Adventure Comics #11

Suicide Slum: the one place in the City of Tomorrow that time had passed by, Metropolis’ dirty little secret. Its neighborhoods were ruled by poverty, petty crime and a quiet desperation that not even Superman could alleviate.

It was to Suicide Slum that Lois Lane had come in pursuit of a story. It had taken some doing re-locating her source--- but Lois Lane was nothing if not tenacious, so she took the last train across town, and arrived at the seedy bar just before 9 PM, in time for her rendezvous. It was a dilapidated, non-descript dive, hazy with smoke and loud with obnoxious music. The minute she walked in the catcalls started, and she wished she had worn a longer skirt.

“Hey, baby,” drawled a man at the bar in a white tank-top with a mouthful of gold. “You take a wrong turn off Clinton Avenue?”

Lois barely spared him a glance. “No. Looks like you took a few, though.”

Challenging laughter came from his cronies and even the man had to smile and rub his chin, chastised, as Lois took a seat next to him. Ignoring the man, she ordered a shot of whiskey, downed it in one, then ordered another.

“Careful, baby, that ain’t iced tea.” The man in the white tank-top looked her up and down, appraisingly.

Lois swallowed, slammed the empty glass down on the bar, tossed back her hair and glared sidelong at the man. “Your concern is duly noted, but you’re not my father,” and she signaled for one more.

A gap-toothed grin appeared on his face, and he said, “No, but I can be your daddy. Thas’ what alla you Sullivan Street girls want when you come down to the ‘Slum.”

A low throaty chuckle escaped from Lois and this time she turned to look straight at him. “My father was career army; I grew up on bases in countries so mean and squalid it makes this dump look chic. So believe me when I tell you, I get no thrill here. Besides,” she turned away dismissively. “You couldn’t handle me.”

This elicited another round of mocking laughter, but this time, the man in the white tank-top did not look amused.

Lois smiled sweetly as her third round was delivered. She took this one in two gulps, then got up and with a provocative backward glance, headed for the side door. The man watched her leave, his upper lip curled.

In the alley outside, the night air was bracingly chill. The liquor made her head swim, though it was no more than she could handle; unbidden, she remembered a night in Bangkok with Lucy on her sixteenth birthday--- now, that had been a lot to drink!

The man in the white tank-top emerged from the bar to find her waiting, alone in the dark alley.

“Damn girl,” he said in a whining tone, slapping the back of one hand into the other. “You don’t fool around…!”

Lois shrugged. “You said you’d need an excuse to be seen with me. And I don’t care what you tell your friends inside, Cassius, but if you take another step closer you will live to regret it.”

Cassius raised his empty palms. “Relax, baby, I’m not stupid enough to mess with Big Blue’s girlfriend.”

I’m not his girlfriend, the words were poised on her tongue. He’s made that abundantly clear. But she decided this former gangbanger didn’t need to know that. “The Evil Factory, Cassius,” she said instead. “Tell me everything you know.”

The hardened thug flinched visibly at the mention of the mysterious organization which had claimed responsibility for a recent and nearly lethal attack on Superman and promised terror and mayhem for Metropolis. Glancing down the alley, he responded in a hushed tone. “I don’t know much, I swear Ms. Lane. It was back when I was running with Intergang. I heard a few guys talk about them, hard guys, guys who’d soon as cut your throat as look at you… and they were scared.”

Chills crawled up Lois’ spine. There was real fear in the thug’s voice.

“Who are they? What do they do?” she asked, stepping closer to hear him better.

“I never really found out exactly…” Cassius hedged, looking uncomfortable. “But they were bad. Real bad. Rumor had it that they were responsible for some of the crazy stuff that went down when the Black Planet came from the Dark Side. That they were kidnappin’ people and… changin’ them. Doing medical experiments on them and what not. One time, I did a job with this dude who looked pumped fulla ‘roids, I mean he musta been eight foot tall. I swear I saw bullets bounce offa him, like Big Blue himself. ‘Cept this guy just burned out--- overheated from the inside, until he was just a hollow, smoking husk!”

