“Doctor Barabbas? Mr. Kent from The Daily Planet is here for his
appointment.”
The pale skinned, blond secretary with mistrustful
eyes stepped aside and motioned to Clark Kent that he should go on into
the spacious, well-lit office with it’s futuristic furniture
scheme. The chrome desk that dominated the room was actually
floating several feet off the plasticized floor, as was the woman who
sat curled in a chair that looked like half an eggshell. The
woman smiled at Clark as the desk and chair slowly descended to the
floor. She nimbly climbed out of the chair and walked around the
desk to formally greet Clark with her hand outstretched. “A
pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kent. I’m Dr. Devon Barabbas,
Director and CEO of Barabbas Bioworks. I can’t tell you
what an honor it is having a writer of your talent doing a piece on my
humble company.”
Clark shook her hand warmly. “Thank you,
Dr. Barabbas. I’m actually looking forward to seeing what
you’re doing here. I have a amateur interest in science,
you might say.”
“Really?” Dr. Barabbas smiled and
it struck Clark how attractive she was. Her wide, smoke-gray eyes
and flowing waves of obsidian hair were eye catching in themselves but
when combined with her elegant high cheekbones and wasp-waisted frame,
Devon Barabbas looked as if she would be more at home on the cover of a
fashion magazine than working in a laboratory. “I’d
heard that your interests were many and quite eclectic, Mr. Kent.”
“Oh? Who would you have heard that from,
Dr. Barabbas?”
“Professor Emil Hamilton. He’s
been very generous with his time since we’ve come to The Miracle
Mile.” Dr. Barabbas motioned for Clark to sit down on a
long low leather couch and she sat next to him, crossing her exquisite,
tanned legs. “And if he’s representative of the
rest of Metropolis then I can anticipate nothing but great things for
my company here.”
“Let’s start with a few basic questions,
shall we?” Clark pulled out a pocket digital voice
recorder. “You have no objections to my recording our
conversation, do you?”
“Certainly not.”
Clark smiled politely as he activated the
device. Not that he needed it, of course. He never forgot
anything he heard, saw, smelled or read. But when he was on the
job as Clark Kent, reporter he played by the rules. And that
meant recording conversations word for word as well as taking notes.
“Let’s begin at the beginning.
What exactly is Barabbas Bioworks and what does it specialize in?
Why should the scientific community sit up and pay attention to what
you’re doing here?”
Devon Barabbas threw her head back in a delightful
manner as her laughter bubbled through the high-ceilinged room.
“The research we’re doing here is going to provide
something that the world has needed for a long time, Mr. Kent: a safe
and affordable means of incorporating bionics and biogenetics into the
everyday life of the average man, woman and child. Certainly
bionics have been used ever since the 1940’s when Robert Crane
became the first Robotman with his human brain being successfully
transplanted into a robot body.”
Clark nodded. “As you say, bionics
are nothing new…”
“Ah, but what we’re striving to
produce here is a bionics totally unlike anything that has previously
been seen on the planet, Mr. Kent! This would be bionics on the
molecular level, able to adapt itself and transform itself to meet any
and all needs of the human organism it is now a part of. Imagine
a construction worker having a bionic arm that wasn’t just an arm
but could shift itself to be a pneumatic drill, a jackhammer, a power
saw…. anything that the worker needed to do his job. What
if a doctor had blood that he could inject into a patient and that
blood was able to cure the patient from right inside the
patient’s body? Because his blood was infused with
molecular bionics. You begin to see the possibilities?”
“I believe I do but still, Dr. Barabbas,
what you’re describing still is nothing new. Dozens if not
hundreds of members of the metahuman community as you describe have
used such bionic applications. “
“Exactly my point, Mr. Kent. We here at
Barabbas Bioworks want to take this amazing technology breakthrough and
make it available to the American people at an affordable price.
For far too long technology so advanced that it could almost be magical
has been in the hands of a select segment of the world’s
population while millions who could benefit are forced to lead lives of
suffering and pain. Why shouldn’t a man suffering from
Alzheimer’s be given an artificial brain that works better than
his sick one? Why shouldn’t a ten-year old boy who has been
paralyzed in a car crash be provided with an android body that is
totally indistinguishable from his organic one?”
