"You really think you'll be able to convince Perry to send you to Washington?" Clark asked Lois as they sat on the bench of the subway car.
"Of course I will. How can he not have someone from the Planet at Senator Finch's hearing? Superman's home base is Metropolis, we're Metropolis's newspaper. We need a local reporter there."
"He's going to say it'll be cheaper to get it off the AP." Clark took a swig of his iced coffee. Cool and refreshing. He'd always thought the concept of iced coffee ridiculous until Lois convinced him to try it.
Lois scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. "Relying on the wire service is lazy reporting. Perry needs to have someone down there who's familiar with Superman if he wants a good story." She leaned against him and whispered in his ear. "And who's more familiar with Superman than me?"
Clark grinned and sipped his iced coffee, glancing at the people packed into the car. Many had their eyes glued to their phones. Some ate breakfast out of a bag, and a handful read newspapers or books. While many viewed the subway as just part of their daily routine, to him it was a reaffirmation. The people he vowed to protect were not nameless, faceless strangers. They were real. The people he rode the subway with had families, hopes, dreams. Some had their whole lives ahead of them, others were ready to enjoy their golden years. They deserved to live in peace, without fear. They were the reason he put on the blue suit.
And how many people like these died when I fought Zod? Clark lowered his head, the memories of that day playing in his mind. Did any of the men and women in this car lose someone they cared about? Did they blame him?
He reviewed the fight in his mind for probably the thousandth time. He should have tried to keep Zod in space, or maybe fly him out to sea, take him somewhere away from people.
But I didn't, and it's not like I can turn back time and change everything.
All he could do was make sure if a similar situation happened, he did not endanger the civilian population.
He wished he could have learned that lesson some other way, one that didn't involve wrecking an entire city.
"Clark." Lois nudged him. "It's our stop."
He looked up at her, just now realizing the subway car had stopped.
They filed out with a dozen other people and climbed the steps to the street above. Warm air greeted them, along with a few dark clouds in the sky. A rainy May day seemed in the forecast.
Clark downed the rest of his iced coffee and chucked it into a garbage can as he and Lois entered the Daily Planet building.
"Good luck getting Perry to stick a crowbar into the expense account," he said as they boarded the elevator.
"Ha. With Perry, it's more like the jaws of life."
They rode up to the newspaper's offices and got out.
"You free for lunch?" Lois asked.
"Sorry." Clark shook his head. "Perry's got me covering the opening of that new sustainable office building."
"Ooh, how exciting." Lois gave him a wry grin. "Well, you are the young cub reporter. These are kinds of stories you get . . . the kind the other reporters don't want."
"Well, one day Perry will give me meatier stuff."
"Don't just stand around waiting for it." Lois shook a finger at him. "You have to go out and find your own big stories. If I had sat on my ass waiting for an editor to hand me a big story, I'd probably still be working for that rinky-dink paper in New Hampshire."
"Duly noted."
Clark wished her good luck with her meeting with Perry White and walked through the large room with several rows of desks, many separated by dividers. He passed a pudgy, middle-aged man and a trim brunette. Gil Merritt and Kristen Oyler, two of the Planet's crime reporters. Both stared intently at the laptop on Merritt's desk.
"Damn, he's finally gone off the deep end," said Kristen.
"Who's gone off the deep end?" asked Clark.
Kristen turned to him. "Oh. Morning, Clark. The Bat. You hear about this?"
"No. What did he do?"
"See for yourself." Merritt pointed to the screen.
Clark stared over the man's shoulder. His eyes widened behind his glasses. "My God."
Six photos filled the screen. Each one showed a man stripped down to their underwear. All had a mark burned into the chests and their cheeks. A bat-shaped mark.
"Why did the Bat do this?" Clark gazed unblinking at the images.
"Gotham PD said they found a crapload of kiddie porn in all their houses," Merritt told him. "Some of those tapes had them doin' the deed. Some kind of disgusting memento, I bet. Guess the Bat wanted to teach these guys one hell of a lesson."
"Who are they?" asked Clark.
"People high up on the Gotham food chain." Kristen folded her arms, still staring at the images. "City Manager Don Banks. Steve Closter, CEO of Gotham Central Bank. Ellis Tepedino, owner of TH Development Corporation. Usually guys like this are just in the pocket of the mob. But this . . ." She grimaced. "This is some sick shit."
Merritt barked out a humorless laugh. "I bet any other pedos out there will think twice after seeing these pictures."
