Author's Note: This is an AU and is a mix of a little bit of the Smallville TV show with the graphic novel series 52, where Jimmy is still alive. In this story, an old enemy of Jimmy's comes back to haunt him (he was killed off in the show, but I liked the person as a character so I brought him back for this) and Lois Lane is modeled after Erica Durance's portrayal in Smallville, because in my eyes at least, she makes the perfect Lois Lane to Tom's Clark Kent. Clark won't really be in this story much, save for the end, because I wanted this story to focus on Lois and Jimmy's friendship, and how the two friends manage to get themselves out of a bind without the Man of Steel's help.
Week One, Day One of the 52 Week Crisis
It was still raining as Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen walked down the sidewalk in a less desirable part of Metropolis. The sunset was now long gone, leaving the duo with only a starless sky. Puffs of gray clouds had swooped into the air like an armed patrol and had surrounded the moon from all sides. There was nothing more that it could do but sit and wait for itself to be completely engulfed by its attackers. Lois glanced upwards. The young reporter took in a moment to survey night life in the city. Beyond the horizon, the sun illuminated the shimmering haze of pollution. In the far distance, the silhouette of the skyline pierced through the warm glow like a jagged mountain ridge. Millions of lights caused the dense mass of skyscrapers glitter. People were needle points and cars were blood cells flowing through the veins of the city.
Despite the time, the hustle and bustle never came to a halt. The city's residents were off for a movie or to chill out in a smoky jazz bar downtown. Lois furrowed her brow into a frown and tossed her long wavy dark chocolate locks over her shoulders and glanced down at her outfit, hoping it didn't make her a target for thieves and pickpockets, who were known to frequent this part of town. It was nothing special, just her usual black pants, white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a black vest over top that and black slip on Sketchers with no laces on her feet, just in case she needed to make a run for it.
She caught sight of her reflection in a shop window and frowned. Lois was surprised at how cross her expression was, but then again, she didn't fault herself for it. It felt like they'd been walking for hours, and though her shoes were quite comfortable and her feet up to the task, the rest of her body screamed for relief.
Lois tossed her black square canvas utilitarian messenger bag, just big enough for her essentials: wallet, lipstick, Chapstick, a pen and pad for interviews, and in rare occasions, her iPad for if she was ever stuck on the transit bus downtown, over her shoulder, and turned towards Jimmy. "Get a move on, Olsen," she breathed. "We're late." She pulled out her phone from her pants pocket to check for messages from her contact, who said he'd meet them at the little diner on the corner of 10th and Main in fifteen minutes. Her contact claimed he had information for her that would put this creep behind bars for good, who was going around killing people at night.
The Daily Planet's top reporter could not help but feel a stab of fear prick at her heart, though truth be told, it was a bit exciting, wasn't it? Catching a killer...
Jimmy, who was at least thirty paces behind her, was panting and heaving to catch his breath, seemingly struggling under the added weight of his camera bag.
"We've…been walking…for hours, Lane," he managed to gasp out, clutching at his side weakly, reaching up and brushing his bangs out of the way. "Can't we take a break? Or at least you could tell me why we couldn't take a damn taxi? Surely, your contact over at the Inquisitor will...understand if we're...late in meeting him," he panted. The photographer and sometimes who acted as her assistant was dragging his feet, shuffling his feet as he walked and carefully tending to the camera he wore on its strap around his neck. It did not escape Lois's attention he was troubled.
Lois heaved a heavy sigh and tucked a lock of wavy hair behind her ear. She paused. "I guess we can take a break. We've been walking for at least an hour."
"Why couldn't we have just called a cab?" complained Jimmy, breathing a sigh of relief and slumping his shoulders as he collapsed on a nearby bus bench. "Lo?"
"Because just take a look out here," protested Lois, raising her hand and pointing a finger towards the death and destruction in the streets. "Heroes, supervillains, thrown in the wrath of God Himself coming down. I've been to Gotham, Olsen, I've seen it all. Earthquakes, plagues, poison in the reservoir, and I swear to God I thought it was the end of the world last night, Jimmy! We're lucky to be alive right now, when so many others are missing or dead!"
