Tournament

DJ Dubois

May 2015

Rating: PG

Notes Part 1: Takes place late in Season 2

Notes Part 2: The characters from Smallville belong to DC and the CW. All other characters are mine and fictitious. Please send comments to dante0220 .

Chapter 1 [Early April, 2003]

With Winter's retreat from the prairie, signs of warmth and life returned to the land. Birds chirped from their branches while weaving nests. Growing grasses billowed in the breeze. Farmers sowed their crops. People shook out their doldrums and were out and about.

The annual cycle kicked into high gear or so it seemed….

[Talon]

Going hand in hand with the Sunday drivers and celebrations of warmth, the Talon's traffic quadrupled beyond its usual business. Customers filled every table discussing and occasionally gossiping about neighbors and friends. Some lingered waiting for an opening. Still more stood in the growing line snaking across the tile and toward the heavy glass door in the front while waiting for their caffeinated nectar and good will from the wait staff.

In contrast, Lana Lang observed the drinks pouring out of the Italian coffee press. While her customers talked or stewed impatiently for immediate service, her fingers worked the equipment much as a church organist coaxed sweet divine rhythms from that instrument. She pumped each control in turn. Her hands changed cups. When needed, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles and syrup, extra milk and cream formed puffed isles in their caffeinated bays of bliss within commerce's maelstrom.

At her side, her chief lieutenant, Miranda, typed furiously across the register's keys. As Lana set a drink beside her, she rang it up and sent the respective customer on their way with a smile and a thank you. She'd scribble an order and set it on the counter quickly beside her boss before taking another order for yet another customer.

For a full hour, the line pressed on. Feet clicked across the tiles. Sales rang through the register. Then, as quickly as it had blew up, the tempest dissipated back out to the tables and the asphalt beyond from where it had come.

"Wow." Lana exhaled deeply in relief. She flexed her arms to ease the tension in those muscles. "It's been a while since we've had a line like that." She considered her friend. "You need a break?"

"I'm good. I'm just going to change out the coffee on the bar," Miranda assured her. She walked out toward the wooden island with the coffee pots and burners there. She grabbed a couple of pots and retraced her steps. "These are really old."

Lana winced. "Guess we haven't had time."

"I think people will understand today, Lana. Give yourself a break," Miranda instructed while starting two pots of fresh coffee. "We're kicking butt all things considered." She noticed a tall African-American man in a dark suit coming through the door. "Hey. Isn't that your principal?"

Lana frowned knowing how Mr. Reynolds could be. She understood that he cared for the students at Smallville High in his own way. Still she didn't care for his intensity or the lectures for that matter. She well understood why Clark shied away from that part of the school. Remember this isn't school, Lana. He's another customer just like the others! She straightened herself, put on her best smile and started two more pots of fresh java brewing as his shoes' squeaks across the hard surface underneath.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lang. This is quite the operation," Reynolds complimented. His eyes surveyed the whole facility. "Nice turnout. Such entrepreneurial spirit is to be celebrated in its own right."

"Thank you, Mr. Reynolds," the co-owner expressed in surprise. "I do appreciate it. I know Lex would too."

The older man squirmed at the mention of the Bald One's name. "Yes. Even Mr. Luthor has his moments, I suppose," he conceded. "I'd like a cappuccino and a cranberry muffin. I'd also like five minutes of your time. It's important."

Getting a nod from Miranda, Lana scribbled the order onto her pad. "I'll be right there. It will be $5.50, Mr. Reynolds. Would you like the muffin warmed or with anything?"

"I'd like it warmed with butter if you would," Reynolds requested. He handed Lana a ten dollar bill. "Keep the change. You both deserve it. See you in a few minutes." He headed for a newly-vacated table in the corner.

"From what I've heard about him, that's really tame," Miranda surmised in surprise.

"Tell me about it. Usually he's all fire and brimstone." Lana cut a cranberry muffin in half and set it in the microwave for thirty seconds. She went to work on the cappuccino finishing it within a couple of minutes' time. "I wonder what he wants though?" She removed the muffin from the microwave and smeared a touch of butter on each piece.

"Guess you'll have to find out. Fortune favors the brave," Miranda gibed with a mischievous smirk before going to the next order.

"Spoilsport," Lana retorted albeit half-humorously.

"That's me," her sidekick fired back.

Lana chuckled to herself. Leave it to Miri to make me feel better! She set the cup and plate on a tray and brought it out to the principal. She set the tray on the table. "Here you go, Mr. Reynolds. I remembered you talking about once about everything in moderation. I put a touch of butter on the muffin. If you need more, I can get it." She set the cappuccino on the table as well.

He sampled the muffin allowing his taste buds to imbibe of the delicate cranberry and hints of orange and carrot cake therein. "And I say you have followed the merit of that, Miss Lang. Please sit. I'd like you to hear what I have to say."

She gulped. "And that is? I'm sorry, Mr. Reynolds, if I have done anything…."

"What makes you think you've done anything to apologize for, Miss Lang? As I said, I admire your operation and the quality of the fare here. You could use a few more staff members if Lex Luthor could spare some funds to hire them before you and the other young lady up at the counter run yourselves into the ground. No you're doing well in this regard," Reynolds assured her. He brought out a folder and set it on the table. "I need you to run something for me."

"And that is?" she queried nervously anticipating a job on the scale of one of Hercules' labors from him.

"I'd appreciate it if you could organize a special fundraiser for our honor society. The school's treasury is running dangerously low this year. There are a great many things the group does for your classmates. Perhaps if a large influx were to come in from an event of singular quality, things might perk up a bit?" he proposed.

"It could." She knew he was right. She recalled how Chloe had crusaded for state funding along the lines that he was referring to. "I know Chloe would give us the publicity in the Torch. Perhaps the Ledger would help too." She scratched her head while trying to coax an idea from her already-taxed brain. "I'm not stalling. Sorry I can't…."

"A well-crafted plan and proposal is not the product of a moment's inspiration. Patience and persistence. I would like to hear back from you in the next few days. Would that be amenable?" Reynolds assured her.

"Yes, sir," she accepted while standing. "Can I get you anything else?"

"This will be fine. Thank you. Oh. I did have one more favor to ask in this regard. I'd like it if you could involve Clark Kent in this endeavor. I know you both are friends. Perhaps he can work with you and help his extracurricular record as well? Either way, one of his finest moments last year was his assisting you with the blood drive. Perhaps you can work some magic on him again?" he supposed.

She suppressed a squirm that he could see right through her poker face. At the mention of her Plaid Knight's name, her heart skipped a beat. She felt warm for seemingly strange reasons. Her anxiety seemed to dissipate on Amor's warm breeze. "I'll try. Thank you, Mr. Reynolds."

"Don't disappoint me, Miss Lang. You've made a quite an opening salvo here," he complimented. "I'll let you get back to your other customers. Have a good day."

"You too, Mr. Reynolds. Thank you," Lana expressed. She took the tray and headed back to the counter. While things were quieter, she would let a plan percolate and brew with time….

…a plan made richer with a certain plaid-wearing best friend….

…and that you could count on….