"Clive, be careful," warned Clark. "If it isn't clearly selfdefense, or to prevent immediate physical harm to Scribe, there could be trouble later."

"I don't know about everyone else," growled Batman, "But if Clive gets to Luthor before I do, I intend to develope temporary blindness."

Clive smiled at him. "I knew you were my kinda guy."

"We can discuss that after we rescue Scribe." Robin blinked at him. "What?"

"Nothing." *I think life at Wayne Manor is going to be a lot more interesting from now on.*

Lois went with Clark instead of Superman, but otherwise the pairs remained the same as they had been the previous night. The two reporters went with the group that was assigned an entertainment complex in downtown Metropolis. Jimmy and Robin were assigned to the group hitting a multi-level department store, and Clive and Batman went to Luthor's main office building.

The security guard at the desk looked up as the handsome blond man in the leather jacket leaned over his desk, smiling brightly. "Can I do something for you?"

"You certainly can, pet." Clive slapped an envelope on the desk.

The guard's eyes flashed wide as he noted the official seal printed on the front of the envelope. "Oh, another summons for Mr. Luthor? I thought they'd made arrangements to deliver those to his lawyer. Still..." He reached for a phone, "I can call upstairs and..."

"That won't be necessary." Clive's hand darted out, quick as a snake, and caught the guard's OTHER hand, which had begun to drift below the desk's top. He squeezed hard. Bones gritted together, and the guard paled. "And you can just keep that naughty hand far, far away from that fucking alarm button you have under there."

The police came through the main doors, right behind Batman, who nodded approval. "Good work, Clive. He'd have had them alerted before we got five feet inside the building if I or a uniformed officer had come in."

"My pleasure." Clive dragged the hapless guard across the desk and shoved him at an officer. "Please put that away somewhere. I'm sure you can come up with a nice obstruction or abetting charge somewhere."

"Material witness?" said the officer.

Clive shrugged. "Works for me."

The group of policemen and women scattered and began a systematic sweep of each floor. Any door that was locked, and could not be immediately UNLOCKED was forcibly opened. Some of the officiers, the rookies not long out of the academy, bot a wee bit enthusiastic, and in a short amount of time there was more than one door off it's hinges.

The two posse members didn't bother with searching the lower floors: they went directly to the penthouse office. On the way up Batman said, "Be prepared. Luthor probably has monitors somewhere in his office, and may be expecting us."

"That's all right, precious. I'm very seldom what people expect."

The reception area looked completely normal. The young woman with the Scribe haircut and the blood-shot eyes looked just as surprised as you would have expected her to look. "Can... can I help you gentlemen?"

Clive smiled charmingly. "Hello, love. We're here to see your boss."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Precious, if your boss had made an appointment with Batman, don't you think you would have remembered it?"

"I... suppose so. What is your business with him?"

"It's official." Batman had retrieved the papers, and he handed them over.

"Oh. Well, he's not in right now. He's gone to lunch."

Clive raised his eyebrows. "A bit early, isn't it?"

"You don't think I'd question him about that, do you?"

Batman said, "Young lady, there have been officers watching this building all morning, and they didn't see Luthor leave. Where is he?"

She looked puzzled. "Come to think of it, I didn't see him leave. He just called me on the intercom and said he was going out. I figured he went while I was getting supplies."

"Is there anywhere inside the building he might have gone to eat?" Batman asked. "I remember seeing a company cafeteria listed."

The girl giggled. "Mr. Luthor? Eating in the company cafeteria?" The giggles grew to chuckles, then full blown laughter. She finally sat down and held her sides.

Clive looked at Batman. "I think she means that it's highly unlikely."

"Miss, these papers allow us to search the premisis. You may continue with your work while we proceed." Batman said.

"Fine by me. This has been the high point of my job here so far."

They made quick work of it. There were only a few large rooms on that floor, and every cabinet and closet was thoroughly checked. Nothing. By the time they had finished, the rest of the search party had reached the top floor, and they conferred. Nothing.

"He could have her in a hidden room somewhere," Clive mused. He turned to the watching receptionist. "Dear, has there been any construction going on in the building lately? Any renovations or major redecorating?"

She shrugged. "Oh, there's almost always something going on."

"What was the most recent."

