10. MIB
CHLOE
He looked so broken, so frightened, that I had to hold him. No matter what he is, he's still Clark, the goofy farmboy whose been my friend since whenever. And he feels warm and human under my hands, and we have to protect him because he trusts us.
We take my car because it's less conspicuous than anything Lex has. Concentrating on the road keeps my mind off what else has just happened. This is just surreal. Not a meteor mutant, but something completely different. The car is full of a thick heavy silence. We're all processing this in our own way. Lex hasn't said a word, but he touched Clark's shoulder, just once, and that was enough. Clark is looking out of the window, possibly =looking= as well, because he suddenly says,
"Stop the car."
I do, startled by his tone.
"There's someone in the Torch office."
A light in the Torch office. Small wavering light, a torch, and I'm overcome with a mad urge to giggle, that's so appropriate.
"I -knew- someone had been in my stuff." I'm vindicated. Then alarmed, because I know what's in my files.
No problem getting in. Clark twists the handle off the door.
Lex has a gun. It's in his hand, and he's cat-footing towards the door, boots it open.
A dapper man in a suit. He looks like an accountant. It's Mr Olsen, the chemistry teacher.
Clark suddenly =moves=, has the man in an armlock. Under his jacket, a holster.
LEX
"Right. Would you like to explain yourself, Mr Olsen?" Clark has the man's arms held behind his back, not hard enough to cause comment. I have his full attention; a loaded pistol will do that. "How much is my father paying you?"
"I don't work for your father, young man. I work for the U.S Government. You don't need to know the department. Suffice it to say, we've been watching Smallville for nearly thirteen years now. We tracked -something- down in that meteor shower, but by the time we got our people here, all we found was a lot of hurt people. We watched -you- rather carefully for a while - one day an asthmatic, the next a healthy boy. With an IQ off the scale."
"I always had that." I still have my gun under his chin.
"But not the high white cell count. This whole town has an abnormal radiation level, and we still don't know the effects of prolonged exposure."
"But...a teacher?" Though if they are monitoring the population, the generations that grew up in the aftermath...
"This is a small town, Mr Luthor. It's very difficult to move new personnel in without comment or speculation. My teaching credentials are real, I can assure you." He moved his eyes sideways. "Mr Kent, you are starting to cut off the circulation in my arms; would you mind loosening your grip?"
Clark, the idiot, obeys the voice of authority. Olsen twists, suddenly, goes for his own gun. There is a blur, a crack, and the man slides to the ground, his arm at an odd angle. Clark stares at the twisted piece of metal in his hand.
"I think I broke some of his fingers." He whispers.
"Good. Means he won't be following us around." I check his pulse. "Unconscious, that's all. You broke his arm, too, by the look of it."
We leave him on the floor. I hand Clark his carkeys and his phone - an even more hi-tech item than mine - open the window.
"Throw them."
He does. I think geosynchronous orbit might be the words I'm looking for.
So we have the government in our backyard, too. Tracking 'something' in the meteor shower. The 'something' is still shocked at knocking out his high-school teacher.
Chloe finishes copying the files she needs to keep, then Clark trashes the drive - nobody is going to be recovering deleted files from that.
"Come on." Already moving down the corridor. "We have another angle to deal with."
And my blood is moving, because this is what I do, what I was bred for. Play the angles, call the shots, think on my feet, take on all comers and never, ever lose.
~bugger. Just seen 'Crush' and I wanted Kwan to be my MIB - anyone else remember that he'd only been in Smallville six months in 'Hothead'?~
CHLOE
He looked so broken, so frightened, that I had to hold him. No matter what he is, he's still Clark, the goofy farmboy whose been my friend since whenever. And he feels warm and human under my hands, and we have to protect him because he trusts us.
We take my car because it's less conspicuous than anything Lex has. Concentrating on the road keeps my mind off what else has just happened. This is just surreal. Not a meteor mutant, but something completely different. The car is full of a thick heavy silence. We're all processing this in our own way. Lex hasn't said a word, but he touched Clark's shoulder, just once, and that was enough. Clark is looking out of the window, possibly =looking= as well, because he suddenly says,
"Stop the car."
I do, startled by his tone.
"There's someone in the Torch office."
A light in the Torch office. Small wavering light, a torch, and I'm overcome with a mad urge to giggle, that's so appropriate.
"I -knew- someone had been in my stuff." I'm vindicated. Then alarmed, because I know what's in my files.
No problem getting in. Clark twists the handle off the door.
Lex has a gun. It's in his hand, and he's cat-footing towards the door, boots it open.
A dapper man in a suit. He looks like an accountant. It's Mr Olsen, the chemistry teacher.
Clark suddenly =moves=, has the man in an armlock. Under his jacket, a holster.
LEX
"Right. Would you like to explain yourself, Mr Olsen?" Clark has the man's arms held behind his back, not hard enough to cause comment. I have his full attention; a loaded pistol will do that. "How much is my father paying you?"
"I don't work for your father, young man. I work for the U.S Government. You don't need to know the department. Suffice it to say, we've been watching Smallville for nearly thirteen years now. We tracked -something- down in that meteor shower, but by the time we got our people here, all we found was a lot of hurt people. We watched -you- rather carefully for a while - one day an asthmatic, the next a healthy boy. With an IQ off the scale."
"I always had that." I still have my gun under his chin.
"But not the high white cell count. This whole town has an abnormal radiation level, and we still don't know the effects of prolonged exposure."
"But...a teacher?" Though if they are monitoring the population, the generations that grew up in the aftermath...
"This is a small town, Mr Luthor. It's very difficult to move new personnel in without comment or speculation. My teaching credentials are real, I can assure you." He moved his eyes sideways. "Mr Kent, you are starting to cut off the circulation in my arms; would you mind loosening your grip?"
Clark, the idiot, obeys the voice of authority. Olsen twists, suddenly, goes for his own gun. There is a blur, a crack, and the man slides to the ground, his arm at an odd angle. Clark stares at the twisted piece of metal in his hand.
"I think I broke some of his fingers." He whispers.
"Good. Means he won't be following us around." I check his pulse. "Unconscious, that's all. You broke his arm, too, by the look of it."
We leave him on the floor. I hand Clark his carkeys and his phone - an even more hi-tech item than mine - open the window.
"Throw them."
He does. I think geosynchronous orbit might be the words I'm looking for.
So we have the government in our backyard, too. Tracking 'something' in the meteor shower. The 'something' is still shocked at knocking out his high-school teacher.
Chloe finishes copying the files she needs to keep, then Clark trashes the drive - nobody is going to be recovering deleted files from that.
"Come on." Already moving down the corridor. "We have another angle to deal with."
And my blood is moving, because this is what I do, what I was bred for. Play the angles, call the shots, think on my feet, take on all comers and never, ever lose.
~bugger. Just seen 'Crush' and I wanted Kwan to be my MIB - anyone else remember that he'd only been in Smallville six months in 'Hothead'?~