Two cold winter days passed before Lois returned to the Daily Planet’s newsroom.
Due to weather conditions Zurich Air grounded the flight and refunded all the passengers’ money. Metropolis had been slammed with the worst blizzard in decades. Who could have imagined the Larkin Airport, indeed the entire city and its outlying suburbs could be crippled for forty-eight hours by something which began with the gentle ruffle of innocent fluffy, white flakes? Everything was completely encased in a blanket of snow that quickly hardened into a thick layer of hoarfrost when the temperatures plummeted into the single negative digits. Metropolis was at a complete standstill, nothing on wheels or wings could get in or out.
The only serious newspaper representative as luck would have it, at Larkin Airport, was Lois Lane. With a keen reporter’s eye she recorded all the dramatic events of those two frost bitten days. The most dangerous incident occurred when a freighter plane, heavily iced and nearly out of fuel, made a dramatic landing on the arctic-like surface of the only operational landing strip. Thanks to the skillful maneuvers of the pilot, the freighter avoided a vacant passenger plane as it skidded on the icy surface to a stop while dozens of frightened ground crew workers looked on.
Although that was by far the most terrifying story, there were smaller, more intimate stories. Groups of stranded passengers sleeping huddled together on hard floors. Many used their jackets or coats as makeshift blankets. Lois noted one young woman in particular, obviously a seasoned traveler, remove her thick red woolen shawl, lay it on the freezing floor and fall fast asleep.
Her heart was struck with compassion when she watched a mother play games with her two small children, keeping the young ones happy and preoccupied during such a crisis required a unique blending of tenderness and patience.
A number of unforeseen mishaps occurred to increase the stranded travelers’ misery. The water pressure in the bathrooms could not handle the sheer volume of demand. The massive food court, usually well stocked, ran out of food and drink for the same reason. Worst of all, after only a few hours of continuous use the generators failed and one by one the huge airports buildings began to freeze; passengers and employees of the facility suffered the cold equally.
Of course the Luthors and others of their ilk avoided all these inconveniences. Their private jet had managed to take off before all the travel restrictions had been issued. Lois wondered bitterly how the couple would have survived without their usual supply of champagne and caviar if they had been marooned with everyone else.
Lois never forgot the unbearable coldness of those two days. When she arrived at the airport she anticipated and dressed for the warmth of Africa. She did not expect to be stranded at the airport in the middle of a blizzard. Her medium weight quilted jacket barely kept her warm. Her entire body trembled while the tendrils of cold seeped into chilled flesh and clutched like vultures at her bones as the temperature within the terminal steadily declined. Fiercely determined to forget about her own discomforts and become the eyes and ears of this self-contained world, she phoned the office every few hours with updates. Elsie from re-write took down her story and had the article ready for Perry in time for the evening edition. Although how the newsies endeavored to get the papers onto the street under such harsh weather conditions after it left the printing presses was a mystery to the young reporter.
Three days later, when Lois stepped off the elevator, Perry ran up the ramp and praised her – not just for being in the right place at the right time - but for writing the story with understanding and compassionate insight. Two qualities which were previously foreign to her, usually her stories were written with the subtlety and finesse of a sledgehammer. Unfortunately, in the face of all this triumph, Lois returned *without* the story she wanted and to add salt to the wound she had been scooped by her old rival.
Instead of wallowing in regret and chocolate ice cream, Lois determined to build a wall of protection around herself. A partner – someone to share the load when a story got particularly demanding was part of that protection. Oddly enough, Bobby Bigmouth’s advice about a partner was nettling, yet painfully true. She needed to at least be somewhat approachable to other reporters and most definitely to the staffers at the Daily Planet.
If she had not been such a mad dog while chasing down her stories and stepping on anyone who got in her way, maybe, just maybe, her fellow reporters would have come to her defense the first time, when Claude stole her story.
It was a lesson well learned, but there were still others to follow. Over the course of the next two years she had endeavored to develop solid relationships with her co-workers. One of the closest was with the office gofer and budding photojournalist; Jack Bartholomew.
When Lois first arrived at the newspaper, she was inclined to be rash, impulsive and undisciplined in her behavior and speech. Her trademark was jumping into almost any situation without checking out the water’s temperature. For the longest time that trait was valued by her editor and some of the Planet’s reporters, but on a particular day that quality of hers nearly cost young Jack his life.
