.::Rule 6: Triple check your facts::.
DARE WE REVEAL OUR HEROES' IDENTITIES?
Clark Kent
This century has proven itself to be the era of heroism. In many cities across the nation, heroes are stepping up and defending their communities from the darkness that threatens to consume it. They risk their lives and their families' lives for a greater good that we can only hope to understand.
Yet we continue to beg our heroes to step out of the shadow and reveal themselves to us. We clamour for information on their identities and postulate as to who could be behind the masked avengers. Yet we never truly attempt to understand their rationale for staying hidden and out of the spotlight.
Do we hope that they'll reveal themselves because we live in an age of celebrity? Or do we hope they'll reveal themselves so that we can thank them? Worse, perhaps we want to chastise them for their mistakes?
When we look to the skies in the hopes of seeing the Blur, do we fear who he is? Or do we see him as a symbol of hope? So many questions, yet one thing is for certain we can never truly understand the motivations of our heroes.
For some of our heroes they may look to avenge a wronged past. Others might be vigilantes seeking justice. Then there are those that see it as their opportunity to share their gifts and encourage a sense of pride among citizens.
We call on the Blur to reveal himself to us, yet do we truly understand our own motivations? He should challenge us, should motivate us to better ourselves. And so, on the fateful day when the Blur reveals himself to the world, we shouldn't seek out ways to expose his identity. Through exposure we will risk those that are close him and possibly even his own life.
If he does come into the light, we need to understand his role in our world. For our heroes, masked or otherwise, should inspire us to emulate their goodness. It is a gift that must be repaid in our self-imposed ignorance and our dedication to protecting their secrets.
...:::...
The words had been on her lips for weeks; in fact she'd wanted to ask him shortly after having moved into her new apartment near the Daily Planet. But she needed to wait for the right moment, the right time.
"Smallville's too far; my apartment is just five blocks from the Planet…"
"Ben Hubbard's already taking care of the farm…"
"I can't sleep, when you're not around…"
"Move in with me…"
Whenever she would think the right moment had come, Clark would rush off to another "farm emergency" or to see a source about a story. It aggravated her to no end, but she would easily accept his explanations. Clark Kent was an open book, after all.
"It's getting late Lois, I should go…"
"You know I forgot to check on the tractor, the mechanic was supposed to come by today…"
"I think I left the stove on…"
"I just remembered there's this source I have to meet and he'll only talk to me…"
Each time Lois would bite her tongue, give a weary smile and nod. She desperately wanted this relationship to work, needed it to succeed. Each time Clark would give her a quick kiss on the lips or a peck on the cheek and would disappear out her front door or around a street corner or through the Planet's revolving door. And each time Lois would silently kick herself for her emotional weakness.
She loved him. She loved him so much that she was willing to throw caution in to the wind and ask him to move in with her.
Bound and determined one night, Lois ordered Chinese food from Clark's favourite local restaurant. She'd intended to make him a nice dinner, but thought better of it. The night needed to be perfect and that meant there could be no burnt pot roast or potatoes that were glued to the bottom of a pan.
In her romanticized version of the night she would be sitting across from Clark watching him struggle with his chopsticks. Naturally she'd end up showing him how to use them for the hundredth time, and naturally he would forget for the hundredth time (she'd secretly wondered if he always forgot on purpose). Inevitably the Chinese food would be left cold on the table, dismissed when Clark would seize her arm and draw her on to his lap. Their bodies would become a tangled mess under the dining table or on the couch or - if they made it to the bedroom- on the bed.
That was how the night should've gone.
Instead, as Lois was gathering plates from the cupboard, her cell phone vibrated in her pocket.
CKent to LLane 8:56pm| Rain check?
Lois sighed. "Figures," she said aloud, shaking her head.
LLane to CKent 8:59pm| Sure. But you'd better not stand me up tomorrow. Or I'll send the General your way.
CKent to LLane 9:04pm| I promise. I wouldn't miss it for the world.
With a satisfied grin, Lois returned her cell phone to her pocket and closed the cupboards where her dishes lay. While the dinner was ruined and her plans thwarted for the umpteenth time, there was still tomorrow.
Clark and Lois had been invited by the enigmatic Bruce Wayne to attend a charity dinner at Wayne Manor. It was the perfect opportunity for Lois to corner Bruce and secure an elusive interview. While he'd promised her an exclusive months earlier, her calls had been largely dismissed by his secretary or butler. Bruce continued to elusively thwart her attempts at every turn. She was determined to scoop the Gotham Gazette at whatever the cost.
