Part Four
It was early in the morning when Lois exited the elevator, grateful to once again breathe in burnt coffee, printer’s ink and pencil shavings. She had just returned from a three-week long investigation of a tragic mining accident in the back hills of West Virginia and the well-known scents of the newsroom were heavenly. After living in the aged coal miner community of Beaver Creek, it was a relief to return to the vibrant pulse of Metropolis. Covering the dangerous conditions these brave men – and their families - endured every day of their lives was an eye opener. As much as she respected and admired their determination to strive, indeed thrive under such conditions, living beneath the constant haze of coal dust was too much for her to endure.
When Lois returned to the comforts of her apartment, she spent the evening pampering herself; determined to wash the grime out of her hair, skin and nails.
As she quick stepped down the ramp, pas the well-known coffee station littered with white ceramic mugs, wooden stirrers, pink sugar packets and stale doughnuts she sensed immediately that something was out of kilter. Eduardo’s desk had been moved closer to hers. All his personal items such as his nameplate, breathtaking pictures of Madrid at sunset and favorite coffee mug were gone. They were replaced by a black goose neck lamp, a photo of the Great Wall of China and a white mug with the words “Smallville Gazette” stenciled in bold, black font.
“Hey Catherine! Why did Eduardo’s desk get moved closer to mine? Whose stuff is that anyway?” She asked, with a nervous lump in her throat.
Her friend responded, “Perry thought it was best to give Eduardo’s desk to a fulltime employee. So the new guy’s got it.”
Lois was greatly relieved, nothing terrible had happened to her friend, but to have his desk taken over by someone else – especially a rookie - was unacceptable. She asked Catherine while emphasizing every word. “What. New. Guy.”
Before Catherine could speak a gruff voice rumbled over the bullpen,
“The new reporter on the city desk … Clark Kent.” Perry announced as he came out of his office. “My old friend, Professor Dade Carson at Kansas State, gave him a very good reference. Since Meyers is on maternity leave and Mitch Ryder needed Applegate on the nightshift, you can’t handle the desk alone.”
“Come again?” Lois said as she turned around.
“Listen. I know you and Eduardo collaborated together on occasion, but I can’t keep a desk empty while he’s on assignment in London.”
This was too much; first Eduardo's desk had been given to a rookie and this same rookie was going to work with her on the city desk? What happened to seasoning a new hire? He had to be some kind of a hotshot writer to leapfrog over that time-honored process. Stunned, she shot back, “Chief! That’s not fair! Besides, what if Eduardo just drops in? He’s famous for that! Why can’t we save his desk empty until he comes back?”
The Managing Editor made a wide gesture to encompass the entire newsroom. “If you care to notice, the bullpen ain’t exactly over flowing with extra space. Besides, Kent has a fresh writing style. Better than that blunt instrument you like to sometimes refer to as ‘writing’. You two are working together as partners until Eduardo comes back.”
Lois retorted, “Chief, are you kidding me! Partner with a rookie? On the city beat? Isn’t this a little soon? Besides, that ‘blunt instrument’ has won this paper two Kerth awards!”
“Yeah, but what have you done for the paper lately?” Perry responded in his easy southern drawl.
Lois drew in a sharp breath in order to calm down. Maybe this might turn out to be a good thing, someone to help shoulder the load of shifting through endless mountains of paperwork. After all, working so hard these past few weeks had kept her out of the gym. Abruptly the sound of the aged elevator doors open and out stepped the most gorgeous example of masculinity she had seen in a long time. He wore an out-of-date navy blue suit which had seen better days, but the brilliant white shirt and outrageous purple and yellow tie made up for the suit. She looked down at his old shoes and noted they had been buffed to a spit polish shine. This quick observation told Lois he took pride in being neat and tidy, which was more than what she could say for a number of men in Metropolis these days.
“Oh my…,” she whispered reverently. “Hubba. Hubba.”
Catherine Grant came over to her side and said sotto voce, “Down girl. He’s got a keeper.”
Lois was about to ask who, when she noticed a petite blonde with shrewd blue eyes pop out the elevator and take the hunk’s hand. She seemed to be reminding him of something very important. Her pointed tone of voice and body language gave off a definite aura of ‘Keep Off, He’s Mine.’
