Thanks to Labby for betareading this. Sorry I'm so erractic with posting. MY RL is pretty crazy right now. But I am determined to finish. Hope this isn't dragging too much. All feedback appreciated.
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As Lois walked into the press room, she felt her anger give way to comfort. Surveying the room, she noted how little had seemed to change in this room in the time she had worked at the Planet. Perhaps little had changed in it in the last fifty years, she thought with a snort. She had spent numerous hours in this room covering court cases for the Planet, and she knew its aura well. It seemed that neither the mayor nor the city council wanted to be guilty of wasting tax dollars on ammenities for the press. Well, perhaps the internet connection to the computer in the far corner was a change in recent memory. The large, oak rolltop desk in the opposite corner, however, spoke of much longer days gone by.
As did the table in the middle of the room, which still held three black phones with *cords*. <At least they' re not rotary dial! Boy, that would be fun, trying to get a number dialed when you're calling a story in a hurry.>
Of course, most of her news cohorts carried cell phones, though she had still to replace the last one she'd damaged covering a building fire over on Fourteenth street. It had been the twelfth one she'd destroyed in her last year at the Planet, and even Perry had met opposition from the white shirts upstairs in getting her a replacement phone that last time. Something about budget cuts.
Lois had not really paid attention to that part. All she knew was if they wanted her to dangle above the jaws of death to get the front page stories, those stuffed shirts should have expected a few incidental expenses along the way.
As it was, Clark had a pager but he was nowhere in sight. And she had borrowed Dan's when she needed one over the last few months, never finding the time to actually go find a good cell plan and get her own. So she was left with the archaic technology at hand.
The stench of day-old coffee and cigar smoke hung in the air-- a smell that for Lois seemed warm and inviting. Noting the familiar faces around the table in the center of the room, playing cards, Lois smiled. Even the sight of Linda King's mug, its owner currently employed by the Metropolis Star, didn't seem to put her off today. Around Linda sat Maury Summers, Bill Whitman, and Joe Melton.
Lois noted that this really was a big story if three Kerth winners were sitting in here waiting for whatever was happening next. All of them, apart from Linda, were pretty upstanding guys.
Making her entrance, Lois piped up, “Long time, no see, fellas. Though in your case, Linda, I 'd say it wasn't long enough.” Her smile magnified when she realized the shock value her appearance was having on Linda, as well as the obvious pleasure her presence was for the other newshounds.
Bill spoke first. “Lois Lane, in the flesh! So you're finally back in business! What'd I tell you, boys? Lois Lane could never walk away from news. This here is a lady with ink in her veins. So, does Clark know you're back from the dead, as it were?”
Linda just eyed her warily with a mischievous glint.
“He knows I'm here today, if that's what you mean. I hate to disappoint you fine folks, but this is my last story. I've decided to settle down. See this ring on my finger? It's an engagement ring. And at four o clock this afternoon I'm leaving you goons in this crazy rat race for the whole American dream, picket fence and all.”
Pluckily, she watched them as their eyebrows rose to their prospective hairlines.
For Maury that was a long trip, as he suffered from male pattern baldness and a receding hairline.
Dropping a card on the table and reaching into a draw pile, Maury questioned, “So what brings you-- a true suburbanite-” At this point, he held back a chuckle, as did the other members of the press around him. "-to our fair and modern press room? Surely not the great coffee or the panoramic view?”
Lois wandered idly to the window and looked across the street toward the circus frenzy of protesters and cameras. Her lips twitched upwards as she spoke. “As illustrious as that view is, and especially the coffee, I confess that's not it. I'm here to cover one last story for the Planet—the Jeffers case. Any of you feel compelled to share any of the juicy details?”
Joe looked at his cards in disgust, before folding. “I fold. Well, Lois, it's all pretty much old news, except the execution tomorrow. Jeffers is a former accountant from LuthorCorp, works there twenty years, gets fired due to cutbacks. Then he goes out to park listening to preachers on soapboxes, goes looney tunes, shoots Hispanic police officer. Been interviewed by two shrinks— both say he's sane. Last one tonight—some Dieter guy- will probably confirm it again. Tomorrow morning, guy gets the chair."
Noting her interest in the frenzy outside, he added, "They're holding him across the street in lockdown, no interviews allowed.”
At that moment the lights flickered momentarily. Joe shrugged when they came on again. “Looks like they're already doing the test run on the juice for tomorrow's big event.”
