CHAPTER ONE
1.
"Shall we start at the beginning, Mr. Lewis?"
Nathaniel Lewis shifted an annoyed eye from his novel and found Wanda Rodriguez gliding toward him through the jet's single aisle, hips swaying delectably with each tiny step. Long auburn hair cascaded over her slender shoulders, and framed the delicate features of her face with a seemingly childlike innocense. Nathaniel was unimpressed. He'd seen women before. A lot of women. He couldn't care less how beautiful this one was. It wasn't her beauty that attracted him anyway. It was something of far greater significance, and far more difficult for him to obtain.
Wanda Rodriguez had access to a great deal of money, and did so on a regular basis through the corporation for which she worked. Lewis didn't much care where the money came from, so long as he received his fair share. Money was money, and he'd touched enough of it in his line of work that he'd learned not to ask questions. Even dirty money could be spent, if handled properly. Besides, in Lewis's line of work, there was no other kind. It really didn't matter anyway. Miss Rodriguez had nothing to do with the agreement, as it were. At least, not in the way she expected.
He slipped a hand into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. His eyes left her as she approached and went back to the place in his book where he kept his fingertips even as he placed the butt of the cigarette to his lips and lit up.
"Mr. Lewis? We have business."
His brow rose slightly, though he continued to stare at his book. "Oh?"
"Put that thing out and look at me when I talk to you."
Lewis peered up briefly from his book to see her standing there with her hands on her cocked hips. Despite his knowledge of her unique talents, he didn't find her glower to be particularly intimidating. With a grunt, he went back to his book.
Wanda crossed her arms beneath her breasts as she glared down her nose at him. Lewis didn't budge. She tapped the toe of her right heel to the rubber lining of the aisle walkway. Lewis turned a page. The woman clenched her teeth, seething. Lewis read on. He knew he had time. Even if she didn't, he had time.
After all, business was best when he was in charge. In this, he was determined to let Wanda know who was boss, and there was no way in all the Hells of all the worlds on the planes of all realities and fantasies that he would let her get the best of him. He was, after all, the best in the gig.
"Mr. Lewis," she growled through gritted teeth.
"I am not your lapdog," he said quietly, and continued to watch the words on the page before him. "I am not your slave. I have been contacted by LexCorp. I have not yet been employed, thus I take orders from no one. Luthor made it quite clear that I would be granted my space."
The young woman considered him through angry eyes. "Not what I was told."
"What you were told scarcely scratches the surface of the iceberg this Titanic has struck," he said cryptically as he turned to the next page of his book. Wanda frowned at the comment and at the lunatic grin spreading on the man's face. He thought her clueless expression to be tumultuously funny. "I'm sure that Luthor will be contacting us quite soon in order to finalize the agreement."
As if on cue, the high-pitched trill of Wanda's cell phone interrupted the exchange.
2.
It had been one of those spur-of-the-moment decisions.
Donnie Bennett knew he was the only one close enough to reach the boy dangling over the edge of the city's newest skyscraper, the Metropolis StarTech Tower. A moment's hesitation would mean tragedy, even before the city's mayor-elect Kathy Malone could cut the ribbon to officially declare the tower open for business. Bennett knew his chances were slim. Even if the kid could hold on long enough for Bennett to reach him, he didn't know if he had the strength to pull him back to the safety of the catwalk. There was no guarantee he could even get to the kid before his fingers slipped from the girder and he plummeted ninety-seven stories to his death.
Despite his doubts, Bennett dove for the boy's arm without consideration for his own safety. Grasping desperately, he found that he was just able to reach the sleeve of the other's jacket, and wrapped his fingers tightly about the fabric. Peering over the edge he could see the cold fear in the eyes that stared back at him. A sharp, burning pang in his shoulder as the weight of one hundred ten-pound boy threatened to tear his arm from its socket. With strained effort, Bennett grit his teeth and fought the pain.
It was the silence that surprised him. The eyes of dozens of onlookers pierced through him, standing immobilized, numbed with shock at the scene unfolding before them. Perhaps it was the pain in his shoulder, or the steadfast determination to pull the child from danger, that shielded him from distraction. All that mattered was this life he clung to, this moment in time in which he himself could make a difference, in which he could save another's future.
