sam_storyteller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sam_storyteller) wrote2012-08-10 08:47 pm
sam_storyteller) wrote2012-08-10 08:47 pm
Entry tags:
Victory Bonds 2/6
Title: Victory Bonds
Rating: PG (for profanity)
Summary: The year is 1947, and Daily Planet front-pagers Clark Kent and "Louis" Lane are about to get the story of their careers, courtesy of the fledgling Justice League: the enigmatic Superman, the spy-turned-vigilante codenamed Bat, intelligence agent and newly minted Green Lantern Alan Scott, and Ambassador Diana, Princess of Themyscira.
Warnings: See Chapter One.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
"I think it's time to stop competing," Lois said the next morning, while we were spitballing ideas for how to follow Bat's -- the Batman's -- slim leads. "I think we should work together on this."
I clutched my heart, giving her a shocked look. She rolled her eyes.
"What did you have in mind?" I asked.
"Well, they already know Louis Lane is after them," she said. "But Louis doesn't exist."
"You're too modest!"
"Shut up, Smallville. It's an open secret, but you'd be surprised how many people don't know I'm a woman. If Louis writes an article about these ratlines, it'll make it tight for them. But they'll come looking for him, not me, not at first."
"Playing bait's a little dangerous."
"Could be worse. If I write the story and get out of town for a few days, you can see who comes crawling out of the woodwork."
"Where would you go?"
She gave me a sly look. "Bruce Wayne invited me to visit Gotham."
I groaned.
"Come on, Bruce is a sweetheart. A total idiot, God knows how he runs Wayne International, but he means well. And it'll give me a chance to take Bat up on his advice to look around."
I didn't think Bruce Wayne had been especially dimwitted when we spoke, but maybe Lois had high standards, or Wayne got tongue-tied around her like I had in our first few weeks. What I did know was that every other month, Bruce Wayne was involved in some scandal or other. He was quite a man for the ladies, and his parties were the stuff of society-column legend. I was beginning to think maybe he had spent the whole time in Japan partying with geishas, like the nastier rumors said.
"I don't like it," I said.
"It's fine. I'll take Betty."
"Who's Betty?"
Lois flashed her revolver. I groaned.
"Clark, if I write this for Perry, he'll run it, and if he runs it, I'm going to Gotham. So soldier along and keep an eye on the place while I'm gone, or don't. Either way, it's happening."
"Fine," I said. "But if you're taking off, let me take a few hours today. I need to see to some other stuff."
"I have a piece to write," she replied, waving me off. "Shoo, Smallville, go pound some pavement."
Half an hour later, Superman touched down at CIG headquarters in Washington, DC. It was an unassuming office building, but there was a government seal on the wall, and guards inside the doors.
Still, it's amazing what kind of clearance Superman gets. I just told the guards that I was there to see Alan Scott, and after a hurried conference on a nearby telephone, one of them escorted me up to the fourth floor, a claustrophobic room full of clattering typewriters and CIG agents cutting things out of newspapers. Scott had an office at one end, and he wasn't alone.
"Well," he said, when the guard showed me in, closing the door behind me. "This is fortunate. I take it you got my message."
"A friend passed word along," I replied, as a woman seated in front of Scott's desk rose to her feet.
"Then you know who I am," Alan said. "This is Princess Diana of Themyscira. She's a diplomatic ambassador to the US," he said. "Diana, this is Superman."
"My pleasure," she said, offering her hand. She had a trace of a Greek accent. "I've heard a lot about you."
She was taller than me by an inch or two, with dark hair done up in crisp, tidy victory curls. She wore a Women's Airforce Service Pilot's duty uniform: blue trousers and a white shirt, with a tie that was non-regulation red, and a leather flight jacket with a Senior Airman's bars on the shoulder. I'd never met a WASP before, but we'd seen them on base a few times.
"You flew for the States," I said, shaking her hand. I could see glints of silver at her wrists.
"Themyscira didn't exactly have its own air force," she said. "And the uniform gets at least an ounce of respect around here."
"Diana's finding diplomacy hard going," Alan said. "But it's good you two have met. She and I are cooking something up that we'd like you to get in on, if you're interested."
"I don't even know you," I pointed out. Which wasn't entirely true, but I was wary.
"And yet you came," he said, smiling. "All we'd need is Bat here, and our little gang would be complete."
"I want to talk to you about him, actually -- "
"Later. I -- we -- have questions for you."
"I didn't come here to be interrogated."
"Just some questions," he said, settling back. "Take a seat. Diana, do you have some time?"
"A few minutes," she said, dropping into her chair. I took the other one, carefully sweeping my cape out of the way. You don't spend a lot of time sitting, as a superhero.
"This is for us only, not for the CIG or the government," Alan said. "Rumor has it you're an alien."
"I don't know," I replied. "I was found in a field as a baby. It's a fair assumption though, given what I was found with."
"You don't know where you came from?" Diana asked.
"No."
"And these powers you have -- flight, heat vision, strength...?"
"Also I'm bulletproof," I added. "Didn't happen until about two years ago. The end of the war."
"So you grew up on this planet, thinking you were...?"
"An ordinary human, yes."
"Interesting. You live in Metropolis."
"Yes..."
"You seem to have lofty ideals," Diana said with a smile. "Protecting your city. Serving the people. Don't think this..." she pointed to my uniform, "doesn't look a little like a police uniform."
"I try," I drawled. "City seemed to need someone like me. So a police officer once told me."
"We're thinking bigger," Alan replied, settling his hands on the desk. His right hand inched towards the fingers of his left; there was a green signet ring with a strange symbol on his index finger. "And I think I may be able to answer some questions for you, if you come aboard."
"Aboard what?"
Alan made a fist with his left hand, and seemed to -- change. One second he was an ordinary man in a mid-range business suit, and the next minute he was wearing...something else. Black, with green bands around his arms and the same symbols as the ring on his chest. A domino mask appeared on his face. His eyes, normally blue, glowed green.
I glanced at Diana. She had taken her jacket off, and was rolling up the sleeves of her shirt to show long metal cuffs on her wrists.
"When the bombs went -- ever since then -- strange things have happened," Alan said. "We drew a lot of attention."
"Attention?"
Alan pointed up. "From the rest of the universe."
I'd have asked if he was kidding, but hell, I'd come to Earth in a meteor shower, and he had a magic ring.
"I was approached, after the war, by two organizations," he said. "The CIG, and the Green Lantern Corps. I said yes to both. The Corps is an intergalactic league of beings armed with this..." he pointed to the ring, "which gives them enormous powers."
He aimed the ring at a lamp on his desk. It turned green, and seemed to levitate. Calmly, he set it back down.
"Our job is galactic defense. I serve this sector, but more specifically Earth; I've been charged with protecting us against a lot of interested parties who could prey on this planet." He looked me in the eye. "I have friends in the Corps who've been around, and they told me about someone called the son of Krypton. The last survivor of a race that was utterly destroyed; as an infant he was sent out into the galaxy, and word has it he ended up somewhere around...here."
"Krypton," I repeated, rolling the word around in my mouth, trying it out. "You think I'm him."
"I think if you wanted, there would be more you could find out. I can connect you to people who know more than I do."
"What's the catch?"
"Cynical, isn't he?" Alan asked Diana, amused. "Diana and I are forming a league of people like...well, like us. You and me, and Diana, who incidentally could probably take you in a fight."
I looked at her, skeptical. She picked up a stone paperweight from Alan's desk, glancing at him. He nodded, and she crushed it one-handed. She took a fragment, placed it between her cuffs, and ground them together, turning the stone to powder. The cuffs weren't even scratched.
"Well, I'm sold on you," I told her.
"If I had a drachma for every time I heard that," she replied, smiling.
"Did the army know you could do that?"
"They knew enough," she replied. "I've never made a secret of it."
"As fascinating as Diana's past history is, to return to business," Alan drawled. "The feeling is that we're the first, but we won't be the last. We want to put a structure in place so that when others like us discover who they are, they'll have somewhere to go, someone to train them. Bat's in too; he's not...quite like us, but he's very driven, and besides, we need someone with a brain like his. You've put two and two together, haven't you?"
"He's Batman. The vigilante of Gotham."
"The CIG turns a blind eye as long as he doesn't kill anyone. He's doing good work, and he's smart as a whip. There'll be more like him, and maybe they won't have quite his moral code. And if we're rising up on this side..." Alan spread his hands. "What's rising up on the other?"
"I'm more interested in the question of who's supervising this venture," I replied. "I'm not working for the government. I served my tour."
"Did you," Alan said, grinning. "Nobody supervises us. I can arrange for the blessing of the US Government, but they won't control our activities. Think of it more like a volunteer position. We train together, we work together when we have to, and we see to our own business the rest of the time."
I glanced at Diana. She shrugged and smiled. "Seemed like a good time, to me. The four of us could do a lot of good, set a lot of standards."
"Then I'm in, I suppose," I said. "What are we calling ourselves?"
"I thought the League of Heroes sounded appropriate," Diana said.
"I still think that's putting ourselves up a little high," Alan added.
"What about...the Justice League?" I asked.
Diana and Alan glanced at each other.
"Told you he'd be useful," Alan said.
"So you did, and I didn't disagree, if you'll remember," she said, rolling down her sleeves and shrugging back into her flight jacket. "I think you two have other matters to discuss, and I have business to see to. Very nice to meet you -- I'm sure we'll speak again soon," she said to me, and stood. "Don't get up, boys, I'll see myself out."
