Tonnage

Ugh. Men.

>>

Clark Kent isn't a happy man right now. So many things wrong with this situation and so little he can do about it. It's maddening. Walking into his home he shares with his wife, he finds her at her desk just off the living room.

“Hey, Lois.”

The brunette spins around, confusion on her face. “That was quick, what happened?” She looks closer at her husband. “Somebody kick a puppy in front of you, Smallville?”

He gives her a wry look. “Basically, yeah. Or maybe, they pointed out to me a puppy that had been being kicked for a while and I ignored it.”

Lois shrugs. “Tom?” At his nod, she spins back around. “I'm sure he'll find a sweetheart. Some chicks are into that, and honestly, if I didn't have you? Well, you know I like power. A bit young though.”

She then tilts her head so whatever expression is on his face can be immortalized for all time via her web interview setup. Cameras like you wouldn't believe. She laughs out loud at what the camera shows, and Clark goes beet red when he realizes he's been had.

“Thanks, Lois. Nice.”

She stops her chuckles after a moment and sighs at the begrudged look she's getting. “For what it's worth it wasn't actually untrue, though you needn't be worried. But what I was getting at is that if your concern is his romantic interests, I wouldn't worry. There will always be women willing to put aside societal norms to marry kind, and if his interviews are anything to go by screamingly intelligent brutes that can go UFC against industrial vehicles and win. It's just the way it is.” *

Clark is holding his head at this point as if trying to fight a migraine. “Please stop. That isn't the problem. The issue is that he's a kid from Crime Alley. He lost his parents in that Scarecrow thing a couple of years ago. His school effectively kicked him out, and so now he's looking at trying to start his senior year from a tent in a scrapyard on an internet connection that I am guessing is based more on hope than reality in bad weather. I flew by to get a look, and it's not... filthy. I mean, it's obvious they are really trying. But the things that have been in that place, it's just this side of a toxic waste dump. It can't be a healthy place to live. All that might not be bad enough, though I'll argue strenuously against any attempt to depict it like that. But on top of that, he's a meta. I'm not talking about romantic interests.” He throws that in at her look. “I'm saying that the fact he is this... This immovable force, maybe? In the Gotham scene has really started causing problems. To the point that the uncle that has been his lifeline for the last couple of years is planning to leave soon for fear of further gas attacks.”

He sighs. “But, that's not all. He's so far saved a few billion dollars worth of Bruce's stuff that was getting transferred between vaults. Then the gala, which I know you covered.” He takes a deep and obvious steadying deep breath. “Now I find out that just last night, some damn trap from that Penguin character almost killed two of his kids. Tom had to dive down forty feet, search around for them, and then lift, based on what I saw? Something on the order of seven tons. While driving off 'Killer Croc.”

He pauses. Lois is getting annoyed as she waits for him to admit the problem.

“Honestly, we're all really starting to feel bad about his situation and living conditions. It just tears us up, but what can we do?”

Lois is giving her man, her love, the one she plans to spend the rest of her life with... A look of utter disbelief.

“You... Are you?” Her mouth gapes open. “Oh hell. You are.”

Clark is looking very confused at this point. “What?”

Lois checks her watch. Yeah, she can probably get this solved with time for a nap and nookie before she's heading out again.

“That thing you use to get Bruce on the super secret line where we can talk about things I don't get to publish? Get him on and hand over please.”

“He's at home, but what is this about?”

She sighs. Holds her hand out. There might be an eye roll in there. “Please?”

Clark shakes his head, a ghost of a smile flitting across his face. He knows his wife. He knows this woman better than anyone has ever known their spouse, including things like breathing patterns, pupil dilation, heart rate... It isn't quite the same as empathy. But he knows her. And this? She considered this to be a stupid and easy-to-solve problem. When she gets like this, the results are usually pretty good.

“Yes?” Is the gruff voice they both hear, pressed close together as they are to do so.

Lois huffs. “It's just me, Lois. Listen, I need to enact spousal rights on this crap you have going on. I need full disclosure, both B's. Give me that and I can make my flight with a smile.”

It takes Bruce a second to parse that, but when he does, his answer is calm. “Subject?”

“What does Batman. The superhero Batman. What does 'The Batman' owe Thomas Wierzowski?”

There are five seconds of silence. Then: “I see Clark has been talking.”

“And I'm not talking about just last night. I'm talking about taking down Croc. Stopping a high-speed chase miraculously before anybody died, taking down Two-Face. Add it all up. How much pain did this kid spare you and others? Got all that? Remembering that he isn't a hero, he's just a good kid. Must suck that Batman can't do anything to help the poor kid living in a shit hole. I hear there are boohoos all over Whoville because of it.”

The answer comes back a deathly growl. A whisper. A sound that could scare hardened criminals to confess half-dreamed crimes just to avoid hearing them again. “What. Is. Your. Point.”

“Now, mister I can separate my lives just fine I don't need to see a shrink, what does BRUCE WAYNE owe this kid? So far I count wealth, face, and as far as the public will know, life and limb. And that is what the article I'll write in about a month is going to mention while I am describing what passes for his life now. Batman needs to shut the fuck up for a while. Bruce, fix this. It's messing with my only chance this week and that is not allowed.”

Click.