Shortly after getting married, you and your husband buy a beautiful farm where y’all have plenty of animals and live out the rest of y’all beautiful marriage in the slow country.
“Lionel,” the familiar voice breached the darkness that surrounded him, dragging him out of the haze between wakefulness and unconsciousness. He could feel a hand on him trying to shake him awake and a part of him wanted to shrug it off so he could sleep for a few minutes more.
Then he felt fingers thread through his hair and brushing his temple in tender concern, that the more alert part of him realized he needed to wake up. No one he knew would touch him in that way except maybe one person and if she was, something was very much wrong.
Slowly he pulled himself back to consciousness and blinked open his eyes to stare ahead at a musty and dank, open space that looked like an abandoned warehouse. He could hear the dripping of water somewhere in the distance and the creaking of rusting metal from above as wind pushed against the metal slats of the roof.
“Oh thank God,” he heard Martha Kent sigh in relief when he finally awoke. “Lionel, are you alright?” She was leaning over him, one hand gently resting on his arm while the other held her up against the molding, concrete floor. Blue eyes met his grey ones with a worry he could only describe as motherly.
“I…” he began to croak out but paused to work moisture into his throat. “I think so.” Lionel began to sit up and soon quickly regretted it as a wave of vertigo left him nauseous. He leaned over with his head resting against his arms and moaned in misery. “No, not really.”
“Lionel?”
“I feel like my stomach wants to leap out, contents and all,” he explained and took several, long and deep breaths to try and calm his stomach. It took him a few minutes longer before he finally decided he won’t be decorating the floor with his lunch.
He lifted his head then and took a good look at their surroundings. They were indeed in an abandoned warehouse but he wasn’t sure how exactly they had gotten there. “What happened?” he asked of her and took in her appearance.
Martha looked windswept and worn. Her hair was frizzed and her face marred with patches of dirt. Her senatorial attire certainly had seen better days, the clothing dirtied and torn at the seams. “I’m not sure,” she tells him and helps him sit completely up. “One moment we were in Washington dealing with a mugger, then the next we are here.”
Lionel frowned as he remembered what she spoke of. They had been enjoying a stroll through The Mall when a man in a hoodie and sunglasses came up to them demanding for their valuables and money. Martha had given him her purse but he had refused, the memory of losing Julian a second time still too fresh for him.
Then… they were here.
“I don’t remember anything other than the mugging,” he tells her with uncertainty. He doesn’t like not knowing. “Surely you remember anything else?”
Martha was quiet for a moment as she pondered on how best to tell him something. He can tell she knew something and simply didn’t know how to explain it. “Lionel, when you decided to fight him and shots rang out…”
“You’re not hurt are you?” his eyes widened and immediately he began searching her with unabashed scrutiny.
She placed a hand on his cheek and gently drew his attention back to her face, “No. I’m uninjured. But after the shots rang out, the mugger was on the ground and then you grabbed me into your arms and ran.”
“Ran?” he was confused and she bit her lower lip.
“Like Clark does.”
He blinked. He blinked again and then it dawned onto him what she meant. He mouthed “Oh” and stared off into nowhere particular as he processed what he had been told. “I take it we are not in Washington D.C. anymore.”
“I’m not sure where we are,” she confesses and looks toward the partially opened bay doors of the warehouse. He couldn’t hear any traffic outside but that didn’t mean they weren’t in a city. “When I couldn’t rouse you at first, I tried to go look for help. As far as I can tell, we’re in a city that is near a body of water. It’s not Metropolis, but it is a major city.”
Lionel carefully stood as she spoke. He noticed he was missing his shoes, shirt and suit jacket and wondered when during their journey he had lost them. “We probably shouldn’t linger here for much longer. Abandoned or not, these places tend to attract the unsavory elements of cities.”
“I agree. We should look into getting new clothing and figure out where we are too,” she suggested and he nodded in agreement. “Do you have a phone?”