"Help me! Please!" He knew the poor boy was pleading for his life, and he desperately wanted to help. The strain was nearly too much to bear. "Please, don't let go!"
Bennett had no intentions of letting go, but he wasn't exactly a strong man himself. He grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, fighting through the pain, knowing that he could never win this battle. Sweat poured from his forehead and stung his eyes, making it near-impossible to see. Worse yet, his arm was getting tired. He was running out of time. Determination gave way to panic, and he started to pull with all his might. Unbelievably, he held fast to the boy and lifted him up to the ledge where he could get a better hold.
In that moment, reasoning finally came to one of the other onlookers, who rushed forward to help Bennett pull the boy to safety. For a moment, everyone began to breathe easy; Donnie felt someone pat his back, congratulating him on a job well done.
What happened next was surreal. A cry cut the air with fear—"Timmy!"—no doubt the boy's name, and a woman rushed forth to join them. Bennett knew at once that it was the child's mother, and she was just desperate to get him in her arms again, but she wasn't thinking of the other two men standing on the ledge of the catwalk. Bennett's eyes widened as the woman practically clawed through him to reach her son.
"Hey, lady! Calm down! Everything's gonna be o—"
He was unable to calm the frantic woman. Before he could finish, she gave him a shove, desperate to reach her son. Bennett felt himself take a step back, and dropped fully off the structure. Someone in the crowd screamed, and he saw his world tumbling around his field of vision. He was in a free-fall hundreds of feet from the streets of Metropolis, and there was nothing anyone could do to help him. Donnie Bennett was a dead man.
In that moment, he felt a rush of air that didn't seem conducive to falling. He felt strong hands cling to his waist, and momentarily the pull of gravity didn't seem quite so demanding. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something bright red, billowing in the breeze. For a moment, as he was suspended in midair, time stood still.
"It's all right," a stalwart voice called down to him. "I've got you."
Then, Donnie felt himself being lifted higher into the sky. His breath caught in his throat, though it felt as though he had swallowed his tongue.
The sound of cheers greeted him, and as the safety of the rooftop came up to greet him. The shock of his unexpected survival set in as he was gently lowered onto the rooftop among dozens of shocked spectators. The moment his feet were on solid steel, Bennett spun about to see his savior, clad in blue spandex with a red and yellow pentagonal shield emblazoned across his chest, red cape draping from his shoulders and lifted ever so slightly, fluttering with the mid-morning breeze.
"Superman!" Bennett's voice came as no more than a bewildered rasp.
The Man of Steel smiled and turned his attention to the boy clutching his mother's leg. "Are you hurt, Timmy?" The boy's eyes widened—Superman knew his name—and shook his head. Superman grinned as he mussed his hair. A few smooth brushes knocked the dirt from the boy's clothes. He turned his eyes to the woman who, in her panic, had nearly sent Bennett to his death.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" Superman asked the woman, a suave smile on his ruggedly handsome face. She was a young woman, and pretty, though the youth seemed to have drained from her face and eyes as she gave a pitiful nod of his head, still fighting to regain her breath. A strong hand held her in place as she wheezed. Superman looked, finally, to Bennett. "You?"
Exhausted, Bennett nodded. "I'll live, thanks to you."
The Man of Steel lay a hand on his shoulder. "You saved a life today. If you hadn't helped out, I don't know if I would've been here on time. Thank you." He gave the wheezing woman another pat on the back. "Everything is all right, ma'am. Timmy will be all right."
She nodded meekly. "I know." She turned her tired eyes to Bennett. "Thanks to you. I don't know why I panicked. I…"
Bennett shook his head in hopes to ease her fears. "Your boy is worth it. Trust me."
The woman closed her arms around him. "Thank you."
Bennett hugged her back, and the crowd went nuts.
Superman grinned. He gave Timmy a pat on the shoulder before rising back into the sky, offering one final wave as he flew away. Donnie watched, amazed, as the Man of Steel vanished beyond a mass of concrete towers.
3.
The people on the rooftop of StarTech Tower were still cheering as Superman took to the sky, waving, and then vanished between a pair of skyscrapers. Even as the building faded behind the rest of the city, he could hear the sounds of the celebration, of lives restored.
