ACT 2

1

Lois Lane slouched at her desk, staring at the stack of files in front of her. Her fingers drummed absently on the paper, the frustration building as she glanced at the clock. The day was about to be spent chasing a meaningless story when she could be covering the Lex Luthor trial. But no, she was stuck with the Metropolis Museum exhibition wondering how was she supposed to break into the headlines.

Sighing heavily, Lois grabbed her phone and dialled Perry White's number, hoping for a bit of advice or at least someone to vent to. The phone rang a few times before the familiar gruff voice answered.

"Lane. You better have a good reason for interrupting my day."

"Of course I do, Perry." - Lois's voice was edged with frustration as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. - "I need some guidance here. Stern's given me this museum fluff piece when I should be covering the trial of the century. Lex Luthor's sitting in the courthouse and instead, I'm stuck interviewing curators about ancient chairs." - She threw a glance at the report she'd been assigned, shaking her head. - "What does Stern expect me to do with assignments like this?"

Perry's laughter echoed on the other end of the line, though it was more of a chuckle than a laugh. - "Well, that's Stern for you. He doesn't care about your expectations. He cares about the bottom line and you can't change that by complaining about it."

Lois sighed, exasperated. - "I know, Perry, but I need something more. A real story. Something big."

Perry was quiet for a moment, then his voice lowered, becoming more serious. - "Well, if you want to get back to the top, Lane, there's only one thing that's gonna get Stern to sit up and take notice."

"What's that?"

"An exclusive. The kind of story no one else can get. Something that'll make everyone else in this city go pale with envy. Something that'll have Stern ready to apologize for ever doubting you."

Lois raised an eyebrow. - "And what exactly would that be?"

Perry's voice took on a gravelly tone. - "You've been sitting on it for weeks: the Blur."

Lois blinked, staring at the phone as though it had betrayed her. -

"Have you two been talking?" - she asked, her voice a mixture of surprise and disbelief. - "You're serious?"

"I'm dead serious." - Perry replied without missing a beat. - "That's the story, Lane. Get that interview, you said yourself in a rally conference, you've been talking to him. That's how get into Stern good graces again."

Lois shook her head, gripping the phone tighter. She could already feel the weight of his words pressing down on her. She hadn't even considered going after the Blur's story, not like that. Not for an exclusive. She and Clark had talked about the Blur's anonymity, about how dangerous it would be to expose him. But the idea of her being the one to uncover the truth? It was intoxicating. It was everything she had ever wanted. - "But you know how this goes, Perry." - Lois said, her voice softer now. - "How can I get an interview with someone who doesn't want to be found? He's a ghost. He's careful, cautious. He doesn't trust anyone."

"Anyone but you." - Perry said, his tone laced with a knowing smirk. - "That's why you've got to be smart. Get close to him. If you crack that story, Lane, you'll have everything you ever wanted. That's your ticket back to the top."

Lois closed her eyes, her thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The Blur. Clark. She couldn't just expose him. Not without risking everything. She had promised to protect his secret and yet, if she was ever going to get back to the top of her game, it was clear that was the story that would put her there.

She glanced at her reflection in the nearby window, seeing the woman she used to be, the one who'd been fearless, driven and determined to get the big story at any cost: she wondered if she was still that woman or she had changed. - "I don't know, Perry." - she murmured. - "That's a big ask."

"Then think about it, Lane." - Perry said with a chuckle. - "But if you want to impress Stern and get back to the stories that matter, the Blur is the only thing that'll do it. No one else has it."

Lois's mind raced as she sat back down at her desk. Her fingers drummed against the surface, her thoughts colliding in a storm of doubt and determination. - "You really know how to ruin a girl's day." - Lois said, forcing a smile despite the tension in her chest.

Perry's voice softened, just a little. - "It's not about ruining your day, Lane. It's about making sure you're still on top when the dust settles."

Lois took a deep breath, staring at the blank page on her computer screen. She had a decision to make and it was going to be harder than anything she'd faced before. - "Thanks, Perry." - she said quietly, already knowing what she had to do. As she hung up, Lois stared at the phone for a moment longer.

2

Belle Reve: Intensive Care Unit.

It wasn't known for the best reasons: a psychiatric hospital mixed with high security to control the various dangerous patients coming from all the state of Kansas: psychotic murderers with powers, comatose patients, all part of a reality very few had to deal with.

A chief nurse, hardened by years of experience, walked briskly down the corridor with a young trainee struggling to keep up. The older woman spoke without looking back. - "The best advice I can give is to look as these people as dummies."

The younger nurse recoiled. - "That's… awful."

