Superman: Super Chapter 2, a superman fanfic

I do not own Superman, or any other D.C. character mentioned. The rest, I made up for my own story. This is a fanfic, and not for profit, so just enjoy.

SUPER

By LJ58

Laura only regained her breath after he set the old car down a few blocks from the service station outside the city that was over a hundred and fifty miles from her home. Her watch told her they had flown that distance in mere minutes. She had just enough cash left to get half a tank of gas to get into the city, and see the people she needed to see.

The director of the museum had been a bit snobbish at first, until she opened the brown paper sack she carried, and pulled out the satchel, pistol, and broken lock. When he pawed through the papers, journals, and dispatches, he almost whimpered like a child at Christmas who wasn't sure which gift to open first.

"And….there's more," he asked when he looked up at last to eye her.

She knew what he thought she looked like. A dowdy old housewife. A nobody.

She smiled smugly and nodded. "Much, much more," she told him, remembering all Clark had described for her to entice the man. "Weapons, uniforms. Various items a soldier might carry with him, and all in quite good shape," she added purposely.

"This is…..I mean, it's…Well, I believe we can take it off your hands for…"

"Before you make an offer, I wouldn't mind help with another matter," Laura smiled blandly.

"What…..What other matter," the gaunt, spectacled director of the museum asked as he looked down at the satchel as if fearing it might vanish if he let it out of his sight.

"I'd have to ask you to come outside for that. I couldn't carry it with me, so I left it in the car."

Silas Gardner didn't have a clue as to what else she might have out there. Still, he was beyond any pretenses of being not interested. This woman had just dropped the find of the century into his lap, and if she had more…?

"All right. Shall we leave this….?"

"I'll keep it with me," she smiled at him as she slid the papers back into the satchel. "We wouldn't want anything to get lost," she told him with a knowing smile as he couldn't help but stare at the satchel as she carried it out with her.

He said nothing as he followed her out of the museum, out to the parking lot, and to the oldest, and the most disreputable-looking vehicle he had seen in some time. Standing next to it was a tall, dark-haired man who was an absolute monster. He looked not unlike one of those overgrown men his son watched on wrestling.

"Ah, Mrs. Hastings," he murmured a bit anxiously, conscious of his own slight stature as they approached this tall man who looked quite powerful.

"Clark is a friend, Mr. Gardner," she told him. "Now, this is what I was speaking of," she added in the same breath. "I was hoping you could tell me who best to contact concerning how to handle it."

She went to the trunk and opened the hatch with a dull creak as she pried it up. Pulling back a burlap feed sack, she stood back and gestured.

"Dear God," the older man gasped as he stared at the gold bar. "Is it….?"

"Stamped with the CSA seal," she grinned. "And there's more where it came from."

"And….where is that," he asked anxiously, looking up at her, and then over to Clark.

"Let's just say it's someplace safe, and leave it at that," she told him.

"Oh, my, well…..yes. You should contact the state treasury department. They can best help you dispose of gold….. But there is also the historical value, and…..oh, my, Mrs. Hastings, I don't think you realize what you have here. You….."

"I have a very good idea," she told him. "And I just want to get enough to save my home. So, would this entice you enough to write me a check to go towards that," she asked, holding up the satchel."

"Ordinarily, Mrs. Hastings, I'd have to contact the museum's investors, and the board, and get a consensus, but…I think I can state categorically that we would be more than glad to be the ones to handle this find. As to remuneration, well, obviously we couldn't give you a value until we surveyed the entire find, but…I can tell you that…I would be more than fair in giving you….say, a fifty thousand dollar deposit to secure our rights to review the find at the least."

"I'll need an invoice, and a cashier's check, if you don't mind. For tax purposes, and my bank's insistence I pay them on time," she smiled as she closed the trunk. She laughed at his expression, adding, "My late husband was an accountant. He taught me a few things."

"Of course. Of course. Just come back to my office," he told her, heading back to the museum trembling with excitement.

"Your….ah, friend is trustworthy," he asked a bit anxiously once they entered the museum again, glancing back to where he still stood by the car.

"I wouldn't be here at all without him. I doubt there is anyone else on the planet I trust as much as Clark," she told him firmly.

"Ah, well…..that's good. This is….quite a find. Quite a find," he told her with genuine excitement.

"I thought you might want to see this, sir," Anna Graves told the director as she held out a small town paper for him to read.

"Local Woman Strikes Confederate Gold," he read, frowning at the dowdy woman on the front page.

"What does this have to do with our mystery man," he demanded.

"Last paragraph, sir," she told him.

"Last paragraph," he grunted, turning the page, and scanning the end the of the article.

"The site is of inestimable value to historians….."

"Farther down, sir," she pointed.

"Mrs. Hastings credits her discovery to the aid of a young man known only as Clark. He refused any credit, obviously proving he is one of the last real good Samaritans in this world, claiming he was only doing a job for a woman that took a chance on him."

"So," he frowned. "This doesn't tell us….."

"Sir, I did a little discreet checking. The woman was bankrupt. About to be evicted from her place when she suddenly takes in a nameless vagrant with no background that I could find and strikes it rich."

"I repeat, what….?"

"I also went out there a few days ago to poke around. This vagrant also happens to be wearing a blue flannel shirt described from the theft a few weeks ago," she added. "It's a tenuous link at best, but….."

"No pictures," he asked her.

"He wouldn't sit for one. Oddly enough, any camera aimed at him only got ruined film for their efforts. But he looked enough like our flying man to make me suspicious."

James Carter rose from behind his desk, his eyes grim as he grabbed the paper. "Get me a jet ready…."

"Standing by at the airstrip, sir," she told him. "Shall I have the local authorities, or Guard ready for us?

"No," he snapped. "If he can shrug off missiles, and tear jets apart, I doubt a few weekend warriors are going to bother him. We need to play this one quiet, and discrete."

"Of course, sir."

"Did the net search help," she asked as she looked over at Clark where he continued his web searches on the new wireless laptop she had bought to help him more than herself. For the past ten days, she had watched stuffy men climbing in and out of the hidden basement as they carted out the finds after they photographed every inch of the room before moving so much as a single rifle, or piece of yellowed paper.

Then the treasury people came for the gold, and by the time they gave her a percentage for the find, after taxes, of course, Bart was all but choking on his obvious envy as he could do nothing but gape as she paid off her mortgage, and padded her savings and checkings accounts well into the next century.

Then came the reporters, who insisted on seeing everything, though Clark managed to always be somewhere else most of the time, and avoided the photographers when he was around with a skill he had likely honed in his own world.

