A/N
DISCLAIMER: I STILL DON'T OWN THESE CHARACTERS, CONCEPTS, ETC. NO MATTER HOW MUCH I WISH I DID. IF I DID LOIS AND CLARK WOULD BE TOGETHER IN THE COMICS *SOBS*
I'm going on a fanfiction updating spree, I suppose. I'll admit, Lois is not very happy with Clark in this chapter, but don't worry, she'll get over it.
ENJOY!
CHAPTER SIX - THE BIG STORY
Much to the chagrin of her coworkers, Lois's office is probably the second best in the building - after Perry's, of course. The window behind her desk provides a stunning view of the entire city, with the harbor clear in view. Oftentimes, when Lois would work late, she would be greeted with a sunset like no other, during which the sun would descend behind the Metropolis skyscrapers and seemingly be swallowed by the ocean.
However, her eyes are now completely diverted from the window. Instead, they are entirely focused on her laptop, where she is researching a very...interesting and untraditional topic for a new story.
Of course, she has not forgotten her main goal, which is to lock Lex Luthor behind bars and throw away the key. But when there's a story this big...this unbelievable...well, she can't let someone else have all the glory. Especially when that someone is a sneaky, two-faced, little farmboy from the middle of no-
Lois takes a deep breath and continues typing rigorously, thus letting her anger dissipate. She won't give him the satisfaction of seeing her mad...or more mad than he's already seen her, that is. In fact, with all the fits she's been throwing lately, she'll bet that she's making pageant girls look mellow to a lot of her coworkers. So this time, she'll do what she usually does: work harder and do better than those around her, not tantrum.
Including stupid Clark Kent.
Clark Kent...the man she grossly underestimated when it came to journalism. Who upstaged her during what was supposed to be her great return to the Daily Planet. Some rookie he turned out to be, she thinks bitterly, when he pulled the rug out from under her like a pro.
After the Lexcorp fiasco, Lois was breathless and exhilarated, left in complete and utter awe in the wake of her encounter with the flying man. She should have ran faster to a cab, or paid the taxi driver quadruple the price for quadruple the speed. That's what any half-brained reporter would do, with a story this big. After all, this flying guy was practically a real-life Hercules.
Instead, she had to give a freaking statement to the police. Stupid decision, really. She probably could have saved the information for a story, but then she'd probably get into another lawsuit for withholding information from an investigation. After all, this was practically a terrorist attack, and she felt morally obligated to do something.
After discussing the flying man with an officer for a few minutes, the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Police Captain Maggie Sawyer - a tall, commanding woman with close cut blonde hair - who tapped the officer on the shoulder.
"There are some pedestrians over there that need questioning. Go attend to them," Maggie ordered, and the officer left without protest.
"Lane," Sawyer greeted stoically, as she usually did. They had met several times before, from whenever Lois covered the crime beat. "People say that this...flying man saved you personally. Is that right?"
"Yes."
"Do you know him?"
"Never seen him before, as far as I know, and he didn't tell me anything. All I know is that he's hot, helpful, and able to fly," Lois droned, her disinterest evident. "Can I go now?"
Maggie paused. "Were you outside the whole time?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Smoke break."
"Since when do you smoke?"
Lois shifted her shoulder uncomfortably, the motion subconscious. Maggie's eyes were then attracted to Lois's wound. She must have remembered what had happened to her, and immediately backed off from the question, a humiliating sort of pity in her eyes. Maggie was a police officer after all. She has probably been through her fair share of trauma, and left Lois to whatever coping mechanisms that best suited her.
"My turn," Lois said after clearing her throat. "What happened here?"
Maggie sighed, but returned the favor of giving information. "Someone stole a whole cache of weapons from the Lexcorp shipping lanes, then set off explosives. The destruction was a diversion to secure their escape. Smart and horrible plan, to be honest. When there's that much devastation, no one's gonna pay attention to a suspicious looking car."
"...Lexcorp shipping lanes, huh?" Lois echoed. She suddenly remembered the truck that the dog had been barking at, and the man that had winked at her. His platinum hair and abundant piercings.
Maggie raised an eyebrow. "Yeah...you didn't see anything, did you? And don't hold out on me, Lois. That never works out for either of us.
In a matter of minutes, Lois had given her description to a sketch artist, who managed to create a pretty accurate rendition of the man she had seen. In truth, the police statement hadn't taken that long. But it ended up being a catastrophic amount of time for the story she had planned.
When Lois finally meandered back to the Planet and burst into Perry's office, she was greeted with the same sight she saw earlier that day - Perry, at his desk, and Clark, in a chair.