The reporter's gaze fell on the crumpled remains of what used to be a school and her face fell. "This used to an elementary school. We don't know how many lived through this or if there are even any still left alive, but they need all the help they can get. We're going to miss this if we don't stay one step ahead of the others."
"They?" Jimmy asked, quirking a brow Lois's way. "Who's 'they,' Lois?"
"Superman, Steel, Supergirl, anyone we can think of who might still be alive," she breathed, cringing and sharply averting her gaze so Olsen wouldn't see her brow furrow in a worried sort of frown. Clark had lost his powers last night.
There was no telling when or if he would 'recharge' and get his abilities back, and there were rumors running rampant in Gotham and Bludhaven that Batman had seemingly disappeared, Wonder Woman was nowhere to be found.
"If they really are gone," breathed Lois, feeling a new surge of determination course through her bloodstream, boiling it until it was almost red-hot and fiery, "then it's up to us to help save the world. C'mon, Olsen, this story won't write itself." She dipped into her bag and pulled out a granola bar, tossing it to him. "Here," she chuckled, catching the stupefied look on her assistant's face. "Eat that if you're hungry, though that camera bag is big enough, Jimbo, why don't you start keeping some appropriate snacks in there to eat on the road, huh?"
Jimmy scrunched his nose and made a face as he ripped open the wrapper and tore a chunk of the chocolate chip granola bar off with his teeth. "I'm not having food around my camera, Miss Lane, are you short of a marble?" he growled.
Lois felt the grin twitch at the corners of her lips as she swiped the remaining half of the granola bar she had so graciously given him out of Olsen's hands and took a bite. She took her time chewing and swallowing before answering, handing back the bar to Jimmy, who was looking thoroughly annoyed.
"Fine," she chirped happily, taking one last swig of her water bottle before chucking it into a nearby recycle bin as she pulled her cell phone out of her pants pocket and plunked into her bag and zipped it up securely, feeling her fingers curl into a protective fist over her bag as her eyes darted around nervously.
There was a small part of her that wished she would have asked Clark to come with her, but Lois knew her husband perhaps better than anyone else, and if the Man of Steel (or formerly, she guessed in this case considering he was stripped of his abilities) knew what she and Jimmy were doing, pursuing a lead on a serial killer stalking the streets of Metropolis, he would most assuredly not allow it.
Jimmy's gaze darted nervously around the alleyway's corners, and he swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. "Still think we should have taken a cab," he grumbled, and he knew his words at hit their mark as well as the last vestiges of Lois Lane's patience as the beautiful reporter's head whiplashed around to meet his gaze, her dark brown eyes glowering at him, narrowing to merely slits.
"One more word, Jimbo, and I'll duct tape your mouth shut," she warned, stifling a low growl in the back of her throat as she tapped a purple-manicured finger towards her bag, and Jimmy swallowed and met Lois Lane's gaze.
The young photographer briefly wondered what all Lois kept in that bag.
"Yes, Miss Lane," he mumbled, bowing his head in submission. "Sorry."
"Good." Lois gave a curt little nod, turning swiftly on her heel, so Jimmy wouldn't see the beginnings of a smile form on her face. "It's not much further and—" She had been about to say something else to Jimmy, when she even more, when she felt a strong hand, definitely a man's hand, grip onto her shoulder and pull at her, tugging her backwards from behind her spot on the sidewalk, which was uneven and cracked in parts, causing her to falter in her footing.
"Hello, sweetheart," came an unfamiliar man's voice, which sounded rough and coarse.
"HEY!" she shouted, twisting slightly, and with a surprised and pained wince, turned to look her attacker in the eye, and almost tripped out of her black Sketchers shoe, which would have been a first for the reporter. Lois probably would have fallen to the ground were it not for the man's strong black gloved hand still gripping tightly onto her upper arms.
"What do you think you're doing, you creep?" she shouted, pouting as she looked up at the man who had grabbed her. It was too dark to make out his features in this dark light, but as he moved underneath a streetlamp which flickered constantly, Lois felt a tremor of fear travel down her spine and a wash of cold come over her entire body, as though she'd been doused in ice water. "Oh."
