Challenger, Part II
Lois prepared to pound on the door for the fifth time, when Clark caught her wrist.
"Let me try a different approach," said Clark. He looked self-conscious and released her.
Down the hall of the apartment building, heads poked out of doorways, nosy neighbors curious as to what spectacle had arrived. Lois took a step back. It had been scarcely four hours since the attack on the museum, but Lois had not slowed down since.
It was after her initial round of interviews with witnesses, when she noticed the piece that clicked everything in place. On the stairs leading up to the new exhibit, was an abandoned toy, a normal one. It was red, yellow, and black, styled after soldiers of the preceding century. There was a familiarity to it, one that warranted a sudden rush of inspiration.
"How will you find Luthor?" Clark had asked.
She held the toy aloft.
"I've seen this before."
"We've all seen toys like that before, Lois. Especially when they were trying to give the exhibit a last minute makeover," said Jimmy.
"I mean I've seen this specific brand of toy," she said. She turned the toy over and pointed at a faded imprint.
"Schott?" said Clark.
"For a guy wearing glasses as thick as those, you have a good eye Clark."
"What's the connection?"
"I'll tell you on our drive."
"Our drive where?"
"City clerk's office."
In her car, with Clark clutching his hat and Jimmy stuffed in the back, Lois explained how the toys were a part of a report, one she had written a few years earlier.
"These toys were toxic?" asked Clark.
"Yep. Something in the materials was poisonous with enough exposure. There was a whole batch of kids that fell ill. A few died." Lois shuddered thinking about the hollow faces of the bereaved parents and relatives she spoke to as she did her research on that story.
"Horrible, truly horrible. Who would sell something like that?"
"Schott Toys. Owned by one Winslow Schott."
"And you think he had something to do with the attack today?"
Lois nodded. "Those toys that attacked us were the exact same models as Schott's line. Only much larger.
The only issue is that he should be in prison."
Jimmy chimed in, "How do you plan on finding him and Luthor? If this really is his scheme."
"Schott had a wife. An ex-wife now. I think she still lives in the city. If anyone has a lead on him, it would be her."
The clerk's office was a success. Mary Schott lived in a modest apartment in Bakerline. Lois looked for anything connected to Winslow Schott, but the addresses connected to his business were under new ownership and they didn't have time to go through it with a fine tooth comb.
It was on the way to the apartment that Clark had asked, "I understand that you love chasing down a lead, but why do you care about what happens to Luthor?"
Lois looked at Clark. His expression was one of genuine curiosity. She wondered if he had a cynical bone in his body.
"I think the man's a parasite and a blight on this city, but when he goes down it should be in handcuffs with the story that served his comeuppance published by yours truly at the Daily Planet. A man like Luthor deserves justice, not whatever sordid plot this is. Does that fit within your expanding worldview, Smallville?"
Clark grinned. "I think it does, Ms. Lane."
"Plus, I'm sure he's not tangled up with this whole affair. Something stinks about Schott's crime and I suspect that it's Luthor's stench."
Thus, the three intrepid reporters found themselves stonewalled at Mary Schott's doorway. Lois contemplated an approach from the fire escape, as Clark gently rapped his knuckles on the door and began to speak.
"Ms. Schott? I'm Clark Kent from the Daily Planet. I'm here with two of my companions. We would like to ask you some questions about your former husband."
Only silence replied. Lois sighed.
"Maybe she's not home," Jimmy offered.
Clark waved away Jimmy's suggestion and continued in the same even, warm voice.
"We're not here to pry ma'am. We think that what happened to your husband wasn't the full story.
This must be difficult for you, and I'm sure you've got conflicted feelings about him. But, there must be some sympathy left for him. We'd like to help set the record straight."
More silence.
Clark straightened up and backed away from the door. He looked at Lois and Jimmy with concern.
The door creaked open. Peering through it was a woman with curled brown hair and deep sunken eyes.
"I'll give you five minutes. If I like what I hear, I'll give you five more."
Mary Schott led them into a sparse, cold apartment. It lacked the identifiable markers of a life lived, save for a handful of picture frames. Lois glanced at one with a younger Mary standing next to a man with a round face and a wide, easy smile. Winslow. It was a far cry from the picture published in the Daily Planet.
