Bloodlines

Chapter 6

Morning came with a fresh surge of energy. Conner seemed to have thrown off his melancholy with the usual resilience of the young. Whatever kind of war stories Green Arrow shared with Pete did its job; he came in without the usual lines on his forehead and around his mouth. Even Lana came out with a smile although it didn't reach her eyes.

Lois torpedoed into the room as she always did, hair shaggily twisted up into a bun in a way that indicated business mode. "We have enough to write a new article. I just need… Clark, where did I put--"

"Side pocket." He was already pulling his own laptop out, mentally reviewing the editors to be trusted with this type of piece. Perry would print it, of course, but it needed to get out. "Foreman?"

"Yes. Charbonneau at the… the…" She snapped her fingers.

The French paper, L'Observateur. "Of course. Except she hates you."

"She hates everyone who-- oh! Belgium! But first, toast."

"You're both nuts," Conner commented, his head volleying between the two.

"We have a process," said Clark. "I outline the piece, concentrating on the positioning the actual facts while she begins the s highly emotional editorial sections from memory--"

"The general public is too illiterate for facts," Lois interjected.

"--which become introductions, conclusions or split apart depending on the character of the article. When Lois runs out of juice, I come in to edit the material with factual notes so people know we're not pulling this out of--."

"Our asses."

"--thin air."

"Then we bicker and yell and throw plastic objects at each other."

"Once you threw a trophy."

"It was still plastic."

"The base wasn't."

They would have gone on squabbling if Green Arrow hadn't dived between them. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to the Smallville Torch sticker on Lana's hard drive.

"That's the logo for our high school paper," said Clark.

"Chloe Sullivan sent that drive? With the sticker?"

"Yeah. That's how we knew it was important."

"I've seen that before," said Green Arrow. "Someone sent me fanmail with that on the postcard. It had an SD card with pictures and I couldn't figure out why this person would send me random JPEGS of an apartment."

"What did the apartment look like?" asked Lois.

"Cork flooring, two bedroom, standard British fare but there's a rabid banana tree in one corner."

"That's our apartment!" Conner said.

Lois' eyes went wide. "You mean you had it all this time? A crucial piece in this whole mess and you had it all this time?"

"She disguised it as fanmail," said Green Arrow. "Do you know how much fanmail we get every week? I left it for the newbies to scan and discard; we're lucky it ended up in the non-urgent pile as opposed to the trash."

"You get fanmail? Cool!" Conner held up devil's horns.

"Not helping," Clark said quietly. His expression was enough to subdue the boy. "Do you still have it?"

"Yeah, it should be in the trophy room somewhere. I just received it... last week." Green Arrow slapped his forehead. "The longer I do this, the more I wonder how many brain cells I've lost to concussions. Excuse me." Turning, he called the Watchtower.

Pete brought the coffee pot over with a tray of mugs. "So this is really happening. We're going to try to charge the president with crimes against humanity. We're talking the same guy who actually proposed a moratorium on fossil fuel use last Senate."

Lois grinned wolfishly. "We are going to screw his ass to the ground. I've always wanted to do something like this; the fact that it's Luthor just sweetens the pot. To hell with a Pulitzer; I'm doing this one for free."

"I'm not caught up," Lana said. "Did we find anything solid?"

"Just more information on the actual experiment and bribery documentation," said Clark. "He can easily say that he didn't know about it though. What we need is hard evidence that he was in contact with Prometheus about the experiment."

Green Arrow re-entered the room. "Grace is uploading the pictures to our laptop as we speak."

"Tell them to run an image through a stenographic decoder," Lois said. "We did a piece on it last year. Chloe mentioned she followed the articles we did together so she could have embedded text within the images on the SD card."

"I hope for your sakes that this is the kind of information you need. Careers have been ruined with less."

"What I don't get is why Chloe sent the information to you," Lana said.

Clark answered that one. "Once upon a time when we played at being a league, Chloe's call-sign was Watchtower. She didn't just send it to Green Arrow; she sent it to the one place she knew Luthor couldn't reach."

"I wish I'd thought of putting her on payroll. Can you imagine how much smoother every mission would be if we had a central brain to manage everything?" Green Arrow said.

