Hopeful Idiot
Chapter 25: Delivery Boys
Started: 06.29.2021
Loise Lane mentally wrote the article as the medics were patching her up. It took less than half an hour to type once she got to her laptop. Sending the document around the world via the internet took less than half a minute.
In all, it took a little less than two hours before the events occurring in Nairomi, Africa were plastered over The Daily Planet's webpage as the top article. (It was just above the feature, also written by Lois Lane, covering the Gotham prison breakout.) Since Lois wasn't just the author but also a witness, it didn't take even that long before she was fielding calls for interviews from other news agencies.
First were the littler agencies looking to score first. The major networks (FOX, CNN, ABC, BBC, etc.) wrote their own articles based on what research they could do with a quick 5-minute quote from Lois, Jimmy Olson, or one of the other witnesses. All the features had the same basic facts, as given by Lois in her initial article, but then they diverged into opinions and spin doctoring according to the political and socioeconomic leanings of each particular network. Bringing in 'experts in their fields' to analyze the event with a fine-toothed comb on what had gone wrong and how it should have been handled.
It was the fourth article, less than 24 hours after the actual incident, following calculating how many times Superman had saved Lois in the past and speculating on their probable intimacy level, when Superman's actions were first called 'an understandable but not inexcusable crime of passion'.
At first Hope found it a bit amusing, especially the bit where suddenly everyone knew that Lois Lane was dating Superman. But things took a turn for the worse so quickly afterward that Hope was left feeling a sort of shocked outrage.
People speculated that Superman's actions were evidence of a much more violent personality than he had previously shown. That anyone who even mildly threatened Lois would be eliminated. A meme started; a picture of Lois with the caption 'Criminals - You Get Too Close, You Be Dead'. The most kind was a smiling Lois with a background overview shot of Metropolis with 'Best Criminal Repellent Ever'; it wasn't one of the more widespread. The most popular were a spiraling set of 'Don't Get Close!' with the same smiling Lois, transparent in the background, with the hulking figure of Superman in full color foreground, face a flat affect with arms-crossed and feet firmly planted.
It didn't take much longer before Lois was getting calls, email, and letters saying she shouldn't go outside so that the public could be safe. The Daily Planet received multiple requests for the reporter's reassignment to Sports or Gossip rather than Investigative Journalism; many said she should be fired completely.
Less than a week and a line of people was standing in the middle of a San Fransisco highway, stopping all traffic for several hours in the first Superman protest. Like ducks following all in a line, almost every major city across the country (and a few in other countries) began to see their own protests; everywhere from Washington D.C., New York City, Chicago, London.
A woman came forward claiming to be a resident of the destroyed Nairomi village…and the protests escalated into violence.
+++HOPEFUL+IDIOT+++
Hope stared down at the protest currently blocking all entrance and exit to The Daily Planet building. It had started around 10a.m., well after when most had already arrived to work. So, there was quite a crowd with her, peering out of the window, down into the mass of shouting people waving signs. Since this was where Lois worked, it had only been a matter of time before they had their very own protest.
"It's like people have lost their minds," she muttered in shocked dismay.
"Worse than Trump," Lois agreed. "Faster too."
"Faster?" Jimmy asked from somewhere behind the group.
"Mmm," Clark nodded, eyes not leaving the scene below. "Trump protests took about four months before the first violence was reported."
Jimmy let out a low whistle, "It's only been three weeks since Nairomi!"
"Nineteen days," Lois corrected absently.
"I wonder if they took off to do this, or do they not have jobs?" Hope commented absently.
Lois blinked and cut a side look at the techy. "Good question…" Or rather, the possible implications of her question were good. In particular, this WAS happening too fast. Trump was unprecedented but even it took some time to truly turn violent. It had eventually come to light that certain groups had been funding the protests and protestors to both continue the hype and make it all even worse; the main funding coming from Trump's primary business competitors. Even after evidence of manipulation had come forward, many had refused to believe it because they were too emotionally or politically invested in the protests themselves.
"Okay, that's enough! Back to work people! The news won't write itself!" the editor in chief yelled. People reluctantly went back to their desks.
If that was true then, it could certainly be true now. Lois quoted under her breath, "Cui bono." To whose benefit? Every crime had come to pass because someone had something to gain by it, whether it was money, fame, or emotional satisfaction. She needed to figure out who would benefit from this giant campaign against Superman.
Lois' smile was full of teeth as she opened her laptop and pulled up a search engine. It wasn't a certainty of course, but she wasn't an investigative journalist for nothing. It was a starting point to finding the truth.
+++HOPEFUL+IDIOT+++
Clark had gone home at 5 as per his normal, but Hope had been forced to stay later. Such things took forever and was insanely boring, but necessary. As such, it was around 9p.m. that Hope finally stretched and began to pack her things.
The night security guard, along with one of the recent new hires, smiled politely as she exited the elevator. "Late night, Miss Kramer?"
"Hey Henry," she smiled back tiredly. "Yeah, there's a big meeting tomorrow across branches. Had to download some updates, then confirm all the programs worked with the new system." She stopped by the entrance desk with the two guards. "Today must've been horrible for you guys."
"Not as bad as it could've been," the new one said.
Henry agreed, "We kept the building locked down and called the police. They took care of it." Their responsibility as security guards was to keep the building and the people inside it safe. The streets were for Metropolis P.D.
