I stopped as though a thought had just struck me. "But you know, Clark, your experience could be very useful to them. Why don't you get back into your...uniform, and help me brief them. I've mapped everything that happened last night. You might know some of the areas or personalities involved." I paused, "If, of course, you think you're up to it."
He looked at me steadily for a long time. He hadn't learned timing yet; the glance's length was meant, though processed only on an instinctive level, to unsettle me, but it was too prolonged and gave me time to rehearse, yet again, my prepared defense. "Why are you getting involved?"
"The patrols and the security?" I spoke with some irritation. "Clark, this is my city, too. I know I've not been its best citizen but I've been trying hard to clean up LuthorCorp. I've made some mistakes along the line, and I had to face the public as though they weren't. Was I to confess to the world that I didn't know what was going on in my own company? The world forgives wickedness faster than it forgives weakness." I turned away for a moment. "You should know that. You were the one reduced to crawling along the sidewalks, without anybody giving you a kind look, let alone help, when you found out what being weak is like." As I turned back to face him, I pinned him with unforgiving eyes. "Superman? Superman would rather see wickedness than weakness. Even in an old friend. After all, wickedness he can punish and destroy, and congratulate himself on a job well done." I paused.
"So you've always been the victim?"
"God, you sound just like your father. Not victim or villain. Not even the hero I wanted to be, once. Just somebody who, like all the rest of us *humans*, tries to get it right, makes mistakes, and gets more tired with each one. Did you ever think, Clark, that while as Superman, you brought hope to everybody--but me?"
"You tried to kill me. Several times, as I recall." He was almost too lucid, and I considered giving him a dosage of the meteor, to make him associate disputing me with pain and to provide the instant reminder of what I'd done for him. However, I knew that this discussion had to happen sooner or later and he had to see it as won fully on my part, not something where he gave up from pain or exhaustion.
"Never you. I tried to kill Superman, yes. But once I learned Superman was you, was part of you...I saved your life."
"You want me to be grateful," he answered, slowly, as if trying to figure something out.
I strode to the doorway. "I don't care about your gratitude. I don't want anything you're unwilling to give. Even fairness. Now--I've got to see what I can do to help this city. Are you coming with me?"
The scene, though with different words behind the actions, was a repetition of our last fight. But this time, when I left the room, he followed me.
He looked at me steadily for a long time. He hadn't learned timing yet; the glance's length was meant, though processed only on an instinctive level, to unsettle me, but it was too prolonged and gave me time to rehearse, yet again, my prepared defense. "Why are you getting involved?"
"The patrols and the security?" I spoke with some irritation. "Clark, this is my city, too. I know I've not been its best citizen but I've been trying hard to clean up LuthorCorp. I've made some mistakes along the line, and I had to face the public as though they weren't. Was I to confess to the world that I didn't know what was going on in my own company? The world forgives wickedness faster than it forgives weakness." I turned away for a moment. "You should know that. You were the one reduced to crawling along the sidewalks, without anybody giving you a kind look, let alone help, when you found out what being weak is like." As I turned back to face him, I pinned him with unforgiving eyes. "Superman? Superman would rather see wickedness than weakness. Even in an old friend. After all, wickedness he can punish and destroy, and congratulate himself on a job well done." I paused.
"So you've always been the victim?"
"God, you sound just like your father. Not victim or villain. Not even the hero I wanted to be, once. Just somebody who, like all the rest of us *humans*, tries to get it right, makes mistakes, and gets more tired with each one. Did you ever think, Clark, that while as Superman, you brought hope to everybody--but me?"
"You tried to kill me. Several times, as I recall." He was almost too lucid, and I considered giving him a dosage of the meteor, to make him associate disputing me with pain and to provide the instant reminder of what I'd done for him. However, I knew that this discussion had to happen sooner or later and he had to see it as won fully on my part, not something where he gave up from pain or exhaustion.
"Never you. I tried to kill Superman, yes. But once I learned Superman was you, was part of you...I saved your life."
"You want me to be grateful," he answered, slowly, as if trying to figure something out.
I strode to the doorway. "I don't care about your gratitude. I don't want anything you're unwilling to give. Even fairness. Now--I've got to see what I can do to help this city. Are you coming with me?"
The scene, though with different words behind the actions, was a repetition of our last fight. But this time, when I left the room, he followed me.