When she was gone, I looked back at Alan, who had changed back into his ordinary clothes. "She's something else," I said.
"She's a princess from a race of Amazons who have access to powers the rest of the world only dreams of, and her mother is an actual goddess," Alan said. "I'm just glad as hell she's on our side."
"No kiddin'," I said.
"So you needed to speak to me about Batman?"
I nodded. "I need to pass a message and ask a favor."
"Well, that's how the...Justice League works, at least I hope," he said.
"Do you know who he is?"
"Nobody but his handler knows that, if he even knows. One of our guys is undercover in Gotham investigating police corruption, he said he'd handle Bat. Even so it took Bat months to trust him. He's still uncertain about the League, but I'm talking him around. You'd probably do a better job of it."
"Does he know who you are?"
"Yes. Does he know who you are?"
"Nobody knows who I am," I said.
"Don't be so sure. Bat's a detective, he has ways and means. Anyway, what did you need? I'll talk to our man in Gotham."
"Louis Lane from the Planet -- do you know Louis?"
"Only from his columns. He works with a pal of mine, Kent. Kent's the one I asked to invite you up here."
"Yeah, so I heard," I said, wondering, as always, how nobody recognized me. I should have thought to wear a mask when I was starting out, but apparently I didn't need one. "Lane's coming to Gotham for a few days, to take Bat up on some offer he made. I wanted to let Bat know, and ask him to keep an eye out. He knows who to look for."
"Lane likely to get into trouble?"
"It's practically a guarantee."
"I'll keep him informed. This was good," Alan said, toying with his ring. "A good start. I'll circle around with Bat and -- how do I get in touch with you? Kent again?"
I considered, not for the first time, having some kind of Superman-only telephone line installed. "Sure. He knows how, now."
"Hey, watch him, would you? Kid's a lamb. Good soldier but not exactly streetwise, and he's getting in over his head with some business down in Metropolis."
I smiled, standing. "I'll look in on him. Good to meet you, Mr. Scott."
Alan grinned back. "Call me Green Lantern."
By the time I left, there was a small crowd of people who had clearly seen me go in; someone was there with a camera, and I signed a few autograph books before the local press got to me. I like being a reporter, but there's something to be said for lifting off and leaving them disappointed when they're about to start bothering you.
"Christ, where have you been?" Lois asked, when I returned to the newsroom. "My article's in the bag, it's going out as a feature tomorrow with Jimmy's picture of the swastika, I'm on the six pm train to Gotham, Superman visited the federal government today, and I need to buy a dress."
"Uh?" I tried.
"Clark! Focus! Superman! Perry wants you on the story and he was about to put me on it and I can't because I called Bruce Wayne and he's throwing a costume ball in my honor and I need a dress."
I sighed. Easy enough to write a story about my own visit to the CIG, especially since I could control exactly what went in it (my favorite sentence has always been "Superman was unavailable for comment", which is good because I write it a lot) but Lois was going to go buy some undoubtedly devastating dress in which to dance some more with Bruce Wayne. Life was unfair.
"Go," I said. "I'll cover the Superman thing. Remember he's an idiot!" I called, as she ran out of the newsroom. "Stupid Bruce Wayne," I muttered to myself.
***
I very resolutely managed to stay out of Gotham for the entire four days that Lois was gone. Alan had said Batman would be looking out for her, and she'd said she could handle herself anyway. Besides, I might have been jealous of Bruce Wayne's easy ability to charm, but I wasn't the kind of creep who'd follow a woman to another city just to glare at the competition.
I might consider it, because it wasn't like I couldn't just...zip over and back again, but I wouldn't do it. Well, nobody's perfect.
I did have work of my own to do, too. Lois's column didn't seem to stir up anything overt; no more swastikas on the doors. But on the second day after it ran, the day Bruce Wayne was throwing his big costume ball -- not that I was paying attention -- it happened.
Lex Luthor tried to buy the Daily Planet.
I didn't know much about Luthor, not any more than anyone else did, I supposed. He'd shown up in Metropolis in '45, ready to spend and build and, so it seemed, catapult the city into the new postwar era. Nobody knew where his money had come from. If anyone knew where he himself had come from, they kept it to themselves.
"Self-made man," Lois had posited one night, sharing a late dinner in the newsroom. "Like Jay Gatsby," she added darkly.
"Little young for Gatsby's line of work," I replied. "How do you figure, anyway?"
"He reeks of New Money. Overspending, joining all the right clubs, trying to impress people -- Old Money doesn't need to impress anyone, it assumes all lower life forms come pre-impressed. At least he's not some thug with no class, I guess."
"Seems smart enough."
"Oh, he's brilliant at what he does. Plays his cards right, he'll be mayor of Metropolis in ten years."
"Well, maybe I should quit and go work for him. He probably needs a speechwriter," I joked. Lois glanced at me skeptically.
"Don't leave the Daily Planet," she said quietly, one of the few times I've seen her talk about me with any seriousness. "Especially not to work for him. Anything he could get you isn't worth your soul."
"He's not the devil, Lois."
"He's no angel, either."
And there he was, walking through the newsroom, chatting amiably with Burt Mason, the owner of the paper, who was about a hundred years old and Lois always said had apprenticed to Benjamin Franklin. We all knew that the Planet had been quietly "available" for a few years, but Burt didn't seem to be in any hurry to sell before, and there hadn't been any buyers anyway.
"What's Lex Luthor doing here?" Jimmy asked, casually leaning on my desk.
"Hell if I know," I said. "More importantly, why's he so chummy with Mason?"
"You think he's..." Jimmy rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign for money. "Making an offer?"
At which point my phone rang.
"Kent, Daily Planet," I said, still watching as Mason gave Luthor a tour of the newsroom.
"Clark, it's Lois."
"Oh! Hey, how's Gotham? Is it everything you hoped and dreamed?" I asked drily.
"Well, Wayne Manor certainly is -- "
"You're staying with him?"
"There's about a dozen people staying with him, Clark, it's like a country house party. Charming. I've barely seen him. Stop being a ninny."
"And your other investigation?"
"Well, I've had a truly delightful tour of the smellier parts of the Gotham shipping and transport scene," she sighed. "No luck, but I'm not done yet. Hey, I had a thought. Doesn't Metropolis do more import-export than Gotham?"
"I think so. I'd have to check with Research."
"So why are these ratlines originating in Gotham?"
"Maybe their HQ is in Gotham."
"Or it's in Metropolis, and whoever's running everything doesn't want to get their hands dirty."
"I'll look into it, for what it's worth, but I should probably hang up now, Lois, because I think Burt Mason's about to sell."
"What?"
"He's giving Lex Luthor the two-dollar tour. Jimmy -- " Jimmy gave a wave, " -- Jimmy says hi, and he thinks Luthor's going to make an offer. I think so too."
"And me stuck in Gotham. Clark, can't you stall them or something?"
"Stall them with what? And why? We knew Mason would sell sooner or later."
There was a click on the line, and a voice said, "Hello? Is this line free?"
"Who is this?" I asked.
"This is Bruce Wayne, and you're using my telephone," the voice said, sounding amused.
"Bruce! I'm sorry, it's Lois, I was just checking in at the Planet," Lois said. "I'm on the front hall extension."
"I'm in the library. How funny! That's very dedicated of you, but if it's not urgent, I have some incredibly boring stockholder issues I need to handle before the ball tonight."
"I'll ring off," I said. "Look after yourself, Lois."
"Was that Kent?" I heard Wayne ask, as I hung up the phone. "He's pretty joyless, eh?"
I let my head fall to my desk, sighing. Jimmy patted the back of it.
"Least we're not in two feet of mud and getting shot at," he said.
The funny thing was, though, that Luthor didn't get the Planet. By the time he and Mason were behind closed doors, the entire paper was humming with the rumor that he was going to buy; I could see Perry trying to listen to their conversation with a glass pressed up against the wall his office shared with Mason's.
After about ten minutes, the door to Mason's office flew open and Luthor stormed out, eyes burning, fists clenched, and everyone scurried to get out of this way. He slammed the newsroom door behind him as he left, and all eyes went back to Burt Mason's office. Mason was standing in the doorway, looking amused.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "The Daily Planet is now out of my hands. Your new owner wishes to remain anonymous, but I can promise you that man just there wasn't him. Some tomfool called while we were haggling and offered twice what Luthor wanted to pay. Damndest thing."
"Are you quitting, Burt?" Perry asked.
"I'm moving to god damned Bermuda and spending the rest of my life drinking booze out of coconut shells, Perry," Mason said.
"But who's going to run the paper?" Jimmy asked.
Mason looked at him as if he were trying to remember who he was. "Oh, for heaven's sake. White's been running it for years already. You all must think I do a lot more work than I do around here. Enjoy your new owner!" he added, and swanned out.
Utter silence fell over the newsroom.
"Well?" Perry said, after a moment. "Get cracking, everyone, this paper doesn't print itself!"
***
Lois was supposed to come back to Metropolis on the Saturday afternoon train; she'd asked me to come down and meet her and drive her home, because apparently I was the only other person that she trusted with her little red two-seat roadster. I have to admit it was a nice car to drive.
Instead, however, I got a telephone call on -- well, technically Saturday morning.
