Clark leaned back in his swivel chair, his gaze shifting from his computer monitor to the ceiling. He let out a loud sigh. Even on the best of days it was hard to write a boring story like this recap of tonight's Metropolis Planning and Zoning Commission meeting. With a looming military operation against Superman, it was almost impossible to concentrate.

How did it get to this point? Actually, the bigger question was what was he going to do about it? He couldn't bring himself to fight the military, defy government. Did he quit being Superman? And what happened if another threat like Zod or Livewire appeared? Who would deal with it? The police? Military? Other costumed heroes like Green Arrow or the Atom?

Batman? He cringed at that thought.

Maybe he should ask Lois. Though she might tell him to ride out the bad press as she had on other occasions.

I don't think that's an option this time. Along with sending in the military, he'd seen several polls on Superman. A few showed a more favorable opinion for him than unfavorable, but only by a few percentage points. The rest went decidedly against him, including one with an unfavorable rating of 70 percent.

Clark couldn't blame the public. For years, decades, they watched powerful people abuse their positions, lie, break promises, and commit any number of crimes, with most never held accountable for their actions. Now here comes someone with powers no one else on the planet possessed, a being some considered god-like. His actions nearly destroyed this city, sparked a bloody civil war in Markovia, killed several US senators, and put a bus driver in the hospital with crushed legs. Had he suffered any sort of punishment for even one of those incidents? No.

Maybe the time had come to –

"Holy crap!"

Kristen Oyler's voice wrenched Clark out of his reverie.

"What is it?" he asked the crime reporter.

"The Bat's at it again."

Brow wrinkling, he sat up straighter. "What now?"

"He left four men in front of the Channel Nine studios in Gotham, bat symbol burned into all of their chests. They put the footage up on their website a few minutes ago."

Clark balled his fists, blood boiling. Damn him. I told him . . .

Was the lunatic throwing his threat back in his face? Did he not think him serious?

Did The Bat not care?

He clenched his teeth, pounding away at the keyboard. Clark typed out the P&Z story in about fifteen minutes and sent it to the city editor. Not his best work, but he had other things to deal with.

He took the elevator to the roof, ignoring the light rain that fell. Taking slow, deliberate breaths, he gazed across the Metropolis skyline to the distant, gothic structures of Gotham City. Four more people tortured by the Batman. He doubted any of them were upstanding citizens, but that didn't matter. Nobody deserved to be mutilated in such a way.

Would the Bat continue doing that? How close was he from crossing the line between torture and murder? Could he stand by and do nothing?

A white beam of light rose into the sky from the Gotham side of the river. Clark tilted his head, noting the symbol within the white circle of light that played across a storm cloud.

A bat.

Are you kidding me? His jaw stiffened. The nutcase was challenging him. That's why he left those criminals at a TV station and not with the police. He wanted it broadcast, wanted him to see it.

He snorted and walked back to the roof door. He'd already broken his promise to stop being Superman once, so what did a second time matter?

Clark had no idea what would happen when the military showed up in Metropolis to arrest him. He'd deal with that tomorrow. Tonight, only one thing mattered.

Putting an end to the Batman's brutality once and for all.

TO BE CONTINUED