It began as an ordinary day as most days like that tend to be. Lois was working on another story when Perry burst out of his office saying: “Lois! Jack! There’s a robbery in progress at the First National Bank on State and 53rd! There are hostages inside! The MPD SWAT team is on the way. Move it!”
Lois grabbed her briefcase and ran up the ramp, Jack only two steps behind. “We’re on it Chief!” She yelled while running up the ramp, they managed to grab the elevator before the doors closed.
Twenty minutes later they arrived on the scene. Police cars, EMT units and the black SWAT van surrounded the bank. MPD units blocked off the area. From what she could gather, they were all in for a long stand-off, a very bad state-of-affairs for the hostages. The only reason Lois and Jack were permitted over the police line was because she aggressively flashed her press pass and even then Henderson wasn’t happy.
After cooling their heels for an hour, while a hostage negotiator talked to the robbers through a special phone hook up, Lois noticed the SWAT unit was preparing to move in. She spoke to Jack, “Come on, negotiations have broken down, I’m betting those guys inside are going to make a run for it. Let’s work our way ‘round the back and be waiting when SWAT bring those guys down. The robbers don’t want to sit through a standoff any more than we do.”
“Uh, Miss Lane, maybe we ought to wait for other reporters?”
“Who? Those gutless, perfectly groomed TV network guys? They don’t move for anything except a sound bit! Jack, this is front page journalism! You want Perry to give you that raise and promotion right?”
He nodded, then after a moment’s consideration, hefted his camera bag and said, “Lead the way!”
They ran down a blind alley, uncovered by the police …straight into the bank robbers making a hasty exit.
The thieves were startled for a heartbeat; when the two men realized only a slender young woman and a boy scarcely out of his teens stood in their path to freedom. The older of the two aimed his pistol and tried to squeeze off a shot… at Jack’s head.
Miracle upon miracles, the gun misfired. As the robber pulled the trigger a second time he swore, “Stupid rotten reloads!”
His accomplice, realizing what had happened, quickly raised his gun. Jack remained frozen in place. Seeing this, Lois ran towards Jack prepared to tackle him to get him out of the line of fire, praying that she would be in time. Suddenly the air of the gloomy alleyway stank from the bitter odor of gunpowder. The assailant had crumbled to the ground screaming, his right shoulder exploded in a mass of blood and bone.
The whole event took place in less than sixty seconds.
Jack collapsed his face pale in fright. Lois knelt by his side.
A terse voice spoke, its quiet tones were a source of annoyance and frustration on many an occasion to Lois, but at this moment, that voice was the sweetest, most welcomed sound she ever heard. Henderson holstered his weapon and knelt next to them. “Lane! What in Sam Hill do you think you’re doing? Trying to get yourself and this youngster killed?”
She looked past him and saw uniforms and SWAT running into the alley with EMT units on their heels. A strange chastened sound – her voice – crawled up a dry, strangled throat and spoke, “Th…thank you Bill… from both of us.”
Henderson gave Lois an odd look, then extended a hand to help Jack into a sitting position. The photographer regained his balance, pulled away from them and stiffly walked towards the men who tried to take his life and began taking their pictures. He behaved as coolly as any experienced war-time photographer under fire.
The wounded robber screamed as a medical tech tried to look after his injury. His accomplice glared hard at Jack, while he snapped picture after picture of the police reading his rights.
Henderson and Lois watched speechless as the scene unfolded.
Calmly Jack spoke with members of the SWAT team asking pertinent questions. When they had satisfied him, he then turned to Lois with an odd expression on his face.
“These pix should go well with the article Ms. Lane.” He casually looked at his watch. “We oughta make the evening edition if we get a cab right now.” There was a curiously flat tone to Jack’s voice, as if he was trying to distance himself from the situation. Without another word he strode past Bill and Lois.
Lois tried to catch up with him when Henderson grabbed her sleeve. “Leave him alone Lane. The boy is in shock.”
She snapped, “All the more reason for me to go to him! It …it was my fault.”
The older man shook his head slowly, “I’ve seen that look before on men who came back from a firefight and lived to tell the tale. That kid’s got a lot of moxie. When he’s ready to talk, let him. Don’t force it.”
***
It was a tense, quiet cab ride back to the office; Jack looked out the window, seeing nothing at all. Lois kept her hands clutched tightly around her briefcase. Even the cabbie, bellicose to the point of downright exasperation picked up on their cues and eventually grew silent. The silence grew longer and more strained after they exited the cab and Lois paid their fare. Jack ignored her and walked stoically towards the building. She followed him wordlessly through the lobby, waited quietly by his side as the ancient elevator leisurely made its way downstairs.