Alone, the Man of Steel smiled. Job well done, he thought as he ascended toward the clouds, letting the cold air rush against his clean-shaven jaw and the tousle of dark hair across his brow. Briefly, he let his vision travel over the city of Metropolis. His city.
Superman gazed down on his home as he flew through the clouds. Some thought of him as a god, but he preferred to think of himself as just another man. Maybe he was a man of great integrity and resolve, a man of tremendous strength and awesome abilities that no one on Earth could boast, born of another world that these people—that he himself, for that matter—could never fully understand, yet still just a man. He knew people across the globe would disagree, but that was how he felt, how he had always felt. There was no changing his mind.
With his first rescue of the day behind him, he set off to see what other help he could offer. He soared just over the highest rooftops, just below the clouds, scanning for visual and audible signs of trouble. Aside from a near-fatal mishap at the opening ceremony of the city's newest building on the north end of Metropolis, there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary this fine spring day.
It was a slow day, and that suited Superman just fine.
The truth was, other items were taking center stage in his mind. He had personal interests to deal with, and he was appreciative of a break. For Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter, on the other hand, it would likely be a hectic day. A smile on his face, Superman raced across the sky to the bronzed globe perched atop a tower.
It was perhaps the most recognizable building in Metropolis: the Daily Planet.
4.
Tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, Lois Lane peered at the latest draft of her latest story. As always, she perused the story thoroughly, rereading it several times to be sure that it was as complete as she desired before she sent it on its way. With a tired yawn, the reporter leaned back in her chair, her eyes never drifting from the page.
All around her, the newsroom was a flurry of commotion that to the naked eye would have appeared to be nothing more than a mass of confusion. Photographers, reporters, and editors alike, desperate to complete their daily chores for the Planet, bustled about here and there, seemingly stumbling over one another to accomplish their designated duties. Somehow, Lois ignored it all and continued to read.
Across the room, another reporter for the Daily Planet stumbled into the newsroom. Clark Kent shoved his glasses onto his face, completing his transformation from the Man of Steel into mild-mannered reporter, and hung his coat on one of the many hooks near the entrance of the newsroom. He glanced at his watch, bumbling through a procession of busy reporters and photographers trying to get to various stations here and there, pausing only to slip a pair of stories he'd written earlier that morning into an editor's box along the way.
As he finally made it to the other side of the commotion, Clark came to the desk of the Planet's chief reporter. He grinned; Lois didn't even look up from her work.
Clark pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Uh…good morning, Lois. Working hard, I see."
The journalist sat up at her desk, peering over the mess of papers, computer hardware and office supplies to her rival reporter. She arched an eyebrow and sat up straight. "Well, well, Smallville. Finally get to work? And just where have you been? Sightseeing?"
Clark grinned at the thought. "You could say that. I was at StarTech Tower, remember?"
Lois rolled her eyes as she turned to grab her purse. "And no, I didn't forget our lunch date. Did you get your stories in to the editor? The Chief was a little miffed you weren't here this morning. Said he got a call that you were off talking to your sources."
"Yeah, I had a few loose ends to tie up." That was no lie. Neither Clark Kent, nor his alter-ego, ever lied. He sighed heavily and then retained his happy-go-lucky persona. "So, where do you want to go? There's a new Vietnamese place across town and I'm told the food is exquisite."
Lois considered him with a raised brow. "Exquisite, Clark?" She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Vietnamese sounds wonderful, really." She cradled her purse under her arm and brushed a strand hair from her eyes. "But…what if we go all-out American today and just get big, old-fashioned greasy cheeseburger from the diner across the street?"
"Sure. A burger sounds swell."
5.
They sat in a corner booth, munching potato chips and sipping diet cola as they waited for their order to be brought. Lois peered over Clark's shoulder to the muted television, watching the latest of the world's news. She knew his eyes were on her; still, she couldn't help but do her job even during her lunch break.
Most of the news was a repeat of earlier headlines: an international communion of world leaders at the United Nations; a car chase in Los Angeles ending in a burst of fire and tragedy for the suspect; the mysterious deaths of a variety of animals at the Gotham City Zoo; a young multi-billionaire donating funds to six major corporations nationwide, ranging from computer software companies to pharmaceutical firms; earthquake victims in Japan receiving aid from the Green Lantern and Wonder Woman of the Justice League. Nothing extraordinary.
