The Chronicles of The Trinity on Earth-10: Part One - Superman

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Month Nine

1978 Reeve Ave. | Metropolis, New York
Friday, May 17, 2019 | 11:28 EDT

DAY TWO

About five days after Lois got her devastating phone call, we received in the mail three first-class, round-trip plane tickets to San Juan in Puerto Rico. And before we started packing, we let all the necessary people in on what happened, where we're going, and for how long we'll be away.

So now, Lois and I are in the middle of packing for Puerto Rico, when Bridgette texts me with a 911. I tell Lois, and alarmed, I call Bridgette.

"Yeah, Dad," whispers Bridgette, "I'm in the restroom, and I was about to come out, but a group of seven people just walked in here and started shooting up the place. I'm changed into my uniform, but I need your help!"

I inform Lois of what's going on, and I change into my uniform and rush off to Metropolis High.

Metropolis High | Metropolis, New York
Friday, May 17, 2019 | 11:30 EDT

When I get there, I scan the building, find Bridgette still in the ladies' room, and I vibrate my molecules inside. After I become tangible, again, I whisper, "Bridge."

She turns around to face me and says, "Dad!"

And she hugs me like I'm going to fade away. "I'm scared," she says.

"Of what?" I ask her. "This is what you've been training for. Your Uncle Bruce has already taught you everything you need to know for these kinds of situations."

"I'm not scared for me," she replies, "I'm scared that I might mess up, and that someone could get hurt, or even die because of me."

"Just stick to your training, and you'll be just fine," I tell her. "And when we do this, and we're around other people, we use our codenames. That means you call me Superman. And before we go out there, how am I to call you?"

"Emotion," says Bridgette, no hesitation apparent in her voice.

"Emotion it is, then," I say, nodding and smiling at my daughter, proud of her for being so sure of herself. "Let's go, Emotion."

11:45 EDT

After we disarm, restrain, and remove six of the seven gunmen from the school building, (who turned out to be troubled and disgruntled former students of Metropolis High, between twenty and twenty-four years old), when we reach the last one and hide behind one of the closed doors of the cafeteria, he is holding the whole room hostage with his AK-47, and a couple of the hostages inside are wounded, some superficially, others gravely.

And he says, "Hey! Superman! Don't think I don't know you're in here! And if you don't come out from wherever you're hiding with your hands where I can see them in ten seconds, I'm gonna start droppin' bodies. Ten..."

I don't move, and he accelerates his countdown, aiming at a random student: "Three..."

And I don't want to take that chance. "Alright! Alright," I cry out in concession, "I'm coming out..."

And I quickly tell my daughter, "Emotion, I'm gonna try and turn his back to the door, and I need you to try to disarm him."

She simply nods at me, and I clasp my hands in front of me and walk out to meet the gunman.

"Hello, son," I say. "Can we talk, for a minute?"

"Why?" he asks me.

"If I may," I say, slowly walking around so that his back is to the entrance of the cafeteria, "I simply want to understand you. Mainly, I want to understand, just what happened to you and your friends that would lead you to do something this horrible."