"We just had to make sure no one got in to cause trouble." He grimaced, nodding to the large swatches of red splattered paint across the front windows. Two windows had plastic sheeting over them. Sheeting that hadn't been there that morning. "Other than the obvious."
"Tense few hours, but thankfully nothing happened."
"You're a good man, Henry. Stay frosty, new guy."
"Be safe getting home, Miss Kramer."
"Goodnight, miss."
She exited and moved towards the nearest alley, intent on calling Clark to get a ride back to the apartment. It was no secret she was dating Clark Kent, and thus no one thought it odd when, after the protest had gone for over an hour and showed no signs of ending anytime soon, he'd worriedly insisted she call him to escort her home. It wasn't as if she'd put up too much of a fight either. He was on patrol, but she knew he'd be listening for her shout. She simply had to get to a good spot to do so.
Hope was barely halfway down the block when she heard the squeal of sudden braking, smelled burning rubber, and felt a sharp pain in her side. She turned in shocked surprise to see a plain white van with 'HVAC RePair' in large letters spill out three figures in black clothing and balaclavas. A fourth was still inside the van, holding a gun pointed right at her. Of the three that jumped out, one held a gun pointed outward, and the other two came right at her.
A hand over her mouth to stifle any protest. A hand on the small of her back to push her forward. Even as another couple hands wrestled her own forwards and ziptied them together. A good hard shove to toss her forward, overbalancing her so that she tumbled onto a convenient pair of large couch cushions, though she still hit her head upon the siding on descent, and her ankles got the same treatment. The hand over her mouth was exchanged for a ready piece of duct-tape, then what may have been some sort of weird black leather half mask was buckled around and behind her head. Ensuring her continued silence, as it covered her face from the bridge of her nose down to cradle her chin. She could breathe, she could see, but she couldn't open her mouth at all.
And it had all happened so damned FAST! She had gone from alone walking down the street to securely tied in the back of a van in ten seconds. Possibly less. She had been so surprised, and they had been so organized and prepared, she hadn't had a chance to do much more than squeak in shock. Her brain hadn't even registered the threat quickly enough to reach in her purse for her concealed carry; let alone long enough to take it out and fire. It had been yanked off her shoulder in the mayhem and left on the sidewalk.
Hope was contemplating all these facts in a daze, the edges of her vision going hazy.
"In," a deep grunt came from the one right behind the driver.
The van slammed on the accelerator as soon as the last black-clad man was fully inside. The side door closing in transit.
"Hoods."
A shock of white-blond hair was all she could see of the driver. Two brunette, a blonde, and a baldy. The three with hair were pretty nondescript. No obvious identifying features. The bald had a blue spider tattoo she could see emerging from under his collar, and tribal head tattoo.
She blinked slowly as one of the brunettes, a young twenty-something, knelt by her side and put a squeezy thing on her pointer finger. It took her a second to register that it was taking her pulse. He reached off to the side and a blood pressure cuff came into view, which immediately went on her upper arm. In the process, a casual swipe of her side with his left hand had a metal something fall into her lap. She blinked down at it. It was fluffy on the back end. Metal tube with fluff. Tranquilizer dart.
"Mmfph?" It was all the sound she could make.
The guy looked up briefly to give her a semi-reassuring smile before going back to his task. "Pulse slow. Blood ox good. Pressure low." He spoke in a low tone, as if to himself as he took off the cuff and pulled out a penlight.
She jerked back on instinct when it was shined in her eyes. "MMm!"
He didn't bat an eye, only waited for her to realize she had literally no where to go with her back on the siding, adjusted his position to hold her chin, and did it again. "PERRLA normal." He tucked the penlight in a breast pocket.
When the needle came next, she jerked backwards, curling herself into as much a ball as she was able. Which wasn't much, but she tried anyway. Tucked back and pressed to the seatback, so that only her right side was accessible. "MmM!"
He didn't get angry or frustrated. He only grabbed her right arm and pulled so that he could stick the vial to the crook of her arm. Blood began to fill the vacuum tube. Even as it did so, he was frowning slightly. "Took more pressure than expected to get the sample. Possible thickening of the inner right elbow." He filled another four vials, then placed all five into a cooler filled with fog. Dry ice.
He unhooked the needle from her elbow, then grabbed a different one that he expertly inserted into the back of her hand. "Possible thickening of the back of the right hand." Tubing was linked, her eyes following it to a plastic bag of yellow liquid that had been hung directly over where she had been shoved. He adjusted the flow to a more rapid rate, then looked to the pulse-ox meter again.
She looked at the cooler, looked at the men driving and directing, talking to someone over a headset, then back at the semi-medic. "Mmfph?" she tried to be calm as she grunted in askance, but a tear escaped anyway.
Her brain might be slow right now, but several somethings were obvious. This had been a long time in planning. This was organized. Efficient. Professional. Purposeful. This was funded by money, and not just a little. This was done by money with a capital M.
She swallowed hard. "Mmph?" What in the hell did they want with her?
"We're not going to harm you. We're just the delivery boys, Ms. Lane."
+++++HOPEFUL+IDIOT+++++
Posted: 10.05.2022 Word Count: 2211
The Aeslin mice come courtesy of the "InCryptid" series, from the mind of the singular Seanan McGuire.
AN: The movie makes no mention of the specific timing between the Africa incident and the public outrage and then the court case. I made estimates based on timelines of similar real-world events, then factored in that Clark is a superhero (meaning even more media coverage and publicity than most everything) & Luthor's background manipulations.
Even so, please no political comments. This is meant as enjoyable fiction only.