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You're the Devil in Disguise
CalliopeWayne
Summary:
Perry White stumbles on Clark Kent in the storage room and assumes the worst.

Notes:
Takes place during the Pilot. In this AU Jimmy Olsen is Jack's kid brother. I might change it down the line, but for now I like Jimmy being younger like in TASS.

“Okay, sorry about the late hour folks,” Perry entered the conference room. “There just doesn’t seem to be enough time in the day. “Where are Lois and Jack?” Perry asked, looking each of his reporters in the eye.

Lombard snored by the window. Ron Troupe twiddled his thumbs, routinely fiddling with his tie, which was askew. Cat ignored them all, playing games on her iPhone. Angela Chen stirred a fresh mug of coffee, glaring reproachfully at Clark Kent. Clark lounged on the farthest side of the table with his feet propped on the table, expertly flicking rubber bands into the trashcan across the room. Perry raised an eyebrow as his newest recruit shot a third and fourth rubber band into the trashcan without missing a shot; a trashcan that was twenty feet away easily.

“Clark?” Perry frowned at him.

Clark immediately straightened and kicked over Angela’s mug. “Not again,” Angela whined. “Clark, I swear you should come with a warning label.”

“I assumed they’d be here,” Clark said in a rush.

“Did Lois say where she was going?” Ron asked.

“She never tells me anything,” Clark said. “How should I know?”

"She's your call girl,” Cat said. “You should know where she is.”

“It was one date,” Clark protested. “And she slammed the door in my face. Trust me that ship has sailed."

"Sailed to the Tunnel of Love," a devious smile cut across her face, and she brushed her blonde hair behind her ear. "When you get bored with Lois, you can fly into my bed, Smallville."

"Are you implying what I think you're implying?" Clark's voice rose an alcove higher, paling. "You couldn't be farther from the truth."

Ron ignored them and started taking notes furiously.

“Trouble in paradise?” Cat quirked up one eyebrow suggestively. “Did you dump soy sauce in her lap?”

Clark visibly relaxed. “How do you know we went out for Chinese food?” Clark bit his lip nervously. “I didn’t even tell Lois where we were going.”

“I have eyes and ears everywhere,” Cat smirked. “Nothing happens without me knowing. You should be more careful if you want to keep it secret.”

“Alright, settle down,” Perry restrained an eye roll. He was going to have a long talk with Lois about proper etiquette in the newsroom. Losing your clothes was no excuse to miss a meeting. “We can just start without them,” Perry sat at the head of the table and looked into the trashcan. He counted ten rubber bands. If Clark’s career tanked, he could fall back on basketball. Lois would love that.

“Okay, now,” he eased into the comfortable chair, reserved for the editor. “The piece on the recent sex change in the royal family, he said. “Now, I kinda have mixed feelings about this . . .”
Clark stood without warning and headed for the exit. “I Kent . . .” Perry frowned. “Meetings not over, son.”

Clark bounced on the balls of his feet, restless. It almost looked like he was floating. In the dimly lit room with his unusually windswept black hair, Perry noted there was something familiar about that silhouette. The seed of an idea was planted. But it was silly. Clark wouldn’t be caught dead in that clown suit. Though, if you squinted The Flying Man sometimes looked like Elvis. And Clark looked nothing like the King.

“It’s not like Lois or Jack to miss a staff meeting,” Clark said. “I thought I’d go call around if that’s okay?” he stumbled over his words with a nervous stutter. Why did it feel like he was being lied to?

“Hell of a way to run a railroad,” he looked down at his notes and then back at the door. Clark was no longer there. Outside the conference room, a storm of papers scattered about; poor Jimmy fell backward as if a strong wind had blown him over.

“Alright, let’s see where was I, oh yeah?” Perry shifted gears. “Cat how goes the human interest piece on The Flying Man?”

If anyone could find dirt on the guy it was Cat. Lois was too close to the story to see objectively. Only four days since he made his big debut saving the Prometheus Space Shuttle and Lois had been saved by him three times. His reporter instincts told him there was something between those two. He had never seen Lois so smitten with a guy before, not even when she went on a date with Bruce Wayne. He couldn't believe Lois would choose Clark over the superhero. Maybe Cat had her wires crossed.

“Zippity squat,” Cat said. “He’s impossible to tail. I followed The Flying Man to a fire in Suicide Slums, by the time I got there the fire was already out.”

“Not acceptable,” Perry said. “We’re sitting on top of the story of the century here,” he said, growing impatient. “I want the name of this watchamecallit to go with the Daily Planet like bacon and eggs,” Perry said. “Franks and beans, death and taxes, politics and corruption,” he said. “I want the inside scoop on this guy,” he said. “Where does he sleep, does he have a family, a girlfriend . . . what does the ‘S’ stand for?”

Ron Troupe raised his hand like he was in class. “He’s faster than a jet plane,” Ron said. “His flight pattern might leave disturbances we could track.”

Genius. “Excellent. Ring up your contact at S.T.A.R labs. We’re going to nail this guy,” Perry said.

“But what about the royal family?” Angela asked.

“It’s just another Caitlyn Jenner,” Perry said. “They’d be tons more stories just like it. I want everybody on the Flying Man. And Cat?” Perry prompted. “I want you to tail Lois.”

“But she’s so . . . Lois.” Wherever Lois was the Flying Man was sure to follow.

There was a crash from next door. Angela swore. “Clark must have broken the door again.”

“He broke the door?” Perry asked.

“Yeah, his coat got caught in the revolving door,” Angela rolled his eyes. “And when he pulled it out, he took part of the door with him.”

And she didn’t think that was worth investigating? He would love to hear Kent’s excuse for the broken door. Silence fell and they all traded nervous smiles. “Nah,” Cat and Angela said at once. “He can’t even dress himself without Lois’ help,” Cat said. “And besides, Clark has shorter hair than the Flying Man,” Cat said with a dreamy smile. “Those curls do things to me.”

First day on the job he wore a flannel shirt and jean jacket. “Meeting dismissed.”

The reporters scurried out of the conference room. Perry walked past Jack Olsen’s desk. His kid brother, Jimmy was playing Pac-Man on his brother’s computer. “Olsen, this is not an arcade. Make yourself useful,” he told the teen. “Where is Clark?”

“He’s in the storage room,” Jimmy said. “Said something about calling Lois.”

“In the closet?” he said incredulously. “And you didn’t think that was odd?”

The kid shrugged. “He spends most of the day in there.”

“I bet he does,” Perry marched to the storage room and opened the door. “Kent?” he looked beyond the shelves and found Clark sitting by an open window, his shirt untucked. The dorky tie lay at his feet. But there was no sight of Lois.

“Oh, Kent, there you are,” he smiled at the young reporter. He sat there awkwardly, hands shoved in his pocket.

“Yes, sir,” Clark answered obediently.

“Jimmy told me you were in here,” Perry approached him and Clark’s hands flew to his shirt, eyes widening. He had put it on backward and his coat was wrinkled. Perry suppressed a chuckle, eyes twinkling as he saw unmistakable red panties hidden under Clark’s foot. Those probably belonged to Lois. He was positive if he investigated further he would find Lois Lane hiding behind one of the shelves. Good. He was rooting for Lois and Clark. This secrecy they insisted on was laughable. Everybody knew Clark Kent was in love with Lois Lane.

“Yes, sir,” Clark nodded.

“So,” Perry crossed his arms, viewing the young lad in a new light. “Did you make your call?”

“I was just about to, sir,” Clark said. Perry thought he heard a giggle and looked sideways, but it was just the wind blowing through the open window. Say, why was the window open? Everybody would hear them!

“So, are you looking for something?” Perry returned his gaze to Clark. A siren blared in the distance.

“No sir, not really.”

“Um . . .” he surveyed the cluttered shelf and boxes. There was a woman’s black pump on one of the boxes. He found the other shoe on the bottom shelf. He saw Lois wear a pair like that not too long ago.

“Well, I guess I better be getting back,” Perry said.

“Yes, sir,” Clark nodded.

“When are you coming—- out of the closet?” he asked.

Clark stood. “Soon, sir, very soon.”

Perry suppressed another chuckle. Should he mention his shirt was on backward? Honestly, how stupid did he think he was? It was insulting. He was happy for them, his little girl deserved all the happiness in the world. And Clark was such a catch. But they couldn’t have waited till they were at Clark’s apartment? He was surprised at Clark. He pegged him to be a more traditional man. The poor kid, Lois Lane had destroyed his innocence.

Perry nodded,took one last look at the glimmering black pump, and closed the closet.

Clark Scissorhands by CalliopeWayne.
Clark's elementary art teacher gradually realizes Clark Kent is an extraordinary boy.

Welcome to new readers and old. I write AU fics combining the DCAU and L&C. I hope you enjoy! All my stories are connected unless specified otherwise.

Chapter 1
Eight more days of this hell hole and then I’m a free woman!!! Ten. There’s no way I can close my classroom in one day. I have to clean the oil pastels, color code them, wash the watercolor pallets, sharpen pencils, and take inventory for next year. The list is endless.

Decorating the display cabinet in the front of the school is the last thing I want to do, but you don’t say no to the principal. Mr. Kwan wanted it bright and sunny for the gremlins returning for Summer School. The overachiever I am, I decided to make a lesson out of it and had all the kids create Van Gogh-inspired sunflowers.

This means I’m stuck cutting laminated sunflowers out during my planning period when I should be organizing this mess. Mr. Kwan wants the display cabinet finished for the award ceremony so the fifth graders graduating can take pictures. That is two days away. Yippee. I haven’t even started on the backdrop for the flowers.

I have quite a few talented fifth graders. Maybe I can enlist their help. The door opens and a trio of giddy fifth graders enter, carrying a sloppy volcano between them. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“We’re going to explode the classroom!” Pete explains, giddy with excitement, showing me the makeshift volcano that looked more like a pile of horse dung.

“Dummy, it’s not a real volcano,” Clark rolled his eyes at Pete. “We’ll be in big trouble if it were.”

“Clark,” I try to stifle my laughter and make choking noises. “That is a not a nice way to . . .”

“You won’t know a joke if it bit you in the ass!”

“It’s got to have super-duper sharp teeth,” Clark crosses his arms, laugher twinkling in his unnaturally blue eyes. “See, I can joke?” he beams proudly.

“You just ruined the punchline.”

“Ross!” I try to take control of the situation. “We don’t use that kind of language in . . .”

“Boys!” Lana claps her hands authoritatively and both boys jump. Lana looks adorable in her red pigtails tied up in pink bows, and somehow still manages to be the most mature one in the room. “You’re embarrassing me. If you can’t behave you’re going back to class.”

“You heard her boys,” I say, feeling as the only adult in the room I ought to say something.

“Mrs. Timm,” Lana faces me, all smiles. “May we please use some of your paint for our volcano?” she pouts, giving big doe eyes. “You won’t even know we’re here.”

I’ve got so much work to do, but I can’t say no to that face. “You know where the paint is,” I say.

“Thank you, thank you!” Lana leaps into my arms and hugs me tightly. “I’m going to make the best volcano ever!” she dances away to gather paint.

Translation: Clark Kent is going to make the best volcano ever while Pete offers commentary. I know my kids.

Lana doesn’t have a lick of artistic talent, but she makes up for it by Tom Sawyering the boys into doing her bidding. She is pretty and knows it. I’ve been watching her puppeteer Clark Kent since Kindergarten. I continue to cut sunflowers keeping an eye on the gremlins at the painting station. I can’t believe this is my last year with these gremlins. No more Clark Kent busting scissors. No more Lana playing matchmaker with her classmates. No more Pete Ross throwing balls in the classroom —okay that I am not going to miss. Even so, watching them paint, it hits me like a ton of bricks to the gut. This is the last time they’ll be in art. My eyes grow misty. Those were my babies. I’ve had them since Kindergarten. Where does the time go? Soon they’ll be in high school!

“Lana, why are you getting pink?” Clark asks. “Volcanoes are not pink.”

“This one is!” Lana fills the plate with pink. “And purple.”

“So you’re making a Mary Blair volcano,” Clark smirks, looking at me for approval. We did a lesson on Mary Blair in second grade, I’m surprised he remembers that.

“Blair a who?” Pete frowns, starting to sloppily plop pink on the cone.

“Mary Blair was a concept artist for Walt Disney,” Clark parotted. “She worked on Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan, and designed the puppets on It’s a Small World.”

“Nerd alert,” Pete coughs in his hand.

“Don’t you guys remember?” I smile. “We learned about Mary Blair three years ago and color theory.”

“I can barely remember what I had for lunch, let alone two years ago!” Lana shook her head, face squashed with dismay. “My memory isn’t as good as it used to be.”

“Don’t say that,” Clark sheepishly looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “You have the memory of an elephant,” he gushed. Oh, boy. That was not going to end well for him.

“Are you saying I’m fat?” Lana halts painting to glare daggers at Clark. Uncultured swine.

“No . . . uh, what now?” Clark stumbles over his words. “Elephants are majestic creatures.”

“You’re attracted to giant cows?”

“Elephants are descendents of mammoths . . . I mean who said anything about being attracted to you?” I cough to cover my laughter. Clark Kent has been making moon-eyes at Lana Lang since they were in diapers.

“Shut up now, Clark. You’re digging your own grave,” Pete warned.

“You’re not attracted to me?” Lana smirks, knowing full well the power her words have over Clark. “I’m everybody’s type.”

“We need more white,” Clark flees from Lana and grabs the tube of white paint.

“Remember to be gentle!” My warning is too late.

Clark squeezes the tube tightly and the paint dispenser is squashed to smithereens. Paint splatters all over him and my freshly cleaned floor. Lana squeals and jumps out of her seat, dancing like there’s a bug in her hair. Pete snatches some paper towel and rushes to help Clark; he trips over the spilt paint and falls on his rearend.

“I’m so sorry!” Clark looks mortified at me. His lower lip trembles like he’s about to cry. “I didn’t mean to,” he whimpers in the same way he did when he shattered the scissors bare handed in first grade. “Please don’t tell my Ma!” Big tears cascade down his cheeks. “She’ll take me out of school!” he starts to hyperventilate. “I don’t want to be home schooled!”

“It’s okay, sweetie,” I kneel on the floor and wipe up the paint. “It’s just paint, no harm done,” I reassure him.

Though I can’t figure out how he broke the plastic bottle. Clark has always had a knack for breaking unbreakable things. I sent him to retrieve a box of erasers from the cabinet once, and he returned holding half the door. One strange kid. Their was an unspoken rule among the locals of Smallville, never to talk about the strange things that happened around Clark Kent. One: You’ll be accused of insanity. Two: Martha Kent was as likely to poison your slice of apple pie as she was to kill you with kindness. She is astronomically protective of that boy.

“I’ve been meaning to replace these old bottles anyways.” I use old condiment dispensers from the local diner to dispense paint to the kiddos.

I smile at the kid. He’s the most talented kid in his class, I sometimes forget he’s a sensitive ten-year-old. He sniffs and offers me a grateful timid smile. In the ruckus his glasses fell off and I’m stunned by the surreal blue eyes. It’s as if the Aegian sea looks back at me, swirling and full of secrets of the deep.

“I think Ma has some at home, I could give you,” Clark offers quietly. That was the thing about Clark Kent. He’s notoriously clumsy but eager to fix his mistakes.

“That will be great,” I ruffle his dark curls.

