PART TWO
Fair speech may hide a foul heart.
-J.R.R. Tolkien, "The Two Towers"
The icy wind whistled between skyscrapers and office buildings, but Clark paid little attention to it. He only wore a coat for appearance's sake; after all, it would look pretty strange for him to walk around without one in this bitter weather. He'd learned that lesson well after Lois had caught sight of him walking up into that glacier on Ellesmere Island.
He was bicycling his way to the Planet office when a crowd gathered in front of the LexCorp Tower, one of the largest skyscrapers in the city, caught his attention. It looked like a bunch of reporters, swarming like bees with their microphones, cameras, and notebooks around a tall, trim young man in a navy-blue trench coat.
Curious, Clark decided to get closer. He'd learned to think and act like a reporter and to keep an eye out for anything that might give him good material-or a chance to help. The man in the midst of the hubbub didn't seem to be in danger, but the reporters had obviously picked up some kind of scent.
As Clark drew closer however, the intrigued look of his face slowly changed. He set his foot on the sidewalk across the street from the crowd and listened, above the confusion and the sounds of Metropolis at work, to the questions asked and answers given.
"Mr. Luthor!" a female reporter asked, raising her voice to an ear-splitting pitch. "What exactly prompted your op-ed in the Metropolis Times this morning?"
"Concern for the city's welfare," the tall, slender young businessman replied curtly.
Another reporter practically pushed a microphone up in his face. "Then you don't think the city is safe with Superman around?"
"That was the conclusion of my opinion piece, yes," Lex Luthor replied, coolly pushing the microphone away.
"It's been fifteen months since the Battle of Metropolis and we haven't had any problems with him yet," another reporter countered, with a slightly belligerent tone. "In fact, some have said he's the best thing that happened to the Twin Cities since Batman first appeared in Gotham. What would be your response to that?"
Luthor, who had finally reached a sleek black car parked alongside the curb, pulled the door open. "I'd respond by asking what good these so-called 'superheroes' have ultimately done for the twin cities-or for the world-besides attracting the worst possible characters to wreak havoc on our citizenry. The Batman brought on the Joker and Bane, while this so-called 'Superman' lured in a fanatic general who probably would've never thought twice about Earth otherwise. We don't need vigilantes or aliens dragging us into their personal ego wars. That's my response . . . excuse me."
He got into the car before the journalists could swarm on him again. Clark frowned, pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, and pedaled away with his head slightly lowered.
When he got to the bull-pen, he found the writers there gathered around Lois; they, too, were poring over the morning's edition of the Metropolis Times, the Planet's biggest rival. Lois sat back in her swivel chair, holding the paper open before her with steely eyes. Steve Lombard caught sight of Clark and snatched up another copy of the rival paper, waving it indignantly.
"Kent, did you see this? The King of Metropolis strikes again!"
Clark cleared his throat, decided not to say anything about what he saw and heard. "What's going on?"
"Luthor's published another op-ed against Superman," Lombard said. "Now that's the third one this month. Talk about having an ax to grind!"
He slammed the newspaper against Clark's chest; Clark deliberately staggered, pretending the impact threw him off balance, and glanced at Lois. She was avoiding his gaze, but her face flamed; whether it was with embarassment at this awkward situation or anger at Luthor, he couldn't tell. He opened the paper to Lex Luthor's article.
It was like a slap in the face. He'd known for a while that Luthor had expressed disapproval of Superman. It had started in earnest over the summer and escalated through the autumn. But this was the first time Clark had ever taken the time to actually read one of Luthor's opinion pieces. The scorn and hatred dripped from every word and made Clark wonder what he'd ever done to offend the man.
"Superman is no trustworthy hero . . . He is either trying to soothe his own conscience over last year's destruction with his assistance to the world, or he is trying to fool the masses into letting him rule the planet . . . his intentions are unlikely to be as pure as too many people assume . . . No one should trust an alien so implicitly . . . Besides that, he may prove be an invigorating challenge, not a deterrent, to the world's worst and most daring villains. Like the mysterious Batman, who has returned to Gotham and resumed his reign of terror, Superman poses a danger to the stability of the city government . . ."
There was more, but Clark didn't want to read any further; he folded the paper again and returned it to Lombard. Lois was watching him closely now. He shrugged, slammed his hands into his pockets.
"Looks like Superman's got his work cut out for him," he said.
"But why does Luthor have such a vendetta against him?" Jenny wailed. "It's horrid! Why would he write such things?"