Unfortunately, the few funny books she found of his 'character' had nothing about his current extra-dimensional traveling, and so he focused on the net, but was finding it hard to pinpoint anyone of Chinese descent who was studying the use of spatial frequencies.

"Not yet. Considering the insular governments here, however, it's little wonder that not everything is immediately available…"

"What is it," she asked.

"I….I thought I heard the same sound again for a minute," he told her as he lifted his head. "It was pretty faint. Obviously far off, but….."

"Do you think it might be the same source, then?"

"It might be weak, but I know the pitch," he told her as he closed the laptop. "It's the same sound," he told her.

He started for the door, then stopped. "It's gone again," he sighed.

"If it happened twice, it'll happen again," she assured him as she flipped through the channels she watched now that she had power, and cable back on. "I'm sure if we're patient… Wait, look. This is the same man I told you about," she said, pointing at the brief cameo of an advertisement for a program later that week.

"…can potentially pierce the layers of spatial fabric that quantum physics now tells us lines our universe," the lean, Chinese man in a dark jacket was saying as he stood before a blackboard filled with seemingly arcane formulae.

"Dr. Chang Li," Clark murmured, reading the man's name beneath the screen. "Beijing University."

"That helps, right," she asked, muting the sound as the commercial went on to someone else in a tweed suit explaining the history of research into sound.

"A great deal," he said even as he frowned, and looked up.

"What now," she asked.

"A helicopter is coming in low. I think it's headed here.

"It's a government aircraft," he added as he looked back at her.

"I thought the treasury was finished assessing all the gold they carried out of here," she smiled. "God knows, I'll never spend all the money I've made off this find even after all the taxes and fees they made me pay.

"Thanks to you," she added, not mentioning that her family had been calling quite regularly in the past few days, all wanting to wish her luck, and less than subtly suggesting investments that she might wish to make.

She had already decided she was going to send each of her children a percentage of her windfall, and live off the rest herself. "Clark," she asked when he glanced up again.

"I don't think it's the Treasury."

"Oh, no. You don't think….?"

"I'll find out soon enough," he told her as the sounds of an approaching helicopter filled her ears now. How he could see and hear so far off was still nothing short of amazing to her, but she was getting used to him by now.

Especially after he helped rebuild her house, car, and fence in days after she bought the necessary materials. He could make a fortune as a handyman if he wanted. Still, she had heard of some late night exploits across the country on the news lately that told her he was far more than just a handyman.

Drunk drivers claiming they were miraculously saved by angels. A little girl lost for three days in the woods north of them suddenly found. Hikers lost in a bad snowstorm in the mountains to the west suddenly waking up at an aid station with no idea how they had gotten there. Lots of peculiar stories, and enough to tell her that Clark obviously didn't sleep any more than he ate if she was not watching.

"I…..I made something for you," she told him as he stared through the wall. "Just in case," she smiled a bit uneasily, pulling out a small bundle of cloth folded over something else. "I thought….the way you said you kept losing your shirt, and all….it couldn't hurt…."

He looked at the very realistic copy of his own costume, nd smiled. "It's very nice. I think it'd be hard to keep low-key though….."

"I was thinking of what you said before. About being who and what you are wherever you go," she said a bit quietly as the helicopter settled down just outside her main house near the barn.

"You might have a point," he told Laura. "Excuse me a moment," he said, taking the costume from her hands, and vanishing down the hall in a blur of speed. He was back in the next instant, still in his jeans and flannel shirt, but no longer holding the costume.

"I thought….?" He smiled as he pulled back the collar of his shirt, showing the expanse of blue material now covering his broad chest under the flannel shirt.

Laura grinned at him even as someone knocked on her back door.

"Who is it," she asked as they both headed toward the back door.

"Homeland Security, ma'am," the man said. "We'd like to speak to you, if we could."

"Of course," she said as she opened the door.

"And you must be Clark," the bear of a man drawled as he eyed Clark when Laura pushed the door open.

"You know my name," he asked blandly as he stood beside Laura.

"I know your face. Your name is still open to debate," the director of Homeland Security said as the woman behind him stared intently at him, obviously ready to act the moment he made the wrong move.

"My face," Clark echoed.

"We have pictures from a bar on the east coast where you dropped several armed bangers with no more effort than you used to take out three navy jets over the Atlantic."

"That was….a misunderstanding," he told him, not bothering to feign innocence. This man was obviously canny enough to know who he was. Or at least, who he thought he was.

"So you say. Why not come with us? I'm sure the President would love to hear your explanations," he told him curtly.

"Suppose I told you I can't afford to do that? That it's best if no one officially finds out who I am, or that I'm even here?" "Mister, whoever you are, whatever you are, the scenarios I've heard lately surrounding your presence are not good. Not good at all.

"You have our entire military on full alert, looking for your next attack….."

"That was not an attack," he sighed. "I told you, it was a misunderstanding. I wasn't fully in control of my abilities at the time, since I experienced….."

He let the man draw his pistol.

"Now, this might not work on you, but maybe you'd prefer you didn't get this woman shot," James growled.

"All right," Clark growled himself. "That's enough."

Before the agents could blink, they were both disarmed, and Clark dropped two shapeless lumps of metal on the kitchen table as he stepped back, and pointed to the chairs. "Sit," he ordered them.

James stared hard at the metal paperweights, but before he could make his own decision, Anna launched a potentially devastating kick at the man. James knew his agent was a skilled martial artist. The way she went down, howling as she clutched at her ankle, told him all he needed to know.

"I'll get some alcohol," Laura told the woman now sitting on the floor where she landed with a chagrined expression. "It'll help the swelling."

"Sit," Clark told James again. "And I'll try to satisfy you without starting something neither of us wants to happen."

James carefully sat down. The big man said nothing as the agent reached out to heft his crushed semi automatic.

"Realistically, there should be no way in hell you could possibly do this."

"True. Yet you know I stopped armed gunmen, and faced down your fighter jets. Why come here alone, without backup?"

"How do you know we did," Anna hissed, still holding her ankle as she sat on the floor.

He smiled thinly as he glanced down at her. "Don't worry. It's not broken. It's just a light sprain. You'll be fine in a few days."

"How do you know….?"

"Trust him, sweetie," Laura returned with alcohol and an elastic bandage for her. "Clark here is a man of many talents."

"So we have seen. I take it you dug up that buried treasure for Mrs. Hastings?"

"It was on her property," he shrugged.

"All right. We obviously can't compel you. We damn sure can't dent you," James glowered. "So just what are you willing to tell us?"

"You aren't going to believe me, but I ask you to keep an open mind until I finish."

"All right. Shoot," he said as Laura helped Anna to a chair.