Pete half-stood, waving a file. The others whipped around to listen. "I found something in my set boxes. This is an outline of Project PrimeX3. It uses gene therapy as a way to introduce pseudo-kryptonian powers to the recipients. The proposed experimental group is in Yuacic. Luthor's been pushing me to allow Prometheus charitable access there. Sonnuvabitch."

"He wants to sell armies of Supermen. And Superwomen. Superpersons." Lois shook her head, at a loss. "He just won't let up. Can you imagine how much more money he'd make selling this drug on the black market, not to mention the type of arms race that it could spawn?"

"Forget the arms race. What about the actual wars? The Army of Heavenly Liberation has headquarters just over the border from Yuacic, hip-deep in genocide. If they get these drugs, it'll make Rwanda look like bitchslaps."

"If AHL wants it, then the Vipers in North Africa will also want it and from there, it'll be an open port to any arms dealer and ganglord in the world. Shit." Lois rubbed her eyes. "As if we don't have enough problems with meta villains in the States."

"I don't think he wants to sell the drug," said Clark. "I think he wants to own the actual army. He's tried the meta route before, remember? It always took too much out of him. But if he had an army he could control, an army of metas loyal only to him, then throw in the billions in his bank accounts, what do you have?"

The whole room silenced.

"This is all moot without proof that Luthor had direct involvement in all of this," Lana said. "Otherwise, he'll just deny knowledge and rely on people's amazing ability not to care what goes on in other countries to non-white people."

Lois arched her eyebrows. "You're getting cynical in your old age, Lana."

The other woman acknowledged the statement with a nod.

"I have the images," Green Arrow announced. He held up a thumb drive. "You were right about the embedded information but it's not text, it was another image layer."

"Of?"

"Soundwaves, the printout from an oscilloscope. Tempest recognized it as soon as it came through the decoder."

Clark's stomach twisted in excitement. "Soundwaves of what?"

"I knew you'd ask that so Tempest also ran it through the computer." Green Arrow inserted the thumb drive into a laptop port.

A nasal East Coast accent came through the speakers. "-- phase is going well. We think another two doses and this batch will start showing visible manifestations of powers."

"Good." Luthor's voice was unmistakable. "Your cover still holds?"

"Everything here goes for a bribe. You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Luthor."

"I told you never to use names!"

"My apologies, sir. I was just so excited about the development--"

"Don't count your chickens until they hatch, doctor. Now tell me, have any of the subjects manifested the full range of powers?"

"No, the most we've gotten is two and even then each one is at half the strength of a single manifestation, that is, quarter-strength of the genetic source. The human body just isn't made to withstand this type of power."

"Then you'll have to create a human that can."

The sound file cut abruptly. Clark released the breath he'd been holding. "We have him."

The Metropolis Daily Planet devoted five pages to the story, including the front page. Within minutes, the Associated Press took and circulated it through all its newspapers around the United States. Twenty-six hours later, the gag-orders began but it had already spread to the World Press. "Chloe Sullivan with Lois Lane and Clark Kent" was splashed on every headline between the UK Guardian to the Herald Sun in Australia.

When Pete left his and Lana's room-- they'd agreed to sleep in the same room to make detail easier for Green Arrow and Black Canary-- Lois and Clark were going through online papers.

"Luthor: Environmentalist or Mad Scientist?" Clark clicked on another link. "US Pres. Luthor suspected of human testing. Germany's headline is 'US Senate compliant to testing?'"

"Christmas has come early. We can finally go home to our apartment." said Lois. She flopped onto the couch.

Lana handed him a cup of coffee which Pete accepted. They made sure not to touch. "We can finally see the girls," she said.

"There's still the matter of Conner." Clark nodded to the last closed door where the boy slept.

Lois looked at him blankly.

"Where is he going to stay?"

"With us, of course! Geez, Smallville, you're getting senile in your old age."

"I want him to, more than anything but we don't even know if he wants to live with us."

"He's not staying in boarding school. Do you remember what happens to kids in boarding schools? Item one: my sister. Item two: Luthor. Item three: Ollie."

"What's wrong with Ollie?"

"Malfunctioning zipper. No." Lois marked her intent with a sharp gesture. "He's coming home with us."

"What about the bathroom?"

"What about the bathroo--" She glared. "You're mean."