"Because Luthor feels threatened by Superman, obviously," Perry White boomed. Everyone looked up with a start to see him in the doorway of his office, glowering at them.
"We're all worked up here at the Planet because we, at least, know Superman is a friend," the editor snapped. "Unfortunately, the Powers That Be are obviously determined to turn him into the enemy. I'm not about to sit by and let them brainwash people against him. Jenny, I want you in here so I can dictate a rebuttal against this crap. Lane, see if you can't get an exclusive with Superman, get a response from him."
"You'll take the fall for this kind of reaction, Perry," Lois warned, though Clark noticed her eyes flashed with excitement. "You know how Luthor treats anyone who defies him to his face."
"To hell with the fallout," Perry growled. "Personally, I'd still rather have Superman on my side than Lex Luthor."
And with that he shot Clark one sharp look before turning back into his office with Jenny in tow.
"No, I won't sit for any interview," Clark muttered that evening in Lois' apartment. He sat on the couch in front of her TV, which blared-like everything else-the story of Lex Luthor's scathing condemnation of Superman. Lois was curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder.
"Better to keep quiet and let the storm blow over," he added. "I'm not about to get down on Luthor's level."
"You don't have to get down on his level," Lois retorted. "Just let him know you won't take that kind of bullying!"
Clark raised an eyebrow. "What would you like me to do, sweetheart? Walk into his house like I walked into Glen Woodburn's flat and give him a good shake?"
Lois smiled mischievously at him. "Now I like that idea. You could tell him, too, to stop encouraging my mother to throw us together."
He laughed, muted the television. "Well, you'll finally have that behind you tomorrow, and you won't ever have to dread a first meeting again."
"I just wish I didn't have to meet him for the first time under these circumstances," she said, nestling her head deeper into his shoulder. "Slogging through my mom's New Year's Eve soirée with nothing important to say and nobody pleasant to say it to will only make it more insufferable."
"I guess I could just crash the party in Kryptonian regalia and brighten up the place for you," he teased. She laughed softly and he leaned forward to put his shoes back on. "I need to go, it's getting late."
"Think it's safe?" Lois asked. "You won't be recognized?"
"Not this late at night, and not if I walk and don't take the subway."
He put his coat on, slung his computer back over his shoulder. She stood on tiptoe and put her arms around his neck.
"What's your price for an interview, Kal-El?" she asked sweetly.
"Hmm." He pretended to deliberate. "No price. I'm not selling an interview."
She turned serious. "If you keep silent, he might call you a coward."
"Well, do you think I'm a coward?" Clark asked.
"No," she whispered. "You're the bravest man I know."
He smiled, kissed her forehead. "And your opinion is still the only one that counts to me."
Annie Sarkowski's penthouse and the famous personages she'd invited to her evening party were all decked out for New Year's Eve. The atmosphere was cheerful, if a little stilted, and chances were high for certain guests to grow merrier as the evening went on.
Lois stood in a corner, observing them and their shallow conversations with cynical interest. Her hands were just starting to itch for a notebook and a pen so she could scribble down her thoughts when Perry White sidled up to her.
"Enjoying yourself?"
Lois snorted. "What do you think?"
He smiled knowingly, leaned closer. "What about that interview?"
"He won't give it to me," Lois whispered.
He looked surprised. "Not even a statement?"
She shook her head. "He thinks his best strategy is to keep quiet."
"And you figure he knows best, I suppose."
"I do suppose," Lois murmured.
Perry didn't pursue the subject; he might never admit it, but he had a lot of confidence in her judgment. Instead he nodded towards a tall, lean man standing by the window on the opposite side of the room, chatting amiably with several women. Unlike the other merrymakers his tone and bearing were subdued and his hazel eyes sparkled with intelligence.
"You see that?" Perry whispered.
"Yes," Lois whispered back eagerly. "Bruce Wayne. What's the latest on him?"
"Not too much these days. You know he lives in Italy now, working for a private detective firm."
"No, I didn't know that." Lois narrowed her eyes at the handsome man, once one of the wealthiest individuals in the country. "His name and reputation still keep him in these circles, I guess . . . even if he does have a bad track record of running off and letting everyone think he's dead."
"Twice," Perry reminded her with a wry chuckle.
Lois folded her arms over her chest, thoughtful. "I'd love to know what really happened to him seven years ago. You don't just leave everyone believing you fell into terrorist hands and let them carry out your last will and testament for no reason, especially when you've got a name like 'Wayne.' "
"Maybe you should make him your next project," Perry teased.