Clark nodded, staring at the picture of Don Banks, staked out on his lawn. His focus was on the bat marks branded into the paunchy man's flesh. He had a hard time feeling any sympathy for people who hurt children. But as horrible as these slime were, he found torture repugnant. And there was no other word to describe what the Batman had done.
"I'm surprised the police released something like this," he said.
"It wasn't the police who took these photos." Merritt jerked a thumb at the computer. "It came to the Gotham Gazette by an anonymous source. Probably Batman himself took them."
The reporter leaned his bulk back in his chair. "I was just starting out here when Batman first appeared. He's always been a rough guy, but this . . . I don't remember him being this violent. Maybe this kiddie porn finally pushed him over the edge."
"Bound to happen one day," said Kristen. "Twenty years of dealing with the worst of the worst in a place like Gotham, I'm surprised it took him this long to go nuts."
"The guy runs around dressed like a giant bat." Merritt looked up at her. "You ask me, he was nuts from the get-go."
"Fine. Then he's more nuts than before."
"I doubt the police will tolerate this," said Clark. "They'll be going after him."
Merritt let out a harsh, sardonic laugh. "Yeah right. The Gotham cops are usually hands off with Batman. Word is their commissioner is in cahoots with him. Trust me, Kent, the cops aren't gonna do shit about this guy."
A long breath flowed from Clark's nose. He looked at the images again. How could the police allow this kind of brutality to occur?
He walked over to his desk, still thinking about the photos. He rocked back and forth in his swivel chair, staring at his dark computer screen. Clark knew he should be doing research and preparing questions for his article on the sustainable building, but Batman weighed on his mind. Did the police commissioner secretly approve of this sort of vigilantism?
You're one to criticize vigilantes. No, there was a big difference between him and Batman. He didn't inflict unnecessary pain on criminals. He certainly could, but just because he had the power to do so didn't mean he should. If anything, it meant he needed to use his powers responsibly, and not act cruelly. Isn't that what being a hero meant? Showing everyone they could defeat evil without descending to its level.
Judging by the photos, that concept seemed lost on Batman.
Clark turned on his computer and pulled up several articles about the so-called "Dark Knight," ranging from his first appearances to his most recent. The man had done a lot of good, bringing crime bosses, drug kingpins, corrupt officials, and the strange costumed rogues like Penguin, Scarecrow, Riddler, and the Joker to justice. Many stories cited the injuries inflicted on the criminals caught by Batman. In his early days, they mainly consisted of bruises, busted noses, and concussions. Later stories described criminals with more serious injuries. Broken arms and legs, lacerations, even a couple of skull fractures.
The culmination was branding the city manager and the others last night.
Batman had not outright killed anyone, but there was an escalation in his level of violence.
Next he found an article in the magazine Gotham Weekly speculating on Batman's psyche. The reporter interviewed "noted Gotham psychiatrist" Hugo Strange, who offered this observation.
"There is no doubt the Batman suffered some sort of trauma. Perhaps it was the loss of a loved one, or he may have been the victim of a crime, which left him with an insatiable need for revenge. As to why he chose a bat motif for his crime-fighting personality, I believe the Batman is someone who has an obsession with the occult. Bats are an animal that have been associated with the supernatural for centuries. Given his tendency to operate at night, his skill at making stealthy approaches and departures, it is possible Batman believes himself to be a supernatural being."
"That's a troubling thought," Clark muttered to himself. Not only did Batman embrace violence, he might also be mentally unhinged.
He checked out various social media sites, wanting to see what regular folks thought of the Bat's rampage last night. Most of what he read disappointed him.
Yea for Bats! Give those sickos what they deserve.
Corrupt judges will probably set these slimewads free. At least Batman gave them an appropriate punishment.
Good for Batman. He can take out these SOBs w/o blowing up a city to do it.
A stab of guilt went through Clark. He noticed there were ten replies to that Tweet that defended Superman's actions against Zod. Not that the praise made him feel better.
Clark folded his arms on top of the desk, thinking about the public's approval of Batman's actions, and how the police were likely to turn a blind eye. Would they still feel the same way if he took the ultimate step and killed someone? Killed them not because lives were at immediate risk, but because he felt they deserved it. He'd gone from giving criminals a few bruises to scorching their bodies. Could he be that far away from taking a life?
I could fly over there and stop him. But that wouldn't stop the public's support of Batman. The police might even be willing to let him escape. Even if he did go to jail, he might inspire others to take his place. Clark had a bad feeling many of those copycats would be more prone to kill than the original.
If he wanted to stop the Batman, he had to discredit him.
Well, Lois did say to go out and make your own big story.
What he had in mind wouldn't require the power of Superman. It required the power of the press.
TO BE CONTINUED