She was certain there was a story behind the playboy exterior and tragic familial past and if anyone was going to get it out of Bruce Wayne, it would be Lois Lane. Having Clark along for the event was an added bonus. She was sure he would be able to distract the ever-intruding butler long enough for her to ask Bruce some hard-hitting questions.
In an attempt to distract herself, Lois busied herself with tasks in her room that she'd typically ignore. She began to pull out every last sock, every tattered bra, every night slip that had been disastrously thrown in to her top drawer.
The pieces she hadn't worn in years were tossed in to a corner of her room. By the time she finished her cleaning, she'd emptied an entire drawer.
Her heavy eyes could barely stay open. Exhausted, she curled on top of her bed and fell fast asleep.
...:::...
Lois stared at her watch, her heeled foot taping against the cobblestone walkway outside of Wayne Manor. Limousines and Escalades arrived one after the other and Lois watched as celebrities, politicians and financiers piled into the spacious estate.
"Lois!" Clark called out; his bowtie lay at his collar untied.
"You're late… again, Smallville!" Lois chastised. Often it felt like she should have a recording made of those words as they were often repeated when it came to Clark Kent.
"I know, I know—I'm really sorry. I just got caught up with something—."
"Back at the farm, yeah I saw your text." She pulled at the loose bowtie and began to tie it effortlessly. "You're lucky I heard someone say that Bruce hasn't arrived yet."
Clark nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose and sniffed the air, hoping that he didn't still smell of cinders and ash courtesy of a volcano that had erupted in Hawaii. "Ready?" He asked, offering his arm to Lois.
"As I'll ever be." She took his arm and allowed herself to be led into the Manor.
A servant held the door open for them and took Lois' coat. "You're expected in the ballroom," he explained motioning toward the grand room just beyond an elaborately decorated hallway.
"This place is huge," Lois whispered, suddenly feeling underdressed among the glamorous modelesque women wearing designers that she couldn't even try to name.
"Relax," Clark said, as they walked toward the ballroom. "You look absolutely gorgeous."
Surprised, Lois stopped midstride and questioned him. "How did you know that I was worried about my dress?"
"You've got a death grip on my hand." He held up their joined hands, Lois' nails digging into Clark. "And there are very few things you freak out about. Fashion is one of them."
Sheepish, Lois loosened her hold. "Sorry," she muttered. She hated it when Clark was right.
As they continued along the hallway, both marveled at the intricate detail. Arriving in the grand ballroom, Lois' breath hitched in her throat. Over three stories in height, the room sparkled with lights that reflected off of oversized mirrors that hung along each side of the room. People mingled throughout as waiters brought champagne to the guests and an orchestra filled the room with music.
"Wow."
"That is an understatement, Smallville." Both Lois and Clark were mesmerized by what was before them. Clark, having been to numerous events at the Luthor mansion, had never seen anything quite so elaborate.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," a man stepped up to a microphone, silencing the band. "I'd like to thank you for coming and if we can all welcome our host for this evening… Mr. Bruce Wayne." The room erupted into applause as Bruce entered the room; two beautiful women linked in each arm.
"Welcome friends! It's nice to see you all." Bruce took the microphone from his assistant and ran a hand through his handsomely disheveled hair. "Please drink, eat and be merry. I know I will." With a wink to his captive audience and a wave of his hand, the music started anew and couples took to the dance floor.
Lois began to move backward, away from the crowd that was beginning to gather around Bruce. Noticing this, Clark questioned her.
"Please Clark, with all those people he's barely going to give me the time of day, much less a story. I have a better idea." Grabbing Clark's hand, she pulled him into an adjoining room that many of the waiters seemed to be coming in and out of. Bypassing the servants, she effortlessly moved through the kitchen and into a service hallway.
"Lois, what are you doing?" Clark asked, pulling at her elbow.
"I'm going to find a story," she said as she turned a corner. "Are you going to help me or hinder me?"
Clark gave her a familiar look; it was one Lois had seen numerous times throughout their friendship and certainly into their partnership at the Daily Planet. It was a look that was one of disapproval, but at the same time sought to protect her.
"You're coming along, aren't ya?" Lois said with a smile, thrusting her fist into Clark's arm.
Clark followed her along the hallway, keeping his senses on alert in case someone was to come along and catch them. Lois peered into doorways and made her way along the hall, oblivious as always to potentially getting caught.
