In a way, Clark liked the fact that the tour was so full of teenagers, in another way, he felt more awkward than usual; he'd almost never had interactions with people his own age and these teens were obviously from some school or group, since they all seemed to know one another.
He edged towards the back of the group, and ended up next to a petite blonde whe stared at him. He smiled uneasily, wondering if she was playing with his mind or if she...things seemed to lurch when she grinned widely at him. Her grin seemed to sparkle, like a toothpaste ad. He wondered if he was a weirdo or if gums like that were sexy to everybody. He found himself smiling back at her, for real this time.
"Sorry for staring. You just, well, you look almost exactly like somebody I...somebody who lived in my home town."
"Somebody nice, I hope?"
"Uhm, I didn't know him that well." He wondered if he'd said something wrong and breathed a sigh of relief when she grinned again and tilted her head up to look at him. "But you know, except for the hair, you look almost exactly like him."
"Uh." Oh, great going, Clark, just exactly what would impress her.
"I'm Chloe Sullivan. Which paper do you intern with?"
"I don't." Well, he'd managed two syllables. Not all in one word, but, still, two syllables. Which, considering the way she crinkled her eyes at him, was pretty impressive, he thought, defensively. He hoped his voice wouldn't crack if he went on. "I'm just here, you know, to see what it's like."
"Oh. I'm here with the big intern tour. You know, all the NewsCorp papers, they don't pay us lowly intern forms of life, but they do send us on a big tour at the end of the summer. I'm with the Daily Planet, from Metropolis."
She tilted her head again and he realized she was waiting for something. "Oh. Yeah. Clark, uh, Kent." Whew. At least he'd managed his new name. He'd have to start thinking of it as his real name.
"Clark? Now that's weird. The guy I was thinking of was Clark Luthor. You know, Lionel Luthor's son, the one who died in the crash, the one who was kind of a recluse?"
Oh, God. Something must have shown on his face, because she rushed into speech again. "Oh, I guess you've heard of him. So you see why I was noncommital on the 'nice' bit." She opened her eyes in exaggerated alarm as the tour guide, who had been waiting for them to stop talking, cleared his throat very loudly.
"Sorry. Gotta go," Clark whispered. He turned back one time, whispered, "It was great to meet you, Chloe," and was rewarded with another smile, though a bit puzzled.
***
Lionel Luthor hoped that the Daily Planet's editors often asked themselves how he could *know* what stories they were planning even before they thought of taking them to press. They'd been very thorough in investigating their editorial team for possible leaks, but had never thought of asking their lowest-level server administrator. Who, of course, would have lied.
As it was, any email which contained the name "Luthor" was very discreetly copied to a hidden FTP folder, and each night a line of code documented as part of the server backup delivered it to another site, which itself was retrieved by another process, the files eventually reaching Dominic, who went through them and delivered the relevant ones to him.
Dominic had known better than even to ask why the man he still believed to be Lex Luthor told him that anything refering to Clark Luthor, no matter how trivial, was to go to him. So when the email from "csintern@dailyplanet.com," sent to "peteross@svhs.edu," included the words "Clark Luthor," even though the sentence only mentioned the name.
***
"There was one guy on the tour of the Gotham newspapers who would have fit in just fine with the weirdness that is Smallville. He looked just like Clark Luthor, but with brown hair--and CUTE! Well, that's weird enough, but the moment I said so, he looked like I'd started introducing him to my invisible friends or something. The weird, wild, and wacky coincidence? His name was also Clark! (Clark Kent.) If he hadn't practically run away, I'd have asked if he's met any green rocks lately. Anyway, why is it that the cute (and nice)ones are always taken, gay, or weird?"
Lionel Luthor drummed his fingers. He'd wondered for a while if his suspicions about the Colorado mountain were wishful thinking, even though Clark and Lex on the loose were not part of his fond wishes. But now it looked as though there was a reason they hadn't found the bodies--Clark and Lex were still using them.
He called his best researcher. Two hours later, she handed him a file of records.
A bank account in the name Clark Kent. The next account number was for an Alex Kent. One of the regular withdrawals from Alex Kent account was to a property company. For rent for a two bedroom apartment. Not only did Carla provide him with the address, but she had a floor plan, the doorman's name and usual lunch and dinner hours, his family information, profiles of the people in the adjoining apartment, and the name of the building's security company, with a note that she could get copies of security videotapes if he wanted them.
The next morning, he had a file of photographs, stills from the videotapes. Unmistakably Clark, despite dyed hair, and Lex, despite a windbreaker hood around his head.
He put through a substantial bonus for her and sent out further instructions to members of his operations group. They'd make sure that the boys didn't run away before he got there, though he hoped to avoid that. But since he wouldn't be there immediately, he included a repetition of his earlier warning. "Make sure your men know that if either of my sons has any justified complaint of unnecessary force or of any incivility, I will take it most seriously."
