Steel Shadows
by Paul-Gabriel Wiener <pgwfolc@netscape.net>
A 2006 Fundraiser Fanfic
Rated: PG
Submitted: May, 2007

Author's note:

This story was written for and donated to the Archive/MBs/etc.
DVD fundraiser. There was a spiffed-up HTML version with a
logo/banner created by BanAnna and some nice visual and
navigation features that I threw together (with help from some
friendly FoLCs here on the boards - particularly Karen), but I
decided to make that exclusive to the DVD.

As with all my longer stories (and this one is my longest solo
effort to date, not counting "Finding Clark Kent," where the
readers did most of the plotting work), this one is rather
different than you might expect. Each of my rare 50k and over
stories has been unique in its own way. This one has been
written in journal style, and spans almost the entire timeline
of the show. Don't expect it to be funny or whatever (though it
has its moments now and again, I hope). I'm not saying it's a
bad story. In fact, I'm fairly excited about it. I'm just saying
that I think you'll have a better time if you approach it as
free from expectations as possible.

Moving on to more important and less confusing matters, I'd like
to thank my secret guardians, Sara Kraft and CC Aiken.

Sara was there from the beginning on this one, and with plenty
of enthusiasm, to boot. Even when she was swamped with work and
RL stuff, she always found the time to help with odd random
questions and throw in some words of encouragement. Her comments
were a delight to read, and, basically, I don't know where or
what this story would have been without her. Oh, and let me not
forget that awesome trailer. (Yay! I have a trailer! No one's
ever made a trailer for me before!) She did a fantastic job, and
was very patient and understanding as I "helped" her with the
editing process. In short, she is just too cool.

CC's involvement started when I cautiously and tentatively wrote
asking for permission to borrow a little something (which slowly
grew during the writing process...). I was on vacation at the
time with my family and having a great time, but CC's response
was so glowingly positive that it remains in my mind as a
highlight of the trip. We exchanged a few more emails over the
next week or so, and next thing I knew, she'd signed on as a
full BR. It was more than I'd ever hoped for. Her comments were
even better. Some helpful, some very insightful, some hilarious,
and all a joy to read. Furthermore, without my saying anything,
she would invariably manage to praise exactly the things I'd
been doubting. Working with her has been an unforgettable
experience.

I'd also like to thank my GE, Tricia Walpole. She read quickly
and carefully, and her response was friendly, efficient, and,
most of all, gratifying. She turned necessary work into what
felt like one of the best FDK letters I've gotten in a long
time. Working with her was a pleasure. :) 

With those three on the job, I can confidently assure you that
any mistakes left are purely Tommy's.

Last, but certainly not least, I want to extend my thanks to
BanAnna. She made the awesome logos for the trailer and the
(Fundraiser DVD exclusive) HTML version. She worked amiably with
me through several revisions, skillfully putting together what I
referred to as the "I have no right to ask for this" version of
my original idea. She patiently reassured me more than once
(when I worried about the imposition) that she enjoyed helping a
friend. She was even glad to get suggestions for revisions so
that she'd know I'd be happy with the final results. She, like
the others, was an invaluable help and a real blessing. 

Finally, the good old standard disclaimer. Lois, Clark, and
related characters are not mine. They belong to Time-Warner, ABC
television, December Third Productions, and possibly others. I'm
just borrowing them for a little non-profit fun. They go right
back in the box when I'm done. Dialogue and plots were also
taken from various episodes of the show and worked into the
story as needed. Those are rightfully the property of the show's
writers.

Okay... enough of that. On to the story!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #1
OCTOBER - NOVEMBER, 1993
(I'll try to get the
dates right, but it's
been a long time...)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a story that needs to be told. Even if it's never read,
it should be written down somewhere. By now, it should be safe.

My name is Tommy Garrison. You probably don't remember me. My
fifteen minutes of fame were up a long time ago. I was a boxer.
The best there was. Thanks to a little mechanical help, that is.
Unfortunately, the boxing commission didn't think it was really
fair to have cyborgs in the ring. I was banned from the sport,
fired from the only job I knew how to do.

Things did not go well for me after that. I hadn't committed any
crime. All I'd done was let a doc rebuild my arms using better
materials. Oh, and then get cocky from it and challenge Superman
to a fight. Which I lost. Badly. Not the greatest idea in the
world, I'll grant you, but let's just say that I was thinking
with my fists at the time. Superman, though... he knocked some
sense into me.

After our fight, I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and set
about trying to do the right thing. Like I said, though, things
did not go so well. No one wanted to hire a guy with robotic
arms and a reputation for having a short temper. Especially not
after said guy had tried to punch out Superman. Besides, I had
no skills. There isn't much call for a boxer who can't box
anymore.

I tried moving away, hoping to start fresh somewhere else, but
it turns out that travelling with what amounts to a pair of
concealed deadly weapons (made with enough metal to set off even
the weakest detectors)... It's not so easy.

I tried hiring myself out as muscle, but quickly found that a
boxer's reflexes don't do so much good when the other guy has a
knife -- or worse, a gun. I probably could have learned, but I
didn't have the money to train myself. The kind of people who
would have hired me weren't about to pay for my training out of
the goodness of their hearts, either. Not with my history.

I did eventually get hired as a dockworker. They don't ask too
many questions there. Not if you can bench press crates that
normally take a forklift to move. But that didn't last, either.
There was a strike, and I had to go with it. By the time it was
resolved, I'd gotten rusty. Literally. And I had no one to fix
me back up.

So, barely a month after I'd been looking at a national title, I
found myself a washed-up wreck. No job. No money. No place to
live. And a pair of arms that were rapidly becoming little more
than dead weights.

I probably wouldn't have made it at all if not for Bibbo
Bibowski. I'd met him on the docks. He was an ex-prizefighter,
like me. Though that didn't really help matters. Bibbo had
retired after a good career. I'd been kicked out for illegal
enhancements. It also didn't help that Bibbo was Superman's
self-proclaimed "number one fan."

Somehow, though, Bibbo didn't let any of that stop him from
looking after me. He didn't have much, but he did whatever he
could. He said "the big guy" would do no less. I could have
pointed out that "the big guy" had, in fact, done less. I almost
did, but... Superman was Bibbo's hero, and Bibbo was about the
only friend I had left. So, I ignored the subject and life went
on.

Then, one day, out of nowhere, a note appeared. It just fell,
seemingly out of thin air, into my lap.

"Tommy, if you join us, we can help you. Come to 38th and
Shuster at 9pm tonight. -- S. S."

Well, that seemed pretty suspicious to me, but it wasn't like I
had a better choice. So, I went.

The corner was dark, quiet, and empty. Very empty. Or so I
thought before a scraping sound attracted my attention. Looking
around, I noticed a manhole cover starting to move. One end had
been raised an inch or so above street level. As I watched, the
other end started to rise, as well. Then, the whole thing moved,
seemingly by itself, to the side, leaving the manhole open.

I waited, but no one came up. I looked down the hole. There was
no one there. The street still looked empty. I made my way over
to where the cover was lying in the street. I picked it up.
There was nothing attached to it. No hidden wires or anything. I
frowned. Something had to have moved it.

"Just go down the ladder, will ya?" The voice came suddenly,
from somewhere near my elbow. It sounded like a kid. I jumped
and whirled around, but there was still nothing there.

"Shh. No talking above ground." Another kid. A girl, by the
sound of it. There was still no one in sight. I glanced around,
hoping to spot some speakers, but it was too dark.

"*You* just talked." The first voice again, still close by.

"Only because you did."

"You just talked again."

"So did you."

I sighed, annoyed but also somewhat relieved. At least if it was
kids (even if I couldn't see them), I could probably stop
worrying about at least a few of the possible reasons a person
would have for inviting me to a mysterious meeting in a dark and
isolated section of the city. On the other hand, the note had
promised help, and I doubted a couple of kids, whatever little
tricks they had to hide themselves, could fix my arms. "You the
ones who're supposed to help me?" I felt kind of stupid talking
to thin air, but it wasn't like standing around listening to the
voices argue was much better.

"Well... yeah."

"You gonna fix this?" I moved my arm a bit, in a way I knew all
too well would make a noticeable grating sound.

It was a moment before he spoke again. "Oh. That. That doesn't
sound so good. ... We couldn't fix that. Not anymore. But we'll
take you to someone who can."

"Someone who lives in the sewers?"

"Shh." The girl again. "We really shouldn't be talking like this
up here. Go on down. We'll follow you. We can talk when we're
all at the bottom."

I thought about it. The whole thing kept getting more and more
suspicious. Called out to a dark alley, spoken to from out of
thin air. Instructed to go down into the sewers, where anything
could happen. But... what did I have to lose, really? And they
had promised help. I needed help, I admitted to myself. I needed
it badly enough that I couldn't afford to pass up even this slim
and dubious chance to get it. So, finally, I climbed down the
ladder. I tried to move my arms as little as possible. No sense
making those gears grate any more than necessary, especially not
after that demonstration. By the time I got to the bottom, the
manhole cover was back in place.

Less than a minute later, a girl's head appeared, floating in
mid-air. She was wearing some kind of weird-looking goggles. I
was still staring when suddenly a boy's head appeared a couple
feet from the girl's. He was wearing goggles, too. The goggles
made it hard to see their faces, but I guessed they were about
10 years old. Early teens at the most.

"Okay," the girl said, taking off her goggles. "We can talk now.
I'm Karen. He's Dudley. We were sent to meet you and lead you
back to the Fortress. Everyone else is waiting there." As she
spoke, the rest of her body thankfully came into view under her
head. She was wearing a coverall made of some kind of whitish
fabric.

"Everyone else? Who else? And what's this all about?" I
demanded, frustrated. I was getting a little tired of all this
mystery. And, despite myself, I was still nervous.

Dudley spoke up. He was visible now, too, and wearing a suit
made of the same material as Karen's. "Right now, there's Philip
and Alan and Bobby and --"

I managed not to growl. Barely. "Never mind. Names tell me
nothing. Just tell me what's going on. The note said you could
help me."

"Yeah, that's Alan. He's the guy who made these suits. He can
take care of your arms."

"It's not just that," Karen added. "You'll have a place with us.
A room, food, something to do..."

"Uh-huh." A room in the sewers. Great. Just what I always
wanted. "And what do I gotta do for all this help?"

Dudley looked at me like it should have been perfectly obvious.
"Help us."

I frowned at him. "Help you what?"

It was Karen who answered this time. "It's... complicated. The
others can explain it better. Come on, we'll take you to them
and we can talk it out when we're all together."

Reluctantly, I agreed. I still didn't know what I was getting
into, but standing around badgering a couple of kids wasn't
going to help. So I let them lead me through a maze of tunnels.
By the time we got to the door, I was completely turned around.
Nowhere to go but forwards, I thought to myself.

Karen opened the door. I followed Dudley through it and into
another tunnel. This one was different, though. There were a
couple of cameras and some kind of nozzles set into the walls.
Around the bend and past what seemed to be defensive barricades,
there was another door, this one reinforced metal. It swung open
by itself as I neared it. The kids led me through that door, a
few rooms, and another tunnel. Finally, the tunnel opened into a
larger room.

It was clearly set up as a multi-purpose living space. There was
a small kitchen area, a recreation area with a large TV and a
variety of toys and games, and a central table. It could have
been the main room in just about any city bachelor pad. Except
for the stone sewer walls. And the complete lack of windows.
And, of course, the equipment in the corner. It was a
complicated set-up involving a lot of monitors, controls, and
other things I couldn't identify. I'd never seen anything like
it, but it looked like it belonged in a certain rumored cave in
Gotham. There was an armchair in front of the main console. It
swung around. Seated in the chair was... another kid.

"Welcome," he said grandly, "to the Fortress of Sewertude."

"Uh, yeah. Thanks."

"Okay, Phillip," said an amused voice behind me, "you got to say
it. Are you happy now?"

I whirled around. There was someone standing in the doorway
across from the monitors. An adult. Thank heavens. "Who're you?
You in charge of these kids?"

He chuckled. "Not exactly. My name is Bobby. I'm kind of the
group's front man. I don't spend as much time down here as the
others, but it's okay. The kids can take care of themselves,
mostly."

"Yer kiddin' me. You telling me these kids live down here in the
sewers by themselves?" Kids hiding out in the sewers? It sounded
like something out of a cartoon. Well, at least they weren't
green or something.

Another man, this one small and middle-aged, stepped forward,
around Bobby. "Not exactly. I live down here, too. Got my
workshop and everything. But the kids really can take care of
themselves. I mean, they did take over the city for a while..."

"What? Oh! Turning the water into goo and that thing with the
ATMs. That was you guys?"

"Yeah, that was us," Phillip said. "We were the Smart Kids."

"How'd you end up down here?"

"Well, we kind of got lost in the system," Phillip explained.
"The orphanage records got taken by the police, and everyone
thought someone else was looking out for us. Not that we really
had a place to begin with. That orphanage was where they stuck
kids they didn't know what to do with. When it closed, they kind
of ran out of options for us. Not that the place was that great
to start out with."

"They closed the orphanage on you guys?"

"Temporarily, they said. For investigation. The staff doctor was
doing some pretty shady things."

"Like experimenting on us," Karen put in.

"Experimenting on you?" She couldn't possibly mean it like it
sounded, I thought. I was wrong.

Phillip shook his head at my ignorance. "How do you think we got
so smart? He came up with some stuff. Mentamide 5, he called it.
When we drank it, it made us smart. For a while. Then it wore
off. He had us going back and forth, on and off, so he could
study us. That's why we broke out."

"So, what? You still taking the stuff now?"

"Nah," he responded. "We ran out, and the doc died. Besides,
it's not good for you long-term. Most of us are back to normal
now."