"Let me think." She pondered. "Um... They had to replace the carpeting and a lot of drywall in Communications on eight. They divided some larger offices into cubbyholes on the fifth floor. What else, what else? Oh, yes. Insulation replacement and panelling in Records, basement."

They started at Communications and worked their way down. The dry walling had only been replaced on outside walls, so there were no concealed spaces possible there. They checked the new cubbyholes carefully on the fifth floor, but there were no space discepencies that would indicate a hidden cell. On the way down to the basement, the officer who had joined them said, "It's beginning to look like she's not here. It would be kind of hard to hide any kind of secret space underground."

Batman gave him a level look. "Believe me, with enough money it's very possible."

Once in the basement they spread out again and began to search. Very soon Clive called Batman to a storage closet and pointed to a small pile of material. "One of the drones told me that was the insulation material left over from the job. It doesn't look quite right to me. Tell me what you think."

Batman lifted the edge of one of the rolls of material, studying it. Then he looked up grimly. "You're right. This isn't insulation, it's soundproofing material."

Clive's eyebrows lifted, then lowered dangerously. "Ah-hah. Time for another tour, and some very careful pacing off of distance."

Scribe hadn't wanted to remove the dress any longer than absolutely necessary. She rinsed the front of the skirt part in the sink, then put it back on and wrapped it in a towel to absorb most of the moisture. *So I have cold thighs more an hour or two. I'm not sitting around here in the buff like some damn... uh... Okay, what's an example of a woman who sits around naked waiting for some guy to show up and use them? Mm. Houri? The geishas wear kimonos.* She sighed. *Trapped like a mouse, and I'm going over semantics. Ya got other things to worry about, Scribe.*

Which was demonstrated rather forcefully when the door to the outside opened again and Luthor entered. She'd been sitting on the far side of the bed. Now she got up and edged away. "Look, my skirt hasn't even had a chance to dry."

"That's all right." He shut the door, locking it. "We can hang it up to dry. Though I have a feeling that it may not be in salvageable condition after this session. Pity. I rather like it. Oh, well, I'm sure I'll be able to buy a knock-off in any number of stores in a few days."

Scribe watched nervously as he removed his jacket, laying it over the foot of the bed, then pulled off his tie. "I started my period." she said.

He began unbuttoning his shirt. "Not according to the calendar from your physical. You aren't due for at least a week. In any case, that's all right." He smiled as he pulled off his shirt. "It will delay the oral sex, but I see no reason why it should be a barrier to intercourse."

Scribe stared at him in disbelief. "You have to be kidding."

"Not at all." He unlaced and removed his shoes. "In fact, it would be rather convenient. I forgot to bring any lubrication. Since this is your first time, I don't expect you'll lubricate naturally. The flow would make things easier on you."

She darted into the bathroom and slammed the door. There was a soft tap. She heard Luthor say, "Well, if you'd really rather do it in there, it's fine by me. I just thought you'd prefer a nice, soft bed to cold tile, but since you're the one who's going to be on the bottom, it's up to you."

"Luthor, let me go and I won't press charges for anything you've done so far. Cross my heart."

"That's very sweet of you Scribe. But even if I believed you, we both know that this has gone too far to be swept under the judicial rug. The state would find some way to press charges, so I might as well get something out of it. Now, be a good girl and open the door. I'm feeling a bit... impatient."

"I'd tell you to go to hell, but I have no doubt that is where you came from in the first place."

"Flatterer." A sigh. "I should have had the lock on this door disabled, I suppose. Oh, well..."

The door was suddenly shivered in its frame by a blow so hard that it bounced Scribe away from where she had been pressed against it. *Oh, damn. I forgot how massive that sucker is.* There was another blow, and the crackling, screeching sound of hinges beginning to tear away from wood. Scribe squeezed her eyes shut. *Okay, God, it's crunch time here. I know I may have kind of fudged on a few of the finer points of the commandments, but you know I try to do right. I would really, really appreciate a little assist right now. And if that isn't going to happen, then could you pretty please make me pass out early on in this encounter? I'd really appreciate it...*

The third blow knocked the door loose. Luthor pushed it open on the wobbling hinges and stepped inside. He was panting a little, and his face was flushed. His dark eyes glittered as he smiled at the woman who was trying to back through the far wall. "You know, it's been a long time since I actually had to work for it. I'd forgotten how satisfying it could be to come to the end of a successful pursuit."