He patted down his trouser pockets in the hope of finding his cellphone but then he remembered he had kept it in his jacket pocket. “We may have to uh… borrow one.” The one time he really needed his flip phone and he did not have it.
“Tell me you at least have your wallet still?”
He knew his larger wallet was with the phone, but he did keep a smaller money clip in his trouser pockets for quick access to bills. She gives him a bemused smile when he produced the clip and the inch thick wad of bills it held. “Let’s go find some new clothing, hmm?”
He held out a hand to her before taking his first step since he awoke. Finding that he wasn’t going to double over from vertigo, he cautiously led them to the doors and peered outside. The warehouse yard seemed as abandoned as the building was. He could see the perimeter fence had been breached, one whole panel completely flattened as if something had run into it at supersonic speeds.
At least they’ll be able to get out.
“Come on,” he gently coaxed and started for the fallen fence.
They made their way off the abandoned property and out onto a worn access street. Martha had not been wrong in her assessment of where they ended up. The warehouse was nestled between several multi storied buildings of a stone architecture only seen in the older cities of America. Now that they were outside, he could see what was nearby even though the sun was setting in the west and casting the region into darkness.
At first he thought they were in Gotham but the architecture wasn’t as gothic in style and he couldn’t see the very visible tower of Wayne Enterprises. The city also wasn’t as new as Star City or Central City. He could see skyscrapers across a waterway to the east and in between the smaller buildings but it was the unique tower that identified where they were.
He could see the tall and infamous Sears Tower off in the distance. With the tower as the most obvious clue as to which American city they were in, “I do believe we’re in Chicago,” he tells Martha as they approach a vast train yard. He holds back against the side of a two story switch tower and looks out onto the empty and darkened tracks.
“Of all the places,” she answers and moves to press against him closely. “Don’t you have an office here?”
“I do but it’s over by the Sears Tower.” He looks for a way to get across the train yard. He could see a service road that threaded in between and crossed over at one point along the multiple lines. That would be the best way to cross, and from there they could find a main street to get their bearings.
Quietly and quickly he led Martha across the yard, ducking only once behind an unhooked train car as a service vehicle passed by, before making their way to a wired fence that separated the train yard from the rest of the city. Lionel followed the fence until he found what he was looking for, grateful in the predictability of teenagers and gangsters, as he found a hole in the fence that they could slip through.
“I don’t want to ask how you knew that would be there,” Martha commented as she passed through the hole he held open.
“Train yards were and always will be a favorite pastime for the less reputable young,” he grinned smugly.
“Why do I get the feeling you hung out in the Metropolis yard?”
He continued to lead the way as he spoke, “Because I did. I wasn’t exactly a… leading example in my youth. I got into trouble as much as you probably did but for different reasons.”
Martha snorted an amused laugh, “You don’t know half the trouble I caused my father.”
“Hmm I could only imagine.”
They finally reached a busy street and Lionel looked for a street sign. It had been a long time since he had been in Chicago and he really didn’t travel through the city on his own, always relying on his driver to get him where he needed to be. But he was confident he could navigate the windy city once he had an idea of where exactly they were within it.
“Look!” the senator pointed across the street at a building that was clearly an outlet mall. “We can at least get some clothing and maybe a phone?” He nodded and they headed down the busy sidewalk for the mall. Lionel was self conscious of how they appeared to others as they passed by and received strange and concerned looks. There were also expressions he couldn’t quite understand as some people seemed to recognize them and hurriedly got out of their way. He glanced back once to notice at least one couple was pulling out their phones.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” he murmurs to Martha just before they ducked into a Marshalls store. He refused to leave Martha’s side once they were inside and headed toward the women’s clothing section. It didn’t take Martha long to pick out a simple shirt and jeans in her size. He also found a hoodie for her to keep warm in, a feeling in the back of his mind saying they were going to need it for some reason, before they searched in the mens for something he could wear.