"Most of you?"

He nodded. "Except me. I took a newer version. Mentamide 6. I
only had one dose, but it lasts a lot longer. Some of it's worn
off, but I think I'll always be at least a little sharper than I
otherwise would have been."

"Good for you, kid." I turned back to the new guy, whom I
(correctly, as it turned out) assumed was Alan, the one who'd
made the invisibility suits. "So you live down here with the
kids, and you guys do... what?"

"Well," he responded shyly, "not much... yet. We've mostly been
getting things set up. Phillip here had to remake his whole
camera network by himself. Bobby and I have been making this
little place more livable. The other kids have been scouting
around and placing new cameras..."

"Uh-huh." Camera networks, invisible scouts, secret underground
lair... What was I getting into? "So yer spies?"

Alan stepped back, shocked. "No, no! Nothing like that. Well,
not really. We're... uhm... Bobby?"

Bobby smiled ruefully. "Thanks, Alan," he said dryly. Then,
turning back to me, he gestured at the table. "Why don't we all
sit down, and we'll try to explain things to you..."

So, that's what we did. It took a while, so I'll spare you the
details. It seemed some guy by the name of H. G. Wells had
gotten in touch with Bobby a few years back. Wells was a time
traveller. Bobby didn't believe it at first, and I had a hard
time, too, but Wells had come armed with an "advance copy" of
the Daily Planet. It was enough to convince Bobby. I still
wasn't sure, but I decided to let it go. Later events were
enough to erase any lingering doubts I had.

Wells had come to Bobby to offer him a deal. Wells, using his
knowledge of the future, would help Bobby get rich. In return,
Bobby would help guide events to some kind of happy ending.
Bobby would work as an informant for a couple of reporters,
pretending to work for nothing more than some food. The
information would come from Bobby's street contacts, but also
from a secret group which Bobby would help found. The group
would be made up of the forgotten people. People like Alan, the
invisible man. People like the kids. People like... me.

The group would monitor events, gathering information.
Sometimes, they'd pass it along to the reporters, through Bobby.
Sometimes they'd act on it themselves. And that was where I came
in. They wanted me to be the group's muscle.

"Hey, I tried muscle work," I told them when they got to that
part. "It didn't work out so good. I'm a boxer, not a bodyguard.
I'm not used to dealing with weapons. I found that out the hard
way."

Dudley flashed me a grin. "Yeah, but you didn't have an
invisible suit before."

"I'll help you train, too," Bobby put in. "I've got the money
and the contacts. I can send you to a school where they won't
ask too many questions."

"Besides," Phillip said, "it's more of a risk to go back. We'll
give you food and shelter and fix your arms. How much longer do
you think you can manage topside, without us?"

I had to admit, those were some good points. It still didn't
sound that great to me. Risking my life to help people I didn't
know, at the direction of some nutty guy who said he was a time
traveller. But, as I'd told myself a few times already that
night (and as Phillip had just reminded me), it wasn't like I
had a better choice. I needed their help. Room and board sounded
good, too. If they were a few tacos short of a Happy Meal, well,
I'd put up with worse. So, I said I'd join up. They all smiled
at that, but I ignored it.

We moved on to more technical stuff. Phillip had the camera
network set up. The monitors would keep track of events on the
surface, and the kids would go out as needed. There were two
more kids who'd be around during the day. Aymee and her little
sister, Inez, had been at the orphanage with the other Smart
Kids, but their mother was still alive. She'd given her kids up
shortly after her husband had left her. With little money and no
income, she hadn't felt like she could properly provide for a
family. After everything that had happened, though, she'd
decided to give it another try. Bobby had quietly helped by
seeing that she was hired at one of his restaurants. He'd also
told her that he'd provide day care for her kids. He just hadn't
mentioned that it would be in the sewers. She'd been shown a
facility, had met Alan, found him trustworthy, and had been too
grateful to ask more. Amy and Inez, who had already proven that
they weren't too shy to stand up for themselves, had assured her
they were happy with the arrangement, and (new to parenting and
all too aware of the tentative nature of the
as-yet-barely-reestablished bond with her kids), that had been
enough for her.

As for Alan, he'd been recruited after quitting his job at
Lexcorp. He'd happily taken the position after his invisibility
suits had hit the front pages, but had rapidly learned that it
wasn't the working environment for him. He'd been asked to make
too many ethical compromises. He'd fought with his wife over the
decision. Their marriage had been on shaky ground, anyway, since
Alan had a way of paying a lot more attention to his lab
equipment than his spouse. They split up, and he moved out.

Unlike me, when Bobby had approached him, Alan had jumped at the
chance to do some good in the world. Already used to spending
most of his time in an underground lab (first in his basement,
then at Lexcorp), he'd settled smoothly into life at the
Fortress. Bobby provided him with all the equipment he needed,
and he wasted no time in using that equipment to do exactly what
he'd refused to do for Luthor -- recreate his invisibility
suits. The work had gone quickly, with Phillip's help, and
they'd even made some improvements, like adding UV goggles to
pick up the invisible light the suits put out. I was glad for
that. One of the first things I learned when I started working
with the group was that it really helped to be able to see your
own hands, not to mention your teammates.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #2
EARLY DECEMBER, 1993
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not much really happened for the first few weeks after I joined
up. I started training. Alan made a suit in my size. I met the
kids' pet pig, Socrates. I taught the kids' pet pig, Socrates,
to stay away from me. Dudley came up with a name for the group
-- The Steel Shadows. I wasn't too happy about the Superman
reference, but I decided that as long as I was getting what I
needed from them, I didn't really care what they called
themselves. I went back up to the surface a few times. Told
Bibbo I was moving, but I'd keep in touch. Oh, and I met Gina,
Aymee and Inez's mother.

She'd heard that there was someone new working at "day care,"
and she wanted to meet me. So, one night, at the end of her
shift, I went topside. Bobby arranged for us to have dinner at
one of his restaurants. Nothing too fancy, but good food. We
were seated in a booth up front, in a corner behind the door. It
was oddly placed, but it gave us a little more privacy.

Sitting across from her, I was kind of surprised to realize that
she wasn't a bad looker. Her kids were cute enough, I supposed,
but I'd never really thought about their mother. She'd had a
hard life, that was plain to see, but underneath that, she cut a
nice figure. Not that I was looking that much, but it made being
sent up to ease her suspicions (something that hadn't really
been in the job description) a little less bothersome.

"So what did you do before, Tommy?" she asked me at one point.
"You don't seem like the type for day care."

"I used to work on the docks," I admitted. "But the union went
on strike, and well... I guess you could say I was down on my
luck." I stopped myself, realizing that I didn't really want to
talk about it. "What about you, Gina?" I asked. Thankfully, she
seemed to understand.

"I work at the diner all day. It's not easy, but I take home
decent pay. It's for love, really. After the whole thing with
the kids, I realized that you've got to hold on to what you've
got in this world. The girls and I, we've got each other, and
that's a lot. So, whether I'm ready for single motherhood or
not... for love of my kids, I'll give it a shot."

I stared at her, fascinated by her intensity. She noticed,
suddenly, and trailed off, blushing. "I'm sorry," she said,
looking away. "I didn't mean to..."

"No, it's okay. I know what you mean. Sometimes... you live for
the fight when that's all that you've got." It wasn't quite what
I'd meant to say, but it seemed right, somehow. She looked back
at me, then, and we saw it in each other's eyes. A mutual
understanding of what we'd both survived.

Then some kid walked by outside, his stereo blasting out an old
Bon Jovi song, and the moment was broken.

We stuck to more casual topics after that. After dinner, we went
our separate ways. I returned to life in the sewers, which,
somehow, had started to feel like home.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #3
LATE DECEMBER, 1993 TO
EARLY JANUARY, 1994
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things went pretty normally for a while after that. Training
continued. I learned how to fight while invisible. Alan had to
redesign part of my suit, since the gloves tended to wear out
pretty quickly. We had a small Christmas party. Bobby got gifts
for the kids. New Year's came and went. I saw Gina a couple more
times, when Alan was working on something and asked me to return
Aymee and Inez from "day care." Like I said... normal.

And then *he* showed up.

It was late. The kids were in bed, and Alan was either asleep or
holed up in his lab. It was my turn to stay up and watch the
monitors. I was having a quiet dinner at the table (while
glancing at the monitors every now and again) when a voice spoke
up behind me.

"Good evening."

I jumped up and whirled around. The voice had been polite
enough, but it wasn't one I'd recognized. Worse, there had been
no warning. Whoever it was had bypassed all the alarms.

I was shocked (and a little relieved) to discover that it was a
small, unassuming, and somewhat elderly man. I didn't know what
to make of him, but I was fairly sure he didn't belong in the
Fortress. "Who're you?" I demanded.

"You must be Tommy," he said, giving me a quirky little smile.
"I am delighted to meet you."

I glowered at him and took a step forward.

"My name," he continued, seemingly unfazed, "is H. G. Wells." He
spoke in formal and precise tones, as if we were at some kind of
tea party.

"Uh-huh." If he was Wells (and he did seem to fit Bobby's
description), then I supposed he had a right to be there. "And,
uh, what brings you to, uhm, grace us with your presence at this
time?"

If he realized I was making fun of him, he chose to ignore it.
"Excellent question, my boy. You see, I have come to --"

"My boy?"

My tone of voice got through that time. "Er, sorry. Force of
habit, you know, my... good man?"

I grunted assent. "That'll do," I added when our esteemed
visitor continued to hesitate.

"Yes. Good, then." He fidgeted around for a second before
managing to pick up the thread of what he'd been saying. "*Ahem*
Well, you see, I came here to warn you of a dire catastrophe."

"Something bad's gonna happen?" He didn't exactly look the part
of the messenger of doom.

He paused, a confused frown on his face, then gave another
little cough before continuing. "Yes, exactly, my b -- good man.
An asteroid will shortly be discovered heading for Earth."

"Uh-huh. And what are we supposed to do about that?"

He paused again, fidgeting. I made a mental note to try not to
interrupt him so much. It seemed to really throw him off. "The
asteroid. No, you don't need to do anything about that. In fact,
part of the reason I came here was to tell you not to worry
about it. Superman will take care of the asteroid. He will
strike it, breaking it into smaller pieces. Unfortunately, he
will lose his memory in the process."

"It'll be that -- Never mind."

"Right. He will lose his memory, but there will still be a large
chunk threatening Earth. Because of his amnesia, he won't show
up for a while, and everyone will think he is missing.
Eventually, of course, he will regain his memory and save the
day. With fourteen minutes to spare, actually. The time leading
up to that, however, will be... *ahem* rather tense."

"I see." I tried to imagine what it would be like if everyone
thought the world was about to end. Not a pretty situation. I'd
be glad to be in the sewers, away from the panic.

"Yes, well, obviously Superman won't be around to help calm
things. So you and the others will have to help, shall we say,
keep the peace?"

Oh, right. We were supposed to be the "good guys." That was my
job, the reason they'd taken me in. On the other hand...
"Everyone will be going nuts because they think it's the end,
that Superman won't be able to save them, right?"

"Yes, exactly. You, on the other hand, will be able to keep calm
because you will know in advance that Superman will recover in
time."

"So why don't you just tell everyone else that?"

He seemed genuinely taken aback by the situation. "Oh no, that
would be interfering with history. I couldn't do that. Very
dangerous doing that, don't you know..."

That raised my eyebrows. "And, uh, what do you think yer doing
with us? Tipping us off in advance? Heck, getting the group
together in the first place. Isn't that 'interfering with
history'?"

"No, no. That's entirely different. You are here to help keep
history on track."

"Uh-huh."

"Yes, very different," he said, nodding enthusiastically to
himself. "Very different, indeed."

I stared at him, saying nothing.

"Which actually brings up a good point. You see, history records
the challenges and difficulties which were overcome by Superman
and... uhm... the people close to him." He looked uncomfortable
as he worked his way through that last part, as if he was
picking his words with even more care than usual. I didn't pay
that too much attention at the time, though, because something
had clicked in the back of my mind.

"Like those reporters the kids are always watching." I'd always
wondered why they seemed to keep a closer eye on that newsroom
than any place else. Well, any place but that warehouse...

He brightened at that. "Exactly! Now, if you were to interfere
with those challenges, you could alter history. The consequences
could be catastrophic. So, for the most part, you should assume
that situations involving Superman will be properly resolved.
I'll let you know when that is not the case. For example,
history does not mention anything further about Bureau 39 from
this point forward."

"Yeah. Phillip is keeping an eye on them. Dudley and Aymee set
up some cameras and stuff near their meeting points."

"Ah, excellent. Well done." He smiled, and looked like he was
going to try to pat me on the arm or something, but then thought
better of it. He fidgeted a bit, then continued. "The other
exception is clean-up work. Once the situation is resolved and
Superman has done his part, history generally records that as
the end of his involvement."

"You mean like the way he left the kids to get lost in the
system? Or never checked on Alan? Or me?" Not that what had
happened to me wasn't my own fault, or that I'd been
particularly nice to him, but it irritated me sometimes, the way
everyone talked about him as if he could do no wrong.

"Er... well... I suppose so..."

"Yeah. Great guy. Real super."

Wells jerked straight, as if he'd suddenly developed a very
rigid backbone. "Young man, we are talking about someone who is
about to risk his life to save the entire world, and who will do
so again many times. A man who has arguably done more good in
this world than just about anyone in all of history. He may not
take every waking moment to check on all the people he's
previously saved, but do not question his accomplishments!"

"Uhm, yeah. Sorry," I said halfheartedly. I still wasn't
entirely convinced, but I didn't feel like arguing about it.
"You were saying?"

