Chapter Fourteen: A Day in a Dual Life

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
Click!
It was lucky that Clark had super speed and felt the space between beeps as a long time so he could control his movements. In his mind, he had been up for a few minutes or so. In his youth, when he was slightly less careful, he'd smashed an alarm clock almost every other day.
He thought of the farm, far away. People were probably in the fields already. Starting to sow, harvesting crops, feeding the cattle. He could bring to mind the smell of that farm, the fresh breeze that would very often greet him in the morning, the sound of his dad driving the old tractor, his mom expecting him downstairs, Clark getting ready to work, or to go to school, depending on the time and day.
Pa.
Ma.
Their faces came into materialisation in his mind. He could see them again. Somehow, even though he was quite a bit taller than his parents, they seemed taller than him. But not in a hostile way, they made him feel safe, as if he were ten years old.
"You're snoozing, Superman."
Clark opened his eyes and sat up, looking to his side. Diana was there, in the large Superman T-shirt she wore as a sleeping gown. She looked small in the shirt, and yet somehow, though it really was quite a few sizes bigger than her, she seemed to fill it without it detracting from her femininity.
"I'm up, I'm up." He left the bed and walked into the shower, not noticing the space that was between the two places. Super speed can do that to a person.
Showering was never a very long procedure. Once done, He went out and dried himself quickly, then put on his suit. He always wore a suit to work when he could, though usually the same one.
"Diana, you really shouldn't have," said Clark, as he smelt the bacon and eggs.
"Who says it's for you?"
He chuckled and walked out of the room into the small dinning room. Which was also the kitchen, which also extended into the living room.
"You going to be alright?" she asked. She knew that he was probably fine from his fight yesterday, but she didn't mean that.
"I don't know if he will show himself so soon, he seems more calculated than that."
"I guess so. Anyway, I must go."
"Paradise Island?"
"Yes, apparently there is trouble brewing there, I'd rather be around to fend it off before it spreads."
"Call if you need me."
"Will do."
A kiss. One passionate and loving kiss. It wasn't the last one in their minds, not even a 'just in case' kiss, but it had, as always, the force of their love behind it. She dressed in her armour and left via the window. Clark turned back towards his plate: burnt bacon and slightly raw eggs. Oh well, it could've gone worse. In fact it had when she'd first wanted to cook for him and the pan caught fire. He finished his meal quickly and took off for work. He decided to take the train, as there was no rush.
The crowds milled around the train station as he entered the platform. There were trains coming almost every few minutes. Unlike Gotham, which had similar crowds, it seemed like every day was hopeful. Like everything could be alright.
"Help!"
Of course there was still crime in Metropolis.
A thief had taken a woman's bag. In a train station. A little cliché but Clark never focused on that. Cliché happens because it has happened before many times. He couldn't turn into Superman, but he could help nonetheless. The police were on their way but would lose him very soon as he was heading for the exit. If he were to trip, then he would stumble into a wall. That'll stop him and allow the police to catch him. All this he noticed in the space of less than a heartbeat. Leaving his side bag hanging in the air, Clark ran at super speed and moved the thief's foot so that it would collide with his other foot, tripping him. He then quickly returned to his bag, which hadn't moved more than a nanometer, and watch his handiwork.
The thief stumbled as one leg collided with another and face planted into the wall. No injury was sustained. Well, his nose was bleeding but not broken. A policeman was there quickly and cuffed him while the woman who was the victim of this crime retrieved her handbag.
Looks like it was going to be an OK day.

"Who is this double?!"
The office. Not just any office, not the bullpen. The office. His office. The office of Perry White, possibly the greatest editor ever, in Clark's eyes. Lois Lane was there along with Jimmy Olsen and a few other reporters. Of course Emmet was the topic. Clark had already handed in his article about the invasion. The terrible cost to human life, the damage that the people sustained. Nabbing the interviews was always more of a Lois Lane thing, and Clark was happy to keep it that way. There were more important stories to tell.
"We need an interview, if he is anything like Superman, he will give us a statement, at least. I want this story by yesterday, understood?!" Perry white barked orders. Not spoke, barked. Somehow Clark always saw him as a loud version of Pa in many ways. That same honest integrity was present in both of them. They both had codes, but while Pa wanted to hide some things and expose others, Perry White fought for full disclosure. It brought to mind again the thought that he was lying to everyone. But then again, he wasn't. No one had asked him if he knew who Superman was, and he didn't have to volunteer that information. Some things shouldn't be exposed. And besides, I am Clark Kent.
"Lois! You go and get me that interview! Clark, take Jimmy and finish the stories of the hurt and wounded. Cat! I want you to lead up the investigation in the UN, what did they know? How much was their choice? People, I want a full scale look at this invasion, it's about time we get some answers!"
