily at that. Clark's still the only one who can make her laugh. Not that she has figured out how he does it. She wraps her arms around him and kisses him, which he returns in kind. It's so strange. By comparison to Clark she's really quite petite...but the fact he is so much bigger makes her feel like she is wrapped in a warm, safe cocoon when his arms go around her. It's a feeling she hasn't experienced in a long time and one she now relishes. Moans escape her throat as he works his magic. These are the moments when her doubts over their relationship are washed away and she couldn't imagine not having this. These are the moments she just allows herself to give in to her feelings. Right now there is nowhere she'd rather be and no-one she'd rather be with.

Of course its moments like this neither are paying much attention to their surroundings or the certain blond haired speedster whose room this also is who just stopped short of the door which is open a crack. Bart stares wide-eyed...not at his friend making out with his girlfriend but at the long red tail wrapped around Clark's waist which following it back is clearly attached to Illyana.

It leaves Bart asking the blatantly obvious question. 'Since when does she have a tail?'


Author's Note: Like you're surprised Brainiac was behind it all. It's rather obvious it would be. I did consider letting Lois return to the world this chapter but decided another week at least will do her good. We'll probably revisit her at the end of the next arc. And a step forward for Leslie, a small one at the very least. It's going to be a bit of a theme until I reveal the whole truth that people start really picking up on the oddness that is Illyana starting with Bart of all people. Thanks to everyone who wrote reviews. Next up; (as if you can't get it from the silver and black rock Brainiac has) Splinter.