"You're…..kidding," Anna finally said, being the one to speak fifteen minutes later after he had finished telling them an abbreviated version of how he had ended up on their world.

"I don't think he is," James told her. "So….You're the Man of Steel from another dimension where comic heroes are real?"

"I would think you've seen enough to convince you that I am telling you the truth," he told the man.

"So, let's say I accept your claim. How do you think it'll look if I go back to D.C., and tell my commander-in-chief that Superman crossed over from his dimension into ours? That he's real and living right here in our world now?"

"I can guess," Clark told him quietly. "However, it's not my intent to set up house here. I'm still looking for a way to get back home. And I think it's connected to a Chinese scientist's sonic experiments that may have brought me here in the first place."

"Right," Anna drawled. "Like we're going to swallow that one."

Clark sighed. "Whatever you think, all that really concerns me is trying to get back to my world. To my home."

James studied him across the table where he had to sit down after a few moments as he had spoken to him with such quiet assurance that he had found himself believing every unbelievable word. Yet he had seen, or rather experienced the man's speed and strength firsthand. He had not even seen him snatch that gun from his hand, yet he had. Just as he had seen him crush it into a lump of useless metal.

Along with Anna's favored magnum.

"Suppose I believe you," he said, holding up a hand to quiet Anna's outburst. "Just what do you expect me to do? I have people to answer to myself, and they aren't going to stop looking for you even if I went back and told them, God, Himself was here just looking around."

Clark sighed.

"I have a lead on the scientist that may have inadvertently brought me here," he told him. "I plan on going to see him very soon. If he can't help. Or is unable to immediately help me, then I'll speak with any of your superiors you want on my terms. But only on my terms."

"And what are your terms," Anna asked rather nastily after Laura had finished wrapping her ankle, and even produced an old cane for her to use.

Clark smiled. "I'm not a weapon, nor will I be used as one. However, I do want to assure you, I'm not here to hurt anyone."

"Tell that to the three pilots you downed."

"As I said, that was inadvertent. Apparently, my power levels are somewhat elevated in this dimension, and I had to readjust my control over them. Still, if they hadn't attacked me without provocation, I never would have faced them at all. I do believe I was over international waters at the time, after all."

Anna opened her mouth but said nothing as she looked at James.

"He's got us there. Still, with the current threat from extremists we're facing these days, we have to be careful," he added. "So you can perhaps understand that our military is a bit edgy when it comes to strange flying phenomena in our skies."

"Are you buying this…..?"

"Then, too, there is the matter of certain thefts in your wake," he added.

"Yes, I regret that, but…..I couldn't too well run about naked," he said. "That would have drawn even more attention than I wanted. And once I earned a few dollars, I discreetly dropped off payment for anything I 'borrowed' from people along the way."

"Hmmph," Anna snorted.

"Ease up, Agent Graves. All things considered, I think we're going to have to take his word."

"I can vouch for him," Laura said, turning from the teapot where she had made tea for them, though only she was drinking it. "Clark is an honest man, and a kind one, too.

"I happen to know he's saved….."

Clark's expression stopped her, and Laura smiled, amending her words so she finished rather lamely, "He's saved a few people who needed help right around here."

Silence fell over the small group, and James kept staring at the apparent extra-dimensional hero without saying anything. Several times he would start to speak, but only shook his head. Anna merely fumed, obviously not liking the situation at all.

Which was when his cell rang.

The shrill tone startled the three of them, though Clark didn't react. James smiled ruefully, then pulled out the cell phone, saying needlessly, "It's for me.

"Carter," he spoke brusquely as he answered the phone.

"What? When? Are you certain? Have we confirmation? Damn," he growled and looked at Clark. "All right. We're on our way back.

"In the meantime, evacuate the immediate area, but don't issue any statements. Say nothing. We don't want a panic. Get Douglas and the rest of our people in there with the necessary equipment, and for God's sake, don't let anyone in the press hear about this.

"No. No. I'm headed there now. I'm three hours out. Hopefully, I won't get there too late."

He hung up and eyed Clark.

"I don't suppose….."

"Let your agent return with your pilot. I'll carry you to Norfolk," he told him grimly.

"You heard….?"

Clark only smiled as Laura told James, "He does have very good hearing. Or didn't you ever read his stories, Agent Carter?" He rose to his feet and nodded. "All right. You know what we're facing. If you're willing to do this, we have no time to waste.

"Anna….."

"What is it, sir," she asked anxiously, levering herself to her feet with the cane, though she obviously hated the use of it.

"A homegrown terrorist cell has hidden a pocket nuke in Norfolk near the naval base. Our agent in an area mosque just sent the tip after every Muslim in the region was told to get out fast. If it goes off…"

"D.C. and most of the east coast is contaminated even if it isn't outright destroyed," she gasped in horror.

"Which means, we'd better move fast," he said, looking at Clark. "So, if you really can….."

"Let's go," Clark told him and headed for the door ahead of Anna and Laura.

"Not showing off yet," Laura asked him.

Clark chuckled, then looked down at his civilian clothes. "You're right. I'd better change, or I'll just shred these again."

He seemed to blur, and then the two agents gaped as Laura grinned at the powerfully built man in the blue and red costume with a characteristic sigil upon his broad chest now standing before them.

"You have got to be kidding me," Anna sputtered as she stared at the colorful costume, complete with a distinctive red cape.

"Just get back to the office ASAP," James told her "We may need to move to other locations. I'll be in touch."

"Ready," Clark asked him, stepping up beside the man.

"Part of me is still wondering if you aren't just delusionaaaaaaaalllllllllll," James howled as a powerful arm locked around him, and suddenly he was airborne, with the wind howling past his ears as they arched high into the sky, and turned northeast.

"Holy shit," the experienced agent exclaimed in almost childlike wonder. "You're for real!"

"That is what I've been telling you," Clark told him calmly as he headed toward the endangered city.

"I am never going to be able to explain you," he added as he tried very hard not to look at the ground far below them that swam dizzily past in such a blur he couldn't tell how fast they were going.

"I'll change back to civvies when we land. Just pass me off as an outside expert if someone asks."

"You really think you can help find the bomb in time," he asked.

"If it's not hidden inside lead, I'll find it," he told him as they began to angle downward toward a distinctive skyline James Carter knew more than passing well. If this guy was a hoax, he was a very convincing hoax. Because he knew they had just crossed over three thousand miles in less than five minutes.

"Damn, you are fast," he rasped, still sucking air into his lungs as he watched the hero blur slightly before he reappeared in denim and flannel once more, his colorful costume hidden beneath his plain façade.