Once they had their selections and used the fitting rooms to change, Lionel felt less exposed but not quite as comfortable as he would have liked. “You actually don’t look that bad in street clothing.” The tension in him eased at her praise and he gave her a small smile in return.
“I’m not use to them,” he confessed and tugged a little at the black hoodie he was wearing. The jeans he wore were a little snug around his rear and he probably could have done better than a t-shirt that had Darth Vader blazoned across it. Martha had thought it was amusing but he didn’t quite understand why. At least the shoes were comfortable. “Come on, lets get these paid for and see if we can find a taxi to my office building.”
She followed him to the checkout with the various tags and two shoe boxes of their purchases. Like before, Lionel noticed how people were looking at them and reacting. Something was wrong, he could feel it but he wasn’t sure what it was. This time he couldn’t attribute it to their state of dress. As Martha handed over the barcodes of their clothing, he studied his surroundings and his gaze fell upon the electronics section in the back. He could just see a large display television on the wall broadcasting a local news station and he took a moment to watch it and read the ticker.
…one year anniversary since the murder of Senator Kent. Suspected murderer, Lionel Luthor still at large despite authorities intense search for the founder of LuthorCorp. Lex Luthor: My father is not a killer. He cared deeply for the senator.
“Martha,” Lionel’s eyes widened at the newsfeed, understanding dawning as to why everyone was reacting the way they were. “We need to leave.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” she looked up at him in confusion before giving the cashier his money.
“I don’t know how or why, but something is very wrong and if we don’t leave now,” he whispered into her ear, eyeing the cashier suspiciously as the young man took his time to count out the change. “Keep the change,” he tells him and took Martha by the arm to forcibly get her moving again.
“What’s going on?” she demanded and he leaned in to speak to her as privately as he could.
“I just saw a newsfeed accusing me of murdering Jonathan and I am wanted,” he explains. They step out into the street and he looks down in both directions before choosing north. He just needed to get to LuthorCorps’ field office here in Chicago and everything would be fine. Lex can explain to him why he was suddenly being investigated for Jonathan Kent’s death.
“But… he wasn’t murdered,” Martha argued, frowning as they hurried down the busy sidewalk. “He died of a heartattack.”
He knew that. She knew that. So did Clark and everyone else close to Jonathan. Although he could argue a case against him for being the cause of the heartattack, the courts would have still ruled in his favor as it being an accidental death. So whatever the incriminating evidence they had now, had to be false. He had to wonder who would want him sent back to prison. Lex certainly wouldn’t have bothered and he needed him more to run LuthorCorp than to pettily see him behind bars again.
“Didn’t he?” she looked up at him and although she was trying not to be accusing, he could see it in her eyes and it hurt. It deeply hurt that she would believe him to have murdered her husband.
“I was merely the last straw that broke the camels back,” he metaphorically answered and pursed his lips tightly. Lionel stopped them at a crosswalk and he faced her while they waited for the light to change. “I am no more happy about it than you are, but I did not intentionally harm your husband. You have to believe me.”
She studied him quietly and he hoped she saw how honest he was about this. “I… believe you.” Martha looked away then and he suspected that she didn’t fully believe him. He may not have intentionally gone there that night to hurt Jonathan, but he had gone there with the intent to force his way into the family secret knowing perfectly well that the newly-elected Senator wasn’t going to take it well.
“I’m sorry,” he pleadingly apologized. “If I could change how that moment was handled, I would.”
Martha wrapped her arms around herself, “I know.”
“Is that Senator Kent?” someone asked from behind them and they both turned around to look at a young man in his late teens staring at them in shock. “Holy shit, it is! You’re not dead! Then that means… Oh shit.” The boy began to back away as Lionel glared at him.
Then it occurred to him what had been said. “Wait… what do you mean she’s not dead?” He didn’t get an answer as the teenager ran away. As he watched him flee toward others shouting for help, Lionel noticed black SUVs quickly approaching the Marshalls they had just left. “We need to go, Martha.”