Their bantering hurt. Pete actually felt pain under his ribs at the sight. They were so damn happy. He was happy that his best friend was happy but with his own marriage falling apart and... when the divorce came through, who knew where the girls would end up? He and Lana both had good cases for custody; a legal battle was inevitable. The spectre of his parents' divorce still haunted him. He wouldn't wish that on his girls for the world.

He turned to the refrigerator. "When in stress, eat" had always been the Ross family motto. He'd gained fifteen pounds in the last two months alone. With his head stuck in the fridge, he didn't notice Black Canary enter until she spoke.

"You have to get out," she said. "GA's out there holding back a dozen metas back. Someone found us."

"How?" asked Lana.

"They look like Luthor's pseudo-metas. I'm willing to bet at least one of them can see through walls and another has excellent hearing. Now come on!" She yanked Lana forward.

Pete followed then paused to glance behind. "Where's Clark and Lois?"

Black Canary dismissed them. "They're being taken care of! Down to the basement, quick. We've got an escape route."

The escape route was a leaky tunnel into a building a block down. The exit led to the street directly in front of a compact car. Black Canary remote-started the engine, keeping a wary eye out as he and Lana scurried in.

"There's s scarf for you," she tilted her chin at Lana, "and a hat for you. Put them on and don't look around. We're going to drive like apathetic neighbours."

"What about our girls?" Lana asked.

"I'm sure they're well cared for. I know it's tough but right now, I need to concentrate on you and you two need to concentrate on following me, got it?" Without waiting for an answer, she activated her comme-link. "Outsider, this is Justice-1, what's your status?"

"Fine and dandy, Justice-1," replied the voice on the other end. Pete recognized the speaker as Arsenal, the red-head who'd taken the girls to their safe-house.

"Good to hear that, Outsider. Our own position has been compromised. I have Units 1 and 2. Green Arrow stayed behind to guard the two other units and Superman's en route. Be on high alert."

"Copy that, BC. Do you need a pick up?"

"Please and thank you. Preferably something armed."

"I'll see what the locals have cooked up. Over and out."

Black Canary flashed Pete a grin. "You'll be back in style before you kno--"

The street before them exploded in flames.

Clark changed into Superman as soon as Black Canary had Pete and Lana out the door. "Get Conner!" he told Lois but she was already on it, banging on the boy's door.

A dishevelled Conner stuck his head out. "What?"

"Duck." Superman shielded them with his body as a van crashed through the outside wall. "Let's out of here. Hold on and don't wiggle." He took Lois in one arm, Conner in the other and flew through the apartment's new exit.

"Supes, you're missing all the fun" Green Arrow shouted through the comme-link.

"I'll be right there." Javelin-1 was cloaked on a roof several blocks away. He flew to the roof and disengaged the cloaking device. The dark grey jet slowly coalesced into the visual spectrum. "Ms. Lane, I believe you know about the autopilot function."

"Sure thing."

"Then I suggest you and Mr. Sullivan make for the hills."

"I can fight!" Conner protested. "I helped you with--"

Superman put a finger to his lips. "Not today."

"But there's only the two of you and a frillion of them. You need help."

"And we'll get it." He floated back down so he could meet the boy's eyes straight on. "I can't fight and worry about you at the same time. That's the same reason I'm sending Kent and Lane away. But I know that if anything does happen, you can take care of them, right?"

Conner shrugged his hand off. "That's the kind of bullshit you tell kids in Disney movies."

Superman looked to Lois for help but she couldn't offer anything but a sigh. "Buckle up, Junior," she said.

"But Aunt Lois--"

He blocked the rest of the argument as to the sky once more. The pseudo-metas had Green Arrow surrounded where he perched on a second-floor roof. Two pseudos bashed their fists against the building, hoping to collapse it. Another fired heat rays which Green Arrow dodged with lessening degrees of accuracy. A third pseudo lay motionless on the ground. Superman took a deep breath and blew. The one with heat vision and the one with super strength were blasted away immediately. When the third pseudo, a strong man saw his partner fly off, he pounded his hands elbow-deep into the street, sticking fast.

"I had them until you showed up," said Green Arrow jovially as Superman picked him up.

"Are you certain?"

"Oh yeah. Had them cowering. There were six others; did you see them?"

"Negative. Use non-lethal force; we don't know if they've been coerced into attacking or not."

"Non-lethal force. Right." Green Arrow shot charged arrows at the strongman with little effect. "I shouldn't've made this into a democratic league."