He blinked, and seemed to deflate a bit as his indignation
melted out of him. "Mmm, yes. Quite. You should avoid situations
in which Superman or his friends are involved. You should,
however, attempt to avert those disasters which history said
weren't supposed to happen and attempt to help with situations
of which Superman is not aware or cannot, for some other reason,
be of help."

I looked at him blankly. How were we supposed to know whether a
situation was supposed to happen?

Noticing my expression, Wells paused. "In cases where the
difference between those situations is not obvious, I will, of
course, warn you. If you're still not sure, Phillip's computer
also has a special secured database. It's designed to give you
only the minimum necessary information. You will not be able,
for example, to use it to access information about the future.
It should, however, be able to help you determine whether or not
a given situation in the present will require your
involvement."

I nodded. That was good to know.

"Good, then. You should also keep an eye out for the aftermath
of situations in which Superman's involvement is complete. Those
situations are particularly important, since they can lead to
later problems. Cleaning up will also sometimes present the
group with new recruits. For example, the asteroid's approach
will be a life-altering experience for many people. If you keep
your eyes open, you may well find an unexpected ally."

"That's a tall order."

"You'll manage. All of you. I'm sure of it."

"Yeah, sure," I said dismissively. Before he could respond, I
brought up another question. "What about Bobby?"

That threw him off. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Bobby. You said we shouldn't interfere with Superman or his
friends. So what about Bobby?"

"Ah. He's a little different. History records that he was an
invaluable source for Lois Lane and Clark Kent, providing key
information on several occasions. If Lois and Clark come looking
for help and information, then you are to provide for them to
the best of your abilities."

I shrugged. "Okay."

"Well, that's good, then. I think we've covered the important
things. So, Mr. Garrison, how do you find life down here in --
Oh dear." He looked down. I followed his gaze. Socrates had
noticed our visitor and become curious about the unusual fabric
of his pants. "Oh my. Uhm, pardon me..." Wells continued to
mutter in distressed tones as he struggled to free his pants leg
from the pig's mouth. "Yes, well, if there's nothing else..."

I didn't quite manage to hide my smile. "No, I think we're
okay."

"Good, good," he replied, distracted. He started to head for the
door, struggling to keep himself free of Socrates. "I think I'll
be going. Carry on. Remember about the asteroid. You'll do fine,
I'm sure. Until next time..."

"Yeah. Bye." After Wells had made his way out the door and
disappeared, Socrates came back. He gave me a wide berth, as
usual, but then I slipped him a few scraps from the remnants of
my now cold dinner. He seemed surprised, but wasn't about to
complain. "Good pig."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #4
EARLY JANUARY, 1994
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The group took the news about the asteroid pretty well. I also
mentioned the other stuff, about what we were and weren't
supposed to do, but it turned out that they already knew most of
it. They had, after all, spoken to Wells before I'd joined up.
So, we focused on the asteroid. What we would need to do, how we
could prepare for it... I still wasn't quite ready to believe it
all, but the others seemed to take it that if Wells said it was
going to happen, it was going to happen.

Then, that afternoon, it happened. An unexpected solar eclipse.
I didn't notice it myself, but Dudley, on monitor duty, called
us together and pointed it out. It was an odd moment for me.
Seeing solid proof that Wells knew what he was talking about was
pretty jarring. Suddenly, I started to take our vague plans a
little more seriously.

Superman took off the following morning. We listened in as he
approached, impacted... and then disappeared. We'd known it was
coming, but it was still a shock.

The next few nights, as we'd planned, I went out on patrol.
Phillip watched the monitors, keeping in touch with us by radio.
It wasn't so bad at first. People assumed Superman would recover
and save the day. Every day he didn't show up, though, things
got a little more chaotic. The first night or two, I went out
with Dudley and Karen as backup. After that, though, things were
so bad that we decided to keep the kids in the Fortress. Being
invisible just wasn't protection enough.

I wasn't too happy about going out, myself, but I didn't need
anyone to remind me that it was my job. The Steel Shadows had
kept their promise. They'd fed me, given me a place to live, and
kept my arms in good condition. It was time for me to hold up my
end of the deal.

So, I went out into the night, sometimes visible, sometimes not.
My training paid off, as did the immobilizing goo the kids had
developed. I stopped muggers and looters, and saved people from
other dangers. There was always someone out there who needed to
be saved from something. I started to get an idea of what things
must be like for Superman. I wondered what made him do it.

I got a clue to that puzzle on the fourth day. I hadn't really
been paying too much attention during the days, since I was
mostly on night duty. But the word "amnesia" caught my
attention. Wells had told me Superman would have amnesia from
the impact. But when I looked at the monitors, I saw that it was
Clark Kent they were talking about.

I asked Aymee, who was taking her turn at the monitors, about
it. She looked at me oddly, like she was wondering if I was
joking or something. Then her face changed and became more
guarded. I wasn't sure what to make of it.

"That's because Clark is Superman, silly!"

I nearly jumped. I'd forgotten Inez was there.

Aymee looked at her little sister furiously. "Inez! You're not
supposed to tell anyone about that!"

Her eyes opened wide. "Even Uncle Tommy?"

Aymee looked at me, then back to her sister. "Well... Uhm..."

"Eh, it's okay," Dudley said, yawning. "He'd have found out soon
enough, living here with us."

"Wait a second. You all knew this and you didn't tell me?"

"We found out when we set up the first camera rig," Dudley said
defensively. "After we escaped from the orphanage. We haven't
told anyone."

I considered pressing the issue, but then a new thought struck
me. This was valuable information. When things settled down, I
could use it. I could get... nothing, really. Except kicked out
of my new home. For betraying the guy who'd just risked
everything to save us all. The guy who was standing there, on
the monitors in front of me, lost and confused, with no memory
of who he was. I couldn't do it. I still wasn't sure how I felt
about him, but I couldn't sell him out. It just wasn't right.

So, I said nothing. Instead, I just left the room, pleading
fatigue. It wasn't far from the truth, really. I knew I'd need
my rest if I was going to face another night like the last few.
That night promised to be the worst of them all. The asteroid
was due to hit the following afternoon. Tension had been
building over the previous days, but everyone knew that if no
one stopped the asteroid, that night would be the last before
the end of the world. Despite Wells's reassurance, even I was
scared.

When I got to the surface, however, I found that everything was
quiet. Eerily so. After all that had happened that week, it
seemed that people had better things to do on the last night of
their respective lives than to loot and steal. I walked around
the empty streets, trying to tell myself that I enjoyed the
unique view of the city, that I wasn't lonely or scared.

I'd never felt like I'd needed anyone before, but standing out
there, in the empty streets, knowing that the world could end
the next day... It was spooky, to say the least. And the
streets... they were empty because everyone else was huddled up
with their loved ones. And there I was, alone but for the
distant chatter from the comlink in my ear. But even that wasn't
for me. Not really. They were talking to each other, mostly. Me?
When it came down to it, I was just the hired muscle. They
were... a family. I didn't matter. Or, at least, that's how it
felt then, when I was out there.

Then, suddenly, something happened. A door creaked open. A
priest dashed out of the church I'd been about to pass. He
didn't spare me a glance, but just rushed by as if... as if it
was the last night of his life. I watched him go, the only other
soul I'd seen since I'd left the Fortress.

"Just my luck," said a voice behind me. "I have a spiritual
crisis, and the priest I'm talking to suddenly finds Earth."

I turned around, cursing my stupidity. I'd been so focused on
the priest that I hadn't even noticed that someone else had come
out after him. She was wearing a formal but tight sleeveless
black dress, a black lace prayer covering, and a lot of jewelry.
It looked like she'd wanted to dress conservatively, but wasn't
quite sure how.

As I came closer, I realized that she was older than she'd first
appeared. Fortyish or so, but clearly in good shape. Physically,
at least. It was also clear that she'd been crying. Inwardly, I
groaned. I was no good with crying women. But there was no one
else in sight. Even the priest was long gone.

I tried to find something to say, but soon realized I hadn't
even understood what she'd said to me. "Finds Earth?"

She looked at me, startled, as if she hadn't really noticed I
was there. She looked embarrassed for a second, but then just
sort of shrugged. It was the last night on Earth. What did a
little embarrassment matter? So, she started to speak. "Yeah. I
was in the confessional. Making progress for the first time
in... probably ever. He said something to me. He said... that
what I want is reassurance that I'm not alone, that I'm loved
for my soul. And it seemed so right. So true. I've been going to
parties and having flings and just having a good time. But I've
never really had anyone care about me because of who I am. I'm
not even sure *I* know who I am. So, I thanked him, and I told
him he was right. That was exactly what I needed, what I'd never
had. And I asked him... isn't there something you passionately
want to experience, just once, before you die? ... And the next
thing I know, the window slams shut and there are footsteps
racing away. By the time I got out of the booth, he was gone."

It didn't seem right. But people didn't always do the right
thing when it was the end of the world. If nothing else, the
last few nights had taught me that. I tried to think of what to
say. She was asking for a lot, and I didn't know what to tell
her. But she'd also said something about parties and flings and
not being happy with that. "So, yer looking to do something that
counts, is that it?"

She blinked at that, though whether it was the question itself
or just the reminder that I was there, I couldn't tell. "Yeah.
Yeah, I guess it is."

"And what do you do? Other than go to parties?"

"I... write about parties."

I started at her. "That's yer job?"

She nodded. "I'm the gossip columnist. For the Daily Planet."

"Daily Planet...? You... Cat? Is that yer name?"

She was surprised by that, and not entirely happy. "Uhm... yes.
You know my work?"

"Well... not exactly," I said, not wanting to admit that I
recognized her from having spied on the Planet's newsroom. I
needed something to distract her, I realized. A thought struck
me. She wanted to do something that mattered. She worked at the
Planet, with Clark Kent. Hadn't Wells said something about
keeping an eye out for someone going through a crisis? "But...
look. I may be able to help you."

"Uh-huh," she said, crossing her arms and giving me a look.
"Your place or mine?" she asked sarcastically.

"No, really. I'm with this group. We kind of... look out for
people. You could help us."

She stared at me, saying nothing.

I wasn't any good at this, I realized. I needed time. Come to
think, so did she. I also needed to get away so I could deal
with the voices that were suddenly shouting in my ear, courtesy
of the comlink. "This asteroid thing... It's going to work out.
Superman will save the day with..." It took me a second to
remember what I'd heard. "Fourteen minutes to spare. Trust me.
So, tonight... go home. Try to take it easy. Tomorrow night --
and there will be a tomorrow night, I promise -- if you still
think you want to do some good, wait in the lobby of the Planet
building and someone will meet you."

She stared at me a little longer, then nodded vaguely. There
didn't seem to be anything more to say after that, so we just
went our separate ways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #5
EARLY JANUARY TO
LATE MARCH, 1994
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Explaining my decision to the others wasn't easy, but they
finally agreed to give Cat a try. So, the next night, Bobby was
sent out to the Daily Planet building. She was there, in the
lobby, waiting for him. They talked. He didn't tell her
everything, of course, but it was enough. They accepted each
other.

The next month or two was thankfully routine. Cat helped us keep
an eye on the newsroom and around town. We didn't have much
contact with her, but she provided helpful information from time
to time. She clearly felt good about doing it, too.

The group gained another reserve member. Eugene Laderman, a
computer programmer who helped stop a crippling virus from
taking over the city, agreed to help us when we needed. We
didn't tell him too much, but we gave him enough that he was
willing to support us. He even wrote a program to help sort
through the information coming in through the camera network.

I went out on regular patrols. It was never as intense as it had
been with the asteroid looming overhead, but there was something
to do every night. I started to get pretty good at handling
muggers and petty thugs.

I also started to see Gina a little more often, as Alan asked me
more and more frequently to be the one to return the kids. He'd
always been the reclusive type, from what I understood, but I
didn't mind. As for Gina, she seemed to appreciate seeing me.
She, like many others, had been pretty shaken up by the
asteroid. Seeing a familiar and friendly face was good for her.

Then, one day at a group meeting, Phillip said something that
changed it all.

"Bureau 39 is developing liquid Kryptonite."

He'd been watching their activities for months, but it was the
first time he'd been able to get some idea of what they were up
to. He'd seen one of their operatives obtain the Kryptonite
months before, but none of us had been able to intercept the
deal in time or even track the rock afterwards. The best we'd
been able to do had been to keep an eye on one of their
warehouses and look out for known agents. Apparently, that had
finally paid off.

We went into high gear, trying to find out what they were
planning to do with the deadly new substance. Even so, it took
us more than two weeks to find the lab, get past their security,
and place an invisible camera in a good spot. With the camera in
place, it took days to learn what we needed to know.

Despite their change in leadership, the rogue organization was
still intent on trying to kill Superman. That much had been
obvious to us for some time. Faced with the death of Jason Trask
and the need to go even more deeply into hiding, they hadn't
managed too much at first. Now, it seemed, they had a plan. They
were going to contaminate the Daily Planet's water supply with
liquid Kryptonite. Fortunately, they didn't know how to find
Superman. Unfortunately, they knew he had an association with
the Planet and its staff. If necessary, they would fake a
disaster to lure the hero into their trap. They were hoping to
avoid that more active and potentially visible involvement,
though. Instead, they were gambling that he would be in or near
the building before the Kryptonite, which was designed to spread
slowly through the building and set into the pipes, was washed
away.

It was an even better bet than they knew. Clark would be slowly
poisoned while he was at work. Just being in or even near the
building would hurt him. Washing his hands, taking a drink...
Who knew what it could do to him? At the least, it would make
him vulnerable. And expose his identity to the people who knew
what to look for.

We had to stop them. Superman still wasn't my favorite person in
the world, but he was starting to feel like a colleague.
Patrolling the city, stopping crimes, helping people... It was
my job, and it was what he did, too. Even better than the
Shadows. He'd saved us all from the asteroid when there was
nothing the rest of us could do. He deserved better than to be
poisoned by those fanatics.

