Inside Luthorcorp...
Lois moved through the gloomily lit corridors, her hand firmly grasping the trigger of the gun she had seized. It had been no easy task to enter Luthorcorp undetected, but so far only one man had challenged her, and he wouldn't be trying again anytime soon.
She breathed in, not wanting to turn the next corner, but knowing she must. I hope Clark is alright. I know he can handle himself, but we both must have been whacko to come in here like this. Lane sprang around the bend in the passageway, her arms outstretched, and her weapon straight in front of her. There was nothing. She waited, letting her ears do the work, and a faint murmur caught her attention. At first it was like an indiscriminate scratching sound, but as she listened harder it became a more rhythmic tapping.
The noise appeared to come from a nearby room, and as Lois moved towards it, she noted there was no nameplate or description on the entrance. Great, some bad guy could be in there just waiting for me to poke my head in...or on the other hand... Keeping the automatic in one palm, she tried the doorknob with her free hand, and realized it was securely locked. Whatever was in the room wasn't supposed to get out, or was at least too important to allow free access.
Risking all, Lane stood back slightly and rapped on the metal surface. "Hello? Anybody in there?" The tapping sound grew louder, till it culminated in an intense knocking of wood on concrete. Lane licked her lips. So, is this a trap, or is someone locked in?
Stepping back further, she aimed her weapon on the door, and let off a single round. The lock exploded, as her almost point blank shot tore into the stainless steel barrel, and burst out the other side. Tentatively she kicked open the steel door, keeping her body well out of anyone insides view, till she was sure it was clear.
In the center of the floor, Lane could she a shadowy figure tied to a chair. As she cautiously entered, she noted the noise she had heard was from the seat being rocked back and forth on the concrete. "Lex?" The man before her was almost unrecognizable; dried blood covered parts of his head and face, and harsh purple bruises showed where he had been beaten. He nodded his head as she said his name again. "Oh my God, Lex..."
Lois tugged off the gag first, and then moved down to his hands. Raw, weeping sores greeted her where the cuffs had bit into his flesh, but as she tugged at them to get a better view, he didn't complain. There was obviously no key available, which left only her automatic as a means of removal. It was a task made harder by the angle at which he had been shackled, and Lois shook slightly as she placed the gun near his hands.
Lex sensed her unease, and managed to croak out a few words of reassurance. "Just do it Lois...I have every faith..."
Lane took his advice and swiftly pulled the trigger, knowing she was wasting valuable time while ever she waited. Lex felt the center of the cuffs give way, as several of the metallic links holding them together disintegrated.
Then Lane moved onto the pair binding his feet to the chair. Again she fired, and the millionaire found himself free. "We have to hurry Lex; this place is like being in a war zone..."
Lex nodded, but needed a minute to allow the blood back into his aching muscles. He rubbed at his ankles and wrists to alleviate the painful cramps spiking through them, then looked up to his liberator through bloodshot eyes. "Clark?"
Lois smiled, happy to be the bearer of some good news. "He's okay...well at least I hope he is." She poked her head around the door, convinced she had heard a noise, but there was only distant gunfire. "Clark came in here after you, and I was stupid enough to say I'd help."
"In that case, Thanks." Lex's lips curled slightly in amusement. "May I suggest we go find him then, and get out of here?" Testing his body, Lex stood from the chair and found he could walk unaided. The thought pleased him, because he'd never had to lean on a woman in his life, and he had no intention of starting now.
"There's just one thing, we have to hurry and find Clark, because he doesn't have his abilities anymore...the virus took them. He can be hurt as easily as you or me..." Lane suddenly looked worried again. "I don't want him going on a one man vendetta against your brother..."
"Oh, but you needn't worry about that Miss Lane..." Lucas smirked as he appeared in the still open doorway. At his side he carried his all important briefcase, and a hold-all with his larger possessions, including the katana he had fought Kazuku with. Laying them down, he moved in closer. "I wish I could stay and talk more about your partner's gifts, I so wanted to know just what he can do, and how, but it would seem time has beaten me once again..."