One small report near the end of the broadcast caught her attention.
"Superman at it again." A small smile touched her lips. She leaned her chin onto her wrist and gave a heavy sigh.
"Hmmm?" Clark popped a chip in his mouth as he watched her thoughtfully.
"Oh, nothing big," she said, frowning as she watched the screen. "Somebody fell off of the StarTech Tower building this morning…"
Clark rose his brow at that. "Oh, that. I was there, remember? I was covering the event."
"Oh, that's right," Lois said thoughtfully. "And you didn't say anything?"
"Huh, you're right." He pushed his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. "I guess I got a little sidetracked."
"A little sidetracked? Clark!" She rolled her eyes, slapping the palm of her hand to the tabletop in frustration. "They didn't even get video?"
Clark shrugged. "There wasn't a single camera on the rooftop. Most of the guests were city officials. Only a few from the media, and no cameras."
Lois considered that with a scowl on her face. "No cameras. This was one of the biggest scoops of the year. StarTech Tower…that Donnie Bennett would even consider putting an office building in Metropolis is incredible. The man is an international icon, Clark."
Clark gave a slow nod. "Yeah. That's part of the story, actually. It's not that no one showed; security didn't allow cameras on the rooftop."
Lois slowly munched on a chip, considering his comment. "You don't say? Odd."
"StarTech Communications might be an international phenomenon in the stock market, but nobody knows who this Bennett is. All we know is that he's a college bust who made a fortune in networking software, but beyond that, we don't even have a picture of the guy. He's at the top of his game in communications with a fancy for stargazing, of all things, and nobody even knows what he looks like. If he was on the rooftop when that kid slipped, he could've been standing on my toes and I never would've known who he was." Clark stared down at his hands for a moment and shook his head. "It's not that I don't respect the man's privacy. I mean, I don't blame him for staying out of the limelight, but he's turning a multi-trillion dollar communications conglomerate into a privately owned space exploration program."
Lois smiled at the thought. "It's called being ambitious, Clark. You should try it sometime in the newspaper industry."
"You know Lois, they say the same of Lex Luthor."
She shrugged. "So Luthor isn't camera shy. He thrives in the spotlight. He's mind-bogglingly arrogant, and that isn't even the tip of the iceberg. Public opinion rates pretty high on the man's company agenda, and that's pretty ironic considering all the corruption." Lois paused as their waitress approached with two plates. She waited, offering their server a patient smile and thanks, for the busty young blonde to leave before she continued. "You have to admit, though, ever since Superman showed up, Luthor's kept a clean slate for the public, no matter how corrupt he is behind the scenes."
Clark nodded slowly, staring down at his burger. His co-worker had a point. Then again, Lois Lane always did, whether or not she knew everything that Clark—or more precisely, his alter-ego, Superman—knew. She was a good reporter, with a nose for trouble. She knew how to push buttons, especially those of men in high positions in Metropolis, and seldom got less than her story required. Luthor was just one of those men, if the best known. With or without money, however, Luthor was the most compelling because of his staunch intelligence, linked with his criminal tendencies.
Clark took a big bite of his burger. Lois took a moment to inspect the television as a breaking news bulletin flashed onto the screen. Eyes wide, she bolted to her feet. "Turn the sound up!" she shouted to the man behind the counter. Already, she was past her co-worker and reaching for the volume control on the set. The cook blinked dumbly behind the counter.
Clark started quickly to his feet the moment Lois past, turning to eye the screen. He blinked, stiffening, at what he saw. The tale end of a massive jet, surrounded by a sea of blue, smoke bellowing from the ocean. The word LEXCORP was printed on the fin. Live coverage, claimed the small, animated icon in the corner. Clark half-turned to the door, waiting only an instant for a location, and then dart through past the tables and counter of the café, and out the front door in the blink of an eye.
Lois guffawed at the screen, shaking her head as she tried to ingest the information. "Do you believe this Clark?" She turned at that moment, but there was no one there.
"Clark?"
6.