Lois nodded. It was too dark in the alley to take notes, but she knew she would never forget these words.

A boisterous noise from within the bar caused Cassius to start, looking back at the doorway. There was the sound of loud voices and possibly broken glass, but over the loud music nothing else could be discerned. He turned back to Lois, looking abashed. ‘Heh. Bar fight,” he explained. “Happens every night in there.”

“You were talking about the experiments…?” Lois prompted him. She was getting anxious herself; clouds passed in front of the moon overhead and the night seemed to close in around them.

“Yeah. Weird science stuff. I saw some ordnance that supposedly came from there… They shipped it off to Hub City, I think, but this was military-grade weaponry. I dunno, maybe it was used in the invasion. I left Intergang after all hell broke loose, came back to the ‘Slum. Didn’t want no parta that.”

“Tell me where I can find them.”

Cassius snorted. “Find them? Lady, you crazy! You don’t want none a’ that. I seen grown men cry when asked to make deliveries to the Factory…”

“Where, Cassius?” she pressed.

But Cassius only shook his head and waved his hands. “I don’t know, and I don’t wanna know. All I know is down. Down to the Evil Factory, they said.”

“Down?” Lois frowned. “Down where? Downtown? Underground?”

“Thas’ all I know, I swear.”

“Then I need names. Give me something to work with here, Cassius.”

‘I don’t know no names!” the informant snapped, just as the wooden wall behind him was hit by something heavy from inside. Cassius turned nervously back to Lois, who could feel a palpable tension in the air, but she was onto a story, and was not easily diverted.

“I know when I’m being lied to, damn it,” she grabbed him by the arm as he made to go back inside. “You owe me, Cassius. If I hadn’t arranged for your new identity with my government contacts, people in Hub would still be looking for you.”

He wouldn’t look at her, but in the light of the sole street lamp out on the street, she could see sweat beading on his forehead.

“Look, Ms. Lane, I gotta bad feelin’ about this all of a sudden,” he shook his head. “Givin’ up Hub City gangsters is one thing, but crossin’ the Evil Factory… There are worse things than ending up dead.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Cassius?” Lois would not let him off the hook, moving her head to catch his eye. “You give me something here and now, and we’ll call it even between us. I’ll never bother you again.”

“Mockery!” the informant blurted, as if saying it quickly would absolve him from snitching. “S-s-something like that. I heard old man Ugly say it hisself. Doctor Mockery.”

Lois allowed him to pull his arm away as she processed that, but the name wasn’t familiar. Cassius didn’t wait around for a follow-up question, though throwing wide the ramshackle side door of the bar, anxious to put as much distance between him and Lois as possible.

His scream was sudden, strangled--- and mercifully brief. Lois was spattered with a thin spray of blood as his body was hurled with monstrous force back out the door and against the opposite wall of the alley; Cassius’ head followed a second after, bouncing and rolling on the filthy ground.

In shock, Lois looked up at the creature framed in the doorway: it was an emaciated thing of ebony flesh and knotty sinew, with the smooth elongated head of a lizard--- only its mouth was filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth. A long, sinuous tongue licked blood from its knife-like claws, and devious eyes instantly found Lois…

Frozen in place by the sudden horror of the moment, she could only watch as the thing moved towards her with a reptilian grace, dragging behind it a wiry, spiked tail. Their eyes were locked and Lois realized if she tried to bolt, it would be on her in a second.

Advancing slowly on her, blocking any hope of flight, it extended its inhuman head towards her, blackened nostrils flaring as it inhaled deeply of her.

“You reek of the Kryptonian,” it hissed in a sibilant voice, raising one stiletto finger. Lois struggled to restrain the impulse to recoil as it ran the dull side of the sharpened appendage down her cheek. Its face was very close to her now, and the smell of it made her want to gag. “You’ll make a pretty gift. Mokkari and Simyan will be pleased with their sleezoid.”

“Mokkari---?” Lois continued to tremble at the touch of the creature, but her investigative instincts had not failed her. “Doctor Mockery…? Of the Evil Factory?”

