Chapter 3
He watched her from two buildings away to the south, trying to get up the nerve to fly to her. Would she recognize him? Would she let on if she did? This was totally unknown territory and the best test he could face for this dual identity thing. Had he laid enough groundwork? Was his disguise as thin as he suspected it to be? The semi-darkness would help, but then there was his voice. Could he lower it enough and be consistent while having a conversation with someone as nosey, as worrisome as Lois? He had already decided to try for the accent he'd heard from Jor-El. Maybe that would help give him the distance he needed from his own identity. He'd be playing a role, nothing more.
When she started to shiver, he knew he had to make the decision to do this or not. With one last look of trepidation, he launched himself into the air.
********
Dusk was falling when Lois arrived on the rooftop. There was a slight chill in the April air but only, thankfully, an even slighter breeze. Her thin blouse surely would be enough. She fiddled with her third button. The nerve of Clark Kent! She unbuttoned a forth as she paced back and forth, her nervousness growing by the minute.
The minutes passed slowly and she looked to the skies for a caped figure. Her frustration grew as she tapped one foot on the rough concrete. "Oh, crap!" She lowered her head, reached up, and quickly buttoned again not one, but two buttons.
She waited
"Miss Lane?"
She spun around in place toward the voice, startled even though she had expected him to make an entrance just like this. He stood on the ledge, a drop-off of forty stories just inches from his heels. For a man who could fly, she guessed it wasn't a problem. The lights of the city below framed him against a darkening sky. His features were all but hidden in the twilight. She wondered briefly if he'd planned it this way.
"Hi…uh…"
"I believe you named me Superman."
She made a mental note of the huskiness of his voice. "How do you feel about that?" She winced in preparation for his possible objection to the name and took a step toward him.
"It's …fine, Miss Lane. I hope I can live up to it."
"You already have. Thank you for saving my life, by the way."
"You're welcome."
"Do you mind?" She took out her note pad and casually took another step toward the ledge.
"Not at all."
"Well, here's the drill. Who, what, when, where, and why …just let me have it."
He smiled in spite of himself. "The five W's. A reporter through and through, are you not, Miss Lane?"
"You got it. Now the 'who' is obviously … well, you. The 'what' I'm not so sure about, but I think that goes with the 'how.' Jump in here any time, big guy. I'm ready and waiting." And nervous as hell, she added in her mind, but despite that, she bravely inched her way once again toward where he stood.
"Well, since all of those tie in with the 'where,'" he saw her smile, "I will start by telling you that I am from another planet, a planet called Krypton."
"Krypton? Like the element?" She smirked, spread her arms wide and took another step. "Couldn't you come up with a more original name than that?"
"I did not name it. That it shared a name with one of your elements is merely a coincidence."
"Shared? Past tense?"
"You're very observant, Miss Lane. Yes, shared. Krypton no longer exists. I was sent here years ago."
"Then there's the 'why.' But why here?"
"There are only so many…" He had started his answer with a full thought, but she seemed to be only a few feet away from him all of a sudden. Since when did she get this close to him? Was she trying to get a better look at his face? The light was much better from this angle. He cleared his throat and struggled to continue his sentence, "uh…only so many…uh…class M planets in the 28 known inhabited galaxies." As soon as she looked down at her pad to make a notation, he jumped down from the ledge and again realigned himself against the light so his face would be in shadow once more.
"Do all the …sorry, did all the people of Krypton have your amazing powers?"
"I …no. The yellow sun gives me my powers on Earth."
"Hmm…We all saw your incredible strength. I'm assuming you're pretty invincible or you'd have been crushed under the weight of the plane. Then there's the …awesome ability to fly, but anything else?"
"All of my senses are…" He searched for a word.
"Super?" she supplied, and she saw him nod. Scratching something down on her pad again, she began to slowly circle him. "And just how good is your vision?"
Before he realized what she was up to, he turned with her until he felt the light once more on his face. Did the girl never give up? He stepped to his right to avoid letting her get between him and the brightest area of light. "I can see through just about everything, Miss Lane."
"Oh my!" Her mind raced through all the implications the word 'everything' might mean and her face showed some alarm.
"Miss Lane, I never misuse my powers."
"Good to know." She swallowed. "So you're here to do what? Save people? Patrol the skies? Fight for truth, justice and the American Way?"
"That sounds about right. Mainly, I want to give people hope."
"Hope?" She looked at him suspiciously, then she looked down at her pad once more. "You know, last week, I would have laughed at that line. But today, having been aboard the plane that you stopped from plummeting into downtown Metropolis, I must say the sight of you and that symbol on your chest gives me just that. I haven't been able to put my finger on it until now, but that's it. Hope. Everyone on that plane knew they were dead. Time did that funny thing it does in moments like that and slowed to a crawl, giving us all plenty of time to think about it too. We all knew it was the end. Today we're all alive and well, thanks to you."
"My pleasure."
After an awkward moment, the interview continued. She asked many probing questions, general and specific. He marveled at her preparation, knowing how little time she'd had. More than once he caught himself thinking with pride, "she really is good at this." Then his mind would have to snap back to the present to answer yet another question.
After almost two hours, she saw him turn his head as if listening to something far away, and flex his hands into fists. He was itching to get away from her. "Is that enough for your article?" he asked politely.
"That depends. Will I be able to talk with you again if I have any more questions?"
"Of course."
"How do I get in touch with you?" She looked down at her pad again ready to write.
"I'll be…around. I'll contact Clark Kent periodically. You can tell him if you need to talk to me."
"And just how do you know—" but she looked up again and he was gone, "Clark?"
TBC
Author's note: Cloisharley – there's more Perry to come! I think you'll enjoy him.
Anacaro – I'm not sure this story is going to go the way you're thinking there. I've already got quite a lot of this story written, so the updates will come fairly quickly for a while.
Thanks so much for the reviews! They are like music.
