The decision should be a surprise. It isn't. The unnatural quietness was broken at the very end, and now there are voices everywhere. Angry ones, desperate ones, some trying to keep order, some triumphant. The doors are opened, and Superman can already see the scrawled signs of protesters in the air. Reporters line the blockade. He looks through the group, ignoring the flashes of cameras and shouted questions, and there she is. Lois. In a pink dress. Holding a pencil so hard it will snap in a moment. The fibers are stressed, already pulling. She meets his eyes, and her face is bleak; it looks like a picture. White face, wide eyes. She's been crying.
He feels the professional mask start to slip off his face. He doesn't know what it will reveal. Anguish? Terror? Fury? Whatever it is, they don't need to see. He pulls his eyes away. Of course Lois is here. He wishes he could be standing beside her. Tunes out everything else, listens to her heartbeat, her breathing, tries to inhale her smell, but too many other things get in the way. He doesn't know if he can make it through this. When he steps up to the podium, holds the edge carefully in his hand so he won't snap it, and realizes they're shaking. He takes a deep breath and stills them. Looks out blankly over the crowd.
For a moment, he almost says something he'd regret. He takes another breath. Gives the speech he'd prepared for this eventuality. The Justice League will abide by this decision. Nothing to worry about. You won't be facing a war. I won't tear the world apart like that.
I could.
When he steps aside, one of the president's aides accosts him. "Excuse me, Superman, can we have a moment?"
He stares. There must be something in his expression besides the numbness that he feels, or maybe that's enough, because the man steps back and swallows, his heart beating fast, sweat glands moving into overdrive. He's scared. Good.
But he stands, still waiting for an answer, and finally Superman nods, following the line of dark-clad figures back into the building. Their steps echo on the floor. Nobody speaks. For some reason the walls are closer than they were before, the ceiling lower, and he stares through it all.
When he gets into the room, the skeleton of the president stands up. "Superman," it says. "I'm glad you could spare a moment."
He tries not to look through people when he's talking to them. Right now he doesn't care.
"I can't stay long," he says politely, watching the jaw move up and down.
We're worried about the reaction, the skeleton says. You saw what's happening already. We need to keep order.
"Of course. I already said I would stand by the decision."
"Yes. The Justice League. But how many people will abide by that? How many rogue agents are we going to have to worry about?"
"In America?" He tries to calculate. "Maybe seventy members." It's a conservative estimate.
The jaw comes up. A flicker, and the muscles are tightening around his mouth. The skin around his eyes pulled. "Seventy. And is there anything you can do about that?"
A dip, as though he stepped off the edge of a cliff onto thin air. The moment before he realizes he can fly. The moment when he realizes he can't. "I can make a list of the most likely candidates," he says. The back of his mouth is sour. He needs to leave, or he's going to destroy something. Who would trust Superman then? He could always say he was mind controlled.
The president gives him a sidelong glance. Superman wonders why. Then he realizes his mouth is pulled into a tight grin. He relaxes his facial muscles, it can't be that much longer, the meeting's already been five minutes. He can feel a burning sensation behind his eyes. He really needs to get out before he burns a hole in the windows.
"Thank you. That's very helpful."
I'm so glad to be of help.
"Of course, these people… most of them have powers. How many men should we send after them? Is it really possible to make it a fair fight?"
please don't make me do this.
"It depends on the person."
"Mm." The head nods once. "For the safety of my own men, I'll have to have a kill order."
Superman blinks, and the room rushes in. "What?" he asks.
"Well, as you said, these people are dangerous. And if they stand against the decision, they're technically committing treason."
Something is scratching at the back of his throat. It feels like a creature, trying to pull itself out so it can shed his skin. He holds it back. "I see."
"Of course, if you agreed to work for us, we could send you after them. They're your people, I'm sure you'd be able to disable the threat without resorting to unnecessary force."
There's a deathly silence in the room. Somewhere in the city, a siren is going off. It pieces its way through.
"And how long would this agreement last?"
Another moment.
"I see."
"Think of yourself as a guarantee. You work for us, you can protect your friends. Every agreement needs an enforcer."
"Of course."
There's a moment of silence. He steps back.
"Of course, you'd be acting under the jurisdiction of the U.S. Government. You'd have to act only in situations that had been cleared for action. No more heroics." There's a jovial smile. It scrapes his eyes.
"Of course." He steps back again. "I'll get back to you," he says.
The smiles lessens. "All right. I hope you come to the right decision Superman, I really do. I wouldn't want to have you as an enemy."
You wouldn't stand a chance. Do you know how many alternate universes there are where I rule the world? I killed Lex Luthor in this very room.
He walks out slow enough for the guards to see him go.
.
.
.