The Hottest Team in Town
A Tank-and-Wendy-esque challenge by HappyGirl
You can thank Classicalla for this idea. You’ll recognize most of this from the pilot, of course, but keep your eye out for the twist. In keeping with the spirit of the Tank-and-Wendy challenges of yesteryear, I do have an idea of how to fix this. But I’ll let you all have fun coming up with your own. So, without further ado, here is Part 1:
Perry White looked up from the resume in his hand.
“So, Mr….”
“Kent. Clark Kent.”
“Yes. Kent. Professor Carlton called me about you. I haven’t seen him in…” the sentence trailed off as the editor focused once more on the resume. “Let’s see…editor of the Smallville Press. Smallville…that’s…”
“Kansas,” Clark supplied.
The intercom buzzed, and Mr. White leaned over to listen. Clark could hear the voice of a young man in the background, but he didn’t eavesdrop. His parents had raised him better than that.
“Well, tell him to keep his pants on. And where’s my lunch? If Carlini’s can’t deliver on time, find a place that can.” The editor gave Clark a sigh and a long-suffering look. “I bought a blood pressure monitor last week, you believe it?”
“Paava leaves,” Clark blurted. Oh, great. A job interview is just the place to be giving medical advice. But it was too late now.
“Excuse me?”
“The Yolngu tribe in New Guinea eat paava leaves to relieve stress…puts them in a meditative state. Maybe you should try it.” Oh, yeah, that was going to go over well.
“Uh huh. Sounds like you’ve done some travelling.”
Clark nodded. “I spent some time in a Llamasary in Tibet and with the Sherpas in Nepal. I just got back from Australia.” No need to mention that he’d been studying Dreamtime theory in Aboriginal mythology. Perry White didn’t look like the sort of man who went in for mythology.
“A citizen of the world.” Was the editor humoring him?
“Not really. It’s my first time in Metropolis. I’ve brought some writing samples.” Clark needed to get the conversation off his travels and onto his writing. He handed Mr. White his portfolio.
“Well, let’s take a look.” The man’s eyebrows rose higher and higher as he perused Clark’s samples. That couldn’t be a good sign.
“The Borneo Gazette? ‘Mating rituals of the knob-tailed gecko?’” He looked up at Clark. It was a sympathetic look, but not an encouraging one.
“Look, Kent, I’m sure these stories are fascinating, but this is the Daily Planet, the greatest newspaper in the world! Our people are dedicated servants of the fourth estate who deal routinely with matters of international significance.”
At that moment, the door behind Mr. White swung open and a young man in khakis and a sport coat burst in waving a sheaf of loose papers. He was already speaking as he entered.
“Chief, I think there’s a story here and we should check this guy out. The crazy one from this morning? His name is Samuel Platt and he was an engineer at EPRAD for ten years. He’s…”
Mr. White interrupted before the intruder got any further. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?”
The young man blinked at Clark. Obviously, he hadn’t even noticed that there was a third person in the room. “Oh.”
The older man attempted to cover for his underling’s rudeness with an introduction. “James Olsen, Clark Kent.”
Clark began to stand to offer the other man his hand, but Olsen just gave give a cursory glance and a brief nod.
“Nice to meet you.” Then, to Perry, “Anyway, this guy worked on the messenger, he…”
“Jim, what happed to that mood piece I gave you two? The razing of that old theater on Forty-second?”
Olsen gave the editor a cocky grin. “She wasn’t in the mood.” Clark tried not to smile at the comeback. The editor was not amused.
“Now listen here, Olsen. I…”
But the conversation was interrupted once again, this time by a knock on the glass window that separated White’s office from the newsroom. All three men turned to see the source of the sound. But it was Clark’s jaw that went slack.
Waving at James Olsen and tapping her watch impatiently was the most beautiful woman Clark had ever seen. Luckily, Clark had time to school his features before anyone noticed him. Olsen and White’s eyes were on the woman, and then Olsen spoke.
“Gotta run. Catch you later, Chief.” And he was out the door, following the striking woman in a brisk trot toward the elevators. Mr. White shook his head.
“If that man wasn’t one of the best damn photographers I’ve ever seen, I’d…” He turned his attention back to Clark.
“Look, Kent, you seem like an intelligent guy, but you can’t just walk in here with this kind of resume and expect a job.”
“Mr. White, I know I lack experience, but I’m a hard worker and a good writer. I…”
That was as far as he got in his appeal. “Kent. I’m sorry. I haven’t got anything for you.”
Clark had no choice but to yield as gracefully as he could. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your taking the time to see me.”
****
Twenty-four hours later Clark waited outside that same office, this time feeling a bit more hopeful. It had been a stroke of inspiration to wander down to that theater on Forty-second street. If he could get Perry White to read the piece that had resulted from that impromptu foray, he had a good chance of at least selling it free-lance. He still needed a permanent job, but at least the money would tide him over for a few more days.
James Olsen was in with the editor now, and Clark waited for their conversation to wrap up. Clark watched through the open blinds as Olsen stood up, his business with the Chief evidently concluded. The door opened and Clark stepped back to let the young man through. Mr. White called one last remark as Olsen was on his way out.