At the mention of the shadowy cabal, the sleezoid reared back and waggled its fingers in a kind of ecstasy, the knives making an awful clattering as it emitted a keening wail. It was responding to the mention of the Evil Factory, like a psychic trigger--- was that what had brought it to this alley behind the bar? Had her investigation summoned this thing?

Whatever the case might have been, she wasted no time. Fumbling in her purse, she seized the slim cartridge given her by Professor Hamilton of S.T.A.R. Labs; she had not come alone into Suicide Slum unprepared for trouble! The sleezoid did not indulge its nature very long, but lunged back at Lois. She fired the hypersonic “mace” at it, and the thing was slammed backward by a cone of white noise that shattered its eardrums and dropped it, writhing on the ground.

Lois reeled, the closed space causing the soundwaves to rebound on her, but she kept her footing. The thing on the ground kicked and wailed in pain, its tail thrashing, and the sonic attack had set off alarms in a three block radius. Lois did not linger. She staggered out of the alley, and left that place of carnage, fleeing Suicide Slum as fast as she could.







The skull-shaped hunter-killer drones came from Outer Space, faster than any government response could intercept them. But they didn’t target the White House or the Kremlin, no military sites were hit, no national monuments were destroyed in spectacular fashion. Instead, all six of them converged on one American city, the home of the planet’s greatest defender… but Superman wasn’t their target, either.

All six of them crashed into the Galaxy Communications Building at different points, causing the entire structure of the skyscraper to shudder at the impact.

From his top-floor office, Galaxy CEO Morgan Edge had monitored the drones from the moment they had entered the atmosphere--- less than 90 seconds had elapsed thus far--- and had taken measures to protect himself. He plunged his finger-jacks into the computer interface, evacuating his consciousness into the digi-sphere all around him, gazing down upon the lifeless organic shell that was his body through his office security cams.

He had known this attack would come eventually, and though he was prepared for it, his plans had not yet reached fruition. And yet they had not come in strength… Curious. He would show them the folly of this miscalculation.

The drones had infiltrated the building from all sides and at different levels, crashing through glass and steel and concrete, scattering panicked occupants. Glaring red sensors in the “eye sockets” scanned for their prey, the chromium tentacles that served as the drones’ body writhing and wriggling in a gross approximation of organic life. But security protocols--- secretly installed in the Galaxy Building--- were immediately activated. Environmental bafflers on every floor sounded, causing even humans within range to swoon and fall, steel shielding slid into place to protect sensitive areas, and advanced beam-weapons dropped from ceiling hatches or emerged from wall plates to target the intruders.

The building quickly became a war-zone.





In a streak of blue, red and yellow, Superman dove out of the sky and into a gaping hole in the side of the Galaxy Building. He had no idea what was going on or why; he had been out in the Pacific Ocean, plugging a rumbling volcano, when he had picked up Cat Grant’s broadcast: “… Galaxy Building under attack from space, dozens of casualties, no word from CEO Morgan Edge…”

Beams of energy lanced down at him as he touched down on a floor of wrecked offices. They ricocheted harmlessly off of him, but had all but demolished everything around him. Bursts of heat vision destroyed the weapons one by one, and in the sudden quiet, he heard a weak moan. A man was pinned beneath a shattered desk, which Superman heaved off of him, one handed.

“Are you alright?” he asked, gently helping the older man to his feet, scanning him for any serious injuries.

“I’ll be fine,” the man coughed, dazed. “What’s going on? Where did those laser guns come from?”

“I’m going to find out. Get to safety!”

Anger swelled within Superman as he swept the area with x-ray vision. He had long suspected that there was something not right about Morgan Edge, and this callous disregard for innocent lives did nothing to convince him otherwise. It was a similar situation everywhere Superman looked, deadly security systems causing indiscriminate destruction.

Distracted, he missed the hunter-killer drone until it was upon him. The alien construct slashed across him, firing a beam weapon much like the one installed in the building. He shrugged it off, but staggered backward in surprise at the sudden attack. Even more surprising, the death’s-head device ignored him and plunged through the floor, in pursuit of different prey.

