Well,
This is the first part of my new fanfic....I'm real scared and unease with posting it so soon, but if I don't do it, I have this feeling I'll never finish writing it, so...
The idea of the Baby Rage series (apart from trying to keep up on LabRat’s “Challenging Challenges”) is to turn all the readers that feel up to it into private detectives. Your mission is to find out the identity of both the murderer and the one ordering it. The title of the part also gives you a ‘not very subtle’ hint on which LC character is gonna play the (headless?) corpse.
Carole
PS: A huge thanks to Saskia and Anna-B-the-Greek for BRing this in no time. Your comments were of great help and of the sharp kind.
Well...enough babbling, Now, you’re on!
***
Note: Parts of Ellen’s first email and email interludes concept inspired by ‘The Boy Next Door’, a Meggin Cabot novel. The ‘Intestine guy’ reference is taken from the french movie “Filles Uniques”.
< > denotes character’s inner thoughts
@@@ indicates the beginning and closing of an email section.
***
THE BABY RAGE SERIES
By Cyad
Part One : Pick yourself a nice little grave
Metropolis, Dec. 22nd, 2003
It was one of those cold and windy winter nights that you could only find in Metropolis, New Troy. The kind that makes you want to stay at home, warmly tucked in your bed with a good book, your back comfortably resting on a thick but cozy pillow. But let’s go straight to the point.
It was a really dark, ideal for someone who had to be in Suicide Slum at midnight. As a matter of fact, at 11.59 pm and 58 seconds, the area was awfully deserted and silent. Two seconds later however, a shrill sound pierced the obscurity. The rush of running footsteps echoed on the pavement, immediately followed by a ‘click’.
“Allo?”
“I see you found the phone booth.”
“I did.”
“What time is it?”
“Between night and day.”
“Okay. How much?”
“Usually 500,000 dollars in cash. Fifty per cent now, fifty once the job’s done. But that depends on who you want me to take care of and how.”
“I want you to have an ‘appointment’ with Lois Lane. I leave the ‘when’ and ‘how’ up to you. The neater, the better… but don’t feel obliged.”
There was an awkward silence before the reply finally came out.
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Hurry up, and keep Superman out of the way.”
*****
The previous day…
Lois literally danced from Perry’s office to her desk, smiling. ‘Showing teeth’ was a more appropriate term, for the killing smile she was presenting the entire newsroom with, would have relegate any ‘Ultra Bright’ commercial to the ‘Funerals ‘r’ us’ category.
<A sunny morning, a ‘Lane & Kent’ article on the Planet’s front page, a wonderful husband and another Kerth nomination for my ‘Metropolis New Law Enforcement Policy’ string of articles, a stuffed grizzly bear framed by a red and a yellow balloon, sitting in the middle of my desk, just behind a smoking Daily Planet coffee… life is almost perfect,> she thought, her gaze lingering on Clark’s desk. No sign of her partner so far, but the coffee mug and his empty desk were clear indications that non-journalistic activities might be keeping him busy.
<Wait a minute! A grizzly bear and balloons?!?!?!?!?>
“Jimmy!! What’s wrong with my desk?” she shouted without even waiting for a reply.
“’Morning, beautiful,” Clark told her, discreetly adjusting his tie before gesturing towards her desk.
“Aww, thanks! That’s so…sweet,” she replied unconvinced, picking up the stuffed bear before immediately nestling it back between the balloons. Clark shot her his typical ‘you’re welcome’ smile before hopping to his desk.
Arching an eyebrow, Lois took pain in sipping her coffee. Something was up. Or Clark was up to something. Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, she decided to compose an email.
After a few minutes, she discreetly hit the ‘send’ button before closing the Internet window after ‘the message has been sent to…’ successfully showed up on her screen.
***
10.00 am.
Eastwards from Metropolis, studyholic Lucy Lane was just back from an unusual night-clubbing feast. One of her Metropolis University classmates was getting married next week, and her whole psychology class had set up a party to celebrate and wish her well.
Considering the hour, she decided to check her email before going to sleep. ‘Inbox 10’ the screen read after a few minutes. Noticing a familiar email addy, she double-clicked on the last incoming message, and began to read.
@@@
To: lucylane@metu.net
From: loislane@dailyplanet.com
Subject: I need to talk, doc stuff
Date: 21 Dec 1999 10:00:00
Hi Luce,
Hope you’re okay since our last email.
Thanks in advance for your help ‘cause I really need to talk to someone, and guess who I picked up?
I don’t want to bother Clark with this, he’s acting kind of strange lately. So I hope you’re okay with the ‘don’t tell Clark’ part of the thing. If not, just tell me to mind my own business, I won’t bother. Okay I will, ‘cause you’re the only one I can trust with this.
To be honest, I’m a bit nervous about my afternoon appointment at Metropolis Hospital (you know how much I like hospitals). I don’t get why Dr.Pezzoni wants to see me again. I mean, three appointments in two weeks just for a ‘simple round of exams’? How corny is that? Does he think I’m galactically stupid?
Well, I guess here’s your chance to analyze my psychobabbles, if such a thing is ever possible! That would make a good title for your thesis, don’t you think? “Overbabbling: the Lois Lane syndrom.”
Cya and take care,
Lois
PS: BTW, thanks for watering the ficus this weekend, seems I definitely owe you one
. How about dinner at Mike’s? There’s something I’d like to tell you.
PPS: And how was your date with…what’s his name? Nick?
@@@
Knowing how Lois could go paranoid on health subjects and how she hated hospitals, Lucy immediately sent a reply before dropping herself on her coach, instantly drifting off to sleep.
***
Lois and Clark were just out of the morning staff meeting. Perry had assigned them on the Mayor’s press conference, that should take at noon in the City Hall Press Room. Reaching her desk, Lois put on her jacket and fetched her purse. Both star reporters were about to leave when Lois spotted the blinking ‘incoming email’ sign on her computer screen.
“Ready?” Clark inquired.
“Er…go ahead, there’s one last thing I have to ch… duty calls?” She wondered at his familiar absent look.
“Check that email, I’ll be back before you can say ‘Dinky Toys,’” he replied, rushing for the storage room.
<Dinky…? What the hell is wrong with him?>
“Never mind,” Lois replied aloud before double-clicking the blinking icon, anxiously scrolling through her sister’s reply.
@@@
To: loislane@dailyplanet.com
From: lucylane@metu.net
Subject: Re: I need to talk, doc thing (the gorgeous one?)
Date: 21 Dec 1999 10:27:50
Hey Sis!
I’m fine! I’m just back from Rebecca’s party, you know, I told you about it. And when I say just back, I really mean it! Oh, just for your record, Nick’s yesterday’s news. It’s Steve now!
You’re more than welcome, even for the ficus… and don’t worry, I won’t tell Clark
Still, what d’you mean by “acting strange”? Fear nothing, I won’t analyze him either, but LOL on your thesis subject prop! I might give it a try.
About your appointment, don’t go paranoid on this, I’m sure Dr.Pezzoni (aww, then it’s the librarian looking one <g>) is getting a bit overzealous, that’s all. Dinner at Mike’s has potential and I’m really curious about this thing you wanna show me, so… name the date and the hour, and I’ll be there!
‘night, er…morning…Cya
Love, Lucy
PS: Call me as soon as you’re back from your Doc, it’ll make a good wake up call!
@@@
Lois couldn’t help but smile at her sister’s reply. She checked her watch. Five minutes and Clark still seemed caught up with Superactivities.
<He’ll join me at the City Hall,> she decided, before resolutely heading to the elevator.
...tbc...
