The Cat and the Bullet

Chapter 4

It is a strange sensation standing in front of the Superman Foundation building and looking up. Usually, I just float down through the open skylight. Till today Clark Kent has had no need to visit. I've been so careful to keep my two identities separate. It almost feels like a violation having Clark Kent breathe the same air as Superman. My unflinching face glares down at me, warning off any nefarious visitors. The statue is all wrong. I stand erect with my arms crossed over my chest, for all the world looking like a father scolding his naughty children.

"I wonder if everything is in working order under there," she says, whistling appreciatively. "Make sure to ask Andrina when you interview her, Kent," she chuckles at the obvious discomfort displayed on my face. Oh my God. What if Cat is onto something? It's my alien genetics that are making Lois sick. But she wasn't sick before.

"Get your head out of the gutter. We have a job to do." I guide her not too gently into my house, expelling any thought of Lois from my mind. Though it never really was home, just a place to put on a good show for the press. Midday shoppers are already crawling in the lobby, their eager hands searching for the latest Superman merchandise. We pass a wall full of Superman comic books and I inwardly groan. I told Pete no more wishy-washy comic strips. I might be the Man of Steel, but that doesn't make a lick of a difference to him; he never listens to me.

We find Pete in the upstairs library, all the lights turned off except for a single lamp, casting ominous shadows across the wall behind him. A trio of elementary students gather around his wheelchair, eating up each of his words like candy on Halloween. "Superman fell to his knees, weak, Lord Darkseid's fist closing around his throat," he wraps his own hands around his throat in a choking position. The children whimper and shuffle uneasily. "The world dimmed around him till all he could see was Darkseid's fiery red eyes." I can't believe his gall. My fight with Darkseid is not PG. The kids are not going to get a wink of sleep tonight. Superman still gets nightmares about the siege on Metropolis.

A little girl breaks away from the others angrily. "Superman will cut his head off, you'll see!" She says with conviction jabbing the air with an imaginary sword. I'm horrified such a morbid thought crossed her mind. She couldn't be older than eight years old. I don't even own a sword.

I trip over the rug and knock over the lamp in my haste. It shatters to the floor and the room is swallowed in darkness. The same girl from earlier shrieks like a banshee and jumps into Sam Lando's lap. The other children hold their ground on the floor but move slightly closer to his wheelchair.

No one screams louder than Cat Grant, her arm lashing out in the dark and grabbing hold of me – this is exactly why Cat writes the Gossip Column and leaves the heavy lifting to Lois and me. I flick a spare light on and shake Cat off.

"You know kids," I say, keeping my tone light. A freckled boy blinks at me in confusion. "You're hanging out with the wrong hero if you want ghost stories." Pete's eyes widen in shock as he sees me. "I hear Batman is the pro on ghosts going bump in the night."

"Psh," the girl waves a dismissive hand at me. "Batman is last century's news," she crosses her arms haughtily. She wouldn't feel like this come tomorrow when that incriminating photo is splashed all over the front page of the Daily Planet. I doubt Batman has to worry about tabloids. "Superman doesn't hide in the shadows, that's why mommy likes him."

"And one other reason," Cat says, smirking suggestively.

"What reason?" She demands.

"Never mind that," Pete cuts her off, not taking his weary dark eyes off me. "Say, you guys hungry?" He asks in an exaggeratedly upbeat tone. "Connie has made her famous Superman brownies," he says, rubbing his belly. "Wouldn't want to miss that," he winks at them. "Boy, that robot can bake." It has the intended effect. The children clamber out of the library, fighting each other to be first. It is not long before we are alone in the library.