"So, what's the scoop?" Lois asked the cop behind the police tape, unaware that someone was watching her.

"Oh Christ," the color drained from the cop's face as Lane approached. Lane loved when her reputation preceded her. It tended to make things much easier. "It was some guy calling himself Bloodsport. He pulled this rifle out of nowhere, almost like magic, took a couple of shots at the pizza place and ran off. Big guy. White and blue jumpsuit. That's it alright, that's all I know."

"What kind of a try-hard supervillain name is 'Bloodsport'?" Lane mused to herself as she scribbled her notes down.

Lane looked for Kent, who was trying to sooth some little kid. She had been a reporter a long time, and how he did it, she would never understand. She interviewed everyone, cops and criminals and victims, old men, little girls, mugging victims, heroine addicts, spree killers, people that lost everything and everyone in a house fire, and the family's of murder victims. She even managed to get a few answers out of Brainiac. But she could only do it because she detached herself from them. She asked about their problems, but did not internalize them. Did not let herself feel their pain or anger or fear. Sometimes it felt like her soul was all scar tissue.

But there was Smallville: he cared. He was upset that the girl was upset. Lane would never figure out how he did it without breaking.

"Smallville," She knew she would have to drag him away "We're leaving."

Kent looked at her, looked at the cop, said something to the girl, and headed to the cop.

"The teddy bear," Kent said pointing at a stuffed bear behind the cop "It's the little girls. It means the world to her, she got it from-"

Kent cut himself off as Lane whacked him on the shoulder. The cop seemed unmoved, but Lane raised an eyebrow and clicked her pen in the most threatening way she could, and the cop muttered something and retrieved the bear.

"You know you're scary when you do that." Kent told her, following while she strode to the car.

"You know it's pathetic when you cannot ask what you want from people."

They walked back to the car in silence.

"Sorry." She said as he unlocked the car "that was meaner than warranted."

"You covered that story from yesterday about a guy who killed his family then himself, right? You're stressed. I understand."

"How on Earth do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Care. You care about the kid's toy, you care about my feelings. You know, after a decade as a reporter, I'd expect you to stop caring so much."

"Didn't you call me a glorified sport's reporter last week?"

"Answer the question Smallville."

"I have to care. If I didn't care about people and their problems, I think I'd lose my humanity."

They sat in silence while Lois considered this.

"So what is the plan now?" Kent asked.

"I guess you've been too busy churning butter to keep up with the newest conspiracy theories. Like the kind that might attract someone to take a few shots at a pizza place."

"That Q-anon thing? You think it's related?"

"That place is where those weirdos think the Metropolis elite eat kids, so yeah, it seems related."

"Then do you think we should go to the Avenue of Tomorrow?"

"Been doing your reading."

"Have to do something while churning butter."

"Yeah, if 'Bloodsport' thinks the A-o-T is making bioweapons to mind control us all into being communists or whatever, then it seems like the next place to expect him."

Behind them, a car door shut and someone drove along behind them.

It turned out to be easier (and cheaper) to get roof access onto the Wayne Enterprise tower.

"I'm going to need to talk to my doorman." Clark mused as they walked the edge of the building.

"Yeah, fifty bucks should not be enough to get into a skyscraper."

They watched, wrote their notes on what had happened, played solitaire, and as the sun started to go down, Clark stood up and stretched.

"It's getting late." he said "I think it might be time to go."

"Yeah, I th-" Lane cut herself off.

Something was in her peripheral vision, and when she looked to see what had caught her attention, she realized someone was pointing a rifle at her.

"Can we help you?" She demanded of the man as he approached.

"Lois Lane?" the man demanded with a voice that Lane recognized as modulated. "You can tell your boyfriend to get lost, because we're going to have a little talk."

"Lois…" Clark, she knew, wanted her to use the watch that would call Superman.

"It's fine Smallville." She told him as she retrieved her voice recorder "Not the first time someone's put a gun in my face, it won't be the last."

Lois could all but hear Clark's knees knocking together. She found that in a way she admired how he felt everything: compassion, fear, courage, joy. But, now was not the time for him to be here and afraid.

Clark was reluctant, but he walked away and went through the doorway they had taken to the roof.

"Now, Bloodsport, is it?" Lane asked as she shoved the voice recorder into his face.

