Lois felt nauseas. Her stomach was a twisted knot. She was hungry and her throat was dry. She wondered how long it had been since she had last eaten something, but was at the same time relived her stomach was empty. Had it been full, she was sure she would have covered herself with vomit a while ago.
Her entire body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Her head was pounding, it hurt to swallow, her skin was feverish, her eyes were burning, and her heart seemed reluctant to beat properly.
It was far to say that she had seen better days.
She sat in the chair, still hunched forward, her eyes drawn tightly closed, the sound of her own unsteady breathing the only sound in her ears. She had sat there in silence for some time. She couldn't figure how long exactly; her mind was having a difficult time focusing. She remembered the pain; the blind, sheering pain; all consuming, filling every inch of her body. So complete. So Intense. She would have done almost anything to make it stop.
Almost.
There had been a line she had refused to cross.
"His name is Clark Kent". The words echoed through her mind over and over, like a song stuck in your head that your brain refused to release. He had asked what her husbands name was. Not once. But twice. Why? Did he know? Did he know her husbands greatest secret? A chill crept up Lois spine at the thought.
There was a sound from behind her that made Lois clinch her eyes tighter. Her heartbeat and breathing sped as she prepared her body for more of the body wrecking pain that she was sure to come. Her pulse hammered in her ears like a drum.
"His name is Clark Kent. His name is Clark Kent." She started to say softly. "His name is Clark Kent."
"I know Clark Kent is Superman." A familiar voice said from just in front of her.
Slowly and reluctantly, Lois opened her eyes.
Jeremiah was kneeling a foot in front of her, looking right into her eyes; his own emerald orbs full of compassion and pity.
The fear was suddenly gone, replaced by an all consuming rage.
If Lois were free, she may have wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed until he was still. She may have rained punches down on him until her arms were heavy and numb. She may even have gone as far as to regress to some animalistic rage and attempt to chew his face off.
Instead, she was left trashing at the restraints of her chair, snarling and hissing and cursing wildly. The only words Jeremiah was able to make out would have made a sailor blush.
He just kneeled there and listened and waited. He waited a long time. "Lois… I know." He said finally.
"I don't know what your talking about." she replied through gritted teeth; still straining at the leather straps, her fingers clawing at the space between her and his face.
"Of course you don't" he smiled. "I understand how vital a secret that must be, how hard it must be for you, as a journalist, to keep the story of the century under wraps."
"My husband is not Superman." Lois spat. "He's a staff reporter at the Daily Plant. He's from Smallville, Kansas. He's a simple farm boy!"
"And he's also from a planet called Krypton, parades around in a red cape and tights, fights bad guys, fly's, blah, blah, blah. Don't worry. I'm not going to expose him. That's not what this is about."
Lois was at once relieved and terrified. For someone to have the opportunity to expose Superman's secret and to pass it up; well, it could only be for a reason much, much worse. She tried for a change of topics.
"And here I was thinking that blowing up a research facility was statement enough…" she breathed.
Jeremiah looked at her, the slightest sliver of shame flashing through his eyes. "Lois, you need to understand." He began.
"UNDERSTAND WHAT?!" Lois screamed. "You killed three dozen innocent people! And for what. To get Superman's attention!?" She strained harder at the restraints then before.
"Lois, please." he said softly. He stood up and walked over towards the mirror. Lois watched him through furious eyes, still pulling and testing the restraints.
He looked at himself in the mirror for a moment. He was sweating. His eyes were dark circles, and crisscrossed with thin red veins. His face was clean shaven, his bright red beard gone, the skin beneath was pale. He brought his hand up to his forehead and wiped his face slow and hard. He looked as if he hadn't eaten or slept in days.
"You know… she really loved him." He began. "My wife… Lisa. She loved Superman. Not in the way you love him, to be sure. She didn't worship him either, or anything so ridiculous. But she loved what he stood for. Not so much the whole 'Truth, Justice, and American way' nonsense, but the idea of one man trying to change the world. The concept of one person doing everything in their power to try to make the world a better place… She really loved that…"
"He's the reason we moved to Metropolis. She said she wanted to live someplace safe. I actually laughed when she said that. 'Safe? Metropolis? Where every other month there's a meta-human brawl in the streets, alien invasion, dark wizard trying to conjure a gateway to hell, or super-powered gang trying to rob a bank! What's safe?' You know what she said?" He turned and faced Lois then. Her eyes still burned with fury and tears.
"She said 'No matter what comes to Metropolis, Superman will protect us.' And do you know what I told her?" He leaned forward and spoke softly. "I told her even Superman can't save everyone."
He turned away from Lois and walked in a small circle around the chair, looking around the room. "She died waiting for him to save her; cooked alive in a giant steam pot. You remember it, don't you Lois? You wrote an article about it after all."