They sat down in her tight living room. Lois explained the story as best she could. She debated leaving out the part about her involvement in Winslow's downfall, but Clark gave her a light nod when he noticed her hesitation. If Mary was affected by that disclosure, it did not display on her face. She sat silently, her eyes downcast.
"And you think that Winslow was involved in this attack? This kidnapping?"
"We do, Ms. Schott," said Lois. "Do you know why Luthor was targeted? Or if he had any role in this?"
Ms. Schott gave a bitter laugh.
"If only you had asked that question three years ago. Then it might be him in prison and not my husband. Former husband."
Lois shared a look with Clark.
"My Winslow loved toys. Some women find a man who never grows up to be off putting, but I found his imagination delightful. He had such a way of observing the world. It helped that he was smart too."
She stood and walked to a cabinet. She opened the drawers one by one.
"Winslow started his career as an engineer. When he decided that wasn't for him, he opened up the toy store. It did quite well for a long time."
Ms. Schott stopped rifling through the drawers. She lifted up a doll, with slender limbs and red cheeks.
"Until Luthor took interest in him. Winslow held a number of patents with automation that Luthor found valuable. There had been other attempts to acquire them. Glen Glenmorgan offered to buy them. Queen Industries from California asked about them. But, Winslow was unwilling to let his work be used by others. He sent them all packing. All, but Luthor."
"What did he do?" asked Clark.
"He cut off Winslow's suppliers for the factories. There was no more raw material for the toys. The production stopped. We were staring down bankruptcy. That's what forced Winslow to start using those disreputable sources. The ones that he claimed weren't dangerous. The ones that proved toxic.
Then you and your paper published that story. Winslow went to prison. The company went under and Luthor was able to plunder the remains."
Lois could feel her face growing red. How had she missed this?
"How come this wasn't part of my story? Why didn't anyone tell me about this side of things?"
"Luthor did it through proxies. He also had hired muscle spook the workers, promised they would all get jobs at LexCorp if they played along. Ended up laying almost all of them off anyway. A few of his thugs have come around here over the years."
Ms. Schott held the doll close. The room was quiet for a moment.
"There's something more isn't there, ma'am?" said Clark. The woman met his eyes. Lois could see how soft his expression was.
Ms. Schott nodded reluctantly.
"Something painful," said Clark.
"Our girl. Elizabeth. She got her hands on one of the tainted toys. I didn't know. I didn't."
The woman began to cry. Clark got up and knelt by her, one hand on hers. He soothed her, while Lois's anger flared. Jimmy stared at his knees.
This was the wake that followed men like Luthor, the detritus of his greed, cast off and abandoned. Lois had seen the pattern repeat again and again in her reporting, yet every attempt to finally catch the man red handed was in vain.
Eventually, Ms. Schott's sobs subsided.
"I know this is difficult, Ms. Schott, but I can promise that we will do what we can to make sure Luthor is brought to justice for this. To do that though, we need to find your husband. Is there anything at all you can tell us that would lead to his whereabouts?"
The woman considered the question for some time.
"Was there anything he was working on that could be related to these giant automatons?" asked Clark.
"His last fascination before the troubles started was the possibilities of radio signals. Winslow was curious about whether or not there was a way to remotely operate toys."
Ms. Schott stood up again. "There may be something in the back that helps you dear."
As she walked away, Lois noticed that Clark had an intense expression.
"What's the deal with you, Smallville?"
"I have a hunch." Clark stood up with a jolt. He ran to the door, grabbing his hat along the way.
"Whoa there! Where are you going?" demanded Lois.
"It might be nothing, but I've got to check it out. I'll contact you when I have more," he said as he fled the apartment.
Jimmy looked at Lois and shrugged.
"I swear if that farm boy thinks he's scooping me on this stor-."
Lois was interrupted by Ms. Schott returning with a binder, stuffed with documents.
"Luthor's cronies took most of the papers, but I managed to save a few. I don't know if anything will help, but here it is."
Lois thanked her and flipped through the worn pages. The rise and fall of a corporate domain was laid out for her. She forced herself to maintain focus, scanning for addresses.
On her fourth time through the stack, Lois noticed a discrepancy.
"Ms. Schott? Why does this address only appear on one document?"
The woman inspected it, her face transforming from confusion to remembrance.
"Ah. This was his first workshop. He rented it even before he met me. It's where he designed most of the toys in his original line."
"Was it sold?"
"Abandoned. It's in that section of Queensland Park that's supposed to be torn down."