As the elevator began to move upward, Jack pushed the stop button, effectively halting the car.
Lois’ eyes flashing in anger, was about to speak when Jack said in a halting strained voice, “I… I came to work for Planet because its reputation for fairness is something to be admired. Fairness is something I didn’t have a lot of growing up. But most of all the strong, fairly written articles by the reporters such as yourself really spoke to me.”
“Jack… I…”
He held up his hand bringing to a standstill the expected torrent of words. “Want to know why that raise is so important to me? I have a younger brother. His name is Denny. He’s in a foster home with decent people, but it ain’t like living with family.”
“I…I didn’t know,” Lois stammered.
“Yeah well, talking about my personal life isn’t part of the job description. Denny and I are all the family we have. If *anything* happens to me, how long do you think it will be before he gets lost in the foster care system? A raise will get me out of that crummy room at the ‘Y’ and into a halfway decent apartment. Now it’s true, I agreed to go with you into that alley. If I had given it another minute’s consideration I probably wouldn’t have. I might have died today because of your compulsive need to beat everyone. In that case, where would my little brother be?”
The full import of Jack’s words slammed into her with the force of a hurricane.
“I still respect and believe in you, but don’t *ever* force me to chose between my family responsibilities and a picture again.” Jack grew silent after that, looking at Lois with determination and a touch of fear.
“Jack, it wasn’t my intention to get you hurt it was just… well.” She hesitated and realized he was also trying to make a name for himself, gain respect from Perry and take care of his brother. Her only responsibility was to herself and her goldfish. In that instance, Jack Bartholomew had earned her respect...and became the younger brother she’d never had.
“I apologize. Next time I go too far...”
Jack cut her off, “If the situation is too dangerous, I won’t follow.” His mouth was set in a self-conscious nervous half grin. Talking like tthis to a reporter could get him in deep trouble.
Lois smiled, “Friends?”
Jack nodded slowly. “Maybe …how about allies for now and we see where things go from here?”
“Deal!” Lois stuck her hand out to seal the bargain.
He hit the start button and the elevator, with a loud click and creaking groan of ancient gears, lurched and rumbled into motion.
Two minutes later, they burst into the newsroom and ran to their respective desks.
“Chief! I’ve got all the bank robbery information and Jack got a couple of quotes and killer pix! Give me twenty minutes and I’ll send the story to your inbox!” Lois booted her computer into life and started writing.
Perry barreled over from the Sports Department, he was angry in a way Lois had never seen before. “Hey you two, Henderson called, what’s this about one of the robbers attempted a couple of shots at Jack? Lois, he’s just a kid! No story is worth taking such risks …”
Jack looked up from his camera and said, “Uh, Chief? I’m OK. Shootouts, especially when working with Ms. Lane, are all part of the job. Once these pictures are developed you’ll *know* they are front page material. I’m heading over to the dark room now.” With that, Jack turned on his heel, ran up the ramp and disappeared down the corridor.
Perry watched the young man, shook his head and muttered, “Well I’ll be. That kid’s got the makings of a first rate photojournalist.” He then looked down at Lois who had been carefully typing away. He spoke in a softer voice, but there was a slight edge to it. “Lois, I know you had something to do with this. Jack needs a mentor, but don’t get him killed in the process!”
Properly chastised, she shook her head in acknowledgment of his statement, yet refused to look up. Perry glanced at her fingers as they danced over the keyboard; they were slick with the water of her tears. Without another word he returned to his office.
***
The incident at the bank taught Lois another lesson and one she stuck by. Her pursuit of the Pulitzer would mean nothing if an innocent person lost their life. She was still willing to take risks, but now was much more selective about the ones she took.
Over the next two years, Lois Lane honed her craft as a journalist; she wrote stories ranging from bikers commuting from outlying New Troy suburbs in frigid winter to how the police were doing more to stem Metropolis crime than prisons. She went undercover as a lounge singer in a swank nightclub to reveal a smuggling ring and in the process exposed a plot to assassinate the mayor.
The most daring investigation she ever undertook was disguising as a man to uncover a drug ring operating out of a bicycle messenger company. Bobby Bigmouth had provided the lead for that story and she paid for it with the thickest, juiciest porterhouse steak dinner in Metropolis.
Because her investigative and undercover work took her to the seedier parts of the city, Perry had suggested she undertake a course of self-defense classes. Maybe even carry a weapon of some kind.
