[Metropolis City Hall, the next morning]
Councillor von Hutton brushed past the growing cohort of reporters and locked herself in her office. Metro P.D. just released news about her brother.
Clark walked through the entrance. "I just arrived. What's going on?"
"Late to the party, Mr. Kent?" a reporter from the Metropolis Journal inquired, "The cops just issued this." He handed Clark a copy of the press release.
'George von Hutton, of George's Deli, was assaulted outside his shop last night as he was about to close for the evening. No witnesses have come forward, but police are canvassing the surrounding businesses. He is reported to be in fair condition and his injuries are not life threatening ..."
"I wouldn't be surprised if that mobster Thorne is trying to send a message to city council," the Journal reporter remarked.
Clark stared at the press release in disbelief. Now he's done it. Lex has entered into a conspiracy with organized crime. From what Bruce has told me, Rupert Thorne is not a man to tangle with. And the hitman Mackenzie: his rap sheet reads like a season of The Sopranos. Extortion, drug trafficking, attempted murder. Not to mention that the feds suspect his involvement in the Metropolis D.A. hit.
All these years, I was confident that Lex knew that some lines should never be crossed. At least Lionel Luthor made no attempt to hide his ruthlessness. His hands are dirty with influence-peddling, backroom conspiracies with his buddies in Congress, shady links to the Russian mob. I believed Lex was above those schemes. His character - I was sure - was flawed, but not immoral.
One so-called friend is about to betray me. Chloe has her job to do. I realized that, even since our college days. She'll pursue what she sees as the truth. The cost this time is my fate.
My destiny. Bruce told me that, one day, he won't be hovering around me. Giving me advice. He's been at this hero-of-the-night routine for a few years now. To defend justice, he's had to bend the rules: conceal, deceive, and intimidate. The authorities don't necessarily approve of his methods. He knows the pitfalls.
"You know what to do," Bruce had answered during one of their training sessions, "When the time comes, you'll step up to the plate. Stay focused. Be your own person. I've cut ties with most of my friends - believing that they'd expose my weaknesses, or put themselves at risk by mere association. It's not a good life to lead, but I've made that choice. My choices don't have to be yours. You're a reporter. Use that power -- that access - to do good."
"But what if I mess up? People could get hurt." Clark had replied.
"Get up, dust yourself off, and continue. This life is not for the uncommitted. If you second-guess every decision that you make, you won't be able to help anyone. You have to want this. If you have doubts, you'd better not step onto the field."
Clark crumpled the press release and tossed it into the trash. If Lex has gone to bed with the mob, he's crossed the line. I trusted him. Placed my faith in him. The things I've said to Pete, Chloe ... my father. I said they were wrong, they didn't know Lex. Only I knew him so well ...
I could have stopped him. Back in Smallville, when he was vulnerable. I'm going to be betrayed again by another friend. Lex Luthor. It's not enough just to expose this mob conspiracy. The GCPD report! If Chloe connects the dots between the D.A. hit and Thorne, Lex' reputation will be harmed. We can't take anything from a man who has everything. His reputation - soiled as it is - is something even he can't buy.
If Chloe runs with the mob story, it'll be more than Lex's influence- peddling in the headlines. His own integrity will be put into question - whether or not the feds can pin conspiracy charges on him. Perception can be more important that reality. Of course, there are consequences. We'd destroy the redevelopment plan and likely ruin our Olympic chances. von Hutton has a point. None of that is worth the price we'd have to pay.
I've sold out my friends and family in Luthor's name for too long. That changes.
Today.
"Clark, do you have any idea where Lex is?" Lois tapped him on the shoulder. "His office called the Planet to cancel his interview with our editorial board."
"I don't know where he is," Clark shrugged. "I guess he has business to deal with."
"It's just odd," Lois replied, "Council is expected to vote on the redevelopment plan by week's end. I figured he wanted to tell his side of the story."
Clark's mind wandered. Chloe, what are doing right now? Writing the story that will ruin me, or remembering how we used to be so close. That's all I can count on - that you'll remember our friendship in Smallville. You have the GCPD report. You can wipe out Thorne and ram a stake through Lex Luthor's reputation. That story would certainly put her on an even level with Lois.
But my story ... the meteor boy from Smallville who can't be stopped ... that would launch her career into the stratosphere. I'm afraid of her determination.
I know I'm being selfish, but I hope she chooses to crucify the mob (and Lex) instead of me. She exposes me ... and god knows what happens then.
[The Orchid Gentlemen's Club, the city's west side]
A dozen Metro P.D. squad cars, two paddywagons and a pair of unmarked sedans screeched around the curb and into the club parking lot. The lunch hour crowd was already there, catching the first show.