Clark beams, content, and returns to mopping up the floor. The kids laugh as Pete paints a white mustache over his lip. “Marty,” Pete hunches over like an old man, mimicking walking with a cane. He whacks Lana with a broom. “What are we going to do with that clumsy son of ours,” he looks at Clark with reproach. “That’s the second time we’ve had to rebuild the barn,” Pete laments.

Lana giggles, joining in on the fun. “At this rate Clark’ll be too busy fixing his mess to give us grandbabies,” Lana chortles.

“What gal is going to want to have such a klutz for a husband,” Pete muses puting a hand on his bad hip and groaning comically.

Clark turns crimson. “They don’t sound like that!”

“Did you hear something?” Pete scratches his earlobe. “Sounded like a train exploding.”

“You diseased . . . clown!” Clark seizes. He was never very good at insults. “This train will throw you in a volcano!” his eyes widened as he realized what he said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that! I love you Pete.”

Lana and Pete shared amused looks and burst out laughing. “You’re so cute, Clark,” Lana hugged him, getting paint all over her uniform, but she didn’t seem to mind. “Like a teddy-bear.” Clark’s expression droops in disappointment. Having his crush compare him to a toy is no fun. Lana is a good two head taller than Clark, making the hug quite awkward. He’s the smallest fifth grader but what he lacked in height he made up for in wits and brains.

I remember those days. I was the dorky runt of the litter, too. Give him time. He’ll grow into his limbs and stop looking so disportionent. Though, Jonathan was never that tiny and clumsy as a kid. Clark must get his small frame from Martha’s side of the family. With Farmer John’s genes, it’ll be only a matter of time before Clark shoots up.

The second the bell rings Pete and Lana rush into the hall. “Hey!” I follow them out. “You left a mess!” but they have already been swallowed up by the throng of students heading downstairs for dismissal.

“They’re allergic to cleaning,” Clark states plainly.

“Last time I let them paint,” I scowl. “You should go get your backpack kiddo.”

Clark frowns. at the mob of students clammering down the hallway, and inches closer to me. “Can I help you clean?”

“Sure, I could use the help,” I agree amiably. Though, we both know he’s just avoiding people. “One day soon, mister you’re going to be a celebrity commanding the attention of a room full of strangers,” I laugh as he inches closer to me.

“Never, ever going to happen,” he closes his eyes tightly as a stray backpack strap hits him. “I don’t like people.”

“You and I both know that’s not true,” I prop the door open and head back into the classroom, Clark following closely behind. “You’re a social butterfly.”

“Yeah,” Clark relents. “I like people. People are neat,” he picks up the sheet of laminated flowers without thinking. “They each have unique stories dying to be heard.”

Using his index finger he mindlessly cuts out the sunflower with his fingernail from the lamination. I gulp. Don’t blink, don’t dare move, lest you scare the kid. Clark’s method of cutting is nothing new.

You’ve seen it before.

It’s our secret.

Even after having taught him for six years, his sharp nails still baffle me. He was in third grade the first time I saw him use his fingernail to cut. We were working on cardboard sculptures and Clark was brought to tears of frustration after breaking ten scissors. He was so excited when he tried to cut with his fingernail and it worked. I didn't have the heart to tell him how abnormal that was. He was already teased for being the strongest in his class. The other kids called him Clarkzilla to his face and some of the meaner kids referred to him as Alien Shortstack.

In a few minutes Clark had the rest of the sunflowers cut out and in a neat pile by his elbow. “Mrs. Timm, can I ask you something?” he met my eyes timidly.

“Of course, kiddo,” I say. “You know, you can talk to me about anything.”

Clark swallows hard. “You’re old,” he states matter-of-factly. “Been around awhile.”

How old does he think I am? Guess once you have kids of your own, you immediately transition from ‘cool young teacher’ to ‘old, weathered veteran.’ Story of my life. I’m barely past thirty and the kids think I’m ancient now that I’m a mom.

“Have you ever had students who could cut like me?” he asks.

I knew this question was coming, but I wasn’t prepared for it in the slightest. After the cardboard incident I was careful to omit any lessons that required cutting from Clark’s class. It might have raised some eyebrows if Principal Kwan ever saw what Clark could do. He’s a tender soul, I couldn’t risk the wrong sort of people finding out about him. The government will ship him off to some remote island and do experiments on him. I couldn’t let that happen.

“We never used scissors in my class,” Clark observes. “It’s because of me isn’t it?”

I swallow hard. What do you say to that? Clark is too observant for an elementary kid. The makings of a detective in that kid. “You’re a special boy,” I tell him, feeling that’s the safest course of action.

“You mean, I’m a freak,” he says in a small voice. “I can’t even cut properly. Clark-Scissorhands,” he makes a disgusted face.

“Everybody has their own unique gifts,” I say. “Never be ashamed of who you are.”

“Do you think I’m human?” he asks seriously.

I pause and study him carefully, certain he’s pulling my leg. But no, the kid was dead serious. “You’ve been watching way too much X-files.”

“I’m the kind of thing Fox Mulder will chase after,” he says. I’m surprised and a little concerned Clark is watching X-Files. That show is not appropriate for kids.

“Mom won’t tell me why I’m so different,” Clark sighs heavily. “I want to believe her.”

“You’re as human as me, son,” I fight the urge to hug the little kid. He looks so small and uncertain about the world.

“Are you sure?”

I raise my hand to him and gently grab his small hand, placing it flat on mine. “You know, I’ve been thinking lately, that you could be some subspecies of elephant.”

Clark giggles wraps his arms around me. “I love that movie!”

“Me too, kiddo,” I say. It was my childhood.

“You’ll always be in my heart,” Clark hugs me tighter. “I’m gonna miss you Mrs. Timm.” I stroke his head, throat tightening with grief. I’m going to miss him too. “I don’t want to go to middle school.”

“Growing up is part of life,” I say sadly. “And I’ll always be here. You can visit any time you want.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Clark hugs me one last time. “I’ll never forget you. Thank you,” he says teary-eyed. “I was worried I wasn’t human.” What a strange thing for a little kid to say. “I’m being dumb.”

“You should get going,” I release him, also teary-eyed. “Mama K. will be worried sick.”

You’re not supposed to have favorites as an art teacher, but I totally do. He was my baby. I've taught him for six long years. Longer, if you count the private lessons Mrs. Kent paid for in Pre-K. Come to think of it, it’s odd they didn’t enrol him in Pre-K with the rest of the kids. He was such a bright boy.

“She’s so paranoid,” Clark rolls his eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

“It’s a mother’s job to worry,” I smirk, thinking of my own son at home. Brucey just turned five and climbs on everything. Needless to say he’s given me a heart attack once or twice when he fell. Hell, Clark gave me a heart attack when the oak tree on the playground fell on him.

“Don’t worry about, Bruce,” Clark hugs me again. “I’ll catch him if he falls.”

“I’m sure you will, kiddo.” Who was going to catch Clark if he fell? He kept himself so isolated, even when he was surrounded by people, I worried he’d end up alone.

Clark’s smile melts away, growing forlorn. “Bruce is lucky to have you as a mom,” he hugs me again as if afraid to let me go. “Don’t die,” he pleads. Somehow I know he’s thinking of another little boy named Bruce that used to visit him regularly and was now the most famous orphan on the planet.

“It’ll be okay, O’l Sport,” I stroke his head. “Us farmers are built of stronger things.”

“I hope so,” Clark hugs me one last time and slips out of the art room.

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Chapter 2
Chapter Text
Clark never revisited the art room. As with most kids, life happens, and they grow up, forgetting their ancient art teacher. I saw Clark in passing in town occasionally, but the little boy I once knew was gone, replaced by a moody teenager.

As expected he had a growth spurt and soon was taller than everybody in his class. Each year, his muscles filled out until he was almost unrecognizable. He wore baggy clothes to hide his changing body, but the girls flocked to him like moths to a flame. He had eyes only for Lana Lang.

All of Smallville expected him to marry his neighbor (we all knew he had been using that telescope of his to spy on Lana since he was in middle school.) Wedding bells were around the corner. I’m ashamed to admit I snooped on the young lovers one too many times. They were such a darling couple. I even had Lana and Clark babysit Bruce and baby Brielle a few times, hoping Lana would get baby fever and elope with Clark. Their babies would have been gorgeous.

But their love was not meant to be. Nobody knows exactly why they broke up. Some say Lana set her eyes on someone more sophisticated. Some say Lana’s ambition drew a wedge between her and Clark. Some believe Lana was not ready to settle down. Either way, the Smallville gossips all agreed on one fact: Lana Lang ripped Clark Kent’s heart out and crushed it like a grape.

So when I entered the Tipsy Chicken after a grueling day of snot-faced kindergartners and angry fifth graders, I was not surprised to find my old pupil hunched at the bar, drinking straight whiskey. Martha will be livid. What was Bill thinking serving Clark? He wasn’t even nineteen yet! I marched over to set things straight but was cut off by a tall girl.

“Clark Joseph Kent!” she grabbed the drink out of his hand. “You’re better than this, Smallville. Don’t be such a predictable depressed, lovesick moron.”

Ah! It was the stray, city girl Martha picked up. I forgot her name. She was the only one who called Clark, Smallville. She moved to Smallville last year following a lead on a story. City folk are super weird. If my little girl ran away from home I would have dragged her ungrateful butt back home and made her rethink her life decisions. Not exile her to a foreign town. That poor girl had Darth Vader as a father.

“Don’t you have some story to chase, Snoop,” Clark made an ugly face he reserved for bullies.

“Yeah, you,” Snoop said. “The fall of the great Clark Kent,” Snoop clutched Clark’s arm. “This isn’t you.”

“You don’t know me, you stupid, nosy hag!”

“I know you’re hurting, so I’m going to let that comment slide this once,” she said seriously. “Talk to me like that again, Kent, and I’ll beat the crap out of you.”

“I wish you would,” Clark took another sip of whiskey and slammed it down in frustration.

“Your girlfriend is right,” I crossed my arms and gave Clark a hard look I never had to give him when he was my student.

“I’m not his girlfriend or anything . . .” the girl rambled. “Whose this Clark? Moving on from Lana so fast?”

“Mrs. Timm?” Clark gulped. “What are you doing here?”

“Better question, what are you doing here?” I arched an eyebrow at him. “Last time I checked, you’re not twenty-one! I can’t believe you will sink to this level. What will your mother say?”

“Yeah, Clark,” the girl’s hands flew to her hips, mimicking Martha Kent expertly. “I’m so disappointed in you, son I don’t know where to begin!”

“Young lady, he is not the only one drinking underage,” I faced the city girl, unable to keep my anger in check. What’s her face was a bad influence. “You are both in serious trouble.”

“Us Lane girls can hold our liquor,” Lane said. “It’s Clark you should be worried about. He’s a lightweight. One drink and he thinks he’s Peter Pan and tries to jump off rooftops.”

“I do not!” Clark turned crimson. “You big, fat liar!”

Lane decked him across the face. Clark flew backward, knocking into the countertop. The metal counter groaned under his weight and crumbled like dust. Oh dear! I quickly stepped in front of the broken counter to hide the damage from the cub reporter. Mercifully there were no drinks in danger of falling, but there was a Clark-sized dent on the rim of the counter.

“I am appalled at both your behavior!” I use my teacher's voice. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. This is not the Middle Ages. You use words, young lady not your fists. And you Clark,” I whirled on him. “I thought I’d never see the day Jonathan Kent’s son treated a lady with such disrespect!” All the while I made sure to block any wreckage from his nosy friend.

“She's not a lady, she’s Lois.”

“My daddy taught me never to show weakness,” Lois held her head high. “And not to ever let a man disrespect me.”

“He also wants nothing to do with you,” Clark said.

“Was that comment necessary?” It’s like I don’t know Clark anymore. What happened to the sweet, caring boy I used to know? God, this is why I don’t teach high school. Hit puberty and all the manners they learn fly out the window.

“No, ma’am,” Clark looks down at his feet. “But it’s true.”

“Yeah,” Lois acknowledges. “I don’t want anything to do with the general either.”

“He’s your Dad,” Clark said seriously. “You don’t mean that.”

“Not all of us are lucky enough to have Bo Duke for a father,” she said.

“Who?”

“You uncultured swine,” she elbowed Clark. “You’ve never seen Dukes of Hazard! We’re rectifying that travesty right away!”

“I’m regretting ever asking,” Clark said.

I watched Lois drag Clark outside by his hoodie and shook my head. That girl was something else. She’s been in Smallville for a year and already got Clark involved in an illegal car race, broke into a government facility with him, threw a party at the Kents' house while they were away, and was caught naked in a cornfield with Clark. The last bit was pure rumor, but based on my own experience with the city gal, I won’t put it past her. I won’t be surprised if she’s the reason Lana broke up with Clark.

Clark followed Lois Lane to Metropolis University (though he insisted his choice to leave Smallville had nothing to do with Mad Dog Lane.) He visited on the weekends, and Lois regularly tagged along for Mama K.’s cooking. The two of them were glued to the hip. He finished his internship at the Daily Star, but made the transition to the Daily Planet after a few short years. When asked, Clark will say it was always his dream to work at greatest newspaper in the world. But I know better. It was no coincidence he moved to the Daily Planet after Edward Lytener tried to kill Lois. Smallville wanted to keep an eye on Mad Dog Lane, and what better way to do that than to be her partner?

When the mysterious flying man surfaced I knew it was my student. Clark went through a phase in high school, where he drew nothing but that strangely shaped ‘S. Clark left Smallville and suddenly that symbol was popping up on all the crime scenes. It was a no-brainer. I keep tabs on all my students, it’s a small town and most of them don’t leave Smallville. Clark was trickier. I had to rely on town gossip and tabloids to pin him down. But he wasn’t fooling me for a second. I do wish he would give up the gloomy black costume. He was not that nut in Gotham. Even on his worst days, Clark Kent had an optimistic outlook on the world. He might have doubted himself, but he put his emotions aside and was a shoulder to cry on for his friends or the steadfast hero Smallville desperately needed.

I was disappointed Clark landed the first exclusive with the Flying Man instead of Lois. It wasn’t right. I understood why he did it. He wanted to control what information got out to the public, but it still felt icky and dishonest. He was writing about himself! The article itself was a bit wish-washy and read like a snippet from a Warrior Angel comic book. He inserted in a corny quote that sounded like something the winged alien would have said. But there was nothing about the family or a peek behind the Boy Scout. He kept the facts, and nothing more.

The joke was on him. Lois still got the upper hand. The second he flew onto the Prometheus Space Shuttle wearing Martha’s handiwork, Lois sized him up. Clark might have had the first exclusive, but Lois christened Superman and unearthed the truth of the last son of Krypton. Knowing the two of them, Lois undoubtedly bullied the truth out of Clark.

It was surreal. Part of me didn’t want to believe it. An alien grew up in my backyard. I taught him about analogous colors and how to cut. He broke countless scissors. Suddenly his odd question all those years ago made sense. Deep down Clark always knew he was different. But by gosh. It didn’t matter where that boy came from, he was still one of us. I just wished he wasn’t so alone.

It made me happy knowing Clark had Lois in his corner. Though this business of Clark Kent and Superman was going to bite him in the ass one of these days. That poor girl was smitten with Superman. Anyone could see that in the photos of Lois and Superman. She lost track of how many times she saw Lois and Clark in the tabloids. The Daily Star had started referring to Lois as Mrs. Superman and there was no end of rumors about the happy couple.

Clark wore his heart on his sleeve. This business with Lobo was the last straw. Lois practically announced to the whole world Clark Kent is Superman when she stood up to the bounty hunter, fighting alongside Superman. There was also the matter of Lobo abducting Lois and Clark and taking them to God knows where. I worried the wrong people would realize the truth and hurt my boy.

