Ducky Lucky's Final Repose
Dust was still rising to the sky in great plumes as he came over the horizon. Smoke blanketed most of the city in a haze as sirens drowned out all other sounds. Helicopters filled the sky like vultures, blanketing out the sun where they hovered. The damage extended as far as he could see.
As Superman closed within ten miles, two more skyscrapers collapsed in a cloud of cement dust. Many of the circling helicopters cleared the area, but the falling spire of a building clipped one not so fortunate. He could only watch in shock as the helicopter exploded midair. The roar of wrenching metal echoed through the streets as the ground shook from the impact.
This latest explosion caused a cacophony of screams that overwhelmed his hearing. Clutching his head, he lost control and dropped fifty feet before he could block them out.
Below him, the roads were jam packed with cars fleeing the city as emergency vehicles shot down the empty roads towards Metropolis.
As he drew near, people began to look up. So many people crying out for him. There were too many of them. He wasn't exactly sure where to begin. It was the coughing that set him to work.
Moving quickly over the center of the destruction, Superman drew his body flat and began to spin in a circle. As he spun, the air shifted direction, sucking the winds over metropolis up. Dust and debris came rolling over the streets towards him. The streets were sucked clean of the cement clouds, which shot high in to the atmosphere.
Rising with the pillar of dust, Superman started to wobble his spin. The pillar began to form an hour glass around him. Suddenly, he stopped. He shot out from the center and flew around the outside. His position shifted degrees as he flew the orbit until the cloud formed a ball. Shrinking his flight path ever quicker, he squeezed the dust until it coalesced in to a solid mass.
Superman grasped the mass between his outstretched hands. Dropping it, he kicked up and hit the ball. The ball of condensed cement dust shot out of the atmosphere.
The air of Metropolis now clean, Superman looked to start his next mission. Under the rubble of those collapsed buildings laid injured and trapped people. He was the only one strong and fast enough to save them. Having removed the dust and knowing what needed to be done next, he felt ready to do his job.
Shooting back down to the city, he was ready to be Superman.
The groaning of girders buried deep within the heart of the Daily Planet Building awoke Perry. Coughing, he gasped for breath in the smoke and dust. He wiped the glass and debris from face, taking stock in his injuries. His left arm was definitely dislocated, and his face was scratched to pieces. Aside from a few joint aches and his back, there was nothing else too serious.
Around him, he could hear the sound of winds blowing through the now open windows. He could hear paper and other light materials fluttering in the breeze. Realizing the windows were open to the world in a place where they should have been fixed, brought the outside world crashing in. Sirens echoed in the briefing room of the Daily Planet.
Perry finally opened his eyes after three tries. It was a moment he would never forget for the rest of his life. Where had been his briefing room was now only destruction. Bodies littered the floor among the remains of the chairs, filing cabinets and the central table. Glass had rained down upon them, shredding those closest to the former panes.
He had to force himself to look away.
Sitting up, he carefully brushed away the glass for a place to put his hand. His body protested the movements. With a groan of pain, he drew his dislocated arm to him. It would have to be reset soon or it would be even worse. While he paused to rest for a minute, he listened for any other sounds of life.
There was nothing.
Closing his eyes, Perry hung his head.
Flipping through the channels, Jonathan kept the television on mute to keep Martha from hearing it. He knew she wouldn't approve of watching the idiot box before breakfast, but his normal paper was late and he had a bet riding with Charlie on the Suns. Speaking of paper, he was carefully avoiding thinking about the articles in the Rising Star. What Clark did was none of his business, and none of the newspaper's either.
He wasn't about to admit he had sighed in relief, though, when the Jimmy person had denied the rumors.
The smell of bacon cooking in the kitchen made him pause to scent the air and revel in it. There were too few mornings where that heavenly odor filled the house. Now that Clark was back for a while, it would be about every morning. That increased his chances of having some despite Martha's and his doctor's warnings.
His revelry was interrupted by the phone ringing. He hoped it wasn't for Clark. The boy seemed happy to be out working in the fields despite his complaints. It would be a shame to have to call him in early, and besides, the chores were being done on time for the first time in three years.
Thinking of which, he glanced up at the clock over the television. Clark had been out in the barn for twenty minutes. If he didn't come back in soon, Martha would send him to get the boy. That would make his chances of getting any of the bacon depreciate because he wasn't the only one filching bacon who shouldn't be.
"Jonathan!" Martha's call rang out in the house.
So startled was he, Jonathan nearly dropped the remote. He was about to shut off the television but Martha came in to the room with the kitchen handset. "Sorry, dear, just looking for a sports report."