Lois was about to make a feisty retort when she drew herself up stiffly. "Oh, no. Here comes my mother . . . and look who she has trailing behind her."
Annie, dressed in glittering Christmas red, was approaching with the most recognizable and powerful man in all of Metropolis behind her. She offered Perry a stiff nod and turned to Lois, who discreetly braced herself for this introduction.
"Mr. Luthor, this is my daughter, Lois Lane. Lois, Lex Luthor of LexCorp."
"Pleased to finally meet you, Miss Lane," Luthor said, extending his hand with a charming smile. "I've heard a great deal about you-all good, I promise."
Lois forced a laugh in reply, even if she couldn't say the same thing about him. Besides what she knew about his opinion of Kal-El, not all that went around about Luthor's business tactics-or private life-was pleasant. She lied politely enough, though: "Nice to meet you as well, sir."
"I've never been much of a Daily Planet enthusiast-" and here he directed a smug nod at the nonplussed Perry "-but I must say, your work is exceptional. I've been driving your mother crazy begging for an introduction."
"Oh, he isn't quite so bad as all that," Annie laughed, darting Lois a sharp look that seemed to say, Behave yourself. "Mr. White, perhaps you'd like to come with me and meet our newest councilman, Mr. Ferris."
Perry and Lois shared one quick, knowing glance-but he had no choice, and had to follow Annie looking like a thundercloud hung over his head. To Lois' relief, Luthor gestured towards the refreshment table. Food always made an awkward situation less stifling.
"I heard you just returned from a business trip in Europe," she said politely as she took up a small white plate. "Where were you, exactly?"
"In Belgium, actually," he replied, watching her with a satisfied familiarity and intensity that made her uncomfortable. "It's a beautiful country . . . a sight for sore eyes after being face-to-face with a scarred Metropolis for the past year."
"Well, things are looking much better," she said, adding as nonchalantly as possible, "thanks to so many valiant efforts to bring the city back on her feet."
"Yes, no doubt," Luthor said. He took up a pair of food tongs, avoiding her gaze. "Though I'm sure you're aware of how I feel about the interference of your alien friend."
Ah, so that's what he wanted to talk about. It was challenge she wasn't about to turn down. She tossed her head, put on a saucy smile, and popped an olive in her mouth. Lois Lane knew how to act. Sometimes she thought she deserved an Oscar for it.
"Superman and I worked together against a common enemy," she said lightly. "I was honored to help him. I'm surprised, though, that you wouldn't want to give credit where credit's due. If it weren't for his help with rebuilding, I highly doubt we'd be as far along with recovery as we are."
Luthor lifted his eyes and smiled at her, kept moving down the table. Lois noticed his hands, as he chose different delicacies, were slender and white as a woman's.
"I prefer to put my faith in people who have the interests of our city, country, and world at heart," he said.
"Oh, and you don't think Superman does?" she asked, keeping close to him.
Luthor gave a quiet, condescending laugh. "When you live in the cutthroat world of business politics, Miss Lane, you grow cynical enough to see through surface altruism. Not only that, but to see so much power in the hands of one man . . . why, a third-grade history student can tell you that's a recipe for disaster."
" 'Power corrupts, but absolute power corrupts absolutely,' as the old saying goes," Lois said.
He nodded, emphatic. "Exactly."
Lois shrugged. "Well, when you live as I do with an investigative journalist's eye, observing everything and everyone around you, you do tend to see that principle playing out well . . . "
He laughed again. "No doubt."
" . . . especially in the area of business and politics."
The barb went home and Luthor stiffened ever so slightly. Keeping her eyes fixed on him and her voice cool and sweet, Lois went on.
"There are men who use their power wisely, of course-men like, oh, say, Thomas Wayne of Gotham, before he was murdered-and then there are some who use it to manipulate individuals, the press, the government. And they don't like it when somebody like Superman comes along . . . somebody who can't be intimidated by a despot's roar as easily as the rest of us can be."
Lex Luthor now looked very uncomfortable. He drew himself up and looked down his nose at Lois. She raised her eyebrows and made her parting shot in a near-whisper.
"And even if Superman was human, he has far too much honor to surrender to the temptations of power. If there's anyone on this planet who's capable of using his strength wisely, it's him, because he has a little more integrity than most of the people in your cutthroat world. Excuse me."