It was only good sense to keep the telephone next to the bed, seeing as how we often got middle-of-the-night calls to go out and cover something happening. When it rang, I managed to fumble the lamp on before answering, expecting Perry's voice barking orders (the man never seemed to sleep).
"This is Kent," I mumbled, already throwing back the blankets.
"Clark, it's Lois," she said, and I was instantly awake.
"Lois?" I asked. "It's two in the morning, what's wrong? Did you catch the sleeper train and I mixed up the time?"
"No. I'm at a Gotham City police station."
"Holy -- what are you doing there?"
"I shot a man."
I rubbed my eyes. "Fatally?"
"Kneecap. He'll live, but he'll never win any footraces again."
"Are you under arrest?"
"I'm not sure," she said. "It was self-defense, technically, but the Gotham cops, I swear. These guys scare me more than the Gotham criminals do. Anyway, I wanted someone to know where I am. I snuck over to a Sergeant's desk and called."
"Lois! You can't steal long-distance from the police!"
"Well, I am, so deal with it," she growled.
"Do you need me to wire you bail?"
"Sweet Smallville. Maybe, but I don't think so. Here's a hot tip if you can do anything with it."
"So hot you called me illegally at two in the morning?" I grumbled, but I reached for my notebook. "Fire away."
"The man I shot was working for the ratline. I saw him unloading passengers from what was supposed to be a fishing boat. It's an old rum-runner trick -- "
"Moor out at sea, unload the cargo into a smaller boat, speed it in," I said, nodding, not that she could see.
"Right. He had a whole line of cars and a big cargo truck with him. That's why we can't catch them, Clark, they're totally mobile. No safe houses. Not in Gotham, anyway. They have to have somewhere in Metropolis where they can pick up their new papers, at least. We need to look for a warehouse, somewhere with lots of parking and space for a forgery operation. And I have a description of the cargo truck -- it has to be some kind of movable headquarters."
"Got it. I can work with this, I think Perry knows someone in the city planner's office. There's gotta be a million of them, but I'm sure we can find something."
"I took down the numbers of some of the plates before they drove off. They don't know I'm onto them; the only guy they left behind is the one I shot, so unless he's tipped off the police -- "
"A very real possibility."
"I know. But at least now we know a little more."
"And it's really good work. I'll have something for you by the time you get in tomorrow," I said, and then paused. "Why didn't you call Bruce Wayne?"
There was a soft sigh on the line. "If you don't know that, Smallville..."
"No, I don't know. He has money and connections and he's in Gotham. He can get you out of there. You need to hang up and call him, if you can. Or I will."
"I told you, he's a -- Clark, I have to go," she said. "Batman just walked into the precinct. Three o'clock on the platform tomorrow, meet me there! Don't call me, I'll call when I can."
"Lois, wait -- " I said, but the line had gone dead.
I could try and call the Gotham police, but I didn't know what precinct she was being kept in, and I didn't want to give away that she'd called. I could get to Gotham in under half an hour, but that might blow an even bigger game. And if Batman was there -- I'd asked him to look after her --
I decided to be patient. Presumably she still had Betty, and she had allies in Gotham. Besides, when a reporter disappears, it's bad publicity for everyone concerned. That's not to say I didn't pace the floor quite a lot, but the wait was rewarded: twenty minutes later, the phone rang.
"Lois?" I asked, picking it up.
"My apologies, Mr. Kent," said a voice on the line -- English accent, particularly stuffy. "My name is Alfred. I'm Mr. Wayne's butler. Miss Lane asked me to let you know that she's been safely returned to Wayne Manor."
"Let me speak to her."
"Quite out of the question, I'm afraid; she's already asleep. These police ruffians will wear a person out," he said. "That Batman fellow brought her to our door, and I can't imagine that was particularly pleasant either. She seemed unharmed, however, and says she'll see you at the station at three, per your arrangement."
"Where the hell is Wayne?" I demanded. "Did she call him?"
"Master Bruce is not at the manor at present, but rest assured Miss Lane is quite safe. Have you any reply to give her?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, sighing. "Tell her -- tell her I'll see her at the station, and I'm working on the project she told me to look into."
"Just so, Mr. Kent. Good morning," he said, and hung up.
I sighed and set the handset down in its cradle. Might as well get a start on the day.
***
Lois arrived on the three o'clock train, just as planned -- and she had Bruce Wayne with her.
"Clark!" she called, waving, and I took in the two of them: Lois looking eager and self-satisfied (if a little tired), Wayne carrying her suitcase and hovering over her like a porter waiting for a tip. At least he seemed to have left his butler in Gotham.
"Welcome back," I said, reaching for her suitcase. Wayne kept a tight grip on it. "I see someone followed you home."
"Bruce was worried about me getting out of Gotham," she said, patting his arm affectionately.
"I'm not much of a fighter but I did study boxing at boarding school," he said, making a weak fist and waving it ineffectually. "And I thought, if nothing else, I could call for help. Good to see you again, Kent."
"Likewise," I said through gritted teeth.
"Well, gorgeous, this is where I leave you," he said, kissing Lois's hand. "I'll be in Metropolis until tomorrow night; call me if any more fiends threaten you. I have a suite at the Metropolis Grand," he added, loading her suitcase into the car. "Taxi!"
"Oh, thank god," Lois said, as I handed her the keys and Wayne disappeared into a cab. "He talked the entire trip back. He's charming for the first ten minutes and then insufferable."
"What did you do?"
"Feigned sleep," she said, tossing me a grin as she pulled out into traffic. It turned oddly fond. "I'm glad to be back in Metropolis."
"No more kneecapping thugs?" I asked. "You have to tell me the full story, now that you're not defrauding the police."
"Not much to tell. It was sheer luck I happened to see the boat come in -- I flipped a coin for where I should go, it came up with the fishing wharves. I saw a bunch of cars and the truck; saw the transfer go down. They left and I was about to get away when the one stupid guy they left behind caught me. I don't think he knows I saw anything. I played dumb till I shot him."
"Your modus operandi."
"I try," she said, laughing. "Anyway, a passing patrol heard the gunfire and came and arrested us both. I called you, and you know the rest."
"Hardly," I said. "Batman showed up?"
"Yeah. Walked right into the precinct. That was strange. But he must have connections; he sprung me and drove me home. His car..." she whistled low. "He might be a head case but he has style."
"Oh?"
"The man dresses up like a bat," she said.
"Yeah, but Superman -- "
"That's different! Superman doesn't sneak around at night, and his uniform makes sense. Sort of. I mean I'm glad Batman came and helped me out of a tight spot and all, but he's a little..." she circled her finger next to her head. "I kept trying to get an in for an interview and he kept...grunting." She sighed. "Well, win some, lose some. So what did you find?"
"Seven warehouses that fit the requirements," I said, reading out of my notebook. "Assuming they're using an abandoned one, and not a legitimate business or a criminal enterprise. I also assumed most of the crooks in Metropolis steer clear of them. We'd have heard more about them if they were working with locals."
"You check any of them out?"
"Not yet. Daylight seems a little conspicuous. I thought we could snoop around tonight."
"Boy, you sure know how to show a gal a good time."
"Well, it's not canapés and champagne, but I promise you I can throw a better punch than Bruce Wayne."
"Smallville, I can throw a better punch than Bruce Wayne."
"So his charms really wore off, huh?"
"I'm telling you, Clark, there's something in the water in Gotham. Anyway, he's a story. He's always a story, and he's a resource, and he has connections. I'm not interested in him. I'm not even gold-digging him."
"I never said you were."
"Well, good," she said.
"All right," I answered.
"So I'll see you tonight, then?" she asked, pulling up outside of my building.
"The diner near the Planet? Nine o'clock?"
"Better get my beauty rest in the meantime. You too, you look worn down."
"Well, a friend of mine woke me up at two in the morning," I said, and she smiled.
"Reliable Clark. Go write home to Ma and Pa," she said, and roared off in the roadster.
"Reliable. Great," I repeated.
***
Metropolis, being a coastal city, always did a lot of shipping and storage. There's an extensive dock district full of warehouses, some of them crumbling, others havens for criminals and thugs. Some had lead paint, which made it harder to see through the walls into them -- for some reason my x-ray vision doesn't work on lead. It wasn't indulgence that drove me to go with Lois to check out the warehouses; two heads were better than one, and anyway Superman would have tipped them off that we were getting closer.
"So you really got no response from that article on the ratlines I worked so hard on?" Lois asked, as we climbed a fire escape of an occupied warehouse to see if we could look across the street into the windows of an empty one. We were on our fourth of the seven on my list, and having no luck.
"Nothing concrete," I answered. "I did pay attention," I added, when she gave me a dry look.
"Well, I got yelled at by Batman for it," she sighed, "so I guess I'm not any better off."
"You got -- I thought you said he just grunted!"
She settled on the roof, crouching low, peering over the edge. "There may have been a few choice words about making his and Superman's job harder."
"Wonder if he checked with Superman before speaking for him."
"Who knows how the capes do things," Lois said. "I could use a word with him, though, see if he's seen anything."
"Are those opera glasses?" I asked, as she peered through a tiny pair of binoculars.
"I can't like opera?" she retorted.
"You hate opera."
"You hate opera."
"Yes, we both hate opera, we discussed this months ago."
