TITLE: "Trophy"
BACKGROUND: As late fall approaches, the stakes for the Smallville gang and secretive industrialist Bruce Wayne are higher than ever. Smallville High's civics class travels to Toronto for a mock UN student assembly, which coincides with an international relief conference in the city. The tentacles of Luthor Corp. find themselves attached to the bloody ivory trade in Africa, pitting father against son once more. And a splinter group from the anti-globalization movement threatens to hijack the global meeting -- and carve their political statement in blood. Another in the 'Bruce fics' series.
[Democratic Republic of Congo, grasslands]
The global ivory trade was banned throughout the world in 1989 after decades of excessive slaughter threatened to make elephants an extinct species. Artur van Kleet smiled.
He had just downed an African elephant. The baby calf whined as he tried to wake up his dead mother.
With the assassination of President Kabila and his son Joseph's struggles to bring order to the Congo - a land still torn to shreds by famine, war, disease and poverty, poachers in this region had become bolder. There were literally billions - BILLIONS - to be made in ivory. From the tacky streetside markets in Bangkok to the supposedly more reputable importers in the West, ivory was a prized commodity.
Artur, a former South African policeman during the apartheid regime, found the ivory trade to be extremely alluring. The Congolese soldier, who lay dead beside the dying elephant, had stumbled upon the poachers by accident.
His last mistake.
"Bury the body," Artur ordered, "but not too deep. Let the hyenas find him." The elephant groaned one last time, then died. Another poacher, with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder, started up his buzzsaw. He quickly sliced off the two tusks. Other poachers hauled them onto a jeep - with half a dozen more tusks.
The baby calf rubbed his trunk against the corpse of his mother, then cried. Loudly. The racket was disturbing. Artur shouldered his rifle, aimed and fired. One last cry and the calf joined his mother and the
Congolese soldier with the rest of the carrion.
Refuse for the buzzards and scavengers.
A cellphone rang. "Yes. I have spoken with my contacts in Kinshasa. When the political situation and violence have subsided, the Congo government will welcome your textiles plant."
The caller asked another question. "Yes, all I ask is that you provide a cargo ship with a flag of convenience -- Norwegian perhaps, maybe Nigerian -- something that won't raise questions. Enroute to the Far East, that is correct."
One last question. Artur laughed. "How do I make my living? You know our agreement: don't ask, don't tell. Thank you for your business ... Mr. Luthor."
He turned to his men. "We must be across the border by sundown. There's still a civil war brewing here." The jeep raced away.
The buzzards began to gorge on their new feast.
[Highway 401, 20km from Metro Toronto, Ontario, Canada]
Chloe skimmed yesterday's Daily Planet: 'Int'l relief conference: Debt relief, famine top the agenda.'
"I wonder if the G-8 will be eager to loosen their tight-fisted monetary policies this time around," she mumbled.
Clark looked out the bus window. Along the lakeshore, he could see the silhouette of the Toronto skyline. Canada's New York.
"You think we'll be able to catch a Raptors game while we're there?" Pete wondered.
"I don't know," Lana replied, "our class has a full slate of events: the student UN assembly, meet-and-greet with conference delegates, solidarity parade on Yonge Street ..."
Clark thought of the friends he had left behind south of the 49th parallel. Lex was rallying his allies in Congress to put a moratorium on the small- arms trade, despite Luthor the Elder's reservations. Of course, Luthor Corp. was well-known as a war-maker. Bruce was sealing a multimedia deal with some trans-Atlantic consortium. Lex and Bruce has expressed interest in this international relief conference, but the demands of international business had delayed their arrival.
You have now entered the City of Toronto, the sign declared.
"I wonder if there will be the kinds of protests we saw in Seattle and Quebec City recently," Chloe stated.
Pete looked concerned. "Protests? I wasn't exactly counting on tear gas and rubber bullets when I got my permission slip signed."
I hope we don't run into trouble, Clark muttered to himself. I can't afford to use my powers here -- not with the world's media focused on the conference.