Clark was professional enough to keep what he
actually felt and thought out of his voice as he said; “So you
don’t think there’s good, solid reasons for why such
technology isn’t made available to the public? You
don’t think there could be long term harmful effects?”
Dr. Barabbas frowned. “What possible
harm can come from healing the sick? Saving lives? Ending
suffering?”
“You almost sound like you want technology to
be mankind’s savior, Doctor.”
Dr. Barabbas’ wrist bleeped for attention and
she lifted her arm, plucking back her sleeve. “I’m
here. Go.” A pea-sized silver sphere emerged from the
device wrapped around her wrist and flew of it’s own accord into
her ear. “Excuse me, Mr. Kent.” She stood up
and walked over to a corner of her office, talking low.
Clark has no wish to eavesdrop on her conversation
and in any case he could use the time to do a quick sweep of Metropolis
using his X-Ray and Telescopic vision powers in concert. It was
something he had long ago gotten into the habit of doing as it enabled
him to head off any number of potential problems before they
started. He turned his head and started with the immediate
vicinity, his intention to gradually increase the radius of the visual
sweep until-
-Clark froze. Stopped the visual sweep and
pulled back on the intensity of power, collapsing his vision back into
the Barabbas Bioworks building itself. He swept the building and
just the building, looking for the familiar, powerfully built form he
had seen in a picosecond. But that had been enough. He
found who he was looking for and he couldn’t believe it.
Clark narrowed the focus of his X-Ray vision to examine the internal
organs of the man. He was human. Not an android or some
other form of artificial construct. It didn’t rule out that
he could be a clone of some sort, however-
“Mr. Kent?”
Clark blinked and turned his smiling face toward Dr.
Barabbas, who was resuming her seat, his vision at normal.
“I apologize for the interruption. Where
were we?”
“I was just about to ask you if we could take
a tour of The Bioworks, Doctor. I’m really eager to see
with my own eyes what you’ve got here.”
“Certainly! I was going to suggest that
myself and then maybe we could have some lunch and finish up the
interview. I’m afraid my afternoon is booked solid with
meetings so we’d best get started now.”
“Just one more question before we start our
tour, Doctor. You are aware that there are a number of criminal
organizations here in Metropolis that regularly steals advanced
technology to use for their own purposes. There’s SKULL,
The 1000, S.C.Y.T.H.E. and…” Clark paused, looked right
into Dr. Barabbas’ eyes as he finished with
“…Intergang. You have
heard of Intergang, haven’t you?”
Dr. Barabbas cocked her head quizzically as she
replied slowly. “I and my staff received a full briefing on
the unusual technologically based criminal organizations currently
operating here in Metropolis, Mr. Kent. We’re all aware of
them. But surely since we’re located in a city known the
world over as Superman’s hometown I certainly don’t think
we have much to fear, do we?”
“Much as he would like to, Superman
can’t be everywhere, Doctor.”
“Oh, yes…” Dr. Barabbas was
examining Clark’s face closely. “You are one of
Superman’s close friends, aren’t you? It’s said
he enjoys an unusual amount of closeness with several members of The Planet staff. I suppose
you would know better than most what he’s capable of.”
“The point is that I’m sure it was
impressed upon you the need for extraordinary security
precautions. You wouldn’t want Intergang to get a foothold
in The Bioworks, would you?”
Dr. Barabbas was now frowning. “If
there’s something you’re trying to say I wish you’d
just come out and say it, Mr. Kent. I’m a very busy woman
and I really don’t have the time for verbal jousting.”
Clark’s face broke into a smile.
“Apologies, Doctor. It’s just that I’ve had my
share of run-ins with Intergang and that’s made me a bit
paranoid, I’m afraid. Shall we begin our tour?”
“Certainly! I think we’ll start
with the Hyper Directional Neutron Imaging Lab, then…” Dr.
Barabbas continued talking but Clark hardly heard her as he followed
her out of her office. His mind was full of questions and he
pondered this latest situation. He was fairly sure that Dr.