"But think of all the paperwork you'd be missing out."

"Bite me, Blue."

Just then, a street ten blocks off burst into flames. Superman heard Pete's strangled shout.

Green Arrow swore. "Tell me that's not them."

Superman didn't say a word.

"I was afraid you'd say that."

The remaining pseudos had the inverted car surrounded. Three heart beats still sounded from within, thank God, but one was thready. As Superman and Green Arrow landed, one of the heartbeats sped up.

"Canary!" Green Arrow shouted, shooting arrows two at a time as he ran for the vehicle. "If you don't answer me, you over-grown chicken, I'm going to fire you!"

Three pseudos turned to him. Two of them rushed him, their feet denting the street, as the third let loose with her heat vision. The heat didn't faze Superman but the strongmen might do damage. They each had half his strength so together, they could put up a good fight. Superman waited until the last second then dodged the blows by flying straight up. Something ploughed into his back, leaving a bit of heat. He glimpsed a flying pseudo armed with a bazooka. Re-gaining his equilibrium, he turned and went for the flier. It was a short chase; the pseudo didn't have full control of his flying powers and didn't reach top speed before Superman grabbed the bazooka out of his hands and snapped it in half. With a tap on the head, the man was unconscious. Superman caught him and deposited him on the roof.

Two heat-vision pseudos were trying to make short work of the car. Green Arrow was close but had his hands full hand-fighting another pair, one with superbreath if the icicles on GA's goatee could be believed, and one of the strongmen. Superman lunged down and picked the pseudos up by their belts, knocking their heads together while in mid-air. Another two down and on the rooftops. He landed hard on a pseudo, putting his tally up to four.

"Cover your ears, Superman." Black Canary warned him through the comme-link, her voice imbued with forced energy.

He clapped his hands over his ears. Even then, her sonic scream made him wince with its strength. Glass shattered, brick crumbled and the remaining two pseudos dropped to the ground.

Green Arrow got up from his crouch. "You didn't get the memo about non-lethal force so you're not fired," he told Black Canary.

"One day I'm going to quit. I keep losing good pairs of hose in this job."

"How are Pete and Lana?" asked Superman.

"Unconscious but breathing," she replied. "We should get them to the hospital."

Superman picked one of the strongmen up and blew in his face. The blast of cold air revived him. "Are you from Yuacic?" When the man didn't answer, he repeated the question in French then Yoruba. The pseudo didn't reply but a light of understanding widened his eyes. "Why are you working for Luthor?" Superman continued in the last language. "Whatever he's given you could endanger your lives. Gene therapy is not only temporary but your bodies are not suited to such powers. It will wear down. It might even kill you."

"He told us this when we began but working together, we are invincible," said the pseudo. "Prometheus has done many great things for our country and they promised if we helped defeat the Justice League, we would be put in its place with the same salaries and benefits. Our families would be taken care of."

When Superman translated, Green Arrow made a disbelieving noise. "I've never heard of a single promise that Luthor's kept. We're volunteers."

Translating that fired the pseudo up more. "You lie. Why else would you do this if it did not benefit you or your family?"

"I do it because it's right," Superman said softly. "I'm sorry you're hurt but I can't let you continue with your mission." He switched to English. "Black Canary and Green Arrow, do you mind taking your units to the hospital?"

"What'll you do?" Green Arrow asked.

His jaw set, Superman answered, "I'm taking this straight to Luthor."

His teammates laughed at that. "Not without us, you aren't."

It was a sight that would rock the world. The "Big Nine" of the Justice League descended on the White House in loose battle formation with Superman at the head, Green Arrow and Wonder Woman on either side while Impulse, Martian Manhunter, Black Canary, Hawkgirl and Green Lantern filled out the rest of the formation. Batman trailed behind like a shadow, watching their backs.

The dumfounded guards didn't move, not even with Secret Service scrambling to intercept.

One of the suits stood his ground. "You have ignored our orders to stand down, Justice League, We have no choice but to consider this a hostile manoeuvre--"

Impulse snorted. "Buddy, you haven't seen hostile yet."