A bouncer in a red bowtie tried to prevent them from entering. "Do you have a search warrant?" An officer ordered him to turn around, then frisked him for weapons. "A 9mm Glock automatic, eh? Thompson, run this guy's ID. I'd be curious if he's licensed to carry this!"
A detective pushed open the main door. Some patrons tried to flee, perhaps unaware that there were officers at every entrance.
"Where's Rupert Thorne?" Detective Reynolds demanded. In the rear, some officers were rounding up the customers, staff and 'entertainers'.
"This place is licensed. You got nothin' on this place!" the bartender insisted.
Chloe walked into the smoky room. "Success?"
The detective shook his head. "I figured he might be here for the 'grand opening'. Now if someone in here wants to be cooperative, maybe I won't let the vice squad shut this place down and charge you all with keeping a common bawdy house!"
The bartender spotted Chloe interviewing one of the officers. "It's you! You brought the heat down on us!" He moved forward, as some of the bouncers tried to restrain him. "Mr. Thorne don't like rats! Your number's up, missy!" He aimed his finger at her, pretending to fire.
You're busted, Detective Reynolds thought. "You just uttered a death threat, buddy. Book him." Half a dozen officers shoved aside the bouncers and handcuffed the bartender.
"So I guess you'll do the good cop-bad cop thing until the bartender sings?" Chloe asked.
The detective scratched his head. "Maybe. I doubt he knows much, other than the rumours he hears from the street. He's right though. Thorne hates 'rats', and I don't think the bartender wants to be one." He took Chloe aside. "What I'm worried about is the threat he made."
"I'm not concerned," Chloe stated, "he's just some punk trying to look tough in front of Thorne's boys."
"Rupert Thorne is not a man to cross," the detective argued, "I know that witnesses claimed the D.A.'s gunman wore the colours of the Outriders biker gang, but I've gone over the forensics reports, the autopsy reports ... The D.A. took three slugs. Two in the back. One in the head. Biker killings usually occur when a deal's gone sour, there's a turf war between another rival, or if someone in their ranks squealed. Sloppy things. Their modus operandi are usually homemade car bombs. The D.A. hit ... it had the markings of a professional. Someone who knew his job - and how to disappear without a trail."
Chloe recalled the GCPD report. Two years ago, a GCPD vice squad detective was gunned down. It appeared to be the work of some Gotham gang. But that detective was also shot three times. The organized crime unit issued a report saying that evidence likely points the finger at the mob. It listed several of Thorne's known 'associates'. One stood out. Mackenzie. A bouncer from Atlantic City who rose through the ranks. Weapons violations. Charged with aggravated assault in 1999, but somehow walked on a technicality. It was his stint with some militia outfit in Kentucky that stood out.
Things aren't always what they appear - as I've seen over the past few days, Chloe told herself. "I think you've clarified things for me. Thanks." She closed her notebook and put on her jacket.
"Ms. Sullivan, if you're heading downtown, we could give you a police escort," the detective offered.
"I'm fine. I'm not going to let Thorne and his goons make me second-guess the way I do my job." Chloe hopped into her car and drove off.
The detective was getting tired of the mob activity lately. The D.A. hit made most of the officers a little nervous as they continued Operation Stonewall: their plan to keep Gotham's mob out of the city.
"The Orchid is closed for today, ladies 'n gents," the detective announced. "I'm leaving my cards here on the bar. I don't get a call from one of you - tonight - about where I can find Thorne, I'll turn loose the vice squad ... and you'll have to find yourselves new careers. That's my only warning."
Chloe Sullivan already got her warning from Thorne. It's no rumour. She's marked. I hope she realizes that. We'd better step up police visibility around the Daily Planet building.
[First National Plaza, downtown Metropolis]
"Make sure you wire that floor by today," the foreman pointed at the 22nd floor. In two years, First National Bank would have its own high-profile skyscraper, flanked by Luthor Towers and the esteemed Daily Planet.
"Gotcha. I'll have done my job by then," the electrician nodded. He stepped into the freight elevator with his case of equipment. Only the first ten floors were complete. The 22nd floor was exposed. There was a clear view of the Daily Planet's globe logo at the main entrance. Some of the staff were eating lunch in the courtyard. The water fountain in the centre - it would have blocked the view of the main doors - was under repair. Good
The electrician was only here for one job ... and it wasn't to wire the floor for lighting. Mackenzie lowered the brim of his construction hat. I don't like rush jobs. But word is ... Thorne has already jumped from this town. The feds are closing in. But he still wants Sullivan out of the picture. I'd have split town too, but I gotta contract to complete. Fifty thousand bucks is easy money.
Mr. Thorne likes work to be finished. Finished. Better make your next story a good one, Miss Crime Reporter. They'll be looking for your replacement tomorrow...