An hour passed of an all but incomprehensible monologue from Bloodsport. He talked about flat earth, dustification, something called 'frazildip', and 'the red shoes', Moloch, Jewish space lasers, and on he went. The whole time he kept waving that shotgun around. The sun was all but down when he stopped for breath.

"Do you see?" He demanded "How they control us?"

"You've given me a lot to think about." She answered, knowing to never commit too much with the crackpots.

He didn't seem happy with that response. He pointed the shotgun at her chest.

"And that's enough" Came Superman's voice as he drifted up along the wall. "The military might be telling you about the rich getting high from the blood of children, but they must have never told you the weapon safety rules."

Bloodsport pointed the shotgun at Superman's face and squeezed the trigger while shouting "Space Jew".

"That wasn't very nice." Superman said as the last cinders from the blast cooled on his undamaged skin.

Bloodsport let go of the shotgun, it fell a few inches and dematerialized. Pieces blew away like in some old movie. At the same time, right above his hands, a large rifle materialized. Lane had never seen one in person, but she had to assume this massive weapon was a sniper rifle.

"Neat trick." Lane said at the same time Bloodsport fired the gun into Superman's face.

"You must have forgotten something." Superman said as he stepped onto the roof and snatched the rifle, causing it to fold like a cardboard tube. "Superman is more than a man. He is an idea. You cannot kill ideas with something as simple as a gun."

"Maybe," The rifle dematerialized, and a knife with a faint green glow materialized "but I bet this can kill space Jews!"

Bloodsport made a quick stab with the knife and Superman took a defensive step back, right before the ledge. Lois hit Bloodsport with her stungun, causing him to collapse to the ground.

"Always showing up right when I need you," Lane told him by way of thanks.

"I was in the area. It seemed like the interview was wrapping up."

"In the area, huh?"

"Of course. A cat in a tree, a lost wallet, a boy lost a balloon he got for a girl. The usual."

"How do you do it? You just care about everything, don't you?"

"Power corrupts, Ms. Lane. But even at my most cynical, I believe if I show up and help little girls find their run away dogs, I can keep the power I have from corrupting me."

"Mind if I quote you on that?"

"Can you make it less cynical?"

"Less cynical? Sorry, not on the menu."

Superman had a sour look on his face, but Lane was already thinking of ways to reframe what he said to be more hopeful. He liked hope. Cutting the 'at my most cynical' would do it. It would be easy to forget that part before she writes up her story.

"Need a hand getting down?"

"No, I should be fine." She wanted to ask him what idea he saw Superman as being, but an idea occurred to her. An association. It could be an association from exhaustion or listening to the conspiracy theorist, but an association all the same. "I need time to think." she finally concluded while Superman picked up Bloodsport.

Lois was up until 2 in the morning. The association was expanding, reaching out to other ideas, other similarities and connections. The mental graph stressed her out too much to let her sleep. She texted Clark "We have work to do. Be in the office at 5. Or else"

"What's going on?" Clark asked the moment he walked through the door and realized Lane was staring at him and her eyes followed as he walked to her. She must have been staring at the door.

"No one is here yet." She answered.

"I don't-"

"I want to see something." She pointed next to her desk "Stand right here."

"Lois have you slept?" Clark was nervous as he stood where she pointed.

"Not really, no." She pulled her chair to be next to him.

Lois stood on the chair. Clark looked up into her eyes until she directed his eyes straight ahead. She ran a finger along his scalp and used it as a guide to change his hair from a left handed to right handed part. She observed her work then added the curl on the end.

"Much better." Lois praised herself. "Now, stand up straight."

"I am."

"You're slouching, all the way up."

There was a look of panic in his eyes as he looked up to her, but he did what she told him.

"OK, now let's see the pose."

"I don't know what pose you mean."

"Yes you do." She poked him in the chest, then, when he did not strike the pose she poked him again.

Clark seemed unwilling, but he pulled himself into the Superman pose.

"Now say the line or I'll poke you again."

"I fight for truth, justice, and the American way."

"Such a corny line."

"I like corny."

"And what idea do you think Superman is?"

"That life is hard and dangerous, but tomorrow can be better if we try."

"Smallville, you are the corniest man alive."