The chief nurse finally glanced at her, unimpressed. - "Call it cruel if you want but if you start seeing them as people, really seeing them, you'll end up just like them."

The thought unsettled the trainee. She had entered the medical field to help people, not dehumanize them but she kept her thoughts to herself as they stopped outside a room.

"Patient Jeremy Holdsclaw…" – the chief nurse stated in a dull tone. - "Comatose for nearly eight years. A hospital record."

The younger nurse looked more closely at the patient. - "Who is he?"

"Everybody calls him the Kawatche but his real name is Jeremiah Holdsclaw. Native American, from some local tribe. Been out cold since the day he got here."

The younger nurse looked at the unconscious man laying down on the bed peacefully, completely unaware of the changes the world had gone through. – "Not a single change?"

"Nope."

Sadness and compassion filled the young nurse's heart. - "His family must be in a complete rattle."

"You know how it is: at first many come, hopeful things can change for the better still as time goes by, hope fades away and visits become rare. There was an old man who visited him every week. Haven't seen him in a while." – Suddenly the mention of that old man visiting the patient struck her mind: she looked more carefully at the patient. – "Odd."

Suddenly a young man appeared at the door: early twenties with his long black hair touching his shoulders and glasses, the young man was the average nerd usually people look at.

"And you are?" – Asked the unimpressed chief nurse, glaring at the young man.

The young man held up an ID badge. -"Case study…" he said in a crisp, foreign accent. - "Research on long-term coma patients. I have authorization."

The chief nurse squinted at the ID but when he fumbled to retrieve his paperwork, she waved him off. - "Whatever. Just shut the door when you're done."

"Thank you." - As soon as the two nurses left the room, he closed the door, dropping the act of an apologetic man, putting his glasses on the chair next to him. Reaching into his briefcase, he pulled out an old, weathered book. He flipped carefully through the delicate pages, searching until he found it. - "There…" He inhaled deeply and began to recite.

"Ekat eht ygrene morf eht esrevinU dna ekaw morf eht gnol peels."

A luminous orb of energy formed outside the room, passing through the walls like a ghost before sinking into Jeremiah Holdsclaw's body.

Immediately Jeremiah opened his eyes: It took a few moments for Jeremiah to gain strength on his hands. The pain and discomfort of all his muscles screamed in protest after years of stillness but slowly, strength returned.

"You just woke up from a very long sleep."

Jeremiah turned and laid eyes on the man standing in front of him. - "Where am I?" – His voice was hoarse: He had to ask since he didn't recognize the place at all.

"Belle Reve. If my sources are correct, you've been here for the last eight years. Do you remember the last thing you were doing before going dark?"

Jeremiah was still dizzy: his body was slowing regain its normal strength as his memories were coming back. It was still fuzzy but then Jeremiah remembered Lionel being tied up for the sacrifice, a trial. The Starblade. The truth it was supposed to reveal. – " Lionel… he's Sageeth…"

The stranger arched a brow. - "I have my doubts."

The man's quick reply wasn't exactly the kind of answer Jeremiah was looking for. - "Where is he?"

"Six feet under…"

The response surprised Jeremiah. - "He's dead? I killed him?" –

"Dead but not by your hand…and he's not Sageeth."

Jeremiah was surprised by the answer. - "What?"

"Palak, the Starblade would reveal who was Sageeth but rumour has it, both Luthors touch the blade before it disintegrated."

"Both?" – Jeremiah looked at the man perplexed. Palak was meant to reveal one man, not two.

"Lionel and Lex… One is down and one to go."

Conflicted, Jeremiah studied the man. - "Why? What do you want from me?"

"Truth. Justice… and a little unfinished business."- The man's smirk widened. - "Let's say Lex didn't keep his side of the bargain."

Jeremiah's hands curled into fists. - "I'm not interested in Lex Luthor." – Immediately the men lost his grin with the blunt and yet numb affirmation.

"I thought we had a mutual interest."

Jeremiah's expression darkened. - "Lionel was the one who put in danger my people. He was the owner of LuthorCorp, the company which owns the kawatche caves."

"Again, Lionel is dead and who do you think owns it now?" - The man leaned in. - "Lex Luthor. Just as corrupt. Just as dangerous. He stole what was rightfully yours."

"Lex…"- Jeremiah let it slip from his lips.

"Don't you want your people to regain what is rightfully yours? Instead, you have a white rich man from the corrupt corporate world who owns it, who stole it from you and your kind. And I'm telling you right now, Lex is no different from Lionel."

Jeremiah clenched his jaw. - "You're not far from the truth but anyways, I need Palak, the star blade."