"They fit in my purse," she said, sounding annoyed. "Excuse me if the US Army isn't the one outfitting my combat gear."
"They're lovely opera glasses," I replied.
"Thank you. But they're useless here, since that warehouse is definitely empty." She settled back, sighing. "I really did think that article would get some attention."
"Well, aside from Lex Luthor trying to buy the Planet..."
"Lex Luthor wouldn't be involved in a ratline, would he?"
"You said yourself you thought he was some kind of crook."
"Only that nobody knows where his money came from. What kind of rich guy would try to get richer helping Nazis?"
"I don't know," I said. "Evil rich guy?"
"Well, at least he didn't get the paper. I don't trust him. So where's the next warehouse on the list?"
"It's a mile north of here, and it's empty as well," a voice said, and we both turned. Lois's hand went into her purse for Betty. "Easy, Lane."
There was a shadow on the rooftop, crouched on a gargoyle, moonlight glinting off metal here and there. He jumped down lightly and stood there, studying us: wide shoulders, thick arms, and arrogance in every inch of his stance.
"Batman," I said.
"You two are going to get yourselves killed," he replied. "I cleared the last three on your list. If this one is clear, then your list is wrong."
"Well, gee, thanks for -- "
"Come with me," he interrupted, and jumped off the top of a building again. I looked at Lois. She shrugged and started down the fire escape.
He didn't really walk with us so much as lead us, never quite fully visible; at times he paused for no apparent reason, signalled us to pause too, and then went on. We finally scrambled up another fire escape after him and into the second floor of a rundown apartment building. It had been furnished -- well, it had a table, two chairs, and a cot nearby -- and one wall was covered with pinned-up paper.
"You have a secret lair in Metropolis?" I asked. I was thinking I should probably have some kind of secret lair.
"I needed room to work."
"And the spread?" Lois was inspecting his wall of papers: newspaper clippings, scrawled handwritten notes, photographs.
"The work I needed room for. I find it helps me think," Batman said.
"Makes you look a little nutty," Lois replied.
"You're one to talk, Louis."
"Hey, that's a necessary evil." She leaned closer to one of the papers. "This is -- this is from my desk! And Clark, this is one of yours. These are Daily Planet papers. You broke into the Planet after we left?" she demanded, turning on him.
"Vigilante," he said coolly. "It's what I do."
"You had no right to rifle through my desk! Our desks!"
"Arrest me," he replied, offering his wrists. Lois glared. "No? Then can we get back to solving this problem?"
"More importantly, why is this even here?" I asked, tapping one of my own papers. "Science lab break-ins? You think they're connected?"
"The thefts started around the same time the ratline opened," Batman said. "And I can guess who was coming through, based on them. Either of you familiar with Operation Paperclip?"
I looked at Lois. She nodded.
"Rumors only," she said. "The government offered asylum to Nazi scientists in return for their help with our rocket program."
"Not all the scientists they were after wanted to work for them. Someone opened this ratline specifically to import rocket technicians to Metropolis. They're building something. A bomb, possibly. Or something more sinister."
"More sinister than a bomb?" I asked, thinking of the screams I'd heard, the night they bombed Hiroshima.
"Four years ago, did you imagine the atomic bomb could even exist?" he asked. "There's always something worse, if you know how to do it right. The ratline's just a symptom. Nasty, but not the real point. The point was to get the scientists. And build the whatever-it-is."
"We're not looking at the right warehouses," I said quietly.
"You're not looking for a printing press, that's for sure," he replied. "I'd say more like a large hangar with a chemistry lab attached. Somewhere remote. Not necessarily near the docks. The men they're not shipping south, they're keeping there." He paused. "And I think Lex Luthor will own the property, when we find it."
"Why?" I asked.
"The same reason Lane does. Her little call out in the paper got him interested. I know he tried to buy the Planet."
"You know who beat him to the punch?" Lois asked.
"Yes," he said with a small smile. "But I'm not telling you. I have a few names of Luthor's shell corporations," he added, pulling one of the pinned-up papers down and offering it to her. "If you can find his property holdings, you can find where he's building...what he's building. You'll find the scientists there, and if you're lucky you'll crack the ratline in half."
"Why are we doing all this?" I asked.
"Your town, your beat. Your exclusive."
"What are you doing in the meantime?" Lois asked.
"I have a city to look after, but I'll be watching. You find what you're looking for, I'll know. Don't do anything heroic; leave that to the heroes."
"The Justice League," I said, and then realized my mistake. Two sets of blue eyes turned to me, curious.
"What's the Justice League?" they asked in unison; Lois curious, Batman sardonic.
They looked sharply at each other. It was almost funny, really.
"Ah," I said.
"Seems you two have some things to discuss," Batman announced. "Try not to splash it all over the front page, huh? And if you see Superman," he added, climbing out the window, with a pointed look at me over his shoulder, "tell him we need to talk."
"He does love to make an exit," Lois said, into the awkward silence that followed. "Justice League, huh?"
"It's a thing some people are doing," I replied.
"Heroic people? Like Superman and Batman?"
"And maybe a few others. Look, I don't know more than that."
"You got an exclusive from Superman, didn't you?" she accused.
"Uhh..."
"You ass!"
"Hey, if you had, would you have asked me along?" I asked. "It was just once and I'm not allowed to print anything yet."
"I would have at least mentioned it!"
"You would have gloated."
"Look, I didn't get into the newspaper business for the big paycheck," she said, but then she smiled. "Fine, Smallville, have it your way. Come on, I'll give you a lift home."
I went upstairs when Lois dropped me off, then further up, changing in the little stairwell that led from my apartment to the roof. I figured Batman would find me before I found him, and I wasn't wrong; not ten minutes after I took off looking, I saw a light flashing at the top of the south bridge. It spans the Dysee river that comes down from Gotham, turning that city into an island before it flows south to mark the western edge of Metropolis. I landed lightly, and he switched off the electric lamp, setting it aside.
"You've been talking to Kent," he said, without greeting.
"Am I here to get scolded like a kid?" I asked.
"You are a kid."
"Kent's a resource. If I didn't talk to him, we wouldn't be meeting here now. Can't say I'm overjoyed to see you in Metropolis."
"Believe me, I'm not overjoyed to be here." He was studying me, clearly looking for weak spots, vulnerabilities. "Seriously, are you old enough to be in this business?"
"Did you want something, Batman?"
"I thought we should meet. Seeing as Lantern and Diana invited you aboard," he said. "Justice League, huh?"
"Seemed apt."
"I suspect you're going to need some help in Metropolis soon. Kent keep you up to date on what's happening?"
"More or less." I tilted my head. "But I have no way of calling for help even if I need it."
"Ah." He dug in one of the pouches on his belt and tossed me a square object about the size of my palm, and perhaps a quarter of an inch thick. There was a catch on one end, and I opened it. Inside was a switch and what looked like a microscope slide.
"It's crude, but it does the job," he said. "It operates on a very specific, boosted radio frequency. Flip the switch."
I flipped it, and immediately there was a whistling noise. He took out an identical box and opened it, showing me the interior of his. The glass slide was glowing faintly blue. I switched off, and the light died.
"Blue for Metropolis. Yellow for Gotham. Red for Washington. Well." He tilted his head. "For the people who live there, anyway. Diana's and Lantern's both flash red. If you're in Gotham and you sound the alarm it'll still flash blue, and if you're more than about five hundred miles away it won't work at all, so use with care. I'm working on the problem."
"This is amazing," I said. "Where'd you get it?"
"I built them."
"You what?"
"I don't have the strength of a hundred men or magical bulletproof bracelets or a ring that lets me fly," he said without bitterness. "I -- "
Behind his mask, his eyes narrowed.
"What?" I asked.
"You're wearing something under the uniform," he said, pointing to my chest.
"So?"
"So I want to know if we're being recorded."
I rolled my eyes and reached under my cape, fingers catching the thin chain there. I pulled out the medal that hung on the chain, showing it to him.
"Saint's medal?" he asked, drawing closer.
"No," I said, defensively. "It was -- found with me. It's nothing."
He held out his hand, questioningly. I sighed and let it fall into his palm.
It was a small thing, not bigger than a quarter; some kind of metal, with a blue gem embedded in the center. That and the cape were all I had; Pa destroyed the ship I came in when I was two. A Census man had come around asking questions about why I didn't have a birth certificate. Ma and Pa got jumpy.
"I'd like a closer look at -- "
"No," I said, pulling the medal back. He frowned.
"Lantern says you're the son of Krypton, whatever that means."
"Lantern talks too much."
He snorted. "In the meantime, I have to get back to Gotham. When the bat's away, you know. Keep in touch with Kent. Signal me when he and Lane find something."
"You seem pretty sure they will."
"Lane's sharp. Kent's dogged. They'll turn up something. And hey," he added, "our business is private. Justice League's not even off the ground yet, we don't need reporters hearing about it from you. Keep your babyfaced mouth shut."
"Kent's all right."
"Forgive me for not believing you," he said.
"This League won't work if we don't trust each other. I'll handle Kent and Lane."
"See that you do," he said.
He was fast, I gave him that; he stepped backwards from the top of the tower, onto the suspension cable, and slid down to the foot of the bridge, disappearing into the darkness.
***
Historical notes:
The Women Airforce Service Pilots flew with distinction during WWII. You can see Diana's "duty" uniform and flying leathers here. (And thanks tospiderine for the suggestion that Diana be a WASP!)