Given how difficult it had been just to get the camera into an
isolated corner of the lab, we knew there was no way we would be
able to get the Kryptonite out of the building ourselves. We
would have to wait until it was taken somewhere more accessible
-- the Planet building itself.

If we were going to intercept them at the Planet, we'd need a
diversion. Something to keep people -- especially Clark -- out
of the way, and to mask any signs of the fight. Phillip's scans
had picked up someone interesting a while back. His name was
Willie, and he was a recently paroled prisoner. He'd been
convicted of murder, but seemed to be very gentle and
non-violent. His claims of innocence actually seemed believable.
What had caught Phillip's attention, though, was his mention of
the Daily Planet. Apparently, Willie thought some old gangster's
treasure was in a safe hidden somewhere in the building.

We contacted Willie. Using Cat and some of Bobby's connections,
we convinced Perry White to help get him a job as the Planet's
nighttime security guard. In exchange, Willie agreed to wait on
his plans to dig up the vault until we gave him the go-ahead.
Willie assured us that he would find a capable crew who would
keep any other Planet employees out of the way, without using
guns or lethal force. Their work in digging up the safe would,
of course, make plenty of noise. It was perfect. We'd be able to
get into the building and take care of Bureau 39's thugs, and
everyone else would be distracted by Willie's crew.

We also contacted Eugene. From what we'd heard, Bureau 39 was
planning to inject the Kryptonite into the Planet's pipes from
underneath the building. It might have been easier for them to
put it directly into the water tower on the roof, but they were
afraid that the pumping mechanism would be too visible,
especially given that their intended victim flew. Eugene got us
maps of the tunnels and water system underneath the building. We
found the water main access and studied the nearby tunnels
carefully.

By the time we got all that ready, the lab camera had relayed
the one piece of information we'd been missing -- the date
Bureau 39 would make its move. We contacted Willie and set about
making our final preparations.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #6
MARCH 26, 1994
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything started out fine. Bureau 39 had chosen a Saturday
night to make their move. In that, their goals were the same as
ours. They didn't want to be noticed or disturbed. We got into
place early with no problems. Karen and Dudley came armed with
squirt guns filled with immobilization goo. We set up a few
remotely controlled nozzles, too. Not only would the remote
stations help with the fight, but their presence would help mask
the existence of the kids.

What we hadn't expected, though, was that a few of the Planet's
staff were in the newsroom. Jimmy was helping Perry clean out
his office. Clark was, oddly enough, working on his taxes. He'd
probably chosen to do them at the office in order to keep Perry
and Jimmy company. Jack, the new guy, had chosen to hang around,
too, though he looked to be bored. Then, to make things worse,
Lois came in with Lex Luthor, saying something about needing to
rewrite a story.

We were worried about having so many people unexpectedly in the
building, but the distraction team arrived right on time.
Phillip was disturbed to note that they had guns, but there
wasn't much we could do about that. Fortunately, they didn't
seem to be using them, other than to gain the attention of the
Planet's staff. Clark and the others were herded into Perry's
office and put under guard. The team leader claimed to have a
bomb, but, knowing Willie, we were fairly sure he was bluffing.

Overall, the situation seemed okay, but we couldn't be sure. The
newsroom camera didn't have a good angle on Perry's office.
Phillip called Cat and asked her to check things out, just in
case. Hopefully, if there was something wrong, Clark would be
able to handle it. We were going to need everyone we had to deal
with Bureau 39.

I waited for them in a darkened tunnel, hiding in the shadows.
After talking things over with the team, I'd decided to leave my
invisibility suit behind. We were giving away enough just
showing up to stop them. If they knew that we could become
invisible, they'd be a lot more prepared for us in the future.
Thanks to Alan, my arms were in top shape, and I'd had plenty of
practice fighting while out on patrol. I was confident in my
abilities, and figured that with the support of the kids, I
wouldn't need the extra advantage of the suit.

The wait started to become intolerable. It got worse when
Phillip relayed the news that someone in the newsroom had been
shot. Bureau 39's goons showed up while we were still trying to
figure out what to do about the situation upstairs. There were
four of them. One carried welding equipment. Another had the
tank of liquid Kryptonite. Attached to the tank, inside a
protective (but not lead-lined) case, was a small sample of
Kryptonite in its natural crystal shape, presumably intended as
insurance. The other two soldiers were carrying pipes and
pumping equipment. All were dressed in black fatigues, making
them almost impossible to see in the darkness of the tunnel.

I went for the welder first. I didn't want to have to worry
about him turning his blowtorch on me. Surprised by my presence
and overwhelmed by the force of my punch, he went down quickly.
The other three, however, reacted a lot more quickly than I'd
expected. Almost immediately after taking down the first
soldier, I found myself being attacked from two sides by
pipe-wielding enemies. I realized my mistake too late -- these
weren't street thugs, they were professional soldiers.

The kids opened up with their immobilization goo, but their aim
was a little off. They told me later that they'd felt shaken and
off-balance. Like me, they hadn't been as prepared as they'd
thought. They did manage to slow down one of my attackers,
though, and that gave me enough of an edge that I could at least
hold my own.

"Situation upstairs is stabilizing," Phillip said into my ear.

"Great," I muttered, dodging a punch. "Just what I needed to
know." Didn't he realize I was fighting for my life?
Distractions were the last thing I needed.

"Luthor's getting better. I think Clark had something to do with
it."

"That's wonderf -- *oof*." I staggered back from a kick to the
stomach.

"Oh. Sorry. I guess you didn't need to know that just yet..."

"Really?" I responded tersely, as I lashed out with a couple of
quick jabs.

"I'll just --"

"OW!"

Phillip thankfully lapsed into silence. With Dudley and Karen's
help and some superhuman punches, I eventually managed to knock
out one of my attackers. That took it down to one on one, but I
still took a few hits before taking care of the other. I caught
my breath, then blearily looked around. It took me a minute to
realize that there were only three soldiers on the ground but
that four had come in. The one carrying the Kryptonite had run
away, presumably under orders to safeguard his rare cargo and
bring it back for another attempt.

Luckily, Phillip had managed to tag him with a stream from one
of the remote controlled nozzles. He was running, but slowly,
hampered by the thin layer of rapidly hardening goo. I chased
after him, but with the aches and bruises I'd gotten from being
hit with the pipes, I wasn't going too fast, either.

I was still chasing him when Cat called Phillip back. She
somewhat reluctantly agreed to leave her date to go check on the
situation in the newsroom, but was understandably nervous about
the guns. Still, she was willing to at least look in on things.
She told her date that she was going to pick up something a
little more "comfortable" and headed back across town.

When I finally caught up to my quarry, he turned around and
started to fight. Battered and somewhat winded, I wasn't at my
best. He was somewhat hindered by the goo, but had the advantage
of better training. I managed to get a good shot in and take him
down, but the tank of Kryptonite got lost in the scuffle. I
looked around as carefully as I could, but it had rolled
completely out of sight.

I dragged the fourth soldier back to where the kids were
watching over the other three. Soon, all four were firmly
encased in goo. That's when we realized we didn't know what to
do with them. I wasn't going to just kill them, but it's not
like we had a place to keep them. Finally, we decided to leave
them there with their equipment, and let them try to explain to
the authorities what they'd been doing.

Soon after, Cat checked in to let us know that she made it in
and out of the newsroom. She'd seen the others, and while they'd
been worried, they'd all seemed to be pretty much unharmed.
They'd waved to her in distress, but she'd pretended to
misunderstand the signal. Then she'd hurried back out to give us
the report.

We felt like we should check for ourselves, but I was in no
shape to do so. In fact, I soon found that I needed the kids'
help to get back to base. Phillip finally realized that he could
have Alan call the police, but by the time they arrived, Clark
had already managed to save the day.

Wearily, we took stock of the situation. We'd messed up. Badly.
It was our first real operation, and our lack of experience had
clearly shown through. The only good thing that had come out of
the whole thing was that, amidst all the chaos, we'd actually
somehow stopped the soldiers from carrying out their plan and
gotten the Kryptonite out of Bureau 39's hands. In that sense,
it was a victory, of sorts. I comforted myself with that
knowledge as best I could and slowly, carefully, and painfully
eased myself into bed.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #7
LATE MARCH TO
MID MAY, 1994
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While I slowly healed, the others tried to follow up on the
aftermath of the fight. There was no sign of the Kryptonite.
Bureau 39, surprised by our interference, had gone even further
underground. The lab we'd bugged was abandoned, as were most of
the meeting places we'd been monitoring. They hadn't found the
cameras (which the kids were quick to remove), but clearly they
suspected something. Meantime, the Planet building exploded,
surprising us all and adding to our failure. We watched,
disheartened, as the staff scattered.

Then, as seemed to be his wont, Wells showed up out of the blue.
He was even more fidgety than usual. He'd come armed with a
newspaper. Of course, it wasn't the Daily Planet. It was their
rival paper, the Metropolis Star. "SUPERMAN DEAD," the headline
boldly declared in large letters.

The story explained that the hero's body had been recovered from
Hobb's Bay. There'd hardly been a mark on him. The reporter,
Linda King, speculated that Kryptonite, the substance rumored to
be able to harm the Man of Steel, had been the cause of death.
There was little more to go on, and Wells assured us that little
more would surface.

The date on the paper was about a month away. No one was
certain, but the guess was that he'd been dead for a few days
before the body had been found. The only thing we really had to
go on was Wells's suspicion that Lex Luthor, who had been due to
marry Lois Lane on around the same day that Superman had likely
died, was somehow involved. Wells assured us that Luthor was an
"unimaginably vile villain" and that, according to history,
Clark and some of the Planet's staff had stopped the wedding and
exposed his criminal activities to the world. Clark was not
supposed to die, and Lex was not supposed to win. The Steel
Shadows would have to step in and fix things.

Phillip added Luthor and his known associates to the list of
people for Eugene's program to watch. Bobby started gathering
whatever information he could get off the streets. I talked to
Bibbo, and also used my fists to back Bobby up when he needed
it. Eugene did some digging of his own. Information came in,
slowly but surely. It was what we were good at, and we were all
eager to make up for what had happened on our last mission. We
started piecing things together about Luthor.

We channeled what we had to Clark and the others, who had gotten
back together and started their own coordinated investigation.
Bobby talked to Clark directly. I made sure Jack heard the right
things off the streets. Eugene quietly helped Jimmy through his
computer. We helped get them what they needed, and their
investigations helped us find angles we might otherwise have
missed. It was all coming together nicely, but we still didn't
know anything about the Kryptonite or what was going to happen
to Clark.

We got our first clue from a bank robbery. An alarm was set off,
and Superman rushed to the scene. He seemed to stumble a bit as
he left, though. It got our attention. The cameras spotted
Luthor's aide, Mrs. Cox, in the background. Looking carefully,
we noticed a small chunk of green crystal around her neck. It
looked suspiciously like the one that had been attached to the
canister of liquid Kryptonite.

It still wasn't much to go on, though, and Luthor's wedding was
approaching rapidly. Things got even worse when Clark suddenly
disappeared the next day. We left Perry, Jimmy, and Jack to
finish up the investigation on their own and put all our efforts
into trying to find Clark.

It was Bibbo who brought us the vital bit of information. He'd
been listening for any news about Luthor. I hadn't told him why,
and he hadn't felt the need to ask. He told me that he'd heard
someone complaining about a job. Seemed Lex had wanted a cage
made in a hurry and installed in his wine cellar, of all places.
Not only that, but he'd wanted the bars coated with a special
glow-in-the-dark green paint. Pressed for time, the dockside
metalworker had converted a shark cage to suit Luthor's needs.
As soon as the task had been completed, however, he'd gone
straight to his favorite bar to tell the story. Given that it
was the night before Luthor's wedding, the odd request had
sparked off a series of wild speculations.

Not realizing the importance of the story, Bibbo didn't contact
me until the following morning. I, on the other hand, jumped
when I heard the news. Aymee, Dudley, Karen, and I suited up and
rushed across town. Invisible, we slipped past Luthor's security
and found our way to the wine cellar. We weren't sure exactly
what we'd find or what we'd be able to do, but we had to help.
Even if it meant exposing our existence to him -- something
Wells had informed us was never to happen and should be avoided
at all costs.

When we got there, Superman was still conscious, but looked to
be in extremely bad shape. He was lying on the floor, surrounded
by glowing green bars, clearly in pain. All of his attention was
focused on a key ring sitting perched on a nearby cask. He was
desperately trying to use his breath to get a strip of white
cloth to go through the ring. It looked like an impossible
task.

It was a difficult scene to grasp. This was *Superman*. The Man
of Steel. Hero to the world. A man capable of doing or surviving
just about anything you could imagine, generally without
breaking a sweat. I wasn't his biggest fan, but seeing him like
this -- weak, pained, brought low -- it affected me more than I
would have ever expected. It was wrong. Profoundly wrong. On
every level. He was supposed to be flying above us, not trapped
down here, barely able to hold his head off the floor. It was
disturbing, and, in a way, almost embarrassing, as if I'd
intruded on something private, something I wasn't supposed to
see.

Part of me, the part which saw him flying overhead and thought
it made him distant and superior, the part which still resented
him for having everything (including his reputation) come so
easily, the part which was still angry about our last encounter
and its aftermath... Part of me saw him lying there, struggling
just to move a little strip of cloth, and wanted to crow, to
shout out, "How does it feel to be stuck here with the rest of
us?" Even that part, though, knew it wasn't right. He didn't
deserve this.