<Keeper indeed,> Lois thought with a mental sigh. <She must be the girlfriend.>
Watching the attractive couple make their way down the ramp, Lois sensed she had seen this handsome young man before. But for the life of her, she could not place where or when.
As the young man came towards her, he locked eyes with Lois; his deep, soulful brown orbs seemed to light up with recognition. But the blonde pulled his hand and just as swiftly, the light faded away.
<Hrumph! This is the guy taking Eduardo’s place? What would the adventure seeking correspondent think of the man sitting at his old desk? Clearly Kent let his girlfriend walk all over him. Great, so much for the Hotshot journalist. This is the perfect start to another day at the Daily Planet>.
Perry’s deep southern drawl cut through her thoughts. “Lois Lane, meet Clark Kent, the newest addition to the newsroom.” The young man reached over and happily shook her hand; the shy smile brought warmth to his face. Just as he was about to speak, the blonde noisily cleared her throat and glared at Perry.
“Oh yes… huh, this is… Lana Lang.” There was a note of disapproval in Perry’s voice. A tone usually reserved for Ralph or the suits upstairs when they interfered with the day-to-day routine of running the newspaper.
Lana picked up on the tone as well; she turned towards Perry and probably would have given the older man a withering glare if he were not Clark’s employer. Instead she turned away from Perry and Lois, in effect dismissing them and focused her attention on Clark and began issuing orders.
“Now don’t forget, Mother and Daddy are meeting us for dinner tonight at Luigi’s. It’s important we be there on time. He wants to tell us about the announcement at the museum! Honestly this is a big moment for him and I’m glad to be his assistant, but I really miss working in the digs.”
“Digs?” Lois enquired politely
Ms. Lang looked at Lois as if she had just gotten off the last bus from the Moon. “Yes, my Father is Prof. Bertram Lang the Archeologist. He’s currently working for the Metropolis Museum specializing in French history specifically Napoleon Bonaparte, you know, the short man who became Emperor of France? Right now, we are working on creating an exhibit depicting Napoleon’s base camp at Waterloo; there will be four other scenes or tableaus within the exhibit as well.”
“Oh.” Lois responded. The closest she came to digging anything were old news file from the Daily Planet’s morgue.
Lana raised one disapproving eyebrow as if she thought Lois was an uneducated bore. She decided to ignore her and returned her attention to Clark; any further discussion with either Lois or Perry was clearly at an end.
Perry, obliviously used to Lana’s rudeness, glanced at Lois and put his hands up as if to say, “Glad I don’t have to live with her!” He walked away and returned to his office. Lois, taking the hint retreated to her own desk and began her morning routine of starting up her computer. Meanwhile, she surreptitiously kept an eye at Clark’s desk.
***
Lana, pleased the others were gone, reached into her large canvas tote bag, pulled out a big, square blue gift box with a white bow and placed it in his hands. “Honey, I got just the thing for your desk. Open it!” Lana was bouncing on her tiptoes in anticipation.
He smiled graciously and tore the blue wrapping off, then opened the box which held a large gold picture frame containing a color photo of Lana, her left hand touching her face and on the ring finger was Clark’s college ring. He looked down at her and she grinned happily.
“Isn’t it just perfect?” Before he could answer she looked at her watch and said, “It’s getting late, I need to get to work.” She started to walk away and added, “Don’t forget, on the steps of the museum at 6:00pm sharp. You know how Daddy hates to wait.”
Her boyfriend nodded in response, still holding the picture and said,
“Fine Lana.”
Secure in the knowledge he would be on time; Lana walked up the ramp and caught the elevator.
Lois looked on sadly and muttered under her breath, “Boy, she’s done everything except tattoo her name on his forehead. Poor man!”
She turned and sat down at her desk. If she had stayed a split second longer, the blush covering Clark’s face would have been evident, although it would have been impossible for a normal person to have heard her comment.
Just then Jack ran into the newsroom yelling, “Heads up people, there’s a bank robbery that’s turned into a standoff over on First Avenue and Montrose.”
Lois jumped up from her chair. “I’m on it!”
Perry, hearing the commotion came out of his office and roared.