"Turn it to LNN." Pale as a ghost, she barely held the phone to her ear for the shaking.
"What is it, Martha?" Alarmed, Jonathan crossed the room to stand beside his wife. He reached out for her, taking her in to his arms. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he held her firmly against his chest. "What is it, dear?"
"Just, turn the channel." She couldn't bring herself to speak. Lowering her face to his shoulder, she dropped the phone.
"All right." Nodding, he held up the remote to the cable box and changed the channel. LNN came on the screen and he turned off the mute.
A woman appeared on the screen, the smoke filled skyline of Metropolis visible in the window behind her. "...probably in the millions. There is no official death toll as of yet, but we can confirm that at least thirty buildings, including the Metropolis Rising Star Spire and Luthor Corp. Towers, have collapsed. The site of a massive explosion, Metropolis is now a disaster zone. New York Governor Tyson is preparing a statement, but there is still no word from Metropolis' Mayor Berkowitz."
"Just a minute." Looking down, the reporter put a hand to her ear. Her eyes went wide. Raising her head, she looked directly in to the camera. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have just received word from my producer. A package has arrived from people claiming to be responsible for the attack. We now go live to the news room where they are playing the tape."
The screen went black. It flashed twice before a familiar shield image appeared on the screen. "We are the Friends of Superman, true to his word. In the past several days, vile..."
Jonathan turned off the television.
6 Months Later.
Clearing his throat, Clark glanced over his glasses at Lois. This was the third time she had shifted in her seat in the past minute. If he wasn't certain it would earn him an earful, he would comment on it. She didn't have to be here, no one would fault her for staying behind. Then again, since when did Lois ever miss an important announcement?
Dropping her pen, Lois looked to Clark in shock. "Oops." With a sly grin, she bent over in her seat. Instead of going for the pen, she reached under her ankle length dress and adjusted the straps on her leg brace. When she had loosened them, she picked up her pen and sat back in her chair. She met Clark's serious expression with a frown. "What?"
"You didn't have to fake it. No one would think any less of you for..." He shut up when she pointed the tip of her pen at his chest. "Okay, never mind."
"That's right, Smallville, and you'd better keep it that way." Another two months and she could move with just her cane. It would be great to get off the crutches, and the cane would be useful for keeping Clark in line. Unfortunately, it would be another six months before she could wear nylons again.
Damned plastic surgeons and their long waiting lists of charity cases! To add to her already foul mood, the idea of plastic surgery brought up thoughts of Kat. That bitch had already consulted with a plastic surgeon before the attack. Since she had an appointment, they had gone ahead with her surgery.
Nearly snapping her pen in half, Lois pushed her hair out of her eyes. That made her smirk. At least her hair was real. Kat had to have hers cut off to save her life. That was one real victory for Lois, at least until Kat's grew back. But she still had the pictures of the other woman looking like a burnt Barbie doll.
Snapping his fingers, Clark drew Lois' attention to him. Despite her scowl, he knew she didn't mean it. Then again, he had snapped at her like a dog. So, she probably meant it. Pushing his glasses up at her, he nodded to the podium. "It looks like they are about to get started."
"Don't ever snap at me again, Clark. They'll have to send in spelunkers to find your fingers where I shove them." Pasting on her professional face, she looked up to the new Mayor and her staff as they walked on to the stage.
Pushing her hair behind her ear, Mayor Ulani unfolded the manilla folder her aide handed to her. She smiled at the gathered crowd of reporters before looking down at it. "Thank you for coming. In the last six months, our great city has come under attack from several of her own citizens. Much to the horror of our people, and the rest of the world, they perpetrated the single greatest act of terrorism in our city's history."
Lois noted the way several people around them shifted uncomfortably. More than one eye was wiped in the ensuing seconds. Much to her embarrassment, her partner was one of them.
After the long pause, the mayor cleared her throat. "It is with great satisfaction I come here to stand before you today." Raising her head, she closed the folder. "After six months of searching, the FBI has located the last member of the original cell of the terrorist organization, F.o.S. Michael Bay has been captured, and those who were protecting him, arrested. At long last, the nightmare is truly over!"
This time, when the mayor paused, loud cheers and applause erupted in the town hall. Lois, in spite of her injury, was one of those on their feet. The fact Clark was helping keeping her steady, she readily ignored. And the stinging in her eyes, that was just the bright lights.
Slipping his hand from under her arm, to around her waist, Clark eased Lois back down to her chair. He cast a quick look to the mayor. When she nodded to him, he took his own seat. So long as she and the others kept his alter ego's name out of it, he would keep his part of the bargain to protect them all.