Saying no more, Lucas reached once more behind his back to the hidden holster, and with a flick of his wrist the revolver was out, and he fired. He wasted no poetic words, and gave no chance for his victim to retaliate.
Lois saw the flash of silver as he drew the weapon, and tried in vain to get off a shot of her own. She tugged at her trigger just as Lucas' first projectile slammed into her chest, smashing her straight back into the far wall. Her head rebounded on the hard surface, and as he fired again, a smear of blood followed her down to the floor from the back of her skull.
Having aimed twice for the heart, Lucas ran forward grinning, intent on going for the head shot just for effect. The killing was becoming pleasurable now, and as he pulled back the trigger again, he cursed when all that came was a click. He shook the Smith and Wesson in an angry rebuke, and then realized the fault was his own; he had used all five slugs, and had brought no reload. "NO!"
"You never could control your temper, could you brother?" Lex stared at Lucas, his words scolding, and wondered if he could make a dash to the automatic Lois had dropped. He wasn't going to die here and let her death, and Berman's be futile. If anyone had to finish this, then he knew it was his destiny.
Lucas looked at the gun slyly. "Thinking of making a grab for it Lex? What say we both try?" Another almost crazed smirk appeared, "And may the smartest man win..."
The Kent Farm...
Skeet Henrikson flexed his shoulders and yawned, his dark, S.W.A.T style attire making him uncomfortable in the confines of the blacked out SUV. He cradled his Heckler and Koch G36, and checked his spare clips one more time before looking over to his three companions. All were ex military men, and none of them could be said to have a conscience. It wasn't something they could afford in this business.
"Okay guys, this is the place," The driver pulled over at the bottom of the Kent driveway and killed the ignition, "I'm told to expect anywhere between three to eight adults, possibly two kids. No one is to be allowed to leave the premises alive. Understood?"
Henrikson and his companions nodded and exited the unmarked vehicle. At this distance their targets wouldn't have heard the engine, but from now their journey must be a swift one, and on foot or they wouldn't achieve the goal of stealth. None of their number could afford to be seen until they were at close range, because even though the main phone line was down, someone might still have a cell phone in the Kent household.
Henrikson gestured to his tag partner and subordinate that they would take the barn and outbuildings, while the second pair cleared the house and other areas of possible targets. From here on in, every movement would be controlled by hand signals alone, so that any noises they heard could quickly be identified as the enemy. The enemy...Jesus Skeet, how can you call two defenseless kids the enemy? Adults are one thing, but killing the kids... The retired soldier shook the thought from his mind. He couldn't afford to think like that, and if the others found out that he had, he would be removed from the unit permanently.
Ahead, a flash of color caught his attention, and he leveled his weapon at the movement; then signaled to his companion that they should close in. The figure had only been small, and with pang of guilt Henrikson realized it was one of the children. He's headed for the old storm cellar, there's nowhere for him to run from there... Feeling guilty, Skeet took point, keeping the HK36 tucked to his midsection ready to sweep the confined area.
Once at the bottom of the steps, he stared into the gloom, and then waved his associate down. Breaking the rules he looked at his younger colleague and spoke, keeping his voice low. "It's just a kid...I don't want any stray shots. Clean and quick you understand? No suffering..."
The second man nodded, and then whirled as the double wooden doors above them both clattered shut unexpectedly. "What the..." He raced up the dusty stairs, and kicked out at the heavy timbers, attempting to budge them. When he finally grasped the entrance had been locked, he sniggered. "Nice try, but a padlock isn't about to do squat!" Raising his gun, he let off a small burst of fire, splintering and shattering the wood in a myriad of minuscule sections. He kicked again, and this time the obliterated shutters gave way and he stormed back outside, searching for the enemy. Never once did he consider that he had done the unthinkable, and left his partner Skeet behind in the darkness to his greatest foe...