“Lane! You and Jack cover this story! Oh yeah, take Kent with you.”
Lois was already halfway up the ramp with Jack behind her when she heard Perry. She whirled around and shouted, “Chief! We can handle this!” The absolute last thing she needed or wanted was to work with a rookie in a situation like this one.
“No Lois, Kent goes with you. It’s time he learned from the best, which as you so often tell me is yourself.”
Lois watched as Clark put down the picture frame and quickly climbed the ramp and stood before her. Jack was at the elevator hopping from one foot to another, eager to get started. She felt boxed in, but decided now was not the time to argue. Turning to her ‘new’ partner she said, “Come on Kansas. See if you can keep up. Oh and remember; Jack takes the pictures, I ask the questions and you observe.”
The object of her barb bowed his head in acquiescence and mumbled, “Uh, I’ll try Ms. Lane.”
"Great, stand-offs could change into a firefight in a split second. I don't want any of us getting lost or hurt."
He smiled at her. A smile a brilliant and warm as the state he came from. "Why, thank you Ms. Lane. But I can look after myself."
Lois felt something lurch in her heart, she could really get to like this man. <Careful girl! He has someone in his life.> So in response she said, "Kent, if I let anything happen to you, Perry will have both me and Jack in the doghouse for at least a month! That ain't gonna happen!"
***
The standoff could have very well lasted for hours, except for one strange thing: the robber’s gun became too hot for his hand. He dropped it and the bank’s security guard was able to subdue him. Than when the police went searching for the gun it had mysteriously vanished.
“That’s a pretty odd story; wonder what really happened to the guy’s weapon?” Jack said to Lois as he snapped pictures of the robber, who was holding an icepack to his burned hand, being hauled away by the police.
“Who knows, Henderson and his buddies better find it or this guy is going to walk. Speaking of disappearing, where’s Kent?” Lois asked, worried that he might have been injured.
Suddenly Clark materialized besides the duo and said, “Right here. Who’s going to walk where?”
Not sure what to make of his sudden appearance, Lois said, “It’s high time you showed up. Never mind the perpetrator, where have *you* been while Jack and I were following this whole thing?”
“Huh, I… I’m not comfortable around loud noises and guns… “
Jack, after his own misadventure with a misfiring weapon, was not about to disagree, but he still couldn’t keep the tone of disbelief out of his voice when he said, “Say what?”
Ignoring his comment, Clark said, “Uh, I might have missed the beginning, but not the end. I was inside the bank when Henderson located the gun and even managed to get a quote from him and the security guard. Look, maybe we uh, should compare notes on the way back to the bullpen and then write up the account. Jack, don’t you have to get those pictures developed before evening deadline?”
Lois looked the rookie up and down and thought. <Great! What happened to letting me ask all the questions? But at least he shows some initiative and isn’t depending on me for everything>
The article depicting the bank standoff was run in the Daily Planet’s evening edition. Lois and Clark’s collaboration and the unusual circumstances of the robber’s capture made it sing.
***
After that first somewhat rocky start, the professional partnership between Lois and Clark, developed into something that surprised the bullpen and even Perry. They wrote articles which eclipsed anything done between Lois and Eduardo. The paper’s circulation was guaranteed to increase whenever their bylines appeared above the fold. Perry, the suits upstairs and the publisher, James Olsen were pleased with the results.
Despite their success, Lois was always a little wary of the ‘Hack from Nowheresville’. Ever since he showed up, a lot of things take place around Metropolis that really should not have happened.
Or to put it bluntly things *didn’t* happened that should have.
Massive highway car crashes, muggings and the occasional airplane mishap never took place. The witnesses from these *happenings* all said the same thing: They were either being attacked and unexpectedly the attackers were on the ground out cold. A car out of control made a complete and safe stop. An airplane with engine failure, would abruptly right itself and land safely.
Slowly, but steadily Metropolis was becoming the safest city in the country. There were a number of times the reporting duo and their photographer sidekick were covering a particular news event when something went wrong and invariably ‘Kansas’, Lois’ nickname for Clark, would suddenly vanish.