Her voice came out as a low breathy squeak. "Wh—what is this?" In front of Lois was a deranged looking man with two-day stubble gracing his jawline and chin. He had the look of a man who once had muscles, broad over the back and thick in the neck, though now he was entirely too thin, his cheekbones sunken in and hollow, giving him an emaciated look. His tuft of light brown hair, similar to Jimmy's, was wild, and seemed to have a mind of its own, though his bangs hung limp and straight in his eyes. Whoever the stranger was, he was young, seemingly in his late thirties, early forties.
But it was his eyes that scared Lois the most. Lois looked into his eyes, but it was like nothing was there to behold. An endless depth of ink, sorrow, and pain. She could not see whites of his eyes nor the vessels that flowed through them. They were depths of Tartarus holding a thousand souls yet there were none to be seen. She gulped and swallowed past the lump forming in her throat that threatened to close off her passageways.
She knew she shouldn't be staring at him like this, but she felt safe to look when he half-turned away, seemingly fixated on Jimmy now. The lumberjack shirt he wore was loose and seemed to cling to his thin frame in parts and absolutely hang off him in others, which she found odd. Her eyes popped as he glanced back to Lois, and she shivered as an unnaturally wide grin began to form, curling the edges of his lips upwards. White knuckles from clenching her fist too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, her hunched form exuded an animosity that was like acid - burning, slicing, potent. Her face was red with suppressed rage, and when this man who had so rudely snatched her even set a finger on her shoulder, she swung around and mentally snapped, screaming at the man.
"Who the hell do you think you are, Frankenstein?" bellowed Lois, balling her hands, which hung loosely at her sides and were shaking badly, into fists. "Keep your grubby hands to yourself, you sorry sack of shit?" she hollered. "God! I'm calling the police!" she shouted, dipping with her free hand into her purse, rummaging for her cell phone, feeling her jaw go rooted.
If ever there was a time when she wished she kept her phone out more often, this was definitely one of those times. Clark was always chastising her for not being more 'available' whenever he tried to call, but she'd had plenty a good snooping session while grabbing a story ruined by a phone call. But if there was ever a time when her cell phone would come in handy, now was that time.
They needed help…
"Lois…" called out Jimmy, though it came out as more of a warning shout.
The strangely handsome man in the plaid shirt continued that creepy grin of his, seeming unfazed by the young brunette woman's little outburst. As if what he was doing were the most natural thing in the word, he swatted her arm away from her bag hard enough to bruise, and his hand came up to grip her delicate birdlike wrist in his grasp and squeezed. She let out a tiny cry of pain that was almost inaudible but fell silent. Maybe staying silent would be her best chance for walking away from this alive. If she didn't make any noise, then they both might live. If she stayed quiet and just didn't cause a scene, did whatever the hell he wanted. If there was one thing Lois had learned over the years, it was that her mouth and temper combined could get her into a hell of a lot of trouble.
Poor Lois had to bite her tongue and felt the blood welling and settling on her tongue as she bit back over a thousand retorts she wanted to scream at this man.
Most of them were highly inappropriate, but she didn't give a damn anymore.
"What's a pretty little slip of a thing like you doing out in the cold dark night, huh?" he crooned throatily, reaching up a strong, hairy hand to allow his hand to drift over the column of her throat. "Mustn't wander too far…"
Lois decided right then and there that whoever this man was, she didn't like the way he talked. He was clearly mocking her, but the intonations of his voice suggested almost a childlike curiosity, the way he genuflected and seemed to talk animatedly with his hands, every once in a while, the young woman would notice the stranger shoot Jimmy Olsen an utter look of hate.
Jimmy, meanwhile, had seemingly frozen in fear, his face ashen and beads of sweat forming on his brow, as his dark eyes darted nervously from the attacker towards Lois's. "Just—don't hurt her, man," he pleaded, desperate.
