Clark Kent sat on the sofa, arms folded, legs stretched out. He stared at the TV, watching FOX News' coverage of the situation in Markovia.
"The fractures are widening among the rebel coalition that has been running the government since Superman ousted Baron Bedlam. Some leaders from rural areas are protesting what they believe is an attempt by rebels from urban areas to consolidate power among themselves. Skirmishes have broken out among some coalition members. The worst violence occurred yesterday when two groups exchanged gunfire at an outdoor market. At least fifteen civilians were killed, and another forty-six wounded in the crossfire."
Clark leaned back and closed his eyes, shoulders slumping. Two weeks ago he felt proud for bringing a tyrant to justice. He thought he'd ended a bloody civil war. Now it seemed another, even worse one, was brewing.
Now what? Did he go back to Markovia? What side did he choose? It was so easy when it was just Baron Bedlam and the rebels. Now it was rebel vs. rebel vs. rebel vs. . . . oh God, how many different rebel camps did they have? They'd joined forces to defeat a common foe. Why couldn't they come together for the common good of their country?
How did doing the right thing become so complicated?
The scene cut from the female reporter in Markovia to a gray-haired man with a thin face sitting in an office.
"Superman thought removing someone like Baron Bedlam from power was good," said Goncalo Alves, President of the European Commission. "What he did not think of was the fallout from his actions, and the lives it has cost."
Clark gritted his teeth. He thought back to his childhood, his desire to use his powers to help people. How frustrated he'd been that his father wanted him to keep those powers a secret, that the world was not ready for someone like him.
Maybe he was right.
A sigh from across the living room prompted him to open his eyes. A rush of heat shot through him as Lois stood in the little hallway, clad in just a white robe, her strawberry blond hair still damp from her shower.
Could she be any more beautiful?
Lois stared at the TV, then at him, her lip curled. "Are you going to keep torturing yourself like this?"
Clark didn't answer, just looked down at the carpeted floor.
"There should be a Monarchs game on." Lois padded over to the coffee table and picked up the remote.
"Changing the channel won't change reality."
Lois let the remote drop to her side. She sat next to him, resting a hand on his knee. "Clark, you did good."
"Then why are people still dying in Markovia?"
"People would be dying there if you hadn't stopped Baron Bedlam, probably a lot more than are dying now."
Clark shook his head, putting his hand over Lois's. "I keep going over what happened in my head, keep wondering what I should have done differently. Maybe if I'd met with the rebels, I could have helped them form a more united government."
"You can second guess yourself until you go crazy. As powerful as you are, you can't predict the future. Do you think the people who negotiated the Treaty of Versailles after World War One thought all the mandates and restrictions they put on Germany would sew the seeds for the Second World War? Do you think the generals and politicians who supported the Afghan rebels during the Soviet occupation imagined some of those same rebels would one day turn on them?"
Clark exhaled slowly. Lois was right. How could he have predicted the unrest that followed Baron Bedlam's ouster?
Not that that would be of comfort to those who had already died.
He glanced at the TV. A thin woman with shoulder-length brown-hair was being interviewed. U.S. Senator June Finch from Kentucky.
"We can't have a citizen . . . scratch that, he's not even a citizen. We can't have an alien who suddenly decided to make this country, this world, his home, acting unilaterally. Yes, Baron Bedlam was a dictator, a hideous murderer of thousands. The world is better off without him. But what good does it do to rid a country of a dictator and not have some sort of stable leadership to take his place? These are concerns you can bet I will bring up at my Senate hearings on Superman."
Finch looked directly into the camera. Part of Clark thought the senator stared right at him.
"And if Superman is listening, I want you at these hearings so you can answer for your actions."
"Maybe I should do it," said Clark.
"No." Lois shook her head emphatically. "No, no, no. You do not want to put yourself in the crosshairs of a Senate committee."
"Why not? Maybe it's time to explain my side. Let people know I'm only trying to help, and . . . and that I'm sorry for the consequences."
"None of that will matter to them. I've covered my share of hearings on Capitol Hill. You know what I learned? It's nothing more than a chance for politicians to grandstand. To act tough and concerned before the voters and look like they're going solve a problem, but they never do a damn thing. It's all about getting name recognition and angling for a leadership position in Congress or a run at the White House."
Lois slid closer to him. "They don't give a damn about your side of the story. They'll do everything they can to paint you as a villain. They'll use you as a way to gain more power. Don't give them the satisfaction." She pointed to the window. "There are plenty of people out there who do view you as the hero you really are. If saving Metropolis from General Zod or stopping Baron Bedlam from slaughtering more Markovians isn't enough to convince others you're here to do good, that's their problem, not yours."
Clark sat up straighter, his insides buoyed by Lois's words. "Thanks, Lois. It's nice to be with someone with all your experience."
She drew her head back and cranked an eyebrow. "Is that your polite way of saying I'm old?"
"I did not say you're old. I meant that, well, in the life department, you have . . . well, um, a certain advantage over me." Clark couldn't contain a chuckle. He did like to needle Lois over their eight-year age difference.
