Part Two – Into the Abyss
Chapter Eight
Clark awoke to the comforting smells of a farmhouse breakfast: bacon, pancakes, eggs, toast and coffee. He smiled sleepily and burrowed further under the duvet, nuzzling his face against the dark tresses of his sleeping wife's hair.
He loved waking up this way; to the quiet of the farm in Smallville; the smell of home cooking; the feel of Lois' soft curves against his skin and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.
He reached out, with his heightened senses, to listen to the sounds of the farm coming to life.
"… Do you really think they'd appreciate the intrusion, Master Bruce? I know that Ms Lane's activities seemed to have been quite challenging, and by your own account, Mr Kent also endured a gruelling day, yesterday."
"I can't help it if Clark feels obligated to fly out to California and play hero every time Ollie Queen yells fire."
"Clearly, sir. It's obvious that saving people from burning to death in their own homes couldn't possibly trump the destruction of a drug smuggling operation. After all, it's not every day you get to do that, now, do you?"
"What would you have me do, Alfred; beat at a forest fire with the wings of my costume?"
"You've attempted more bizarre rescues, Master Bruce."
Those voices clearly didn't belong on a farm, and the enticing smells that had been teasing the edge of Clark's senses since he'd woken up, had nothing to do with his mother's cooking.
He opened his eyes and raised his head slowly to take in their surroundings. It didn't take long to reacquaint himself with the opulence of the guest room they were currently occupying.
The large, four-poster, open canopied bed he and Lois shared was the centre-piece of the room, while an antique full-length mirror stood in one corner, and aged mahogany furniture peppered the remainder of the large bedroom in various other corners and nooks.
The sarcastic banter he could hear coming from downstairs, between master and manservant, reminded him that they were guests at Wayne Manor, home of their close acquaintance, Bruce Wayne.
It had been Lois' idea to spend the weekend in Gotham.
She'd been running down leads on the reclusive Russian oil billionaire, Satirev Tenralk. The man was a complete enigma, refusing all invitations to public appearances and interviews, preferring to do his talking through representatives or media spokespeople. The Daily Planet archives had yet to unearth a single picture of Tenralk, and even Jimmy was unable to find any images through his sources at the AP or at any Reuters' news desks and archives around the globe.
Undeterred by Tenralk's no interview and no pictures policy restrictions, Lois saw her chance for an exclusive when she learned that the Russian was due to fly into Gotham to discuss the purchase of yet another energy company.
According to his wife's research, Tenralk Oil and Gas had been purchasing land, mineral and mining rights all over North America over the past three years, and they'd set their latest sights on Fisk-Haller, the company responsible for thirty-eight percent of the eastern seaboard's geothermal energy production.
Among other things, Lois was curious to know how Tenralk continued to find new sources of bio fuels for his operations, when the world's supply was supposed to be in decline, and the new buzzwords for the industry were supposed to be renewable energy and sustainability.
As far as Lois was concerned, the more mysterious Satirev Tenralk appeared to be, the more she was determined to be the one to unmask and expose him.
Clark knew first-hand that his wife's determination could be downright frightening at times, and he sometimes wondered what lengths she might have gone to, to expose Superman's secret identity, if she hadn't already known he was the man behind the cape.
Although Tenralk was Lois' story, he'd naturally come along for the ride, hoping he could get a few quotes from Bruce, on his latest charitable initiatives, and maybe Superman could show up to lend the Batman a hand in fighting crime for a couple of nights.
It wasn't to be however, as Bruce, who'd agreed to put them up for the weekend, had intercepted an emergency call from the Justice League of America, better known as the JLA.
Oliver had founded the team of super-heroes to fight crime, corporate injustice and all manner of bad guys with evil intentions, anywhere they might be lurking. He'd tried, unsuccessfully, for years to get Clark to join his crime-fighting band, only succeeding in the task a year after Clark had debuted as Superman, and then only on a part-time basis.
Clark had made it perfectly clear to Oliver that his own priorities were to Metropolis and to the world at large, and not as "Ollie's cabana boy," as Lois had euphemistically termed it.
Bruce Wayne's alter ego, Batman, had flat out refused to be a part of the group. For Bruce, nothing came before the safety of Gotham City. He was happy to act as a criminal behavioural consultant from time to time, and he was happy to pass on encrypted communiqués from the JLA to any members geographically located in close proximity, but that was it.
As far as Bruce was concerned, Batman's job was to strike fear into the hearts of Gotham's career criminals. If ordinary citizens feared him too, then his motto was simple: so be it.
Clark felt Lois stir beside him, and she turned within the circle of his warm embrace to throw one of her arms haphazardly, across his chest and neck.
As was her usual morning ritual, when they enjoyed the luxury of actually waking up together, Lois stretched out and rubbed her body erotically against his larger frame, before scattering a series of chaste kisses and licks across his naked chest and nipples.