But the attacker's gaze had wandered back towards Lois, who had fallen silent and was regarding the stranger in the blue and red plaid shirt with something akin to fear and trepidation in her dark brown eyes. "It's not safe for you to be out alone, especially not a little girl like you, sweetness," he continued, still continuing his infuriating behavior of caressing her cheek, and Lois trembled, hating to admit that, unwanted though it was, it strangely felt nice.
The skin of his palm was smooth. The man glanced down at Lois's small little black square canvas messenger bag slung over her shoulder. It definitely wasn't fancy, it was more utilitarian in style, and sometimes the other women in the office back at The Daily Planet picked on her for it, given it wasn't leather like theirs, or expensive designer brands, but Lois was out in the field often, it made sense for her to carry this one. It was mostly water-resistant in inclement weather and had plenty of pockets and zippers to hold all her things, and a key ring on the outside front pocket which she had clipped a mini flashlight. "Whatcha got in your bag, sweetheart?" he growled, and his hand drifted downward from the caressing of the column of her pale throat and towards her shoulder bag. "Let's take a look, shall we, honey?"
His other hand, the other still clasping onto her throat, drifted towards Lois's shoulder and made a move, as if to grab her bag off her shoulder.
"No way, creep! Back off right now if you know what's good for you!" cried Lois, instinctively curling her fingers into a fist over the straps of her purse, her favorite out of the two that she did own. The other bag she owned at home was a coffee brown color, just like the one she carried now that she used for traveling. Her sister had given it to her for her birthday a few months ago. She was reluctant to part with it, and Lois was going to be damned if she let his grubby sticky sausage fingers all over it. "Get the hell away from me! Get the hell out of here right now or I'm calling the cops!"
"Lois!" shouted Jimmy, though he sounded more fearful than angry. "Don't do this, just—just give him the purse. I'll buy you another one, Lois. Swear!"
Burning rage hissed through Lois's body like deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence. It was like a volcano erupting; fury sweeping off her like ferocious waves. The wrath consumed like, engulfing her moralities and destroying the boundaries of loyalty.
"No way, Olsen!" she shouted, turning her wrath onto Jimmy, completely ignoring the stranger, whose face had flushed and was looking annoyed at the interruption. If possible, her fingers turned white with the effort to hang onto her purse for that millisecond longer as she felt the man begin to tug on the straps. "You know what this bag means to me, Jimmy, my sister gave it to me! No way in Hell am I ever giving it up, and not to him!"
"Lois!" cried Jimmy, sounding thoroughly fed up and exasperated, not to mention panicked at their situation. "Just give him the damn bag! Your wallet, money, whatever he asks for! Your purse isn't worth your life, Lois."
But it was. Though Jimmy could never understand it. Lois opened her mouth to retort hotly and could only manage a breathy little squeak as the man's grip tightened on her left wrist and she was violently dragged into an alleyway and shoved up against a cold red brick wall. She let out a pained gasp of surprise and whimpered, clenching her eyes shut, not wanting to see whatever came next.
"You're going to let go of the bag now, sweetheart," the man's voice growled, whispering it into the shell of her ear. The light in this place was entirely too dim, and she could barely see the attacker, though his black eyes almost seemed to glow yellow now, which frightened her. What the hell are you, guy? She thought wildly, swallowing hard past the lump in her throat. Not human…
His request came again this time, urgent, harder. "Let go of the bag. Do I need to say it a second time? I hate saying it a second time..." he growled threateningly.
Lois violently shook her head, and he let out a low warning growl, shoving her up against the wall even harder. The young woman winced as he did so, feeling a muscle pull in her back as the man continued. The ache was dull, as if some lazy torturer was standing right behind her, only applying enough pressure to be an annoyance, though in Lois's case, her assailant was in front of her, not behind.
The pain just sat there, just to the side of the right shoulder blade toward the spine. Lois could imagine it would be like this lying on a large glass marble; perhaps at first it would be pleasant yet soon it would be just like this pain of hers. "Go to hell!" She didn't know where that had come from, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. If this man wanted a fight, then she sure as hell would give him one. She didn't intend to go quietly.
"Feisty little thing, aren't you?" he complimented, reaching up a hand to absentmindedly tuck a wisp of her dark hair back into place. "I see why Olsen likes you..."