Barabbas hadn’t been lying. In any case, it had been
pointless to pursue the matter further. It could be that Dr.
Barabbas was under some form of mind control. Or even that she
was unaware of the danger. But one thing was for sure, Clark
would have to do a lot more digging before he could decide if what was
going on at Barabbas Bioworks was a job for Superman.
But considering that he had seen Ugly Mannheim,
alive and well walking around in the building, he had the feeling that
it would turn out to be so. And sooner than he would have liked.
The Metropolis Office Of The National
Weather Service
“Hey, Mitch, you wanna come take a look at this?”
Mitch Hallowell ambled across the office to where
Marvin Green sat staring intently at the holographic tracking cube that
was currently showing The Atlantic Ocean. “What’s
up?”
“We’re tracking that storm that the Goliath II got trapped in.
Remember how I said it was a freaky storm?”
Mitch nodded absently, walking around the cube,
examining it closely. “Yeah. And I told you that
we’ve been having more than our share this year of freak storms
popping up. Nothing to lose sleep over.”
Marvin Green used his laser pointer to highlight a
section of the cube. “So maybe you want to check that out
and re-evaluate your opinion?”
Mitch looked at the highlighted area. Blinked
rapidly in surprise. Then he took off his glasses, cleaned the
lenses with the hideous orange tie his youngest daughter had given him
last Father’s Day and put the glasses back on again.
“This can’t be right,” he mumbled.
“According to this, that storm has changed direction and is
heading right for…Metropolis. But that’s flat out
impossible. Look at those pressure systems. The storm
should be heading further out to sea, not coming into land.”
Marvin merely raised an eyebrow.
“You’re preaching to the choir, m’man. How do
you want to treat it?”
Mitch was plainly worried. “Metahuman
Level Weather Effect?”
“We’ve got basis for classifying it as
such. Superman himself was involved. He towed the ship
right outta the middle of that. And we can’t ignore the
fact it’s gaining in speed and power. It’s already up
to a hundred and ten miles an hour.”
Mitch’s teeth were harassing his lower
lip. “Let’s get confirmation from headquarters
first. If we classify this as a Metahuman Level Weather Effect
you know what they’ll do: they’ll shut the whole city down
tighter than an unopened can of tuna fish.”
“You worried about your pension, man?
There’s no telling what kind of damage or injury might happen
while we’re getting that confirmation. The rate that
storm’s coming in, it’s gonna hit Metropolis in an
hour.”
“You gonna support my wife and four
kids? I’M the guy
they’re gonna hold responsible for making the call and I’m
not risking my job. Get headquarters on the phone.
I’ll give them our recommendations and let them make the decision. My
family’s gotta eat.”
Perry White looked up, chewing the unlit cigar stuck in his teeth as
Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen came quietly and slowly into his
office. He never lit up a cigar anymore, not after his bout with
cancer but he still couldn’t resist having one in his
mouth. Just the taste of nicotine was enough. He eyed them
suspiciously as they trooped in as if they’d both just come from
a funeral. That in itself was highly suspect. Lois Lane had
never entered a room quietly in her life and as for Jimmy, he had been
known to burst into Perry’s office so energetically and with such
force that he had actually broken several of Perry’s office doors
in the past.
Perry said nothing as the two reporters took
seats. Jimmy was fidgeting with his camera and Lois looked
positively gloomy. “So who died?” he finally
asked.
“Nobody yet,” Jimmy replied.
“But it’s just a matter of time.”
“I can’t believe you’re just going
to give up, Jimmy!” Lois said in amazement, rousted out of
whatever black thoughts were in her brain. “I don’t
care how good he is, he can’t get Luthor off! He just
can’t!”
“Lois, we’re talking about Cameron
Poole, right? We’re talking about the guy who got Gorilla
Grodd off a murder charge and had him placed in the custody of PETA who
promptly flew him back to Africa. We’re talking about the
guy-“
Perry picked up his wastebasket and threw it in the
middle of the floor. The clattering got the attention of Lois and
Jimmy. Perry removed the unlit cigar from his mouth and sat
back. “Talk to me.”