"Impulse." The other man quieted at Superman's curt admonishment. To the Secret Service agent, he said, "We're here to arrest Lex Luthor. He will be taken to a holding cell in Geneva where he will await trial before the United Nations for unethical experiments on the people of Yuacic using funds from his political campaign which itself is implicated in a number of improper legal practices. Furthermore, he stands accused of ordering the murder of Chloe Sullivan and attempted murder of Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Peter Ross, Lana Lang-Ross and three minors under their care. If he does not peacefully come into custody, we have no choice but to take him by force."

Batman appeared behind the agent. "Please. Give me a reason to use force."

Two of the glass doors opened. Luthor stepped out. "Gentlemen, there's no need for muscle. I'm right here." He opened his arms wide.

At that moment, the metas burst out of every shrub, tree, and wall in the garden. The Justice League tightened into full battle formation-- fliers took to the sky while the land-locked paired up, back to back.

"Luthor's mine!" Superman called out.

"Race you," said Green Arrow. He nocked an arrow into his bow. Then lowered it. "Supes. Extremely large problem."

"What?"

"Is that a remote detonator in his hand?"

Superman focussed. "He's insane." Turning to the White House, he scanned the entire building through. "There are too many possibilities in there-- two lead-lined boxes and three that aren't but have suspicious contents."

"Impulse."

"On it!" Impulse disappeared in a streak of red into the building.

"The pseudo-metas are dispersing," said Hawkgirl. "Green Lantern and I will follow."

"Aquaman just called in from California. He said there are pseudos popping up there, too," Black Canary reported. "Vixen called from Morocco with the same-- Christ, now Grace is freaking out in Tokyo. Is anyone else getting this feed?"

"Justice League, pair up and assist where needed." Superman ordered. "Call in whatever reinforcements you can."

"I'll hail police enforcement." Batman disappeared into his car. Within moments, the rest of the Justice League had gone to their assignments.

"I've lost Luthor, dammit!" Green Arrow said, running into the White House. "Supes, I need your eyes!"

He floated above the building, scanning each level. "The East Wing. He's going to his personal quarters. I'll meet you there."

The Javelin-1 was over American airspace when the first pseudo hit. Lois clutched her seatbelt. Conner yelped.

"What the fuck was that?"

She looked at the instruments. "We've been hit."

"Hit? I thought this thing has cloaking."

"It doesn't cloak on autopilot; it takes up too much memory and besides it's dangerous to the rest of the air traffic. I'm going to take it out of auto and try to land."

Conner turned wide, wild eyes to her. "Try to land?"

"I've flown before. Just not this particular model."

Another hit shook the plane. Lois looked out to see a pseudo clinging to the jet's wing. Savagely, she piloted the jet into a barrel-roll. "I think that shook him off."

Conner clenched his eyes closed. "I'm so glad I'm invulnerable."

"There's a clear patch right under us. I'm going to land there."

Half a thousand feet below them, stood the Washington Monument.

Superman arrived at the East Wing in time to catch Green Arrow who'd been thrown out of a top floor window. Cuts marred his arms and his shades were missing, revealing a bruise that covered half his face.

"Ow, my pancreas," he moaned dryly, letting his body go limp in Superman's arms. "For a bald little geek, he packs a punch."

"Luthor did this?"

"Yeah. Apparently, he's taken up a second career as a Transformer."

"What are you talking... about?" Superman's voice trailed off at the sight before him.

Luthor jumped out into the lawn encased in a metal exo-skeleton. One arm ended in a vise-like hand while the other shaped into the nozzle of a firearm. Green light pulsed from underneath the chest armour.

"Is that green light--"

"--Kryptonite?" Superman nodded curtly.

With a sigh, Green Arrow rolled to his feet. "You know the drill. Get the hell out of dodge while I take care of business."

Superman didn't move. "Do you know its weaknesses?"

"Sure. Luthor's driving it." Under his teammates stare, Green Arrow lifted both hands up in peace. "I have no idea but I figure I'll keep firing at it until something works." And he did just that, releasing three exploding arrow tips at Luthor in fast succession.

Luthor raised his gun arm and fired. A blast of green light disintegrated the arrows, detonating the explosives at a distance to far to do damage. Waves of radiation hit Superman, forcing him to stumble back. Every cell in his body wanted to fight but he knew that he'd be a liability with the kryptonite close by.

Superman turned and ran.

The farther away he got from Luthor's armour, the better he felt. He flew the last few feet to the doors of the building. "There are possible explosives in there. Evacuate this building!" he ordered the Secret Service agents who poured out in defense.

