Chapter Text
It’s cold. Maybe 20 or 30 degrees out. You can see your breath when you step out into the city, the snow-covered ground hiding away patches of invisible black ice. Almost as if it had to keep a low profile, too.
Too cold to have reports of a double-murder. The crime scene would be altered with, snow covering the bodies as if they were veiled in their own mysteries, only to be found out with the help of some unenthusiastic kids. And not to mention the targets on their backs. In both senses…
Clark glances around, noticing the yellow cautionary ‘do not cross, crime scene’ tape, keeping the area blocked off from the everyday person. A piece has come loose, by the looks of it, and begins to flutter in the light wind. It was most certainly real.
There lies one of the most powerful and upcoming politicians on the scraped-up asphalt sidewalk. And the famed assistant responsible for putting the less-consequential policies into play… by putting all the chips up to bet with. Both were young. Jumpstarted into politics by both of their fathers, also powerful within the city’s higher standings.
Clark’s guess is nefarious play; the perp wanted something from them but either didn’t get their way, or did and covered the evidence by convincing someone to kill the duo for them, or worse… they did it themselves.
He shuddered at the thought of someone taking matters into their own hands and doing the dirty deed. It may have been worse if someone hired another person to take them out… Anyway, that wasn’t the point. The point was that someone had done this. They had actually killed two people, but… who could’ve even wanted them dead? There were eight billion people in the world and Clark had to figure out the chain of events to discover the killer. But he most certainly couldn’t do it alone, especially with the influence he had as Superman and the aging heart that prevented him from doing too much.
He needed some help. And he knew exactly who to ask.
He snapped high-resolution photos using his phone before taking flight back to Smallville, where he would likely be stopped by a paparazzi group. But there wasn’t a group quite yet, which he attributed to it being so early in the morning. He wouldn’t think the boys would be up, but then again they were always full of new surprises.
Especially after he died. They were so different from how he left them… But Jon had always been up before the sun rose, probably from early practices in both Metropolis and Smallville football seasons. It definitely took Jordan some getting used to when he started, despite loving the sun when it came up for that Kryptonian solar absorption energy boost (those were words from his father, mixed with a little more modern-thinking and slang from Clark). So even if Jordan wasn’t up, Jon would be. He could talk to Jon and let Jordan and Lois rest for a little longer before bringing up the murder scene to his seventeen-year-old son.
So that’s what he did. He whispered at Jon’s doorway, and pushed the door slightly. Jon was sitting on his bed, back against the wall and scrolling on social media.
He knew he was coming, hence the whispering. But there Jon sat, looking at his dad with a warm smile and asked, “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“Hi, Jon. Is your mom up too? I have… something disturbing to tell her about but I won’t if she’s still asleep.”
Jon listened in close to his mom’s breathing, the slow rise and fall of her breaths giving him all the information he needed to know. “I think she’s still asleep, but you can tell me. It’s probably something I’ve already seen. I feel like I’m already desensitized to a lot of the hero stuff.”
“...You ever see a murder? In broad daylight”? Well, I guess this would be broad moonlight but still–”
“Dad.”
“Right, sorry. A murder. Two, actually. Right out in Metropolis, a politician and his assistant.” He said as he whipped out his phone and showed Jon the photos. “I was hoping your mother would be able to–”
“There,” Jon said, pointing to the edge of the politician’s body while his dad trailed off. “There’s no blood. His clothes are all the same color and there’s no pool. Whatever they used, it wasn’t anything that would leave a mark… at least, on the outside.”
“Oh that’s- that’s a really good observation… wow, Jon.” Clark said, impressed that Jon figured that out so quickly.
“...Dad, cmon… it’s basic EMT training. They gave it to me when I worked at the firehouse. I think they have to by law. But I could be wrong, there could be some sort of stab wound on their backside covered by clothes.”
Clark didn’t quite expect Jon to know such small details, but they were important regardless of if he was impressed that his son was aware of them or not. He was, though.
If it wasn’t something like a stab wound or gunshot that took the two out, that led to a few more things it COULD be. Poison? …Something worse?
Clark didn’t know exactly. He’d been Superman for over twenty years, but he’d always have his lovely wife figure out the minutiae of the situation and have her report on it while he was out fighting crime or saving people. He would try to help her, of course, but sometimes it was hard being the only hero around.
But that’s where the boys came in. With two more heroes Clark could trust, things might be easier. Of course, he’d still have to train them but with a little work, some effort and cooperation on their parts, they’d be a fine duo. And it seemed each had their strengths. They could use that out in the field. He’d work on some of the low-profile parts, but he thought that wouldn’t be too hard.
Jon would have his experience from the station– firehouse safety and EMT training, Jordan would have his hand-to-hand combat training from Sam if he needed it… they might be able to figure out the cause of death, the motive, or even who did it.
But he’d need help setting it up. Who would he ask now that Sam was gone? Reduced from the great man, General, down to the double-beat heart keeping him alive? Who would he turn to?
Oh. He knew exactly who to turn to.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Hardcastle was found pacing at a desk, standing over the computer. Her usual gruff attitude unsurprising to the likes of Clark. He walked in quite quickly, taking off the jacket he had on and keeping it tucked under his arm.
“Why are you here?” She asked without hard feelings.
“Murder case in Metropolis. I think I need a favor from you… if you don’t mind, that is.”
“What do you need?”