Lois froze. This man...knew who they were? But how? She was fairly certain she'd never met this guy before in her life, so that could only mean...
"Jimmy?" she breathed, her voice barely audible and slightly less than a whisper. "You know this guy?"
Jimmy swallowed and said nothing, and he shook his head, confused. The man's features were shrouded in shadow, too dark for Olsen to make out any details of his face from this distance.
Lois flinched at the intimacy and surprising gentleness of the gesture. She would have almost preferred it if the man would just hit her, do whatever it was that he seemed to want to do to her, and let them go. "Lois!" came Jimmy's voice from behind, though he sounded distant, muffled, like he was almost a football field away. Lois could hear his footfalls approaching from behind, though she wasn't sure what Olsen could do in order to help her out of the situation. All he had on him was a pocketknife. Lois was shoved up against a wall, and panic was threatening to consume her. She strained her vocals, but nothing came out, still she screamed, hoping someone—anyone—would hear her and come to help.
Suddenly, her body wracked with raw sobs and she shook like a leaf. Lois wasn't used to showing emotions like this, but given the taxing events of last night and how the entire world was literally on fire with everything in ruins like some kind of horrible apocalypse, millions dead, and God knew how many more missing and unaccounted for, and now the world's superheros were quite literally powerless to do anything to help them, she felt that the onset of this sudden panic attack given her current predicament was warranted. Fright consumed every cell in her body, swelling them with terror. With every second she practically felt the rise of her blood pressure, but she knew that this was the least of her worries.
"Please," she whimpered, lifting her gaze slightly to meet his eyes, what little of the man's expression she could see there. "I'll—I'll give you whatever you want. Money? You want my money? I—it's in my wallet, just take it and leave us alone," Lois sobbed. "Take my bag, just…go away and leave us alone." She felt her ironclad grip on the strap of her purse slacken, and the man noticed it with some amusement in his cold, black, lifeless eyes and laughed.
"Oh, sweetheart," he throatily crooned. "It never was about the money. I don't want your money," he laughed, as if she had just told him a joke. "It's you that I want, love," he breathed, and then Lois knew she was in serious trouble.
"If you think I'm going to—" she started to retort violently but was cut off. A flash of silver danced across the front of her vision as the knife sat precariously on her skin, soft enough to not pierce her skin, but hard enough to enforce the stranger's intended message. The harsh metal should have been cold and raw against the exposed skin of the column of her throat, but Lois's numb body could not feel anything at all right now. Her throat held in a silver grasp, and all she could do was stare lifelessly at the dark black eyes held the blade and a terrifying coldness she'd never seen before. Trembling, ignoring Jimmy's shouts and screams behind her, she tipped her chin up into the sharpened edge, tempting this creep to end her anguish, almost half hoping that he would just do it, and end all this crap. A small stream of blood trickled from the feeble cut Lois could not feel, he did not flinch or remove his eyes from hers, a cruel smile stretched out across gaunt features. Her frozen heart shifted at the sight of his merciless gaze, her legs almost failing beneath her. His steadfast grip on the polished weapon shifted, causing more crimson liquid to flow from the raw wound he had inflicted. "You're going to do what I say, and stay quiet," he hissed.
Lois nodded mutely, biting her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood. Strong hands pushed her into the wall in front of her. It stung and sent swells of pain throughout her body. "LOIS!" screamed Jimmy, and the sound of shuffling reached her eardrums, and the sound of a pained yelp told her everything she needed to know: that the man had sent him sprawling back.