A crimson and sapphire streak split the morning sky.
In a blink, Metropolis rushed by, and was quickly replaced by the sparkling blue waters of Metropolis Harbor, and then the Atlantic Ocean beyond. Salty air blasted his face, whipping through his thick head of hair and the cape billowing from his shoulders. A wisp of smoke rose into the blue sky on the southeast horizon; Superman focused on the location as he adjusted course. Even from a great distance, he knew it was the sight of the crash.
Within a minute, he was circling the downed aircraft. Not far from the scene, a Channel Eight news chopper that he had known would be there hovered over the rippling sea, delivering live footage, the same feed he had seen back in the small Metropolis diner. He wondered how they'd arrived so quickly—or, more accurately, why they were covering a plane they couldn't have possibly known would crash into the sea, yet somehow were there, nonetheless—when no one else had responded. Putting the thought from his mind, the Kryptonian looked to the doomed plane and considered a course of action. Thick, black smoke obscured his view; he drew a deep breath and blew, creating a powerful gust of wind that cleared the area of smoke.
That's when he saw the fire.
Superman grit his teeth, swooping closer until he could feel the heat of the flames against his cheeks. It wasn't a large fire, but a quick check with his x-ray vision showed a fuel tank in close proximity. Without a moment's hesitation, he pursed his lips and blew again, sending a blast of icy superbreath into the flame. Then he noticed a slick, black fluid pulsing through a gaping hole in the hull. Muscles flexing, Superman pressed the hole closed, molding the metal as if it were mere clay, as a baker would knead dough, and then zapped it with a thin stream of heat-vision to weld it shut.
He stepped away from the plane, into midair, and floated back to peer not at the hull, but through it. It seemed a miracle that the flames hadn't set off a massive explosion, considering a nearly full fuel tank, but he found that to hold little baring to what he saw with the cockpit and passenger cabin.
He closed his eyes and shook his head.
Inside lay five people, including the pilot and co-pilot, and three passengers. Without checking for a pulse, he knew the truth. All dead. He ran his fingers through his hair. There was nothing to regret—these people had likely died on impact; he could not have saved them—yet he mourned just the same.
The Man of Steel waited a moment, checking to see that nothing more was wrong, and when he was convinced that the danger had subsided, he morosely lowered himself toward the sea, held his breath, and slipped beneath the surface. Moments later, having carefully secured the plane on his shoulders, he reemerged from the icy waters and started back toward the coast, the Channel Eight chopper following a safe distance behind. The plane was heavy even for the Man of Steel, but only because of the grisly burden that lay upon his shoulders.
"Need a hand?"
From the corner of his eye, Superman caught sight of the slender, winged figure of a dear friend, the Thangarian member of the Justice League, Hawkgirl. He nodded his appreciation of her arrival, though he never said a word.
"That bad huh?" He glared at her from the corner of his eye and flew onward. Message received, Hawkgirl slid silently into place at his side, his escort to the coast.
Even from this distance, Superman could see the throng of people. The media, of course, and hundreds of on-lookers, come to bear witness to the Man of Steel's latest exploit, gathered on the local beach, south of the harbor. He felt a heavy burden on his shoulders, and it wasn't the plane. Lives had been lost. That price was far too high. He steeled himself to the darkness that weighed on his soul and descended toward the beach.
He could see a car from even this distance, a heavily armored Limousine, slowly making its way to the front of the growing crowds. It was a familiar Limo. The bald man who hopped out was equally familiar. Luthor. He had expected Luthor to make an appearance; after all, the plane resting on his broad shoulders was a LexCorp jet. Any time his company was involved in a situation where the Man of Steel appeared, the crooked tycoon was never far behind.
Superman would meet with Luthor, of course, and be sure that his nemesis received the remnants of his plane. The Kryptonian's heart sunk lower when he recalled the grim task of removing the five people who had died in the wreck.
The beach rapidly swelled below him, and Superman elected a spot to the south where the people were sparsely scattered. He lowered to the earth, slowly, until he felt his boots sink several inches into the sand, aided by the extra weight of the jet on his shoulders. Carefully, after making certain that the area was clear, he lowered the bulk from his shoulders and set it on the beach to the roar of the crowd that quickly encompassed the wreckage.
