Post by johnreiter902 on Nov 6, 2019 1:02:37 GMT
by Christian R. Jacobsen (March 28th 2006)
Metropolis Museum - 10:30 p.m. - Three Days Ago
Security guard Steve Johnson made his rounds through the darkened
corridors of the old museum, his way illuminated only by the single
point of light emanating from his old flashlight. He stepped slowly
and cautiously around every corner, as he always did at this hour,
his head darting from side to side as he went. It was his last
night on the job before his retirement, and he was looking forward
to it being just another uneventful evening.
As he entered the wing dedicated to the infamous Salem Witch Trials
of 1692, he began to think about all the years that he had been
here, and how, come the morning, if he wanted to enjoy any of the
exhibits in the museum again, he'd have to pay for a tour. Thirty-
five years he had been here, since just after he had been discharged
from the army following the Korean War, and he had gotten to know
just about everything in the museum, every exhibit, every nook and
cranny. His eyes began to tear up a bit as he stopped in the middle
of the Salem Wing, as he realized just how hard it would be to let
all this go, but it was time to settle in with his wife Martha and
just relax for a while.
"But," he thought aloud, "it's time move on." He took off his hat,
and ran his brown hand through his thinning salt and pepper hair.
He replaced the tan security guard's cap back on his head and was
taking a step to exit Salem Wing, when he heard the smashing sound
of breaking glass from behind him. He drew his sidearm and spun
around to face whoever or whatever it was that had created the
disturbance.
"Hold it right there," he bagan, pointing the pistol at the culprit,
a young woman in an odd looking outfit that appeared to be some kind
of stylized, skintight black leather witch's costume. Steve gulped
loudly, and hoped that he didn't look and sound as terrified as he
felt.
"Leavest me be mortal," the black clad witch replied with the
slightest hint of a British accent, "for I havest no quarrel with
thee. I am merely here to reclaim my property."
"Look lady, nothing in this museum belongs to you. These are all
artifacts that have been lawfully donated to the museum. You leave
now, and I won't call the cops. You don't, and things will get
rough."
"Try your best mortal. I assure you, you won't live long enough
to 'get rough.'" With that last word, the witch smirked, and her
hand glowed with some form of supernatural power.
Steve rushed forward to try and subdue the woman, and felt himself
being lifted off the floor and thrown through air like a rag doll.
As he came crashing down into one of the old display cases, he felt
the shards of glass and wood being driven though his flesh. In a
few seconds, the witch was standing over him, laughing. "I warned
thee mortal, but you wouldn't listen."
Steve strained against the pain he was feeling, but he knew that it
was no use. Some unseen force was holding him down to the floor,
making him unable to move, and causing the broken wood and glass
further and further into his body, severing organs and making him
lose blood faster. As he began to lose consciousness, he stared up
at the witch, and got a good look at her for the first time, but the
face he saw couldn't have been possible. It was the face of Sarah
Paul, one of the women burned at the stake as a witch at the Salem
Witch Trials. He had seen her face before, hundreds of times in
fact, in the portrait that hung above the case that the young woman
had smashed. "Not...possible...," he said as he gasped his last
breath.
Metropolis Museum - 8:15 a.m. - Today
"So that's the story, Superboy," Curator Roger Stern said as he
cleaned his glasses with a cloth from his coat pocket. "It was
Steve's last night on the job, and this happens. Unbelievable."
"I'll see what I can do Dr. Stern," the Boy of Steel replied, a
reassuring look on his face. "I'll find this thief and murderer and
bring her to justice."
"Good, " the older gentleman sighed in relief. "You're going to
need to talk to Dr. Thomas Paul, my former assistant, and the most
knowledgeable expert on the artifact that this woman stole."
"Where can I find Dr. Paul?"
"Actually, in your own hometown of Smallville. He just moved there
with his wife and two teenage daughters to rennovate the Smallville
Museum. You could probably find him there around 8:30 this morning
when he--"
"8:30? What time is it now?"
"About 8:15--"
"Darn, I'm late for school. I'll take care of this later, sir," the
Boy of Steel replied and took off in a blur of red and blue motion.
Superboy knew that he was going to be in serious trouble if he
didn't pour on the speed, not only from the principal, but from Ma
and Pa as well. And of course, he would have to be late today of
all days. Vice Principal Curry had asked him to act as a guide for
some new student who had just shown up at Smallville High.
"No worries, with super-speed I'll be there and changed into Clark
Kent in 13 seconds...I hope." Superboy continued to curse himself
as he entered the outskirts of Smallville a few seconds later. He
could feel it, the ugly stare he was going to get from Ms. Curry if
he didn't make it there in the next couple of minutes.
A minute later, C.J. Kent was running into the school's main office,
panting like he'd run all the way there from the Kent farm. He ran
into Vice Principal Curry as he entered the office, literally, and
noticed she was tapping her left foot on the tile floor.
"You're late, Mr. Kent," was all she said in a cold as ice tone that
could even send chills up C.J.'s invulnerable spine.
"Sorry, ma'am. I overslept. Won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't, Mr. Kent, or I will have you in detention for
a month."
"Yes, ma'am. Where is this new student I'm supposed to meet, ma'am?"
"Ah, yes. Right behind you."
C.J. turned to face the new student, and found himself staring face
to face with the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen.
Sparkling blue eyes, auburn hair, and a smile that could easily be
considered contagious. "Clark Kent," began Vice Principal
Curry, "meet Jennifer Paul, newly transferred here from Metropolis."
"Pleased to meet ya," began the beauty before him as she offered her
hand to the dumbstruck C.J. "You can call me Jen, by the way."
All C.J. could do was stare, as he had never before laid eyes on
such a gorgeous young woman in his entire life.