A chin rested on Lois's shoulder, and the man was breathing heavily into her ear. She opened her mouth to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, and if he didn't want charges pressed against him when she called the cops, then he'd get the hell out of here right now, and that was when the stranger's lips clamped down on her ear, piercing right through her industrial piercing in her right ear, which she had gotten done only a month ago, and the holes were still tender, and what he was doing really hurt. She let out a heart-wrenching scream and felt tears gather in the corner of her eyes. His lips were light at first, and then they bit down harder. Lois squirmed against the wall, but that only made the man's grip tighten. The teeth turned into a tongue, which felt way too much like a slimy eel trying to worm its way places where it did not belong, and Lois shivered. It slid over the rim of Lois's now-bleeding ear and caused her to cry out a bit. Two hands slid down her sides on landed on her waist, just above the waistline of her black work pants she'd bought just last week from Kohl's during a shopping trip with Chloe. She didn't know what to do. She hoped this was a cruel joke, a horrible nightmare, a side effect of her anxiety medication she was on. The lips moved down to her neck and nipped at the tender skin there. Lois knew that this would be bad. Her skin bruised so easily; she knew it would leave a mark. It seemed like her captor did too and let out a growl. "Stay. Still."
It was not a request. It was a command, one she would be foolish to disobey.
Lois opened her mouth to scream, but the noise was rendered to a breathless squeak as she felt something hard strike the back of her head, and a wetness gathered at the back of her skull, hot, wet, and sticky. She knew she would faint when her stomach gave out. It felt like her innards were being replaced by some kind of black hole. Then nausea crept from her abdomen to her head and the world went black and she knew no more. She was still alive, as the stranger surmised, and felt for a pulse.
"YOU BASTARD! I'LL—I'LL KILL YOU! LET HER GO!" screamed Jimmy, who had been rendered immobile, and lay sprawled near a pair of scattered garbage cans like the trash he was.
The stranger felt his lips curl into a sneer and as he turned to regard Jimmy Olsen in the fading light of the flickering streetlight, which gave the younger man a haunted look, his pale skin seeming amber under the yellow light. "Remember me, Jimmy Boy?" the man asked, his voice rising an octave. "Surely you must…" the stranger throatily crooned, and Jimmy froze.
He watched, horrified, as the mugger in the red and blue plaid shirt's form flickered and waved, like a distortion, a horrible tick of the light, and Jimmy felt his very heart plummet to the bottom of his stomach. He couldn't believe it.
"You," Jimmy breathed, hardly daring to believe his eyes. "No way…"
Davis Bloome grinned. "Me. Thought you could get rid of me. I don't think so," he answered simply, almost giddy. "You know, I was going to see if I could track down your old girlfriend Chloe again, but I can see your new friend Miss Lane will do just as nicely," he growled. "I've been just dying to see you, Jimmy," he grinned. Then, just as quickly as his playful grin had come, it faltered and vanished, and his lips pursed into a thin, pencil-straight line as he gathered the unconscious form of Lois Lane into his arms and glanced down at her.
It was a moment before the man spoke again, and Jimmy was startled. Davis's sharp profile had turned to the side, still carrying Lois in his arms, and for a moment, Jimmy thought he almost looked…dare he even think this next thought? Normal. Olsen hesitated, biting his bottom lip, having eyes only for Lois. Lois, aside from her looks and personality and hair color, was like Chloe in so many ways, it was most assuredly not healthy, what Jimmy was doing to himself. But she was there. When the pressure of his day was inside him, not like a tangled knot but more like a ticking bomb, he needed to let it explode somewhere safe. He needed to go somewhere where it couldn't do lasting damage, and that was why he had Lois. That's why she had him.
Whenever he needed to vent, she called him, and she knew what was coming. It wasn't an exchange, not in the same session. He got to yell his fucking lungs out and be a vengeful, crass, asshole of fury and she would sip her glass of wine and nod in all the right places, content to listen until Jimmy Olsen said his piece.
It would only be whenever he would pick up his own bottle of Corona that Lois would ask him if he was ready for her perspective, and if he was, he would keep drinking, otherwise the shouting would start all over again. Her job was to tell Jimmy how she thought the other side likely felt in the stories he relayed to her, what fears and insecurities may have motivated them, tone Jimmy's temper down rather than egg him on to the point of no return. Then he could go back to his apartment and talk things through. Sometimes, Lois was right, sometimes she would be way off, but he couldn't very well talk to anyone else whenever he needed to vent like that. No one deserved that. And Lois was just the same. She would call Jimmy up, he went, she vented, and he listened. Maybe that's why he liked her, why he had agreed to stay on at the Planet as her assistant. Jimmy didn't know, but it worked for the two of them. He didn't gossip. No one knew his secrets or Lois's but for the two of them. He didn't know, sometimes he just felt like getting that rage was the best thing he could do.