“But…”
He grabbed her by the hand and stepped out into the crosswalk. Drivers breaked and honked at them for getting in the way and nearly causing an accident but he didn’t care. All that mattered now was to get Martha to safety and to find answers to the strange and bizarre questions he had.
Based on what the boy had said, it had been a Senator Martha Kent who had died a year ago, not Jonathan. That meant she had been the one to run for State Senate and he had gone to her in secret to discuss about Clark. Something had happened that caused her death and he was accused of murder. But how was all of that even possible?
“Lionel Luthor!” he heard someone shout his name and he dared to steal a glance behind them. Several federal agents were in pursuit on foot while others were taking their vehicles to cut them off. “Halt and put your hands on your head!”
He felt Martha pull back against him and he jerked to a stop. He gave her a questioning look, “Martha…?”
“Lionel, we cannot run. They’ll shoot you,” she tries to reason with him. Martha reaches up and grabs both of his hands and he finds himself squeezing them firmly. “I don’t want you to get hurt over a misunderstanding.”
Lionel nervously glanced at the men approaching, their guns in hand, before looking to her desperately, “I cannot go to prison for this. I… can’t go back. I’ll die there.” She stepped into his personal space and embraced him tightly and he didn’t know what to do. He just didn’t know what was going on or how everyone could believe that he had murdered her. He would rather die first before causing her any harm.
He returned her embrace tightly, his head resting beside her own as the federal agents surrounded them. They hesitated because of Martha’s presence but he knew it wouldn’t be long before they took him down. “I’ll do what I can to set things straight,” she promises him and he tightened his embrace more. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll find out.”
“Let her go, Luthor!” one of the federal agents commanded. He looked over at the man, a middle aged white man with thinning, dark hair who looked a lot older than he apparently was. He had his sidearm in hand but lowered and wore a dark blue windbreaker with a multi pointed star shield on his breast. Lionel recognized the emblem as that of the U.S. Marshals. He should not have been surprised that they would respond to a sighting of a wanted fugitive. “You don’t want this to end ugly.”
“I can’t go back,” he tells her again and he could feel her fingers tighten around the hoodie he wore. Lionel tightened his embrace one more time before unwrapping from around her. He didn’t step far enough for them to move in. “I didn’t kill her,” he protests.
“I don’t care,” the man replied and Lionel frowned deeply.
“I’m sorry.” Lionel kissed her forehead reverently.
“Lionel…” Martha whispers, understanding what he was about to do.
“Don’t do it, Luthor!” the U.S. Marshal warned just before Lionel pulled away and bolted down the street. “God damnit! Why do they always run?!? Cosmo, take care of the Senator!”
“Gotcha, Sam!” The man named Cosmo approached Martha, his side arm tucked back into its holster as his boss and the rest of their team chased after Lionel Luthor. “Senator.”
Martha ignored him for the moment as she watched as the man she cared about ran back toward the train yard they had come from an hour before. “What’s your name?” she finally asked once she lost sight of her friend. She turned to face the federal agent with a look that demanded answers and Cosmo found himself wishing he had been chasing the fugitive instead of dealing with the politician.
“Marshal Cosmo Renfro,” he answered.
“Now tell me why you are hunting Lionel. Do not leave any detail out,” she demanded to know and he looked at her in confusion.
“You… don’t know?”
“As I understand it, the media believes he has murdered me. Clearly I am not dead, yet your boss is still pursuing him.” Martha folded her arms and stared at the agent.
He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, “Poole! Maybe you can fill her in?”
“Sam told you to take care of her, Cosmo,” a black woman with a baseball cap that had U.S. Marshals blazoned in it, answered back with a shrug.
“Oh come on! I feel like I’m about to be scolded by my mother here,” he complained and then swallowed when Martha approached closer to him. “Or a senator who happens to be a mother. Um…”
Ok so im in the trenches of The Fugitive (1993) hyperfixation and I was bored and decided to make a fake text conversation that Sam and Richard could have.