Chapter Three
Rating: PG (for profanity)
Summary: The year is 1947, and Daily Planet front-pagers Clark Kent and "Louis" Lane are about to get the story of their careers, courtesy of the fledgling Justice League: the enigmatic Superman, the spy-turned-vigilante codenamed Bat, intelligence agent and newly minted Green Lantern Alan Scott, and Ambassador Diana, Princess of Themyscira.
Warnings: See Chapter One.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
"I think it's time to stop competing," Lois said the next morning, while we were spitballing ideas for how to follow Bat's -- the Batman's -- slim leads. "I think we should work together on this."
I clutched my heart, giving her a shocked look. She rolled her eyes.
"What did you have in mind?" I asked.
"Well, they already know Louis Lane is after them," she said. "But Louis doesn't exist."
"You're too modest!"
"Shut up, Smallville. It's an open secret, but you'd be surprised how many people don't know I'm a woman. If Louis writes an article about these ratlines, it'll make it tight for them. But they'll come looking for him, not me, not at first."
"Playing bait's a little dangerous."
"Could be worse. If I write the story and get out of town for a few days, you can see who comes crawling out of the woodwork."
"Where would you go?"
She gave me a sly look. "Bruce Wayne invited me to visit Gotham."
I groaned.
"Come on, Bruce is a sweetheart. A total idiot, God knows how he runs Wayne International, but he means well. And it'll give me a chance to take Bat up on his advice to look around."
I didn't think Bruce Wayne had been especially dimwitted when we spoke, but maybe Lois had high standards, or Wayne got tongue-tied around her like I had in our first few weeks. What I did know was that every other month, Bruce Wayne was involved in some scandal or other. He was quite a man for the ladies, and his parties were the stuff of society-column legend. I was beginning to think maybe he had spent the whole time in Japan partying with geishas, like the nastier rumors said.
"I don't like it," I said.
"It's fine. I'll take Betty."
"Who's Betty?"
Lois flashed her revolver. I groaned.
"Clark, if I write this for Perry, he'll run it, and if he runs it, I'm going to Gotham. So soldier along and keep an eye on the place while I'm gone, or don't. Either way, it's happening."
"Fine," I said. "But if you're taking off, let me take a few hours today. I need to see to some other stuff."
"I have a piece to write," she replied, waving me off. "Shoo, Smallville, go pound some pavement."
Half an hour later, Superman touched down at CIG headquarters in Washington, DC. It was an unassuming office building, but there was a government seal on the wall, and guards inside the doors.
Still, it's amazing what kind of clearance Superman gets. I just told the guards that I was there to see Alan Scott, and after a hurried conference on a nearby telephone, one of them escorted me up to the fourth floor, a claustrophobic room full of clattering typewriters and CIG agents cutting things out of newspapers. Scott had an office at one end, and he wasn't alone.
"Well," he said, when the guard showed me in, closing the door behind me. "This is fortunate. I take it you got my message."
"A friend passed word along," I replied, as a woman seated in front of Scott's desk rose to her feet.
"Then you know who I am," Alan said. "This is Princess Diana of Themyscira. She's a diplomatic ambassador to the US," he said. "Diana, this is Superman."
"My pleasure," she said, offering her hand. She had a trace of a Greek accent. "I've heard a lot about you."
She was taller than me by an inch or two, with dark hair done up in crisp, tidy victory curls. She wore a Women's Airforce Service Pilot's duty uniform: blue trousers and a white shirt, with a tie that was non-regulation red, and a leather flight jacket with a Senior Airman's bars on the shoulder. I'd never met a WASP before, but we'd seen them on base a few times.
"You flew for the States," I said, shaking her hand. I could see glints of silver at her wrists.
"Themyscira didn't exactly have its own air force," she said. "And the uniform gets at least an ounce of respect around here."
"Diana's finding diplomacy hard going," Alan said. "But it's good you two have met. She and I are cooking something up that we'd like you to get in on, if you're interested."
"I don't even know you," I pointed out. Which wasn't entirely true, but I was wary.
"And yet you came," he said, smiling. "All we'd need is Bat here, and our little gang would be complete."
"I want to talk to you about him, actually -- "
"Later. I -- we -- have questions for you."
"I didn't come here to be interrogated."
"Just some questions," he said, settling back. "Take a seat. Diana, do you have some time?"
"A few minutes," she said, dropping into her chair. I took the other one, carefully sweeping my cape out of the way. You don't spend a lot of time sitting, as a superhero.
"This is for us only, not for the CIG or the government," Alan said. "Rumor has it you're an alien."
"I don't know," I replied. "I was found in a field as a baby. It's a fair assumption though, given what I was found with."
"You don't know where you came from?" Diana asked.
"No."
"And these powers you have -- flight, heat vision, strength...?"
"Also I'm bulletproof," I added. "Didn't happen until about two years ago. The end of the war."
"So you grew up on this planet, thinking you were...?"
"An ordinary human, yes."
"Interesting. You live in Metropolis."
"Yes..."
"You seem to have lofty ideals," Diana said with a smile. "Protecting your city. Serving the people. Don't think this..." she pointed to my uniform, "doesn't look a little like a police uniform."
"I try," I drawled. "City seemed to need someone like me. So a police officer once told me."
"We're thinking bigger," Alan replied, settling his hands on the desk. His right hand inched towards the fingers of his left; there was a green signet ring with a strange symbol on his index finger. "And I think I may be able to answer some questions for you, if you come aboard."
"Aboard what?"
Alan made a fist with his left hand, and seemed to -- change. One second he was an ordinary man in a mid-range business suit, and the next minute he was wearing...something else. Black, with green bands around his arms and the same symbols as the ring on his chest. A domino mask appeared on his face. His eyes, normally blue, glowed green.
I glanced at Diana. She had taken her jacket off, and was rolling up the sleeves of her shirt to show long metal cuffs on her wrists.
"When the bombs went -- ever since then -- strange things have happened," Alan said. "We drew a lot of attention."
"Attention?"
Alan pointed up. "From the rest of the universe."
I'd have asked if he was kidding, but hell, I'd come to Earth in a meteor shower, and he had a magic ring.
"I was approached, after the war, by two organizations," he said. "The CIG, and the Green Lantern Corps. I said yes to both. The Corps is an intergalactic league of beings armed with this..." he pointed to the ring, "which gives them enormous powers."
He aimed the ring at a lamp on his desk. It turned green, and seemed to levitate. Calmly, he set it back down.
"Our job is galactic defense. I serve this sector, but more specifically Earth; I've been charged with protecting us against a lot of interested parties who could prey on this planet." He looked me in the eye. "I have friends in the Corps who've been around, and they told me about someone called the son of Krypton. The last survivor of a race that was utterly destroyed; as an infant he was sent out into the galaxy, and word has it he ended up somewhere around...here."
"Krypton," I repeated, rolling the word around in my mouth, trying it out. "You think I'm him."
"I think if you wanted, there would be more you could find out. I can connect you to people who know more than I do."
"What's the catch?"
"Cynical, isn't he?" Alan asked Diana, amused. "Diana and I are forming a league of people like...well, like us. You and me, and Diana, who incidentally could probably take you in a fight."
I looked at her, skeptical. She picked up a stone paperweight from Alan's desk, glancing at him. He nodded, and she crushed it one-handed. She took a fragment, placed it between her cuffs, and ground them together, turning the stone to powder. The cuffs weren't even scratched.
"Well, I'm sold on you," I told her.
"If I had a drachma for every time I heard that," she replied, smiling.
"Did the army know you could do that?"
"They knew enough," she replied. "I've never made a secret of it."
"As fascinating as Diana's past history is, to return to business," Alan drawled. "The feeling is that we're the first, but we won't be the last. We want to put a structure in place so that when others like us discover who they are, they'll have somewhere to go, someone to train them. Bat's in too; he's not...quite like us, but he's very driven, and besides, we need someone with a brain like his. You've put two and two together, haven't you?"
"He's Batman. The vigilante of Gotham."
"The CIG turns a blind eye as long as he doesn't kill anyone. He's doing good work, and he's smart as a whip. There'll be more like him, and maybe they won't have quite his moral code. And if we're rising up on this side..." Alan spread his hands. "What's rising up on the other?"
"I'm more interested in the question of who's supervising this venture," I replied. "I'm not working for the government. I served my tour."
"Did you," Alan said, grinning. "Nobody supervises us. I can arrange for the blessing of the US Government, but they won't control our activities. Think of it more like a volunteer position. We train together, we work together when we have to, and we see to our own business the rest of the time."
I glanced at Diana. She shrugged and smiled. "Seemed like a good time, to me. The four of us could do a lot of good, set a lot of standards."
"Then I'm in, I suppose," I said. "What are we calling ourselves?"
"I thought the League of Heroes sounded appropriate," Diana said.
"I still think that's putting ourselves up a little high," Alan added.
"What about...the Justice League?" I asked.
Diana and Alan glanced at each other.
"Told you he'd be useful," Alan said.
"So you did, and I didn't disagree, if you'll remember," she said, rolling down her sleeves and shrugging back into her flight jacket. "I think you two have other matters to discuss, and I have business to see to. Very nice to meet you -- I'm sure we'll speak again soon," she said to me, and stood. "Don't get up, boys, I'll see myself out."