"I wouldn't worry about that." - The man opened an old book with extreme carefulness: some pages were separated from the book and so, the man continued to turn the pages with caution until he meet the page he wanted.

"kalap, edalb rats eht eb tsum derotser." – The man pronounced.

Jeremiah couldn't understand what it meant but it didn't matter any longer: a glow appeared in front of him, shinning to the point he could no longer keep his eyes opened. When he opened his eyes again, Jeremiah saw Palak fully restored. He grabbed it immediately and right away, he felt the same energy he felt for the first time he held the blade. He jumped out of the bed with renewed energy and ambition.

Jeremiah looked at the man: he could be a liability and so, the best way to avoid liabilities was to eliminate them.

"I know what you're thinking to but save it. I'm the least of your worries. Lex on the other hand…"

Jeremiah was surprised by the man's clearness and the man was right: Lex was a Luthor. There was no need for anymore justification. Lex was the villain and he, Jeremiah, was the hero.

Slowly but steady, Jeremiah got up. – "Where is Lex?"

The man smirked, closing the book. – "These youngsters… patience isn't a virtue.

3

It was more than obvious that Lois Lane wasn't happy. If anything, the look in her eyes screamed frustration of a woman being pushed aside, ignored and rejection was something Lois Lane did not handle well.

At her desk, she furiously typed away, scrolling through research with an intensity that made her fingernails tap against the surface in an impatient rhythm.

Jimmy, her temporary partner for the day, noticed. He'd kept quiet, stealing occasional glances at her. Subtlety wasn't his strong suit and unfortunately for him, Lois noticed everything.

"What?" - Her sharp tone made him flinch.

"Nothing…" - he muttered, quickly looking away. - "I just... thought nagging the Blur for an exclusive would be at the top of your list."

Lois scoffed. - "This is my top story." - She snatched a copy of The Daily Planet off her desk and shoved it toward him, tapping on page four. The headline: LEX LUTHOR RETURNS TO METROPOLIS.

Jimmy blinked. - "Luthor? Sure, the guy was infamous but given recent events, Sinister Friday, the Blur's latest exploits, Lex's return hardly seemed like front-page news.

Lois levelled him with a stare. - "What are the fundamentals of a good story?"

Jimmy hesitated. - "Uh... maybe…"

"Rhetorical question, Olsen." - she cut him off, already pushing back from her desk. - "Mystery. Drama. Revelation... and Lex Luthor has all three in spades."

Jimmy frowned. - "Doesn't the Blur have all those? I mean, who is he? Why does he do what he does? And now there's the whole debate about him going public."

Lois barely looked up as she transferred files to her PDA. - "People don't care about the why when it comes to the Blur. They just want to see his face. They already know what he does. But Lex Luthor?"- She smirked. - "That guy has more skeletons in his closet than the pyramids have mummies."

Jimmy leaned back, thoughtful. - "Yeah, but... why?"

Lois paused. - "What?"

He shrugged, rewording. - "Why does the Blur do it? What if it's a Messiah complex? Or maybe he just likes the attention. A guy with superpowers, he could be out making millions, playing basketball or something but instead, he's running around saving people."

Lois opened her mouth to fire back but memories stopped her. Her mind flashed to the brief time she'd had Clark's powers, to what it had felt like to be that strong, to hear people crying for help and know she could save them. She exhaled, quieter now. - "Because he can. Because it's the right thing to do."

Jimmy shrugged. - "Guess that makes him one of a kind. Me? I'd be dunking from half-court and cashing checks."

Lois smirked, grabbing her coat. - "And that is why you're not the Blur." - She threw it over her shoulder and gestured toward the door. - "Come on, Olsen. We're going to the museum. Maybe a 2,500-year-old mummy will inspire you instead."

Jimmy sighed but got up to follow her. - "Great. Just what I need. Career advice from a random dead guy."

Lois didn't even break stride. - "Better than taking it from Lex Luthor."

4

Clark Kent stood near the courthouse, his eyes scanning the entrance as he awaited the start of Lex Luthor's trial but the calm was quickly shattered when his superhearing picked up a commotion down the street. A woman's voice, panicked and desperate, rose above the noise. - "Please! Just take it, and let me go!"

Clark's instincts kicked in. Without a second thought, he turned toward the sound of the struggle. The alley just ahead was narrow, shadowed by the buildings, and a man had the woman cornered, gripping her arm with a rough, iron-tight hold. - "Give me your purse, lady, or I'll make you regret it." - the man growled, his voice dripping with malice.

