Clark supersped to the Planet still grinning from his conversation with Oliver. Wouldn't it be great if he could get Lois to feel something for him even if it was just lust, to rub in his face? Sometimes there were better, more satisfying ways of getting even with your enemies than killing them. He texted back. Great. Come to my office upstairs.
She came in, pad in hand. He loved her office suits, tailored jackets, skirt that hit around the knee as business attire should but rose up when she sat on the corner of her desk. He was glad he didn't have to work across from her or he'd never get much work done. It was just a shame all that beauty came with a more often than not irritating personality behind it.
"Your, uh, ball and chain came to see me today," he informed her.
"Oh?" He'd peaked her curiosity.
"He told me in no uncertain terms to stay away from you. Seems he doesn't trust you around me."
She snorted. "More like he doesn't trust you around me."
His eyes traveled lecherously up and down her form. "Maybe he has good reason."
"I didn't come here to get sexually harassed. I came to offer you an interview."
He sighed but smiled as he said, "Have it your way."
She took a seat. "Before we get started, I just want you to know this isn't going to be some little puff piece of propaganda for Ultraman. I want the real story. Who is Ultraman and what can we expect from him in the future?"
"It's always your way or the highway, isn't it? Maybe I should find a reporter who will write what I ask."
The only person he enjoyed stirring up more than Oliver was Lois. The truth was if he'd really wanted her gone, he didn't have to think up a good excuse for firing her. He could have claimed lay-offs and her tendency not to take deadlines seriously even though her stories were always worth the wait would have been more than valid. Threatening Lois with firing was a game more than anything else.
"You don't want just any reporter. You want me."
"In more ways then one, Lane. Proceed."
"Why the change? And don't give me any of your usual bull."
"You are cut-throat, aren't you?"
"Flattery will get you nowhere. Just answer the question, Luthor, or Ultraman if you'd prefer."
He'd known her for a few years now. He'd been taken in by her own brand of bull, the hard-nosed, tenacious reporter, who seemed to be just one of the guys around the newsroom. It was very easy to overlook the fact that she had a soft side. There was a girl in there somewhere and girls loved when a guy displayed some vulnerability. He didn't mind faking some to get her where he wanted her.
"The truth is I grew tired of the way I was living. I haven't lived life like I wanted since, well, I've never lived the way I've wanted. It's always been the way my father wanted and now that he's out of the picture, why not turn over a new leaf?"
"So you credit your father for the way you turned out?"
"Doesn't everyone? Who are we if not a product of our parents' upbringing?"
"Except there are plenty of people who had a crappy childhood who don't add murder to their list of accomplishments. In fact, there are plenty of people with great childhoods who turn to a life of crime."
"You're right, but they aren't the norm, are they? You have no idea what it was like growing up with Lionel Luthor for a father."
"So enlighten me. Enlighten the readers. What is it like?"
"A nightmare. He pitted my adopted brother and I against each other, to compete as his prospective heirs. The things we would do to each to try to win his approval. He once used kryponite to mark me with an "L" as if that show of egoism would be enough to impress a man who drew blood from me regularly in our daily fencing matches. I still bear the scar."
"That's horrible."
"I got even with him. I killed him and finally made Daddy proud," he said sarcastically but truthfully.
She looked physically ill.
"You would have thought he'd have even an ounce of remorse for being the catalyst of events that lead to the demise of his only naturally born son, but it was just another day of business for him. And if it had been Lex who had did away with me first, he would have had no remorse at losing me either."
"Oh, Clark," she said softly.
"The methods he used, Ms. Lane, to bend his children to his will: the physical, mental, and emotional abuse he engaged in would have horrified seasoned CPS workers."
She shed tears for the boy he had been. She was eating out of his hand.
"Can we stop here?" he asked. "I don't think I can or want to answer any more questions right now. Maybe we can pick up again at the old family homestead? It is the heart of it all with its own story to tell."
"Of course. That'd be perfect."
More perfect than she knew. She was playing into his plan perfectly.