Scribe's chin went up. She was trembling, and here eyes were terrified, but her voice was clear. "Yeah, big, bad hunter. Just about as impressive as those assholes who pay to have domesticated big game turned loose on fenced-in land so they can blast them for a trophy."

"I could make some lurid jokes about stuffing and mounting, but frankly, I'm too aroused right now to bother. Come here."

"Fuck you."

"Oh, yes." He sprang at her.

"Nothing. We've been through this entire basement twice, and there's nothing!" grumbled the policeman. "She isn't here. We should go check on what the other groups have come up with."

Batman was watching Clive stalk up and down the central corridor. His fists were clenched at his side, and his handsome face was pale with anger and frustration. "No. My lamb is here, I know she is. I can feel it."

"I hate to have to admit it, Clive, but it looks like he's right. Perhaps we should go back upstairs. If Luthor has returned from wherever he went, we may be able to lean on him for some answers."

Clive had stopped in the middle of the hall and was staring at a picture. The walls were lined with tasteful prints, hung at intervals. The cosmetologist lookd very thoughtful. "Batman, what's wrong with the decore here?"

Batman frowned. "I don't bother much with decoration."

Clive glanced at him. "Hm, yes. I'm sure that a few stalagtites in the Batcave go a long way. But look at this." He pointed. "Starting at each end of the hallway. Picture, picture, picture, between doors. Then this."

He indicated the large picture before him. It was actually a framed poster for a popular theatrical production that had been running for some years in one of Metropolis' finer theaters. "Your point?"

"Well, it just doesn't fit. It thows off the balance." Clive took hold of the frame.

One of the employees who'd been watching from their office piped up, "You shouldn't do that. Mr. Luthor will be angry. He picked out that and hung it himself."

"Did he now? All the more reason."

Clive lifted down the poster and, holding it, turned slightly so he could look at the space that had been concealed. The employees jumped, squawking, as glass shattered when Clive tossed the picture down on the tiled floor. He reached out and touched a fingertip to a flat metalic circle that was at waist height on the paneling. He turned burning, triumphant eyes on Batman and hissed, "Keyhole."

Batman reached into his utility belt. "I have a lockpick..."

"No need, darling." Clive lifted his foot and kicked the door in.

It wasn't going to do any good to scream, she knew that. It would only be a waste of breath and energy, and would probably tittilate Luthor even more, but she really didn't have any choice in the matter. It was more or less instinct. A large, horny sociopath grabs you: you scream. Simple progression.

She'd always known she had a good set of lungs, but with the scream revirbrating off all the mirrored surfaces in the bathroom, it was even more impressive. And the bastard was laughing, saying, "That's lovely! What sort of noises are you going to make when I get inside?"

She struggled, but there wasn't much she could do. He was ready for the knees, and those were her most effective defense. Still, she tried. She managed to get her nails into his face. That was when he slapped her. For a moment she was dazed, half stunned. He took the opportunity to rip the neckline of her dress down to her waist.

"I didn't really want to do that, Scribe."

"Sure you didn't. Let's see you explain the grooves in your face to everyone outside, you bastard."

"I'll think of something. Perhaps a mugging. I'll report the results the next time I come in to fuck you, but you don't need to worry about that right now." He had hold of her arms in a grip that was going to leave circles of bruises, and he pushed her down to the floor.

The tile really was cold...

There was a crash, then a boom. She found out later that the crash was Clive kicking the door in, and the boom was the sound of it hitting the wall.

Clive was looking through the freshly cleared doorway, and his line of sight was directly into the bathroom on the other side of the room. The sight of the tangled, heaving pair of bodies on the floor elicited a murderous roar.

Even if Batman had wanted to halt him it's doubtful that he could have. Clive could be very quick when he was motivated, even in those heavy boots. He couldn't put the boots into action quite as quickly as he wanted to, for fear of missing his mark and injuring the squirming, shrieking Scribe. So he just grabbed Luthor by the still thankfully fastened belt and then performed the rather impressive feat of jerking the larger man completely off his victim.

Luthor tried to scramble to his feet, but caught a size ten steel toed boot square in the chest, and was flung back against the wall. Behind him a policeman shouted, "You'll break ribs like that!"

"Ribs are a secondary target," Clive snarled. "I was aiming for his face."