They all left the office at that moment, they knew when their meeting was done. Clark went back to his cubicle and started researching. Who was hit? Which officer was in charge of evacuating the people? Firemen that were on the scene? There were so many sources, it was lucky that he loved his job, otherwise he would've been in agony by now.
"So when're we heading out?" asked Jimmy.
Jimmy. Ginger, skinny and with a boyish smile constantly on his face. Probably one of the best photographers in the building. In any building. It's what happens when someone like Lois Lane takes control of your training: nothing less than perfect.
"Right now, actually," said Clark, as he got up and took his coat with him. He took the papers that he'd printed with the names and locations of the different sources as well as their timetables so he could know when was best to get to them.
"Ok, great... How about lunch?" asked Jimmy.
"Lunch? It's barely nine o'clock."
"Well... I didn't have much of a breakfast."
"How much is not much?"
"I had a cheerio." Jimmy's face was by now the epitome of sheepishness.
"Just the one?"
"One. Single. Cheerio."
"Fine, I'll get you a sandwich downstairs."
"You're the best, Clark!"
They went over to the elevator, and got in. The elevator always made Clark feel a little funny, as he was able to see all of the particles in the air. Moving down and yet standing still. While this was a common enough thing, it was somehow still magical. Still beautiful.
They reached the lobby. It was a square hall with the Daily Planet globe made of iron in the middle of it, inside of a fountain. It wasn't a look of extravagance, but rather it looked almost humbling. This is where you are, this is where you work. We place the world on a pedestal and show you what happens in it.
They walked over to the little coffee shop that was in the lobby, a useful thing to have when you're burning the midnight oil, or when you're Jimmy Olsen.
"A BLT, please," ordered Clark, already knowing what Jimmy would order, this was not the first time.
"Coming right up," said the voice inside the cart.
"Clark, nice to see you here," said a voice that sounded very similar to Clark's.
Emmet.
Emmet was there, wearing a nice suit and glasses. His suit was black with a red tie. He had a golden ring on with a ruby on it. His face was somehow slightly altered, Clark guessed that it was done with an electro-magnetic mask, similar perhaps to one Clark himself had used a few times.
"I thought I missed you," said Emmet.
"I didn't know you had a twin, Clark," said Jimmy.
"He does not. Though we always did enjoy having fun with the seeming similarities. But as you can see, up close we are somewhat different."
"Yes... Somewhat."
"Anyway, you must not have received my message. I wanted to come along with you, see your job up close."
"Right..." said Clark. He had no idea why Emmet was doing this, but maybe this was not a bad thing, but an opportunity. This way Clark could show Emmet something. He could show Emmet the way he sees the world. The reason he, and the other Justice League members, operate the way they do.
"I'm sorry, I did not introduce myself, my name is Emmet. You must be Jimmy Olsen. I love your work."
"Thanks, just doing my part."
Clark looked at Emmet. What was his game? Times like these he wished that Bruce was here, helping him figure out a tactic.

"So the wall was shot there," pointed the foreman at a missing wall. The whole building looked like it was caving, about to collapse, "we need to destroy most of it. Not willing to take the risk of something shifting."
"How long will it take for you to rebuild the structure?" asked Clark, jotting down notes in his little notebook.
"A couple of months at least, could be longer if there is severe damage to the foundation."
"You must be pretty upset about this."
"Well, wouldn't go that far. It's my job to build, I'm just sorry I have to rebuild a perfectly good structure."
"So in a way the invasion and other such catastrophes are helping you make a living."
"No... I would've gotten work someplace else, I think. Always someone wanting to build, just a question of how long and how much. It's the homeless people I'm sad for, don't know where they go."
Jimmy was taking photos nearby, a bit of ginger hair was all that was seen from his head if one was to look from the front. His flash going off continuously.
"Sir, what would your opinion be on the way they operate, the superheroes, that is," asked Emmet, turning towards the conversation. He was with his back to them, looking at the ruined site that was under construction. His face was a mask of nonchalance. It was almost like he didn't have an agenda. And yet that was the most incriminating of things, or was Clark just being paranoid?
Is this how Bruce thinks?
"Well, I'd say that I hate cleaning up after them, but I understand the necessity. They aren't the reason these people invaded," said the foreman, and he seemed to be pleased with his answer.
"What makes you say that?" Enquired Emmet.
"Well... That's what I heard."
"From who?"
"People."
"Well, you are misinformed, sir. They invaded in order to kidnap a few superheroes. So, actually, all of this is directly their fault."
"What?"
"Not to mention that this is not the first encounter with these aliens. This could have all been avoided if someone took certain actions a few years ago."