He flew about the plane to the door, but instead of opening it, turned as the mass of people surged forward. He held a palm up, toward them. The people, thinking he was waving, went into a wild roar. Helpless to stop them, he merely waited. Hawkgirl soon dropped from the sky and landed at his side. Since she understood the grim situation, she merely waited. His silence was enough to tell her he was in no mood for conversation.
The people continued to cheer.
A minute passed, maybe two, before a LexCorp security team emerged through the crowd, surrounding the jet's owner, Luthor himself. The company CEO had a bright smile on his face. He could be quite a good actor. Superman glowered as he approached.
"Superman, my old friend! Quite the show you've put on today, wouldn't you say?" The Kryptonian's glare stopped him in his tracks. The bald con artist blinked, as if he was actually surprised by the Man of Steel's reaction. Superman folded his arms over his chest, waiting. Luthor leaned toward one of his men. "Why's he just standing there? The man's a hero… again. Why's he holding my men?"
No one answered.
Luthor scowled. "Fine. Torrez, get my people out of there."
The body guard started toward the door, but Superman didn't step aside. Instead, he held out an arm, planting it gently but firmly in the man's chest, against his Kevlar vest. "Wait." He turned his steely glare to Luthor. "I think maybe you should have these people cleared out of here."
"Supes? Is that a cold, hard exterior I sense?"
Superman grit his teeth. "I'm not in the mood, Luthor. Just do as I asked."
He took to the sky, and in a split instant, he was gone, leaving the scene of screaming people, along with a bewildered Lex Luthor and a concerned Hawkgirl, staring after him.
7.
"What the hell was that?" Luthor scowled. He shot a glare to Hawkgirl and threw up his arms. "What the hell was that?"
The Thangarian slowly shook her head. "That was a mad Kryptonian."
"I can see that. I just don't understand…" His eyes drifted to the plane behind her. A look of cold dread washed over him. "Oh…"
His man, Torrez, shot past Hawkgirl, up the small ramp, and threw the door open. He stuck his head in, looked about, and suddenly paled. After a quick exit, he slammed the door behind him. He looked to his boss and swallowed. "Mr. Luthor… I think we should get these people out of here."
8.
Nathaniel Lewis, the fourth passenger aboard the LexCorp Flight 14, and the sixth person to board after the pilot, copilot, and three other passengers, strode silently along a busy Metropolis sidewalk, taking in the scenery, a tiny smirk plastered to his face. Lewis, while at first glance not seemingly a man to merit much attention, swept his gaze here and there through the crowded streets and building entrances as the rush hour ground to a halt and the afternoon hours swiftly approached.
He slowed briefly as he came upon a display window filled with various televisions and monitors, all tuned to local and national news networks, revealing footage of the Man of Steel's latest endeavor… a task Lewis knew had come to a disheartening conclusion for Metropolis's Kryptonian savior. Lewis knew how this story would end; after all, he was the only survivor.
Without much more than a passing glance as he strode by, Lewis' smile widened and he continued on toward the phone booth at the corner of Goldwin and Eighth. He stood outside the booth, glancing to his watch, and pretending to read a copy of the Daily Planet he'd picked up several blocks earlier. His eyes shifted to the booth only once, and then he simply waited as he perused the headlines until he found one that proved mildly interesting.
When finally the phone rang, Lewis folded the paper under his arm, stepped into the booth, and grabbed the receiver.
9.
Lex Luthor knew he had what he wanted when he slipped the undamaged disk from the recorder in the cockpit of his ruined jet. A sinister grin stretched across his lips as he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket for his satellite phone. He dialed the number and lifted the phone to his ear.
When the man on the other end of the line picked up, he asked, "How's the weather today?"
The voice that responded belonged to Nathaniel Lewis. "The sun is shining."
"Good. I have what I came for, Mr. Weatherman," Luthor said. "Now, make yourself scarce."
"What about the footage?"
"Oh, I think we just might have a winner here, my friend."
The line went dead.
"All right, call Katz," Luthor said over his shoulder as he held up the disk to inspect it one more time. For once, everything was going exactly according to plan. "And tell him I want popcorn while I watch my movie."