Clark sighed happily under her leisurely ministrations, gently running his large hands through her tangle of soft, loose, chestnut brown curls. She smelled of peaches and cinnamon and that spicy, sexy, Chanel perfume she liked to wear, the one with the name that constantly eluded him.
He grinned inwardly; married life was good!
Lois greeted him with a sultry "Hi, hubby," as she raised her head to his and they shared a good morning kiss.
"Morning, beautiful," Clark returned with a lazy smile of his own.
Pulling away from the their kiss abruptly, Lois sat up straight and began sniffing the air around him.
"Clark, why do you smell like smoke?"
Grinning, Clark pulled Lois back into his arms. "While you were out chasing down your elusive billionaire story, Superman was putting out forest fires in California."
Lois twisted out of his embrace once again. "What? Was anyone hurt, are you hurt?" she asked, frantically, eyeing him for any signs of injury or distress. "Bruce didn't say anything about it."
"A few people suffered smoke inhalation and minor burns, a few broken bones," he responded solemnly. "We were lucky though, no fatalities. And hey," he went on, trying to bring a smile back to his wife's face. "I'm fire-proof, Lo, remember?"
"I know," she said, leaning in to kiss him again. "Doesn't mean I don't worry about you," she shrugged.
Snuggling down together against the sheets they swapped stories of their previous day.
"So, what happened with the Russian; did you force an interview out of him yet?"
Lois shook her head. "He's supposed to be staying at the Hamilton Hotel, but no one there will confirm if he's checked in or not, then I got a tip that he was seen leaving The Bradbury for his meeting with the Fisk-Haller people, but then I find out that that meeting has been moved to some secret location. It's like I'm chasing shadows, Clark," she complained in a rush.
"Nobody is this secretive--well, you know what I mean," Lois continued, pausing only to pat Clark's thigh in an affectionate apology. "I mean, this guy's worse than Luthor, and I don't know about you," she hastily continued, switching subjects with lightning speed. "But what I don't get about Lex is, why come back if you're not prepared to run your own company? I mean he's been back for what, eight, nine months now? What's he really up to?"
"Maybe he really did do some soul-searching, like he said," Clark answered optimistically.
Slapping his thigh and laughing derisively, Lois snorted, "Oh, come on, Smallville, you of all people can't possibly be buying that line of bull he's been handing out. He hasn't changed," she assured him. "He's up to something."
"Lois, Lex hasn't so much as run a red light since he's been back." At Lois' withering stare, Clark gave her an uncomfortable smile. "I'm not saying I trust him, Lo, just that maybe he did learn something in his years away."
Lois shook her head, flipped back the covers and jumped out of bed. "You're incredible, Smallville. After all the things we know he's done, only you would be willing to give him another chance."
"Where are you going?" Clark asked, half leaning out of the bed in a poor attempt at pulling Lois back against the mattress.
"Shower and breakfast. I'm pretty sure our moody host, Bruce, doesn't expect to us to lie around in bed all morning, and besides, I still need my story. Tenralk might still be in town, and if he is, I want my scoop."
Standing at the threshold of their connecting en-suite bathroom Lois asked playfully, "Are you coming?"
"What's in it for me?" he returned, his smile showing more teeth by the second.
Lois raised an eyebrow at him and bit at her bottom lip. "Me," she answered saucily, before darting out of sight with a laugh.
-8-
Bruce Wayne eyed the couple warily as they sat opposite him.
Lois was grinning at Clark, who'd grabbed her hand in a desperate clutch when their ride back to Gotham, Bruce's commercial helicopter, hit a small pocket of turbulence and dropped several feet in the air. The Bell 429 quickly steadied itself, but Clark was beginning to look a little green.
Aware that he could hear her over the sounds of the helicopter's engine and its rotor blades, Lois was saying something to Clark.
Bruce compensated for his lack of super-skills and read her lips easily.
"I can't believe you still get freaked out when flying in anything man-made," she'd said. "You're Superman, remember?"
Clark hadn't responded with words but had turned a sheepish grin his wife's way and gave her a shrug of his broad shoulders, as if to say, "I can't help it."
Lois smiled reassuringly at her husband and appeared to give his hand a supporting squeeze. She then reached up and straightened Clark's glasses then smoothed back a lock of his curly hair that had fallen forward into Superman's trademark S-curl.
"Don't worry; I've got you," she mouthed to him.
Clark seemed to visibly relax at his wife's soothing and Bruce scowled in dismay at the man's antics.
Here was the strongest man on the planet, a man who could literally fly to Gotham in seconds, girlishly holding his wife's hand, because he had some weird--and to Bruce's mind, inexplicable--phobia about heights he'd yet to completely overcome.