Somebody needed to knock some sense into that boy. Martha shared my fears. It would take one wrong person observing Superman and Lois to expose our boy. Martha tried warning Clark but boys rarely listened to their mothers.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number Martha gave me. “Whatsup?” A woman answered the phone.

“Is this not Clark Kent’s cell?” I frowned, taken aback by the stranger on the other end. The girl sounded nothing like Lois. She had a grating voice that reminded me of a vulture’s cry.

“Yeah, he’s in the shower. Who’s this?”

“This is Mrs. Timm . . . I was Clark’s elementary teacher,” I said. “I didn’t realize he had a girlfriend.”

“It’s kinda new,” she said. “We’re still keeping it under wraps, he hasn’t told his parents.”

Alarm bells immediately went off in my head. It wasn’t like Clark to hide anything from his parents. “You don’t say,” I mused. “How did you meet? Where did you study? What is your name? Where are you from?”

“Listen, lady, I did not sign up for the third degree. What Clark and I do is between us!”

“You’ve slept with him?” Martha taught Clark better than this.

What about Lois? It was bad enough that things didn’t work out with Lana, but after their last visit to Smallville, I was slowly warming up to Lois. She was good for Clark, kept him honest, and didn’t give him an inch. They were also ‘The hottest reporting team in town.’ You didn’t get a title like that without a bit of chemistry.

“So what if I did?”

Oh my God! This Superman persona is giving Clark a big head. I was afraid of this happening! He’s only a man, susceptible to the same temptations as a human man. But come on! He had the perfect partner. Who was this crazy loon?

“Leslie, who’s that?” Clark’s voice was muffled as if coming from deep underground.

“Some crazy nut, says she’s your teacher.”

“Hello?” Clark answered.

“Who the hell is she?” I screamed. “You and Lois are supposed to be together!” I was so thrown off by the prostitute that I forgot why I originally called.

“Hello to you too, Mrs. Timm,” Clark’s voice was laced with amusement. “How are Bruce and Brielle?”

“Don’t change the subject,” I said. “This is serious. Are you cheating on Lois? What’s going on? You were raised better than this. Lois would never forgive you. Your mother will disown you! How can you be sleeping with another woman.”

“First off,” Clark said testily. “Nobody is sleeping with anyone,” he said. “And second, Lois and I are just friends.”

“But the tabloids!” I screeched and faltered. What if this Leslie doesn’t know Clark is an alien? I lowered my voice. “The world thinks you’re in love with Lois.”

Clark dropped the phone. “Love,” he laughed, shuffling on the other end as he righted the phone. “I’m her occasional errand boy and personal punching bag. There’s nothing going on between us.” I noticed how he didn’t deny that he loved her.

“Is that so?” I said dubiously. He followed Lois around like a lost puppy. She drove her car into a lake to get his attention. He knew how Lois liked her coffee. She knew his favorite comfort food and how to lift his spirits.The love between them was obvious to everyone except for Clark. I gave Leslie a week.

“Yes,” Clark said seriously. “And you can share that with the rest of the Smallville busybodies,” he sounded perturbed.

I clearly wasn’t the first concerned neighbor to butt in where I wasn’t wanted. What can I say? When you have a family member thousand of miles away, people tend to worry. Each week there seemed to be a new big bad trying to prove themselves by taking down Superman. Only yesterday a mobster tired to kill him with alien weapons. It made front page news.

“We’re just concerned about you, honey,” I said. “You haven’t called your mother in six months!”

“I just got back,” he lowered his voice. “It’s been hectic around here.”

The story The Daily Planet ran was that some nut hired Lobo to collect Superman and Lois got caught in the crossfire. And this was before Bruno Manheim allegedly used alien technology against Superman.

“And Lois, was with you?” I keep my voice neutral. The town is already abuzz with rumors. Clark and Lois on an alien planet together, alone, trapped inside a Kryptonian habitat . . . imagination did run wild. Some were just waiting to hear the announcement of Clark Jr.

“Well, yea,” Clark said, matching her neutral tone. “She got the story on Superman.”

“Right, the story,” I echo dubiously. “It’s always about the story with her.”

“Lois is in love with Superman, not me,” Clark said.

“But you are. . .” I swallowed my tongue. You are Superman! But I don’t want to risk the crazy lady hearing.

“I appreciate your concern,” he said cordially. “It was good hearing from you Mrs. T. I’ve got to go now.”

“No, Clark, wait!”

But he already hung up. Martha was not going to like this. I called Martha next, but she didn’t answer. So I called Widow Maud who lived down the road from the Kents. Within the hour the whole town knew about Leslie and was not happy.

Smallville was divided between team Lois and team Lana. I thought Lois was the best thing to happen to Clark since he discovered Stephen Spielberg movies. But we all agreed Leslie Willis was bad news and needed to go.

I easily found Lois’ number online and rang her up. “Lois Lane, Daily Planet,” she answered breezily.

“Hi Lois,” I kept my voice cheery. “You probably don’t remember me,” I said, feeling silly as a schoolgirl playing matchmaker. “This Mrs. Timm,” I said, winching.

What was I doing? I didn’t even know if she knew he was Superman. But she was better than that phony. Lois and Clark had chemistry. They belonged together.

“I was Clark’s art teacher back in the day . . . We met briefly at Tipsy Chicken.”

“Oh yeah!” Lois explained. “You’re the nut that screamed at me.”

“Well, you were underage. You had no business being in a bar.”

“I was just there for moral support,” she admitted. “Clark was in a dark place.”

“That’s why I’m calling,” I treaded carefully. “He’s come down with something,” I think on my feet.

“Clark never gets sick.”

“He’s not quite sick,” I fib. “It’s more of a mental affliction,” I decided, which was true enough. “You should probably go check on him. Make sure he’s okay, cook him some cookies - he loves chocolate chip cookies.”

“You found out about Leslie,” Lois sighed loudly. “Clark is a big boy. He can make his own dumbass decisions.”

“She’s not right for him.”

“He’s got to figure that out the hard way.”

“She’s going to hurt him, you know that,” I tried again. “You remember how broken Lana left him.” The last thing they needed was a depressed Superman wrecking havoc.

“Eh,” Lois said carelessly. “Clark thinks he can fix Leslie, once he sees she’s a lost cause he’ll lose interest.” Clark didn’t give up easily. He saw the good in everyone even if they walked all over him.

“I give them a month,” she said confidently.

“You don’t sound the least bit jealous,” I observed.

“For the last time, nothing is ever going to happen between Clark and I, got it?”

“So nothing happened between you and Superman at the Cosmic Zoo?”

“I thought we were talking about Clark,” Lois said suspiciously.

“That’s not a denial,” I smirked. If I could just plant the seeds of doubt in her mind, everything else will fall into place. She loved Superman and was best friends with Clark Kent. It’s about time she realized her best friend was moonlighting as a superhero.

“Nothing happened,” Lois said dejectedly. “Now, did you just call to talk about Clark, or do you have a story for me?”

“Do me a favor, and check on him,” I implored. “I don’t like the idea of him being alone with that siren.”

“No problem,” Lois agreed. “But I’m not cooking. I’ll burn down the house.”

“Good thing you’re best friends with Superman, then?”

The bridesmaids gathered around the bed, each woman clutching the bottom sheet. They hummed along to a folk song, giggling as they made the bed.  Lois’ arms trembled as she hauled the sheet to the corner of the bed. Under other circumstances, she might have enjoyed this Greek tradition. She was bone-weary and sluggish. A cloud hovered over her brain, making it difficult to think.      

The bride-to-be danced around the bedroom, her feet moving passionately with each beat of the music. The flowers weaving through her bun made her look twenty years younger. She looked at Uncle Mike as if he were Perseus reincarnated. Lois couldn’t for the life of her remember the cook’s name. It was her cooking uncle Mike fell in love with.

 Lois’ eyes were drawn to the circle of groomsmen dancing around the bed, and crowing with glee. She found Clark instantly and moistened her lips. He threw his head back laughing, hands braced on the man’s shoulders beside him. The muscles in his forearms rippled, begging to be explored. Clark moved like a Greek who had learned to dance before walking. 

Hera, save me. That man’s moves were sinful. 

 It was so unfair the groomsmen got to be so close to her man while she was saddled with blankets. There was nothing more sexy than Superman Greek dancing. The only thing that would make it better was an airy toga with a great view. His broad shoulders rolled lyrically with each step – his movements as fluid as an incoming wave.    

“Na zisete!”  Clark screamed over the roar of the other Greeks. His voice crashed into her and Lois felt suddenly embarrassingly warm. She caught a whiff of electrifying ozone, the smell of lightning touching down — and an undercurrent of earthy tones uniquely Kal-El.

“Ela pare lige gia kali tichi!” 

A chunky bridesmaid offered her a basket of rice. Lois was annoyed at her view of Clark being blocked, but quickly forgave her when the smell of rice overpowered Clark’s scent. She took a fistful of rice and shoved it in her mouth. The bridesmaid’s eyes widened. She screamed at Lois, horrified. It was all Greek to her. 

“You’re supposed to throw the rice on the bed, not eat it,” Clark said, leaning into Lois from behind. His breath was hot on her neck and smelled like honey. Lois stiffened, her body itching to grab him. 

“It’s tasty.” 

Not as tasty as his mouth. Lois whirled around and slammed her mouth on his. Clark’s eyes widened. Cheers erupted from the bridal shower. She forced her way on top of him, heedless of the audience they had. She couldn't get enough of him. 

“Kai sa echoume enan allo gamo!” the bride-to-be clapped enthusiastically. She screamed at her bridesmaids. Lois gnawed at Clark’s bottom lip, only half listening. Greeks only had two volumes, loud and louder. It was difficult to tell whether the bride-to-be was angry or elated to see her future niece so happy. 

 Clark screeched like a dachshund who got its tail stepped on. Lois blinked confusedly, barely registering what was happening. Two hefty men tossed Clark onto the bed, laughing and applauding. Arms grabbed Lois from behind and dropped her on top of Clark. The beadboard groaned under their combined weight. She felt Clark tense with fear, and she grabbed his hand to reassure him. She knew how much he hated the attention. 

“This is bad luck for the wedding!” Clark protested, trying to get up. “We’re not the ones getting married!” 

 Uncle Mike gently pushed him back to the bed. He looped an arm around his fiance’s ample waist. She grinned ear-to-ear. “Much too old to be thrown on a bed,” Uncle Mike smiled, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Not good for me ol’ back.”  

“But it’s tradition!” Clark protested. The bridal party was happy with the new arrangement. People threw money and rice over Lois and Clark, gay laughter ringing through the bedroom. The bride and groom danced around the bed. Lois was impressed by how freely they moved in the small area. Lois had never seen Uncle Mike so happy and free before. He dipped and spun his fiance, kissing her as eagerly as a schoolboy. A cousin flung money at the happy couple and then threw some more at Lois and Clark. 

Lois was hunkered down by Clark, basking under the glow of the adoring crowd. Euros and rice rained down on them—a spattering of white feathered throughout Clark’s black hair. She plucked a grain off his eyebrow and ate it. Clark scowled. 

“You know there’s real food in the . . .” 

She shut him up with a hard kiss. She hoped that when it was their wedding day, it would be as joyous as this. With their track record, it was unlikely.   

Forgive the long absence. Writer's block is not fun!

Now we see what Lois and company are up to.

Drop a line of comment if you get a chance.

As the sleek silver Jeep Grand Cherokee whipped through Metropolis’ late-night traffic towards the business center of downtown, Eugene exclaimed, “Miss Lane! Don’t drive so fast! The police will pick us up for speeding long before we get to RoxxTen!”

“If you had worn the right outfit when you first came downstairs, I wouldn’t have to drive so fast!” she retorted. “Who ever heard of someone wearing a white shirt and tie when they are going to break into a building?”

“Sorry, I forgot to consult my latest copy of ‘What the Well-Dressed Burglar Should Wear!’” Eugene snapped back, tugging at the sleeves of a black wool turtleneck sweater that protruded from beneath a heavy jacket.

Talmadge couldn’t help but smile. Their reluctant computer expert passenger had guts talking to Lois as if they were bickering siblings. But Eugene Laderman was in for a surprise. Talmadge’s smiled turned into a smirk as he said, “Relax, this is Lois’ normal driving.”

Tapping Lois on the shoulder, Eugene said, “You didn’t drive like that during the Ides of March caper –”

Lois interrupted, “I couldn’t risk it then! At that time the police were always two steps away from arresting us! Look, consider this night out an adventure! How many of your colleagues ever leave the comfort and security of the classroom or computer lab to hang out with two intrepid reporters and stop the wrongdoings of an international criminal organization?”

“Only me, but –

“So, now you’re ahead of the curve! But my temporary partner and I are the experts, so like the man said, relax and leave the driving to me.”

Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Eugene said, sitting back with a reluctant groan.

Talmadge’s normally mild tone lifted with a touch of humor. “That’s why we asked you to help us; nobody else would be crazy enough to do it.”

“Terrific. That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Came the petulant reply from the back seat.

“Sorry, Talmadge,” Lois corrected, “But Eugene isn’t the only scientist who tagged along with me and … Clark.” Her voice wavered on his name.

It was quiet inside the Jeep for a few moments and then, Eugene sensing how much it cost to mention her missing fiancé’s name said. tried to shift the conversation, “Who else went with you on nights like this?” He still couldn’t bring himself to say they were going to break into RoxxTen.

“Bernie Klein.”

Eugene gave a low whistle and said in a respectful tone. “Doctor Bernard Klein?”

Talmadge looked first at Lois and then turned in his seat and glared at Eugene, “Who is Dr. Klein?”

His companions proceeded to tell him about the shy genius scientist who worked for S.T.A.R. Labs and Lois filled in how he had assisted her and Clark on a number of daring escapades. Lois was secretly grateful to Eugene for quickly taking the spotlight off Clark and shifting the focus onto their scientist friend. After all this time, she was still uncomfortable talking at length about her fiancé in front of Talmadge.

On they drove through the cold, dark night, passing the Daily Planet, Napier Avenue and Centennial Park. As they sped by the lovely park, wrapped in early winter’s drab hues, Lois stared straight ahead, refusing to look at the now deserted fountain where Clark had proposed. Although Centennial Park’s main fountain was not musical like many others that had been built around the same time, the water patterns which spurted from the fountain were ever-changing, with soft twinkling lights, as gentle as a lover’s kiss. That enchanted spot held too many happy memories, and right now was not the time to revisit them.

Finally, Lois made a hard right turn, and from the back seat came a sharp intake of breath. However, to Eugene’s credit, he never uttered another word of complaint. Maybe talking about how brave Bernie had been on his stake-outs had helped firm his own resolve to go on one himself.

With that last abrupt turn, the Jeep pulled deep into a dark alley and parked in the rear of a single black dumpster filled with all kinds of trash, that recked terribly despite the cold night. With this action they were leaving bright streetlights behind. The only illumination now was slivers of light from the full moon high above, slicing between the two tall rectangle office buildings.

In a low whisper Lois said, “Okay guys, we are here.” She reached into the backpack and, after rummaging around in it, pulled out a pair of thin, plastic surgical gloves. “Wait a minute, Eugene. Put these gloves on. Remember your fingerprints are in the Metro PD database.”

Eugene closed his eyes and made a slow groan. But he wordlessly slipped the gloves over his fingers.