The thought of learning to shoot and carry a gun made her ill at ease; she decided instead to learn Tae Kwon Do. The classes were highly disciplined, which appealed to that side of her nature and one of the best classes in the city were held only three blocks from the office. She loved testing her body and growing stronger, after a few sessions she was hooked, it was not unusual to see a gym bag tucked discreetly under her desk. Following a year of intense practice she became quite adept and had even participated in a small number of matches around the city.
With a decent bump in salary due to her new status as top investigative reporter on the city desk, Lois purchased a couple of snazzy business suits for herself. There were a few other things she changed:
Her makeup was more that of a professional polished career woman, and less awkward college girl. The $1.99 Press-on acrylic nails from LexRite were ditched in favor of soothing professional French manicures.
The chunky, flashy cheap costume jewelry was replaced with a few classic, tasteful pieces that could work in the newsroom or while pounding the pavement for leads on a story.
She refused to chop off the luscious brunette locks into a boring page boy. “I’ll look like a clone of every young female reporter in the city.” She muttered to her friend, Molly Flynn. As a form of compromise, she wore it in a sleek ponytail. On special evening occasions her stylist swept it into a sexy updo that exposed her elegant neck and shoulders.
As the months rolled by she developed funny quirks, like chewing off the erasers on her No. 2 pencils when she was hot on a story or eating Double Fudge Crunch bars when the trail went cold. The inhabitants of the bullpen were sometimes driven crazy by her leaps of intuition or non-stop babble when she became confused. But no matter what, Lois Lane produced the headliner stories that routinely raised circulation.
The brash, young novice Claude accused her of being, vanished as Lois Lane’s name and talent were recognized and she began to take her place among the ranks of the finest investigative reporters in the country. The bike messenger/drug ring article provided her first Kerth award. Holding the award on the night of the ceremony gave her a powerful sense of validation; she had finally arrived as an investigative reporter. Perhaps now the ignominy of Claude’s betrayal could be put behind her like the suffocating nightmare that it was.
In the meantime she and Catherine had developed a good, strong friendship. The two women played off each other’s strengths. Catherine tried to teach Lois the finer points of interviewing a subject without putting them on the defensive and Lois instructed her on the world of clothes and make-up.
Catherine’s crackling good interview of the Asian billionaire, Arthur Chow, yielded more than just a respectfully written article, but a budding friendship. Lois had convinced Catherine to shed her librarian image and indulge in new clothes and a new hair style. The results were promising, upon her first appearance in the newsroom, rather than blending with the nondescript furniture, Catherine stood out, looked professional, polished and to the more intellectually minded in the newsroom, tastefully attractive.
Through all the personal changes and journalistic challenges Lois continued to painstakingly add scraps of information on Gregory Daae, her determination to bring the media mogul’s nefarious dealings to the harsh light of day never wavered.
As for a regular partner on the city desk she still had none. But she had grown comfortable working with Jack and together they had managed to present excellent stories with fantastic pictures.
It was around this time Eduardo Friez returned from the Madrid office for an extended stay in Metropolis. He was the Daily Planet’s roving International correspondent. If there was a ‘hot spot’ Eduardo could be found in the middle of it. He was tall, yet slight stocky in build with swarthy complexion and a black patch over his left eye. The eye had been injured while he was covering a hurricane in Florida years before. A small rock stuck the eye; his vision was instantly destroyed.
This handicap did not slowdown his preference for covering dangerous news events; he wore a black eye patch and cut an almost dashing figure through half the newsrooms in Europe and America.
Perry had figured to put them together on occasion. Lois protested loudly against the arrangement - International correspondents reeked memories of Claude. Eduardo was sensitive to Lois’ feelings. He had been in Metropolis at different points in their relationship and from a discreet distance observed the entire affair. He privately thought of the relationship as the ‘rise, decline and fall of the Roman Empire’. After Claude was dismissed, he respected her determination to put the past behind her and move forward in her career. Despite a rocky start, the two journalists managed to work together.
They ran successful investigations on police corruption, a scandal in the air traffic controllers union and covered the Metropolis transit workers strike. Readers of the Daily Planet knew an article written by Lane and Friez meant well-written stories based on fact, not sensational fluff. They had been operating more or less as a team for nearly a year before Eduardo purely by accident discovered the Daae file.