"Here, this one looks interesting." She pushed the door open further and revealed what looked to be a sitting room and office. A fire place sat at one end with a chaise next to it. Along the opposite wall was an elaborate bookcase, filled with tomes that appeared ancient. In front of a window was a beautifully carved oak desk laden with papers and files.
Lois immediately went toward the desk and began to search through the papers.
"What exactly are you looking for, Lois?" Clark asked, joining her.
"I'm not sure," she replied honestly. "But these wealthy types always have secrets they're hiding. I'm sure I'll find something hidden in these papers. Enslaved children in a third world country. Offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands. Bribery of political officials and police agencies. You never know. Have you forgotten all your problems with the Luthors?"
"I haven't forgotten Lois. But really do you think you should be going through Bruce's desk like this. Have you forgotten that he owns the Daily Planet? What if someone finds you?" He asked crossing his arms.
"That's what you're here for Smallville. You're my look out. So go and look out." She pushed him toward the door and continued to riffle through the desk.
Coming up empty handed, she moved toward the fireplace. "Now what are you doing?" Clark asked, flustered. He knew that it was only a matter of time before someone discovered them, and Lois' flair for getting herself into these situations only heightened the risk.
"Rich people always have secret passages, don't you know?" Lois pulled at a candelabra that sat on the mantle, lifted a photograph, shifted the painting. Nothing moved. "Humf." She pursed her lips and examined the room, eyes narrowing on the book shelf.
"I bet—" Before she could finish her sentence Clark's lips were on hers, engaging her in an impassioned kiss, surprising her. Her back hit the nearby chaise, tipping it sideways. In spite of Lois' muffled cries of surprise, Clark pressed on. "Clark!" She gasped, pushing him away. "What the heck?"
"Someone's coming!" He whispered urgently, pulling her closer.
"Look!" Her hand grabbed at his chin and directed his face to the direction of the fireplace. There was a visible opening on the right side. "Come on!" Removing herself from his grasp she took him by the hand and within seconds they were on the reverse side of the fireplace, hidden from view just as the door to the office swung open.
"What have you done, Lois?" Clark whispered, nervously glaring at her. This was not going to end well for them if they wound up caught.
"Shh!" She commanded, standing on her toes looking through a small peep hole in the wall. "It's that butler of Bruce's, he's looking around."
Clark moved next to Lois and pushed his glasses down his nose to use his super sight in order to see what she was seeing. True to her word, Alfred was suspiciously looking around the room, certain that something was amiss. He moved toward the desk and examined the slightly shuffled papers that lay there. Unsatisfied, he moved toward the fireplace. Lois let out a light gasp and ducked from her peep hole. Alfred pursed his lips and paused at the fireplace, cocking his head quizzically. Shaking his head, he moved toward the door and exited the room.
"That was close!" Lois declared as Clark pushed the glasses up his nose. "What the heck were you looking at?"
"There was a little crack in the wood," he lied. Satisfied with his answer, Lois turned toward the dark abyss that lay before them.
"Well we might as well have a look around."
Eyes wide, Clark shook his head. "We can't. We'll get fired if we're found."
"Clark! Seriously, you need to relax." Lois opened her purse and pulled out a small flashlight. "First of all, we're not going to get fired because we're not getting caught. Secondly, this secret passage could lead to something big and I for one am not going to pass up that possibility."
"Lois—"
"You coming, Smallville or not?" She asked, turning the flashlight on. Begrudgingly Clark mumbled in the affirmative. "That's the spirit!"
"One question though," Clark asked following her along the narrow passageway that dipped downward. "Do you always have a flashlight in your purse?"
Lois chuckled. "You know my motto: Always be prepared."
"I thought that was the Boy Scouts?"
"How about we talk about the big ole kiss you planted on me back there?" Lois said, diverting attention.
"What about it? Someone was coming!" He defended with a laugh.
"And your first instinct was to make out with me?"
"It's always my first instinct where you're concerned."
"Dirty thoughts again, Smallville?" Lois teased.
"Only sometimes. When the mood strikes."
Lois' mouth hung agape. It was rare that her boyfriend was so candid with her. "Clark Kent! Who knew?"
Clark gave Lois a sidelong glance, his mouth quirking upward. He needed to get himself in check or else Bruce was going not only find two journalists lurking in his secret passage, but two journalists—
"Oh my god!" Lois exclaimed, pulling Clark from his reverie. "What is all this?"