Councillor von Hutton brushed past the growing cohort of reporters and locked herself in her office. Metro P.D. just released news about her brother.
Clark walked through the entrance. "I just arrived. What's going on?"
"Late to the party, Mr. Kent?" a reporter from the Metropolis Journal inquired, "The cops just issued this." He handed Clark a copy of the press release.
'George von Hutton, of George's Deli, was assaulted outside his shop last night as he was about to close for the evening. No witnesses have come forward, but police are canvassing the surrounding businesses. He is reported to be in fair condition and his injuries are not life threatening ..."
"I wouldn't be surprised if that mobster Thorne is trying to send a message to city council," the Journal reporter remarked.
Clark stared at the press release in disbelief. Now he's done it. Lex has entered into a conspiracy with organized crime. From what Bruce has told me, Rupert Thorne is not a man to tangle with. And the hitman Mackenzie: his rap sheet reads like a season of The Sopranos. Extortion, drug trafficking, attempted murder. Not to mention that the feds suspect his involvement in the Metropolis D.A. hit.
All these years, I was confident that Lex knew that some lines should never be crossed. At least Lionel Luthor made no attempt to hide his ruthlessness. His hands are dirty with influence-peddling, backroom conspiracies with his buddies in Congress, shady links to the Russian mob. I believed Lex was above those schemes. His character - I was sure - was flawed, but not immoral.
One so-called friend is about to betray me. Chloe has her job to do. I realized that, even since our college days. She'll pursue what she sees as the truth. The cost this time is my fate.
My destiny. Bruce told me that, one day, he won't be hovering around me. Giving me advice. He's been at this hero-of-the-night routine for a few years now. To defend justice, he's had to bend the rules: conceal, deceive, and intimidate. The authorities don't necessarily approve of his methods. He knows the pitfalls.
"You know what to do," Bruce had answered during one of their training sessions, "When the time comes, you'll step up to the plate. Stay focused. Be your own person. I've cut ties with most of my friends - believing that they'd expose my weaknesses, or put themselves at risk by mere association. It's not a good life to lead, but I've made that choice. My choices don't have to be yours. You're a reporter. Use that power -- that access - to do good."
"But what if I mess up? People could get hurt." Clark had replied.
"Get up, dust yourself off, and continue. This life is not for the uncommitted. If you second-guess every decision that you make, you won't be able to help anyone. You have to want this. If you have doubts, you'd better not step onto the field."
Clark crumpled the press release and tossed it into the trash. If Lex has gone to bed with the mob, he's crossed the line. I trusted him. Placed my faith in him. The things I've said to Pete, Chloe ... my father. I said they were wrong, they didn't know Lex. Only I knew him so well ...
I could have stopped him. Back in Smallville, when he was vulnerable. I'm going to be betrayed again by another friend. Lex Luthor. It's not enough just to expose this mob conspiracy. The GCPD report! If Chloe connects the dots between the D.A. hit and Thorne, Lex' reputation will be harmed. We can't take anything from a man who has everything. His reputation - soiled as it is - is something even he can't buy.
If Chloe runs with the mob story, it'll be more than Lex's influence- peddling in the headlines. His own integrity will be put into question - whether or not the feds can pin conspiracy charges on him. Perception can be more important that reality. Of course, there are consequences. We'd destroy the redevelopment plan and likely ruin our Olympic chances. von Hutton has a point. None of that is worth the price we'd have to pay.
I've sold out my friends and family in Luthor's name for too long. That changes.
Today.
"Clark, do you have any idea where Lex is?" Lois tapped him on the shoulder. "His office called the Planet to cancel his interview with our editorial board."
"I don't know where he is," Clark shrugged. "I guess he has business to deal with."
"It's just odd," Lois replied, "Council is expected to vote on the redevelopment plan by week's end. I figured he wanted to tell his side of the story."
Clark's mind wandered. Chloe, what are doing right now? Writing the story that will ruin me, or remembering how we used to be so close. That's all I can count on - that you'll remember our friendship in Smallville. You have the GCPD report. You can wipe out Thorne and ram a stake through Lex Luthor's reputation. That story would certainly put her on an even level with Lois.
But my story ... the meteor boy from Smallville who can't be stopped ... that would launch her career into the stratosphere. I'm afraid of her determination.
I know I'm being selfish, but I hope she chooses to crucify the mob (and Lex) instead of me. She exposes me ... and god knows what happens then.
[The Orchid Gentlemen's Club, the city's west side]
A dozen Metro P.D. squad cars, two paddywagons and a pair of unmarked sedans screeched around the curb and into the club parking lot. The lunch hour crowd was already there, catching the first show.