Lois nodded solemnly. “Thanks, Joe. That helps me a lot. It was great talking to you guys again, after all this time. You too Linda."
Before Linda could quip back, Lois was walking out the door, finishing her comment. “*Not* talking to you, that is. After all this time, that was fun, too."
Lois had an interview to get, and she had never let silly things like rules stop her before. So she wasn't starting now.
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<I did it again! Another Lane and Kent exclusive!> was the thought that flittered across Lois's brain as she reentered the now vacated press room forty-five minutes later.
Apparently, the Kerth-winning poker committee had been required in some other part of town, probably chasing the sirens she'd heard from inside the jail that had been headed toward the south end of town. She wondered what all the excitement was about, as three or four fire engines—she guessed from the sound of the sirens- had apparently been called to the scene.
Which was all the better for her, really. The last thing she really wanted was a nosy Linda King standing over her shoulder as she typed, and making insinuations about Clark's soon-to-be availability on the dating scene. Certainly, Clark made her see five shades of red with his lame lies. But when it came to it, she didn't like the idea of poor Clark Kent being taken in by a cheap trick like Linda. He was just so naïve when it came to that kind of woman. Sure, Lois had called him a playboy. But in her heart, she had known that wasn't true.
The interview had definitely been a piece of cake. First, Gus had been guarding the prisoner. Gus was a couple years younger than Lois, and they knew each other pretty well. Gus was a worrywart, but he was also a pushover for the Lane charm. So usually, all it took was tickets to a Metro Tigers game or a twenty she'd pretend to drop and then ask if it was his. At that point, he'd smile and tell her she had twenty minutes. Which is exactly what had happened earlier.
After she strode into the room where Jeffers was kept, she had studied him. Chris Jeffers was a gaunt man, with oily brown hair and a little mustache. He prowled his cage like a dog at the pound, anxious and scared. He walked in circles, staring at the ground and mumbling to himself while he alternately rubbed his chin in his hands and raked his fingers through unkempt hair. While the whacko alarm bells were ringing for all they could muster, there was definitely nothing to alert her that he was a homocidal menace to society. She had interviewed all types of criminals, and something about him just didn't fit the bill.
After waiting to be noticed for all of one minute, Lois took the seat outside of his cell.
“Mr. Jeffers, I'm Lois Lane. Of the Daily Planet. I wondered if I might speak to you.”
Immediately, Jeffers came out of his reverie. Smiling agitatedly, he pulled his own chair to the edge of the bars and sat across from her.
“Good evening, Mrs. Lane. Why would you want to speak to me? I'm going to die tomorrow. Least, that's what Gus says. Have you met Gus? He's nice. Gus.” The last part almost seemed intelligible, as he spoke more quietly and to himself.
Lois continued. “Yes, Gus is nice. But I was wondering if you could tell me about your job at LutherTechnologies, Mr. Jeffers. What did you do?”
“Oh, I was an accountant. You know, a number cruncher. I worked there for twenty years. Worked long hours, even did some of the company's tax work. Mr. Luthor even gave me a raise last year. And then—zip! No more. Fired. I was a pretty good accountant. I'm not such a good criminal. I don't want to die.”
“And after you lost your job, then what?”
“Well, I couldn't find another job. My wife left me. I lost my home. I started sleeping out in the park. That's where I heard all the people talking about things.”
“What kinds of things?”
“You know, men on the soapboxes telling their ideas about the way things ought to be. This one guy talked all the time about 'production for use'.”
“Really? That sounds intriguing. What does it mean?”
“Just that things should be used for what they're made for. Like a cup is made for drinking out of.”
The cogs in Lois' mind were turning. “What about guns, Mr. Jeffers?”
Mr. Jeffers thought for a moment, and then a light gleamed in his eyes. “ Yeah! That's it, Mrs. Lane! You really get it! That's exactly what I was thinking when I held that gun...production for use!”
At this point, Lois had all she needed to show Jeffer's insanity. Within a few minutes, Lois had finished up the interview. Satisfied, Lois had then walked out and back to the press room to meet Clark.
When she realized Clark was still MIA, she had sat down at the computer and begun to type.
She was oblivious for a period of time, and well into typing her story, when her concentration was interrupted by two sounds. One was footsteps in the hall outside the press room. The other was a phone ringing on the table in the center of the room.
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(scene break)