Before I could decide what to do about it, Aymee dashed over.
She took the cloth in her invisible hands and threaded it
through the key ring. Superman instantly tugged on the rope,
pulling the key off the cask. It landed near him, but not close
enough to pick up. He tried to use his breath again, but was
barely strong enough to get it to move. Aymee rushed over to a
better position and, just as Superman tried to inhale again, she
kicked it over to him. It landed out of his reach. Painfully,
Superman got up and rushed at the bars. The cage jumped a little
closer to the keys, startling Aymee, who had gone over to try to
help again. The cage moved, but not far enough. He rushed the
bars again, despite the pain it obviously caused him.

It was amazing. Even in his condition, he was still fighting. I
knew a lot of people who wouldn't have had nearly that much
willpower. It made me pause. Maybe things weren't always as easy
for him as it seemed. Strength of will is like any other kind.
It helps to start out with a good frame, but (yellow sunlight
aside) developing it to that level takes exercise.

He reached out, straining, and finally managed to get the ring.
He stopped to rest, but not a moment longer than was absolutely
necessary. Soon, he got the door open. He stumbled out, looking
almost delirious. Quietly, Aymee and Karen moved in to support
him. It was a risk, but he clearly needed it. By then, he was
far gone enough that he didn't notice. If he did, he probably
put it down to his imagination.

He wasn't strong enough yet to make it out of the room. Even
with the kids helping him, he could barely stand. They helped
him find a place to rest, away from the cage and out of sight.
It seemed to help. Alan told us later that water is good at
deflecting radiation. The wine inside the huge casks he was
hiding behind had most likely shielded him from the worst of the
Kryptonite's effects.

He was still recovering, too weak to escape, when Luthor burst
into the room, looking to finish off his victim. Luthor grabbed
an axe off the wall, then rushed down the stairs. If he found
any of us, it would be a disaster. There was no time to worry
about it, though. I took up a defensive position in front of the
cask, ready to do whatever I had to.

He froze when he spotted the empty cage. The shock and disbelief
on his face was quickly replaced by frustration, hatred, and,
most of all, rage. He roared, then smashed the axe through a
nearby barrel. I watched, tense, ready in case he decided to
investigate further.

Suddenly, a noise came from upstairs. I wasn't sure what it was,
but it startled Luthor out of his anger and sent him racing,
panicked, out of the room.

Clark's sigh of relief covered my own. Soon, he tried to stand.
Aymee and Karen moved in to help him again, but he managed on
his own. They followed him closely as he made his way up the
stairs. They kept twitching, starting to reach out to support
him, then pulling back, knowing that they mustn't let him know
they were there. They helped him a time or two anyway, holding
their breath, hoping he wouldn't notice.

Once Clark and the girls were clear of the room, Dudley and I
set about dismantling the cage. We took it out in pieces and
brought them over to the Fortress to keep them out of the wrong
hands until we figured out how to dispose of them.

Later, we found out what had happened. Perry, Jimmy, and Jack
had managed to put together enough evidence to get a warrant for
Luthor's arrest. The wedding had been stopped, and, in the end,
Luthor had chosen to jump off the balcony rather than face the
consequences.

Aymee and Karen had watched Clark leave the building. Much to
their relief, he'd improved rapidly in the sunlight. He'd made
his way into a nearby alleyway, then started to change clothes.
Embarrassed, the girls had left him then, secure in the
knowledge that he would survive. We never did find out where
he'd kept his other clothes.

Lois and Clark took some time to recover from their respective
ordeals, Perry found a backer willing to rebuild the Planet, and
things returned to normal. Mostly. Jack decided that working at
a newspaper, particularly one he'd been convicted of helping
destroy, wasn't really for him. He also couldn't afford to wait
until the reconstruction was finished before getting a new job.
On the other hand, he clearly admired Clark and was reluctant to
leave him. We were surprised to discover that Jack knew Clark
was Superman. We talked about it, and, all things considered,
decided to take him in. We'd seen his work, and he was obviously
capable of keeping a secret. With us, he'd have a home, food,
something to do, and the opportunity to help his hero from time
to time. He was quick to take us up on the offer.

Things with Cat, however, were a little different. She'd felt
like she was of little use to us in Metropolis. She'd hardly
done anything for us in months. She told us she'd been thinking
of moving since the Planet had been destroyed. She'd looked
around, and had managed to get herself hired at the Washington
Post. There was always plenty of gossip in DC, she told us, and
she'd be in a good position to put her skills to use if we
needed information about government activities.

One other person's life changed at that time, too. It was
because of the newspaper Wells had left. We'd celebrated when
we'd seen that the headline had changed, but, one night, I'd
decided to read further. As I was doing so, something caught my
eye. It was a little box at the bottom of the front page which I
usually ignored. It contained the winning lotto numbers from the
day before the paper had been published -- a date which was
still in the near future. I rushed out to buy a ticket.

Once I had the ticket in hand, though, I realized that it
wouldn't do me much good. For one thing, Bobby's money already
provided for me. For another, I'd been lying low, literally and
figuratively, since joining the group. Winning the lottery would
call attention to me, which was the last thing I wanted. But...
I had a winning ticket in my hand. I couldn't just let it go to
waste.

Then I remembered. There was someone I owed. Someone who had
taken care of me when I needed it most. Someone who watched out
for a lot of people. Someone who had provided critical
information at the last second. If anyone deserved the ticket,
it was Bibbo. So, I made my way down to the harbor. I told him
I'd picked it up for him on a whim, as a thank-you. I'd just had
a good feeling about the numbers, and figured maybe his lucky
find on the information front deserved to be paid back. He took
it smilingly, clearly not thinking anything would come of it but
appreciating the gesture.

He was surprised by the win, and tried to split the money with
me. I told him I'd have none of it. It was his ticket. He tried
to press me, but I insisted. So he told me about his plans to
open up a restaurant and bar. A good, safe place for the
community with clean food and fair prices. Since it had come
from luck, he was going to name it after a card. The Ace O'
Clubs. I told him it sounded like a good idea, and that he'd
need all the money to make it work. Reluctantly, he agreed. He
thanked me. A lot. Then he left to go pursue his dreams. I went
back to the sewers, smiling at having done something right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #8
JUNE - OCTOBER, 1994
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Yeah, I know. That's a long span of time to cover in one entry.
It's not like it wasn't a busy time, either. Thing is, while a
lot happened, there isn't much I can specifically point to as
being worth writing about. If you know Superman's history (and,
if you're reading this, it's probably a safe assumption), you
probably think big things were happening just about every week.
But, you see, for the Shadows, things moved more slowly than
that. The sort of things we faced, they take a lot of planning.
Months. Maybe more. And, sure, we did other stuff, too, but do
you really want to read about the kids sitting around with Alan,
doing their homework (can't escape that, even in the sewers, it
seems)? Or all the little cases? The muggings and the petty
thieves and the purse snatchers? Oh, the purse snatchers. Dudley
loved messing with them. Sticking his invisible foot out and
tripping them up. And yeah, it was kind of funny sometimes to
see their reactions, but really... you had to be there.

So, what did happen? Well, Jack moved in with us. That was good.
It was nice to have someone else on the team with a less than
perfect record. Someone who'd grown up on the streets. Sure, he
was still a kid and he had a mouth on him, but, all things
considered, I liked having him around.

And that's something else. Things started to feel different. I
can't say how or when it happened, but I started to feel more
like I belonged. Partly it was that we had newer people. Eugene
and Cat were associates, but not really part of the group. Jack
was a full member, but also the newest. It made me feel like
less of an outsider. That was only part of it, though. The
bigger part was that we got used to each other. We were very
different people, but we lived together and worked together and
hung around together. We were a family. It had taken me a while
to accept it and to feel accepted, but there it was.

Speaking of changing relationships, Gina and I started spending
time together outside of the few minutes here and there when I
was picking up or dropping off her kids. We weren't dating or
anything like that, but we were taking time to be together. We
were... friends. It was a new thing for me. I mean, I'd had
friends before, but they were all jocks. It was different with
Gina. More... mature.

Then, there were the not-so-good changes. The bad guys. With
Lex's death, a lot of things went into chaos. His whole empire
crumbled. Bureau 39 quietly picked up a few pieces for itself.
So quietly that even we barely saw it. They were being careful,
and it felt good to us to at least be able to take credit for
that much. Still, it was frustrating. We didn't know where they
were or what they were up to. All we did know was that they'd
recruited some of Luthor's top scientists, including the guy
who'd cloned Superman. They'd also absorbed parts of the vast
criminal organization Luthor had built. It wasn't much, not
compared to what Intergang snapped up when they moved in, but it
was enough to change them. They grew, and branched out. And they
started calling themselves something new: Cadmus.

I guess I should mention a couple of other things that happened
during that time. One of them was pretty much a routine job.
Superman had stopped a villain with a sound weapon from... I
don't know. Taking over the world or something. As usual (and as
Wells had warned us), Superman had left the scene after he'd
turned the bad guy over to the cops. He assumed they'd take care
of the rest. For some reason, he didn't stop to wonder about
what could happen if the wrong people got their hands on the
deadly new machine. So, we took the liberty of claiming the
thing for ourselves. Phillip and Alan were very impressed with
its design, and quickly turned it into a force field projector
to help defend the Fortress in case of emergency. They also
started looking for ways we could use it in the field. That
would take longer, though, both because they needed to
understand it better and because they needed to find a way to
use it without damaging the invisibility suits.

The other thing that happened is, in a way, something I already
mentioned. Intergang moved in. They were a large criminal
organization, but it seemed that Luthor had been keeping them
out of Metropolis, which he'd claimed as his own territory. With
him gone, all bets were off. They tried to get a toehold in the
city by moving in on the South Side first. We'd been quietly
slowing their progress, but hadn't been able to do much more
than that. When it came down to it, they were a world-wide
organization and we were just a handful of people with a few
cameras and a couple of tricks.

One thing we did manage, though, was to help convince a cop to
step forward. He was one of the few good cops left in the area,
and he didn't like what he was seeing. Bobby helped nudge his
conscience in the right direction and promised that there would
be people who would look out for his family. Bobby also
suggested the names of a pair of reporters whom he thought were
trustworthy and effective. The cop, it turned out, had worked
with Lois a couple of times before. He gave her what information
he had, along with more that we'd gathered.

Around the same time, Intergang made a move against Superman.
They targeted the people near him with some kind of new "smart
bullets" they'd invented. They warned Superman that if he
interfered with their operations on the South Side, one of his
friends would die. We couldn't do anything about that, but Wells
had told us to trust that Superman would be able to take care of
this sort of thing himself. In the past, it had proven to be
true, for the most part. What we could do, though, was step up
our own activities in the South Side. If Superman wasn't going
to be able to help the people of that neighborhood, we'd do
everything we could for them.

Of course, Superman did find a way to pitch in. He disguised
himself as a cop and single-handedly stopped a gang from burning
down a restaurant. He may have also stepped in a few more times,
but it was hard to be sure. Still, there were plenty of bad guys
to go around, and we ended up doing a lot of good.

Ultimately, what made the biggest difference was the
information. Lois and Clark put it to good use in a series of
articles which got national attention. The situation in the
South Side turned around almost faster than it seemed possible.
Intergang went back underground, dirty cops cleaned up or got
kicked off the force, and the city government saw a lot of
changes, too.

I walked around the neighborhood, and I felt it for myself.
People who had been scared to leave their homes at night were
out walking freely. Gang graffiti was painted over or turned
into murals. Everything seemed cleaner and brighter. It was a
complete turnaround, and we had helped make it possible. We'd
made these people's lives better, safer. Not just a few people,
either. The whole South Side. We'd done some real good, and I
realized... I liked that feeling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #9
EARLY NOVEMBER, 1994
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I guess the next thing worth mentioning would be the
pheromones... No, wait. That was after. The gangsters were
first. This guy, Emil Hamilton, came up with a cloning
technology which allowed him to bring gangsters back from the
dead. He wanted to use them for some kind of experiments.
Thought he could tinker with their genes and surgically remove
the evil in them. Something like that. Anyway, we originally
thought that it wouldn't have much to do with us, since Lois and
Clark were clearly on the case. But then they ran into a dead
end and decided to call on Bobby. Luckily, we'd at least kept an
eye on the situation.

It was standard procedure for us to monitor Bobby's
conversations with Lois and Clark. He'd have reported it to us
anyway, but sometimes he needed a little extra info. So, we
listened in and relayed whatever he needed through the comlink.
Bobby's earpiece was specially designed to take Clark's
abilities into account. Not only was it invisible, but it
projected the sound in focused waves aimed directly at his ear
drum. If Clark could even hear it, it would seem far away to
him, and would hopefully be drowned out by the innumerable other
conversations taking place within his considerable earshot.

Even so, we'd had some close calls. Times when he'd seemed to
catch something, or when he stared directly at one of our
cameras. We held our breath whenever something like that
happened, but nothing ever really happened. He would shake his
head or shrug or blink or something, clearly dismissing whatever
he'd vaguely sensed. Gradually, he did it less and less often,
the little noises and tells of the equipment surrounding him
slowly being accepted as background noise.

This time, the meeting was in an ally. We were supposed to have
a camera in position, but it wasn't functioning right. Luckily,
we were prepared. Some time back, while Lois's Jeep had been in
the shop, we'd taken advantage of the opportunity to do a little
"custom work." Breaking in to the garage had been easy enough.
Once there, we'd installed a well-hidden access panel in one of
the back doors. We'd also planted a few bugs inside.

I should mention that we'd done the same in their apartments,
for emergency use only. When we'd broken into Lois's place, we
accidentally knocked the numbers off her front door. We made a
mistake replacing them (in our rush, we put them on backwards),
but somehow, she never noticed. It was amazing, really. Lois and
Clark, two of the best reporters in the world, were surrounded
by cameras (and little tell-tale mistakes) but they never seemed
to notice or realize that they had an audience beyond the people
who were visibly in the room with them. Odd folks.

