Authour's note: So i had this "radical" idea last week to go jet sking with a couple of my friends. I've never been on a jet ski, and lets just say i'll never go on one again. long story short compound fracture in my left wrist hair line fracture on my collar bone. with that in mind i edited most of this chapter one handed, so be kind...
feedback: is neccasary for my muses survival. if it doesnt' eat it get's really grouchy.
*****
“So you’re THE Lois Lane?” Lois tried not to laugh at the gum smacking paramedic who eyed her with more then a passing interest.
“That’s what it says on my birth certificate anyhow”
Joey, for that’s what his name tag read, chewed thoughtfully on his red capped pen. Self consciously she shifted to the edge of her stretcher. As if police questioning hadn’t been enough, Detective Leo had all but manhandled her into the ambulance. She didn’t to go to any hospital, but according to Leo she might have concussion. It didn’t help her cause any when one of the fire men told the lead paramedic about her episode earlier.
“Well at least you won’t be lonesome. I heard a famous detective got shanked in an alley earlier.”
“What detective?” Lois asked, hoping that conversation would keep the feeling of unease creeping over her at bay.
“Sterling, or Stalling…oh it was Steele. Remington Steele of Los Angeles. He’s in town on some big case.” Joey inched a bit closer taking Lois’s wrist in his hand “Gotta check your pulse” he said, with a leer.
Lois’s snatched her wrist back lightning fast when he’d completed his task. For some reason she’d thought he would have left a trail of slime on her person.
“I heard he might not make it through the night. My partner brought him in. he told me the guy was mumbling all sorts of nonsense about a guy named Daniel, and some broad named Mildred. Said there was lots of blood…said he never seen a guy bleed so much”
Lois could have sworn his eyes lit up with morbid fascination with his last sentence. She was pretty certain the guy wouldn’t try to hurt her, but he still creeped her out.
“So…you were in an explosion huh? What happened?”
“The police really aren’t sure. They thing it was arson.” She looked out the tiny window to her left, reluctant to make eye contact.
“Arson huh? Don’t get many of those in that neighborhood. You think maybe it was a hit?”
Again Lois balked at the idea of anyone trying to harm Clark, but she couldn’t ignore the evidence in front of her. The incendiary device found on the scene was conclusive with a pressure sensitive explosive. That coupled with heat of the fire was enough evidence to conclude that someone was trying to kill her partner. The question was who and why?
Lois passed a weary hand through her mussed hair and, winced as she encountered a bump. No doubt obtained when she dove for her life onto the pavement.
“We’re almost there. You might wanna lie down. It looks bad if we bring concussion patients in sittin up straight.” He chuckled wryly “just stay awake. Wouldn’t want you bite the dust in you sleep.”
Reluctantly Lois took his advice. She was pretty sore, and sitting up wasn’t helping anything.
A few moments later the ambulance came to a sudden halt, and the back doors opened revealing two hospital attendants ready to wheel her to the admissions desk.
“What happened to Lars?” the first attendant asked as he helped Joey move the stretcher to the side entrance of the hospital.
“His wife was sick; Janice called me in to sub for him. Would you believe today is my only day off this week. “
“Man that sucks.” The second man said, “Well we can take it from, you should probably be getting back to you rounds.”
“You’re right, thanks. Hey take good care of this one.” Joey said with a smirk “She’s a celebrity”
His two compatriots chuckled slightly as they wheeled Lois into the hospital.
Lois glowered at the paramedic as she was carted away. He simply grinned from his seated position in the back of the ambulance. Casually he reached into his pants pocket and retrieved a pack of cigarettes. Flipping open his silver Zippo he gave Lois one last wink and a nod.
****
Jason inhaled deeply on his cigarette as he watched that smarmy reporter wheeled off into the hospital. Pulling on the cuff of his jacket he glanced at the digital face of his watch, a gift from Steele, noting the time as a quarter past midnight.
Nigel would be checking on him soon. That was if he wasn’t too busy licking the boss’s boots. That damn lackey, he though flicking ashes into the street. Nigel would get what was coming to him soon enough, but he had more important things to do now.
At this very moment the object of his ultimate revenge was little more then a vegetable. In a word helpless. And now would be the perfect opportunity to do away with Steele once and for all. But, Jason didn’t just want Steele dead. He wanted him humiliate, exposed for the fraud her truly was, and laid bare for the millions of people who loved an adored him to see.
Snubbing his cigarette out on the side of the ambulance he stood. His uniform had become quite uncomfortable, as it was two sizes to small for him. He quickly unzipped the full body suit and kicked it into the gutter. With the current the way it was, his impromptu disguise would be in Hobbes bay by morning—reunited once again with their owner.
Gathering his wits about him he strolled down the street casually admiring the lights and sounds of the city, when at last he reached his destination. The public phone booth on the corner of 5th and Sullivan wasn’t anything special. The door was half hanging on its hinges, and the glass had more then its fair share of cracks. But the aesthetics of the device were of little concern to its intended user.
From the depths of his coat pocket Jason removed two shiny twenty-five cent pieces and pushed them into the slot.
Flipping open the smooth leather of Clark Kent’s wallet he removed one miniature rectangle of paper from its confines. The front proudly proclaimed “Clark Kent Investigative Reporter”. To the side, was a small emblem, resembling the giant globe atop the Daily Planet building. Just beneath that was a number. Smoothly he dialed the appropriate digits, and listened to the three rings that followed. Then he heard a slight click and a cheerful voice followed:
“This is Clark Kent. I’m not in right now but If you’ll leave you name and number I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks”
Clearing his throat Jason began to relate his message. A message that would signal the beginning of the end for Remington Steele.