Davis Bloome snorted, repressing the urge to roll his eyes at the man's expression. One glance over at Olsen and then back down at the unconscious tiny brunette renowned reporter in his arms was more than enough for Davis Bloome. "I thought so," he added meanly, feeling his lips curl into a twisted sneer. "You only stay around her because she reminds you of Chloe." Davis Bloome cackled in glee at seeing the stupefied look on Olsen's face as he shifted the girl in his arms, her head lolling backwards, supported by the crook of his elbow as he held her gently. "Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy," he sighed, his usual tone beginning to creep back into his voice, losing all traces of seriousness that had been there before.
He's beginning to sound like himself again, Jimmy thought bitterly. Davis Bloome let out an understated little sigh, his gaze flickering from Jimmy to Lois often. "Whatever are we going to do with you, Olsen? Or with her…You all are presenting quite the…problem for me."
"Just…just let her go," pleaded Jimmy, raising both his hands above his head, showing the man that he meant Davis no harm. "Let her go, and I swear to God, we won't call the cops. We can pretend this never happened, Davis, but you gotta let her go. Now." His words sounded firm, though his voice trembled and lacked the conviction to sell the argument that Jimmy really wanted to make.
But he had to try. If he did nothing to save Lois, then Clark would kill him.
"And?" he drawled lazily, swiveling his head to the left to look at Jimmy. "What, then? If I let both of them go, I get what, exactly? Hmm? Nothing."
"Take me," he offered suddenly, as the wild, bold idea struck him. Jimmy said this, but his voice lacked the conviction he really needed to sell the argument he wanted to make. "If I go with you, you need to let Lois Lane go."
The man's responding smirk made Jimmy sick with dread, and he clucked his tongue in mock disappointment and shook his head, as if he were disappointed in Jimmy Olsen's answer. "No."
That was the breaking point of Olsen's patience with this creep. "What do you want?" Jimmy cringed as he heard the crack in his voice but fought it back down and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes, briny, and stinging his vision, but he blinked them back. "Please." Let her go, is what he wanted to say, but couldn't force his mouth to form the words he so desperately wanted to scream at the top of his lungs.
He was not surprised when Davis turned his wrathful gaze on him. "It's quite a shame I have to ruin her face and make her one ugly whore," he confessed, letting out a heavy sigh and almost sounding bored as he reached up a surprisingly tender hand and brushed a lock of Lois's dark hair away from her face. "Almost," he added, with a wicked sneer.
"SCREW YOU!" Jimmy bellowed, with as much strength as his lungs could muster, in the hopes that someone would hear his shouts of distress. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
But this was Metropolis. The cops wouldn't come unless there was a murder, or bombing, or something equally catastrophic, and with the entire world devastated over the events that had happened last night, and the world still mourning the loss of Superboy, well…Jimmy knew help wasn't coming at all.
"I want you to suffer, to feel what I feel," Davis Bloome growled, and before Jimmy could so much as scream, the man lunged forward, his form twisting yet again and warping into something monstrous, still keeping Lois's unconscious figure clutched tightly in his arms, though as he made a grab for Jimmy, he slung the young woman over his shoulder as though she weighed little more than a sack of potatoes, which, to Davis Bloome, she probably did, Jimmy wondered briefly.
A string of curses unraveled from his tongue, like yarn unfurling, as Davis's lean, towering form advanced. Jimmy opened his mouth to scream for help, but he could hear nothing all was silenced, the hisses of Davis Bloome, the light moan that escaped from Lois's lips, unconscious though she was, that tiny groan she gave off let Jimmy know she was still alive, which gave him a great sense of relief, all inaudible. All he could do was feel.
Feel the cold ground pressed against his form, the heat from the pain, and the rhythm of the drum that was his heartbeat that would signal his end. He looked upward into the stars. Clark is going to kill me, thought Jimmy, suppressing a moan. He closed his eyes as he felt a searing pain, and his world faded to black.