"Emmet," said Clark, lightly pulling Emmet away from the foreman (though it looked that way, it was strong enough to topple a building) "I don't think that that theory has any evidence."
"Wait-wait-wait, is he right?" asked the foreman.
"Maybe," said Clark, "still investigating that."
"These heroes could've avoided all this years ago?!"
"No, they couldn't. That one is pretty certain."
Jimmy was looking at Clark and an understanding passed between them. They needed to go, before they were blamed for withholding information.

The journey to the shelters passed in silence. Clark couldn't risk saying anything while Jimmy was around, fearing that he would give something away. Jimmy wasn't an idiot.
They reached the shelter after a twenty minute drive. The drive through the city was odd: there were parts of the city that were brand new. Built very recently, others were under construction and some were still ruined from other fights. It took time for the city to be rebuilt and it never seemed to catch up enough to be completely repaired. It was almost like going through a museum of his fights. Or a path of his failings. Though these weren't failings, he'd taken care to put as few people in danger as possible. He'd beaten his opponents. What else could he have done? Not fight? It's not easy to just move a super powered being to a victim-free area. These weren't failings, they were trials and successful ones at that. Not all, maybe, but most.
They reached the shelter for those whose houses had been destroyed by the latest alien invasion. The hall was crowded with people, all looking for a place to sit. Some people were huddled together, strangers and families and neighbours all squished together. It was a refugee camp inside Metropolis. The notion broke Superman's heart. The great city of tomorrow, and yet here it was, housing its deserted civilians. Those he'd vowed to protect, and in doing so had destroyed their homes. He knew he couldn't do everything. He couldn't have saved their lives without there being some damage. That's why he was a reporter: so he could tell their story, raise awareness and seek truth and justice for these people who were victims of cruelty. He did everything he could do, without becoming a despot, without taking away from others.

"They should clean up after themselves!" yelled one woman, whose four-year-old son was sitting next to her, staring blankly ahead.
"So they should take care of it rather than a certified foreman?" asked Clark.
"Yes! They could rebuild the house in an instant, why keep denying us our homes? They were the ones that destroyed it!"
"Maybe, but doesn't the fact that you're alive because of them mean that you should at least try and be thankful for their help?"
"Why? I heard that it was their fault! That they allowed this alien to return? They could've dealt with him before, but Superman didn't kill him."
"Superman doesn't kill."
"And look where it's gotten us," she said with a look in her eyes that suggested fanatic hatred.
"Excuse me," said Emmet, "but I must ask: do you not think that you are being a bit hypocritical?"
"No, and who are you?"
"My name is Emmet. I was just wondering, because if Superman was to kill someone, would that make you feel safe?"
"Well, maybe, if it was an alien."
"So if he killed, you would be at ease with him being around? An alien that has the power to destroy the Earth and is willing to kill?"
"Well, maybe not."
"And yet you criticise him for not killing?"
"Well those were different situations!"
"Do you really feel that one life is better than another?"
"Yes!"
"And who gets to decide?"
She was silent for a moment, then sulked. She mumbled something about the law knowing who is bad and who is good, but Emmet's point was still there, like a great void. With a small smile he left, without saying another word.
Jimmy was helping a few people move a sofa so that an elderly couple could sit better. The kids were allowed to join as well. It was only fair in the eyes of everyone around. He also got a few good shots of the hall.
"Well, that seems to be it," said Jimmy. Clark finished his interview with the head of the Hall, and they went back into the street. It was nearing late afternoon and Jimmy, as well as Clark, was hungry. But Clark heard something. And it was not good.
"Be right back Jimmy," and off he went.
A crane was falling, probably a malfunction of some kind. It happened rarely in general, only when they were rebuilding frantically. The time constraint and pressure from the public made people push the machines too far. Clark quickly changed into his Superman suit and flew off to save the people there. Simple job: grab the crane, make sure the driver was secure, then assess the damage. The metal was ruined at the bottom, saw Clark with his telescopic vision. So he lowered the crane down, cutting it with his heat vision and thus making a stack of crane parts and finally allowing the driver to exit safely. A crowd had gathered and Superman saw Emmet and Jimmy in it. He waved and flew away. Quickly changing back into his clothes, Clark reentered the scene from a different place, thus acting like he'd been there all along.

Two articles later, he was sitting in front of his computer, Emmet just disappeared after the crane incident, and Superman couldn't conclude anything from his look around the crane for any signs of sabotage. Looked like an actual accident. Who would want to ruin a crane, anyway?