We turned the Jeep cameras on shortly before Bobby was due to
arrive on the scene. We normally kept the bugs offline, to give
them privacy. We were there to help them and to protect them,
not to spy on their every move. Once Eugene was on board,
though, we did have him develop a program to quietly monitor the
input for indications of an emergency.

When the view came up on the monitors, we saw that Lois and
Clark were sitting in the front of the Jeep, keeping an eye out
for their informant. There was a large bag of take-out in
Clark's lap. "Mmm. That ravioli smells great," Lois said.

"Lois, it's for Bobby," Clark reminded her.

"Yeah, that's right, you sneak!" Karen said, shaking her finger
accusingly at the monitor. Lois and Clark, of course, couldn't
hear her, but it amused the kids to comment on the meetings.

"He won't know," Lois assured her partner.

"You wanna bet?" Dudley asked, smirking.

Clark gave Lois a look. "Oh yeah? Remember what happened that
time you picked some of the cheese off his pizza? He got all
pouty and wouldn't tell us anything..."

"Not that we knew much anyway, that time," Aymee put in
defensively.

Lois shook her head. "I still don't know how he knew that cheese
was missing. I was very careful not to disturb the pepperoni."

Karen stuck her tongue out. "Because Bobby has people looking
out for him! That's how!"

Just then, Clark's beeper went off. "That's the office. I better
call in," he said. He got out of the car, paused to wave an
admonishing finger when he noticed Lois eyeing the bag he'd left
on the seat, and went off to find a phone.

Lois watched him go, then made a grab for the ravioli.

"Bobby," Phillip called into the comlink, "I'm not sure if
you're in position yet, but Lois is going for your food again."

Immediately, Bobby sat up. "Hey!" He called out, indignant.

Lois gasped and nearly jumped out of her seat. "Bobby, how did
you get back there?"

"Trade secret," he replied.

"Oh, and she's hiding dessert," Phillip added.

"Trade secret, my butt!" Dudley said. "He used our secret door!
He's not supposed to do that! What if they saw him? Or what if
Clark decided to take a closer look?"

"We'll talk to him about it when he gets back," Aymee assured
him.

"We talked to him about it last time," Karen complained. "He
likes surprising them too much."

"What else can we do?" Aymee asked.

"Guys, quiet!" Phillip cut in. "I can't hear what's going on."

"... bring me?" Bobby was asking.

"A wide variety of culinary delights," Lois said almost
resentfully. "As usual."

Bobby shot her a look. "Do I detect an attitude here? Uh-huh.
Well, look. You know, I don't have to snitch for you anymore.
There's a reporter at the Star who is going to give me my own
chef if I start working for them."

"Yeah, right," Dudley remarked as Bobby started to chew a
handful of breadsticks. "In your dreams."

Luckily, Clark returned before Lois could respond. "That was
Jimmy," he told Lois. "You're not going to believe this. Al
Capone just paid Perry a visit."

"How many of these characters are out there?"

"I don't know, but Capone tried to bribe him. Apparently, the
mayor got the same offer." Clark turned to Bobby, who,
predictably, had his mouth full. "Bobby, what do you know about
all this? Who are these people?"

Bobby swallowed hastily. "Look," he said, licking his fingers
clean, "all I know is it's an experiment gone bad."

Clark turned back to Lois. "Hamilton really did it."

"And this regenerated Capone character?" Bobby continued. "Not a
real big fan of the no smoking laws."

"What else?" Lois asked expectantly.

"What else?" Bobby echoed, looking up from the sub he'd just
taken out. "What? For this? You didn't even bring me dessert.
Come on!" It wasn't just that we'd told him Lois was holding
back. It was a code phrase, telling us that he needed some
help.

Phillip had the file ready. He filled Bobby in while Clark
persuaded a reluctant Lois to retrieve the last bag.

"What is with him and food?" I asked. "I mean, I know Wells set
it up as a front, but how can he eat like that? Especially a
skinny guy like him?" I'd been wondering about it for some
time.

"Oh, you didn't know? Wells gave him some special pills from the
future," Aymee answered. "Doctor Sam Lane's Abs In A Bottle,"
she intoned. "It speeds up his metabolism, I think. He can eat
as much as he wants and never gain an ounce. He takes them
before he goes to see Lois and Clark. Makes him really hungry,
but keeps up the illusion."

"Whoa! Tortes," Bobby said when he got the information from
Phillip and the bag of dessert from Lois. "Way to go, girl. You
redeemed yourself."

"Now talk," Lois demanded.

"Look," Bobby said around a mouthful of pastry, "there's this
guy. He's got this illegal gaming club. Downtown, on Hobb
Street. His name is Georgie Hairdo. Capone's thugs have been
leaning on him pretty hard."

"What's Capone's interest in the club?" Clark asked.

"Aw, come on," Bobby responded as if it was perfectly obvious
(and as if he hadn't just been filled in on that very thing by
Phillip). "He wants a piece of the action, just like the old
days." Then he looked down, as if he'd forgotten something. "Oh,
anybody want this pickle?"

Lois grabbed it, obviously thrilled to get some food back from
the monster eating his way through the bag in the back seat.

Phillip, responding to the signal, confirmed that there was only
one piece of information left to give.

"Look," Bobby told them, "something's going down at the club
tonight. That's all I know. I gotta run." He started to leave,
but then turned back. "Oh, and by the way, next time bring me
something to drink, huh? And I don't mean none of that imported
water. Something American." Then, he let himself out (using the
correct door), and rushed away.

We closed down the cameras when Lois and Clark drove off a short
while later, trusting that they'd manage, as they always had.

The next day, we were shocked to hear that Clark had supposedly
been shot and killed. Still, we knew it wasn't our job to
interfere. Sure, things could have gone differently, in any
number of ways, but who knows what effect that would have had on
their future? Our job was to make sure history unfolded the way
it was supposed to -- especially when it came to Lois and Clark
-- not to stick our noses into their lives every time we thought
something was wrong.

We did, however, quietly help to cover up any questions people
may have had about Clark's supposed return from the dead. In
part, that meant talking to Hamilton and convincing him to go
along with the story. We ended up recruiting him as an
associate. Bobby helped set him up with a new lab in exchange
for his help with scientific problems when we needed it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #10
LATE NOVEMBER, 1994 TO
EARLY JANUARY, 1995
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't long after that when we got our next surprise. Clark's
powers were accidentally transferred to a man who looked
startlingly familiar. The details of the power transfer aren't
important. Things worked out, as usual. The impact it had on us
was the revelation that, by some unfathomable coincidence, the
man who got the powers -- the man who became known to the world
as "Resplendent Man" -- was, in fact, Alan's long-lost twin
brother.

Unfortunately, William Wallace Webster Waldecker (now there's a
mouthful of a name if I ever heard one) turned out to be very
different from his brother. He didn't have nearly Alan's genius,
nor his morals. We passed on recruiting him, but Bobby made sure
that he and his sister, Wandamae, were well taken care of. Alan
himself meant to meet them, but, perhaps not surprisingly, ended
up spending the time in his lab. Alan was a nice enough guy, but
he was no good with people.

That Christmas, we got our next clue to Cadmus's workings. A
disgruntled toymaker by the name of Winslow Schott had come up
with a substance which, when inhaled, caused people to act like
greedy children. Lois and Clark took care of Schott, but we
looked into the substance itself. It seemed to be more than
you'd expect from a man who'd spent his life working in a toy
factory, especially since it was able to affect Clark. It turned
out to have been developed from a pheromone spray which had been
created the year before. Luthor had gotten his hands on the
formula, and when Cadmus had absorbed the remnants of LexLabs,
they'd inherited it, too. They'd apparently been tinkering with
it, hoping to turn it to their own purposes. They'd found Schott
and sold a variant to him, using him as a dupe so they could
have a field test. We still weren't sure what Cadmus was
planning, but we made certain to collect a sample of Schott's
spray for Hamilton to analyze.

Then, shortly after New Year's, something happened which was of
interest to me. A robot appeared on the scene. He was home built
by two brothers, Rollie and Emmett Vale. Rollie, one of the few
LexLabs scientists who hadn't gone over to Cadmus, had somehow
gotten his hands on a chunk of Kryptonite, without ever knowing
what it was. Superman eventually managed to disable the robot,
and Rollie, though we didn't know it at the time, took the
Kryptonite back. We made sure Vale was caught and sent to
prison, then salvaged the body of the robot. There'd been a
human brain inside the thing, but it was long dead by the time
we got to it. There was nothing we could do for him, but the
robotic body gave Alan and Hamilton some new ideas for me.

Not long after that, we found out what Cadmus had been up to
with the modified pheromones. It took us a little while to catch
on to it, but we noticed that everyone around Clark was acting
pretty strangely. The men, even the reasonable and intelligent
ones, started to act more aggressively. They reverted to
chauvinism, too. The women, for their part, became overly
defensive and sensitive. Crazy things started to happen and no
one was acting like themselves. Meantime, there was some kind of
ninja going around stealing things. We trusted that Superman
would deal with the ninja, but we were concerned about the way
everyone was acting.

To make a long story short, it turned out that Cadmus had
sprayed Superman with a new pheromone variant. We're not sure
when, exactly. Probably during a disaster they set up. A fire or
something. It not only changed his behavior, but also that of
everyone around him. Some of them even seemed to develop
hallucinations. The plan, it seemed, was to ruin Superman's
reputation by changing his behavior. They might have also
planned to blame him for affecting the people he associated
with. Fortunately, we'll never know. Hamilton, having already
analyzed Schott's version, was familiar with the basic formula.
He was quickly able to make up an antidote. Thanks to the secret
door in Lois's Jeep, we were able to administer it to Clark
without his noticing.

The ninja turned out to be a woman named Lin Chow, who, watching
her father, had secretly learned some very advanced martial
arts. With her skills augmented by a pair of magical bracelets,
she was a formidable fighter. We were quick to talk to her. She
graciously declined our offer of membership, explaining that she
needed to stay with her family and look out for the people of
her neighborhood. She did, however, agree to help us when needed
and to train me and the kids.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #11
EARLY FEBRUARY, 1995
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

February... February... Oh, I've got a little story for you. I
mean, it's nothing big. Kind of a "day in the life" thing, but
maybe it's worth putting a few bits like that in. I was sitting
in the living room one day when Bobby suddenly activated his
comlink. "If it ain't the two lovebirds," he said. Aymee, at the
monitors, nearly jumped out of her chair. Quickly, she looked up
Bobby's location and activated the camera nearest him. Luckily,
we'd thought to put a few here and there on the properties Bobby
owned. He was working in the kitchen of one of his restaurants,
it seemed. Upon seeing Lois and Clark, he'd instantly put on his
act, dropping his manners and "sampling" food left and right. It
was a good thing he owned the place, and a better thing that the
food he was "working on" would never be put in front of actual
customers. Bobby had warned the staff in case of just such an
occasion.

"Did you tell him?" Lois demanded of Clark, in response to
Bobby's question. We'd known about their date of course, but
they'd been trying to keep it quiet.

Bobby assured them that he'd gotten the information from Clark's
ticket broker. "He's a barracuda in the business, but a romantic
at heart." He paused to "sample" another dish, then started
talking again before they could respond. "So, you two excited?"

"Bobby," Clark said, "we didn't come here to talk about --"

Bobby cut him off. "I want you to know how happy I am for you,
and that there are a lot of people out there who are really
pulling for this to work out."

"What's he thinking?" Dudley demanded, coming into the room. "He
can't tell them about us!"

"He's stalling," I told him. "They surprised him, and Aymee is
still going through the database."

"What people?" Lois asked suspiciously.

"Couldn't he have found a better way to stall?"

"Give him a break, Dudley," I said. "He had to think on his
feet. You sure you could have come up with better on such short
notice?"

"What?" Bobby asked, responding to Lois. "You think it's a big
secret that Clark here has been mooning over you?"

"I wouldn't say 'mooning,' exactly," Clark said defensively.

"Yeah? What would you call it, Clark?" Aymee said, chuckling.
Then she activated her side of the comlink. The rest of us
quieted down, so as not to provide too much extra noise or
distraction. Bobby had enough to do, and every excess sound was
another thing Clark might pick up. "Okay, Bobby. I've gone
through the database. Reviewing recent newsroom recordings, it
looks like they need to know about someone by the name of Ramin
Tarbush. He was part of some kidnapping plan. We don't have an
address for him. Looks like he lives out on the streets. But he
goes regularly to the Union Street shelter for dinner."

"I love being in love," Bobby was saying. "I mean, there's no
feeling like it in the whole world." He paused to take a big
bite off another plate. "Except, maybe, a really full stomach...
And I love the fact that we are pushing Pigs in a Blanket." He
was babbling a bit, but it was hard to blame him considering
that he was talking while getting vital information through a
hidden earpiece.

He relayed the information to Lois and Clark, then took a swig
out of a newly-opened quart of milk. "What happened to my
manners?" he asked when he noticed their stares. He wiped the
mouth of the bottle with his hand and made to pass it over to
them. "Anybody thirsty?" Lois and Clark were quick to leave
after that, and Bobby was happy to restore order to the
kitchen.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #12
MID FEBRUARY, 1995
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If the last entry was routine business (even if it did later
turn out to have involved Rollie Vale, Kryptonite, and the
return of Lex Luthor from the dead), the events of this one were
anything but.

It started out simply enough. Top Copy's Diana Stride came into
town, looking to do a story on Superman. She put a radioactive
tracer on him, which he easily eluded. Clearly, she was a "Lois
and Clark" problem, so we stepped back and just kept an eye on
things. Then we found out that she was a retired Intergang
assassin, and that they were reactivating her. She was supposed
to take out a snitch who was due to testify about Intergang,
ruining some of their major operations. That made the situation
a little more complicated. We wondered if we should get word to
Lois and Clark.