Regardless, Lois stumbled forward a bit frantically. "Chief, man-oh-man, do I have a story for you!" she practically beamed, waving her arms with excitement. "And not like the typical 'Mayor Berkowitz was caught with a prostitute' type of story. I'm talking about the kind of stuff that you'd normally find on page 25 of the Inquisitor, it's so outlandish. Except this...this is real. I just saw...was just saved...by a man who can fly."
When she finished, she wasn't quite sure what she was expecting. Maybe a "Great Caesar's Ghost!" from Perry, or an inquiry about whether she was feeling alright, considering that her tale sounded like something from the Twilight Zone.
Instead, Perry and Clark looked totally unimpressed. Clark just pulled a bit on his collar and cleared his throat, discomfort somehow evident on his normally inscrutable face. Perry rolled his eyes rather obviously. At the time, she thought they just didn't believe her.
"Perry, would I ever lie?" she sputtered. "If I was any closer to the angel of truth, I'd be that fairy from Pinocchio."
Perry pinched the bridge of his nose and delivered the figurative kick in the gut. "Lois, Kent beat you to the story. It's already online."
Incredulous, Lois's eyes snapped toward Clark, who seemed to sink into his chair a bit. "S-sorry, Lois," he apologized tremulously (or pretended to, as Lois assumed, since the guy clearly had no reservations). "I didn't know you wanted it."
She proceeded to argue with Perry for over an hour, trying to get him to budge to no avail - to let her write the story or at least share it. After all - she had met the flying man first hand. Had even talked to him. She had experienced every single second of that story, yet somehow, Clark Kent had perfectly accurate details on it? It just wasn't possible.
"Corroborated eyewitness accounts," Clark explained to her. "If you say 'allegedly' enough, they're a perfectly acceptable form of information."
How he managed to interview so many people so quickly, Lois may never know. But her only real contribution to the story ended up being, of all things, a photo credit. Somehow, the image on her phone ended up being remarkably clear. Perry was practically ecstatic to get photographic evidence, swearing that the Associated Press would be seething with jealousy.
They weren't the only ones, Lois thought bitterly. She too was seething internally; her fist ready to cut across Clark Kent's farm-boy face. Maybe tear his ugly hat into shreds. But then she realized that the latter action may actually improve the quality of that ugly hat, so she refrained.
Clark, meanwhile, showed his true colors by refusing to add the picture to his article.
"Chief, d-don't you think this guy would seem more mysterious without it? I mean-"
Perry waved him off, of course. "And by more mysterious, you mean more like Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster? Kid, people need proof, and this provides it marvelously."
"Yeah, Kent," Lois retorted, her hands placed firmly at her hips to prevent them from strangling Clark. "You can't have all the glory."
Shortly thereafter, Perry quite literally shoved them out of his office, laughing heartily. "I knew it was a good idea - keeping the two of you. Keep this up, and you'll be the next Woodward and Bernstein."
Perry's door closed with a slam, as did any possibility of Lois ever being partners with a worm like Clark Kent.
Presently, Lois is trying to top Clark's completely boring article, which, despite its meticulous grammar and written aesthetic, lacks the sort of a glamour that a real story requires. Kent can write like a poet, she'll give him that - but unfortunately, he's a reporter, and he needs to write like one.
A copy of his article sits beside her computer, and upon glancing at it, she can't help lamenting the lack of drama. Honestly, where's the suspense? Where's the lionization of the flying man's actions? Where's the sexiness?
"DISASTER AT LEXCORP TOWERS," it reads blandly, almost as if she can hear Clark's disinterest. "MYSTERY MAN SAVES THE DAY."
Mystery man? Lois scoffs internally. He's not just any mystery man - he's a man who can fly, for God's sake. But apparently Kent didn't find that revolutionary enough to include in his headline, for some unfathomable reason. After all, it's not like they have these kind of guys flying around Kansas, right? So would it have killed him to write with a little enthusiasm? God knows Lois would have...if she had been given the effing chance.
It doesn't matter now, she supposes. Her recent research will practically slingshot Clark's story into obscurity, even if his broke the news of the flying man's existence.
Even now, as she searches for more, an overstuffed folder of evidence sits on the other side of her computer, across from Clark's article.
Suddenly, there is a knock at her door. Lois's head snaps up, her eyes narrowing, evidently getting ready to scream at the intruder that has come to pester her.
Jimmy stands there, already prepared to run. He knows better than anyone that Lois hates to be interrupted.
"What?" she demands.
"Perry's holding a meeting."
"So?"
"He wants you to be there."
"Well, we all want things we can't get, don't we?" she retorts with unsuppressed bitterness. A pointed swig from an oversized coffee mug is added for dramatic effect.
Jimmy ventures further into her office, pulling nervously on his bow tie. "You're not still mad at Clark, are you? The guy's really nice. If he knew you wanted the story so badly, he probably would have given it to you."