She grabbed a pillow off the sofa and whacked him with it.
"Hey." He tickled her sides. Lois laughed as Clark lowered her onto her back. His heart thumped as he stared at her lovely, smiling face, then ran a finger down her cheek.
They kissed. Clark forgot all the ills of the world.
At least for a while.
XXXXX
Bruce Wayne sat on the sofa, arms folded, legs stretched out. He stared at the TV, watching FOX News' coverage of the situation in Markovia. The glow from the screen and the slivers of fading sunlight through the shade provided the only illumination to the living room.
"This is the result when a being like Superman takes non-sanctioned action in an international crisis," said Secretary of State Paul Osuna. "He does not consider the long-term consequences. He does not see how removing a leader, even one as horrible as Baron Bedlam, can make the situation worse."
Bruce's face tightened, the old, familiar anger boiling. The battle in Metropolis again spooled through his head. The shattered buildings, the shattered lives. The lost lives.
Lucius.
He wondered if Superman had considered the consequences of fighting another powerful alien in a major city. Probably not, given the amount of death and destruction they'd left in their wake.
"Your tea's gone cold." A clipped British accent came from behind him.
He turned to find Alfred staring down at him.
"Shall I get another cup for you to ignore?"
"Sorry, Alfred." Bruce looked back at the TV. "I got wrapped up in the news."
"Mm." The butler did not pick up the teacup from the end table. He folded his arms and gazed at the TV.
"For those who are cheering Baron Bedlam's ouster," Osuna continued, "consider this. What if the next world leader Superman goes after isn't a dictator? What if it's a democratically elected president or prime minister whose policies he disagrees with? What's to stop him?"
"He's right." Bruce nodded.
"And what evidence do you have for that?" countered Alfred.
Bruce sighed. Never in his life had he thought Alfred naive or foolish. So why could he not see the potential danger this alien posed?
"You saw what he did in Markovia." His gaze never left the television.
"I did. He rid the world of a madman."
Now Bruce did turn around. "And what if what the Secretary of State says comes true? What if he starts ridding the world of all its leader, dictators and non-dictators alike?"
Lines of disapproval formed around Alfred's jaw. "You've always been paranoid, which does come in handy in your nighttime occupation. But in regards to Superman, you are taking it to an unreasonable level."
"It's not unreasonable. Not after what happened in Metropolis."
Alfred's shoulders sagged. "I know how much Lucius meant to you, but you can't blame Superman for his death."
"Can't I?"
"He was the one who stopped Zod. He saved millions."
"At the cost of thousands. Including Lucius, including 258 of my employees, including 612 other people in the WayneTech Tower." Bruce stood and spun to face Alfred. "Where the hell was he to help rebuild Metropolis? Where the hell was he to comfort all the grieving families, to look them in the eye and apologize? And where the hell is he when Markovia is falling apart?"
"What about all he's done since that day?" Alfred's voice took on a sharper tone. "The people he's saved from natural disasters, sinking ships, burning buildings, crime. Does that not mean anything?"
"We've both seen people start off with the noblest of intentions, only to be corrupted by power. And when you have absolute power like Superman . . ." Bruce's jaw stiffened for a moment, "Well, you know how that saying goes. When you have absolute power, and you think the people in government aren't doing what you want them to, what's to stop you from threatening them, or just taking their place?"
Alfred locked his gaze on Bruce. "Shall I remind you of Mayor Hady, or the many city council members you 'removed' from office?"
"That was different." Bruce pointed an emphatic finger at him. "Hady was in the pocket of the mob. All the council members I took down were also working for the mob or involved in drugs, prostitution, extortion, even child porn." He shivered when he remembered that case. How he kept from strangling that maggot to death was beyond him.
He continued. "I think the current president is a weak, pandering, divisive egomaniac, but I'm not about to storm the White House and kick out the son-of-a-bitch. Even if I did, there'd be an army of federal agents, soldiers, and Marines coming after me. I couldn't beat those odds. Superman could."
"True . . . if he had any intention of doing so. And from I have seen on the news, he doesn't."
Teacup in hand, Alfred strode out of the living room.
Bruce turned back to the TV. A reporter was interviewing that celebrity scientist, Neil deGrasse Tyson, about Superman's powers, and if they could be countered.
"Outside of a nuclear weapon, I can't see any other weapon on Earth that could affect Superman."
Bruce's eyebrows knitted together. He'd rather have another option to take out Superman that didn't involve destroying an entire city.
Which makes me different from him.
He lowered his head, staring at the floor through half-closed eyes. He had studied Superman and his powers, tried to think of ways to counter them. He couldn't.
There has to be a way. Everyone has a weakness.
He dropped back on the couch, wondering if he was engaging in a fool's errand. He fought street criminals and costumed crazies, not god-like aliens. Besides, the government had to know what sort of threat Superman posed. They'd be working on some top secret project to neutralize him. He should just leave it to them.
And what if they fail? Then someone else would have to protect the world from that alien.
That someone might be a man who dressed in a bat suit.
TO BE CONTINUED