Everybody out,” she said, opening her door. Phew! That dumpster stinks of spoiled cabbage and rotten eggs!” Lois muttered.

The threesome quietly exited the car. Talmadge handed her the backpack and she slung it over her shoulders. Speedily and silently the trio made their way to the side entrance. The oxygen that was expelled from their lungs made clouds of frost in the freezing night air.

Before them was a heavy door with a square steel lock. Quickly, Lois pulled out the gleaming lock-picking tools and went to work on it. In a very few seconds, the lock yielded to her ministrations and the door swung open with a slight metallic click. They all winced upon hearing the sound, echo down the alley, hoping no one was inside the building to hear it.

They entered the maintenance area and proceeded soundlessly up a flight of concrete stairs. They were in luck, as the building seemed to be unusually devoid of life, but it was late Friday night and doubtless, most, if not all, of the staff had departed early. At this hour, even the cleaning crew had completed all assigned tasks and headed for home.

“What floor is Simcoe’s office on?” Eugene asked.

“The fifth. Its where all the customer service reps are stationed.” Talmadge replied.

“How … how do you know so much about this place?” Eugene’s breath labored as they ran up the stairs.

Lois whispered the answer, “Like any good reporter, he does his research. Now be quiet! We’re almost there!”

They exited the stairwell on Simcoe’s floor after thoroughly examining the darkened corridor to make sure it was deserted. Despite walking quietly, their footsteps made loud clicking sounds on the tile floors. The trio moved down the hallway until they were outside of his office. Lois knelt down so that her eyes would be on the same level as the door lock and again fished out her lock picking-kit from her backpack. As she was unzipping it to get out the tools she thought were needed, Eugene, growing frustrated by the delay and worried that someone might come along, reached out, turned the doorknob, and pushed.

The door swung obligingly open.

Lois was chagrined. Why hadn’t she thought to check to see if it was unlocked instead of just assuming that she would have to pick the lock? To cover any embarrassment, she blew out a breath and said, “Thanks, Eugene.” Standing, she led the way into the office. Once they were all inside, since the door was solid, Paul switched on the light.

“This is the office of a customer service representative?” Lois said incredulously. “It’s larger than Perry’s and has a window!”

Indeed, the office was spacious with a U-shaped desk setup including a hutch with frosted glass doors and covered in commercial grade laminate the color of expresso coffee beans. There was a door next to the desk that must be either a supply or coat closet.

But the most unusual feature of the room was the body stretched out on the tile floor in front of the desk, an ugly purple bruise, long and straight across his face. There were other markings as well, a blue powder. Some of the powdery substance was sprinkled in the man’s hair. Lois, despite being frightened was trying to remember where she had seen such a colored powder before.

Eugene let out a yelp of surprise as his gaze fell on the body, and he turned to exit. Lois laid a restraining hand on his arm and asked in a harsh whisper, “Where do you think you’re going?”

His mouth fell open, all color draining from the normally bland face as he pointed at the body laying down on the floor. He whispered in a hoarse voice. “What did I say earlier about breaking the rules? I knew something awful like this was going to happen! No sooner do I get involved with you in a caper, I’m tripping over dead bodies! The very nature of successfully hacking into a company computer is that no one realizes it’s been done. A corpse changes matters dramatically. People… especially the police, are bound to think one of us is the killer.”

Again, he turned to run out of the room, but Lois grabbed his elbow and, with an effort to camouflage her shaky voice, insisted, “No. We… we have a job to do.”

While they were arguing, Paul knelt down and placed a gloved finger on the throat of the man for a moment before looking up, “The body’s still warm, but he’s gone. Our computer friend is correct. I knew something like this would happen.”

Lois, trying to hide her own shock, said to Eugene, “See, there’s nothing to be afraid of. The poor man is dead already, so there’s no way can he cause us any harm. Look, I understand this is completely unexpected, but why don’t you do what we came here to do? The computer is on the desk. Please examine it.”

Nervously looking at the dead man, Eugene nodded stiffly and moved around the body like a scuttling crab for cover behind the desk. He wasn’t a quitter. No one could have gone through the experiences of falling in love with a traitorous woman like Lena, being used as the patsy for her husband’s supposed murder, and fighting for his freedom, and be a coward. Yet whenever he spent time with Lois Lane and Clark Kent or, in this case the mysterious Paul Talmadge, the most remarkable events took place – such as breaking into an office building and finding a dead body! His was definitely not the normal life of a professor of computer science.

Meanwhile, Paul had been studying the dead man’s features. Lois pulled a camera out of her bag and started snapping pictures. As she did, Paul said, “I recognize the victim. This is Mr. Elden Kraft. He’s the missing accountant/computer genius everyone has been looking for. I saw a dodger on him in Bill Henderson’s office.”

Lois said, “Look at his face, those blue marks, almost like the woad markings on the Scottish Celts in Braveheart.”

“Not exactly; those markings were of a darker hue. This looks more like pool cue chalk.” Talmadge said.

“Chalk?” Lois asked.

Musingly, Talmadge said, “Yeah, like pool cue chalk. Where have we seen that before?”

There was a comment from Eugene at this point, “Hah, gotcha. I was right. It was turned off. It is booting up now. I need to look around. There may be a clue to his password somewhere here in the office.”

Laying a gentle hand on his shoulder Lois said consolingly “Go to it, Eugene. We are counting on you.”

As Lois turned away, Eugene started to examine the items in the office. There were a couple of pictures of Simcoe with a large German Shepard. He mused, “He’s a dog fancier. The password could be the dog’s name. That would make it difficult. I’d have to run a dictionary. What else is there around here?” He continued his search, riffling through papers and floppy disks scattered on the desk. Finally, he looked up at the cabinets above the desk. Prominently, in the center, sat a spreadsheet. It was quite simple, having only a date and a word scrambled next to it. Eugene turned to Lois and said, “Eureka! Apparently, he is a bug about altering his password frequently, but he is only concerned about an outsider attack.” Placing a finger on the spreadsheet, he continued, “This is a list of his passwords! I just need to go backward from today to see which one works.”

Lois said in a whisper, “’Was’. The man is dead.”

“Never mind Lois! Keep working on that machine, Eugene. We need every bit of information it spills out!” Talmadge said, with more life in his voice than usual.

“Exactly. Information. Why is Elden Kraft here in Simcoe’s office of all places? Everyone was after him. Including prominent members of Intergang,” Lois said with a sigh.
Nodding his head, Talmadge muttered, “Agreed. Why Simcoe’s office? Why not his own?

Lois lifted slender shoulders and shrugged; the man has been missing for months now. She replied, “By this time, surely his office is occupied by another accountant. Remember when we interviewed Simcoe? He was so smug about how Kraft had covered up the computer glitch which caused so many clients’ bills to go unpaid. What if all the information we need to know about Belfield’s activities and his connection to Intergang are tied up in that thing’s rusty innards?”
“But what about Kraft’s computer?” Talmadge said.

“Insurance companies are notorious for being tight-fisted. Rather than wiping the hard drive or dumping Kraft’s machine, they would have given it to someone else… like Simcoe.”

“That is cheap!” Talmadge scoffed in annoyance.

Eugene noisily turned around in his chair to join the conversation, cautiously trying not to look at the corpse that lay only a few feet away. “Oh, that’s a very common practice! Our department does that all the time. A colleague departs for whatever reason and the computer is purged of all the former teacher’s passwords and access codes. One associate jokingly said he would leave a backdoor program open so he could always have access to the department’s social calendar. Koechling will do anything for free food and drinks…”

Lois narrowed her eyes and then said, “That must be it! Secret access to whatever RoxxTen had going on. Think about it: Elden vanishes mysteriously, and his computer is taken to have its settings returned to ‘factory fresh’. But either he creates a backdoor or Simcoe gets the computer and continues taking payments from the clients, yet does not grant remuneration for medical services.”

“Good theory, Lane. But what brought Elden here tonight? Most important of all… who killed him and why?”

Rubbing her chin Lois sighed, “Let’s hope Eugene can pull something off the machine’s hard drive. That should point us in the right direction.

It only took a few minutes for Eugene to access what he needed and then insert a disk to copy information off the hard drive.

“Almost done,” Eugene said with palpable relief. Working in a room with a corpse was an unnerving experience, and he wanted it over with as soon as possible.

“Good. We can leave, and no one will ever suspect we were here,” Lois said.

Just as the computer made a short sharp sound indicating the download process was finished, Eugene removed the disk and placed it in his jacket’s inner pocket, they heard the creak of a door opening, male voices, and heavy footsteps approaching.

Swiftly Talmadge turned off the lights, grabbed Eugene and pulled him to hide in the closet. Meanwhile, Lois squeezed into the knee space under the desk, ducking out of sight.

A minute passed, as the footsteps grew closer. Abruptly the door was thrown open, and the light switch hurriedly flipped on. Apparently, the newcomers were not concerned about being discovered.

The sounds of two sets of feet could be heard. Two men: one heavyset, with shuffling steps, and the other, with ultra-light footsteps, who must be as thin as a beanpole, entered the office. With the efficient movements of an undertaker’s assistants, they came to collect Elden Kraft’s body. In the process, they struck the computer desk and bumped the monitor, which awakened from sleep mode.

“Hey McCracken, what about the computer? It’s just lit up! I thought it was off when we was here before. Maybe somebody’s here?”

With a grunt, McCracken said, “Nyah, it was probably on all the time. My nephew says computers go to sleep if nobody’s working on ‘em. Besides, if anybody’s here, I got somethin’ for them.”

“Put that gun away! We… we don’t need no more trouble! What would your geeky nephew think?” Beanpole asked nervously.

“That he needs to keep his head in the books. Look, if ya so worried about a computer, we’ll use it to weigh down the body when we toss it into Hobbs Bay. The guy who’s paying us will like that we’re cleanin’ up loose ends. Especially since he was the one to put Kraft’s lights out.”

“How’s about taking it to your nephew? Tell your sister it’s a gift.” The thin man wheezed with laughter.

“Idiot! The last thing I need is for that kid to be crawling around in a stolen computer, especially one that was used by that weasel, Simcoe. We’ll come back up here and get it after putting Kraft in the trunk.” With that, the two men exited carrying Elden Kraft’s body between them.

Lois sat under the desk thinking one of the men’s voices was familiar, when she heard the meaty thud of a body hitting the floor and McCracken’s voice from the other side of the door growl. “Hicks! Shut the lights off!”

The heavy wooden office door opened again, and they could overhear Hicks muttering darkly about how some people think they are the boss of everyone. He quickly shut off the lights, closed the door and rejoined his companion to complete their grisly task.

The sharp click of the closet door opening filled the now silent office, Talmadge whispered, “Lois, are they gone?”

“Yeah, but let’s give it another five minutes. We don’t want anyone seeing or hearing us leave. Those tile floors are noisy!”

The time passed slowly, but soon Lois peeked out from the knee space. “Whew! That was close! “Guys, let’s get out of here!”

“But what about the computer? We can’t let them take it! There might be essential information on there!” Talmadge said.

In a hoarse whisper, Lois replied, “A good investigative reporter knows when it’s time to cut and run! Those thugs are going to be back in a few minutes. Eugene, did you get everything that was on the hard drive?”

“Maybe…”

Talmadge cut through their conversation in a tone of voice that brooked no argument, “We need to leave. Now. One of those guys is armed and we have nothing to defend ourselves with.”

Without another word, Paul walked across the room and cautiously opened the door. Seeing no one in the corridor, he motioned for his associates to follow. As silently as possible, they departed the empty office and swiftly retraced their steps down the service stairway until they exited the office building into the cold winter night.

Two things hit their faces upon emerging from the building: the frigid, crisp air, and the overripe smells of rotting garbage from the dumpster. Lois slid behind the wheel, waited for Talmadge and Eugene to get in their seats, and then fired up the Jeep’s engine. They pulled out, moving toward the light at the end of the darkened alley, glad to be out of danger."

Little did they realize that a dark figure huddled beside the dumpster, watching them leave with intense eyes. The man pulled a camera from the confines of a stylishly cut black coat. As the Jeep drove out of the alley, the light from a streetlamp spilled over the vehicle and he took a single photo of the license plate.

***

Lois released the breath she had been holding as the Jeep turned a corner, narrowly missing a Metrocab. The driver leaned hard on his horn, and the deafening noise echoed down the street, but her response was to push harder on the accelerator.

“Are you trying to draw the authorities down on us?” Eugene asked nervously.

“No. I’m looking for a place to stop so I can call the cops.”

Eugene fairly squeaked, “What! Lois, why? They will know we were there at the scene of a crime. That I was there! What about that promise that my name wouldn’t come up? As reporters … especially you Miss Lane … the unexpected is expected. But with Superman gone…” His voice trailed off at the same time that Lois pulled into a brightly lit twenty-four-hour gas station.

Once the engine was silent, she turned to Eugene and said. “That promise is still good. No one needs to know Eugene Latimer was in Simcoe’s office unless you tell them. But a crime, a murder, has been committed and it must be reported. Inspector Henderson can send over his team hopefully before those two thugs get too far.”

Opening up the car door, Lois said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“What happened to your cell phone?” Talmadge asked.

Looking towards the ceiling she groaned, “Forgotten at home. Still not used to carrying the pesky thing!” With that, she jumped out of the Jeep and ran for the pay phone inside.

It was silent for a moment in the Jeep, then Talmadge, using his chin, pointed in the direction of the gas station, and spoke. “Eugene, trust her. Nothing is more important to that lady than loyalty. She will do everything in her power to keep your involvement in this situation anonymous.”

Eugene sighed then said, “I know that’s true. To be honest, if I had really wanted to stay out of this situation, I should have told both of you to leave my office. Don’t worry about me complaining anymore Mr. Talmadge. By the way, where is your cell phone?”

Embarrassed, he said, “Regardless of what everyone tells me about how important they are to modern life, I’m still not used to having a mobile, either. I forgot to put it in the docking station!”

Despite all that had happened to him that day, Eugene started to laugh. “Welcome to my world, Mr. Talmadge. My mobile is rarely charged!”

His companion gifted Eugene with a tight smile. The computer professor had turned a corner. He was going to be okay. “No need to be so formal after all we have been through this evening. Paul. My first name is Paul.”

Lois checks into a clinic that treats amnesia. While she's supposed to be recovering, one of the doctors in the clinic is brainwashing patients to commit murders. Lois' doctor, after forbidding Clark from disclosing his relationship with her, begins to fall for Lois.

-Favourite scene?
-Favourite quote?
-Fanfic recommendations?
-Plot bunnies to release?

Here’s the scoop:
The Kerth Committee is looking for volunteers to join in on the 2025 ceremony! Options are below. Please comment, email, or message me or any Kerth Committee member to let us know how you’d like to be involved!


SPEECHES:
Like Perry congratulating the newsroom when a big story breaks, you can help celebrate our writers! We have 17 categories this year, so we have opportunities for lots of presenters! Presenters write a speech (funny, sweet, serious—your choice!), and when it’s your turn to present, you’ll copy and paste your speech in (a few lines at a time) as though you were actually presenting in person. Then, after you’ve listed the nominees for the category, one of the committee members will PM you the winner for you to announce to everyone!

Here’s a sample—below is Doranwen’s speech for Best Super Short Story from the 2007 Kerth Awards Ceremony.

Not sure you can attend the ceremony? Or maybe not all of it? That’s okay! While it’s the most fun if you’re there with us, you can still write a speech and we can have someone who *can* attend paste it in for you!