But Clark was not at ease. He was troubled. What the old lady said had hurt him, he was only trying to help, and even though he knew she wasn't quite right, it felt bad hearing her complain about him. He didn't want to admit it, but he was in a way angry at her for saying what she'd said. He had saved her, he had saved them all so many times, and whilst he knew a home was a big thing, he wanted them to understand that it was not done intentionally. He always wanted to minimise damage to everyone and their property.
He sat back, looking out of his window. It was six thirty in the evening. People were together. He could hear the families talking about their days, saying nice things and bad things. He could hear the misunderstood teenagers who wanted more time to themselves, refusing to share their feelings but wanting to at the same time. He could hear the calls made to technical assistants.
He heard a man beating his wife. That was not alright by any means. Ten seconds later he was back in his chair, the abusive husband with a few bruises of his own and soon to be in custody. He listened to the city again, and he almost felt like crying. The woman he had just saved was trying to stop the police from taking her husband away, she wants him. Says she was at fault, she wasn't pressing charges. Had Clark done something wrong?
"I have seen that face upon mine many times. It is something that troubles us all: doubt." Emmet was behind him. Superman had registered that he was coming, but he didn't care. He was too caught up with what happened with the woman he'd saved.
"She is trying to save him," said Clark, "I don't understand why, and I don't understand what I did wrong."
"You did nothing wrong, Superman, it is she that is wrong. She that is at fault here. She believes she deserves the assault. She does not know, does not dare to know, what freedom is, does not know her true place in the system. He abuses her for everything that he does not like. Why was he assaulting her?"
"She overcooked his dinner," said Clark. While a part of him knew that Emmet knew this as well, it wasn't registered. All he thought of was that Emmet may be right. "So what should I have done?" asked Clark, "let her be beaten? Try and explain it to her?"
"Sadly, no. You are not to do those things. She is to be guided by the authorities. She needed to have been educated when she was young. She should have had better governors."
"I almost knew you'd bring something like this up," Clark got up and turned to look at Emmet.
"You use anger to try and justify yourself, that is not the way to win an argument."
"There is no argument. On this planet, you will need to understand, we do not interfere with human politics. We are here only to protect the people from threats that no one can handle alone."
"You do not interfere with politics? What about all the times you called in on the so called United Nations? You were not interfering then?" Emmet spoke while he walked away from Clark and towards the window.
"They needed us, we don't answer to them," said Clark, still sitting down.
"You sure they wanted you in the manner in which you come?"
"Maybe, maybe not. But in the end we are here to help and we try and minimise our contact with the political world." Clark stood up as he spoke, and unconsciously clenched his fists, but Emmet remained facing the window. Finally he turned around, hands clasped behind his back.
"Do you not see how futile it is?" said Emmet, "your brotherhood of super powered beings are an iconic stance but also a stance against the rules you try and protect. You want them to accept you as both Superman and Clark Kent. You want the people and their governments to accept you as an aid to their problems but at the same time you undermine them by not becoming one of them. For all your posturing, you are a symbol of resistance and revolution, saying that the laws are not good enough and that they should be changed, but you do nothing about it. You raise anarchy."
"I raise hope. The system isn't perfect. That's very true. And yes I am a paradox and an oxymoron. I attempt to show that people can become the best they can be. I go beyond the law because the law must never be allowed to do what I do. It must never be allowed to break into a place without proper evidence. I am here for when the democratic system is in trouble and the only way to protect its citizens is by a conscious insertion of lawlessness, while causing the smallest harm possible. I don't just break into anyone's house, I only interrogate people that have information and I never torture. I protect people's rights to the best degree that I can. When a criminal does something that allows him to slip away, I do what I can to stop it. If I was truly to be lawless, then there would be very few criminals still alive. I stand up for principles, it is the only way to keep them going, to make sure they exist. And I hope people will follow me in preserving these principles and then render me moot. My job is to help people and then let them retire me because my job is done. That's what you don't understand: we are meant to have an end to our jobs, but we have to keep fighting until that end reaches us."
Superman stood in a half fighting stance, his suit on the verge of tearing, his tie slightly waving from a gust of wind that entered through the open window. Emmet stood exactly as he did before, but his eyes gleamed, as if he not only observed everything but also noted a few weaknesses.
"You have a very limited view of progress," said Emmet in a cold and calculated voice.
"I think you do."
They looked at each other. Superman was almost begging for a fight.
Emmet turned around and left without saying a word. Superman stayed standing for a while longer. After a few long minutes he relaxed and sat down again in front of his computer. What if he was doing things wrong?
He had no right to force others to his opinions, and as an alien he didn't really have the right to fully represent humanity. He would defend it though, and keep to his desire to not affiliate himself with any government. He had to be able to support the right, not the strong. Not a specific government.
A few texts later he was gone. To London.
To Diana.