"Impossible," one agent shouted back.

He stopped two feet in front of them, hands face up. "Would you risk it?"

They looked at each other then at President Luthor in his armour fighting Green Arrow. They wisely withdrew.

The Javelin skidded into the reflection pool, shuddering so hard Lois was sure her teeth would fall out by the end. Not her best water landing. With the landing gear moaning and something vital-- probably one of the wings-- tearing up the lawn, the jet gave up all pretense of gravity-defying and flopped, lifeless, on the lawn at the base of the monument.

"My ears are ringing," said Conner.

Lois thought hers were as well. "No, actually those are the screaming tourists."

"Oh good. For a second there, I was worried."

They popped the pilot-side doors open. There were, indeed, screaming tourists but thankfully none under the jet. Overhead, choppers threatened to drown out the screams. A sound like thunder cracked the air.

Conner looked sharply around. "Those are missiles. Someone's shooting missiles in Washington, DC. What are you-- where did you get a gun?"

"I always carry one in my purse," Lois said primly. "Follow me."

Despite the chaos, the White House staff was extremely calm, probably as a result of countless drills. Superman was thankful for it; this would be much harder with severely anxious civilians. Nearly fifty people in all filed out of the doors and into the far end of the lawn. Luthor was no where in sight.

"What happened?" asked a senior-looking agent.

He didn't answer. Where the heck is Green Arrow?

Several yards away, an unmoving green and black lump lay on the lawn. Superman flew to his side. Green Arrow was face down and completely unconscious. Blisters marred half his face.

"Apparently, at a high enough intensity kryptonite can harm humans as well. Don't bother with him; this is our fight, isn't it?" A green beam scorched the earth beside Green Arrow. Superman's muscles cramped even as he rolled away. Luthor grinned, a ghastly sight through the helmet. "Christmas has come early."

Superman looked wildly around for help. "This is Superman. I've got GK here and Green Arrow is out of commission. I need assistance."

"This is Nightwing. I'm close-by, ETA seven minutes."

"Try to make it five," said Superman. Luthor fired a bolt of kryptonite radiation. "Heck, six is good, too. I try to be flexible."

Four bolts of radiation pulsed towards him. Superman dodged to one side then back, away from Luthor's exoskeleton. Flying was always the first to go with green kryptonite; he could feel the grav-fields but couldn't grasp them. Even without the use of the laser, the suit exuded enough waste radiation to affect him. He felt his strength slowly leaking away and wondered how long before Luthor recognized the signs.

Luthor drew closer. "Do you like the suit? I'm two months off schedule; I wanted to do this after the election whether I won or lost but as long as you're defeated, I'll consider this project a success." With his every step, the asphalt cracked.

He had to find a way to stall. Six minutes twenty seconds until Nightwing arrived. "You don't have to do this. You would have been given a fair trial for your crimes but this... The capital's falling down around you!""

"I have billions. I can rebuild and they'll love me."

"And your PrimeX3 experiments? I suppose they'll love you for that."

Luthor's mouth twisted into a smirk. "Do you know how most medical breakthroughs happened? By experimentation on live subjects. It's ugly but someone's got to do it for the benefit of all mankind."

"You can't really justify your so-called army with that."

"I'm giving everyone what they want! An unbeatable army, a cure for all sickness, prosperity, strength, security! They won't have to rely on a private company with... doubtful hidden agendas." Luthor shot off another bolt. This one came so close that Superman nearly gagged with pain. He staggered away. Grabbing a chunk of sidewalk, he spun around and pitched it as hard as he could at Luthor. It bounced off Luthor's helmet, leaving a large crack. Luthor glanced at it. "Now, you're stooping to throwing rocks?"

"I know I'm only the muscle in the League but I know better than to arm-wrestle you in that suit," said Superman. "With every shot you're missing, you're damaging buildings, hurting civilians. If you want to fight me, let's take it somewhere less populated."

Four minutes fifty-five seconds with Luthor only twenty feet away. How much kryptonite did that suit have to affect him like this at twenty feet? Come on, Richard, make that crotch-rocket fly. His joints ached, his vision blurred and he was pretty sure that if he didn't get at least seven feet away, he was going to vomit all over his boots.

"Trying to escape, Superman? You can't wheedle out of this one. For once, I'm going to win. For once, they're going to see you for exactly what you are!"