Superman launched himself after it. He chased it downwards through the building, smashing through floor after floor, careful to avoid civilian injuries, pausing only to blast away at the lethal security lasers as he went. This was insane--- in protecting against the drones, the security systems were doing far more damage. The drone reversed its direction--- whatever was guiding it obviously confused--- and zipped upwards now. This time, Superman let it go. They were after something, but the drones had not targeted anyone yet--- Superman had to shut down the security countermeasures before anyone else was hurt.

Faster than a speeding bullet he hit the basement, landing in a spray of concrete and sparking electrical cables. The Galaxy Building’s had its own generator, and it was huge and technologically sophisticated. Wasting no time analyzing it, Superman just pounded on it, wading into it with both fists, smashing it into pieces, until power to the whole building went down. Above him, he heard the awful whine of the security lasers cease as every floor went dark.

Except for the alien drones. Instantly, all six of them changed whatever direction they were going in, and shot upward as one, towards the same point. Tracking them with his x-ray vision, Superman launched himself after them; it was obvious they were headed for Morgan Edge’s rooftop office.

He may be selfish, suspicious and criminally negligent, but I’m not going to let you kill him, Superman gritted his teeth and poured on the speed.

The floor to Morgan Edge’s office exploded as Superman emerged with the six lethal drones. He had one jerking in his outstretched hands, two had their tentacles wrapped around his legs and three were buzzing free, primed for the kill--- Edge was slumped at his desk, seemingly unconscious, the Metropolis skyline stretching out majestically through the wall-sized window behind him.

Superman neutralized the drone closest to the oblivious CEO with a blast of heat-vision, sending it skirling out of control, but the other two would be on him in nanoseconds…

“Edge, get out of---.”

A figure had flown into view outside the window, a woman wearing a very familiar costume of red and blue. A mask concealed most of her face, but red-gold hair spilled down over a long flowing cape, and upon her chest she bore a stylized ‘S’ shield, very much like the one worn by Superman himself. Like a wraith, she flew through the window as if it weren’t solid matter, just as the two free drones stabbed towards Edge. She threw up her hand and a miniature vortex appeared in the air before each drone, swallowing and closing behind them.

The drone in Superman’s hands finally crunched apart in a flash of otherworldly light. He plucked one from his leg and smashed it against the wall until it was pulp, and the other disentangled itself from him to make a plunge towards Edge, but Superman was faster, swatting it down with an open palm; it landed on the ground, sparking and twitching but harmless.

The attack over, Superman looked over at the surprisingly-clad woman, who was surveying the scene with some satisfaction.

“Just as it should be,” she muttered, the corners of her mouth upturned in the suggestion of a smile.

Wiping the smashed bits of alien circuitry from his hands, Superman said to her, “Thanks for the assist. Do I know you, Miss…?”

“Oh!” The costumed woman seemed suddenly at a loss, her lips forming a perfect ‘o.’ She took a step backward, and said, “Um, you can call me Superwoman. And no, you don’t know me… yet.”

Before Superman could puzzle-out what she meant by that, she dissolved back through the window, and as he had watched her do with the hunter-killer drones, she opened up a vortex in the space before her, this time big enough for her to fit through, and she slipped into it with a quick, friendly wave back at him, the gap in time and space closing behind her.

“Well, that was unexpected,” the Man of Steel crossed his arms over his chest. Superwoman, huh…?

“Get out of my office.”

The words were spoken with raw, grating fury. Morgan Edge was sitting up at his desk, glaring at Superman.

Taken aback at the unwarranted vehemence, Superman said, “Mr. Edge, I don’t know what happened here, but a lot of people were almost hurt or killed, yourself inclu---.”

“I know exactly what happened here,” Morgan Edge cut him off and slowly rose from his desk, palms flat on the surface in front on him. “My people and I got caught in the middle of some murderous grudge between you and some crazy super-villain, and now there’s no telling how much damage has been done to my property and business.”

“That’s not true at all.” Superman shot back, coldly suspicious. “Those alien drones ignored me and went after you. You’d be dead right now if I hadn’t---.”