Are you willing to do one or two presentation speeches? Take on all the size-related categories? Want just the comedy and the WaFFY one? Let us know—and give us a few options to choose from—and we’ll do our best to give everyone their favorites.

TECH SUPPORT:
Like resident Planet hacker Jimmy Olsen supporting our favorite heroes with gadgets from Spies ‘R’ Us, you can help us offer tech support to the FoLCs joining the awards ceremony! This will be our second Kerth ceremony on Discord, so some members are still getting a hang of how it works for the awards show. You can help FoLCs navigate the official Discord channels, as well as helping them find the official #kerth-ceremony channel and guiding them to use the split screen feature. (We can walk you through some examples to do this—it’s easy!)

There are so many different ways to join in on the fun this year!

Please respond as soon as you can to let us know how you can join in! Just comment below, email, or message any member of the Kerth Committee and let us know what you are willing to help with!

Has someone else already commented on what you wanted to work on? No worries! With a few exceptions, we can divvy up activities to spread the love around.

In the meantime, don’t forget to keep reading this year’s eligible stories and submitting those nominations!

________________________________________________

Have a question? Ask it here! Or you can PM any of the K-Com members or reach out on Discord too! You can also send an email to us here: Kcom@kerthawards.com

In order to help you find all things Kerth for this year, we’ve created a TOC for all the 🏆TOC Kerth Award Posts🏆.

The Kerth Committee
(KSaraSara, Darth Michael, lovetvfan, and JadedEvie)

**Chapter 17**
**Intergang Headquarters**

Mindy Church was fuming. She had devised the perfect plan to neutralize Superman. She had him in captivity with the journalist. She controlled them with Kryptonite and Nitrogen, she had everything to make a great reality show. She could control them, then make them suffer before killing them... and those idiot henchmen had let them go together to the bathroom, giving them the opportunity to escape!
Okay, the police arrived quickly afterward, but it didn’t change the incompetence of her staff.

Still furious, Mindy paced back and forth in her office. She couldn’t believe that her meticulously prepared plan had been sabotaged by such a ridiculous mistake.

- How could they let Superman and Lois escape? - she hissed through clenched teeth. - I had everything orchestrated! They were under our control, I had the fate of Metropolis in my hands...

She suddenly stopped in front of the large screen in her office, images of the villa where she had held Lois and Superman being broadcast in a loop on the news channels. Her hard gaze darkened even further.

- The police recovered them, and now the whole city will know I was behind all this, - she murmured, lost in thought. - But it’s not over... I won’t let these fools ruin my plans.

Mindy turned to her henchmen, who were standing nervously in a corner of the room. They all lowered their heads, unable to meet their boss’s sharp gaze.

- You have a chance to redeem yourselves, - she said coldly. - Find me a way to regain control. Superman may be weakened, but he's not out of commission yet. As for Lois Lane... She’s going to learn what it costs to meddle in my affairs.

Her men nodded, relieved to have another chance to fix their mistake.

- What I want now, - Mindy continued as she walked toward her desk, - is their public humiliation. Superman must never again be seen as a hero. I want Metropolis to see him for what he really is: a threat.

She leaned over her desk and pressed a button. A male voice came from the speaker:

- Yes, Mrs. Church?

- Prepare "Operation Disgrace." It’s time for Metropolis to start doubting Superman.

Mindy straightened up with a satisfied smile, the shadow of an even more Machiavellian plan forming in her mind. She may not have succeeded in neutralizing them this time, but she was far from losing the battle.

**Star Labs**

Superman slowly opened his eyes. An intense headache made him immediately shut them again. He murmured Lois's name. Dr. Klein, who was nearby, opened the capsule and joined him.

- Superman! It's good to have you back with us!

- Dr. Klein, what happened? How is Lois? - Superman’s voice was weak, but he tried to sit up.

Dr. Klein urged him to stay down, placing a hand on his shoulder.

- Take it easy, your body just went through a terrible ordeal. The Kryptonite was attached to your red blood cells.

Superman didn’t really listen to the response.

- How is Lois? Where is she?

- She’s fine, she’s resting. I’m going to go get her.

Dr. Klein quickly left the room to fetch Lois. Meanwhile, Superman tried to concentrate, but exhaustion was overtaking him. He sat up slightly, recalling the events that had transpired: their capture, Mindy Church’s threat, and most of all, the fear of never seeing Lois again.

Soon after, Dr. Klein returned, followed by Lois, who seemed still exhausted but relieved to see her husband awake.

- Superman! - she exclaimed, rushing toward him, tears in her eyes. She knelt beside him, taking his hand in hers. - You’re finally awake!

Superman gave her a faint smile.

- I’m sorry I worried you. I was afraid I couldn’t protect you.

- Don’t apologize, - she replied, wiping her tears. - What matters is that you’re here now.

Dr. Klein watched the scene with a mixture of admiration and compassion.

- He’s still very weak, but I’m sure that with rest and time, he’ll be back on his feet.

- Do you still have any treatments to give him?

- No, the latest tests are good, I’m confident his body is handling the rest.

- Then I think I should take him back to Clark’s and my place. He’ll be better off resting there than here, where there’s so much going on, and most importantly, it’ll be easier to hide him while he’s weakened. Clark suggested this when I called him earlier... well, if that’s alright with you, of course, - she finished, turning to Superman.

- If you don’t mind, Lois, I’d appreciate that.

**Intergang Headquarters**

Meanwhile, Mindy Church stood in front of her screen, watching the footage her teams had prepared. She had written her speech, ready to present her version of events.

- The whole world will know that Superman is not the hero he pretends to be. I’ll make everyone doubt him. It’s time for my revenge to begin.

She smiled, confident that her plan would work, ready to spread lies to achieve her goal.

Complete story and comments
Series TOC

Nine days had passed since Zor-El’s funeral and Kal-El had accepted the challenge at Abondar-El. They were in his grandmother’s office, standing in front of a large metal and glass table studying a holographic map of New Krypton when Clark’s valet, Dever entered the chamber carrying a wide blue and white porcelain tray topped with a tall pitcher of sparkling red zranya tea, glasses and plates of chilled wild vegetables and spiced fruits.

“I thought a brief repast would be just the thing to get you through this planning session,” the older man said.

“Thank you. We are also discussing a strategy of another more definitive kind,” Kal-El said, accepting a glass of tea.

“What has been whispered among the guardians is true? You have issued the ancient challenge of Single Combat to Nor?” Dever said with a somber tone.

The furtive glances exchanged between Polara and her grandson were answer enough.

As the valet began laying small plates in front of the First Lord and his grandmother, Councilman Trey entered, his long white robes of state fluttering noiselessly behind him. Lady Polara signaled him to have a seat near the table and they waited as Dever finished serving them, bowed slightly at the waist, then departed.

Once in the corridor, Dever’s pace quickened. He needed to contact someone who would give a true gauge of the First Lord’s abilities. As much as he respected Lady Lo, she was seeing Kal-El through the eyes of a grandmother and teacher, not as a stateswoman, in thinking the younger man could easily take on a man like Nor.

But Dever knew from bitter personal experience, Nor was incapable of fighting fairly.

***

After taking a quick, nervous sip from his glass of zranya, Trey began speaking. His voice was pitched in agitation. “I have just returned from the citadel. The council was in closed session and is split in the decision to allow Lord Kal-El to fight Nor.”

“A direct ancient challenge was issued in front of witnesses for single combat. We cannot disregard it. We have a decisive and legal way to end this mindless civil war once and for all.” Lady Polara Lo said passionately.

Councilman Trey held out his hands in a pleading gesture and said, “My lady, those witnesses were members of Lord Zor-El’s household, as well as the ladies Alura and Kara. Unfortunately, many on the council believe that although your grandson shows much promise with the sword, he is still an untried neophyte. For him to go up against someone with Nor’s experience in sword duels would be, well …”

“Yes, Trey?” Polara said with a voice so serene, it was frightening.

“Ah, forgive me for saying so, but it would be ritual suicide. With Lord Kal-El’s death, everything the loyal houses have fought for will be turned to ashes.”

Clark stiffened when he heard those words. Did Trey and the others have so little faith in him to think he was incapable of fighting Nor? In the past few moon rounds, he had trained tirelessly in the art of sword fighting. He had even been involved in several raids that forced him to use those skills. It was time to face Nor and get the matter of who would rule New Krypton settled once and for all.

Polara rubbed her temples. This constant bickering with the council over her grandson’s abilities was beginning to fray her resolve. Deciding to continue the discussion they were having before Trey entered, she turned to Kal-El and said, “Please Trey, make yourself comfortable and have something to eat. Pray continue Kal, what about Zara? Is she and her squadron ready to defend the provinces?”

Kal pointed at Munde Province and said, “Zara has been working with the local area commanders to implement the strategy that we developed to reinforce, on short notice, any province that comes under attack, with the reserve forces held here in Kandor. It is centrally located and can reach any other province in the shortest amount of time.”

When Kal-El finished speaking, Ching entered and wordlessly helped himself to a glass of zranya before announcing abruptly, “Jen-Mai has finally shown his true colors. He has thrown his loyalty over to Nor! Now, we know who has been supplying information to the opposition. This is a troubling situation.”

Lady Lo saw the younger man shake his head in frustration and said, “There is one possibility, without delay we must make the challenge public.

Trey closed his eyes as if in prayer. Kal-El knew that he was genuinely concerned about him, not just as the First Lord, but as a friend.

“Trey, have discussed this before, but I want to fully understand every rule applying to this challenge,” Kal-El said.

“Each of you will have a second. Kal-El would you be agreeable to having Ching serve in that capacity?”

“I would have requested him. He is a friend.” Kal-El said.

Good. Once the seconds depart the arena of conflict it is only the two combatants. Only swords are to be used. The sword type is at the discretion of the combatants. No modern weapons of any kind are to be present in the arena. Leaving the arena of conflict once combat commences is forbidden. The one that does …forfeits the contest. Any kind of interference with the ritual combat is a death penalty offense. But again, my lady, while the First Lord’s combat experience with modern weaponry is acknowledged, with a sword it is somewhat…unknown.” Trey said flatly.

“Not always …” Clark heard his grandmother mutter under her breath. Before he could ask another question, a voice broke into his thoughts.

Ching said, “Trey is right, Kal-El. Nor has prepared and dueled with swords for years. You are a comparative novice.”

The expression on her countenance thoughtful, steepling her long, strong fingers together, Lady Lo interrupted, “I am not so convinced of that as the others are. Kal-El has progressed very rapidly in his training. I think that with a little more groundwork the First Lord will be your equal, Ching. There is something else all of you are forgetting, and with each day that we do not publicize, this challenge it will give Nor a weapon that cannot be ignored.”

Puzzled, Ching asked before sipping from the glass, “What do you mean?”

“Our society for centuries has been ruled by noblemen. The only reason I was permitted to be regent ruler is that I am firstborn and as such have the rights of a male. This is the only reason I am allowed to move through the corridors of power.”

“Zor-El’s daughter, Kara, could not take the mantle of rulership because she is second born. Her older brother, Narn-El, died in his late teens.” Kal-El said thoughtfully. How many times had he wished his cousin had lived!

Polara nodded and continued, “The same rules do not apply to Kara, and since Zor-El was… infirm, the regency fell to me. Now, if we delay announcing the challenge, Nor will say that as a cowardly Terran you are hiding behind my sword and your betrothed’s energy weapons, which is why you will not fight.”

“That’s a lie!” Kal-El snapped. His pride had been wounded by her words, yet on some level, he suspected Polara’s greater knowledge of this culture made this assumption correct.

“Lady Lo has a point. It is only since New Krypton was established that women have taken more of an active role and that is a result of the reduced population. Even so, their participation was permitted most grudgingly,” Ching said with a sigh. “The Challenge will end this conflict and firmly establish your place as First Lord.”

Kal-El asked, “How does The Challenge end?”

Lady Lo hesitated, so Ching answered for her, “Usually one of the combatants is killed.”

Kal shot back, “Usually? Not all of the time?”

“There have been instances where one or the other has yielded, and his life has been spared. However, it is not required. Once on Krypton, the one that yielded died weeks later under mysterious circumstances. It was speculated but never proven that this happened so that he could not call for the challenge again.”

Kal speared a piece of bright purple spiced fruit, placed it into his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. On one hand, he felt confident in his abilities to fight Nor. He had youth, speed, and resolve on his side. On the other hand, the nobleman had been taking part in fierce matches like these for several years which gave Nor experience that he sorely lacked. Still, if he didn’t try, New Krypton would be doomed to years of a destructive civil war.

Despite all the technological advances and agricultural expansion, the colony was still working to gain a firm foothold on the planet. As Zara had mentioned previously, the planet was metal poor. Sooner or later there would be no more metal for additional growth and eventually space exploration. They would be at a standstill and then regression. If this constant aggression did not come to an end soon, there would be nothing of the Kryptonian culture remaining to battle over.

The others were silent as he considered what he had heard and came to a decision, “If it will end this war quickly, prevent the loss of more lives and get me back to Earth sooner, then we must make the challenge public immediately.”
Ching shot back, “Kal-El, you’re not ready and Nor will never show mercy if you were to yield during this fight!”

Grievously, Kal-El looked at Lady Lo and spoke to Ching in a determined voice. “As was previously mentioned, with a little more training I will be as proficient as you.”

His friend continued softly, “Kal-El, you would need to be as good as your grandmother to beat Nor.”

A low gravelly voice was heard from the doorway. “Forgive me, Commander Ching, but the First Lord of New Krypton will have to be able to best me before he can even think to fight Nor.”

Tre-Vil stood ramrod straight in the doorway, wearing not traditional dueling garb, but armor of the darkest sapphire, which gleamed in the chamber’s bright lights. His breastplate and backplates were firmly buckled in place. His articulated armor had been made from a dark glossy alloy so that from a distance one would think he wore an exoskeleton.

“Master Tre-Vil, have you come to discuss those who helped Jen-Mai steal so much from Ordnance?”

Slowly Tre-Vil shook his head, cool calm blue eyes never leaving Kal-El. “Those workers are innocent. Jen-Mai, that spineless blackheart, terrorized their loved ones. Nor threatened that if they did not do what they demanded, all would be killed. They are cooperating with us fully and my assistant is sending additional guards to the locations where the weapons are being held until Nor’s confederates can get them. I am confident many of the weapons that are missing will be recovered. Yet, as important as that news is, that’s not why I am here.”

Polara cocked her head to one side and studied him carefully. “What could be more important?”

Rather than answer, he removed the right-hand glove, held it out and bowed in the ceremonial manner, first to Kal-El and then to Lady Polara. “With all respect, my Lord Kal-El, would you please join me in the Sapphire Guardians training area. Lord Kal-El and I will clash steel.”

“We are discussing Nor’s challenge.” The young man asked, clearly confused.

The Sapphire Guardian looked at Kal-El and said in that gravel-toned voice, “This has to do with the challenge. Please, my Lord, I beg for only a fraction of your time. Follow me.”

Seeing that Tre-Vil was determined to have a moment of his time, Kal-El stood from the table. The others stood as well and followed them through the corridors to the training area, which was normally bristling with activity, even at this time. Currently, no one was in sight. The place was silent. Tre-Vil had obviously ordered the large room cleared. The environmental control was usually kept at a comfortable temperature, but now the air was hot with a dryness that seemed to parch the skin. Ching went over to the far wall to the climate controls, intending to adjust the environment.

“No need, Commander. It is set at the same weather conditions as the Qaren Forge.”

“Tre-Vil?” Polara queried with an edge to her voice.