That situation was resolved, though, when she struck at her
target while Lois and Clark were in the area. Clark rescued the
target and Lois found Diana's lucky necklace. The witness was
sent to the hospital, but he was expected to recover. So, it
looked like Lois and Clark would be able to handle things on
their own, as usual.

Then Cadmus stepped in. They hired her to kill Superman, a job
she was glad to take after he'd foiled her first strike.
Cadmus's involvement made her our problem. Except that she was
also a "Lois and Clark" problem, which meant that we weren't
supposed to interfere.

Diana got Kryptonite through Intergang, but then Cadmus
contacted her, saying they could do a better job with it. We
didn't know what to do, or even what she was planning. The whole
thing was a mess.

Of course, that's when Wells suddenly showed up to make things
even more tricky. It seemed Diana was going to expose Clark's
secret identity, which would throw off history entirely.

Cadmus used their experience in formulating liquid Kryptonite to
put the small sample Diana had obtained into a more deadly form.
She'd already had Intergang grind it into a paste, but Cadmus
found ways to enhance its effects. When applied to Superman's
skin, it would penetrate into his bloodstream, circulating
through his body and poisoning him. Cadmus also gave her plans
and frequencies for a better tracker, which she passed on to
Intergang. The new tracker would use the enhanced Kryptonite
itself as the radioactive tag.

She used it before we could find a way to stop her. But Lois
came up with a way to burn it out of his system. For some odd
reason, she thought Kryptonite poisoning could be treated like
cancer, with radiation. That was, of course, completely
off-base, but Clark was too sick to realize it. So, he walked
into the reactor chamber of the local nuclear power plant. Which
seemed incredibly stupid, even to me.

We were all stunned when it worked, but we later figured it out.
The intense radiation of the reactor had torn through his body.
His powers, in part fed by the radiation itself (some of which
was similar to solar radiation), had healed him. The Kryptonite,
however, had been ripped apart, broken down into more harmless
substances. Then, when he'd walked back out of the reactor, his
aura had somehow absorbed the excess radiation, allowing him to
safely move around without irradiating everyone around him.

That, however, still left the problem of the exposed identity.

Wells ended up taking care of that himself, although he "bent"
some rules doing it. "I, er... Went back in time," he
explained.

"You did?" I asked. "But nothing seems different."

"Ah, yes," Wells replied, unconcerned. "It wouldn't. Yet. Rather
than preventing the story from ever airing, I made it possible
for Clark to cast it into doubt."

"How'd you swing that?"

"Well, you see, I secretly replaced Martha Kent's regular art
teacher with... *ahem*"

"Folger's Crystals?" Inez piped up brightly.

"Er... no." Wells fidgeted some more, clearly having trouble
making the admission. "With... a man from the future."

"Uh-huh," I said, not quite sure what to make of it.

"Yes. He's... sort of a policeman, if you will."

I frowned, confused. "And what is a policeman from the future
supposed to do, posing as Martha Kent's art teacher?"

Wells beamed, clearly proud of himself. "He's going to introduce
her to a new form of sculpture -- advanced holography. She will
then be able to use that holographic equipment to create a
realistic image of Superman which can appear next to Clark."

"I see. So you got someone from the future to bring advanced
equipment back in time and teach Martha Kent how to use it."

"That's right," he replied happily.

"And that's not interfering with history?"

He hesitated for a moment, but then rallied. "Uhm... Of course
not. It's setting things back on the right track."

"And you had no trouble convincing this policeman to go along
with it?"

"Of course not. I've worked with the Peacekeepers from the very
beginnings of their organization!"

"I thought you first encountered them after you decided to take
Tempus home as a souvenir," Dudley commented, joining the
conversation.

"In my personal timeline, yes. But in their history, I've been
there from the start."

"The wonders of time travel," Phillip said, shaking his head.

"Exactly!" Wells replied, grinning.

We all took a moment to digest it.

"Incidentally," Wells said, breaking the silence, "I don't know
if I should be asking this, but curiosity has gotten the better
of me. Do any of you happen to know anyone who goes by the name
'Hawk Master'?"

We looked around, confused, before agreeing that none of us had
ever heard of anyone who used a name anything like that. Wells
was reluctant to tell us more, but eventually admitted that he'd
been browsing the Peacekeeper's archives, looking for
information about us. According to history, a mysterious new
recruit by the name of "Hawk Master" would one day help us
complete our most critical mission. No one, it seemed, knew
anything more than that.

We assured Wells that we couldn't satisfy his curiosity.
Embarrassed at having revealed as much as he had, he left soon
after. We shook our heads and got back to work.

Except... between Lois, Superman, and Wells, the entire mess had
cleaned itself up without our having to do anything. Diana
Stride had been captured, the witness was safe, Clark had
recovered from the Kryptonite, and Wells had provided him with
the means to protect his identity. It had been a confusing and
worrying time, but everything had worked out, more or less. I
almost wished that all our cases could go like that. Almost.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #13
LATE FEBRUARY, 1995
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We spent the next few weeks cleaning up after the Diana Stride
case. Looking for the lab that had made the enhanced formula
lipstick, trying to find out where the Kryptonite had come from,
and working to find Cadmus's new headquarters. So, when Kyle
Griffin broke out of jail, we were less than concerned. With
everything we were doing, some guy pulling pranks hardly seemed
like a priority.

We'd already disposed of the lipstick itself, shortly after
Diana's arrest. Tracking down the lab wasn't too bad, since we'd
already had some clues from watching Diana. With Jack and Lin to
help us, breaking in was almost easy. We copied what information
we could from their computers, then destroyed everything,
starting with the physical notes on Kryptonite.

Eugene cracked the encryption on the copied data for us. Sifting
through it, we got some information about Cadmus HQ, but nothing
on where the Kryptonite had come from. That wasn't too
surprising, since Intergang had been the ones to obtain it, but,
knowing that Cadmus had managed to get Kryptonite before, we'd
been hoping to find something.

We'd hit a dead end when Cat called to tell us about a black
market auction. It was a semi-regular thing, it seemed, where
dangerous and exclusive items could be obtained. The organizers
would only accept bidders and sellers known to them. Cat had
heard about it through one of the military contacts she'd
managed to cultivate in DC. Colonel Cash had been looking into
it because he saw Superman as a potential threat.

He wasn't like Trask. He didn't think Superman was a spy or part
of some conspiracy. He was, however, very concerned about the
power Superman had, and what might happen if it got out of
control. He wanted to be ready for the worst. So, he'd been
keeping an ear out for anything -- legal or otherwise -- that
could possibly be of use. He'd found the auction, but had been
unable to get in. It especially frustrated him because this
time, there was a chunk of Kryptonite going up for sale.

We were discussing possible plans when Bobby activated his
comlink. Lois had called him, looking for information on the
Prankster. We had nothing, and told him so. Jack volunteered to
look into it while the rest of us continued on our various
projects.

When Lois found out that Bobby had come to their meeting
empty-handed, she tried to reclaim his pay. She actually grabbed
the sandwich out of his hands. After a struggle, Bobby managed
to get it back, telling her to consider it as feeding him "on
spec." I'm not sure what happened during the rest of the
meeting, except that I heard Bobby mention to Lois that Hamilton
had a new lab. I wasn't really paying too much attention to the
monitors. Watching Lois and Clark was entertaining, but
sometimes there are more important things in life.

I went to the auction with a briefcase full of Bobby's money.
The guards, of course, stopped me. I told them truthfully that I
was representing a bidder who wished to remain anonymous.
Predictably, they weren't happy with that answer. All three of
them moved in on me. I grabbed one with my right hand and slowly
but easily lifted him over my head. That gave them pause. I
gently lowered the guard back to the ground, then stepped back.

"How did you do that?" he asked.

I opened one of the panels on my arm, giving him a brief glance
at the mechanical workings inside. "You ever heard of Rollie
Vale?"

"Ain't he the guy who got busted out of the joint a coupla weeks
back?" the second one asked.

"Yeah," said the one next to him, "but what's that gotta do with
anything?"

The guard I'd lifted put a hand to his shirt, where I'd grabbed
him. "He was in there because he built some kind of robot,
wasn't he?"

"I heard he built himself a robot arm, too."

The first one looked suspiciously at my briefcase. "But he had
to do it out of spare parts because he didn't have money for
better."

"You guys know who busted him out?" the third guard asked,
rejoining the conversation.

"It was Luthor, wa'innit?"

"Luthor's in jail now."

"So? He's still *Luthor*."

They looked at each other, then back at me. I said nothing.

"Okay, g'wan in."

"Thank you."

The auction room was sparsely decorated. There was little more
than a few rows of chairs facing a podium. The room, though, was
filled with a who's who of the criminal community. I recognized
agents of Cadmus and Intergang among others, and was very glad
that I knew them from having seen them on the monitors rather
than in person. There was also a couple who seemed out of place.
We later identified them as Tim and Amber Lake, who were known
to enjoy collecting unusual items. They'd already snatched up a
good deal of Lex Luthor's personal collection. We assumed they
wanted the Kryptonite purely for its rarity.

Between Cadmus, Intergang, and the Lakes, the bidding quickly
escalated past what I had. I sighed. I hadn't really expected
that it would be that easy, but I'd been hoping. I took out a
device Alan and Hamilton had designed, based on the sonic
technology we'd picked up a few months previously. The thing
looked like an ordinary cell phone (and we were fortunate that
cell phones were so big back then), but it was capable of much
more.

I pointed the "antenna" at the Kryptonite on the auction block
and pressed a button. The Kryptonite shook a little, but that
was about it. Alan had warned me that the frequency might not be
exact. I didn't understand it all, but he and Hamilton had made
some guesses based on the research we'd stolen from Cadmus.
There was a range of possible frequencies, and to make it easier
on me, they'd set the device to start at the low end. I moved a
dial with my thumb, slowly moving along the range. The
Kryptonite started to hum. I nudged the dial a little further.
The crystal shattered. Tiny shards exploded outward from the
podium, and glittered as they fell to the floor in an emerald
cloud. (Heh. I'm getting poetic in my old age.)

The sound of gasps and curses filled the room. People started
looking around wildly, trying to figure out what had happened.
Then, suddenly, there were sirens. The crowd panicked. I ran
with them out the back door. Everyone scattered. I waited until
I was safely underground, then signaled Phillip to let him know
he could shut the speakers off. The sirens trailed off, as if
moving away. We'd considered actually calling the police, but
realized that we wouldn't be able to rely on their timing and
that, even if they caught anyone at the auction, they'd have no
proof of any criminal activity.

So, we'd taken a piece of Kryptonite out of the picture, found
some new faces to keep an eye on, and were in a better position
to find other auctions in the future. We'd also given the people
who'd organized and attended the auction something to be nervous
about. We wouldn't be able to pull the same trick again, but
still... Not a bad night's work.

Back at the Fortress, I learned that Jack had found the
Prankster. Using skills he'd learned from Jimmy, he had learned
that Griffin's childhood home had been condemned and abandoned.
It wasn't hard to check and find out that he actually had
returned to use it as his new base. Bobby passed the information
along the next morning, and Griffin was captured that afternoon.
We collected the device he'd been using to cause temporary
paralysis. Hamilton, working for Lois and Clark, had already
come up with a set of contact lenses which would block the
device's effects. Lois and Clark had even been good enough to
test them for us. We weren't sure what we'd do with it, but we
knew it would be useful some day.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #14
MARCH - SEPTEMBER, 1995
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the year was pretty much more of the same. We picked
up another recruit, or at least set the foundations to do so.
Sarah Goodwin was a psychology student who, along with Jimmy
Olsen and several others, had been the subject of a military
experiment. Lois and Clark took care of that situation, but we
realized she could be useful to us. We quietly encouraged her to
pursue criminal psychology. Years later, with proper training
and some experience, she joined up, providing analysis and
insights.

There was also a case with a mind-altering drug Intergang had
developed, but, for once, someone else cleaned up the mess. We
did look into the case, since Lois had asked Bobby to check it
out. Cat, looking into the Washington end of things, came across
the cover story of the DEA agent in charge of the case. Not
knowing any better, she told us that he was an FDA official. We
knew better, but only because we'd seen him with Lois and Clark.
We talked about it, and decided that Bobby should alert Lois to
the cover story without letting on that he knew any better. So,
he told her only that he'd heard Agent Scardino was with the
FDA. Lois put the rest together on her own.

The DEA, led by Scardino, did manage to take care of the drug.
They arrested those who were directly responsible and took their
research. Unfortunately, they weren't able to get to Intergang,
the organization behind the company which had developed the
drug.

In the meantime, Cadmus had been up to something new. They armed
one of their more attractive agents with pheromones and sent her
to become Bill Church's nurse. Soon, he was hopelessly in love
with her, and she pretended to return his feelings. She
convinced him to go straight. Presumably having gotten the idea
from vague glimpses of the Shadows, she even encouraged him to
turn Intergang's criminal network into "The Church Group," a
vigilante peacekeeping force.

It did confuse us when someone in the organization hired an
explosives expert, but we couldn't connect that to anything else
that was happening. Fortunately, Lois called Bobby about it, so
we knew that side of things would get taken care of. Still... we
weren't sure what was going on in the bigger picture. It seemed
like Cadmus was trying to shut down Intergang in order to get
rid of the competition. We weren't about to object. We learned
too late that we'd been wrong. Mindy wasn't there to shut
Intergang down. She was there to take it over.