"I actually kept my speed down so the air friction wouldn't endanger you," he said, heading out of the alley behind the mall where they had landed.

"Why land here," James asked as they headed toward the nearest entrance. "The naval base is ten miles south of here."

"I think the bomb is here," he told him.

"What," James gasped. "Here? In a mall?"

"I picked up some weird emanations when I scanned the city on our approach," he told him. "They might have planted more than one device, but I suspect there is definitely something here."

"All right. Lead me to it," James told him, flashing his credentials when one of the mall security guards stepped in front of them to black their passage when a metal detector went off.

"Homeland Security," the mall cop frowned at the badge. "Is something going down here," he asked in a shrill voice.

"Just keep your mouth shut, and follow us," James snapped.

"Which way," he asked Clark.

"This way," he said, going to the underground level where the crowds milled about the escalators, slowing them.

"Jesus," the mall guard was muttering. "Shouldn't we be calling someone? I mean….?"

"The experts are here, Walter," James told the man, reading his name badge. "Just follow us in case we need help clearing some area."

"Down this way," Clark told him as he led them through the crowded shopping lanes, and into a maintenance corridor.

"How does he know where to…..

"Ohmigod," Walter paled, looking all the world as if he were going to have a heart attack when Clark ripped open a locked, metal security door to expose a ticking clock attached to a bulky suitcase.

"We have less than a minute," James hissed. "I don't suppose you can name defusing bombs as one of your abilities," he asked Clark as Walker backed away, trying to decide whether to run, call for help, or pass out.

"No time," he said grimly and lifted the entire case in his arms. "There's over three hundred grams of plutonium in here. Enough to level half the city, and contaminate the entire region for centuries."

"What do we…..?

"Oh," James said as a hole appeared in the ceiling overhead as Clark just vanished.

"What the hell was that," Walter squeaked. "What….? How…..?"

"It's national security, Walter," James told him curtly, flashing his badge again. "So say nothing to anyone, and you won't spend the next few months in a very small place explaining how you can't keep your mouth shut. Understand," he demanded.

"S-S-Sure," Walter croaked, and gave up, and passed out at his feet.

James sighed, feeling rather sympathetic just then as he reached for his cell.

"Carter here. I need a full team at the Highland Mall. Now. Just get here," he barked at the confused dispatcher who still thought he was miles away. "We need a follow-up here on a potential threat. Yeah, definitely a potential bomb threat. No, it's been diffused. But I need to be sure the area is clean and ascertain if any evidence was left that might help us find the bombers. Never mind," he told the man. "Just scramble the teams. Now."

He hung up, not sure how he could have explained just how he had gotten to the mall without sounding mad. A heartbeat later, Clark stood beside him again, looking quite normal in a slightly worn shirt that looked a bit more ragged than a minute ago His thin jacket was completely gone.

"What did you….."

"I let it explode above the atmosphere. It was the safest way to handle it," Clark told him as casually as if he had just told him he liked cheese on his burgers. "I take it Walter couldn't take the excitement," he asked with a faint smile as he looked down at the man.

"That could be an understatement. I thought he was going to have a heart attack."

"He's all right. Just shocked, I suspect. His heart looks fine."

"You can tell that, too?"

"I've helped some doctors out a few times over the years," he nodded.

"So, I don't suppose….?"

"I scanned the rest of the city and the surrounding area on my way back down," he told him casually as two more security guards came down the hall. "I didn't see anything else. I believe this must have been your primary threat."

James stared at him a moment, then nodded. "Thank you," he said somberly.

Clark smiled. "I hear sirens. Maybe it would be best if I left for now."

James looked at him, then at the approaching guards who slowed when he flashed his badge once again. "Maybe you should. Still….."

"You can call me if you need anything else like this, Agent Carter. For now. I'm still working on getting home."

"All right. But….if we need you again….?"

"You know where to find me," he said, and before the guards could reach them, he vanished in a blur of speed that stirred some debris, but otherwise left no trace of his passing.

Unless you counted the hole in the roof that went right up to the sky.

Explaining that was going to be tricky.

"Homeland Security, gentleman," he told them. "I need you to cordon off this hall and keep everyone out until my people get here.

"You might want to get paramedics to check out your friend."

"What's wrong with him," the younger man asked, one hand on his baton, still eyeing his badge uncertainly.

Smart man, he thought privately as he glanced at Walter. "I'm not certain, but there may have been biologicals in the area. He was…..hallucinating right before he passed out.

"Now, get this hall cordoned off," he told them firmly as he backed away from the hall himself. He had no idea if that bomb left any radioactive residue, or not. Either way, he was going to have fun trying to explain how it exploded in space, directly over the mall, after he had found it.

"Dr. Li," the big American asked in perfect Chinese as the researcher turned to find him standing where no one should have been.

"Who are you? How did you get here?"

"Actually, Dr. Li," the big man smiled, holding up empty hands. "I believe you brought me here."

"I brought you here," the small, Chinese scientist frowned as he turned from the computer he had switched off to better hide the data he had been reviewing. "I find that difficult to believe since I don't even know you," he told the man in a tthree-piecenavy suit who looked quite immaculate. Too immaculate to have come through the security that kept him a virtual prisoner in his own laboratory.

"Maybe if I explained," Clark suggested, and stepped back as the smaller man stepped forward, an obvious attempt to gauge his intentions, and aggressiveness.

"Why don't you? Before the security forces comes to drag you off to some unpleasant little cell reserved for people that break into places they don't belong."

"That's unlikely. Now, I know that you're researching sound frequencies to pierce the spatial barriers between dimensional walls," he told him.

"Old news. And a failed experiment three years ago is hardly a source of interest today. Whoever you are…."

"I don't think the experiment you performed just twenty-three days ago was a failure."

The scientist couldn't keep from betraying his surprise as he blurted, "How did you know….?"

"Dr. Li, I believe your experiment pulled me from my dimension into yours. I was hoping you might be able to reverse the process and send me home."

"Is this some American joke," he sputtered now. "Listen…..I have been very patient, but I have no time for….."

"Dr. Li, until twenty-three days ago, I was living in another dimension. Another world quite like yours, but with obvious differences.

"Then I heard a sharply-pitched squealing sound and unexpectedly ended up here on this world. In this dimension."

"And how do you intend to prove this to me," he snorted back in turn.

"I'm not sure, but I can tell you, I heard the same sound again just nine days ago. It helped me trace you once I learned of your experiments, and what you are doing."

"Were doing. I told you, I left those experiments behind over three years ago."