With that, she gave her hair a little toss and boldly walked away from him and the table.
In the seclusion of her apartment and well after midnight, Lois changed into her pajamas and pulled out her phone. She sat down in her bed and texted Clark.
Anybody awake over there?
He responded right away. Happy New Year.
Happy New Year! Thought you might be out at this hour. Meaning, she thought he might be making his nightly fly over the city. Regardless of what Luthor feared, it was the time of day when petty criminals, at least, found Superman an adequate deterrent against illegal activity.
I was out about an hour ago and then came back to work, he replied.
Lois smiled. You are such a night owl.
Always have been. By the way, you looked great in that dress tonight.
She gave a start. Excuse me, sir, were you snooping on my mom's party?
I made a flyover. That plum color suits you.
Well, thank you. Did you eavesdrop, too?
Yep.
Did you hear me tell off L.L.?
Sure did. Don't know why he's so worried about my power when he has twice the influence over this city than I do.
Lois smothered a yawn. I think he believes you have more influence than you give yourself credit for. I'll talk to you tomorrow, I'm exhausted. Love you.
Love you back, he replied, and the conversation ended.
Lois swung her legs over the side of the bed and strode across the room to her bathroom. She was about to shut the door behind her when she caught sight of something large and dark flash past her bedroom window.
She froze, startled. Slowly, she moved towards the window and opened it, letting a blast of frigid air into her bedroom. Almost immediately she felt the presence of somebody very close. She pushed her upper body out of the window and peered up at the nearby roof. Her heart leaped into her throat at the sight of a tall, black form silhouetted against a spray of New Years' fireworks still going off along the downtown riverbank.
It was a freaky sight, made eerier by the fact that such a figure had vanished entirely from the world's eye some seven years ago, only to reappear, without warning, not long after the Battle of Metropolis. Lois wasn't one to cower before it, though. She kept her eyes fixed on it, daring it to come down, encouraging it to speak.
"Miss Lane, I believe," a raspy voice called.
Lois' mouth fell open. The form walked closer towards her and suddenly slipped down a thin black cable trailing down the apartment wall a foot or so away from her window. She hadn't noticed it when she first looked out. Within seconds, he was close enough for her to reach out and touch his black, armored suit if she'd wanted to.
He braced his booted foot against the wall, fixing his keen eyes on her behind a thick black helmet. His eyes, mouth, and chin were all that could be seen of his face. Lois met his gaze steadily.
"You aren't afraid?" he asked, still in that low, raspy voice.
Lois drew a breath. "I was a teenager when the Dark Knight was the most feared and admired man in Gotham and Metropolis. They said no one with a clean conscience had anything to be afraid of. So no . . . I'm not afraid."
She meant it as a sort of challenge; if he was trying to scare her, she'd let him know it wasn't working. She'd stared down an alien tyrant and fought his minions; a guy in a black suit and helmet didn't intimidate her. Not much, anyway.
The Batman almost smiled; at least, one corner of his mouth twitched a little, and the hazel eyes flickered. "I need you to do me a favor."
She frowned. "Why me?"
"Because you know Superman."
She immediately stiffened; he reached out and laid his black-gloved hand on her arm.
"Do you want him safe?" he asked.
"Superman can't be in danger," she whispered. "He's invincible."
"Is he?" the Batman asked pointedly. Lois again felt uncomfortable and tried to draw her arm away. He held on firmly and she stopped, glaring at him.
"What do you know?" she demanded.
"That he has enemies. And if he knows what's good for him, he'll let a friend who's more familiar with the Twin Cities give him some advice."
He let go of her arm and reached for the metal belt around his waist. From one of its tiny compartments he produced a thin silver plate, cut and carved to resemble the form of a bat. He held it out to her and she took it, running her fingertip over its edges.
"Turn it over," he said. She obeyed, saw several numbers and letters scratched on the surface. They appeared to be coordinates.
"Give that to him," he said, "and tell him to meet me in the cave at midnight tomorrow night. You come along."
Lois' mouth fell open. "Me?"
"My advice concerns you, too," the Batman said.
A sound behind her made her jump. She whirled, but realized to her relief that the hangar on which her party dress hung had simply fallen off her bed. When she turned back to the window, the Batman was gone and so was his cable.
Lois drew a long, shaky breath and closed her fingers over the tiny metal bat. If he hadn't given it to her, she might've suspected she dreamed the whole encounter.