Staring into her eyes, Tre-Vil said, “My Lady, permit this. It is crucial. Ching and you have taught him by the rules.”

He walked over to the blue sword wall covered with racks of practice weapons. Bypassing all of them, he reached one that was held up with two black and golden brackets. This particular sword was different from the others. It had a gentle curve from the tang to the tip. It was long, over an arm span, but perfectly balanced. The hilt was long enough to use two hands, however, unlike a broadsword, which needed two hands to swing, because of its weight, this sword was much lighter and could be used one-handed or two-handed as the situation required.

When Kal-El saw Tre-Vil lift the blade, he heard a slight intake of breath from both Ching and Polara.

“The Sword of Vil.” Polara whispered, “It’s not been removed from the wall in many a moon round.”

The Master of the Sapphire Guardians judiciously ignored her comment, speaking to Kal-El in a calm voice, “Kal-El … my lord, don the proper garb. Everything required is on the bench. Commander Ching, please assist him.” He nodded to a blue metal bench covered with gleaming battle armor, similar to what he wore. “I shall wait in the central training area.”

Ching and Kal-El walked over to the bench. Kal-El stripped out of his normal jacket and tunic leaving his pants on. Apparently, Tre-Vil intended to have a match with the First Lord.

Kal-El agreed with his grandmother’s plans. She had insisted on training him with the use of the sword. In fact, his one session with Tre-Vil had been his idea, unfortunately with the attack on the Ur Collective it had been cut short. Truth be told, he learned quite a bit from that one bout, and it would serve him well during his fight with Nor.

As Kal-El readied himself, Polara approached Tre-Vil, who stood impassively waiting, holding the massive sword in his hands. Her own hands were gripped in anger.

“Master Tre-Vil, what …what will be accomplished with this match?” she asked pointedly, the lady’s normally imperturbable demeanor ruffled.

He answered in a respectful tone. “A hard lesson learned, my lady, will keep your grandson… our First Lord, alive. He may have been vigorously trained by Commander Ching and yourself, but neither of you has actually faced Nor in combat. The stakes are higher, and that man will use whatever chicanery he can to win. Both of you are too honorable for such tricks and have thus trained Kal-El accordingly. Fortunately for all of us, my own training has not been so structured.”

“We’ve spent hours…”

“It shows. In the short time we practiced together, I surmised that he had learned much. The skirmishes he has participated in have given him valuable experience. But – forgive me – accepting the challenge was a brave, but foolish act on his part. Hopefully, the rashness of Lord Kal-El’s fencing style can be curbed, and what he learns today will save his life.”

Polara’s lips parted. She was about to speak, then thought better of it. The Master of the Sapphire Guardians was correct. Shame was the word that stuck in her mind like a spear. So eager was she to end this terrible war that she was willing to expend Kal-El’s life to do it.

“I… I thought…” Her normally confident voice faltered. “How did you find out about the challenge? That was only supposed to be known by us and members of the council.”

“The walls have ears. Plus, Dever came straight from your offices and told me.”

“Dever told you what?” Kal-El asked as he pulled on gloves with overlapping plates on the outer surface. The inner surface was made of a supple material covered in a tacky resin to assure a firm grip on his sword.

Tre-Vil sighed, “Pardon my lord, but at your current level of competence with the sword, facing Nor is unwise.”

“You and I have trained together, albeit briefly. I was able to handle myself.”

“That was for sport. Make no mistake, Nor shall grant no quarter. Once stepping onto the hot sands of the Qaren Forge, it will be a fight to the death. The traitor has no scruples. He will kill you.”

The five people in the large training area fell silent. The coldly matter-of-fact statement caused Kal-El’s heart to beat wildly as he thought of Lois. He only wanted to go home and marry her. He was not thinking clearly. Now there was no going back. As if to confirm those bitter words, he said, “Ching… Grandmother?”

“Master Tre-Vil is correct, Kal-El,” Ching said quietly.

Polara, now chastened said, “My battles with Nor were only fought in the council chambers. Master Tre-Vil is an expert. He faced him once, here in this very room over fifteen of your years ago.”
“Twice. The first time was on Old Krypton.” Tre-Vil said grimly, correcting her.

Surprised, she looked at him and spoke softly. “I thought it was only the once.”

Tre-Vil’s face became hard, and he said with a voice like iron. “Ask him about that scar on the left side of his face…the one he said he got while ‘hunting’.” He turned away from her and said to Kal-El, “Lord Kal-El… now we fight.”

Twenty minutes later, the two men were still fighting in the central training area. The sound of swords clashing, and the harsh rasp of their breathing was the only sound to be heard. Beneath the heavy sapphire armor, their bodies were slick with perspiration.

Tre-Vil used the weight and sheer brute force of his sword to push back any attempt by Kal-El to gain the upper hand. After the fourth pass he saw the pattern that Kal-El was falling into and knew that there would be a brief opening shortly. He waited patiently for the opening to appear. When it did, he struck definitively. After a low right sweeping cut, as Kal-El was shifting for an overhead cut Tre-Vil struck. He found a spot on Kal-El’s right forearm that was unprotected by armor, in fact, it was the underside, and his slashing cut not only drew blood, but it also cut the strap that held that part of his armor in place. Kal-El’s forearm guard started flapping around with his advances, becoming something of a hindrance.

Never uttering a sound and with a hasty movement, Kal-El switched hands and continued the fight.

Tre-Vil was pleased to see him switch to his left hand. “Good.” He thought, The lady has taught him to use both hands and remain silent. For someone so inexperienced, the man holds much promise.

Lady Polara Lo stood transfixed at the brilliant display of swordsmanship from both master and apprentice; Tre-Vil for the grace and elegance experience had wrought and Kal-El for the determination and power to hold his own against the older man. But to her practiced eye, it was her grandson, and not the older Tre-Vil, who was past his prime, who was tiring.

Tre-Vil could sense it as well and began hammering away at Kal-El’s defenses, pushing him across the central combat area and into a corner. He wanted to see if Kal-El would rally, give into anger and strike back with untamed emotion.
To his disappointment, the First Lord did just that, making unintelligent arm movements, fit only for an absolute beginner. Tre-Vil allowed Kal-El to take the offensive again. This time, as he gave ground when he stepped back his right foot came down on a slightly uneven spot on the floor of the training room. Tre-Vil sprang forward to land another blow. For a second he lost his balance and even though Kal-El brought his sword up to guard he wasn’t fast enough to prevent an overhand strike completely. Kal-El could see Tre-Vil’s blade come down to strike his head.

“Tre-Vil!” Polara and Ching shouted at the same time.

The blade halted less than an inch from Kal-El’s skin. If it had not been for the master’s quickness, the blade would have gone through the mask and the First Lord would have lost his eye.

All was silence. Then, with a deep sigh, Tre-Vil straightened, bowed, and with an easy step, that belied his fatigue, walked over to the solitary rack and replaced the Sword of Vil.

Kal-El was actually struggling to stand, and Polara halted Ching from attempting to go over and assist. Tre-Vil returned to the First Lord and extended his hand and saying. “Nor’s reach is longer. His sword, I suspect, will be much heavier. He will use every skill and trick to defeat you.”

Kal-El looked up, a sheepish expression on his sweat-drenched face, and accepted the offered hand. Once on his feet, he said, “I… I have much to learn. But Master Tre-Vil, so much… depends on me winning the challenge!” He said between labored breaths. “I must try!”

The older man shook his sweat drenched head and said, “No. Trying will lead to death. You must attack without mercy. Get some rest. Meet me here tomorrow before first light. Together… we will attempt to even the odds.”

He turned to Lady Polara and Ching, bowed with deep respect, and exited the training area. Once the door closed behind him, they did not see him nearly collapse with muscle strain and exhaustion. Dever stood nearby waiting with a solidly built young man. The old attendant came running up and allowed the Master of the Sapphire Guardians to lean on him.

“Were you successful?” Dever asked breathlessly.

“Lesson learned,” Tre-Vil answered. The boy… can fight. Quickly, take me to my rooms, use … use the servant passages. I do not relish having anyone from the Sapphire Guardians see me like this.”

Shaking his head, Dever indicated that the young man come over. Swiftly, he transferred the burden of Tre-Vil’s weight to his strong, young shoulders. “You know my great-grandson, Bacca. He will take you to your apartments. My dear wife has already prepared wine, food, and a soothing hot mineral bath. I must be in my Lord Kal-El’s quarters when he arrives. He will have questions.”

Wincing in pain, Tre-Vil agreed, “I have no doubt of that.”

With those words, Dever hurried down the corridor towards Kal-El’s residence, while a reticent Bacca helped Tre-Vil to the comfort of his own quarters.
***
The small group returned to Polara’s office and sat down with Kal-El, Trey and Ching. The group discussed the sword lesson he had just endured.

Lady Lo turned to the young man, smiled sadly, and said, “Tre-Vil is the master of the Sapphire Guardians. I should have given him the task of training you.”

Kal asked, “Once the challenge is issued, how long until the actual combat?”

Ching answered with a sigh of resignation that his friend was determined to see this challenge through no matter what. “That is to be decided in the negotiations.”

“No. According to the ancient laws since he is the aggressor and I the First Lord, I shall set the time and place.” Kal-El turned to Polara and said, “Grandmother, how much time do you think I will need?”

She replied, “With Tre-Vil as your guide, perhaps two weeks… perhaps more.”

Kal-El turned to the councilman and said authoritatively, “Lord Trey, I request for you to act as my spokesperson. Open a line of communication with Nor’s people. I have no doubt Jen-Mai has slithered over to their side. Inform him that he shall act as Nor’s representative to proffer the challenge to single combat. The meeting is to take place in two weeks’ time at Qaren Forge.”

Nodding slightly, and unenthusiastically, Trey said with a deep bow, “It will be as you wish, Lord Kal-El.”

After the council member was gone, Polara allowed her expression to darken into a scowl. She took a brief sip of wine, staring through the glass as if it were not there and then grumbled. “Jen-Mai’s nature, even as a youth, was shallow and treacherous. The only reason he was on the Convoca is due to his noble bloodline. His grandparents, Lord Re-Mai and the Lady Yaylon were among the finest of Kryptonian nobility. It sickens me to imagine how they would feel, knowing, despite all their efforts, he has lived down to the promise of his younger days.

Turning to Ching she said, “Once Kal-El returns to Terra, you, Zara, and your contemporaries will have much to do to put an end to the ancient traditions which are strangling New Krypton’s growth. Going forward, our leaders must be chosen by merit, not by an ancestor’s accomplishments that took place on a dead planet.”

“That will be a trial in itself my lady.” Ching said diplomatically.

She studied him, cool violet eyes with a touch of sadness. “Not so. My generation is dying out. Inevitably, there will be no one alive who remembers what life was like on our home world. If our culture is to survive, nay, thrive, we must move past the old ways.” Running her hands through silver hair, she continued. “I pray I live long enough to see such changes.”

Since I made you wait for part eight for so long, here’s the next chapter, I hope you’ll enjoy. Thanks to JadedEvie for her excellent beta reading.

Chapter 9



For a long time I am just sitting there, crying desperately without knowing why. I can’t shake the feeling of having lost something important.

A terrible feeling grips me - time is slipping away, and I’m powerless to stop it. The chill in my veins has nothing to do with the weather.

The Planet is lost and all I have left in my life is Lex, who didn’t seem happy when I postponed our meeting.

But why did I postpone?

My life is unraveling. Lex is the only solid ground I have left - so why do I feel like I’m slipping away from him?

I don’t understand myself during the previous days, I’ve had countless blackouts and done strange things.

Maybe it’s the stress of losing the Planet? Putting my hands in my pockets to protect them from the cold, I discover the ring Lex gave me. My engagement ring - why did I take it off? I did accept Lex’ proposal, didn’t I?

I slide the ring back onto my finger. It fits, yet it feels foreign - heavy, as if it carries a weight beyond its size.

The rain has picked up and became a winter storm. I walk back, thinking about that last conversation with Clark. It seems I had another blackout then, and he seemed distressed… I wonder what has happened?

About one block from my apartment a noise startles me, but I’m too lost in my thoughts to pay attention to my surroundings.

Seconds later, I hear a screeching noise and turn my head, just as a large car slides with speed in my direction.

Then there’s a loud crash, and I see Lex’ limousine has stopped the car’s advancement towards me.

“Lex!” I scream, as I see him get out of the back of the car. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. I was on my way to your apartment when I saw that car losing its grip, going in your direction. I ordered Nigel to put the limousine in front of you to protect you.”

“Oh, Lex, thank you!” I exclaimed, kissing him. “Why were you coming over?”

“Darling, I was worried when you canceled our meeting today, and I wanted to see if you needed anything. I was worried, since you seemed hesitant about my proposal yesterday.” Then he took my hand in his and kissed the ring finger. “But I see, you have made the right decision.”

I nod, not sure what to say.

Superman lands with a thud, his rain-soaked cape billowing in the icy wind. His eyes, usually steady as the stars, are storm-dark with something unreadable - concern, exhaustion, maybe even regret. His gaze locks onto me and for a brief moment, there's a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

“Are you alright?” His voice is deep, carrying an undertone of urgency. If I didn’t know any better I would swear I could detect a slight shiver in his stance but that’s impossible, Superman doesn’t feel the cold. He’s invulnerable.

I nod, though the words catch in my throat. Lex’s arm tightens around my waist, a possessive gesture that I barely register, my mind still reeling from the near miss and the strangeness of the day.

“Thank you, Superman,” Lex says smoothly. “I’m grateful for your swift response, but as you can see, everything is under control now.”

Superman doesn’t respond immediately. His eyes shift from Lex to me, lingering on my face as though searching for something. There’s an intensity in his gaze that roots me to the spot, like he’s trying to reach me through something unseen.

“I was nearby when I heard the crash,” Superman finally says, his gaze softening ever so slightly. “People often get too careless when driving in this weather.”

A shiver runs down my spine, but it’s not from the cold. There’s something about his tone, the way he’s looking at me, that feels... off. Like he knows more than he’s letting on.

“I’m fine,” I manage to say, though my voice sounds distant, even to my own ears. “Thanks for... for checking on me.”

Superman’s jaw tightens slightly, and for a moment, he looks as if he wants to say something - something important. His eyes flicker to the engagement ring on my finger, and a shadow crosses his face, too quick to name. Regret? Anguish? But then it’s gone, buried beneath the controlled calm of Superman, the hero, the symbol.

“Be careful,” he says, more softly this time and it seems he doesn’t mean the accident I was almost part of. He nods to us before he turns and leaps into the air, disappearing into the dark sky as swiftly as he arrived.

The silence that follows is heavy, punctuated only by the steady patter of rain. I realize Lex is watching me closely, his sharp eyes missing nothing.

“Superman has a way of showing up at the right time,” Lex comments, his tone casual, but his grip on my waist still firm. “Though I wonder... what could have caused him to be so concerned, darling?”

I open my mouth to respond, but the words falter. The truth is, I don’t know. Everything feels so disjointed, like pieces of a puzzle that just don’t fit together. The blackouts, the strange things I’ve been doing, the way Superman looked at me just now, nothing makes sense.

Lex gently turns me to face him, his expression softening as he brushes a wet strand of hair from my forehead. “You’ve been through a lot,” he says, his voice low and soothing. “I understand if you’re feeling overwhelmed. But remember, you don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here for you, always.”

His words are comforting, yet there’s a lingering doubt at the back of my mind. I can’t shake the feeling that something crucial is slipping through my fingers, something I’ve forgotten or overlooked. The ring on my finger feels heavier than ever, like a weight tethering me to something I can’t quite grasp.