"Then you're still using the same kind of high-frequency sound waves for something else," Clark persisted. "And what you did obviously opened a rift that brought me…"

"Dr. Li, who is this trespasser," a man in uniform leading two guards demanded as the door opened just then.

Clark cursed himself for being so distracted he had not been paying attention to his surroundings. He had not come to start an international incident. He had come seeking help.

"Don't shoot," Clark addressed the men in the same fluent Chinese as two rifles rose to point his way. "I'm not armed."

"You will come with us, American," the officer spat. "And you, Dr. Li, had best come, too. The captain will want to know why you are entertaining strange Americans in your lab after hours."

"I do not even know this madman," Dr. Li told him.

"Come," the officer snapped curtly, pulling a pistol to gesture them both out. "Now."

Clark sighed.

"Dr. Li, if I can prove my claims, will you at least listen to me," he asked.

"You will get your chance to prove yourself to my superiors," the officer sneered. "And you had better be convincing."

Clark sighed again.

"Doctor?"

"You do have a one-track mind," Chang Li told him grimly. "Only I doubt you're going to be in shape to prove much of anything once the lieutenant has you in his custody."

"So, you are willing to listen," he asked.

"As you wish," Chang nodded as they left the laboratory, and stepped into the starry night beyond the dimly lit building near the edge of the larger university.

"Good. Lieutenant, I admire your professionalism and dedication. Please tell your superiors that I mean your nation no harm, and only wish to speak to the doctor on a matter of personal urgency."

"You are trying my patience," the lieutenant snorted just before the American grabbed his charge, and leaped into the sky.

Right up into the sky.

And kept going.

Lt. Yung gaped as he and his men just stared into the dark sky, not even seeing a silhouette at which to aim. For nine years, he had maintained a spotless record in the ranks in service to his country. Until now, he had managed a flawless, unquestionable record.

Until now.

Now he was not sure he wasn't going mad.

Dr. Chang Li wanted to scream.

He wanted to scream very badly.

Only his breath had caught in his chest a mile back when he was literally scooped off the ground, and he had yet to catch it even as they slowed over the dark expanse he knew had to be the Pacific Ocean beneath them as they hovered in the open air.

"Wh-What are you," he rasped.

"As I said, a misplaced traveler," Clark smiled grimly. "I am not here to undermine your nation, or steal your work. I simply want to find out if it was your work that brought me here, and if it can get me home."

Dr. Li was not sure he wasn't hallucinating. He was, however, an extremely practical man.

"Whoever you are, if you can do these things… Go back and get my wife, and carry us to America. If you will do this, I will do anything you wish."

"You do not want to return to China," he frowned.

"My government has been trying to turn my research into a weapon for over three years," the scientist told him grimly. "If you saw anything on your American television, it was propaganda meant to deceive the West."

"I see," he murmured, still holding the man over the ocean, looking back the way he had come. "And will your wife cause any trouble if we go back for her? I am fast, but I would prefer not to alert your government."

"My wife was educated in London and lived in Hong Kong when it was still free. We would both prefer to live in a free society where our work is not automatically turned into weapons of destruction."

"What of your laboratory? Your work there?"

"Window dressing. I've kept my superiors at bay with false progress for three years now. I was getting desperate of late, as they have been getting quite insistent over my lack of progress. The tests you mentioned were attempts to forestall their suspicion. Still, there is nothing there of any real value. All my real work is here," he said, pointing at his head. "It's the only computer the Party cannot yet hack," he said grimly.

"You remind me of a friend of mine," Clark smiled.

"Tell me one thing, American. Do all people fly in this dimension of yours?" Clark couldn't help but chuckle at the absolute wonder in the man's voice.

"No, not everyone. But….there are some very powerful beings there."

"Incredible," Chang murmured.

"So, where do we find your wife, doctor," he asked.

"Back at the university," he smiled grimly. "The physics lab in the same building where you found me. On the top floor. Regretfully, it is also heavily guarded."

"Hmmm. Perhaps I should put you someplace safe so I can focus on getting her out without worrying about you, too."

"A wise plan. I'll write you a note so she will not be alarmed. But where will you….?"

Chang prowled the secluded Japanese beach anxiously as he counted the minutes since he had been set down. He had pulled a scrap of paper from a notebook in his lab coat pocket and written a quick note to his wife to trust the bearer. He couldn't help but start thinking of all the things that might go wrong as soon as the man left him alone on the dark, isolated beach.

First of all, he was a Chinese citizen with no papers on foreign soil. Hostile foreign soil, when it came to that.

Then he realized Alicia might be in danger if the army went after her once he had vanished, thinking she might know something regarding his work. Or his escape. Unusual as it was considering the strange man's abilities.

He wondered if the man could pull off yet another miraculous escape despite his gift of flight, and wondered what would happen if they caught him indoors, away from open skies. What would he do if they forced him to reveal where he was, and where he had come from? What would that mean for his work to date if the Party thought they could open doors to whole new worlds? Worlds to claim, and plunder.

Yet if they did open those doors, how could they manage these powerful beings the stranger claimed lived there?

Would the Party even care?

Did he? All that filled his mind just then was…..

"Chang," a soft, melodious voice called to him.

"Allie," he called back, using her pet name for his half British wife who had chosen to stay and live with him in China after Hong Kong had reverted to China's control.

She smiled hugely and ran across the beach to him. "You will not believe it. The man you sent…"

"I know. He flies. He is from another dimension, and….."

"He does more than fly," she told him. "He tore the bars from my window apart as if he only snapped twigs. He set fire to the dangerous work we left behind with only his eyes. He is…..a superman!"

"Super….man," Chang murmured as the big man approached them from where he had landed, setting his wife down to give them a moment.

He shook his head. "It cannot be," he frowned, looking hard at the man before him.

"I try not to flaunt the cape," he told the doctor, having overheard them, and realizing what the man's surprised discernment was as he eyed him anew. "It would be hard to explain in this world."

"You are….a comic superhero? Yet….You are real?"

"In my world, which is quite real, heroes are the norm," he told the couple.

"A dimension of real heroes? Of…..super humans," Alicia Li exclaimed. "Wondrous. Yet how did you come to this world? Chang's device was not meant to….."

"Later. We should leave before someone tracks us here," Chang told her anxiously. "For surely even you can be tracked by radar," he asked.

"It depends on how slow I'm moving. And to keep you safe, I'll have to go slower than usual," he told them. "Still, if we stay low, we can keep under most radar," he told them.

"You will take us to America," Alicia asked.

"Yes. I believe I have a place where you can stay for now until you can gain sanctuary."

"I still do not know how our work can aid you, or how it could have brought you here, but if it is possible, we will do whatever we can for you," Chang told him solemnly.