Lois sighs, switching her attention back to her computer screen. Her index finger bores into the enter button, which signals the nearby copier to start printing out her recent work.
"I don't want to be given a story, Jimmy."
"So what's the problem?"
She stands and marches to the copier, where she checks the papers. They seem to be in order. Meanwhile, Jimmy stands waiting for her, expectant of an answer.
Of course, he has a point. In truth, why is she so angry? Is it really Clark's fault that he won the byline? It's ridiculous for her to react in any negative way at all - hypocritical, even. She would have done the same thing in his position, and quite plainly would have ordered her coworkers to suck it. And Lois...Lois always liked to think of herself as the kind of person who can dish it out and take it - not that anyone else could dish anything out at her speed or level of efficiency.
Nonetheless, she is utterly angry. That she is sure of. Angry at what, she tries to identify.
Angry at Lex, for sure. Angry at the men in Qurac. Angry at her father for always belittling her. Angry at Perry for hiring someone to replace her. Angry at herself, for making more mistakes than she can ever hope to fix.
Because at the root of all her problems is one, irremovable factor - herself. There's no denying it - every mishap she has experienced could have somehow been avoided if she had just acted differently.
Jimmy is still waiting, but Lois will not give her answer. It sounds cliche and self-pitying, and she knows that everyone already thinks she is a ticking time bomb. There's no need to substantiate their criticisms.
Luckily, she is rescued by a roar from outside her office.
"LANE!" Perry booms. "I'LL GIVE YOU TEN SECONDS TO GET IN THIS CONFERENCE ROOM OR I SWEAR-!"
Grabbing her research as she sprints out of the room, Lois calls back: "Coming chief! Jeez, don't have a coronary. If you do, I'd probably be made editor, and then where would we be?"
Though reporters differ in physical traits, there are identifiable...similarities between them. Each one has a bold sort of energy, a loudness in his or her voice, a tendency to ask questions that are probing or embarrassing, a crudeness of language, an affinity for a cup of joe, and an extreme hatred of computers given their tendency to misplace information.
And despite its large size, the Daily Planet's entire staff of such reporters manages to crowd into the conference room.
With so many people of such vibrant personality squished together, it's only natural that the room becomes practically deafening with the sound of human voices. There is an overwhelming aroma of coffee beans that also becomes apparent, along with the scents of sweat and tobacco.
Meetings like this are rare, of course, given how unbearable the room becomes after a few minutes. The only time they are held is when a huge story breaks - one that could involve every facet of the news company. And if there's anything that fits that description, it's the flying man. Lois is sure of it.
The Planet's antiquated projector whirs to life, making sounds that are more than indicative of a pending breakdown or perhaps even a fire. Despite its struggles, it somehow manages to project an image onto a yellowing screen. There is clearly some discoloration, but Lois recognizes the picture instantly - the flying man.
She was right, as usual.
"Alright people!" Perry barks, his voice somehow more than audible over the din. "Cut the chatter!"
The room falls silent.
"Forgot you people could even shut your mouths, given the yapping I hear all day," he growls before continuing. "So, you've probably heard by now, given Kent's article and the news from...I don't know...everywhere-"
"Who's 'Kent'?" Cat Grant - the society columnist - asks, seeming genuinely confused and unfamiliar with the name. She twirls her blonde hair absentmindedly, her lipstick-stained lips slightly parted to further evidence her bafflement.
Oh god, Lois thinks, how oblivious can you get?
Clark, who stands across the conference table from Lois, raises a tentative hand and clears his throat. In response, Cat's eyes glance him over, apparently unable to place him.
"Is he new?" she whispers not-so-quietly to Ron Troupe, who stands beside her. To Lois's surprise, Ron shrugs and admits that he's never seen him before. Even worse, other people also subtly voice their failure to recognize him. Are her coworkers really that unobservant, or Clark so utterly uninteresting that they've erased his existence from their minds?
Perry rubs his temple, sighing audibly. "Great Caesar's Ghost, people! You're supposed to be journalists, but you haven't noticed that Kent's been working here for months?"
"It's okay chief," Clark says softly, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "I tend to fade into the background. It's fine."
"For the record, I noticed!" Jimmy calls out, pointing to Clark and giving him a look that declares I got your back.
"NOBODY CARES, OLSEN," Perry screams, proceeding to violently point to the picture on the projector. "Long story short - there was a big disaster at Lexcorp, and somehow, this man quite literally flew in and saved the day."
There is some not-so-quiet murmuring among the staff before one reporter questions, "What do you mean 'fly'? Like with a helicopter? Or a jetpack?"
Perry's hand smacks the screen again. "Does it look like he's using a helicopter to you? I'm talkin' about flying as in floating. Above the ground. With no suspension at all."
"But that's not possible."
"No frickin' duh! Why do you think we're all here? I haven't even gotten to the part where he held up half of the Lexcorp Tower with his bare hands!"
