Chapter 3/Firestarter

Clark dialed a number in his cell phone as soon as Chloe and he were in the car going back to the Planet from the hospital. Lois had insisted on being taken back to her room at the Talon, saying that her arm was fine and they need not baby her. Chloe knew her cousin was serious so they left.

Chloe looked over at her friend briefly before turning her eyes back on the road.

"Who are you calling?" She asked.

Clark held up a hand, stopping her before speaking into the phone.

"Hello. Bart?"

"Hey! What's up, Stretch?"

"Hey, I need you to look up someone for me."

"Sure, but isn't that more Queen's department?"

"Well, when you find him I need to know exactly where he is."

"Got it. Give me the details."

"He's a kid, about twelve years old with brown hair. He likes to hang around skaters and wears a black beanie. He'll probably be carrying a lighter. Most likely he's still in Smallville."

"Muy beuno, mi amigo. I'll get right on it."

"Thanks Bart. I owe you one."

"You know it."

Clark hung up and put away his phone. Chloe glanced at him again.

"Bart?"

Clark nodded. "I asked him to find Lois's attacker."

Chloe nodded but looked slightly nervous. "What exactly did that boy do to set the Talon on fire? Throw his lighter at the chair?"

"Remember that boy in the security video?"

"You think it's the same one?"

"It could be."

Chloe looked thoughtful. "Could be."

Clark's phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Got your man. He's about five miles west of your position. He's in an alley."

"Got it. Thanks again."

Clark closed his phone and turned to Chloe. "He's not far from here. I'm going to run. Go to the Planet. I'll meet you there with the kid."

Chloe nodded. "Be careful."

Clark just gave her a look before getting out of the car. Chloe stared, faintly wistful, at the spot where her superman had disappeared.

000000

A lighter flickered on and off in the dark gloom of the alley. On and off, on and off. The boy's face illuminated briefly in the periodic light was gloomy and brooding. He gazed partially unseeing into the shadows. On and off, on and off. His back leaned against the wall. He looked up to a faint sound at his left. He straightened, the lighter slowly lowering to his side.

"Hello?" His voice just echoed in the semi-darkness. "Is someone there?"

Suddenly a rough hand grabbed him. The boy found himself struggling against an attacker far larger than him. He smelled beer and cigarette smoke on the man and he kicked and scratched, trying to get away. His lighter hand fallen in the jostling and he reached for it desperately. His fingers brushed against the cool metal before he was jerked back on to his spine. He had the wind knocked out of him and it was several moments before he could breath normally again.

A fist came out of nowhere and hit his face. The blows came again and again as the boy fought to get out from under his assailant. His hands groped for the lighter. Finally he felt his hand grasp it. Smiling faintly he opened the lighter and a stream of fire consumed the man on top of him. The attacker jumped up, screaming. The boy stood, breathing heavily as the man ran away, a burning figure in the gloom.

The boy collapsed against a wall, worn out from his skirmish. He closed the lighter. There was no trace of a fire. He felt a rush of air behind him and when he turned, a large boy stood in front of him. The boy jumped back with a cry, lighter up, ready to fight. But the older boy just looked at him with compassionate, blue eyes.

"Come with me." Clark Kent said.

The boy hesitated but slowly lowered his weapon. He nodded slowly. For some reason, whether it was the expression, the stance, or just the fact that the young man was here talking to him, the boy nodded.

Clark smiled, turned, and walked away. The boy stood still for a moment, and then followed.