When she was gone, I looked back at Alan, who had changed back into his ordinary clothes. "She's something else," I said.
"She's a princess from a race of Amazons who have access to powers the rest of the world only dreams of, and her mother is an actual goddess," Alan said. "I'm just glad as hell she's on our side."
"No kiddin'," I said.
"So you needed to speak to me about Batman?"
I nodded. "I need to pass a message and ask a favor."
"Well, that's how the...Justice League works, at least I hope," he said.
"Do you know who he is?"
"Nobody but his handler knows that, if he even knows. One of our guys is undercover in Gotham investigating police corruption, he said he'd handle Bat. Even so it took Bat months to trust him. He's still uncertain about the League, but I'm talking him around. You'd probably do a better job of it."
"Does he know who you are?"
"Yes. Does he know who you are?"
"Nobody knows who I am," I said.
"Don't be so sure. Bat's a detective, he has ways and means. Anyway, what did you need? I'll talk to our man in Gotham."
"Louis Lane from the Planet -- do you know Louis?"
"Only from his columns. He works with a pal of mine, Kent. Kent's the one I asked to invite you up here."
"Yeah, so I heard," I said, wondering, as always, how nobody recognized me. I should have thought to wear a mask when I was starting out, but apparently I didn't need one. "Lane's coming to Gotham for a few days, to take Bat up on some offer he made. I wanted to let Bat know, and ask him to keep an eye out. He knows who to look for."
"Lane likely to get into trouble?"
"It's practically a guarantee."
"I'll keep him informed. This was good," Alan said, toying with his ring. "A good start. I'll circle around with Bat and -- how do I get in touch with you? Kent again?"
I considered, not for the first time, having some kind of Superman-only telephone line installed. "Sure. He knows how, now."
"Hey, watch him, would you? Kid's a lamb. Good soldier but not exactly streetwise, and he's getting in over his head with some business down in Metropolis."
I smiled, standing. "I'll look in on him. Good to meet you, Mr. Scott."
Alan grinned back. "Call me Green Lantern."
By the time I left, there was a small crowd of people who had clearly seen me go in; someone was there with a camera, and I signed a few autograph books before the local press got to me. I like being a reporter, but there's something to be said for lifting off and leaving them disappointed when they're about to start bothering you.
"Christ, where have you been?" Lois asked, when I returned to the newsroom. "My article's in the bag, it's going out as a feature tomorrow with Jimmy's picture of the swastika, I'm on the six pm train to Gotham, Superman visited the federal government today, and I need to buy a dress."
"Uh?" I tried.
"Clark! Focus! Superman! Perry wants you on the story and he was about to put me on it and I can't because I called Bruce Wayne and he's throwing a costume ball in my honor and I need a dress."
I sighed. Easy enough to write a story about my own visit to the CIG, especially since I could control exactly what went in it (my favorite sentence has always been "Superman was unavailable for comment", which is good because I write it a lot) but Lois was going to go buy some undoubtedly devastating dress in which to dance some more with Bruce Wayne. Life was unfair.
"Go," I said. "I'll cover the Superman thing. Remember he's an idiot!" I called, as she ran out of the newsroom. "Stupid Bruce Wayne," I muttered to myself.
***
I very resolutely managed to stay out of Gotham for the entire four days that Lois was gone. Alan had said Batman would be looking out for her, and she'd said she could handle herself anyway. Besides, I might have been jealous of Bruce Wayne's easy ability to charm, but I wasn't the kind of creep who'd follow a woman to another city just to glare at the competition.
I might consider it, because it wasn't like I couldn't just...zip over and back again, but I wouldn't do it. Well, nobody's perfect.
I did have work of my own to do, too. Lois's column didn't seem to stir up anything overt; no more swastikas on the doors. But on the second day after it ran, the day Bruce Wayne was throwing his big costume ball -- not that I was paying attention -- it happened.
Lex Luthor tried to buy the Daily Planet.
I didn't know much about Luthor, not any more than anyone else did, I supposed. He'd shown up in Metropolis in '45, ready to spend and build and, so it seemed, catapult the city into the new postwar era. Nobody knew where his money had come from. If anyone knew where he himself had come from, they kept it to themselves.
"Self-made man," Lois had posited one night, sharing a late dinner in the newsroom. "Like Jay Gatsby," she added darkly.
"Little young for Gatsby's line of work," I replied. "How do you figure, anyway?"
"He reeks of New Money. Overspending, joining all the right clubs, trying to impress people -- Old Money doesn't need to impress anyone, it assumes all lower life forms come pre-impressed. At least he's not some thug with no class, I guess."
"Seems smart enough."
"Oh, he's brilliant at what he does. Plays his cards right, he'll be mayor of Metropolis in ten years."
"Well, maybe I should quit and go work for him. He probably needs a speechwriter," I joked. Lois glanced at me skeptically.
"Don't leave the Daily Planet," she said quietly, one of the few times I've seen her talk about me with any seriousness. "Especially not to work for him. Anything he could get you isn't worth your soul."
"He's not the devil, Lois."
"He's no angel, either."
And there he was, walking through the newsroom, chatting amiably with Burt Mason, the owner of the paper, who was about a hundred years old and Lois always said had apprenticed to Benjamin Franklin. We all knew that the Planet had been quietly "available" for a few years, but Burt didn't seem to be in any hurry to sell before, and there hadn't been any buyers anyway.
"What's Lex Luthor doing here?" Jimmy asked, casually leaning on my desk.
"Hell if I know," I said. "More importantly, why's he so chummy with Mason?"
"You think he's..." Jimmy rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign for money. "Making an offer?"
At which point my phone rang.
"Kent, Daily Planet," I said, still watching as Mason gave Luthor a tour of the newsroom.
"Clark, it's Lois."
"Oh! Hey, how's Gotham? Is it everything you hoped and dreamed?" I asked drily.
"Well, Wayne Manor certainly is -- "
"You're staying with him?"
"There's about a dozen people staying with him, Clark, it's like a country house party. Charming. I've barely seen him. Stop being a ninny."
"And your other investigation?"
"Well, I've had a truly delightful tour of the smellier parts of the Gotham shipping and transport scene," she sighed. "No luck, but I'm not done yet. Hey, I had a thought. Doesn't Metropolis do more import-export than Gotham?"
"I think so. I'd have to check with Research."
"So why are these ratlines originating in Gotham?"
"Maybe their HQ is in Gotham."
"Or it's in Metropolis, and whoever's running everything doesn't want to get their hands dirty."
"I'll look into it, for what it's worth, but I should probably hang up now, Lois, because I think Burt Mason's about to sell."
"What?"
"He's giving Lex Luthor the two-dollar tour. Jimmy -- " Jimmy gave a wave, " -- Jimmy says hi, and he thinks Luthor's going to make an offer. I think so too."
"And me stuck in Gotham. Clark, can't you stall them or something?"
"Stall them with what? And why? We knew Mason would sell sooner or later."
There was a click on the line, and a voice said, "Hello? Is this line free?"
"Who is this?" I asked.
"This is Bruce Wayne, and you're using my telephone," the voice said, sounding amused.
"Bruce! I'm sorry, it's Lois, I was just checking in at the Planet," Lois said. "I'm on the front hall extension."
"I'm in the library. How funny! That's very dedicated of you, but if it's not urgent, I have some incredibly boring stockholder issues I need to handle before the ball tonight."
"I'll ring off," I said. "Look after yourself, Lois."
"Was that Kent?" I heard Wayne ask, as I hung up the phone. "He's pretty joyless, eh?"
I let my head fall to my desk, sighing. Jimmy patted the back of it.
"Least we're not in two feet of mud and getting shot at," he said.
The funny thing was, though, that Luthor didn't get the Planet. By the time he and Mason were behind closed doors, the entire paper was humming with the rumor that he was going to buy; I could see Perry trying to listen to their conversation with a glass pressed up against the wall his office shared with Mason's.
After about ten minutes, the door to Mason's office flew open and Luthor stormed out, eyes burning, fists clenched, and everyone scurried to get out of this way. He slammed the newsroom door behind him as he left, and all eyes went back to Burt Mason's office. Mason was standing in the doorway, looking amused.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "The Daily Planet is now out of my hands. Your new owner wishes to remain anonymous, but I can promise you that man just there wasn't him. Some tomfool called while we were haggling and offered twice what Luthor wanted to pay. Damndest thing."
"Are you quitting, Burt?" Perry asked.
"I'm moving to god damned Bermuda and spending the rest of my life drinking booze out of coconut shells, Perry," Mason said.
"But who's going to run the paper?" Jimmy asked.
Mason looked at him as if he were trying to remember who he was. "Oh, for heaven's sake. White's been running it for years already. You all must think I do a lot more work than I do around here. Enjoy your new owner!" he added, and swanned out.
Utter silence fell over the newsroom.
"Well?" Perry said, after a moment. "Get cracking, everyone, this paper doesn't print itself!"
***
Lois was supposed to come back to Metropolis on the Saturday afternoon train; she'd asked me to come down and meet her and drive her home, because apparently I was the only other person that she trusted with her little red two-seat roadster. I have to admit it was a nice car to drive.
Instead, however, I got a telephone call on -- well, technically Saturday morning.
It was only good sense to keep the telephone next to the bed, seeing as how we often got middle-of-the-night calls to go out and cover something happening. When it rang, I managed to fumble the lamp on before answering, expecting Perry's voice barking orders (the man never seemed to sleep).