For once, the room falls silence of its own accord, without Perry's insistence. Each reporter strains their neck to get a good look at the photographic evidence. Within this space there is an implicit, collective realization that something like this could be big. Perhaps beyond big. Perhaps the biggest story of the century.
Ron Troupe scratches his chin as he scrutinizes the picture. "Is he legit?" he inquires. "Did anyone get up close to check if he's a fraud? That he doesn't have any equipment helping him do this?"
Lois speaks up. "Oh, he's legit all right. I was almost trapped under the collapsing overhang, but he saved me just in time. This photo is from yours truly, just before it happened."
"No wires? Anything to indicate a connection to Lexcorp? Maybe it was a publicity stunt," Ron continues, his arms crossing.
The latter was certainly a despicable thought to Lois, though there was some logic behind it. It would have been a spectacular way to reveal some sort of Lexcorp, military-intended super-suit, by having it piloted by a gorgeous man who is all too eager to help. And for some reason, the idea of the flying man being in Luther's pocket makes her sick beyond belief. It's a good thing she knows it to be untrue, given her research.
"I'm pretty sure this...man...whatever abilities he may possess, is...for a lack of a better word… a real-life superhero," Lois asserts, pulling out a folder from under her arm. She opens it and begins to read.
"Two months ago, a subway's brakes began to fail while it was traveling at breakneck speeds. For the people on board, it seemed like a crash was imminent. Imminent, that is, until the train skidded to a safe stop. The conductors were later recorded babbling about a man who had suddenly appeared and pushed against the train until it slowed. Reporters chalked it up to a stress-induced hallucination, yet there were some suspicious looking dents on the front of the train.
"One week later, a little girl played too close to an open window and fell head first from an apartment ten stories up. A few seconds later she was back in her apartment, claiming to be saved by a blue angel with red wings.
"The next week, a truck driver fell asleep at the wheel, and his eighteen-wheeler nearly spiraled into an orphanage. A few witnesses swore they saw that same angel swoop in and push the truck back onto the road. There are, of course, about ten more accounts of different incidents, but I think you get the point," Lois finishes, closing the folder with a flourish.
When she looks up, she sees that her coworkers are speechless as they try to absorb the information. Meanwhile, Clark is leaning forward, his interest - or perhaps jealousy - almost palpable as his inscrutable eyes bore into her face. Her thorough research has clearly discomforted him quite a bit, probably because it displays her superiority as a reporter.
"How...how did you find all that?" Clark stammers, his voice incredulous. It is a tone that demonstrates intense amazement but nervousness at the same time. Perhaps he is worried about the looming competition between him and Lois (a competition that Lois will ultimately win). But for some reason...she suspects that he is nervous for some other reason. One that she can't place.
"It's called investigative journalism," Lois says nonchalantly. "You all should try it sometime."
"Lois, I could kiss you!" Perry beams. "That's great stuff! If we can prove that this guy's been around for a while, even without our realization, it makes the story even more believable."
Troupe continues speculating. "Seems like this guy likes to stay hidden, despite his apparent altruism. So why show himself now?"
"Mr. Troupe's got a point," Clark interjects quickly, his voice a bit louder than usual. Maybe because of that nervousness. "He probably didn't mean to show himself. Maybe we should back off, leave him to this 'unknown good-samaritan' thing. That way the mystery stays, and the story is a continuing source of interest."
Perry shakes his head forcefully. "What? And risk USA Today discovering his secrets before we do? Over my dead body. Here's what we're gonna do: Lane publishes the stuff on his past deeds, which gives this guy more credibility. Then we find out his name, his address, the cologne he likes, gay or straight, boxers or briefs - everything we can find. Everyone loves a hero - especially ones larger than life. And this guy is most definitely larger than life. He'll sell papers. I can feel it."
Clark refuses to accept Perry's orders. "But what about the explosions at Lexcorp? We still don't know who caused them. If we want those criminals caught-"
"Don't worry, Kent," Lois interrupts. "I saw one of the guys and gave a description the police. They'll have the investigation under control."
"You saw them?"
Perry slams his fist on a nearby table. "Who the hell cares? We'll report when they actually find something. Right now, we need information on this S-clad-"
"Superman," Lois finishes for him with a shrug, finding the name fitting of a such a super-powered, good looking man - especially one with the letter s displayed so hugely on his chest.
There is a brief pause among the staff, during which the entire group considers the name.
"Su-per-man," Perry repeats, testing the name on his lips. "'Superman saves the day.' Heh. I like it, Lane! Use that in your article!"
"Got it chief."
"Well, what are the rest of you waiting for? Get to work!" Perry yells, pointing to the nearby cubicles and offices outside of the room.
TO BE CONTINUED...