After one such mishap, followed by her partner’s disappearance, Lois mused about him, <He’s around when things happen, than he’s not around when they happen. Maybe he’s the one that makes them ‘unhappen’?> Lois chuckled. <Where did *that* thought come from? I must be going crazy, how could a guy like Kansas be anything but a mild-mannered reporter from the Midwest?> Nonetheless the odd occurrences continued and Lois’ intuition worked subconsciously to make sense of the matter.
Lana Lang unfortunately proved to be a constant irritant; she always wanted to know when Clark was on assignment with Lois or any female member of the Planet’s staff. Perry patiently tolerated her presence in the bullpen, but Clark was dreading the day when he would be called into the Managing Editor’s office for a ‘painful conversation’ about his girlfriend.
But he was also intrigued by Lois Lane. She was a tornado of energy.
***
Six months had passed since Lane and Kent had teamed up. When out of the blue around quitting time, Lois asked a question of her partner,
“Hey Clark… Do you have a tuxedo?”
Clark looked up suspiciously and responded, “No. But renting one shouldn’t be a problem. Why?”
Lois rolled her eyes impatiently. “Tomorrow night Lex and Arianna Luthor are hosting their annual White Orchid Ball. It’s only the biggest social event in Metropolis second only to the Metropolis museum’s costume exhibit gala. Daily Planet reporters always cover it.”
“My usual date for these things, Mitchell Samuels, has another one of his ‘colds’. I need an escort and since you work for the Planet you might as well come along.”
“Escort? But … but what about Lana? Does she get an invitation?” Clark asked.
“Look Kansas, we’re not getting married. This. Is. Work. Want to prove yourself to Perry?” As soon as the words tripped over her lips she regretted them. Isn’t that what she said to Jack before that awful bank robbery last year? They were attending a fancy dress ball, with elegant music, sinfully delicious food and rubbing shoulders with the city’s upper crust. This was not a back alley shootout. <Think caviar, not Kevlar.> She carefully put the thought aside; not wishing to dredge up unpleasant memories. She looked at Kent; who was more curious than worried, now that he knew what was going on.. Yet somehow, despite his easygoing personality, he was definitely learning to hold his own with her.
“Yes, of course.” He responded.
“Good! Because Perry only provided a limited number of invitations, Jack has one and I’m not staying home with my goldfish and letting my sometime partner bring his possessive girlfriend and write another gooey puff piece about the ‘incredibly’ wealthy Luthors.”
Clark stared hard at her, the tone of his voice steely, “Lana is not possessive.”
Ignoring the intensity of his stare and voice, Lois responded, “Fine! Here’s a gold-plated-with-diamond-studs opportunity to prove me and *everybody* in the newsroom wrong. Meet me at the LexCorp lobby tomorrow at eight o’clock sharp!” With those words she handed him a heavy gold envelope, written on the front in graceful blue ink calligraphy, White Orchid Ball.
Before he could say thank you, she snatched a pencil off his desk and yanked a sheet of paper off a notepad. She scribbled while talking rapidly. “If you need help with evening clothes, Maxim’s is a good choice; plenty of the Daily Planet’s reporters get their tuxedo rentals from them. Tell Remy I sent you over. He owes me a favor or two.”
“Uh, thanks Lois. It’s a dat…deal.” Clark wanted to bite his tongue. <Yikes! Why did I say *that*?>
“Wonderful. Remember this isn’t the prom at Smallville High. Don’t wear a powder blue tuxedo, otherwise I and the rest of the journalists attending will ignore you and Arianna Carlin-Luthor is libel to have security throw you out for commenting a crime against fashion.” With those words, Lois went back to her desk shut down her computer and prepared to depart for the evening.
Lois shook her head and thought. <I really have him on the ropes. He had proven himself over the past few months; it was probably time to back down on the Mad Dog Lane treatment. Clark Kent was a decent journalist and – dare she say it – a real gentleman. He was nothing like Claude. Maybe after she observed him at the White Orchid Ball, she should start treating him better. After all, didn’t she promise herself to be kind to her co-workers? So why give this one so much grief? Was she jealous of Lana? No that was crazy!> To prove it to herself as a final word she said, “Right. And just so Ms. Dairy Queen doesn’t get the wrong idea, remind her Jack is coming along as well to take pictures.” With that parting shot, Lois picked up her briefcase and walked up the ramp.