“I know,” I whisper, more to convince myself than him.

“Take all the time you need,” Lex replies, his smile warm, but his eyes calculating. “We’ll get through this together.”

As he leads me to a taxi Nigel has called, I can’t help but glance back at the spot where Superman had stood, the uneasy feeling in my chest growing stronger. There’s something wrong, something I can’t quite put my finger on, but it’s there, lurking in the shadows of my mind.

And as the car pulls away, the city lights blurring into streaks of color against the rain-streaked windows, I can’t help but wonder what I’ve lost... and if I’ll ever be able to find it again.

~~~

The following weeks pass in a whirlwind of preparations, with each day blending into the next. From the moment I wake up until I collapse into bed at night, my life is consumed by the details of the upcoming wedding. Lex seems determined to make sure everything is perfect, sparing no expense and leaving no stone unturned.

“Just relax, darling,” Lex often says, his tone always warm and reassuring as he arranges yet another meeting with a high-profile wedding planner or organizes a private fitting for my dress. “You deserve the best and I'm going to make sure you have it.”

And he does.

The dress fittings take place in an exclusive boutique, where I’m surrounded by walls of silk, satin and lace. The designer, a renowned name I'd only seen in glossy magazines before this, fusses over every detail of my gown, ensuring that it fits me like a glove. I can’t deny that the dress is stunning, a masterpiece of craftsmanship that makes me feel almost like a queen. But there’s a strange, detached feeling whenever I look at myself in the mirror, as if I’m watching someone else go through the motions.

My days are filled with endless meetings with caterers, florists and decorators, all of whom cater to my every whim with a mixture of reverence and fear. Lex’s influence is everywhere, his wealth and power smoothing over every potential problem before it even arises. I barely have time to think, let alone feel, as I’m whisked from one appointment to the next.

Is this my future? A life of pristine gowns and carefully curated appearances, while my husband orchestrates the world around me?

In those rare quiet moments, usually late at night when the apartment is dark and silent, I can’t help but feel a creeping sense of unease. It’s as though I’m being kept busy on purpose, every minute of my day accounted for, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation. I tell myself that this is just pre-wedding jitters, that every bride must feel overwhelmed at some point. But the nagging feeling that something is off never quite goes away.

Lex, of course, is always there, his presence comforting, yet somehow overwhelming. He takes care of everything, often without even asking for my input. At first, I’m grateful; who wouldn’t want to be pampered and adored? But as the days turn into weeks, I begin to realize how little control I actually have over any of it. Everything seems to be happening around me, rather than with me, and it leaves me with an odd sense of disconnection.

I find myself thinking back to that day in the rain, the memory of Superman’s concerned gaze lingering in the back of my mind. But every time those thoughts surface, I’m quickly distracted by another task, another decision that needs to be made. There’s no time to dwell on the past, not when there are menus to finalize, seating charts to arrange and vows to write.

As the wedding draws closer, Lex becomes even more attentive, if that’s possible. He showers me with gifts — a necklace here, a pair of diamond earrings there – and arranges luxurious spa days to help me relax. Each gesture is more grandiose than the last and while I’m touched by his efforts, a part of me wonders if it’s all just a way to keep me occupied, to keep me from questioning anything.

Finally, two days before the wedding, I find myself alone in my apartment for the first time in weeks. The silence is almost deafening, a stark contrast to the constant buzz of activity that has surrounded me. I sit by the window, watching the city lights twinkle against the night sky and for the first time in a long while, I allow myself to think.

I haven’t even been back to work at LNN, I realize. I never even thought about it.

The wedding is in two days. The thought should fill me with excitement, but instead, I feel a strange sense of detachment, as if I’m standing on the edge of something vast and unknown, looking at myself.

As I gaze out at the city, I can’t help but wonder what Superman is doing right now. Is he out there, somewhere, watching over the city like he always does? Does he ever think about that day in the rain, the look we shared before he flew away?

I push the thought away, forcing myself to focus on the ring’s cold brilliance. It’s beautiful - undeniably so. A perfect symbol of the life I’m stepping into. I’ve made my decision and the day after tomorrow, I’ll see it through. So why does it feel like I’m locking a door behind me?

But as I turn away from the window and head to bed, I can’t shake the feeling that something is still missing, something important that I can’t quite remember.

T. B. C.

Feedback can go below

I’m so sorry for the late post, work is claiming most of my energy and this chapter was the one I wasn’t really confident about.
This week I finally managed to make the last edits and now it’s ready to post.
As always, big thanks to JadedEvie for her BR and feedback it has helped me so much.

Now here’s the next part

Chapter 8

Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.

Cold, gray light seeps through the window, dragging me from a restless sleep. My body feels heavy, my throat raw - had I been crying, or was that just another dream bleeding into reality? The sheets are damp, twisted around me, as if I fought something in the night.

Memories flicker and blur, slipping from my grasp. Yesterday was a mess. Worse, I can’t tell if I’m forgetting the future or remembering things that never happened.

In my timeline, today was full of wedding planning - fittings, invitations, endless decisions.

All things considered, it seems Lex had already arranged everything before I even realized how trapped I was… not even considering the possibility that I would dare say no.

And now, I don’t know what’s real anymore.

Still tangled in the sheets, my counterpart dials Lex’s number with slow, deliberate movements. Her thumb hesitates over the last button. Doubt. Hesitation. Maybe my presence still lingers at the edges of her mind.

The diamond ring sits heavy in her pocket, a silent verdict waiting to be delivered. But I know Lex. He doesn’t take no for an answer.

She exhales, steadying herself. “Just a short conversation, to clarify.”

The phone barely rings twice before his voice slides through the speaker, smooth and practiced. “Lois, good morning my dear,” he drawls. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so early.”

She swallows. “Good morning Lex, I realized we didn’t actually discuss what comes next.”

“Of course, my dear. I assumed you’d need some time to align your thoughts. But you know me - I believe in decisive action. Shall I send my chauffeur?”

A pause. Not a question. An expectation.

“No, that won’t be necessary. I won’t be meeting you today.”

Silence. I picture him in his opulent office, fingers steepled, expression unreadable. “And why is that?” His tone sharpens, the warmth thinning.

“I’m not feeling well,” she says. “Something from the retirement party, maybe. It wouldn’t be fair to discuss our future while I’m under the weather.”

He scoffs. “Weakness doesn’t suit you, my dear. I assumed, given your call, that you’d had time to reflect and were ready to continue our discussion.”

Her grip tightens on the phone. “Plans change.” A beat. “It’s not like we set anything in stone.”

A hum of consideration, then, smoothly, as if amused: “Ah. I simply thought you’d want to finalize things sooner rather than later. But of course, I understand - decisions of this magnitude require clarity.”

A pause, deliberate. Then, lighter, almost indulgent: “You know, Lois, hesitation often stems from uncertainty. Are you sure you’re feeling unwell, Lois? You seemed fine last night. If something is troubling you, I’d be more than happy to put your mind at ease.”

Frustration flashes through me. Say something. Push back.

“I still need time,” she says at last, voice firm. “You can’t rush this.”

Lex exhales, slow and deliberate. “Time,” he muses. “A luxury you seem to take for granted.”

She closes her eyes. I can almost feel her mind turning, working through the unease curling in her gut. “You proposed,” she says carefully, “but that doesn’t mean I’ve said yes.”

“But you took the ring,” he counters, silken and knowing. “That’s as good as an acceptance.”

“It’s complicated,” she admits. “I need to be sure.”

His chuckle is dark, edged with something almost amused. Almost. “I trust you’ll make the right choice. But remember, Lois - I don’t wait.”

A beat, followed by a slight shiver. Then her voice, quiet but steady. “I’ll talk to you later, Lex.”

She ends the call. The weight of it lingers. Her fingers press into the sheets, tension humming beneath her skin. She felt it - something - the wrongness in his tone, in the way he expected her to fall in line.

I sink back into the quiet. How did I ever think I belonged in his world?

My stomach twists.

And what if what you want, Lex, isn’t what I want?

I already know the answer.

At some point, she rises, moving through the apartment with restless energy. Coffee. A simple enough task, but that doesn’t silence the thoughts creeping in. She may be relieved to have avoided Lex, but the quiet leaves too much space for reflection - on choices made, paths lost, failures that still sting.

She paces, sits in the loveseat, then stands again. Polishes the Kerths. Finds another task. Anything to keep moving.

By early afternoon, she dresses and heads out. And then, suddenly, we’re here - standing before the ruins of the Daily Planet.

The air is thick with memory. This place holds so much of me.

I see it all at once - my first interview with Perry, Jimmy’s eager grin, the quiet strength in Perry’s voice when he helped me pick up the pieces after Claude. Jimmy, laughing as he taught me how to boost a car.

Meeting you.

The thought alone sends a jolt through me. The moment everything changed.

This building was more than just work. It was home. A place where truth mattered. Where Perry, Jimmy, and - you - became my family.

Then, unbidden, a memory rises.

A conversation. Weeks ago. Eugene hiding in my apartment. You, insisting I call the police. You, standing firm on honesty. And me, pushing back, asking for your biggest secret.

You hesitated. Then told me about your mother’s possible affair. A safe truth, carefully chosen.

I remember how it stung. How I knew you were holding something back.

But now, standing in the wreckage of our past, I understand.

You aren’t like the others. Not like Lex, not like Claude. You never were.

~~~

"Clark," I began, studying you across the newsroom. "Why do you always insist on sticking to the truth, no matter what?"

You looked up from your desk, eyes steady, unwavering. "Because the truth matters, Lois. It's the foundation of trust. Without it, everything crumbles."

I exhaled slowly, the weight of your words settling over me. I had learned the hard way how easily trust could be shattered - Claude had made sure of that. His lies weren’t outright falsehoods; they were carefully spun half-truths, dressed just convincingly enough to pass as reality. He always said that bending the truth for the sake of a good story was just part of the job. And despite despising him, some part of me had absorbed that lesson.

Was there really a difference between telling the truth and telling the whole truth?

I cringed at my own history. I had stolen the first Superman story from you, justifying it to myself, but the guilt still gnawed at me. How many times had I blurred the lines, convinced I was doing the right thing?

Your expression softened, as if you could see the conflict in my eyes. "The truth isn’t always easy, but I think it’s necessary. We can tell it with empathy, with respect. And sometimes, yes, omitting a detail might be the right call - to protect someone, to safeguard a greater truth. But deception? That’s a different story."

I folded my arms, resisting the urge to pace. “But sometimes bending the truth does serve a greater purpose.” I thought of Sebastian Finn, how I had claimed to have seen his face just to lure him out. “If it helps stop a criminal, if it forces the right outcome - doesn’t that justify it? Isn’t there room for interpretation?”

You held my gaze, a quiet challenge in your expression. Then, you smiled, just slightly. “Storytelling is powerful. But it shouldn’t come at the expense of the truth.” Your voice was calm, assured. “We can craft narratives without twisting facts. It’s about balance - being honest, being responsible with the trust people place in us. Because once we start compromising, where does it end?”