"This is Kent," I mumbled, already throwing back the blankets.
"Clark, it's Lois," she said, and I was instantly awake.
"Lois?" I asked. "It's two in the morning, what's wrong? Did you catch the sleeper train and I mixed up the time?"
"No. I'm at a Gotham City police station."
"Holy -- what are you doing there?"
"I shot a man."
I rubbed my eyes. "Fatally?"
"Kneecap. He'll live, but he'll never win any footraces again."
"Are you under arrest?"
"I'm not sure," she said. "It was self-defense, technically, but the Gotham cops, I swear. These guys scare me more than the Gotham criminals do. Anyway, I wanted someone to know where I am. I snuck over to a Sergeant's desk and called."
"Lois! You can't steal long-distance from the police!"
"Well, I am, so deal with it," she growled.
"Do you need me to wire you bail?"
"Sweet Smallville. Maybe, but I don't think so. Here's a hot tip if you can do anything with it."
"So hot you called me illegally at two in the morning?" I grumbled, but I reached for my notebook. "Fire away."
"The man I shot was working for the ratline. I saw him unloading passengers from what was supposed to be a fishing boat. It's an old rum-runner trick -- "
"Moor out at sea, unload the cargo into a smaller boat, speed it in," I said, nodding, not that she could see.
"Right. He had a whole line of cars and a big cargo truck with him. That's why we can't catch them, Clark, they're totally mobile. No safe houses. Not in Gotham, anyway. They have to have somewhere in Metropolis where they can pick up their new papers, at least. We need to look for a warehouse, somewhere with lots of parking and space for a forgery operation. And I have a description of the cargo truck -- it has to be some kind of movable headquarters."
"Got it. I can work with this, I think Perry knows someone in the city planner's office. There's gotta be a million of them, but I'm sure we can find something."
"I took down the numbers of some of the plates before they drove off. They don't know I'm onto them; the only guy they left behind is the one I shot, so unless he's tipped off the police -- "
"A very real possibility."
"I know. But at least now we know a little more."
"And it's really good work. I'll have something for you by the time you get in tomorrow," I said, and then paused. "Why didn't you call Bruce Wayne?"
There was a soft sigh on the line. "If you don't know that, Smallville..."
"No, I don't know. He has money and connections and he's in Gotham. He can get you out of there. You need to hang up and call him, if you can. Or I will."
"I told you, he's a -- Clark, I have to go," she said. "Batman just walked into the precinct. Three o'clock on the platform tomorrow, meet me there! Don't call me, I'll call when I can."
"Lois, wait -- " I said, but the line had gone dead.
I could try and call the Gotham police, but I didn't know what precinct she was being kept in, and I didn't want to give away that she'd called. I could get to Gotham in under half an hour, but that might blow an even bigger game. And if Batman was there -- I'd asked him to look after her --
I decided to be patient. Presumably she still had Betty, and she had allies in Gotham. Besides, when a reporter disappears, it's bad publicity for everyone concerned. That's not to say I didn't pace the floor quite a lot, but the wait was rewarded: twenty minutes later, the phone rang.
"Lois?" I asked, picking it up.
"My apologies, Mr. Kent," said a voice on the line -- English accent, particularly stuffy. "My name is Alfred. I'm Mr. Wayne's butler. Miss Lane asked me to let you know that she's been safely returned to Wayne Manor."
"Let me speak to her."
"Quite out of the question, I'm afraid; she's already asleep. These police ruffians will wear a person out," he said. "That Batman fellow brought her to our door, and I can't imagine that was particularly pleasant either. She seemed unharmed, however, and says she'll see you at the station at three, per your arrangement."
"Where the hell is Wayne?" I demanded. "Did she call him?"
"Master Bruce is not at the manor at present, but rest assured Miss Lane is quite safe. Have you any reply to give her?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, sighing. "Tell her -- tell her I'll see her at the station, and I'm working on the project she told me to look into."
"Just so, Mr. Kent. Good morning," he said, and hung up.
I sighed and set the handset down in its cradle. Might as well get a start on the day.
***
Lois arrived on the three o'clock train, just as planned -- and she had Bruce Wayne with her.
"Clark!" she called, waving, and I took in the two of them: Lois looking eager and self-satisfied (if a little tired), Wayne carrying her suitcase and hovering over her like a porter waiting for a tip. At least he seemed to have left his butler in Gotham.
"Welcome back," I said, reaching for her suitcase. Wayne kept a tight grip on it. "I see someone followed you home."
"Bruce was worried about me getting out of Gotham," she said, patting his arm affectionately.
"I'm not much of a fighter but I did study boxing at boarding school," he said, making a weak fist and waving it ineffectually. "And I thought, if nothing else, I could call for help. Good to see you again, Kent."
"Likewise," I said through gritted teeth.
"Well, gorgeous, this is where I leave you," he said, kissing Lois's hand. "I'll be in Metropolis until tomorrow night; call me if any more fiends threaten you. I have a suite at the Metropolis Grand," he added, loading her suitcase into the car. "Taxi!"
"Oh, thank god," Lois said, as I handed her the keys and Wayne disappeared into a cab. "He talked the entire trip back. He's charming for the first ten minutes and then insufferable."
"What did you do?"
"Feigned sleep," she said, tossing me a grin as she pulled out into traffic. It turned oddly fond. "I'm glad to be back in Metropolis."
"No more kneecapping thugs?" I asked. "You have to tell me the full story, now that you're not defrauding the police."
"Not much to tell. It was sheer luck I happened to see the boat come in -- I flipped a coin for where I should go, it came up with the fishing wharves. I saw a bunch of cars and the truck; saw the transfer go down. They left and I was about to get away when the one stupid guy they left behind caught me. I don't think he knows I saw anything. I played dumb till I shot him."
"Your modus operandi."
"I try," she said, laughing. "Anyway, a passing patrol heard the gunfire and came and arrested us both. I called you, and you know the rest."
"Hardly," I said. "Batman showed up?"
"Yeah. Walked right into the precinct. That was strange. But he must have connections; he sprung me and drove me home. His car..." she whistled low. "He might be a head case but he has style."
"Oh?"
"The man dresses up like a bat," she said.
"Yeah, but Superman -- "
"That's different! Superman doesn't sneak around at night, and his uniform makes sense. Sort of. I mean I'm glad Batman came and helped me out of a tight spot and all, but he's a little..." she circled her finger next to her head. "I kept trying to get an in for an interview and he kept...grunting." She sighed. "Well, win some, lose some. So what did you find?"
"Seven warehouses that fit the requirements," I said, reading out of my notebook. "Assuming they're using an abandoned one, and not a legitimate business or a criminal enterprise. I also assumed most of the crooks in Metropolis steer clear of them. We'd have heard more about them if they were working with locals."
"You check any of them out?"
"Not yet. Daylight seems a little conspicuous. I thought we could snoop around tonight."
"Boy, you sure know how to show a gal a good time."
"Well, it's not canapés and champagne, but I promise you I can throw a better punch than Bruce Wayne."
"Smallville, I can throw a better punch than Bruce Wayne."
"So his charms really wore off, huh?"
"I'm telling you, Clark, there's something in the water in Gotham. Anyway, he's a story. He's always a story, and he's a resource, and he has connections. I'm not interested in him. I'm not even gold-digging him."
"I never said you were."
"Well, good," she said.
"All right," I answered.
"So I'll see you tonight, then?" she asked, pulling up outside of my building.
"The diner near the Planet? Nine o'clock?"
"Better get my beauty rest in the meantime. You too, you look worn down."
"Well, a friend of mine woke me up at two in the morning," I said, and she smiled.
"Reliable Clark. Go write home to Ma and Pa," she said, and roared off in the roadster.
"Reliable. Great," I repeated.
***
Metropolis, being a coastal city, always did a lot of shipping and storage. There's an extensive dock district full of warehouses, some of them crumbling, others havens for criminals and thugs. Some had lead paint, which made it harder to see through the walls into them -- for some reason my x-ray vision doesn't work on lead. It wasn't indulgence that drove me to go with Lois to check out the warehouses; two heads were better than one, and anyway Superman would have tipped them off that we were getting closer.
"So you really got no response from that article on the ratlines I worked so hard on?" Lois asked, as we climbed a fire escape of an occupied warehouse to see if we could look across the street into the windows of an empty one. We were on our fourth of the seven on my list, and having no luck.
"Nothing concrete," I answered. "I did pay attention," I added, when she gave me a dry look.
"Well, I got yelled at by Batman for it," she sighed, "so I guess I'm not any better off."
"You got -- I thought you said he just grunted!"
She settled on the roof, crouching low, peering over the edge. "There may have been a few choice words about making his and Superman's job harder."
"Wonder if he checked with Superman before speaking for him."
"Who knows how the capes do things," Lois said. "I could use a word with him, though, see if he's seen anything."
"Are those opera glasses?" I asked, as she peered through a tiny pair of binoculars.
"I can't like opera?" she retorted.
"You hate opera."
"You hate opera."
"Yes, we both hate opera, we discussed this months ago."
"They fit in my purse," she said, sounding annoyed. "Excuse me if the US Army isn't the one outfitting my combat gear."
"They're lovely opera glasses," I replied.