With Cadmus's help, she neatly managed to get both Bill and his
son arrested, then convinced Intergang's board to accept her as
their new leader. She quietly toned down their criminal
activities, and began directing them more and more towards
Cadmus's original goal -- getting rid of Superman.

In the aftermath of that, we realized that some of the Church
Group members were genuinely good people with useful skills.
Most of them had been nothing more than mercenaries, of course,
but some had joined up because they wanted to make a difference.
We carefully screened them, and secretly hired a handful to keep
up the work.

We agreed that it wouldn't be right to keep using the name "The
Church Group," but we weren't sure what else to call them. Alan
came up with "The Baker Street Irregulars." He said it wasn't
quite right, but that he liked it anyway. None of us had
anything better, so we agreed. I took to calling them "The
Bakers" for short, and that caught on.

The Bakers were kept completely separate from the Shadows, but
it was still good to have a few extra hands doing the work. We
even passed them a few assignments here and there (through their
mysterious employer), mostly when we found ourselves tied up
with something else.

Things were happening in my personal life, too. Gina and I had
started casually dating that winter. Gradually, things had begun
to get more serious between us. Then I watched Clark propose to
Lois. He hadn't told her about Superman. As everyone knows by
now, she figured it out for herself. That lack of trust really
hurt their relationship. I thought about that. Then I talked to
the group. A few nights later, instead of bringing Aymee and
Inez to Gina, I brought Gina down to the Fortress.

We had a long talk. It wasn't easy for any of us. I had to risk
losing Gina. Aymee and Inez had to sit through their mother's
reaction to finding out what they'd really been up to. Gina, of
course, had the worst of it. She had to deal with the shock of
learning about her kids, about me, and about the group as a
whole. She didn't take the time travel aspect of it any better
than I had. Understandably, she wasn't too happy about her kids
had been exposed to.

When she started to get used to the idea, however, she was very
proud of what they'd helped accomplish. Seeing that they had a
home and people who cared about them helped, too. So did knowing
that they'd been kept safe for well over a year. Knowing that
her kids had helped save Superman's life certainly didn't hurt,
either.

She left that night, needing to get the kids to bed, saying that
she wanted some time to digest everything. Given our crazy
world, it was only reasonable. We knew, though, that we could
trust her not to tell anyone. She had a good heart, and more,
her own kids were involved. Letting the word out would only put
them in danger, which was the last thing she wanted to do.

Aymee and Inez weren't allowed down the next day. We were
disappointed, but not surprised. Bobby offered to get a regular
babysitter to keep an eye on them, but Gina preferred to find
her own.

I didn't see much of Gina for a while after that. I was tempted
to keep an eye on her with the cameras, just to see her, to make
sure she was okay, but I knew it was wrong. So, I did the
hardest thing I've ever done. I waited.

To keep busy, I threw myself into the work. It was just as well,
since it was about that time that Lois and Clark went on
vacation to some exclusive island resort. That meant no
Superman, especially since Lois made Clark agree to just be
"ordinary" while they were gone. That left a lot more for us to
do. He wasn't gone long enough for anyone to notice, but every
situation he wasn't there to handle was one more for us to try
to take on.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #15
OCTOBER, 1995
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost a week before Gina came back down with the kids.
When she did, it made up for everything. Aymee and Inez rushed
around, greeting everyone happily. After celebrating their
reunion with the group, they rushed over to the lab. Apparently,
they'd missed being invisible as much as anything. I have to
admit, I barely noticed them. My eyes were only for Gina. (Come
to think, that's not really saying too much, considering how
quick her kids were to become invisible again. Still, you know
what I mean.)

She stood there, shyly, waiting at the door to the Fortress.

I walked up to her. I paused, realizing I had no idea what to do
next. "Hi," I said with a nervous smile on my face.

"Hi," she said, smiling back. That was a good sign.

I fidgeted awkwardly. Idly, I wondered if this was how Wells
felt all the time. "I missed you," a voice said. After a moment,
I realized the voice had been mine.

"I missed you, too."

The next thing I knew, she was in my arms. Looking back on
things, it seems like a scene I've watched a hundred times in
movies and TV shows. Living it, though, it just felt *right*.

We talked, later. And hugged some more, of course. As much as we
felt comfortable in front of the kids. When she left that night,
I knew things were going to be okay.

After that, I started to keep my eyes out for something. Bobby
would have helped me, I'm sure, but I wanted to do it myself. A
couple of weeks later, it came to me. Lois and Clark had gotten
tangled up with this guy. He was trying to claim the power of
the ancient druids for his own purposes. Another nutcase looking
to take over the world. Clark stopped him, of course, but left
us to clean up. It wasn't too bad that time, but we did end up
with a few shards from a cracked emerald. One which experience
had shown me was genuinely magical. (Yes, I know. I had a hard
time with magic, too, but if you can accept a flying alien and a
time travelling writer, magic isn't so bad.)

We returned the larger pieces of the emeralds to their rightful
places, of course, but didn't want to risk them becoming whole
again. So we kept a few of the shards. I was worried that they
might be evil, or at least bad luck, but Phillip assured me that
the druids hadn't been nearly as evil as their reputation had
suggested. Clearly, Patrick had been, but the ancient druids
had, Phillip explained, suffered a fate common to the priests of
conquered people. The victors had demonized them, telling
stories of horrors and atrocities, in an effort to stamp out the
last of their religion. The real druids had been protectors.
They'd also been keepers of knowledge (sometimes secret), which
they'd used for the good of their people. That sounded apt to
me.

I took a shard to Alan, and had him mount it on a piece of metal
from my right arm -- a gear which had been due for replacement,
but more importantly, a true part of myself. Alan smoothed out
the gear and secured the stone. I hadn't done it all myself, but
it felt better than just taking money from the boss.

I presented the ring to Gina a few days later. She cried a
little when she saw it, which only made my nervousness worse.
Then she said the most important thing she's ever told me.
"Yes."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #16
NOVEMBER - DECEMBER, 1995
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We decided to have an engagement period a few months long. We
didn't need time to plan a big wedding, but we did need to get
some things settled first.

As it turned out, the one we were most worried about was the
easiest. Aymee and Inez were thrilled by the news. Inez even
asked us what had taken so long.

Other matters turned out to be trickier. Where we were going to
live, for one. Gina, understandably, didn't want to move down to
the sewers, but I wasn't too sure about moving away from the
group and the Fortress. Gina pointed out that the "commute"
wouldn't be too bad, and I did have a comlink in case of
emergency. I'd still take a night watch every once in a while,
too.

After that, we had to find someone to perform the ceremony.
Someone who wouldn't ask too many questions of me. Someone we
liked and could trust. That was tougher than we expected. Then I
remembered something. Bibbo had used some of the lottery money
to buy a ship for himself. Having spent so much time on or near
the water, it was only natural. I figured that made him a
captain. If we went out to sea with him, he could marry us. We
didn't really have that many people to invite -- neither of us
had many friends, or much in the way of family -- and getting
married out on the water sounded pretty good.

I mentioned it to Bibbo, but he explained that the whole
"captains can perform legal marriages" thing was a myth. I was
disappointed until he told me that he might be able to do it
anyway. A friend of his in a similar situation had gotten a
special temporary license from the city, allowing him to perform
a wedding on a specific day. Bibbo said he'd look into doing the
same.

In the meantime, the Shadows had a few things to clean up. We
took down a machine capable of generating storms and gave it to
Hamilton to play with. Eventually, he used them to create the
prototype stations for the global weather control system we have
today. That took years, though. It was a much better use than
its original designer had intended, or than Cadmus would no
doubt have put it to.

A few weeks later, Lex Luthor's son showed up out of nowhere. He
ended up nowhere, too. Somehow, he got trapped inside a computer
and then set loose on the budding network known as the Internet.
(You know, it sounds strange to write it, but at the time, it
seemed almost run-of-the-mill. With all the things we saw back
in those days, I don't think anything could have seemed odd or
far-fetched.) Jaxon (or, as he preferred to be known, X) had
even worked his way into the Daily Planet systems. Eugene,
working with Phillip, had to work overtime on that one, but they
finally managed to trap "X" in a simulation. Then, just to be
safe, they'd isolated that computer, making sure it would never
communicate with any other devices. Unplugging it would have
been tantamount to murder, so they left it running in a quiet
little corner.

Then we found out what the Lakes had been up to, but luckily
Lois and Clark took care of that one for themselves. We had been
working on it, but Clark, not surprisingly, was faster than we
were.

Let me see... what was next? Oh, right. The thing with Clark's
ship. Cadmus came up with this idea that they could use germs
from Clark's ship to infect him. They gave the ship to Mindy so
she could have Intergang's labs do the work. Phillip thought
they were wasting their time. Between the cold of space and the
heat of going through the atmosphere, nothing should have
survived on the outside of the ship. Clark would, most likely,
have been exposed to anything on the inside, either as a baby or
when he'd encountered the ship in Bureau 39's warehouse.

Unfortunately, Phillip had missed two important things. First,
the germs had left DNA (or whatever the Kryptonian equivalent of
DNA is) on the ship, and Mindy was able to find someone who
could work with that. Second, the things were Kryptonian, and
they'd responded to yellow sunlight just as well as Clark.

Fortunately, it turned out fine. Lois's father, called in on the
case, had done the perfect thing. He'd used Kryptonite. His
theory was to take Clark to the brink of death, so as to starve
the germs. Whether it was because of that or the germs
themselves being even more vulnerable to Kryptonite than Clark
(being smaller and weaker creatures than a full-sized person),
it worked.

Even so, we knew we had to prevent it from happening again. We
needed to get the ship back. We knew that was going to be hard
to pull off. The ship was large, and closely guarded. Worse,
Cadmus had recruited Dr. Henry Leit about a year previously.
Leit was a brilliant scientist who specialized in light. He'd
managed to temporarily blind Superman. Setting up UV sensors to
look around for any invisible people or objects was a simple
matter for him. With his help, Cadmus had already gotten most of
the cameras and bugs we'd set up to keep track of them (luckily,
they hadn't been too concerned with finding our other ones
around the city). We'd switched to more long-range (and somewhat
less reliable) techniques for surveillance, but breaking in was
another matter.

We thought of calling Clark (eventually), but realized he was
still recovering from his ordeal. So, to do the job, we called
in Lin Chow. She had the skills and experience to break into the
facility, and her magical bracelets gave her superhuman strength
and abilities. I went along to help, armed with a sonic stunner,
another useful little thing Alan and Hamilton had developed from
the Wall of Sound technology. I had one based on the Prankster's
equipment, too, but the flash of light it made was too
noticeable for most situations.

Lin went in first, stealthily. Ten minutes later, she appeared
behind me, tapped me on the shoulder (almost making me jump out
of my skin), and waved me in. She'd taken care of the guards and
the cameras.

Even with the local security taken care of, we knew that we
wouldn't have long before reinforcements showed up. We worked
quickly. I was just able to lift the ship. Barely. If not for
the enhancements Alan had made over the years, I wouldn't have
been able to do it. Lin moved in and rapidly but smoothly and
slid a dolly underneath it. We hurried out the door. We'd gotten
around the corner and a little ways down a nearby alley when Lin
stopped me. She signaled that she'd heard something from around
the corner. Reinforcements had arrived. We hid in the darkness.

The troops, wearing goggles capable of detecting infrared and
ultraviolet light, spread out to check the building and the
surrounding area. One pair, working together, came down the
street towards me, looking intently at every possible hiding
place. I held my breath and readied my stunner. They came
closer. Closer still. In another moment or two, they would be
sure to spot me. I took careful aim, hoping that I'd be able to
get them both before either one had a chance to report back to
the others.

One of them fell to the ground, crumpling quietly into an
immobile heap. At one point, I would have frozen, startled. By
then, however, I'd had enough experience to know better. Not
questioning my luck, I aimed and took out the other one. He fell
next to his partner. Lin (whom I could have sworn had never left
my side) stepped out of the shadows and over the two stunned
bodies.

We'd bought ourselves a little more time. With any luck, we'd
have at least a few minutes before the others noticed that a
pair of soldiers hadn't checked in. That was good, but our
options were limited. I couldn't move the ship without the
dolly, but its wheels were too loud. The noise would bring the
rest of the troops down on us in moments. A distraction might
help, but I didn't want to risk leaving the ship.

A gunshot echoed through the streets. It sounded like it had
come from a few blocks away, on the far side of the warehouse.
"That should get you guys a little extra time," Phillip
whispered into my comlink. "Now *move*!"

Lin tapped her ear. Phillip had spoken to her, too. She moved to
the front of the ship, moved her arms through a series of
flowing gestures which suggested she was preparing herself for
something, put her hands under the nose of the ship, then looked
up to me. I raised my eyebrows, but the meaning was clear. I
went to the back of the ship, got a grip, and looked back at
her. She nodded once. Together, we lifted the ship clear of the
dolly.

It was a difficult load for me, and must have been for Lin, too,
but somehow she managed to move gracefully. Luckily, we didn't
have too far to go. Just down the alley was an open manhole
cover. Carefully, we set the ship down beside it. There was no
way the hole was big enough to fit the ship, of course, but that
wasn't the plan. I reached down inside to get a heavy and
cumbersome case we'd stashed below. Carrying it with us would
have been too much of a hindrance, and we wouldn't have had
enough time to set up the contents anyway. The kids could
perhaps have helped, but the mission was too risky for them.

Together, Lin and I unpacked several interconnected bits of
equipment from the case and attached them to the bottom of the
ship, underneath its rounded hull. Crossing my fingers for luck,
I pressed a button. The ship rose, smoothly and quietly, lofted
by a force field made of controlled sound waves. It had become a
stealthy hovercraft.

Suddenly, Phillip was speaking into my ear again. "Guys, I
didn't want to interrupt you while you were wo