Stepping off the lift car, Lois pushed passed the gathering of waiting people. Behind her, she could hear Clark protest her actions, but didn't give a damn. She had scored a major scoop from one of the Feebs on the F.o.S. case after the press conference. If she got it, there was no doubt another already on the same trail. She had to get it out first.
Swinging her body out between her crutches, she sped down the new wheelchair ramp in to the newsroom of the Daily Planet. The refurbished offices were like a shinier version of the old ones. The insurance company had pitched a bitch fit over it, and their premiums went through the roof, but it was worth every penny.
Unlike some of the others who had taken the worker's trauma comp whatever, she had put that shit in her past and moved on. She was a journalist, damn it, and there was always a new story to write. Hitting a few toes as she hopped through the desks to her own, she spun and fell in to her waiting desk chair.
Still at the elevators, Clark watched her go with a pang of regret. This wasn't his fault. Nothing that had been done in his name could even remotely possibly pinned on him. Still, it kept him from ever sleeping through a full night. Adjusting his glasses, his eyes fell upon the center banister.
The plaque with the names of every staff member who had died that day was still shiny.
Clenching his jaw, he noted there was one absent. He was distracted by the hint of perfume on the office airflow. Turning to face the source, he found Kat standing beside him. "Hello."
Instead of responding, she gave him a sad smile. Patting his shoulder, she moved passed him and back down in to the news room. Taking the stairs, she caught Lois' gaze and smirked at her. She took each step slowly, kicking out with her newly waxed legs.
Growling, Lois squished the hell out of a stress doll.
Having had enough of the goings on, Perry poked his head out of his office. "All right people, we've got a paper to put out for this afternoon. Alice done told me she's going to kick my butt if I don't leave on time tonight, and I'm taking any of you with me who makes me late!" Much to his satisfaction and pride, his newsroom picked up their pace a little.
There were a lot of familiar names on that damned plate. Most he'd known for years. Speaking of which, Perry straightened up. "Kent, get your butt in here!"
"Coming, chief." Tracing the plate with his fingers, Clark sighed. He wanted to linger a little longer, remembering the people he had known for only a year. It hadn't been that long a time, but it felt like an eternity since they were gone. Putting his hands in his pockets, he took his time walking to Perry's office.
Once the man was inside his office, Perry closed the door behind them. He strolled over behind his desk and took a seat. What he was about to say needed physical support. Pushing his tie down, he decided he had dawdled long enough. "I want to thank you for coming back."
"It was nothing, sir, really. Those were my friends too..." Raising his eyes, Clark caught Perry's gaze. "What is it? Do I have something on my face?"
"I meant, thank you, Superman." Perry let Clark think on that for a minute before he pushed on. There had been too many sad facts lately, he knew the alien man needed a little happiness. "This has been hard on all of us, but you most of all. My part in all of this, I was a catalyst to something so despicable and disgusting, it makes me wonder how I even sleep."
"You're not the only one," Clark said it before he even realized he was going to. Shifting his stance, he cleared his throat. "I'm not certain how you figured it out, but I'm tired of pretending, so I won't bother to deny it. As for coming back, I didn't have a choice. People needed me."
"You're a good man. A lot better than most of us, myself included." Twisting his chair to the right, Perry had to look away from Clark. He couldn't say what he needed to and face the man. There just wasn't enough strength in him. "As a species, we are some of the most... I won't blame you if you just take off one day. I won't say that you're not needed here, but if it's all that's keeping you here, your job's done."
Clark was silent for a while. He started to say something, physically moving in his spot, several times. Each time, however, he would pull back and let it go. Finally, he settled on something else. "Why is Jimmy's name not on the plaque?"
The older man exhaled slowly. Letting his head fall, he shook it absently. "Jimmy was no longer employed here at the time of..." he trailed off, unable to finish. When the door opened and closed a short time later, he had to bite his lips to keep from reacting. Closing his eyes, he clenched his hands around the arm rests of his new chair.
Shutting off her desk lamp, Kat stretched her neck and turned her head until she heard a pop. Sighing from the relief, she picked up her purse. She started to weave her way through the desks only to stop at Clark's. His light was the only one left on in the entire day time newsroom; not even Perry still remained.
Leaning against his desk, she waited until he looked up before smiling. She pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. "Hey there. Got any plans tonight?"
Twisting the pencil between his fingers, Clark shook his head. He had been contemplating what the editor had said for hours. Nothing had been resolved in his mind. "Not tonight."