"I appreciate that," he told him and stepped closer to the couple.

"Just hold tight, and we'll be in America in no time at all," he promised as he lifted them up in his arms.

"Free," Chang murmured. "We are finally free."

Then they were airborne again and headed due east across the ocean just a few feet from the waves that moved below them. They moved so fast, the water itself was a blur, and several times Clark angled away from ships he spotted along the way. Then he was over the west coast of America and headed inland.

"Incredible," Alicia said as she glanced at her luminous watch. "It's only been twenty minutes, and we are already in America."

"I had to travel slower than usual to keep from hurting you," Clark told them.

"Of course. Air friction at any high rate of speed would be enough to rip the flesh from our bones, if not cook us," Chang realized. "Yet you are able to survive higher rates of speed?"

"Here we are," he told them, ignoring the question as he slowed, and landed near a large barn just behind a dark house.

"We will be safe here," Alicia asked him as she tested her trembling legs once they were set down again.

"Yes. I've been staying here myself, and I'm sure the woman that lives here won't mind you staying until I can contact someone in the government to help you gain asylum. In the meantime, we need to discuss your work, Dr. Li," he added as he led them to the back door of the house.

"Of course. Of course. Although, to be honest, I am still at a loss to understand how it did what you think it did."

"You really are full of surprises," James said as he turned from his car to stare at Clark, the latter now clad in a modest suit.

"So I've been told."

"You wouldn't happen to know why the Chinese are screaming at the White House this week, would you? Something about susuperweapons and secret experiments being conducted on their shores?"

"I do need to speak with you about something related," Clark admitted.

"Get in. You can brief me on the way to White House. I'm supposed to be getting briefed on the entire fiasco myself, so I can at least get some firsthand Intel before I show up."

Clark climbed into the passenger seat after a moment's thought, and buckled his seat belt as James climbed in, and eyed him.

"It is the law here, too, isn't it," he asked as James slowly buckled his lap belt.

"So it is. Now, what's the scoop, as you reporters like to say."

"Not in some time," Clark smiled faintly.

"Right," he nodded, not bothering to admit he had been studying his kid's comics of late. Especially concerning a certain Kryptonian he had never really paid much attention to as a kid. He was more the intellectual type that favored detectives like Holmes, or Borroughs' creations.

It truly worried him if this guy really could do half the things the costumed hero in the comics could do. Especially since they didn't have any magic, or Kryptonite readily available. Apparently, they were the only things that could even slow this guy down if he got down to business.

"So? China," James asked, shaking off his own grim musings.

"Right. I tracked down Chang Li, and his wife. Scientists that were being forced to use their research on sonic theory to create a weapon. It's my belief this weapon somehow opened a rift to my world, and pulled me through when he tested it. It is my hope, however, it can do it again in reverse and send me home. That's only part of the problem."

"Only part?"

"Yes. The Li's felt the potential weapon was….immoral, and so were using smoke and mirrors, scientifically speaking, to try to stall their own government, and military. Still, whatever they did use a month ago was apparently enough to get me here. That implies some very serious power, and that isn't good. When I went there to speak to them about getting home, they asked me for asylum. So I brought them back with me."

James groaned.

"You know, I've been dancing around you since we first found you at Mrs. Hastings' place. So far, we've managed to write you off as a hallucination to those outside the Department.

"But, now, I'm going to have to ask you accompany me to see the President. Only you can explain this, and how serious it is for all of us."

Clark sat quietly beside him for a moment, then nodded. "All right, fair enough. If I do, though, I'd ask if you do what you can for the Li's?"

"Even if they can't help you get home," he asked.

"Even if," Clark nodded as he answered without hesitation.

"All right. I can't make those kinds of promises, but I'll do whatever I can to help them get asylum. His academic standing should help, of course," he added. "Li is a big name in almost any scientific arena. So, where have you stashed them?"

"Laura's looking after them just now."

"Naturally. Taken a liking to that woman, haven't you?"

"She reminds me of my own mother."

"I didn't think you knew your mother. Sent to Earth as a baby, and all that."

"Been reading up on me," Clark asked with a tight smile. "Anyway, you should know I consider myself quite human, having been raised by the Kents on my world. And Martha Kent is the nicest woman you'd ever meet. That is the mother I was speaking of, Agent Carter."

"Ah, right. I guess I missed that part of the storyline. I've been focused on….."

"I can guess. I'm really not here to hurt anyone, though. Or take over any governments. I just want to get home. My wife is going to be madder than hell as it is about now."

"That would be….the reporter?"

"Lois," he chuckled. "She's quite a handful, but she's less than understanding about things like this."

"Okay, I can see that. Here we are," he said, pulling up to the gate outside a very familiar building.

"Who's with you, sir?"

"Top secret, Sgt. Baker," he told the Marine who eyed Clark after looking at his identification. "You didn't even see him. Understand?"

"Yes, sir, Colonel Carter," he saluted and gestured for the sentry to open the gate.

"Colonel?"

"It's an old rank, but I still hold it in the office I occupy now," James told him.

Clark nodded.

"You want to address the President first," Clark asked as they pulled up in front of the gleaming, white building behind several dark sedans, and a long limousine. "Or shall I?"

"I think I'd better introduce you, Clark. Just don't expect to be accepted right off the bat."

"I'm getting used to that here," he sighed.

"Something tells me that you had your share of that even back on your world?"

Clark nodded. "All too often."

"Even though you're…..known there? Accepted?" "Not always accepted.

"I would imagine I scare a lot of people just because of what I am, and what I can do. Or what they think I might do. The same as I scare the same sort of people here."

James nodded. "It does worry us when someone shows up with….unlimited potential, and no apparent weaknesses to exploit."

"I have heard that argument before, too."

"And how do you answer it," James asked earnestly.

"Worried about my morality, too, Colonel Carter," he asked frankly. "You wouldn't be the first," he told him when the agent gave him a somber look.

"Let's just say, I share my government's concerns. If what I've heard is true, you literally have no limits. No weaknesses."

"Of course I do," Clark told him. "My own conscience is the most powerful restraint of all."

"Okay, I'll be sure to pull that out if you go ballistic again."

Clark said nothing to that. He wasn't sure if he were referring to the navy jets, or to one of those episodes where someone had controlled him to the detriment of those around him. Either way, he wasn't proud of those events.

"Here we go," Carter told him as he pulled up in front of the most famous building in any world.

"You're joking, right, " the short man with a thick drawl asked as he eyed the man beside James Carter who seemed quite at home despite the fact he was surrounded by four secret service agents who kept staring holes into his suit.