"They always have. You're the one who's been pretending. Since we met, you've been lying to me, to yourself. I don't think you even know what the truth is any more."

The punch came out of nowhere. One minute, he'd been scanning the roads aurally for the sound of Nightwing's motorcycle, the next, stars exploded in his head and he was flying through two office buildings and a parking lot. So that's what being punched by Superman feels like, he thought nonsensically. Ouch.

Before he could recover, Luthor was there again, delivering another punch. This one shot him through seven floors of car park and back out to the open air. He slammed a crater into the street. Air rushed out of his lungs and his muscles refused to draw in another one. Stiffly, he got up on his hands and knees. He only needed to stall for another four minutes three seconds. Goody.

The hiss-crackle of Luthor's suit reached his eats. Superman managed to dodge the first time Luthor stomped down but he couldn't escape the punch. A titanium fist smashed into his ribs, crushing him down into the street.

Crap.

It was the arm with the laser.

Luthor grinned. The nozzle cracked open, leaking a bit more radiation. It burned through Superman's skin. He felt it raising blisters, smelled his flesh burning even as weakness rippled through his veins and made every nerve scream. With effort, he managed to grab the nozzle with his hands. He pushed. Despite the tremors that rocked his body, he pushed.

"Why is it that all-powerful villains always have one tiny, minute weakness?" Luthor asked in a conversational tone. "The Death Star had that thermal exhaust port. Devilicus had his power gem. Superman has kryptonite." He opened the laser's aperture a bit wider.

Now the kryptonite ray was wide enough to feel like a drill boring into his flesh. His bones-- holy effing… his bones throbbed! Were bones supposed to throb? Grunting with the effort, Superman kicked out to change the angle of the pressure and maybe somehow find a point of imbalance. But the pain was right in front of his face, insistent, loud, fiery. He didn't know how humans dealt with sensation like this. Luthor was talking, monologuing. Clark wished he'd just shut up. His brain was on fire--

Then the weight was disappeared.

Richard. Thank God.

"Dude, you do not mess with Superman!"

His eyes snapped open. No. No, no, nonono. Not Conner.

"Get away from here!" Superman yelled but either his voice was too weak or Conner ignored him. Probably the latter. On the far side of the parking lot, Luthor shoved a bright yellow Hummer off his chest; Conner must have tossed it in an effort to rescue him.

"Is that your sidekick, Superman?" Luthor chuckled. "Feeling our age, are we?"

He rose to his knees, shakily but at least he wasn't prone any more. His ribs protested as did his oxygen starved lungs. "Superboy, fall back."

"It's okay; I got your back, Big Blue."

"But he doesn't have yours?" Luthor pitched the Hummer back.

Conner ducked but the bumper still grazed his forehead. Now that they were level, Superman grabbed the boy's jacket collar and whispered, "That's an order. Get out of here."

"But you need--"

"Now, dammit!" He shoved Conner aside just in time to keep him from connecting with a minivan that Luthor had thrown. Instead, the van smacked his arm. His elbow turned inside out.

Roaring with outrage, Conner rocketed into Luthor, fists straight out like a battering ram. He actually managed to push the exoskeleton back several yards before Luthor dug his toes in. The armour dented but he stopped and in a smooth move that Conner couldn't have seen because he didn't have any training at all, Luthor had him by the neck.

"What did he tell you?" Luthor asked Conner. He shook the boy like an unwanted puppy. "Do you actually think that you're his friend? That he actually gives two shits about anyone but himself?"

Conner's uniform jacket belatedly registered in Superman's brain; the hood and shades hid his face, preventing Luthor from putting two and two together. Small mercies.

"Just watch. He'll take it all away, one lie at a time."

Dragging himself to the nearest post, Superman pulled himself up one-handed to his feet. "Let him go, Luthor. It's me you want, not him. He's just a kid."

Conner had the temerity to be affronted. "I'm not just a kid."

"Yes, you are," said Superman. He caught Conner's gaze and held it. "You're just a kid who doesn't know any better. Go home." Before he could protest any more, Superman turned to Luthor. "I'll do whatever you want. Just let him go home."

Luthor's eyebrows arched behind his helmet. "Whatever I want?"

"Yes. Anything."