“If you hadn’t what, Superman?” Edge seethed. “Done incalculable damage to this building? Destroyed millions of dollars in research projects and equipment? You’re a menace, and I have a multimedia empire at my disposal to convince the world of just that! Now, I said get out of my office.”

At a loss by this unexpected antagonism, Superman left the office of the mogul, taking flight through the ruined floors and walls, but what he had seen behind the eyes of Morgan Edge lingered with him: pure, unadulterated hate.




The next morning at the Daily Planet, Clark Kent hustled across the pressroom, juggling his briefcase, his raincoat and a dripping umbrella, late for the staff meeting in progress in the conference room.

“Excuse me. Pardon me--- oops, I’m so sorry!”

“Ouch, my foot!”

“Hey, watch where you’re going, Kent!”

In the wake of trod-upon toes and rolling eyes, Clark noisily entered the conference room, the clasp of his briefcase coming undone and spilling papers out on the floor. Heads turned to glance at him in annoyance or dismissal as he gathered his files, trying to smile and wave unobtrusively at his co-workers.

“Late again, Kent.” Perry White growled, looking up from various proposals he was reviewing.

“Sorry, Perry, the train was---.”

“Shut up. Sit down. Troupe, tell me about Mayor Irons’ plans to slash funding for the Centennial Park Fund…”

The table was crowded, as the Planet was gearing up for their weekend editions, and Clark tried to find a place to slip in somewhere. Near the head of the table, closest to Perry White, was Lois. He tried to catch her eye, but she seemed distracted, scribbling idly in her notebook. He usually sat next to her, and started to make his way sidelong towards her, but Steve Lombard saw him coming, and angled his own chair so as to not leave enough room, giving Clark a mock-apologetic shrug.

Clark shot Lombard a narrowed-eye, pursed-lip look, subvocalizing an “Hmpf!” He made his way back the way he came, looking to squeeze into a different spot, frustrated again when someone else shifted positions, inadvertently blocking him.

“Fine, let’s go with it, but for the Sunday supplement,” Perry had heard all he had needed to from Ron Troupe, and moved on to Lois. “Lois, go.”

Startled out of her reverie by the sudden silence and attention of the table, Lois looked down at her notepad, then back up at Perry with a shrug. “Um, I was going to do that piece on Superman’s fight with Metallo…”

Perry gave her a quizzical look. “You did that piece. Last week. Is there a new angle?”

Lois shook her head quickly, as if to clear it. She looked tired. “Sorry, chief. No, no new angle.”

The Editor-in-Chief of the Planet frowned at his star investigative reporter. “Well what do you have? You were working on the Evil Factory thing, right…?”

Clark paused, listening with the rest of them for Lois’ response.

After only a slight hesitation, she said, “I’ve got nothing. A lot of dead ends so far.” Then she looked down, volunteering nothing more.

In the awkward silence that followed, Clark studied Lois, listening to her sped-up heartbeat and the tell-tale flush on her cheeks. She was lying--- holding something back. Why?

“Great Caesar’s Ghost, Kent, would you sit down!”

He jumped at Perry’s exasperated exclamation, aware that he was the target for their editor’s deflected reaction to Lois. He spread his hands, whacking a colleague in the back of the head with his umbrella (“Ouch! Clark!”), shrugging his slumped shoulders, “I’m trying but it seems there’s no room---
.”

“Just give me your story for tomorrow’s edition, Kent.” There was the note of a barely contained eruption in his sickly-sweet, sarcastic tone.

“Superwoman!” Clark told him, looking around at a table of blank stares.

“Excuse me, Kent?”

“Superwoman, Perry. A cape and a mask and the whole---.” He made a swooping motion with his hand, which caused his briefcase to flop open again, sending papers fluttering all around him, and those closest to him to scoot their seats away to avoid becoming a victim of his clumsiness. This had the effect, however, of opening a spot at the table for him, and he wasted no time grabbing a chair from against the wall and dragging it over as he spoke. “She appeared out of the blue yesterday at the attack on the Galaxy Building. Unusual superpowers but she wears the ‘S’ shield. Apparently she helped Superman save Morgan Edge from the killer alien drones.”