He edged towards the back of the group, and ended up next to a petite blonde whe stared at him. He smiled uneasily, wondering if she was playing with his mind or if she...things seemed to lurch when she grinned widely at him. Her grin seemed to sparkle, like a toothpaste ad. He wondered if he was a weirdo or if gums like that were sexy to everybody. He found himself smiling back at her, for real this time.
"Sorry for staring. You just, well, you look almost exactly like somebody I...somebody who lived in my home town."
"Somebody nice, I hope?"
"Uhm, I didn't know him that well." He wondered if he'd said something wrong and breathed a sigh of relief when she grinned again and tilted her head up to look at him. "But you know, except for the hair, you look almost exactly like him."
"Uh." Oh, great going, Clark, just exactly what would impress her.
"I'm Chloe Sullivan. Which paper do you intern with?"
"I don't." Well, he'd managed two syllables. Not all in one word, but, still, two syllables. Which, considering the way she crinkled her eyes at him, was pretty impressive, he thought, defensively. He hoped his voice wouldn't crack if he went on. "I'm just here, you know, to see what it's like."
"Oh. I'm here with the big intern tour. You know, all the NewsCorp papers, they don't pay us lowly intern forms of life, but they do send us on a big tour at the end of the summer. I'm with the Daily Planet, from Metropolis."
She tilted her head again and he realized she was waiting for something. "Oh. Yeah. Clark, uh, Kent." Whew. At least he'd managed his new name. He'd have to start thinking of it as his real name.
"Clark? Now that's weird. The guy I was thinking of was Clark Luthor. You know, Lionel Luthor's son, the one who died in the crash, the one who was kind of a recluse?"
Oh, God. Something must have shown on his face, because she rushed into speech again. "Oh, I guess you've heard of him. So you see why I was noncommital on the 'nice' bit." She opened her eyes in exaggerated alarm as the tour guide, who had been waiting for them to stop talking, cleared his throat very loudly.
"Sorry. Gotta go," Clark whispered. He turned back one time, whispered, "It was great to meet you, Chloe," and was rewarded with another smile, though a bit puzzled.
***
Lionel Luthor hoped that the Daily Planet's editors often asked themselves how he could *know* what stories they were planning even before they thought of taking them to press. They'd been very thorough in investigating their editorial team for possible leaks, but had never thought of asking their lowest-level server administrator. Who, of course, would have lied.
As it was, any email which contained the name "Luthor" was very discreetly copied to a hidden FTP folder, and each night a line of code documented as part of the server backup delivered it to another site, which itself was retrieved by another process, the files eventually reaching Dominic, who went through them and delivered the relevant ones to him.
Dominic had known better than even to ask why the man he still believed to be Lex Luthor told him that anything refering to Clark Luthor, no matter how trivial, was to go to him. So when the email from "csintern@dailyplanet.com," sent to "peteross@svhs.edu," included the words "Clark Luthor," even though the sentence only mentioned the name.
***
"There was one guy on the tour of the Gotham newspapers who would have fit in just fine with the weirdness that is Smallville. He looked just like Clark Luthor, but with brown hair--and CUTE! Well, that's weird enough, but the moment I said so, he looked like I'd started introducing him to my invisible friends or something. The weird, wild, and wacky coincidence? His name was also Clark! (Clark Kent.) If he hadn't practically run away, I'd have asked if he's met any green rocks lately. Anyway, why is it that the cute (and nice)ones are always taken, gay, or weird?"
Lionel Luthor drummed his fingers. He'd wondered for a while if his suspicions about the Colorado mountain were wishful thinking, even though Clark and Lex on the loose were not part of his fond wishes. But now it looked as though there was a reason they hadn't found the bodies--Clark and Lex were still using them.
He called his best researcher. Two hours later, she handed him a file of records.
A bank account in the name Clark Kent. The next account number was for an Alex Kent. One of the regular withdrawals from Alex Kent account was to a property company. For rent for a two bedroom apartment. Not only did Carla provide him with the address, but she had a floor plan, the doorman's name and usual lunch and dinner hours, his family information, profiles of the people in the adjoining apartment, and the name of the building's security company, with a note that she could get copies of security videotapes if he wanted them.
The next morning, he had a file of photographs, stills from the videotapes. Unmistakably Clark, despite dyed hair, and Lex, despite a windbreaker hood around his head.
He put through a substantial bonus for her and sent out further instructions to members of his operations group. They'd make sure that the boys didn't run away before he got there, though he hoped to avoid that. But since he wouldn't be there immediately, he included a repetition of his earlier warning. "Make sure your men know that if either of my sons has any justified complaint of unnecessary force or of any incivility, I will take it most seriously."