Clark followed Lois' line of vision and his eyes widened at the sight before him. They had wondered onto on a mezzanine that overlooked an impressive warehouse of cabinets, cars and computer equipment. It seemed as though the room hummed, the machinery illuminating the darkness of the space. The cars were unlike any he had seen before. Their size could only rival that of military style Hummers, but yet were sleek in design, painted a jet black. Surrounding the cars was a variety of weapons. Crossbows, throwing stars, batons, boomerangs, grapnels all sat on display, waiting at the ready.
"Is that…" Lois began, pointing toward the back of the warehouse at a series of thickly padded neoprene suits. "What I think it is?" Stunned, Clark could only nod.
"Bruce Wayne is—"
"The Batman," Clark finished.
...:::...
"Do you know what this means?" Lois said excitedly, as they made their way back to the ballroom. "We've got the biggest story Gotham, Metropolis, Star City… you name it, has ever seen!" Clark nodded, his mind still spinning from their discovery. "We are going to blow the Daily Planet out of the water. I bet we win a Pulitzer for this one."
"Lois—"
"How do you suppose he gets those military trucks? Those are nothing like anything I've seen on the base. Definitely not standard issue, that's for sure-"
"Lois—"
"Do you suppose he has powers like the Blur? I mean I've read about some of his saves before but none of them seem to be superhuman, you know?"
"Lois!"
Lois stopped in her tracks and turned to face Clark. "What?"
"Are you going to ask Bruce about what you found?" It was a fair question, to be sure. They didn't have photographic evidence and certainly it would just be matter of their word against his if the story went to print.
"Damn it," she cursed, biting her lip. She needed to think of a way to ensure that this story went to print and having Wayne Enterprises holding the purse strings of the Daily Planet didn't help matters. "Wait a second. The breakout at Blackgate."
Clark looked at her confused. "What about the breakout at Blackgate?"
"Remember Bruce left in a hurry? And then all of a sudden we find out that Batman saves the day."
"Coincidence," Clark challenged.
Lois planted her hands on her hips. "It's an awfully big coincidence, Smallville. Why would Gotham's dark knight be hanging around Metropolis on the very night that Bruce Wayne is hosting a party?"
"I'm not saying you're wrong Lois, just that you're taking a big risk. We don't have the proof that we need—"
"I can get the proof!"
"How?"
"We can trace back all of the Batman saves and compare it to Bruce's public appearances. It's enough to do a speculation piece at the very least. If he bites then we know we're on to something. It's worth a try, Clark."
He gave a deep sigh and looked across the ballroom where Bruce was flirting with a group of Russian supermodels. Was it possible that the billionaire playboy and he could share the same past time? There was only one way to find out.
"Leave it to me Lois. I think I have an idea."
...:::...
Clark stood on a rooftop, scanning the horizon for the elusive Batman. His long, dark jacket would occasionally catch in the wind, sending a brief chill along his spine. Horns honked in the distance and voices echoed in the darkness. The gloomy, dim lights of the city provided an easy cover for Clark as he kept his position waiting for the slightest indication that the dark knight of Gotham was near.
Then, at last, he saw the infamous call in the sky. The hazy, golden bat symbol reflected against a grey cloud. Clark seized the moment, cognizant that the Batman would soon surface.
The advantage of speed and flight on his side, Clark quickly found his target perched on the edge of an abandoned warehouse on the south side of town, a grappling hook in hand. The clamor from the docks below created an easy cover as Clark sent his body into the Batman, throwing him to the ground.
"What the hell—?" His gruff voice declared, wrestling against Clark's strength, unable to budge beneath the Kryptonian mass. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
"Actually I should probably ask you that question," Clark retorted, focusing his vision on the masked crusader. The layers of neoprene faded away as the true identity of the Batman revealed itself to Clark. "Bruce Wayne," he said simply, releasing his hold on the Gotham millionaire.
So he and Lois had been right.
Bruce leapt to his feet, his gloved hands moving toward his helmet as if to ensure that it was indeed still on his head. "How'd you-?" He glared at Clark. As realization dawned on him, Bruce snarled his lips and said, "the mild mannered reporter from the Daily Planet is Metropolis' Blur? Nice mask."
When Clark didn't react or respond to Bruce's sarcastic attack, his adversary moved toward him. "Now that you know, are you planning on making me a front page story?"
Clark crossed his arms against his chest. "I thought about it," he said honestly.
"But?"
"But nothing. I still haven't made up my mind."
"Are you bribing me?" Clark shook his head. It had never been his intention to bribe Bruce if he'd proven his and Lois' original theory.
"I'm looking for insight."
"What?" Bruce growled, growing impatient.