Clark's eyes narrowed. This was more than just a robbery. He couldn't stand by and let this happen.

In an instant, Clark was there so fast that the thug didn't even have time to react. One moment the alley was empty, the next, Clark stood between the woman and her attacker. The mugger froze, eyes wide in confusion, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Clark moved like a blur, his hand darting out to grab the burglar by the wrist with effortless strength. The man tried to pull away but it was futile. Clark's grip tightened, and in a single motion, he twisted the mugger's arm behind his back, forcing him to the ground with a brutal snap. The thug's body collided with the pavement with a sharp thud, the wind knocked out of him as he lay motionless, unable to move a muscle.

The woman stood frozen, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her wide eyes still locked on the sight of the man now pinned to the ground, immobilized by Clark's hold.

Without a word, Clark stepped back, releasing the mugger's arm from his grip. The thug struggled but his limbs refused to obey. Clark had him completely paralyzed, held in place by a force the burglar couldn't comprehend. The man's eyes were wild with panic but Clark didn't need to say anything: his actions spoke for him.

The woman backed away cautiously, pulling out her phone with trembling hands to call the police. In a blur of motion, Clark was gone, disappearing back into the crowd. The mugger, still immobilized on the ground, could do nothing but watch in disbelief as his would-be victim walked away, safe.

Back inside the courthouse, the trial was beginning. Clark slipped through the entrance, unnoticed by anyone, blending seamlessly back into the routine of his day.

5

Lex Luthor stood at the bottom of the courthouse steps, a statue in a well-tailored suit. The cold morning air did little to affect him. His hands were tucked in his pockets, his face unreadable, as the swarm of reporters descended upon him like vultures, snapping their cameras and shouting questions.

He didn't flinch. He had done that before. The reporters were no different now than they ever were. Their questions were rehearsed, their voices were too eager but it all sounded the same to him. The only thing that mattered was getting inside the building, away from their incessant demands for answers.

"Mr. Luthor! Do you have any comment on the charges against you?"

"Do you remember anything from the day of the murder?"

"Is it true you had a falling out with Tess Mercer before her death?"

Lex kept his eyes forward, ignoring their pleas for a headline. The questions had become so predictable, each one more repetitive than the last. He wasn't about to feed their insatiable hunger for details that they couldn't possibly understand. He was above this. The trial was the only thing that mattered now, not the clamour of reporters who had no idea what they were really asking.

The crowd pressed in closer as he walked toward the courthouse doors. He heard another voice rise above the others, one named Clark Kent, reporter of the Daily Planet.

"Lex…Clark Kent, Daily Planet." - Clark's voice cut through the noise, direct but calm. - "What exactly happened between you and Tess Mercer that day? Do you remember what happened before the stabbing?"

The question landed on Lex like the others but something in Clark Kent's tone was different. Lex didn't answer at first, merely continuing to walk, his eyes on the door ahead. He had no recollection of that day: None. The memories were lost to him, faded away in the wake of whatever had happened but Clark Kent wasn't like the others. Lex could feel his eyes on him, watching, waiting for something more. A subtle tension in the air. It wasn't just the usual journalistic curiosity. No, Clark Kent was still standing there, lingering in the crowd, his gaze fixed on Lex with an almost wary intensity.

Lex's pace faltered for a second, just long enough to register that Clark Kent had not moved, not like the others. The slight but noticeable wariness in the way Clark held himself was… curious. It was a look Lex had seen before, one that spoke of suspicion, doubt but also something more, what it was, he couldn't perceive.

Lex didn't give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, he kept his face neutral, his lips pressed into a tight line, before walking briskly toward the courthouse entrance. The reporters continued shouting questions at him but it no longer mattered. His focus was on the door, the courtroom, the trial ahead.

As the heavy doors opened and Lex stepped inside, he couldn't shake the feeling that Clark Kent's question had been more than just a routine inquiry. The man seemed to be studying him, reading him in ways the others couldn't but he had nothing to hide. He just couldn't remember.

At snail's pace, the court staff began to appear and take their positions and patiently everyone waited for everything and everyone being in their rightful positions, moments passed…

Lex Luthor sat in the courtroom, his hands resting on the cold, polished surface of the table before him. The noise of the proceedings buzzed around him but it felt distant, as if he were submerged under water. He was aware of every movement, every murmur but he didn't let his focus waver, not then, not when his future his very life was hanging by a thread.

"Remember." – Bennet, his lawyer whispered. - "Stay quiet unless I cue you. No outbursts, no interruptions." - Lex gave a slight nod but didn't speak.