Now it was Lois's turn to grab her coat and book it to the door, her other hand seizing Jimmy.
"Thanks for the help!"
As they hopped in her car, Jimmy finally had time to ask, "What's the plan, Ms. Lane?"
"It's time to find Luthor."
Superman stood on top of a radio mast, his cape sailing in the afternoon wind. Metropolis stretched out below, as the descending sun gleamed off of windows.
Today had been a day of firsts for Clark and he hoped he could continue that streak. He shut his eyes.
The clamor of a city on the move met his ears, the screeching of tires on asphalt, the honks of impatient drivers, fragments of conversations. Construction equipment beat out a discordant tune. Dogs barked. Babies cried. He heard the trains rumble along their tracks.
He had to hone in closer.
Superman reached past the surface level of noise to that invisible network of threads that hung over the city. Invisible signals passed through the air containing messages. Radio signals.
He realized now that the strange hum he heard during the fight against the automatons was the sound of the signal that directed them. All he needed to do was pick up on that particular strain of radio and trace it to the source.
The invisible world beckoned Superman in countless directions. He allowed himself a brief glance, his eyes adjusted to looking for them as well. They crisscrossed the city in a dense web, emanating from and entering countless buildings. This sight was another thing that Clark learned to filter in his adolescence, lest he be caught staring at sighs unseen by his peers. Superman sampled the radio waves, peaking in to news reports, music and private communications.
He heard a distinct hum. A familiar hum. His ears adjusted to the frequency. The hum cut in and out in a staccato pattern. Superman oriented himself in its direction and leapt into the air.
He had a job to do.
The building that the signal led Superman to was a humble warehouse on the outskirts of Queensland Park. It was located in a cluster of abandoned commercial structures, marked for redevelopment by the city. A casualty of the march of progress that characterized the City of Tomorrow. The hum escalated in volume as he neared the site. The windows were boarded, the doors sealed, but Superman could hear the murmurs of conversation within. He alighted upon one of the nearby rooftops and gazed in with his X-ray vision. He settled on two figures near the center of the warehouse, one seated, the other pacing incessantly. They were surrounded by large automatons. A large bank of buttons, dials and displays buzzed next to them.
"… giving you one final chance to beg Luthor. I'll merely ruin you if you beg." A voice Clark did not recognize. The pacing man was in a tweed suit with a purple and magenta pattern. He wore round, tinted glasses and had long, disheveled red hair. A faded doll was clutched in his thick hands.
There was an unpleasant scoff.
"Surely, you're joking. I thought you were third rate all those years ago and now I see even that estimation was too generous. If anyone is going to beg, it's you Mr. Schott."
The pacing man turned violently towards Luthor, stomping his foot by the chair. Superman could see that Luthor was restrained at the wrists.
"Unbelievable. The arrogance of you! You're tempting me to kill you now." Winslow jerked towards his captive.
Superman readied to leap.
Winslow relaxed. He turned to a row of mechanisms and dials beside them.
"That would be too easy. When I'm done with you Luthor, you'll be but a footnote. The Toyman will be triumphant." He began to work at the panel.
Enough was enough. The wall collapsed as Superman shouldered his way through it. The toy soldiers guarding Luthor turned towards him immediately. Winslow whipped his head towards the disturbance.
"Winslow Schott! I know why you want Luthor dead, but there's a better way. A more just solution. If you turn yourself if, we can work together to bring him to justice."
The laughter that followed grew higher and higher pitched, until it was a grotesque wheezing.
"I've already lived through the consequences of going that route. Toyman will have his revenge."
Toyman pressed a button on the panel. The warehouse rocked. Superman could hear the sound of gears shifting.
An army of toys assailed him, made up of soldiers, rocking horses that violently shuddered, teddy bears with pronounced claws and miniature tanks that fired thick blasts. He felt the thud of projectiles striking his body. Superman met the tide of toys, breaking them to pieces with each blow.
"You're ruining this!" shouted Toyman. He ran to the other side of the warehouse. A small cage rose from the floor to meet him.
As he made short work of the toys, Superman saw another one display the same energy weapon that fire upon him at the museum. Before the yellow light could discharge, he lanced out with his heat vision, bisecting the barrel. The energy distributed itself back into the toy soldier, which exploded from within.