I wanted to argue. Claude had made me question everything. But looking at you, listening to you… I realized that, deep down, I wanted to believe you were right.

~~~

I open my eyes, the memory fading, but the warmth of it lingering. Through moments like these we became more than just colleagues. We became friends. And now, more than ever, we need that friendship to survive to prevent the future that… sci-fi writer has shown me with the newspaper.

There is still so much to do, and I can’t afford to dwell on the past for too long. But for now, this moment of reflection gives me the strength to move forward.

And right on cue, my past self moves forward. I can only hope that she’ll take a path I would choose myself.

The direction soon becomes clear - your apartment is close by. Perfect. Maybe this will be my chance.

But the growing weight in my chest is impossible to ignore. With every step, the ever-present fear of failure tightens around me. Too often, I have stood helpless, watching as the future shattered before my eyes.

The path feels endless, the cold air sharp against my skin. The city in winter carries a distinct scent - exhaust fumes, damp pavement, the faint bitterness of something burning in the distance. It grounds me in the present, but my mind keeps slipping elsewhere, spiraling through scenarios of what might come next.

Finally, your building looms ahead. My heart pounds as I reach your door, my breath shallow. I raise my hand to knock, but hesitation coils in my gut. What if you’re not home? What if you’re not alone? What if you don’t want to talk to me?

If Perry, Jimmy, or Jack open the door instead, I won’t be able to speak. I can’t explain why I’m here - I barely know myself. And if I break down, how will I ever put myself back together?

A noise behind me jolts me from my thoughts. And then, suddenly - you’re there.

The sight of you steals the breath from my lungs. You look… drained. More than just tired - hollow, as if something vital has been stripped away. It takes only a moment for realization to strike like a hammer to my chest. The Series K field test.

Oh, God.

I should have listened. I should have investigated. I could have stopped this.

My lips part, but before I can speak, I feel the first drop of rain on my skin. As if in sympathy, the sky opens, a cold drizzle falling between us. I shiver and tighten my coat around me.

Your eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the world fades. The exhaustion in your gaze is unmistakable, but beneath it, tangled with worry and pain, is something even more overwhelming - love.

“Lois?” Your voice is hoarse, strained. “You’re going to get cold.” Even now, you worry about me first.

You step closer, and the warmth radiating from you - whether from your body or from a barely restrained flicker of heat vision - seeps into me. I close my eyes for a brief second, breathing in the familiar scent of your aftershave, grounding myself in you.

“Clark, I… I need to talk to you.” My voice barely rises above a whisper. The words are slipping, my thoughts foggy, as if I’m grasping at something just out of reach.

You nod, but I can see it - this night has already drained you. The burden of being Superman, the weight of keeping your secret, the effects of kryptonite - all of it pressing down on you alongside everything we’ve never said.

“Come inside,” you say gently. “Perry and the others…”

“No.” I shake my head, desperation threading through my voice. “Clark, this is private. It’s about Lex.” I falter. How do I even begin to explain the darkness looming over us, the memories slipping like sand through my fingers?

Your jaw tightens, a flicker of something unreadable passing over your face. “Lois, can it wait?” The weariness in your tone cuts deep. “I don’t think I have the energy to talk about him right now.”

The air between us crackles with tension, with everything left unspoken.

“No, it’s not what you think.” I struggle to force the words out, the urgency pressing against my ribs. “I don’t know how long I have left to say this. I… I remembered something. Or I think I did. It’s all so fuzzy.”

You rub your temples, wincing slightly. “Lois…” Your voice is strained, almost pleading. “Please, just say it.”

I swallow hard. “Lex… he asked me to marry him.” The words feel foreign in my mouth. “But I… I don’t…”

Why? Why wouldn’t I marry Lex? The answer is there, just beyond my grasp, slipping further away the harder I reach for it.

Your eyes close briefly, and when you open them, I see nothing but exhaustion. “Lois, I need to rest. Can we talk later?”

A part of me screams in frustration. Later might be too late.

“No, Clark! You have to understand. Lex wants to - he’s planning something.” My breath catches. “And I know you’re…”

But the thought vanishes before I can finish it.

Panic rises, icy and sharp. I know who you are. I know. But the truth is slipping through my fingers, leaving only fragments behind.

Your sigh is barely audible, but the emotion in it cuts through me like a blade. “You’ll figure it out, Lois,” you murmur. “Just… let me sleep. We’ll talk later.”

I watch, helpless, as you reach for the door.

“I’m sorry, Clark.” The words tremble on my lips, barely more than a breath.

You pause, hand resting on the handle. When you speak again, your voice is soft, raw with emotion. “I know.” A beat of silence. Then, almost too quiet to hear - “And I’d follow you through hell and back. Just… not today.”

I want to scream, to shake you, to force the words out of my broken mind before it’s too late. But I can’t. I don’t even remember why.

So I turn away, each step echoing the defeat weighing down my chest.

Out of sight, my legs give way, and I sink against the cold brick wall. The rain mingles with my tears, washing them away before they can even fall properly.

I’ve failed you, Clark. Failed us both.

And I don’t even know how.

T. B. C.

Feedback can go below…

Welcome to the 2024 Kerth Quiz: Double Fudge Crunch Round


SPIFFY DISCLAIMER THINGY!: All the stories featured in this quiz qualify for the Kerth Awards overall, across various categories, but this quiz is not a stamp of recommendation for nomination. There are so many more fantastic stories which qualify for the Kerths, but this quiz only covers 7 randomly chosen ones.
(Instructions are blatantly copied/linked from previous Kerth Quizzes.)

RECOMMENDATIONS: Don't forget that recommendations for other favorite eligible stories are *very* welcome and encouraged! Have a favorite that didn’t fit into a previous category? Add it here! So don't forget to add these in a section after your guesses!

QUIZ RULES: TWO points for getting the story and author from the QUOTE; this is the ‘DOUBLE’ in the Double Fudge Crunch Round. These are a little harder, so be sure to read carefully for clues that might help you! Plus, shiny gold stars for those who recognize their own stories. Please don't forget to mention which number you're answering. Rule recap: Open hard drive and open boards (+AO3!), *don't* forget to snip out the excerpts in your replies, and don't forget the spoiler tag when you post in the replies thread.
CATEGORY: While these quizzes have covered 8 categories, the Kerths have 17 categories overall! This quiz could pull from ANY of those categories.

HINTS: There are no repeating authors within this quiz. One and a half of the stories have been in previous quizzes. Look for context clues - this format is designed to be tough, but I’ve intentionally tried to pull quotes that will guide you to find the story titles! There are no tricks here, just treats (the ‘FUDGE’ in the Double Fudge Crunch Round.)
The DEADLINE for entries for this quiz is SUNDAY, MARCH 9, 2024, by 11:59 p.m (Eastern Time Zone). (This is the ‘CRUNCH’ in the Double Fudge Crunch Round; you’ve only got half the time to reply!)
(And don’t worry – you still have until March 9, to answer the Micro-Short quiz, too!)


This is the LAST QUIZ of the 2025 Kerth Season! So be sure to get your answers in and rack up those last points!

Here’s the full list of Eligible Stories.

Here are the full quiz instructions: Countdown to Kerth Quizzes Extended Instructions and Disclaimers.

Please post your answers HERE.

Good luck!
Evie

__________________________


EXCERPT #1: The Fourth of July picnic progressed just as Lois had imagined it would.

EXCERPT #2: As she took a sip of her coffee, her eyes drifted toward the bag from their advent calendar, placed neatly on the table beside the tree.

EXCERPT #3: I’d taken a chance on warming the coffee but had overdone it.

EXCERPT #4: Joy stared back at his fellow emotions, a deep frown creasing his brows.

EXCERPT #5: Lois could see the lights and garlands decorating the house as she approached the still-open door, and she could feel the warmth from the kitchen as it beckoned her into the house.

EXCERPT #6: By some miracle, she hadn't yet gotten frost-bite despite the lack of socks or gloves.

EXCERPT #7: As far as spaceships went, it was hardly impressive, it reminded her of something an overzealous fanboy might build in their garage.


Good luck, everyone!
________________________________________________


Have a question? Ask it here! Or you can PM any of the K-Com members or reach out on Discord too! You can also send an email to us here: Kcom@kerthawards.com

In order to help you find all things Kerth for this year, we’ve created a TOC for all the 🏆TOC for Kerth Awards 2025 Posts🏆.

The Kerth Committee
(KSaraSara, Michael, lovetvfan, and Evie)

Hi FoLCs!

Here is the update of new fic (gathered typically through the end of the month). Links at http://www.lcficdirectory.com/pgindex

New Stories:
The Best Man (Kerth Challenge #3) by 90stvfangirl
Good Night, Lois - Fly With Me by bakasi
Good Night, Lois - Hook’s Treasure by bakasi
Good Night, Lois – Tick Tock by bakasi

New Parts:
The Courier by Morgana
Mad Dog Lane by Kathryn84
Manipulation and Destruction by Aurore
Marriage of State by AmandaK

Completed Stories:
The Best Man (Kerth Challenge #3) by 90stvfangirl
Good Night, Lois - Fly With Me by bakasi
Good Night, Lois - Hook’s Treasure by bakasi
Good Night, Lois – Tick Tock by bakasi

New TOCs:
The Best Man (Kerth Challenge #3) by 90stvfangirl
Good Night, Lois - Fly With Me by bakasi
Good Night, Lois - Hook’s Treasure by bakasi
Good Night, Lois – Tick Tock by bakasi

Added to the Archive:
None

Enjoy!
Dawn & the Index Crew

Welcome to the 2025 Kerth Quiz: Micro Story

SPIFFY DISCLAIMER THINGY!: All the stories featured in this quiz qualify for the Best Micro Story, but this quiz is not a stamp of recommendation for nomination. There are more fantastic stories which qualify for this category, but this quiz only covers 7 randomly chosen ones.
(Instructions are blatantly copied/linked from previous Kerth Quizzes.)

RECOMMENDATIONS: Don't forget that recommendations for other favorite eligible stories are *very* welcome and encouraged! So don't forget to add these in a section after your guesses!

QUIZ RULES: One point each for getting the story and author from the quote. Plus, shiny gold stars for those who recognize their own stories. Please don't forget to mention which number you're answering. Rule recap: Open hard drive and open boards (+AO3!), *don't* forget to snip out the excerpts in your replies, and don't forget the spoiler tag when you post in the replies thread.
CATEGORY: These are stories that are up to approximately 900 words (1-5kb)

The DEADLINE for entries for this quiz is SATURDAY, MARCH 9, 2025, by 11:59 p.m (Eastern Time Zone).

Here’s the full list of Eligible Stories.

Here are the full quiz instructions: Countdown to Kerth Quizzes Extended Instructions and Disclaimers.

Please post your answers HERE.

Good luck!
Evie

__________________________


EXCERPT #1:
Clark couldn’t cover up his grin. This undercover assignment had been surreal. While the story had been good, the company had been amazing. Despite Lois’ prickly exterior, he knew she was becoming more and more comfortable with him. Their assignment, which had necessitated them both being together constantly and in the same suite for several days, hadn’t shown him anything new about her, but had only deepened his understanding and desire. She was witty, extremely competitive, and the more time he spent with her, the more he knew she was the-

“CK!”

Clark’s pleasant train of thought was interrupted as Jimmy bounded enthusiastically towards them.

“You finally took your ring off! You were wearing that thing everywhere!”

Clark squirmed at Jimmy’s comment. He had worn it everywhere as it was part of the undercover persona. Lois had worn her ring, too, though no one was pointing that out.

“He even slept with it on!” Lois mocked.

“You didn’t?” Jimmy asked Clark incredulously, missing the glint of teasing in Lois’ eyes.

Clark didn’t answer. He had slept with it on. Had Lois just said that in jest, or had she seen him?

“Do you leave your glasses on too?” Jimmy teased.

“No,” Clark answered, his mind running in many different directions. He had taken his glasses off when he slept, but had left the ring on. Had Lois seen him sleeping, but he hadn’t heard her?

“Lois! Clark!” Perry’s booming voice interrupted the conversation. “Good to have you two back in the newsroom.”

As Perry talked, Clark listened, allowing the conversation to distract him from anxious thoughts.



EXCERPT #2:
I’m here for a different reason tonight. And I hope they don’t know that I’m here—my parents. I hope they can’t sense me out here, not too far from the farmhouse. Because tonight, I came here needing to think.

My whole life, I’ve been different. And because of that, I’ve kept everyone at arms’ length. I’ve spent years heeding my dad’s warnings to keep my abilities hidden, years actively hiding who I am and what I can do, years struggling to be…careful. All. The. Time.

But today…today I met someone, and in the moment we met, I knew…something was different about her. She was like sunshine. Warm, life-giving sunshine. And something about her made my heart stutter and race. Even now, I can barely keep myself grounded. I feel light, as though gravity doesn’t exist.

Of course, in the next moment after meeting her, I was rejected for the job I’d applied to. So I’m…not sure what’s going to happen now.



EXCERPT #3:
"Clark, no! Don't let —" Lois called, but it was too late. The dog was already in bed with him.

"I'm sorry, honey," Clark said, unconvincingly, as the dog licked his entire face. "But I —" He stopped as the dog shifted to reach the other side of his head and, in the process, covered his nose and mouth with a furry chest. Clark's hand ruffled the side of the dog's belly.

"Clark, you can't keep letting him do this."

"I know, honey," he said, still unconvincingly. The dog was now lying on the pillow, curled against the top of his head. "But I just can't resist this."

Lois sighed and got into bed. Her face was promptly and repeatedly smacked with a tail. She tried futilely to defend herself.

Clark reached up and gently repositioned the dog.

The thumping tail was replaced by a wet snout nuzzling her face.

Clark looked at her with his soft brown eyes. "It's my weakness." The dog rolled over, now somehow draped across both their laps, head hanging sideways off the edge of the bed, tongue hanging out contentedly. "It's..."

Lois looked at him and idly rubbed the dog's belly. She wasn't going to win this one tonight. "I know, Clark. It's your Krypto night."



EXCERPT #4:
A firm knock on her apartment door made her jump.

“Coming!” she yelled.

Moving from her bedroom to the living area, she grabbed her towel and dabbed at her forehead again before looking through her peephole.

“Clark?” His giant, grinning head filled the peephole, and she rolled her eyes. Even though she was miffed at him, she couldn’t help but smile as she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

“Hi,” he greeted her, his grin fading into a soft smile. His eyes swept over her body briefly before meeting hers again. “Been working out?”

“Yeah, no big deal…” Lois held the door open for him to enter.

“I bought you something.” He thrust a brown paper bag toward her.

Lois raised her eyebrows. “What?” She took the bag from him, opened it cautiously, and looked inside.

Clark closed the apartment door behind him and cleared his throat. “I felt bad that my joke backfired earlier…and I just wanted to assure you that I do not think you’re… fat.” He cringed at his words, his eyes avoiding hers. “And that even if you were larger…um…bigger…” he trailed off, looking flustered, adjusting his glasses nervously. “…what I mean to say is….”

“Is…?” Lois prompted, one eyebrow raised as she pulled a small carton from the paper bag.

He exhaled. “Is that you’re beautiful and brilliant, and I wouldn’t care if—“

“You bought me frozen yogurt?”



EXCERPT #5:
"I only need to update a prescription for eyeglasses."

Klein sighed with relief. "Oh, is that all! Well that's not very wait a minute..." He frowned. "Sorry, eyeglasses? Did you say eyeglasses?"

The hero nodded and then glanced around the room as though expecting to be overheard.

Klein's eyebrows shot up. "Eyeglasses?"

Superman shushed him while definitely not wearing eyeglasses. "Yes."

Klein studied his face, trying to see the indications of contact lenses.

"I'm not wearing them now," he pointed out, looking amused.

Klein shook his head. "So, what, they're just for reading, then?"

"No." Superman looked over his shoulder again, sighed, and turned back to Dr. Klein. "I first got them when I was a kid, but stopped needing them after I first got my powers. I think the microscopic vision automatically corrects for me, but when I lose my powers, I go back to needing them again. It used to be fine, since I never got rid of them; but after this latest brush with Kryptonite, I started getting the headaches again and--well, I got through the day all right, but I should definitely update before something like that happens again."

Dr. Klein stared at him, stunned. Superman wore glasses? Picturing it was...actually, shockingly easy now that he let his mind imagine it. Something began to niggle at his brain.

"Please don't tell anyone about this."

He waved a hand. "Of course not! Doctor/patient confidentiality and all that stuff."

Superman sighed with relief.

"I'll have to bring in the equipment," Klein mused. "Might take about a week. Also, we'll probably need to dose you with Kryptonite..."

He grimaced but nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Klein." He started for the window.

Klein turned back to his experiments. "Tell Lois I said hello."



EXCERPT #6:
He winced as the door closed in his face.

It was over, and it was his fault.

On the other side, Lois began to sob, falling apart.

He knew, sometimes super-hearing was a curse.

The silent tears were nothing, compared to the heart-wrenching sobs she cried now.

It was his fault. He had to let go.

She needed to protect her broken heart.

But how could he leave, would she shut him out of her life?

Could their friendship survive his mistake? He could only hope.

Tomorrow he'd see her again.

Lane and Kent. The hottest news team in town.



EXCERPT #7:
“Come on, he's just a pup. There will be time for training later.”

Clark knelt beside Krypto, who eagerly licked his hand and turned his head against Clark's legs to obtain his share of fondling. It was rather difficult to remove the leash and hard to tell who enjoyed the cuddling session more, Krypto or Clark.

But as soon as the dog was free, he started for the park.

“He's going to be a grown up dog pretty soon,” Lois warned. “And one that might have superpowers.”

Clark scrambled back to his feet and dusted off his pants. “Powers? You think?”

“He's pretty strong for a pup.”

Clark shrugged. “I didn't notice anything.”

Lois snorted. “Of course you didn't. It’s not like you'd ever have trouble holding him, if he pulls on his leash. Besides, the dog loves you so much, he's walking at your side just to humor you.”

“Still, I don't think we're going to -” Clark broke himself off as Krypto started for a group of pigeons picking crumbs from the ground.

He ran, almost tumbling over his too large paws, tail wagging, ears fluttering in the wind, and barking enthusiastically as the pigeons flapped their wings in panic and flew off.

Clark jogged after his dog. “Down, boy. Stop. We don't chase pig-”

He stopped dead in his tracks, jaw hanging open when the dog's paws left the ground and he kept just chasing after the flying birds.

Lois caught up to Clark. “Yep, taking this dog for a walk is so going to be your duty.”

Clark started fumbling with his tie. “Forget what I said earlier. Training this dog can't start soon enough.”



Good luck, everyone!
________________________________________________


Have a question? Ask it here! Or you can PM any of the K-Com members or reach out on Discord too! You can also send an email to us here: Kcom@kerthawards.com

In order to help you find all things Kerth for this year, we’ve created a TOC for all the 🏆TOC for Kerth Awards 2025 Posts🏆.

The Kerth Committee
(KSaraSara, Michael, lovetvfan, and Evie)

Complete Story and Comments

Ah, March: that first month of Spring, known for rushing in like a lion and going out like a lamb. Why is it called March, anyway?

This month will have a marching theme. Any fic will qualify if it has either:
1. A Military (Whether it's an entire armada or just one retired vet, it still counts)
2. A Marching Band (Sousaphones optional)
3. Someone being ordered to "MARCH!"

We're also going to start in Free-For-All mode this month, which means You Can Tag as Many Fics As You Want.
Just Remember that You Must Leave an FDK Post for Each Fic You Tag. Include a quote proving it qualifies, and come back here to post the links to your FDK so we know you didn't just dream the whole thing.
You Can Tag a fic that someone else has tagged...but doing so will give you less points. If you're the first one to mention it, you get the full point. Next one who tags it only gets half a point. Next is a third of a point and so on. Please don't make me break out a calculator.


Aight, that's it. Happy Hunting!