Lois's mind was still firmly entrenched on the idea of getting her hands on her captor, but there was the faintest hint of recollection there. A steam pot? What had he meant by that?
"The fire in the brownstone?" she whispered, her anger fading slightly.
Jeremiah nodded.
"The pregnant woman." Lois breathed. "That was your wife?"
Jeremiah stopped walking and stood silently.
"Listen to me;" Lois began, the incident of a year past returning to her mind. "I was there Jeremiah. I was there, at the fire. Superman tried to save her! He did all he could…"
Jeremiah lashed out so suddenly that Lois never had time to brace for the blow. The back of his fist slammed into the side of her face and rocked her head back. Her vision swam and bright spots exploded into her view. The entire left side of her face ached. The metallic, coppery taste of blood peppered her tongue.
"Don't you dare defend him!" Jeremiah roared, his face inches from hers. "He didn't do anything for her! Or for my son! She waited for him, in the dark, in the smoke and the heat. Screaming, crying, and begging for him to save her. To save our baby! And he didn't do a damned thing for her. He let her die! He killed her! He killed them both! Your Superman!" he spat, pacing once more, barely containing his fury. "Your savior! Your hero! He flies around this planet like he's God, deciding who to save and who not to save. Who to protect and who to condemn! Who's guilty! Who's innocent! And we just cheer and applaud like helpless little sheep. We build statues and monuments of him. We sing his songs and shout his praise. We write books and watch television shows and ogle at photos. And for what!? For him to abandon us when we need him?! For him to fail at saving the ones we love! The one's we need the most!"
He was standing behind her now, looking at her in the mirror, his eyes filled with tears and darker things.
Lois turned her head slowly, and even that small movement sent a throbbing ache through her face, neck, and shoulders. She looked at him then, long and hard. No more than a day ago, she would have called him a friend, thanked him for being there for her. She would have recounted her experience at the Stangin Institute and noted that she would not have been able to make it through, had it not been for Jeremiah's help. Now, she was his prisoner. His hostage. She had been tortured and beaten by someone she had trusted just a few days before.
Emotions ebbed back and forth through her like the sea. She felt such sadness and pity for him; the pain and sorrow he must have endured at the lost of his wife and unborn child; the despair of losing not only your present, but your future as well. How such a tragedy could send nearly anyone over the edge.
But bound to a metal, chair, parts of her body still wrecked with uncontrollable spasms from repeated shocks, the pain he had in turn inflicted on her, the lives lost at the Stangin Institute, the blood now running down her cheek; if filled her with anger and thoughts of vengeance as well.
The two emotions swung like a pendulum. And sitting there, looking at him standing over her in the mirror, she was afraid of which one would win in the end.
"I know I can't beat him, Lois." He continued softly, his emotions again under control. "I know he'll save the city, one way or another. Either him, or one of those other costumed heroes. In the end, I suppose they always win. I know that there's nothing I can do to destroy Superman. For all the pain he's caused me, for all my grief, I can't do a damned thing to Superman that'll ever make up for it all. But then again… I don't have to."
He knelt again, bringing his face very close to the side of Lois, their eyes still locked in the mirror in front of them. Lois's pulse sped slightly.
"When he saves the city, you will die." He said matter-of-factly. "I am sorry it has to be you. I truly am. I can even see why he picked you. You are an amazing woman. So much life. So much spirit. So fearless and brave. I see how you could keep him so… grounded." He eyed the chair she was sitting in, looking at the wires that ran up the legs and around the arms. "It will be quick and relatively painless." he said softly, looking at her in the mirror again. "That is the best I can offer you, Lois. But the instant the power is returned to the city, the jolt will kill you. And then, it will be over. Then, I will have my revenge. I may not be able to kill Superman, but God help me, I can take his heart."
He held her gaze in the mirror for another moment before he rose to his full height, turned, and made for the door.
"You're forgetting something." Lois said before she could stop herself.
Jeremiah turned and looked at her reflection, his eyebrows raised intuitively.
"This isn't over." She said it as if it was an indisputable fact. "I'm not dead yet." She spoke softly, but her voice dripped with venom and malice.
Jeremiah smiled. "Lois, you are bound to a chair, in a sound proof room, inside walls made of lead. Psionic dampeners have been built into the ceiling. There's no phones, no tracking devices, no signals of any kind. No one knows where you are. No one will be able to find you. Not the Martian or even the detective. You are all alone, and you are completely helpless."
He looked at her in the mirror then. The left side of her face was turning purple and beginning to swell. Blood was trickling down her chin from the corner of her mouth. Her cheeks were streaked with drying tears and her eyes were puffy and red. And despite it all, Jeremiah saw something that made his blood run cold and send a chill down his spine.
He saw Lois smile.
He left the small room and closed and locked the door behind him.