There was a whirring noise above the warehouse. Superman tried to see the source, but he was struck by blows from all around. He would have to finish off the current threat. Superman plowed through the onslaught, as metal bent and melted and gears clattered on the ground. Smoke spilled from the tank models as their ammunition stores ignited and teddy bears leaked stuffing.
At last, Superman stood alone, save for Luthor. Toyman had escaped the room.
A voice echoed from the console of dials.
"You've forced me to speed up my plans, Superman. Luthor will pay."
"Winslow, if you can hear me, you don't have to do this."
"He brought my company down. Time for his to join it."
Superman scanned the sky for the source of the noise. Through the ceiling he could see the distant forms. Five yellow and red striped planes, with oversized wind up gears protruding from their side. They were headed towards the city center. A familiar hum emanated from the craft, the radio signal.
Toyman would have to wait. He started for the hole in the warehouse.
"Let me free you fool!" shouted Luthor.
Superman hesitated and returned to the prisoner.
"It's my bottom line that's at risk. I can attempt to disable the planes from here."
Superman wrenched the shackles from the chair. Luthor got up, rubbing his wrists.
"Don't try anythi-."
"Spare me the lecture, simpleton. Stick to the brute force and save the clever solution for me."
There was no time for a retort. Superman ran after the planes, as Luthor operated the console. He followed the planes from below, lunging from rooftop to rooftop. They were at an altitude difficult for Superman to make an accurate leap towards. If he missed, the subsequent fall would take away precious time. He was hesitant to use his heat vision as they contained a substantial payload. Plus, there was no way to know where the wreckage would crash.
Their destination was clear. LexCorp headquarters in New Troy. At the rate they were flying, Superman estimated he had under five minutes to handle them. He could move fast enough that time would be stretched out in a relative manner, but it was a more narrow winder than he desired.
His calculations were interrupted by a distant scream. One from above. He pinpointed the origin, as he saw a female figure clinging desperately to the outside of one of the planes.
Lois!
How had she gotten there? Such questions were irrelevant, as Clark watched in horror as her hands slipped and she began to plummet through the air.
Gravity loosed its hold on Superman as he bolted into the air. This was no mere leap. There was a sensation, long missed, never forgotten, a feeling of lightness. Superman flew towards Lois's falling frame. He slowed instinctively on approach, matching her speed, his arms outstretched. She was practically weightless to him, but he held her with a delicate touch.
Eyes wide with shock softened upon meeting Clark's. Lois had eyes like no one else Clark had ever seen. They had a sharp violet tint, with an intensity that could be disarming. Right now they seemed so deep he wondered if it was possible to be submerged in them.
"We really have to quit meeting like this, Ms. Lane."
Lois recalled the altitude of their reunion. Her arms locked around his neck. Clark could feel her breath on his face, her heart pounding in her chest.
"You, you're flying! You can fly?"
"So I can."
Clouds creased their hair, with the vast sprawl of Metropolis visible below them. Superman eased downwards, lowering them to a nearby building. He set Lois on the roof. Her arms took an extra beat to release.
"How did you end up on that plane?"
"I was on the trail of Winslow Schott. He's the one that kidnapped Luthor, though I suppose you know that.
We got here right after you did. There was a ramp opening up beside the warehouse, some sort of mechanical contraption. I went in for a closer look and ended up on one of the planes."
Her words spilled out, the byproduct of unresolved nerves.
"You're giving me a run for my money, Ms. Lane. You're safe now, but I've got to stop those planes from reaching LexCorp."
Superman turned and began to float away.
"Wait!" shouted Lois.
He looked back.
"I need you! I need an interview with you! For the Daily Planet."
He pretended not to notice her blush.
"When all this is over, of course," Lois added.
Superman smiled.
"It would be my pleasure Ms. Lane. Right now, I've got a job to do."
Superman soared into the sky, willing himself to fly faster after the toy planes. It was a peculiar feeling, his newfound flight. It was as though there was a new muscle, one that ran the length of his body that he could flex and shape with purpose. There was no time to learn the nuances of the ability. The planes were nearly within range of New Troy. The formation was at the edge of Queensland Park, entering the airspace over the bay.
He accelerated into the first plane, using his body as a battering ram. The explosives burst from the sparks generated by impact, an impressive conflagration wrapping around him. He felt the heat, but it did not faze him. The debris fell to the water below. Superman reckoned that there was a slight window in which he could be more cavalier with his approach, as the bay offered a safe area to have the planes and their wreckage fall. As soon as they passed over New Troy, he would have to exercise more caution.