“That’s not how Edge tells it,” Perry grunted, intrigued and mollified. “His twenty-four hour news network is calling it collateral damage in a battle between Superman and space aliens. And he makes no mention of a Superwoman at all…”

“I got it from Inspector Henderson himself, Perry,” Clark told him, “Who got it directly from Superman. Besides, I think GBS might be trying to slant the story away from the fact that most of the casualties and damage occurred because of excessive security protocols installed at the Galaxy Building.”

Perry nodded, a thoughtful look in his eye.

“Superman never lies,” Ron Troupe contributed with a shrug. “And GBS’ ‘Truth, Justice and the American Way’ motto aside, we’ve known for a while they have an anti-superheroes slant. Sounds like there’s more than one story there, Clark.”

“I like it,” a smile spread across Perry’s face. “Plus, its gotta just burn him that his hide was saved by Superman,” It was no secret the scorn Perry White--- a consummate newsman--- had for Morgan Edge and his brand of populist, advocacy journalism. “Nice job. Get me Supergirl, Kent---.”

“Superwoman,” Clark interjected. “Supergirl is actually---.”

“I don’t care if she’s Superlass, Superlady or Little Miss Supersister, just get me the scoop, Kent! And Lois will work with you on the Edge angle--- that is if you’re not too busy chasing dead ends?” Perry turned an overly solicitous look on Lois, who responded with a catty smirk that at least showed she was paying attention.

When the meeting broke up a few minutes later, Lois gathered her things and was one of the first people out the door. Clark hastened to catch up with her, but was caught in the press of people crowding between him and the exit, chatting or loitering to consult with Perry. When he finally got out of the office, Lois was already across the pressroom and walking fast towards the elevator.

“Lois, wait up!” he called after her, his voice drowned out in the chatter of the busy news office.

If she heard him, she gave no sign, getting into the packed elevator and staring at her cell phone as the brass-accented doors closed, blocking her from view.

His own reporter’s instincts flaring, Clark ducked into a broom closet with a convenient window and a moment later, when Lois’ elevator opened into the ornate ground-floor lobby of the Planet, and she was striding purposefully across the cool inlaid marble towards the revolving door, she literally bumped into him.

“Clark…!”

“Oh, there you are, Lois,” he fumbled with his glasses, knocked askew on his face. “I thought we were on the same elevator. Anyway, you seemed distracted in the staff meeting, I hope you’re not coming down with something…?”

She brushed a strand of dark hair from her face and sighed, shaking her head. “No, I’m fine. Just a rough couple of days. Good get on that Superwoman thing, by the way. Hope you land the scoop.” She ducked around him, and started for the door again.

“Uh, thanks. Any pointers?” Clark followed her, talking as he went. “What did you do to get that first interview with Superman?”

She stopped and turned so abruptly that he almost collided with her, and he was forced to draw up short, tucking his chin in as he looked down at her heavy-lidded, weary expression. “I threw myself out a window, Smallville. I don’t recommend it.”

A nervous laugh escaped him, and Lois waited patiently, aware that he obviously had something on his mind. “What is it, Clark?”

“Perry said we were to work on the Morgan Edge piece together, I figured you might want to do some research, hunt down some leads…?”

“I can’t right now, I’m working on something else---.”

He gave her a dubious look, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know, Lois, you said yourself you need some rest, I think you should take it easy. Is there anything I can help with? You helped me when I was under the weather last week, I’d be happy to do some legwork for you…”

A genuine smile crossed her face, and she put her hand on his arm. “I appreciate the offer, but this is something I have to take care of myself. If you’re free tonight, though, I have two invitations to that reception at S.T.A.R. Labs for their new patron, the Contessa Erica del Portenza, and I understand Edge will be there, so if you want to go, maybe we can corner him or at least do some digging…?”

Clark’s face brightened and he nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds perfect! Good thinking, Lois. Been a while since I’ve gone to one of those things. Remember how Mayor Irons’ inauguration party was crashed by the Prankster? Jeez, what a mess that was---.”