"Son," the President chuckled softly when James shook his head. "I've seen some strange things, even before I got high that one time. But I don't think there is anything in this world that can convince me that we have a genuine super-hero standing in the White House, offering to help kick our enemies' collective butts."

"That isn't what I'm offering, Mr. President," Clark spoke up when James seemed at a loss for words.

"Right. Of course not. Because men can't fly, and they damn sure don't tear jets apart with their bare hands. It's just not natural. Not at all. Now, if whoever put you up to this….."

"Sir, I am quite real, and the primary reason I am here is to keep things from getting…..complicated while I search for a way back to my own world," Clark told him as he stepped forward, easily brushing aside the four men as if they were paper cutouts rather than trained, deadly bodyguards sworn to protect the man in the oval office. "If you need proof," he told him. "Just ask for something reasonable, and I'll do my best to help settle your mind so we can move on from here without those….complications I would as soon avoid."

"Sir, he really does mean it. Frankly, I doubt we could have stopped him if he didn't want to be stopped, so….why not have him on our side? He's the only reason we're still on the East Coast, and not raking through radioactive rubble as it is," he added.

"If you mean that bomb threat last week," the President huffed. "My people assured me that was a bluff, and….."

"It was real. I saw the bomb myself. And if you check with your people, they'll confirm an unplanned atomic explosion above the atmosphere in this region last week at exactly the time the terrorists claimed they were going to nuke Norfolk."

"So….their missile blew up in orbit," the man shrugged.

"It was a dirty bomb, sir," James told him as Clark eyed the short man, and shook his head. "It was big enough to take out this entire area, and leave most of the coast glowing in the dark. Our….visitor carried it into orbit. Or do you honestly believe the radicals have missiles capable of reaching us now?"

The President fell silent.

"It's just damned difficult to have someone telling me they're a gosh-darn, honest to goodness funny book hero," the man blurted out, dropping into his chair. "If you expect me to believe this isn't some hoax those damnable Democrats cooked up… Okay, so you're strong," the President said evenly to his credit as Clark lifted his massive desk in one hand, and held it up over his head. "And you can…..levy….lorry…..uh, float," he choked as Clark's feet rose off the floor, and he hovered several feet in the air with the desk still in his hand. "I guess you have the….ah…..the tights, too," the President finally asked as Clark set the desk back down so gently, not even his favorite pen had rolled from its place next to a folder of bills he was ready to veto after the last Congress had tried to rip apart seven years of economic progress.

"I thought it best not to show them in public," Clark told him. "Misunderstandings aside, it could cause…..problems."

"Right," the leader of the nation drawled as he eyed him. "So, you wear the cape and everything?"

"Only when I'm working," Clark told him.

"Well, hell, son. If you don't want to clean our enemies' clocks, just what do you plan on doing for us? That's not saying I really do believe you are what you say, and you aren't trying to put one over on me with this smoke and mirrors thing. I mean, you could just be a good magician," the president chuckled with a frozen smile. "Saw one once that could make a whole plane just disappear. Poof," the short man said, throwing his hands apart dramatically.

"Sir," James groaned as Clark sighed, and glanced his way.

"Look. How am I supposed to react here, young man? You claim to be…..a superhero right out of the gosh-darned funny books, but you don't plan on doing the right thing for your country."

"I've wasted my time coming here," Clark said grimly as he addressed James. "Haven't I?"

"Look, son. Whatever you think you are, I'm sure we can find a nice, quiet place for you…."

"You know where to find me," Clark told James. "Do what you can for the Li's. I'll be around."

A heartbeat later he vanished. Or so it seemed, as he moved in what was likely near the speed of light according to what James had found when reviewing the accepted mythology of the world's most famous fictional hero. There was a rush of air, papers flew everywhere, and then he was simply gone.

"Uh, what happened," the President frowned in near typical confusion. "Where did he go?"

James sighed, and shook his head.

Not one of the four secret service agents so much as uttered a single word.

Clark went straight up and then flew back down across the continent below him. He had forgotten how fast he was moving and had lost his coat to air friction by the time he landed in the field behind the barn on Laura's place.

He took off the frayed tie, and stuffed it into a pocket as he headed for the house, hoping to speak with the two Chinese scientists at length now that he had done what he could, and felt satisfied the government likely wasn't going to come looking for him anytime soon, as they had just written him off as a stage magician.

It was almost as bad as those early days in Metropolis. No one had taken him seriously there at first either. They saw the colorful costume and thought him either a clown or a madman.

Until the bullets started bouncing, and the criminals started learning to avoid 'his' city.

Well, most of them.

"Clark," Laura smiled as she turned from hanging up laundry outside the house despite not needing to do so with her new washer and dryer that had been delivered a few weeks ago. "How did things go?"

"I'm a little surprised at how…..foolish your president seems to be despite being the leader of this nation."

"Well, there are those that think the same, or worse. Now, his father was a good man. A good President. This fellow, though. He's a bit shy in practicality if you ask me. Without his Cabinet, I doubt he would have lasted long enough to be reelected. Thankfully, though, this is his last term, and it's almost over." She shook her head, then added, "I didn't mean to drone on about politics. You must be hungry. Do you want something to eat?"

"No thank you. I wanted to speak with our guests. Hopefully, we can come up with something that might help me get back home before much longer."

His hopes were quickly struck down, though, after he spoke most of the afternoon with Chang, and his wife, reviewing what had happened to him, and how it might relate to their experiment. Things, he realized quite soon, did not look good.

"If the two events are related," Chang told him as he poured over the equations he had been writing down on endless reams of paper as he tried to solve the problem. "Then even if my sonic beam had penetrated the dimensional walls, nothing should have been able to cross over. Certainly nothing that could have survived the transition between the multi-layered spatial coordinates without being destroyed by the subatomic collisions within, and between those walls."

"Unless," Alicia pointed out the obvious, "You are speaking of an organism that is inherently invulnerable," she told him as she looked at Clark while checking figures of her own.

"I still cannot guarantee the sonic beam was the root cause in this case."

"Of course it was. What else could have caused a shift of such magnitude? Obviously, his garments were destroyed in the shift through dimensions, but his invulnerable form survived to manifest in our dimension. Still, the unsettling nature of the shift might have been what upset your equilibrium, and weakened your natural control over your abilities when you first arrived, causing the….mishaps you mentioned."

"Theory. Speculation," Chang sighed. "We have nothing to prove….."

"We have our savior," Alicia told him quietly. "He is here, husband. And there is nothing else that can explain that. Or him. Most especially since the beam was focused through the planet, and would have contacted the spatial fabric where he would have been in his world, in conjunction with ours."