BACKGROUND: As late fall approaches, the stakes for the Smallville gang and secretive industrialist Bruce Wayne are higher than ever. Smallville High's civics class travels to Toronto for a mock UN student assembly, which coincides with an international relief conference in the city. The tentacles of Luthor Corp. find themselves attached to the bloody ivory trade in Africa, pitting father against son once more. And a splinter group from the anti-globalization movement threatens to hijack the global meeting -- and carve their political statement in blood. Another in the 'Bruce fics' series.
[Democratic Republic of Congo, grasslands]
The global ivory trade was banned throughout the world in 1989 after decades of excessive slaughter threatened to make elephants an extinct species. Artur van Kleet smiled.
He had just downed an African elephant. The baby calf whined as he tried to wake up his dead mother.
With the assassination of President Kabila and his son Joseph's struggles to bring order to the Congo - a land still torn to shreds by famine, war, disease and poverty, poachers in this region had become bolder. There were literally billions - BILLIONS - to be made in ivory. From the tacky streetside markets in Bangkok to the supposedly more reputable importers in the West, ivory was a prized commodity.
Artur, a former South African policeman during the apartheid regime, found the ivory trade to be extremely alluring. The Congolese soldier, who lay dead beside the dying elephant, had stumbled upon the poachers by accident.
His last mistake.
"Bury the body," Artur ordered, "but not too deep. Let the hyenas find him." The elephant groaned one last time, then died. Another poacher, with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder, started up his buzzsaw. He quickly sliced off the two tusks. Other poachers hauled them onto a jeep - with half a dozen more tusks.
The baby calf rubbed his trunk against the corpse of his mother, then cried. Loudly. The racket was disturbing. Artur shouldered his rifle, aimed and fired. One last cry and the calf joined his mother and the
Congolese soldier with the rest of the carrion.
Refuse for the buzzards and scavengers.
A cellphone rang. "Yes. I have spoken with my contacts in Kinshasa. When the political situation and violence have subsided, the Congo government will welcome your textiles plant."
The caller asked another question. "Yes, all I ask is that you provide a cargo ship with a flag of convenience -- Norwegian perhaps, maybe Nigerian -- something that won't raise questions. Enroute to the Far East, that is correct."
One last question. Artur laughed. "How do I make my living? You know our agreement: don't ask, don't tell. Thank you for your business ... Mr. Luthor."
He turned to his men. "We must be across the border by sundown. There's still a civil war brewing here." The jeep raced away.
The buzzards began to gorge on their new feast.
[Highway 401, 20km from Metro Toronto, Ontario, Canada]
Chloe skimmed yesterday's Daily Planet: 'Int'l relief conference: Debt relief, famine top the agenda.'
"I wonder if the G-8 will be eager to loosen their tight-fisted monetary policies this time around," she mumbled.
Clark looked out the bus window. Along the lakeshore, he could see the silhouette of the Toronto skyline. Canada's New York.
"You think we'll be able to catch a Raptors game while we're there?" Pete wondered.
"I don't know," Lana replied, "our class has a full slate of events: the student UN assembly, meet-and-greet with conference delegates, solidarity parade on Yonge Street ..."
Clark thought of the friends he had left behind south of the 49th parallel. Lex was rallying his allies in Congress to put a moratorium on the small- arms trade, despite Luthor the Elder's reservations. Of course, Luthor Corp. was well-known as a war-maker. Bruce was sealing a multimedia deal with some trans-Atlantic consortium. Lex and Bruce has expressed interest in this international relief conference, but the demands of international business had delayed their arrival.
You have now entered the City of Toronto, the sign declared.
"I wonder if there will be the kinds of protests we saw in Seattle and Quebec City recently," Chloe stated.
Pete looked concerned. "Protests? I wasn't exactly counting on tear gas and rubber bullets when I got my permission slip signed."
I hope we don't run into trouble, Clark muttered to himself. I can't afford to use my powers here -- not with the world's media focused on the conference.