Lois jumped in first: “This Cameron Poole is
so smug and arrogant you would think he’s won the damned trial
already, Perry! He just sits there and smiles. And trust
me, it’s a smile you could really get to hate.”
“But get this, Chief,” Jimmy
added. “He’s going to put Superman on the stand as an
expert on metahuman powers. What do you suppose that’s all about?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve just
gotten off the phone with The
Planet’s legal department. I’ve asked them to
find a lawyer to represent Clark.”
Jimmy frowned. “Gee, Chief, isn’t
that a conflict of interest? I mean, Clark having a Planet lawyer? Somehow it
doesn’t seem right…and what would he need a lawyer
for? He’s not the one on trial!”
“If you’d listened to what I said
instead of jabbering away you would have noticed I said I asked Legal
to FIND Clark a lawyer, you
blockhead. And don’t call me Chief.”
“Jimmy’s got a valid point,
Perry,” Lois said, “why would Clark need a lawyer?”
“Look, I don’t know what Poole’s
got up his sleeve but I’m not taking any chances. I
don’t want Clark to get blindsided when he takes the witness
stand.” Perry leaned on his desk and spoke earnestly.
“There will never be a better chance in our lifetime to do our
part to see that Lex Luthor is finally and at last revealed to the
world for what he truly is and held accountable. Lex made the
biggest mistake of his life when he shot Clark. I’m
convinced he’s going to do everything he can to weasel his way
out and much as I hate to say it, we’ve got to be prepared to do
a little weaseling ourselves.”
“Careful, Chief,” Jimmy said.
“You don’t want to go doing anything that will end up with you sharing a cell with Lex.”
“And I’m not going to. We’re
going to play by the rules, as we’ve always done. But that
doesn’t mean that we can’t call in favors and use some of
the good will The Planet’s
built up over the years to get some extra help on this. And I
already have. I’ve called up Bruce Wayne and outlined the
situation for him. He’s agreed to pay for Clark’s
lawyer, whoever that ends up being.”
Lois nodded. “Good idea, Perry.
People will just assume I asked Bruce to help me out, based on the fact
we’re old friends who used to date.”
“That’s what I was
thinking.” Perry looked over Jimmy’s shoulder as
somebody else was entering the office. A good-looking, well-built
man in his late thirties with an engaging grin that immediately made
you want to throw your arm around his shoulders and take him out for a
beer. He wore a double-breasted suit with a vest and a golden
watch chain against the dark fabric. A stylish fedora was
slightly pushed back, revealing curly dark hair just under the
brim. He looked almost as if he could have stepped out of a
Broadway revival of The Front Page.
“Jimmy, Lois…here’s somebody I
want you to meet. He’s here to cover the Luthor trial for The Gotham Globe and I want you to
give him the inside dope on everything. Lois Lane, Jimmy
Olsen…. Alexander Knox from Gotham City.”
Blackgate Prison
“Okay, Lex. Time for another head shrinking session.”
Lex Luthor finished what he was doing and placed the
origami horse on a table in the middle of other origami horses of
various sizes and stood up. The three-foot thick plexiglass wall
split in half and Luthor stepped forward into the corridor. Four
guards were waiting for him and while two of them held their tasers at
the ready, one guard snapped on arm and leg restraints while the fourth
guard entered the spacious cell and used a hand scanner to check out
the room and make sure there was no smuggled in technology. It
took only four minutes and the guard joined his partners and Luthor.
“You’re getting pretty good at that
paper folding, Lex.”
“Why, thank you, Steve. I’m
enjoying it greatly. Amazing how quickly one can master a skill
when one has nothing but time, isn’t it? If you like them,
take them home to your daughter with my blessing.”
“You know I can’t do that, Lex.
But I appreciate the thought.”
Luthor smiled at the guard and they conducted the
rest of their business in silence. This was the Psychiatric Wing
of Blackgate Prison where those prisoners who were under psychological
observation and treatment were housed. Luthor had been here ever
since he shot Clark Kent while awaiting his trial. In the
meantime he had daily sessions with his therapist, Dr. Jenna Joyner.