Henrikson ran after his team mate, trying to stop his rash actions, but the youth lacked his experience and ignored his orders. "Hey, cease fire now dammit!" He reached the outside, about to reprimand his underling more, but a frightened voice called him back.
"Please don't hurt me Sir; I haven't done anything to anyone..." The statement came from the obscurity below, and Skeet knew he must finish the job he was being paid for. It wasn't the money, but rather that he didn't want to fail Luthor.
With a heavy heart he returned to the cellar, lowering his weapon slightly to appear less alarming to the child. "Just come on out kiddo, no one will hurt you..."
"Yeah right...tell that to all your victims?" This time the voice came out scathing and sarcastic, and as Henrikson spun around he knew he too had been tricked, just like his younger counterpart.
It wasn't the kid that stood before him; it was a short little blonde woman, with a cold, steely fire in her eyes that said she meant business. Skeet grabbed at the firearm he had been so remiss in letting hang loose on its strap, but the reaction came all too late.
Chloe had been waiting, wanting to make someone feel the pain Clark had been through, and now it was her chance. With one swift action, she brought the blunt end of Clark's old wood chopping maul down on her opponent's gun. Henrikson fell back with the impact, and the HK's strap fell from his shoulder, allowing it to drop to the floor.
"You think you can just come in here and kill women and kids?" Chloe's temper was totally out of control, and she tried to swing the maul again. Its weight however was far too much for her, and it fell from her grip, slamming into the earth floor with a thump.
Henrikson made a roll for it, grabbing the wooden handle with his outstretched hand. Chloe hadn't finished just yet though, and charged at him with a small garden sprayer in hand. "Oh no you don't!" Kicking out she stomped on the killer's knuckles, then let fire with the spray, spurting insecticide of unknown origin straight in his eyes. "How does it feel to get sprayed back huh? Next time pick on someone else's husband!" See how these guys like a dose of their own medicine...
Skeet screamed as a blistering agony engulfed his face and retinas, and he rubbed instinctively to try and swipe away the pain inducing chemical. The action seemed to only intensify his torture, and he writhed on the floor, begging for water for his burning skin. In that moment, if Chloe had any she would have given it, because no one deserved to suffer like that. Her conscience however, told her that Martha and Lana might need her assistance first, and she turned to the corner where Daryl had been hiding since he'd acted as bait.
"Daryl, I'm going to tie this guy up, and then I want you to stay hidden till either me, Martha or Lana come to get you. Okay?"
The eleven year old nodded, and then carried out a section of twine he had spotted in the far corner of the gloom. Chloe ruffled his hair, and then began to bind her captive as quickly as her shaking hands allowed...
The second team moved up onto the Kent porch, proceeding warily into the farmhouse; an eerie silence telling them the Kent's may have been already alerted of their presence. Nothing in the home seemed to stir, and as the lead hit man moved to the bottom of the staircase, he grew concerned that their quarry may have already fled.
From somewhere above footsteps echoed across onto the landing, and water began to gush from an opened faucet. The leader signaled to his companion, and the pair stormed up the stairs without further pause, spraying the Kent's bathroom with a deluge of bullets. When the dust and debris settled, the leader stepped cautiously inside to find the room empty, and water still pouring into the bath like a waterfall.
It was like some cat and mouse game, and not something he had expected from a simple farming family. "Sanderson?" He called to his team mate, abruptly realizing he had not followed into the recently annihilated room as he should have.
There was no reply, no sound at all. The killer gulped. Someone is systematically splitting us up, ready for the kill. How can the hunters suddenly become the hunted? We're only dealing with some country yokels, and maybe a couple of city cops...
A scuffling and then a scratching noise erupted, catching his attention. It appeared to come from the Kent's attic, and that meant climbing more stairs without backup, and in a very vulnerable position. What if Sanderson is up there...Climbing the steps two at a time, the killer guardedly peered into the upper floor, keeping his firearm in a firm grip. If he had been honest, he had expected an ambush, but as he ascended further all he could see was his partner's prone form sprawled across the dusty floor.