“Then it’s a date, Smallville. Get your tux out of moth balls and pick me up at seven.” Lois turned and headed for the exit again, her mind already on the business ahead of her.

“It’s a date!” Clark repeated, too loudly, passersby shooting him amused looks. “I’ll pick you up at seven. At your place.”

But Lois was already through the revolving door and into the rainy Metropolis morning, calling for a cab, leaving Clark to share a look with the elderly shoe-shine attendant, who rolled his eyes and turned away.





Superman soared above the Metropolis skyline, drenched by the lashing rain. Thunder rumbled, and there was electricity in the air; a storm was coming.

It was more than the weather that made the Man of Steel uneasy. He had no idea what the attack on Morgan Edge portended (what was the media mogul up to that he had made enemies from outer space?), Metallo was still on the loose, just who in the world was this person running around calling herself Superwoman, and--- not least of all--- what was going on with Lois? Her behavior at the Planet was not only out of character, but worrisome, so he had resolved to keep an eye on her for the day.

That was before the sea monster, though.

Rising from Hob’s Bay like a leviathan, shedding hundreds of gallons of water from its scaly hide, it threatened the bridge to Happy Harbor, cars screeching to a halt and crunching together in a pile-up, as it rose above them, roaring in a voice heard miles away.

“Greetings again from the Evil Factory,” came the insidious voice from every receiver within fifty miles, broadcast anonymously on all frequencies across the city. “Witness again our handiwork in all its terrible glory. Roused from his slumber is the beast called Sycorax, ancient devourer of the fathers of men. In eons gone by, he destroyed the once great city of Murias that stood upon this ground and is no more--- today he hungers for Metropolis. Thus has begun the first of the Three Days of Doom! Tremble, O city, for the Third Day cometh!”

People on the bridge got out of their cars and were making a mad dash from the congested span--- those that weren’t struck dumb in terror at the horrible sight looming before them. Then Superman flew over the bay, towards the creature and a desperate cheer went up.

He knew this creature, he realized; a few years back Aquaman had summoned it to help the Justice League escape the clutches of Professor Ivo--- it had taken the combined might of Wonder Woman and the Martian Manhunter to put it down then. He had no idea how the Evil Factory got their hands on it, but Superman knew he had a fight ahead of him. And he knew as well that the Evil Factory had a lot to answer for.

Absorbed in his battle with the monster, he had naturally lost track of Lois. So it was that he did not track her across the city, or as she made her way into first the subway, then the sewer system below Metropolis--- and then disappeared into the ancient and unknown labyrinths even further below. In a trance-like state, she strode though the carved halls of a long-dead and utterly forgotten city in the lightless places beneath the Earth, coming at last to a charnel pit of obscenities her conscious mind would have blanched to behold.

“See here, Simyan, our new plaything returns.” The pallid face of Mokkari twisted into a smile devoid of any warmth as he escorted Lois into the workshop he and his comrade-in-wickedness had dubbed the Evil Factory.

The bestial Simyan emerged from the restorative pool of effluvia, and loped, dripping towards them, his breath steaming before him. “How can she be my plaything if you won’t let me despoil her, Mokkari?”

“All in good time, my sadistic little friend,” Mokkari led the unresisting Lois towards an upright rig, into which he secured her, firmly placing upon her head a steel cap trailing wires and cables. “She is our key to the Kryptonian. It is well known he favors her, and while he is busy with our little diversion, we shall plant within her the seeds of his destruction.” The malevolent figure caressed the unresisting Lois’ face with one hand, and with the other threw a switch that caused her to arch her back in sudden agony and thrash in her bindings--- but from her eyes shone a dark, unnatural light.

Simyan bared his fangs and laughed his grunting laugh.

“She shall be the instrument of our assault,” Mokkari uttered the words as if he was tasting them in his mouth. Lois began to whimper, tears running down her cheeks. “The psychopomp that will deliver his soul unto obliteration… Thus by the call of his own heart shall he be damned!”