"Don't do it!" Conner cried out. "It's the oldest trick in the book. He'll-- urg-- break his promise and-- hurt you... anyway... let go my throat, you ass!" He struggled against Luthor's hold but the kryptonite must affect him too because he couldn't quite move as well. Sweat beaded down his forehead.

"Shut up, you little twit." Luthor batted Conner with the laser arm. Just before it connected, a three-headed talon hooked around Luthor's arm, winding a thin cable around the nozzle.

Nightwing landed soundlessly on top of a car. "Someone called the cavalry?" He yanked the wire; the initial surprise was enough to pull Luthor's arm back a bit but, recovering quickly, he pull back and dragged Nightwing to the ground. The younger man released the hook and rolled out of the fall to stand beside Superman.

"You couldn't've sounded a bugle?" asked Superman.

"Couldn't fit it on my bike."

"Two hundred and fifty-one things on your utility belt and you couldn't fit a bugle."

"The bossman has a utility belt; I get by on my dashing good looks and killer charm." Nightwing took stock of the situation. "Kryptonite-powered exoskeletal war-armour specifically created to take advantage of your every weakness. Have I told you our theory about Luthor's twisted man-crush on you as the source of his insanity?"

"After we get Superboy out of there, I'll be all ears."

"Leave Luthor to me. Every suit of armour has weak spots." He drew shiruken out of his belt.

Just then, Conner slumped, his arms and legs dangling lifeless.

Superman saw red. "God damn you, Luthor!"

His eidetic memory registered five things happening at roughly the same time. Conner's sudden deadweight caused Luthor to shift his hold. Superman was already running, picking up a car along the way to bash into Luthor's skull. Conner's eyes snapped open and he used that bit of movement to slither out of the hold. Nightwing's shiruken sank into the control unit on the exoskeleton's arm, the arm that had once held Conner. Luthor lifted his laser arm, ignoring Conner for the greater prize that was Superman, and opened fire.

He didn't see what came after that. The bright green heat of kryptonite radiation scored his senses. He braced himself for agony. There was a scream but it wasn't his. Jeans and leather fell into his arms and Superman couldn't do anything but catch it. Catch Conner.

Oh God, Conner.

"Shit! Oh shit, oh shit, it hurts, oh shit, it hurts, oh shit, shit, shit!"

The boy, his boy was screaming, curling into foetal position, his hands clawed and his legs jerking with pain. His hood had blown off and his shades hung crookedly from one ear. His chest... God, he hadn't known there was this much blood in a body, human or kryptonian. The sugary-metallic smell of burning meat hit the back of his nose. Superman gagged even as he whipped his cape off.

"I have you, Con," he said. Holding the boy close with one hand, he covered the wound with the cape using the other hand. Blood soaked through immediately. "I have you, son."

"Dad?" he whimpered. "Clark... it... ohgodithurts."

"I know, I know, son, I know, just hold on, okay? Just be strong for a few seconds more."

"Dad." Feebly, Conner reached for him but he fell short, his hand brushing the hope sigil on the Superman costume instead. Then the rest of him fell, eyes rolled back, legs gone limp and his heart stopped.

His heart stopped.

There was screaming again, louder like an animal howling for death as Clark shot to the sun with his child in his arms.

Someone was screaming, howling like an animal hungry for blood. Lois didn't care what she sounded like or how dangerous it was; all she knew was that Luthor shot Conner and she was going to shoot him until his suit was as red as Conner's shirt, as Clark's shirt stained with Conner's blood, as red as her own broken heart.

Her Kimber 1911 weighed nothing in her hands as she ran across the road to where Luthor stood, partially immobilized by the damage Nightwing's shiruken inflicted. Nightwing was still on him, throwing more stars and dodging the normal old bullets from an auxiliary armoury. They didn't see her sneak up from behind.

Nightwing shorted one of the exoskeleton's legs. Luthor crashed to his knees. Lois jumped on top of him, still emptying her clip. Much better to shoot from this range; her tears ruined her aim.

He actually turned to her at one point, his eyes wide with surprise or fear. That was when she saw the crack in the helmet. She pressed the end of the Kimber against the crack and let loose with the remaining bullets. Red splashed against the glass from the inside.

Nightwing pulled her away then, shouting in her ear. Lois thought Luthor was still looking at her through his blood-stained helmet, wide-eyed. She hoped it was fear.