Satisfied, Bennet turned his attention back to the room, scanning the crowd with the confidence of a man who believed he already had the upper hand.

The tension in the room was palpable. Lex could feel it in the air, in the way the other people shifted in their seats, in the way their eyes flickered to him and then away. He was used to being watched but this was different. This was a courtroom, not a boardroom or a battlefield. Here, everything mattered. Every word, every gesture, every glance.

His mind flashed briefly to the night Tess Mercer had died, stabbed in his own office. He couldn't remember what happened. He couldn't even remember her face clearly but that didn't matter now. What mattered was the trial, the accusations, the charge of first-degree murder.

As the clerk announced the case number, the courtroom fell into a thick silence. Lex barely reacted. His lawyer, Karl Bennet, was already on his feet, preparing to defend him. The words that followed were a blur as Lex steeled himself for what was to come. He hadn't anticipated how quickly the defence would move. They were playing their cards early, making it clear that they were all in.

Bennet's voice rang out, confident and cool as always. - "We'd like to enter our appearance and a plea of not guilty."

Lex's eyes narrowed slightly. He hadn't expected a not-guilty plea. He didn't know what he expected, honestly but that... that felt like a game and in a game like that, Bennet had already chosen his side.

The judge's voice cracked through his thoughts. - "Really?"

Bennet's response was smooth, practiced, an answer that slid past the judge's scepticism with ease. - "Yes, Your Honor. If we should proceed to bail, my client..."

"…committed cold-blooded murder and bail is not…"- The prosecution didn't let him finish. Lex could feel the sharp edge of their interruption, the disdain in their voice.

"Bail is a function of flight risk and danger to society! Lex Luthor poses neither."

The prosecution lawyer was quick to remind them all of the facts. - "He stabbed his half-sister."

The words hit him like a slap but he didn't flinch. He had nothing to say in his own defence. He couldn't. Not when his memory was a blank slate. He could only rely on Bennet to spin their narrative, to twist the truth into something that might hold up.

"Allegedly…" - Bennet countered smoothly, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. - "And maybe because she stole his memories and effectively, his life. He has no recollection of her, Your Honor. Who knows what she intended during Sinister Friday? Frankly, everyone was out of their minds that day."

Lex didn't miss the undertone of smugness in Bennet's words. He wasn't just defending him, he was painting a picture of chaos, of insanity, a picture that could give Lex the escape he so desperately needed but it wasn't that simple.

Lex's mind raced. His past was like a shattered mirror, broken fragments of his life that he couldn't piece together. He had no memory of the events that led to Tess's death, no memory of their relationship, of the betrayal but even so, he knew the courtroom wouldn't see that. They wouldn't see the man who had once been a philanthropist, a visionary, a man who had wanted to change the world for the better. No. All they would see was the cold, ruthless Luthor name. The name, Lex thought bitterly. The name that would bind him to all of that. The name that would follow him to the end of his days.

The judge, clearly unimpressed by Bennet's cocky attitude, interrupted. - "Mr. Bennet, your tone doesn't seem to grasp the severity of the matter. Do you think we're all gathered here for a good snicker?"

"No, Your Honor." - Bennet said, his voice softening, a touch more respectful. - "We're gathered here because my client stands accused of a crime he doesn't remember committing. The evidence against him is circumstantial at best. Lex Luthor has no memory of his past, no vendettas, no motives. We have the evidence to prove it. He's not a flight risk because he has nowhere to run."

Lex knew the defence was far from perfect but Bennet had crafted his words carefully, pushing the idea that he was not a man of violence, not a man with a past so dark that he could commit such a heinous act without reason. Lex wasn't sure he believed it but it was the only story they had.

The judge's gavel echoed, silencing any further objections. - "Bail is set for $10 million. We'll set a conference for scheduling."

"Defence is ready now." - Bennet affirmed, speaking with the confidence of a man who had already won the battle in his mind.

The judge frowned, surprised by the sudden declaration. - "What?"

Bennet didn't miss a beat. - "There's no discovery to speak of. My client was in the room when his half-sister came in and my client stabbed her, allegedly."

"Do you mean you're entering a straight plea of not guilty?" - The judge's tone was sharp, his scepticism clear.

"No, no, no…" - Bennet dismissed quickly. - "At this time, we'd like to give notice of our affirmative defence."

Lex sat up straighter, his eyes focused intently on Bennet, who was about to drop the next bombshell. He had no idea how this was going to play out. No idea if the temporary insanity plea would hold any water but he trusted Bennet and he needed to.

"Temporary insanity." - Bennet announced, his words slicing through the room like a knife.

To be continued…