A bouncer in a red bowtie tried to prevent them from entering. "Do you have a search warrant?" An officer ordered him to turn around, then frisked him for weapons. "A 9mm Glock automatic, eh? Thompson, run this guy's ID. I'd be curious if he's licensed to carry this!"
A detective pushed open the main door. Some patrons tried to flee, perhaps unaware that there were officers at every entrance.
"Where's Rupert Thorne?" Detective Reynolds demanded. In the rear, some officers were rounding up the customers, staff and 'entertainers'.
"This place is licensed. You got nothin' on this place!" the bartender insisted.
Chloe walked into the smoky room. "Success?"
The detective shook his head. "I figured he might be here for the 'grand opening'. Now if someone in here wants to be cooperative, maybe I won't let the vice squad shut this place down and charge you all with keeping a common bawdy house!"
The bartender spotted Chloe interviewing one of the officers. "It's you! You brought the heat down on us!" He moved forward, as some of the bouncers tried to restrain him. "Mr. Thorne don't like rats! Your number's up, missy!" He aimed his finger at her, pretending to fire.
You're busted, Detective Reynolds thought. "You just uttered a death threat, buddy. Book him." Half a dozen officers shoved aside the bouncers and handcuffed the bartender.
"So I guess you'll do the good cop-bad cop thing until the bartender sings?" Chloe asked.
The detective scratched his head. "Maybe. I doubt he knows much, other than the rumours he hears from the street. He's right though. Thorne hates 'rats', and I don't think the bartender wants to be one." He took Chloe aside. "What I'm worried about is the threat he made."
"I'm not concerned," Chloe stated, "he's just some punk trying to look tough in front of Thorne's boys."
"Rupert Thorne is not a man to cross," the detective argued, "I know that witnesses claimed the D.A.'s gunman wore the colours of the Outriders biker gang, but I've gone over the forensics reports, the autopsy reports ... The D.A. took three slugs. Two in the back. One in the head. Biker killings usually occur when a deal's gone sour, there's a turf war between another rival, or if someone in their ranks squealed. Sloppy things. Their modus operandi are usually homemade car bombs. The D.A. hit ... it had the markings of a professional. Someone who knew his job - and how to disappear without a trail."
Chloe recalled the GCPD report. Two years ago, a GCPD vice squad detective was gunned down. It appeared to be the work of some Gotham gang. But that detective was also shot three times. The organized crime unit issued a report saying that evidence likely points the finger at the mob. It listed several of Thorne's known 'associates'. One stood out. Mackenzie. A bouncer from Atlantic City who rose through the ranks. Weapons violations. Charged with aggravated assault in 1999, but somehow walked on a technicality. It was his stint with some militia outfit in Kentucky that stood out.
Things aren't always what they appear - as I've seen over the past few days, Chloe told herself. "I think you've clarified things for me. Thanks." She closed her notebook and put on her jacket.
"Ms. Sullivan, if you're heading downtown, we could give you a police escort," the detective offered.
"I'm fine. I'm not going to let Thorne and his goons make me second-guess the way I do my job." Chloe hopped into her car and drove off.
The detective was getting tired of the mob activity lately. The D.A. hit made most of the officers a little nervous as they continued Operation Stonewall: their plan to keep Gotham's mob out of the city.
"The Orchid is closed for today, ladies 'n gents," the detective announced. "I'm leaving my cards here on the bar. I don't get a call from one of you - tonight - about where I can find Thorne, I'll turn loose the vice squad ... and you'll have to find yourselves new careers. That's my only warning."
Chloe Sullivan already got her warning from Thorne. It's no rumour. She's marked. I hope she realizes that. We'd better step up police visibility around the Daily Planet building.
[First National Plaza, downtown Metropolis]
"Make sure you wire that floor by today," the foreman pointed at the 22nd floor. In two years, First National Bank would have its own high-profile skyscraper, flanked by Luthor Towers and the esteemed Daily Planet.
"Gotcha. I'll have done my job by then," the electrician nodded. He stepped into the freight elevator with his case of equipment. Only the first ten floors were complete. The 22nd floor was exposed. There was a clear view of the Daily Planet's globe logo at the main entrance. Some of the staff were eating lunch in the courtyard. The water fountain in the centre - it would have blocked the view of the main doors - was under repair. Good
The electrician was only here for one job ... and it wasn't to wire the floor for lighting. Mackenzie lowered the brim of his construction hat. I don't like rush jobs. But word is ... Thorne has already jumped from this town. The feds are closing in. But he still wants Sullivan out of the picture. I'd have split town too, but I gotta contract to complete. Fifty thousand bucks is easy money.
Mr. Thorne likes work to be finished. Finished. Better make your next story a good one, Miss Crime Reporter. They'll be looking for your replacement tomorrow...