Luthor saw Batman and a slew of uniformed officers crowding into the outer room, and did a rapid assessment of the situation. He stayed on the floor, held up his hands, and said, "I surrender. Read me my rights, then I want a lawyer."

"You have the right to piss off." Luthor got his arms up in time to bear the brunt of Clive's next kick. But a bone in his forearm snapped, and he gave himself a bloody nose when the arms were driven back into his face.

"Clive!" Batman shouted. "Stop it! She's safe, and you're going to get yourself up on assault charges."

"Like I fucking care!" Clive kicked again. Luthor wisely tried to turn, and caught it low on his back, right above the kidney. He was probably going to pee blood for a few days.

Scribe, shaking in the corner, nevertheless realized that there was only one way to stop her friend from getting himself into serious trouble. She called plaintively, "Clive!"

He hesitated, foot lifted to deliver a blow to Luthor's head that would likely have caused brain damage, and looked over at her. Clutching her torn dress as high as she could with one hand, she help out her other pleadingly. The red rage faded from his eyes as he turned from the man who was crumpling against the wall.

As he went to her, Batman stepped in and clapped cuffs on Luthor. Then he stepped out so two uniformed policemen could get him up and manuever him out of the room, one of them carefully reading his Miranda rights off a card. There were going to be very careful about all the details.

Clive went to Scribe, crouching down beside her, and pulled the shivering woman into his arms. She clung to him, finally starting to cry. Clive stroked her hair. "Baby girl, are you all right?" He made a hissing sound. "Clive, you idiot! Of course she's not all right! She had a hulking great maniac on top of her!"

"No, I'm okay. He didn't... he... not yet. I... um... I'm still intact."

Clive kissed her forehead. "Thank God, darling."

"Sucker ruined my dress. And I worked so hard on it."

"Oh, precious, look at you." Clive slipped off his leather jacket and helped her put it on. "That takes care of the top part, but..." He blinked. "Whoopsies! Where are your knickers? I know you had them at the party: I helped you dress."

"Psycho tycoon took 'em as a souvenier."

"The swine. Not a bad choice, but one doesn't do that without asking permission."

Scribe hugged his neck. "God, I'm so glad to see you! You're making a habit of rescuing me in bathrooms, aren't you?"

"It's not that I mind, darling, but why don't we try to find some activity we can do together that's a wee bit less of a strain on the nerves? Can you stand up, pet, or shall I carry you?"

"I was carried in here. I'd rather leave on my own two feet."

"That's my girl." He helped her to her feet.

Batman stepped forward. "Miss Scribe. Glad to meet you, though I wish it had been under more pleasant circumstances. I've had one of the officers call an ambulance, and they should be here shortly. In the meantime..." He fiddled with his collar and pulled off the cape, handing it to Clive. "this detaches."

Clive wrapped the black, silky material around her shoulders and ushered her out of the bathroom. He took one look at the anxious faces of the gathered policemen and said, "Relax, boys. We were in time." There was spontaneous applause.

By the time they made their way up to the ground floor, walking past open mouthed, whispering Luthor employees, the ambulance had arrived. They gave Scribe the quick, regulation check over of pulse, BP, pupil dilation, etc. Then they tried to convince her to let them strap her to to the stretcher. She clutched at Clive. "No way! He's the only one I'm ever gonna let use restraints on me again."

When they looked confused, Clive said, "Don't worry, I'll help her out to your bus. Just clear a path, please." As they approached the front door, they saw that, though a path had been cleared to the waiting ambulance, it was lined with jostling photographers. Clive sighed. "Sweety, are you sure you don't want to wrap up in this cape and let me carry you to your chariot?"

She patted his cheek. "No, Clive. Yeah, most of it's hype, but there were a lot of people out there genuinely worried about me. I want to set their minds at ease as quickly as I can. Besides, that turkey isn't going to turn me into a cowering, whimpering blob." She squared her shoulders, eyes narrowing. "I am strong. I am invinsible. I am woman. I am full of myself, but I deserve to be right now."

She stood at the door, wrapped the cape a little more jauntily, and whispered over her shoulder, "Just be there to catch me in case I've over-estimated myself. It's happened before, ya know." Then she swept the door open, lifted her head with a cocky smile, and stepped out into the strope of the popping flashbulbs.