Kat cocked her hip against the desk. "Wanna change that?" At his head shake, she sighed and turned off her charms. "Worth a shot." She shifted her coat from one arm to other so she could sit on his desk. "Are you going to the memorial ceremony tonight? I hear they are actually having scripture readings in seven different languages, each from a different religion. Some mumbo jumbo about being a holy number or lucky number."
Snorting, Clark put the pencil down on his desk. "No. I wouldn't feel like I belong."
"None of us do. We're alive, this ceremony is for the dead." Snickering, Kat felt utterly ridiculous for having made the crack. It was too tense for light conversation, but she wasn't having any of that. "We have to live it up, Kent. It's been six months, I've got a new body job, and I'm dying to take this puppy out and void the warranty, if you catch my meaning!"
Actually breaking out in a laugh this time, Clark shook his head. The offer was tempting, and for a minute, he allowed himself to look her over. She wasn't kidding about the new look. They had done a lot of nipping and tucking while fixing the scars that had covered her. But, it didn't feel right.
Seeing his physical reaction before he started to speak, Kat rolled her eyes and put a finger to his lips. "Stop. The verbal rejection would kill me. I'm off to the Marzipan Nightmare. See if this body can get me in with the just twenty-one crowd." Sliding off his desk, she shook her head. "God, I'm only thirty-two and already, I feel like I'm grand ma. I need to get laid. Ciao, Kent!"
Watching her go, Clark felt a little pang of envy strike his heart. She could move on with her life. All of them could. The scars were there, but as soon as they were gone, it was almost like none of it ever existed for them. Closing his eyes, Clark shut out the world around him.
Pushing the shirts on his closet's bar back in to place, Clark ran his hands down one of his favorites. The hiding place for his costumes was safe still, his building having been no where near the effected area. While he considered his clothes, he tugged on the sleeve of his uniform. It was one of the new ones his mom had made for him; the last set all but ruined from helping people six months before.
Ordinarily, the thought of his mom making his clothes would have made him cringe. Not for the fact that she couldn't do it, or they would be out of style, but because it was his mom. Momma's boys were always made fun of, no matter where he went. Then again, no mother was like his, so they could all go suck it!
Smirking at his thoughts, he shook his head and closed the closet door. If he was going to make the ceremony before the unveiling of the memorial, he had to hurry. Then again, he could break the speed of sound, he could linger a little longer.
He was considering using the skylight or his window when the phone rang. It was either Lois drunk dialing to tell him she had found another reason to hate Kat, or his parents. Checking the ID, he found it was the latter. He clicked the button and smiled. "Hi, mom, dad."
"Hello, son!" Jonathan's voice came over the line proud and clear. "I saw the news this evening. Great job for nailing that son of a bitch!"
"Thank you, dad." Skin growing hot, Clark lowered his head. He hadn't gone in, but his abilities had located Michael's hideout, plus he had flown cover. The authorities had needed this victory, to show the people they were strong even without him. It was a lie, but it was the publicity that counted.
"Clark, while I disagree with your father's language, I applaud your efforts. Congratulations and well done!" Cheering over the line, Martha giggled. "I'm very proud of you! I just wish I could tell the whole world my son saved the day."
"You can still brag about me, mom. I got a headline coming out in tomorrow's edition. Front page in big, bold print." Rubbing at the back of his head, Clark fought not to blush. When he realized what he had done, he walked over to the mirror to fix his hair. "How are you guys doing?"
"We're fine. Great even. We just wanted to call you." Martha sighed over the line. There was a TV playing in the background which she cut off. "Your father was watching the game when I dialed your number."
Clark had to fight not to chuckle. "I could tell. Who's winning?"
"We are! Yes!" The sound of loud cheering and kissing came through the speaker. "Sorry, Clark, the Suns scored a touchdown and I had to kiss your mother for good luck..."
"For the field goal," Clark finished. Hearing another smooch, he rolled his eyes. "I take it they got the extra point?"
"Sailed through clear!" This time it was his mother who responded. "Clark, are you still coming out tonight?"
"Yeah, it all depends on how long the ceremony takes. If I come in late, I'll use the window so as not to wake you." Checking the time, Clark winced. "Sorry, mom, dad, I have to go. I'm already late! I'll see you tonight or tomorrow morning. Love you, night!"
"Love you, Clark, I will see you then." His mother's voice held a note of pride that made his chest expand.
"The same goes for me, son. We love you and are both very proud of you." Jonathan kissed the receiver before hanging up.
Hanging up, Clark flew up to the ceiling of his apartment. Pushing open the skylight, he shot out over the city.
Metropolis was looking for Superman.