"Why haven't you revealed who you are to everyone?" Clark asked. "Why do you lurk in the shadows? You're one of the wealthiest men in America, you have everything you could ever want and yet here you are standing on a rooftop in the worst part of town waiting for some criminal mastermind to slip up."
"Are you—the elusive Blur— asking me why I don't reveal myself to the world?" Bruce asked, disbelieving. "You're a moron."
Clark raised his eyebrows, but was undeterred.
"You stand there and judge me?" Bruce continued. "You? The wunderkind from Smallville? The same guy who would miraculously save people and then convince everyone it was a coincidence that he was in the right place at the right time." Through his mask, Bruce's eyes glared with renewed intensity. "Yeah that's right. I looked into you. Into both of you."
"And?" Clark prompted.
"Your girlfriend's been telling her sister that she wants you to move in with her. I'm guessing she has no idea that you moonlight as Metropolis' saviour. Cause she also seems to have a bit of a crush on the Blur."
Clark's face fell at Bruce's revelation. He'd suspected it for a while, but to hear it made it seem all the more real. "How do you know all this?"
"It's like you said. I'm one of the wealthiest men in America. I'm also one hundred percent invested in my purchases and the people who work within them. I make their business my own."
"You still haven't answered my question."
Bruce narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Clark. "Why do you hide in the shadows?" When Clark didn't answer, he continued. "See that symbol up there?" He pointed toward the hazy glow of the bat against the sky. "It's not a symbol of hope. It's a symbol of fear. When the people of Gotham see it they aren't relieved, they're scared. They're scared because they know that within the shadows of this city waits some monster ready to pounce. That symbol doesn't make them feel safe, it just reaffirms their fear. Reminds them that they need to lock their doors, because if they were safe, there'd be no more Batman."
Clark lowered his eyes and considered Bruce's revelation. He'd heard about the types of criminals that tormented Gotham City and in fact had written about a few on occasion. But what he hadn't realized was what the bat symbol meant to Bruce, to his city. It certainly wasn't what he'd intended when he'd begun to leave his markings as the Blur.
"I protect my identity because I don't want the people of Gotham to see me as their protector. I don't want them to need me or call out for me in the darkness." He turned back toward the bat symbol. "I hate Gordon's calling card. To me it's just a reminder that my job isn't over. That I'll probably die before all the crime is washed clean from the streets."
Clark glanced down at the symbol that adorned his own chest. He'd never want the silver "S" of the House of El to evoke a feeling of doom and despair. He'd meant it to encourage hope and pride among the people of Metropolis.
"If you want that symbol of yours to mean more than what mine does, then you're going to need to step out from the shadows," Bruce explained. "We aren't the same and we certainly don't guard over our cities the same way." He leaned over the edge of the building at the bustle of activity on the docks. "If you'll excuse me…" With a quick shift of movement, a cord sprung free from one of Bruce's gloves and landed onto a fire escape below. He gave a curt nod and dove from the rooftop, throwing himself into the air and back into the shadows of anonymity below.
...:::...
"What's this about?" Lois asked as she slapped the folded paper on to Clark's desk.
He looked up from his computer screen, confused. "What's what?"
"This article." She pointed at his byline that was below the fold. "You didn't even talk about our suspicions on Bruce."
Clark sighed, pursing his lips and considered his next words. "I didn't think it was my place—our place to expose Bruce like that. So what if he's Batman? If we publish the story then we expose him."
"And…?"
He shook his head. "What if it was the Blur? What would you do if you stumbled upon the identity of the Blur?" He paused, careful with his next words. "What if the Blur told you who he was? I mean, who he really is."
"What do you mean? Do you think the Blur has an alter ego? A secret identity?" Lois asked, her words coming out in a rush, Clark's questions triggering a desperation to understand.
Clark tried not to let his emotions betray him. "You mean you don't think that by day he's someone completely different? Like a… banker, or a taxi driver… or something."
"I never really considered it, to be honest."
Clark gave a sheepish shrug. To Lois he was the constantly late, always disappearing mild-mannered reporter. He wanted nothing more than to tell her that he masqueraded at night as the Blur in much the same way as Bruce Wayne lived a dual existence as Batman. His mother encouraged him to come clean, offering to create a costume for him. The idea appealed to him so much that he'd had to stop himself from revealing the truth to Lois on numerous occasions.
"It's only a matter of time."
"What?" Clark asked, Lois' comment grounding him.
"I said it's only a matter of time that the Blur reveals himself to the world," she repeated. "And I want to be the one who writes his story," Lois added with a flourish.
Clark smiled at her tenacity. One day he hoped he could make that request true for her.