“Jim, I almost forgot. Alice wanted me to invite you and the family for dinner Friday. She specifically said to bring your daughter along.”
Olsen turned back with an easy smile. “Sure, Chief. I’ll have to double-check with the Missus, but I think we’re free.”
Turning back to leave, Olsen noticed Clark waiting to enter.
“Hello again,” he greeted him. “I’m sorry I was in such a hurry yesterday. I don’t feel like I’ve properly met you yet.” The man held a hand out to Clark. “Jim Olsen.”
“Clark Kent.” As Clark shook hands with the young man, he silently took note of the ring he’d missed the day before. The man looked too young to have a wife and daughter, but Clark knew that looks could be deceiving. “Nice to meet you.”
“I take it your interview went well yesterday.”
Clark returned Olsen’s smile with a sheepish one of his own. “Not really, but I’ve got a free-lance piece I hope Mr. White will like. You gave me the idea, actually, about the closing of the theater on Forty-second. I hope you don’t mind.”
The young man laughed. “Not at all. More power to you. There’s no way Lois Lane was ever going to write that piece, and if the Chief buys it I can always run down and get a few shots to go with it.”
A small light went off in Clark’s head.
“Wait a minute. Lois Lane? And James Olsen. You’re that Olsen? Of Lane and Olsen? The Hottest Team in Town?”
The man smiled again. He seemed to smile constantly and it was contagious. “Guilty as charged. Now come on, let’s see what you’ve done with the assignment that Lois wasn’t in the mood for.”
By this time Perry White had come out from behind his desk, curious as to the conversation that was taking place in his office doorway between his star photographer and the rookie he’d turned down the day before. As Clark turned to look for the editor, he was already there, holding out his hand for the article. He began reading as he walked back to his desk, absently waving for Clark to take the same seat he’d had for his disastrous job interview. Jim Olsen leaned casually against the doorframe, shamelessly listening in as Perry began to read aloud.
“Beatrice was eighteen when she made her bebut. Warren G. Harding was President, the unknown soldier was interred at Arlington, and Babe Ruth was sold to the Yankees…”
As Mr. White continued to read, Clark’s confidence began to rise. The editor was reading the entire article, not just skimming it. And Jim Olsen seemed impressed.
In fact, three paragraphs into the article, Olsen quietly reached out his hand and grabbed a passing woman by the elbow. Clark knew right away who she was. The young lady from the window yesterday. She looked like she would object, but Olsen held his index finger to his lips and nodded silently toward Perry White, who was still reading Clark’s article aloud. The woman crossed her arms in annoyance, but she stayed to listen. By the end of the article she was as entranced as Olsen and White.
“…she came to say goodbye. Goodbye to a young girl in a gossamer dress, goodbye to the players, long dead, to the spirit of the theater, so strong that nothing, not even the wrecking ball, could destroy it. She came to say goodbye, as we all must, to the past, and to a life and a place that soon would exist only in a bittersweet memory.”
Perry looked up from the paper, his glance taking in Clark in the chair in front of him and Jim and the young woman in the doorway.
“Smooth.” It was Olsen who broke the silence.
Perry turned an inquiring eye on the woman next to Jim. Awkwardly, she shifted position, as if embarrassed to be caught listening so attentively. “Yeah” she said begrudgingly, “if you like that sort of thing.”
The editor turned his attention back to Clark.
“You know, Kent, there’s one attribute I value as much as experience, and that’s initiative.” He held out his hand to Clark. “Clark Kent, welcome to the Daily Planet.”
Clark couldn’t believe his ears. He had hoped to sell the article, but he had landed his dream job after all. He returned the editor’s handshake with enthusiasm.
“Thank you, Mr. White. You won’t regret it.”
Clark knew that a sappy grin was spreading across his face, but he couldn’t help it. He’d landed the job, and, if he were very lucky, he might even get a chance to work with the woman who drew his attention like a magnet every time he saw her.
“See that I don’t.” The reply sounded gruff, but Clark could tell it was just for show.
“Now, seeing as you’re new in town, I’m going to start you off slowly. I’m sure I’ll come up with something for you to write in a day or two, but I’d like you to start out by trailing these two around town for the next couple of days.” He nodded toward the pair in the doorway.
The woman opened her mouth to object, but the Chief overrode her. “Just for a couple of days, Lois, until he gets the lay of the land. You’ve worked with a partner for years; having one rookie in tow for a few days is not going to kill you.”
Clark had surmised from the conversation that the woman must be the famous Lois Lane. They hadn’t been properly introduced, though. Clark stood and was about to introduce himself when Jim Olsen beat him to it.
“Clark, I don’t think you’ve met the other half of the team yet.”
He turned to Lois and said “Lois, I’d like you meet my new friend and colleague, Clark Kent.”
Then, turning to Clark and casually draping an arm around Lois’s shoulders, Jim continued, “Clark, I’d like you to meet Lois Lane, the Planet’s best investigative reporter, and my wife.”
***********