The opening salvo triggered a defensive measure from the toy planes. They split from their tight ranks into a far looser configuration, intent on dividing his focus. The lead plane dove low to the ground, while the second climbed in altitude. The third weaved right.
The fourth plane slowed enough that it was behind Superman. The dissonant cry of a machine gun sounded off as he felt bullets pinging off of his back. Superman responded with a gaze from his heat vision, which diced the attacking craft into pieces.
He shifted directions, more clumsily than he intended, and set off after the third plane. It weaved a complex evasive maneuver, in vain as he caught up to it and tore the wings off. Schott was clearly a gifted engineer, to have forged such complex automatons. It was a shame his gift was being used in such a callous manner.
The other two planes cleared the bay and were over New Troy. He aimed upwards and punched into the clouds, hot on the tail of the second plane. On his approach, he heard the creak of metal. The bomb doors slid open, with the payload falling towards the buildings below. A distraction with calamitous consequences.
Superman pursued the bombs on their descent, detonating them prematurely with his heat vision or strikes from his fists. From the ground, he could hear shouts and screams as the people below bore witness to the aerial battle. One of the explosions struck harder than the rest, sending him careening through the air, the world a blur. Clark righted himself, as he concentrated on maintaining his position in the sky. The bombs taken care of, he rocketed forth into the underbelly of the second plane, punching through its hull. On his exit through the other side, Superman grabbed the remains and hurled them at the bay.
He scanned for the final plane. It was close to the skyline, too low to risk detonation with heat vision. LexCorp tower was only moments away. Superman angled his body towards the target and flew as fast as he could muster. His surroundings streamed by as streaks of light and color, the ticks of the clock growing long.
The plane began to shudder, the wings wobbling. It swerved recklessly back and forth. Clark no longer heard the rotor spinning nor the hum of the radio signal. It suddenly veered left, the wing clipping the struts water tower. The wing broke off, while the supports groaned and gave way. The plane was spiraling downwards, towards a crowded street. Superman could see people beginning to run, while others were frozen in place. An older man shielded his wife, while a shop owner dragged a passerby into the shelter of his storefront. A young boy stepped thoughtlessly into oncoming traffic, distracted by the danger, his mother's face the beginning of a scream.
The water tower toppled off its roof. Superman swept lower, catching it. He set it down before sprinting along the ground to the boy. He scooped up the child, depositing him on the nearby sidewalk. The plane spiraled in slow motion towards him, the bystanders moving along at a glacial pace. Superman's feet left the ground once more and he extended his hand to the oncoming craft. The metal buckled at his resistance. He allowed himself to be pushed back several feet by the impact, absorbing the energy. The plane came to a halt.
A collective gasp rippled through the people, their faces shifting from shock to joy. Clark allowed himself a breath.
The hum returned. Within the plane he heard the initiation of an ignition. Without thought, Superman ascended with the plane as far as he could make it into the sky, before the explosion erupted around him. He made it clear of the rooftops, but several windows were blown out from the blast. The cheers returned to screams as people took cover. He took care of the debris before it fell.
Superman returned to the ground and helped anyone that required assistance. The worst of the crisis had been averted. There was a change, however, in the people's faces. For all those filled with relief, there were several that looked upon him with fear. He could sense their suspicion. Was that near miss out of malice or incompetence?
Clark looked at the remains of the final plane. He thought of the disappearance and return of the signal. There was only one name that came to mind.
Toyman's warehouse was surrounded by police when Superman returned. Winslow Schott was being loaded into the back of a police wagon. He noticed Lois and Jimmy on the outskirts, with the former arguing with an officer about access to the scene.
Luthor was easy to find. He airing out his grievances to a pair of officers, demanding that he be allowed to go, while they requested that Luthor accompany them to their headquarters for an official statement. As Superman floated down to them, Luthor bade them to leave.
Clark landed across from Luthor. His green eyes bored into Clark's skull. There was no concealing the malice with which Luthor viewed Superman.
"What do you want? Have I not been subjected to enough lunacy for one day?"
"How did the police capture Schott?" asked Superman.
"It was trivial matter once I gained access to his machine. I worked out his escape route and disabled it, locking him within the tunnels below his workshop."
"You also disabled one of the planes."