Catherine watched the exchange from her desk. Although Kent had partnered off and on with Lois for six months, he still had yet to earn her complete respect. From the looks of it, if he didn’t step up to the plate soon, he never would.
***
Clark observed Lois’ commanding stride as she went up the ramp and out of sight. Kansas. She rarely used his real name and the way she talked about Lana – that really bothered him. He gave a mental sigh. Why should it when it was perfectly true? He did permit his girlfriend to run rings around him, but not on *everything*.
Initially she pushed hard for them to move in together, but he had resisted *that* decision. They needed to establish their separate careers before taking such a huge step. So for convenience sake and financial reasons, he remained at Pete’s and she was able to find an apartment not too far from her parents’ townhouse.
When he arrived in Metropolis his finances were in a sad state of affairs. After tramping around the globe for years and working for marginally good newspapers, his bank account was not what it ought to be. He had been forced by necessity and a strong sense of obligation to his late parents to return to Smallville and take a more hands-on approach to managing the farm. Uncle Wayne had looked after the place, but it needed someone to live there and deal with the day-to-day activities – and headaches of running a working farm. Clark had split his time between wearing several hats for the Smallville Gazette and tending the corn and wheat fields.
Fortunately with his unique abilities and Joe’s diligent work, the farm was coming into its own and gradually beginning to make a profit. It was quite an achievement and his bank account was finally getting to a point where he could afford to rent a fairly decent apartment. But he knew that right now, whatever he did find might not be good enough for Lana.
He sighed mentally, <Lana.>
But before he went down that well worn track, his ruminations oddly slide back to Lois, what was that crack about his fashion sense? True, his suits were old, but he had been saving his money. For the past couple of years, clothing was the last thing on his mind. He examined the oversized camel colored sports jacket, the elbows were a little worn and truth be told, the cuffs more than a tad frayed. The white shirt he was wearing had seen better days, the out-of-date tie could only be called garish and that was being charitable. A mental examination of his closet and the answer came back:
Maybe it *was* time to update his wardrobe.
He did need to look more the part of a seasoned professional, not a world tramping hobo. Even though being a slave to fashion was not his style, it might be better to have at least a couple of new suits and casual outfits in his closet and definitely a new pair of shoes. The ones he had on were polished and well maintained, yet they had a lot of mileage on them and regrettably, it showed.
Again his mind took an odd detour, why hadn’t Lana talked to him about his appearance? Could it be because she wanted to be the one who shined in the relationship? Perhaps she was ashamed of his small town ways and wanted to keep him in the background?
Almost from the moment she arrived in Metropolis, Lana had begun to transform, taking on the mannerisms and appearance of her colleagues at the museum. Now the girl from Smallville, Kansas fit completely in the mode of young city professional. He had to admit the shift in clothing was a definite improvement; she was an attractive woman who always wanted to look her best and appreciated male attention.
Yet with all the alterations, she never once asked him to change, to improve along with her. Weren’t they supposed to grow as a couple?
Lois on the other hand, wanted him to be better; she goaded him to improve in a dozen different ways, challenging him at every opportunity to reach his potential as a reporter. Exactly what a good partner does.
He ran his fingers through thick, wavy black hair, that was a little long. It was time to accept her challenge. He was in the big leagues now. No reason to show up at this White Orchid Ball looking like a …a hayseed. Pleased with the decision, he started to dial the number Lois had given him, determined to find the absolute *best* tuxedo he could afford and while he was there he intended to get some pointers on how to put together a wardrobe that wouldn’t break the old wallet.
Jack’s voice cut through the newsroom din. “Hey Clark! There’s a call for you on line two.”
He disconnected the call for Maxim’s and picked up line two. “Hello? Clark Kent speaking.”
The deep baritone voice came easily over the line, “Good afternoon Mr. Kent, my name is Todd Sylvester. I work for a French media company known as TresAx. We have several offices in the states. Are you familiar with the name?”
Scratching his head, Clark wondered why this man was contacting him. Perhaps he was trying to offer him a job? When he first started at the Daily Planet a few journalist ‘head hunter’ firms who were aware of his international reporting background tried to recruit him. But he always turned them down. From the sounds of it, this was more of the same, time to set the record straight, hopefully for the last time.