"That could be possible," he murmured. "Still, it is only a theory, and even if we accept it, I cannot conceive of a way to repeat the experiment to allow him to return.

"Remember, we apparently opened the rift in his plane and brought him here.

"I have no idea how we could reopen a rift that could let him return from here."

"Perhaps it would be enough if you simply opened the rift," Clark suggested. "Knowing where and when it would open, I could travel through it purposely this time, and….."

"That is the problem," Chang told him. "According to this…..if we accept this hypothesis, then there are so many variables that we cannot guarantee that we could even open another rift, or that it would lead you back to your world. It could conceivably drop you into any one of a billion-billion or so other worlds. None of them guaranteed to be hospitable. Or habitable."

"I see," Clark murmured as he absorbed that cautionary note.

"Think about this," Chang told him. "Sound is a wave, as you know. Passing through various elements, or mediums, it can change frequencies, wavelengths, even base composition as it travels from one point to another."

"As in Doppler shifts," he nodded.

"Just so. Now, when we fired the hypersonic frequency through the earth's crust, it traveled diagonally through most of the planet, encountering countless elements that likely altered, or influenced the pattern in ways we could never begin to fully predict. By the time it penetrated the surface on the far side of the globe, allegedly opening the rift into your world, it was likely changed far beyond the frequencies that I originally test-fired. I….I simply cannot begin to guess what a repeat of such an experiment might do."

"What of the second experiment you did which I heard just after I arrived. I heard the same tonal pitch after I arrived. What were you doing then?"

"It was not so much a repeat, as a…..process of elimination. The second frequency burst was to show the party leaders the first was….inconsequential in its scope. Not that we knew about you at the time. Still, it didn't have the power, the reach of the initial test fire."

"Which is why I heard it as a faint noise, rather than a pure sound this time," he realized. "It must have carried through the air, rather than through the crust of the planet."

"Yes, exactly," Chang nodded.

"So, you don't know what could happen if you fired the frequency back through the globe?"

"No," the scientist admitted. "But as I said, the result could be so utterly random, that you might well end up…..anywhere. If you could even use it to travel extra-dimensionally as you hope"

Clark nodded. "I understand. Still, I have to try something. I have a home. Family and friends. I cannot simply ignore that. Or them."

"We shall do what we can," Alicia assured him. "But you must realize. All of our original equipment remains in China under military control. Even if we wanted to test the theory again, it would have to be operated from China in any attempt to recreate the experiment, and I do not see our party leaders being too forward in allowing such humanitarian use of what they hoped would be a doomsday weapon to hold back the West."

Clark nodded. "I do understand," he said as he rose from the table where they had covered dozens of pages with their theorems. "Still, this is all I have just now," he told them. "So, for now, I'll have to stick with it."

He walked toward the door even as Laura came in with the empty clothes basket. "How is it going," she asked with a friendly smile.

"Not too well," Alicia admitted for the silent men as Clark stepped back from the door to let her enter the house.

"Well, maybe something will come up," she told him brightly. "I have to say, faith does work wonders sometimes. It kept me going until you showed up, Clark, and I'm sure you are here for a reason beyond helping one, old widow keep her home.

"Maybe you have something to do here that you haven't yet done. Isn't that the way these kinds of things usually go?" He looked down at the woman, and smiled. "Maybe you are right, ma'am. All the same, I don't plan on giving up trying to get home. But in the meantime, I suppose I can still do some good."

"Of course you can," she told him. "Just like you've been doing all along. You didn't fool me with those late night walks," she grinned as he simply chuckled, and stepped outside to stare at the sky so much like the one he remembered.

Anna Graves cursed as she maneuvered down the hall on crutches, her foot still hurting like hell after trying to kick what felt like a brick wall. No, a steel wall. She had put her weight into that kick, too. Any harder, and she might well have broken her ankle.

"The President," she said as she opened the door to the director's office. "You took that….nut job to see the President?"

"We both thought it was the best move considering."

"It's political suicide. I happen to know the vice president thinks you're too soft for this office anyway. Giving him a lever like this one will only make it easier to oust you. Look what happened to all the other presidential favorites since the last elections."

"If I stopped to play the politics of this town instead of doing my job, Anna, we'd never get anywhere. Hell, we certainly wouldn't have stopped that terrorist bomb."

"You know what they're saying," she asked him after she paused for only a moment. "You're nuts. The stress has you slipping. There were a few hatchet men discretely suggesting you rigged the explosion in space to make this guy seem authentic. Because so far, apparently to your credit, no one has seen his long underwear in the vicinity of any miraculous rescues."

"I would think you'd appreciate his discretion, and stealth," James drawled.

"I don't trust him. Not one damn bit. This whole other-dimensional story seems a bit too….."

"Unreal?"

"Convenient," she blurted.

"Convenient," James echoed as he put his pen down, and closed the file he was working on.

"This guy, or whatever he is, shows up with these….paranormal abilities, and we just accept he's this hero from another world that just happens to mirror one of our world's comic book heroes? C'mon, James, don't you find that just a bit…..odd?"

"I find everything odd lately. But there is no denying the fact that guy can do what he does. How else would you explain it?"

"Hypnosis."

"Hypnosis?"

"I don't know. Super ESP, or something. Didn't the Russians use to have some project working on developing psychic abilities that were supposed to give similar abilities to their agents? Only they didn't call it superpowers. They called it telekinesis, levitation, and all that. Scientific possibilities. Not supermen in long underwear."

"What is it with you," he asked. "Are you that stubborn?"

Anna's expression was more than eloquent.

Finally, after a long pause, she asked, "Do you really believe he's….real? That a world full of heroes could exist, and that they could somehow…..come here?"

"After what I've seen. Experienced. Despite all common sense, and the nagging feeling I'm way out on that proverbial limb? Yes. Yes, I do. If you want to distance yourself from me, I'll understand. But I think he's real, d alienating this man could be the worse thing we could do under the circumstances. I won't say I am not concerned about his apparent abilities, but think….just think of what we could accomplish if he is real, and on our side."

"I have been," she told him finally. "Ever since I ran across this report Simon buried a few weeks ago."

"What report," he frowned.

"It concerns one of the detainees brought in by the navy a few weeks ago after a special op," she told him. "There's a lot of strangeness surrounding it, and I have to wonder if it's not connected to him," she added, handing him a file. "And I didn't give you that disk," she added as she turned toward the door, graceful despite her crutches. "Nor am I going to be here to not watch you not reading what you don't have."

"Understood, Anna. And thanks."

She said nothing as she left the room.

To Be Continued...