It was late one night at the Daily Planet between the day and night shift change when Lois was working on her massive accordion file of research materials that was usually hidden in Constance’s office. She was so engrossed in writing margin notes she failed to notice Eduardo walk up to her.
Eduardo’s whistle came low and sharp between his moistened lips.
“What are you working on? The materials for *all* our joint investigations wouldn’t fill half these files! This looks more like research on a book rather than a newspaper article.”
Lois gasped in surprise and nearly fell out of her chair. “Good grief! Eduardo, you scared the life out of me! What are you doing here at this hour?”
He quirked a bushy black eyebrow and said, “I might say the same of you. So this is the material on the big ‘Pulitzer Prize’ story you have been researching for the past two years? I had originally thought those were vague ‘water cooler’ rumors.”
Lois studied her occasional partner and friend carefully; she knew his reputation for reporting dangerous stories was only eclipsed by his legendary tact and discretion. She needed to stop thinking that every male international correspondent was Claude or that everyone was out to steal her story. She tapped the pencil twice against the desk, flung the long thick ponytail over her shoulder and spoke.
“No, my ‘Pulitzer’ file really exists. I have been gathering facts on this article for more than three years Eduardo. We are looking at raw material for the definitive exposé on Gregory Daae’s business dealings over the past ten years.”
Again the bushy eyebrow went up in surprise, nearly disappearing into his hairline. “You’re talking about Gregory Daae… as in the owner of the Daae Media Group?”
“Unless you know of anybody else with that name,” Lois responded crisply. She was still unhappy at having someone discover her researching this story. She trusted him to a degree, but found it hard to trust *anyone* with an article of this magnitude. Nonetheless, considering the scope and length of his career Eduardo had probably forgotten more secrets than she had ever heard.
He whistled again, a low sweet sound filled with respect. “Ms. Lane, you aim high. With all this research and evidence,” he said gesturing towards the folder. “What’s stopping you from writing up the article?”
A deep sigh escaped her lips, “It’s a long story, take a seat.” Eduardo made himself comfortable at his desk. She proceeded to inform him of all that had gone into the research. Of Constance Hunter’s legal decision not to publish the article because they desperately needed a DMG insider to corroborate everything. She grudgingly mentioned Claude’s attempt to plagiarize the story, which led to his termination from the Daily Planet and her decision to only work on the article when no one was around.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to do the research at home? There’s a lot less chance of someone like me scaring the wits out of you.”
“All the research information is here. That new internet set-up for my home computer the suits keep promising hasn’t happen yet. Besides, anyone that sneaks up on me won’t have the drop for long! So tell me, what are you doing here so late?”
“I’m going to London.” Eduardo said quietly.
“Perfect! Besides needing insider corroboration, there are certain gaps in my information I can’t get my hands on here in the states; whereas a certain international correspondent with extensive resources in Europe might have a better chance.”
“Oh.” Eduardo nodded as he made himself comfortable at his desk. “Let’s just say I’m the ‘international correspondent’ who can look under particular rocks and see what crawls out?”
“Exactly!” Lois’ eyes lit up with dangerous fires. The work day had been long and grueling, nonetheless, sharing information with Eduardo about her long planned exposé on Daae got the adrenaline flowing.
“I’m not asking you to spy on DMG…”
“No, not spy… just steal information which will eventually destroy the company,” he said flatly.
Lois let out a breath she was not aware of holding in. She was about to rattle off just why, when Eduardo held up a restraining hand. If there was one thing he intensely disliked about Lois it was her propensity to babble.
“But you have to understand Perry’s sending me on a long-term assignment in our London office. Not Zurich where DMG is headquartered.”
His companion’s face fell. “What? How are you supposed to help me with this investigation from London?”
“Relax. DMG is based in Switzerland. My assignment requires me to travel back and forth to Zurich, no reason why I can’t work on *both* assignments. Of course, yours will be in the background”
“Oh. Care to tell me what you’re working on?”
“Sorry Lois.” The set of his jaw and the tone of Eduardo’s voice, telegraphed immediately that the subject was closed. Eduardo’s reputation was built on the trust and discretion he had developed over the years with people. It was the primary reason Lois was willing to reveal her plans for Gregory Daae. Swallowing her curiosity, she simply nodded and said. “OK, when do you leave?”
“I’m scheduled on the ‘redeye’ flight to London out of Larkin Airport next Monday morning. If you can provide me with an overview of this…uh, material,” he said as he was gesturing towards the bulging accordion file. “So I know where to start.”
 