The group stopped in front of Dr. Joyner’s
office and Steve knocked respectfully on the door. A second later
he was buzzed in, after Dr. Joyner had satisfied herself, via
surveillance camera that everything was okay. Luthor was ushered
into the office and seated in a chair facing the desk while the
restraints were unlocked. The guards left as quickly and as
quietly as they entered.
Dr. Jenna Joyner stood up slowly and walked around
her desk. A shapely full figured woman with wonderfully clear
blue eyes and hair the color of fresh milk she was already making a
name for herself in the field of psychotherapy due to her work with
Nick Knack and Crackerjack. The Luthor case was one that would
catapult her name into orbit. She would be able to write her own
ticket no matter how the case turned out. And none of that
mattered a bit to her.
Dr. Joyner leaned down and passionately kissed
Luthor. And he returned her kiss with a ruthlessness that was
typical of the way Lex Luthor did everything in his life. He took
it. Ruthlessly and with no emotion at all. He slowly got to
his feet, still kissing Dr. Joyner. She wriggled against him in a
sort of restrained frenzy.
Luthor broke the kiss and looked deep into her
eyes. “You are
still working on your testimony, are you not, Dr. Joyner?”
“Yes, Lex…yes,” she tried to
renew their heated kissing but Luthor held up a hand.
“Softly, my dear…softly…we have
90 minutes, after all…”
“And I don’t want to waste any of them,
Lex…” Dr, Joyner began unbuttoning her blouse.
Suddenly it was as if she couldn’t stand her clothes being
against her skin. She had no idea why or how Luthor had this
effect on her and she didn’t care. It had been this way
shortly after they’d begun their sessions. And she
fervently hoped it would never end.
“And we won’t. But there is a new
element to consider. There is something you must add to your
testimony. And I need you to listen very carefully. Can you
do that?”
“Of course!”
“Excellent. Now, have you ever heard of
a metahuman super criminal who calls himself Dr. Psycho…?”
Clark frowned as he looked out of the twelfth floor window. It
was getting increasingly dark out there and that was extremely
unusual. This was the middle of summer and usually it
didn’t start to get dark until around 8:30 PM and that was still
a long ways off. But the sky over Metropolis was rapidly turning
black as midnight at the bottom of a coal mine with churning; rolling
clouds that glowed with inner lightning.
Dr. Barabbas had just finished speaking on her cell
phone. “I think we should cut this short, Mr. Kent.
The Weather Service is saying this storm is not a natural one and
they’re going to classify it as a Metahuman Level Weather
Effect. They’re going to put out a call for Superman to
investigate. I’m sure you’ll want to get home where
it’s safe.”
“I’ll be heading back to The Planet, Dr. Barabbas.
That’s where my wife will be, I assure you. Thank you for
your time and I’ll be back to finish our interview.”
They shook hands as she said, “of
course. I trust you can find your own way out?”
Clark certainly could. Matter of fact he
preferred it that way right now. The corridors and staircases
were crowded with Bioworks staff members being sent home early so that
they could beat the coming storm. Clark made his way with the
crowd into the lobby, his head slightly bent to one side as if he was
contemplating the route home when actually his super-hearing was tuned
into the frequency of The National Weather Service:
“Attention
Superman…the hurricane you encountered earlier when you rescued
The Goliath II has been officially classified as a Metahuman Level
Weather Effect. It has changed direction contrary to existing
outstanding weather patterns and is heading directly for
Metropolis. Speed is currently holding at one hundred and twenty
five miles an hour. Attention Superman…the hurricane- "
Clark tuned it out. He’d heard
enough. He walked out of the Bioworks building and stood on the
sidewalk, ignoring the jostling crowds around him as he looked
up.
The sky over Metropolis was now completely dark with
black, evil looking clouds that looked as if they were going to fall
and crush Metropolis any second now. Clark looked around and saw
a subway kiosk. It was the downtown Q train of the
MetroLine. Clark smiled and ran to the kiosk and hurried down the
steps, mumbling “excuse me’s” and “pardon
me’s” as he disappeared into the gloom.