"Thank you. But they're useless here, since that warehouse is definitely empty." She settled back, sighing. "I really did think that article would get some attention."
"Well, aside from Lex Luthor trying to buy the Planet..."
"Lex Luthor wouldn't be involved in a ratline, would he?"
"You said yourself you thought he was some kind of crook."
"Only that nobody knows where his money came from. What kind of rich guy would try to get richer helping Nazis?"
"I don't know," I said. "Evil rich guy?"
"Well, at least he didn't get the paper. I don't trust him. So where's the next warehouse on the list?"
"It's a mile north of here, and it's empty as well," a voice said, and we both turned. Lois's hand went into her purse for Betty. "Easy, Lane."
There was a shadow on the rooftop, crouched on a gargoyle, moonlight glinting off metal here and there. He jumped down lightly and stood there, studying us: wide shoulders, thick arms, and arrogance in every inch of his stance.
"Batman," I said.
"You two are going to get yourselves killed," he replied. "I cleared the last three on your list. If this one is clear, then your list is wrong."
"Well, gee, thanks for -- "
"Come with me," he interrupted, and jumped off the top of a building again. I looked at Lois. She shrugged and started down the fire escape.
He didn't really walk with us so much as lead us, never quite fully visible; at times he paused for no apparent reason, signalled us to pause too, and then went on. We finally scrambled up another fire escape after him and into the second floor of a rundown apartment building. It had been furnished -- well, it had a table, two chairs, and a cot nearby -- and one wall was covered with pinned-up paper.
"You have a secret lair in Metropolis?" I asked. I was thinking I should probably have some kind of secret lair.
"I needed room to work."
"And the spread?" Lois was inspecting his wall of papers: newspaper clippings, scrawled handwritten notes, photographs.
"The work I needed room for. I find it helps me think," Batman said.
"Makes you look a little nutty," Lois replied.
"You're one to talk, Louis."
"Hey, that's a necessary evil." She leaned closer to one of the papers. "This is -- this is from my desk! And Clark, this is one of yours. These are Daily Planet papers. You broke into the Planet after we left?" she demanded, turning on him.
"Vigilante," he said coolly. "It's what I do."
"You had no right to rifle through my desk! Our desks!"
"Arrest me," he replied, offering his wrists. Lois glared. "No? Then can we get back to solving this problem?"
"More importantly, why is this even here?" I asked, tapping one of my own papers. "Science lab break-ins? You think they're connected?"
"The thefts started around the same time the ratline opened," Batman said. "And I can guess who was coming through, based on them. Either of you familiar with Operation Paperclip?"
I looked at Lois. She nodded.
"Rumors only," she said. "The government offered asylum to Nazi scientists in return for their help with our rocket program."
"Not all the scientists they were after wanted to work for them. Someone opened this ratline specifically to import rocket technicians to Metropolis. They're building something. A bomb, possibly. Or something more sinister."
"More sinister than a bomb?" I asked, thinking of the screams I'd heard, the night they bombed Hiroshima.
"Four years ago, did you imagine the atomic bomb could even exist?" he asked. "There's always something worse, if you know how to do it right. The ratline's just a symptom. Nasty, but not the real point. The point was to get the scientists. And build the whatever-it-is."
"We're not looking at the right warehouses," I said quietly.
"You're not looking for a printing press, that's for sure," he replied. "I'd say more like a large hangar with a chemistry lab attached. Somewhere remote. Not necessarily near the docks. The men they're not shipping south, they're keeping there." He paused. "And I think Lex Luthor will own the property, when we find it."
"Why?" I asked.
"The same reason Lane does. Her little call out in the paper got him interested. I know he tried to buy the Planet."
"You know who beat him to the punch?" Lois asked.
"Yes," he said with a small smile. "But I'm not telling you. I have a few names of Luthor's shell corporations," he added, pulling one of the pinned-up papers down and offering it to her. "If you can find his property holdings, you can find where he's building...what he's building. You'll find the scientists there, and if you're lucky you'll crack the ratline in half."
"Why are we doing all this?" I asked.
"Your town, your beat. Your exclusive."
"What are you doing in the meantime?" Lois asked.
"I have a city to look after, but I'll be watching. You find what you're looking for, I'll know. Don't do anything heroic; leave that to the heroes."
"The Justice League," I said, and then realized my mistake. Two sets of blue eyes turned to me, curious.
"What's the Justice League?" they asked in unison; Lois curious, Batman sardonic.
They looked sharply at each other. It was almost funny, really.
"Ah," I said.
"Seems you two have some things to discuss," Batman announced. "Try not to splash it all over the front page, huh? And if you see Superman," he added, climbing out the window, with a pointed look at me over his shoulder, "tell him we need to talk."
"He does love to make an exit," Lois said, into the awkward silence that followed. "Justice League, huh?"
"It's a thing some people are doing," I replied.
"Heroic people? Like Superman and Batman?"
"And maybe a few others. Look, I don't know more than that."
"You got an exclusive from Superman, didn't you?" she accused.
"Uhh..."
"You ass!"
"Hey, if you had, would you have asked me along?" I asked. "It was just once and I'm not allowed to print anything yet."
"I would have at least mentioned it!"
"You would have gloated."
"Look, I didn't get into the newspaper business for the big paycheck," she said, but then she smiled. "Fine, Smallville, have it your way. Come on, I'll give you a lift home."
I went upstairs when Lois dropped me off, then further up, changing in the little stairwell that led from my apartment to the roof. I figured Batman would find me before I found him, and I wasn't wrong; not ten minutes after I took off looking, I saw a light flashing at the top of the south bridge. It spans the Dysee river that comes down from Gotham, turning that city into an island before it flows south to mark the western edge of Metropolis. I landed lightly, and he switched off the electric lamp, setting it aside.
"You've been talking to Kent," he said, without greeting.
"Am I here to get scolded like a kid?" I asked.
"You are a kid."
"Kent's a resource. If I didn't talk to him, we wouldn't be meeting here now. Can't say I'm overjoyed to see you in Metropolis."
"Believe me, I'm not overjoyed to be here." He was studying me, clearly looking for weak spots, vulnerabilities. "Seriously, are you old enough to be in this business?"
"Did you want something, Batman?"
"I thought we should meet. Seeing as Lantern and Diana invited you aboard," he said. "Justice League, huh?"
"Seemed apt."
"I suspect you're going to need some help in Metropolis soon. Kent keep you up to date on what's happening?"
"More or less." I tilted my head. "But I have no way of calling for help even if I need it."
"Ah." He dug in one of the pouches on his belt and tossed me a square object about the size of my palm, and perhaps a quarter of an inch thick. There was a catch on one end, and I opened it. Inside was a switch and what looked like a microscope slide.
"It's crude, but it does the job," he said. "It operates on a very specific, boosted radio frequency. Flip the switch."
I flipped it, and immediately there was a whistling noise. He took out an identical box and opened it, showing me the interior of his. The glass slide was glowing faintly blue. I switched off, and the light died.
"Blue for Metropolis. Yellow for Gotham. Red for Washington. Well." He tilted his head. "For the people who live there, anyway. Diana's and Lantern's both flash red. If you're in Gotham and you sound the alarm it'll still flash blue, and if you're more than about five hundred miles away it won't work at all, so use with care. I'm working on the problem."
"This is amazing," I said. "Where'd you get it?"
"I built them."
"You what?"
"I don't have the strength of a hundred men or magical bulletproof bracelets or a ring that lets me fly," he said without bitterness. "I -- "
Behind his mask, his eyes narrowed.
"What?" I asked.
"You're wearing something under the uniform," he said, pointing to my chest.
"So?"
"So I want to know if we're being recorded."
I rolled my eyes and reached under my cape, fingers catching the thin chain there. I pulled out the medal that hung on the chain, showing it to him.
"Saint's medal?" he asked, drawing closer.
"No," I said, defensively. "It was -- found with me. It's nothing."
He held out his hand, questioningly. I sighed and let it fall into his palm.
It was a small thing, not bigger than a quarter; some kind of metal, with a blue gem embedded in the center. That and the cape were all I had; Pa destroyed the ship I came in when I was two. A Census man had come around asking questions about why I didn't have a birth certificate. Ma and Pa got jumpy.
"I'd like a closer look at -- "
"No," I said, pulling the medal back. He frowned.
"Lantern says you're the son of Krypton, whatever that means."
"Lantern talks too much."
He snorted. "In the meantime, I have to get back to Gotham. When the bat's away, you know. Keep in touch with Kent. Signal me when he and Lane find something."
"You seem pretty sure they will."
"Lane's sharp. Kent's dogged. They'll turn up something. And hey," he added, "our business is private. Justice League's not even off the ground yet, we don't need reporters hearing about it from you. Keep your babyfaced mouth shut."
"Kent's all right."
"Forgive me for not believing you," he said.
"This League won't work if we don't trust each other. I'll handle Kent and Lane."
"See that you do," he said.
He was fast, I gave him that; he stepped backwards from the top of the tower, onto the suspension cable, and slid down to the foot of the bridge, disappearing into the darkness.
***
Historical notes:
The Women Airforce Service Pilots flew with distinction during WWII. You can see Diana's "duty" uniform and flying leathers here. (And thanks to
spiderine for the suggestion that Diana be a WASP!)Chapter Three
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Looking forward to getting more Diana in the picture. And I love the worldbuilding in general :D
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