He'd known the couple for about two years now, Clark having come to Gotham in his Superman guise on the trail of his missing wife--then girlfriend--Lois Lane. Batman had been investigating rumours of a sex traffic operation within the city, and their separate searches had led them to Gotham's self-styled porn magnate, Damon Estorian.
Estorian's sex-slave operation was targeting illegal female immigrants and forcing them into prostitution, before sending them on to several major cities within the Unites States and Canada.
After following a tip to a number of Estorian owned storehouses near Gotham Docks, Batman had begun to take out a few of the sentries Estorian had posted around the series of interconnecting warehouses, when he'd heard panicked screams and shouts coming from within. Dropping the now limp guard he'd rendered unconscious aside, Batman had raced towards the sounds of chaos and encountered the red and blue hero he'd, until then, only read about.
Batman watched as Superman stood in the centre of the warehouse, casually handing off Estorian's lackeys as they attempted to attack him in waves with clubs, guns and knives. Between knocking a henchman over it appeared that Superman was looking for something specific within the run-down depot. He barely glanced at the on-coming thugs, his vision apparently diverted to other, more interesting corners of the depot as his head darted this way and that.
Not one to wait for an invite Batman had leaped in amongst the throng easily sidestepping a thug with a vicious looking blade, and stiff-arming him across the back of his neck.
"This is my town, Superman, and my party. What the hell do you think you're doing here?" he'd demanded while delivering a leg-sweep to another hapless lackey, then followed it up with swift kick to the fallen man's testicles.
"A very good friend of mine's been kidnapped," Superman answered, quickly taking in the bat costume before a man bounced off his chest. "And I believe she's either being held here, or someone here knows where she is."
"And this is your idea of an interrogation?" Batman asked while throwing a punch at an advancing heavy.
"I try not to waste my words," Superman had responded.
"I tend to agree with you on that."
Batman landed a high kick to the heavy's throat. The large man went down quickly, clutching at his throat and gasping for air. Batman was quickly behind the injured thug, grabbing him around his injured throat with his forearm before squeezing him with it.
"Talk!" Batman demanded.
"What the hell are you doing?" Superman shouted in horror as several advancing thugs stopped in their tracks, and began to retreat at the sight of the Batman torturing their buddy.
Ignoring Superman's question, Batman continued to squeeze, what little air remained, from the lackey's throat. "You said you're here to find someone, big guy, so let's see what he knows… what they all know. Who are you trying to find?" he directed at Superman.
Superman hesitated for a few seconds before quietly murmuring, "Lois Lane."
Easing the pressure slightly around the henchman's throat, Batman grabbed at his hair with his free hand and shook him. "Lois Lane; where is she, pork-chop?"
The henchman sputtered and struggled as he tried to take halting breaths.
"Cough it up, big boy," Batman cruelly urged.
"M… mm… main… of… office … war … ware … house three," he was finally able to gasp.
By the time Batman had let the battered man slump to the ground in exhaustion, Superman had disappeared in a streak of blue and red.
Not appreciating Superman's lack of gratitude or his quick exit, Batman reached into his utility belt, withdrawing and quickly operating a net-like device that shot out and encompassed those thugs still standing around, appearing half in terror, half in awe. The toughened material of the net gave them no chance of escape and would hold them until either the police came or Batman released them.
Satisfied with his work, Batman activated a cable from the arm of his suit, firing it into the rafters of the warehouse, and using it to haul himself off of the ground, swinging up and across the buildings to his destination: warehouse 3.
Arriving a few minutes behind Superman, Batman was surprised to find that not only had the alien quickly subdued a number of thugs, but he'd also had time to free his friend and had hog-tied and gagged Damon Estorian.
"Nice work," he grudgingly admitted.
"Thanks," replied a smug sounding woman.
Batman gave the lady standing next to Superman an appraising stare; she was taller than the average female, attractive, with shoulder length brown hair that was streaked with a little blond. To Batman's trained eye she appeared to be athletically well toned too. She stood with her hands on her hips and blew errant hair away from her face and hazel eyes.
"I was under the impression you were in some sort of danger," Batman enquired casually.
"It was nothing I couldn't handle," she answered brightly.
"I take it you're Lois Lane?"
"That's me. I'm an investigative journalist for the Daily Planet." Taking a step toward the costumed crusader she offered her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Batman."
Batman took her hand in an old fashioned caress, raising it to his lips and kissing the back of it chastely. "Likewise. I've read your work, Miss Lane. Consider me a fan," he charmed, releasing her hand slowly.
"I can't say I'm all for your methods, but maybe you have time for an interview?" Lois wanted to know.
Batman could easily see how Lois had garnered the status of very good friend to Superman. Her confidence and self-assured stance was incredibly appealing.
"Sure," Batman agreed, instantly smitten with the woman. "Can we ditch your chaperone though?" he joked, indicating Superman with a jerk of his thumb.
