The one thing that registered for Jimmy in his drug-induced haze was that Clark had said that blindfolds were a good thing, and that he was currently unable to open his eyes because the blindfold was tied so tightly.

Clark had entered the bullpen not exactly green, just out of place. He'd freelanced around the world before settling in Metropolis; he was only partnered with Lois until he got the hang of the city, even if everybody in the bullpen—expect, perhaps, Perry—thought he'd get killed if Lane let him out of her sight.

Luckily, Lois had taken him under her wing in a very out-of-character protective display, and that had been that.

Jimmy and Clark, as the resident geeks and the only two people Lois could be bothered to eat lunch with, had been fast friends. Jimmy had found somebody fractionally cooler than him to get advice from without feeling like an idiot. Said advice was usually given in the form of unassuming tales of small towns on different continents that nobody had heard of.

"The thing is, they had us blindfolded," Clark had said, eyes sparkling behind thick lenses with the energy of his story.

"So?"

"So why bother blindfolding us if they're going to kill us later?"

Jimmy had always suspected that if anybody other than him were to actually listen to Clark's stories, Clark would be much more popular—stutter or not. Hell, Jimmy would be his uncle's left nut that the stutter had been acquired on some grand adventure in Kenya after an epic but traumatic experience.

Jimmy was jerked back to the present when a bucket of water was dumped over his head and the blindfold was pulled away. He was in a bare room that could've been in any building in Metropolis—the moist air suggested they were in an ill-kept basement. He was strapped to a chair with his arms wrapped around the back and his ankles tied to the legs.

Whatever drugs they'd pumped into him when they'd snatched him were still at work—his mind wouldn't focus on anything and neither would his eyes. Colors and faces swam in his vision, making him dizzy, nauseous.

And he'd been such a good boy, always saying 'no' to drugs. He'd been too busy earning spending money by working part-time as a go-fer at the Planet, and delivering papers in his neighborhood to actually spend his spending money, of course, let alone on drugs.

"James Olson," an ugly face with big lips floating on a blurry gray-blue said. Jimmy wondered how they knew his name.

Of course, he also wondered if they had access to Twinkies and whether or not they'd share.

"Jimmy," he corrected, though he sounded unsteady even to his own ears.

"Sorry; Jimmy Olson," the ugly face on gray amended. Jimmy tried to nod, only managing to increase the vertigo. His stomach heaved without his say-so, and the partially-digested remains of his lunch splattered onto the gray blob-man.

Blob-man didn't look pleased.

The simple jarring force and suddenness of what happened next would've caused him to up-chuck again if his stomach hadn't been empty.

Fists rained down on his face and shoulders. Eventually, the force of the blows knocked him and the chair he was attached to onto the floor, making it easier for them to kick him.

What really got him, as he lay there with nothing to do but bleed and take it, was that he didn't even have the slightest clue who they were or why they hated him enough to sent a death threat, stalk him, arrange his kidnapping, then waste 'valuable' drugs on him to dope him out.

When he came to again, he had an odd view of the room, and his vision was only just beginning to return to normal. When Lois and Clark entered, Clark his usual step behind Lois even though they were obviously a unit, he could see them, even if the room, swarming as it was with uniformed police officers and a few people who could only be EMTs rushing at him, spun around them a bit.

Lois' presence filled up the entire room. Her eyes were blazing, her shoulders were set, and she began verbally abusing the first foe she spotted despite the fact that the man was already in handcuffs.

It was Clark that Jimmy watched, though.

Clark, usually hunched, uncomfortable in his skin, trying to be small and unnoticeable, was standing tall and broad, adding to Lois' intimidation factor. His eyes swept the room, taking in everything.

It was the first time Jimmy ever noticed the sheer mass of his mild friend; the only time said friend ever seemed to possess not only the ability but the initiative to use that mass.

When Jimmy was able to open his eyes again, he was in a hospital bed with an IV in his arm. Clark and Lois were in the guest chairs, Lois scrunched up into a ball with her head on Clark's shoulder. Clark smiled hugely but spoke very softly, "H-hey, Jim. How're you feeling? You had us worried for a while, there."