Jumping from the last step, he crouched beside his fallen friend, who seemed to sense his presence, and began to stir. "Sanderson, how the hell did you get like this?"
Lana huffed. "Because I hit him with this?"
The leader whirled, but suddenly found something wooden exploding in his face. He took the blow surprisingly well however, and kicked back out at his opponent, while still regaining his composure.
Lana saw the reprisal coming, and tried to dodge the huge boot heal, but the man was just too fast. She felt herself impact with a roof beam, and lay momentarily dazed on the floor as he leapt up for further revenge.
"You know I hate women who think they're smart..." He grabbed Lana's flowing hair, about to tug her along the floor with it, but Martha, appearing from the shadows had other ideas. Picking up Clark's old guitar she swung it across the hit man's back, splitting the neck off, and angering the assassin further.
The maneuver did at least have the desired effect, and he forgot all about Lana, wanting to suddenly hurt Martha more. The mother shrugged as he closed in. "Clark could never play that thing anyway...he always broke the strings..." She backed up, offering a strange smile.
The assassin frowned. Is she crazy? I'm about to break her neck, and she's babbling about guitar strings? He advanced, thinking he didn't need a weapon to finish this one, but then something cold and metal suddenly closed around his neck.
Grabbing at the cool, steely wire with his fingers, he at last understood what had happened. Martha wasn't crazy after all, and had been making a suggestion to her young companion.
As Lana tugged more on the guitar string, the killer felt it begin to cut into the flesh on his neck, and he gasped, and then choked in surprise at her strength. "Bitch!" He kicked back, trying to spin away from her tiny frame, but Lana held him fast.
"I've had enough of creeps like you all through my life..." Lana put her knee into his back, just to reassert she had control, "And I don't intend to sit and take it anymore!" She looked to Martha with total confidence, "Mrs. Kent, can you tie this guy's hands?"
Martha nodded, then realized that in their hasty planning, they had not brought anything with them to use. For now, she bound their captive with an old belt of Jonathan's. Then apologetically, she began to rummage through old packing boxes for anything more suitable, trying desperately to rush. The rustling and noise of delving through crates almost masked the sound of their next problem...almost.
From the top of the stairs, both Martha and Lana heard the soft click of a gun's safety being flicked off, and as they turned both knew their fight was over. Leering at them, with a 45 in one hand, and covering Chloe's mouth with the other, stood Henrikson's rash partner. He held his victim tightly, pulling her close to him with an iron grip. "Well, quite a bit of girl power you have there..." He waved the automatic at them, "I want my friend untied, and I just might kill you all quick..."
Martha shot a glance to Lana. There was nothing they could do, and if death was to come, Martha had no intention of going quietly. Chloe was held silent by her captor's hand, but her frightened eyes were saying the same thing...Don't do as he asked, I'm as good as dead either way...
"I won't ask again..." The man jerked Chloe's head back with a twist, "next time I break it..."
"No!" A child's squeal of terror and fear filled the attic, and from her hiding place Karyn burst into view, grabbing at the assassin till he almost dropped his gun. Not caring who he killed, he let off a shot at the terrified eleven year old, but he was overbalanced by the force of her collision.
The slug tore into a nearby roof section, ripping a tiny hole that leaked in sunlight. Karyn however didn't even notice she had been a target, so committed was she to her task. Seizing the aggressor's leg she bit down hard, and amazed the killer howled in pain, and reeled slightly backwards to throw her off. The movement was a risky one, because of how near he was to the top of the steps, and as he overbalanced and teetered, he let go of his burden to save himself from falling. Chloe screamed as she was released from his grip, only to fly backwards down the stairwell, with nothing to brace her fall save the steps, and a ruthlessly hard floor.
Chloe yelled one more time, then as the jolt of hitting the bottom stair shot through her, she fell mercifully into nothingness. Above her, the fate of the farm and much more now lay in the hands of two unarmed women, and one very incensed kid...