Lois sighed. "Well he's kind of a friend of mine, and I'm hoping he'll give me a ride back to Metropolis, once we open up the cells in the basement under here. Estorian's got about twenty young women and girls down there, and I promised I'd get them all out," she insisted. "Over there," she indicated a metal filing cabinet, "are details of his clients in Canada, New York, Gotham and Central City."
"I'm impressed, Miss Lane. Very nice work," Batman complimented her.
"Umm, maybe you should see about helping those women out of the cells Miss Lane mentioned?" Superman irritably suggested.
"Why don't you see to it, big guy," Batman responded smoothly.
"I thought this was your town and your party," Superman quoted back at him, his posture stiff and his arms crossed over his chest.
Batman laughed softly. "Don't leave town just yet, Miss Lane. I'll be back shortly," he promised.
He left the messy office and the pathetic looking Estorian, but not before he spared the lovely Miss Lane with a parting look, only to find an angry looking Superman whispering heatedly to her. Batman paused briefly to read his lips.
"Lois, did you even notice I was in the same room? 'Cause I can't believe you were flirting with Batman!"
What a jerk, thought Bruce.
"That's not flirting," he saw Lois was whisper back. "That's called networking and making new contacts."
Bruce chuckled at her witty rejoinder.
No wonder Superman considered Lois his very good friend, and from the looks of things, that descriptor barely scratched the surface of their relationship, he crudely surmised.
-8-
Bruce pushed thoughts of their first meeting aside. They'd all learned a lot about each other since then, even if they didn't always agree on principles or morality.
Their relationship wasn't what he'd describe as close. He respected Lois and Clark for their integrity as reporters, but he sometimes found it harder to be understanding of Superman's softly-softly methods, when a good dose of his super-strength and the application of some physical pain would do.
Despite what Bruce considered Superman's weaknesses he and Batman had worked well together more than once, and probably would again.
Besides, Lois always made any trip Superman made to Gotham as Clark Kent, too delightful not to appreciate and savour.
Too bad she was nuts about the guy.
"Hey, Bruce, I wanted to ask you something?" Lois shouted over the din of the helicopter's engines.
"What do you need?" he shouted back.
"I'm doing a side piece to my Tenralk story--once I track down the slippery little snake down," she explained.
"Okay."
"I wanted to know if you consider business aviation to be a tool to power global economic growth? Or do you think it's indulgent and un-environmental?"
An amused Bruce shook his head and answered, "You're asking me this while you enjoy being whisked back to Gotham in a helicopter?"
From next to his wife, Clark badgered, "Answer the question, Bruce."
Shrugging, Bruce answered, "Business aviation is, unfortunately, a necessary indulgence for people like myself, and it also happens to power global economic growth."
"What about the environment?" Lois questioned.
"What can I say? I feel bad about it, but there are only so many trees the Mayor of Gotham will allow me to plant. What's a guy to do?"
"That's a quote that'll go down well," Lois sarcastically suggested.
"Seriously, Lois, I do have a number of initiatives in development to curb de-forestation, green house gasses, and other dangerous emissions, but these projects take time, and very few people out there, with real money and power, are willing to be a part of it."
Bruce felt the chopper begin its descent. "This is your stop, guys. I have a meeting on the other side of the city, so we're flying on. There's a driver waiting for you on the ground floor; she knows this city better than I do, so wherever you need to go, Ashley will get you there by the quickest possible route."
"Thanks, Bruce, we really appreciate this."
"No problem, Kent. Just do me one favour though, okay? Try and keep Lois out of trouble."
"I feel like I've spent most of my life doing that," Clark quipped.
"Hey," Lois objected, scowling at both men. "I'm plenty capable of taking care of myself," she argued.
"Yes, Lois," Clark and Bruce answered in unison.
"Your environmental initiatives, Bruce; any chance I can see proof of that before we leave Gotham?" Lois asked, instantly switching her tone from playfully indignant to award winning journalist.
Bruce immediately reached into the jacket of his expensively tailored business suit and withdrew his cell phone. "Sure, Lois. I'll have a copy of the Wayne Environment Action plan waiting for you when you get down to reception," he assured her while selecting a number on his speed dial.
The 'copter landed smoothly, despite the light rain that was falling, on the helipad of Wayne Tower. Clark opened the aircraft's door and quickly jumped out, turning to offer a balancing hand to his wife as she stepped off.
"Come look us up in Metropolis some time," Lois urged as she waved goodbye to Bruce.
"Sure, and good luck chasing your story," he smiled, before offering a small wave and sliding the door shut. Within moments he was airborne again and looking down on Lois and Clark's receding figures.
He'd see them again in a few months, no doubt, either chasing down another of their crazy stories or for some other hair-brained reason.
Strange as it seemed, when he allowed himself to think about it, he was actually looking forward to it.
… to be continued …
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