“Sorry Mr. Sylvester, I’m happy working here ….”
The man on the other line spoke softly, as if he did not wish to overhear. “This is not about a job interview. Perhaps we should meet; my colleagues and I have a fascinating story to tell …”
***
“Good Day Monsieur Templar. I trust you have enjoyed the perks of our association?”
Jasper Templar stood by a bookshelf looking over the leather bound classics such as Moby Dick, by Melville, Tale of Two Cities, by Dickens and War of the Worlds, by H.G. Wells. He angrily grimaced at the last volume than turned and smiled at his employer.
“Yes, it has been an education purchasing stock from Mr. Luthor, but thanks to having access to the vast sources of DMG I am learning a great deal. The acquisition process as you can well imagine has been a slow one, nonetheless the results are extremely encouraging. Would you believe I have a couple of old ladies who are willing to part with their shares of stock for a fraction of what they are worth?” He smiled obsequiously.
Daae observed his employee carefully; he was tall, with thick blonde hair, blue eyes and a ready smile. It was the smile Daae distrusted – the emotion behind it never quite reached the eyes. There was something fraudulent about this fellow he could not quite put his finger on. Thus far Jasper was doing a superb job, so for the time being he would continue being his ‘stalking horse’ and buy up as much of LNN stock as possible. But the moment he stepped out of line …
“How the stocks are obtained doesn’t concern me, but swindling seniors out of their retirement funds will eventually raise a red flag. Purchasing LNN stock for too much, too little or too quickly will create rumors on Wall Street. There is no reason to call attention to yourself and ultimately DMG.”
The other man made a sour face and responded, “Very well Mr. Daae, but really, why take all the spice out of the game?” He handed over a couple of buff folders. “Here are the reports for this month’s acquisitions. We are on target to own forty percent of LNN by the end of this quarter. Soon this limited partnership with Luthor will fade into insignificance, you will hold not just one seat on the board of directors but three.”
Daae took the folders in hand and spent a few moments to study them in earnest; the reports were just as Jasper had presented them. He was pleased. Looking up he said, “It is obvious you are quite good at your job. But in regards to those old women, how many shares do they hold between them?”
The other man shrugged and said, “Twenty apiece.”
“Bien. Be absolutely sure to pay them current market value, no more, no less.”
A word of protest was about to escape his lips when Templar noticed the cool appraisal of Daae’s blue eyes and thought better of it. He quickly said, “Of course. Those forty shares will join the others by the end of the week.”
“Excellent. See yourself out S'il vous plaît.” Daae gestured to the door and without a word Templar departed.
Another door opened and Arianna stepped out. A smug expression on her face, “You see Gregory, I told you Jasper is good at this sort of thing.”
“Oui. Mr. Templar is good at strong arming people who do not need to be bullied. He is also arrogant, conceited and amoral. It’s a wonder he was able to keep his cable company afloat without someone trying to assassinate him. Nevertheless, he is perfect for ‘encouraging’ certain shareholders to relinquish their ownership of LNN stock. It would be very unfortunate for all of us if his overconfidence leads to a serious blunder.”
“Too true. So far our plan is working flawlessly. Are you ready for tonight’s festivities? Don’t allow Lex to steal the spotlight.” She asked.
“That, mon cher, will not happen. History will be made this evening.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late, considering how long it takes for women of fashion to prepare themselves for such an event, you need to leave here now.”
Arianna flustered and her heart skipped a beat. “Of course Gregory, see you tonight.” She walked over and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “I will be wearing Chanel No. Five - it is your favorite,” she whispered huskily.
He did not respond, only watched as Arianna departed his office.
For a brief moment he was a younger man, happily in love, but all too soon the blissful memories were overcome by distressing ones of her decision to marry Lex instead of himself. He spoke aloud with a voice so filled with anguish and hurt no one would have recognized it as the voice of Gregory Daae. “No Arianna, you wounded my spirit a long time ago. Only a fool would allow something like that to come about again. Our ship has sailed once and for all.” He sighed sadly and departed for his townhouse in order to prepare for the ball.
Last edited by Morgana; 04/17/24 06:06 PM.