"I wanted to be assured of my company's safety. There was no telling if your crude methods would prove successful."
Superman squinted his eyes.
"The plane exploded after I caught it. It nearly took out an entire block."
Luthor met his gaze.
"Ah, yes, the officers informed me of what transpired. A close call that. Perhaps it was your rough handling of the contents that triggered such an explosion."
Superman stepped closer to Luthor. He could tell the man bristled from his proximity, but Luthor did not flinch.
"I know it was you, Luthor. You nearly killed dozens."
"Quite the accusation. One that would have a hard time standing up to any scrutiny."
"I also know about your involvement in Schott's downfall."
"More allegations without proof. I welcome you to make your case though. I would love to see how you fare in court."
"Why? Why do any of this Luthor?"
A cruel smile blossomed.
"This was my city. At least before they started dreaming.
I want the rest of Metropolis to wake up from this dream. The dream of Superman. To see you for the danger that you really are.
They don't need you. Not when they have me."
Superman paused, taken aback by the venom spouted by Luthor.
"This isn't over. Metropolis is not your plaything anymore," said Superman.
He took flight, leaving Luthor to his hatred.
Lois's fingers sat on the keys of the typewriter, unmoving. The awful stirrings of a headache revealed itself as she slogged her way to the end of her article. It was difficult to feel any sense of achievement, in spite of what she uncovered. She had the exclusive scoop on Winslow Schott, his origins and his plot to destroy Luthor, but she was unable to definitively prove the connection between Luthor's dealings and Schott's fall from grace.
The paper trail was virtually nonexistent. Mary Schott was gone, her apartment abandoned with Lois tried to follow up with her for a statement. The shroud that covered all of Luthor's crimes had fallen once more.
Lois looked at the image on her desk. Jimmy's photo was the best thing to come out of all this nonsense. It captured Superman, at the first moment of flight, arms outstretched, his cape sailing behind him as he launched into the air to catch Lois. His face was the very picture of determination. There was a majesty to it that caught Lois's breath.
It didn't take much to return to the sky. The feeling of his hands on her, perfectly gentle, but with a power that could not be compared. The way the light seemed to glint off his skin. the curve of his jawline. The pools of his sapphire eyes.
"Excuse me, Lois"
She was yanked back to her desk. Clark stood next to her.
"Where have you been, Clark? So much for that hunch."
"Are you finished with your writing?"
Lois shrugged and groaned.
"I'll get there one way or another.
It's maddening. Luthor causes this entire crisis and then gets off scot-free!"
Clark tossed a small stack of papers onto her desk, which nearly sent the stacks into chaos.
"I wouldn't be so sure."
Lois skimmed the papers.
"What am I looking at here?" said Lois.
"This won't put Luthor out of business. But these are the documents connecting one of his proxies to the efforts that forced Schott to use the tainted supplies. If Luthor wants to remain in the clear, he'll have to sever ties."
Lois looked up at Clark, with his sheepish grin.
"So much for my hunch, right?" he said.
"Clark Kent, you are a wellspring of surprises."
The man in the yellow mask walked along the dim corridor, shivering at the drafts that wafted through it. He walked a well worn route, into the depths. He stopped at the penultimate door, entering a room illuminated by flat grey monitors. The man approached one of the consoles. He reached out his gloved hand and twisted the dials, one by one, setting them to their proper conditions. The central monitor twisted in grey swirls, before coalescing into a figure, obscured by shadow. The voice, low and raspy, spilled from the speakers, the electronic warble clinging to every word.
"What do you have to report?" demanded the voice from the monitor.
"Winslow Schott was arrested. His plan failed, as we predicted."
"Can he be relied upon to keep his silence?"
"We have operatives in place. Should he suffer a change of heart, he will meet a rather swift end."
"What of the weapons we provided?"
"The results are disappointing. Superman was unaffected by the lasers. He withstood their power as easily as every other obstacle we have observed so far."
"You bring me word of total failure."
"Not entirely," said the yellow mask. "There was a deviation, during the confrontation at the museum. Superman was injured. Blood was spilled, if only for a brief moment."
"The stimulus?"
"A meteorite. The sample was destroyed in the conflict, but we have acquired the documents pertaining to it. If others exist, it may prove to be his Achilles' heel."
"Use all your resources to find it. Superman is a variable that cannot remain on the field unchallenged.
We must be able to kill this Man of Steel."