Two seconds later on the opposite side of the street
the powerful red and blue form of Superman flew out of the uptown
kiosk, streaking upwards toward the black sky.
As he got closer he could tell that this was indeed
the same storm. Every storm had it’s own electromagnetic
pattern, each as distinctively unique as a human’s
fingerprint. But why had it come to Metropolis? Immediately
Superman began running through his own mental database of weather
controlling super-villains. Maybe he should get in mental contact
with J’onn and ask him to-
-A whirling geyser of wind seemed to come out of
nowhere right up under Superman and took him by surprise. The
blast was strong enough to knock him off course and he tumbled through
the sky for at least seven hundred feet before he was able to pull
himself out of his uncontrolled flight. He hovered in the air,
his cape snapping as the howling winds roared around him. He used
his Telescopic Vision to probe deeper into the storm. There was
something very different about this storm. The concentration of
electromagnetic energy was far higher and way more concentrated than
any other storm he’d been in before. If Superman
didn’t know better, he would say that the storm actually
possessed intelligence.
He flew on toward the very center of the
storm. Great jagged bolts of lightning crashed and boomed around
him but he swiftly dodged them, swooping around them with an ease that
was almost playful. All Superman had to do was find the center of
the storm and once there, he would extend his arms and spin at
hypervelocity strong enough to disperse the storm. He’d
done it numerous times in this past and even though this particular
storm was more powerful than others, it should still work-
-Two massive bolts of lightning arced at Superman,
one coming from the left and the other from above. Superman
jinked to the right, avoiding the bolt from the left but he
couldn’t avoid the one from above and it caught him square,
outlining The Man of Steel in a brilliant golden corona that made his
hair stand up. The force of the lightning bolt threw him out of
the sky and he plummeted to the uncaring concrete streets far below.
Superman smashed through the pavement, tumbling over
and over, and plunging right through to the MetroLine where he crashed
onto the tracks with a heap of rubble. Superman slowly stood up,
his body smoking as his hair returned to normal. Now he was
certain that he wasn’t dealing with any ordinary storm. The
bolt from the left had been thrown solely to trick him into the path of
the one from above, which was the most powerful one. Superman
estimated that he’d been hit with enough juice to light up Tokyo
for a week. And it had hurt.
Superman took eight seconds to clear the tracks of
the rubble, fly back through the hole he had created when he hit the
street, repairing it while he did so and zoomed back upwards at the
storm. Stinging curtains of rain were now slashing at the proud
skyscrapers of Metropolis and lightning bolts were coming so fast and
furiously that Superman was hard pressed to avoid them.
“YOU TOOK THEM FROM ME, SUPERMAN!” The
storm screamed in a voice of thunder. Superman stopped,
surprised. So the storm was
intelligent.
“Who did I take from you? Who are
you?”
The rolling clouds swirled with purpose and gathered
themselves into the form of a huge, blue skinned man, titanic in size,
easily dwarfing Superman. His hair was a wild tangle of silver
clouds and lightning crackled from his eyes. “YOU TOOK THEM
FROM ME! WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO INTERFERE WITH A MAN AND HIS
FAMILY?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking
about! I don’t even know who you are!”
The living storm had distracted Superman just
enough. Half a dozen lightning bolts of mammoth power struck The
Man of Steel at the same time and the world vanished in a blinding
yellow haze of agony that Superman felt in his very bones. He
heard the booming voice of the living storm as he again fell from the
sky.
“I AM TYPHOON! A
NAME METROPOLIS WILL LONG REMEMBER AS THE NAME OF THE MAN WHO KILLED SUPERMAN!”
NEXT:
So why would one of Firestorm’s old sparring partners have
a beef with The S? Can Superman find out before Typhoon tears
Metropolis apart? Meanwhile, Lois receives some surprising news
that may change the relationship between her and Clark forever!
And we’ll find out more about what Lex Luthor is up to as the day
of his trial gets ever closer! All this and more in SUPERMAN #30!
