The Daily Planet's main floor, like any other day, was flooded; there was little to no room for anyone to squeeze in through the hallway. One can never expect the place to be quiet, except for the evening times, when procrastinators turn in papers danced everywhere as office cubicles were illuminated by a laptop's desktop screen that either focused on a word document, numerous tabs on a browser, or a discreet game of Solitaire. Regardless, the staff was proud of their ambition of being able to print their stories while the New York Times or Washington Post was still fishing for their sources.

In one of those cubicles were two people, which seemed to be the minimum number of people in each cubicle on the entire floor. One was a college-aged photographer, who was looking through his camera, while the brunette thirty-something-year-old woman, danced her fingers around the keyboard while staring intently at her laptop screen; she didn't trust the office's desktop. She had long dark brown hair that reached just right at her shoulders. It was brushed, but not professionally, out of her eyes as if she was in a hurry. She had a very sharp eye level as if she would stare down anyone despite her petite stature.

"Ms. Lane?" Jimmy Olsen called as he aimed his viewfinder at his co-worker who had a deep sharp focus on the word document she was typing, following the cursor. "Ms. Lane?" he said in a sing-song tone.

She did hear him. The woman responded with a smirk, without looking up and extended her middle finger. "There," she said with a feigned smile. "Send that to my dad."

Jimmy knew Lois long enough to catch her sarcasm and when she really meant it or not. He reciprocated her tone, playing along. "I will. I will definitely send that to the general of the United States Army."

"Good," she said. "How many L's in 'parallel'?"

"L-L-E-L," he said, placing his new camera down on his desk. "Ms. Lane—"

Without stopping her typing, she rolled her eyes. "Jimmy, this is your second week here now. Just call me Lois."

"Sorry. Lois. Do you, uh, like, ever use spellcheck?"

She shook her head. "Waste of time."

"It's really not," he said slowly to get some sense into her. "People actually read this stuff."

"Yes," Lois answered quickly. "And I want them to know that someone around here had the ball sack to say something that everyone won't say when they're too busy binging Fox or CNN."

"Right," Jimmy nodded to himself. "Ball sack. Right. That's—that's . . . Yeah, that's you."

"Besides," Lois explained, "Perry's been dying for more cover on the Constitution this afternoon. And now I've been assigned with the F.N.G. coming here today—wherever the hell he is," she mumbled.

Hitting the hotkeys to quickly save her document, Lois hoisted herself from her chair.

"Thought I'd let you know that 'Constitution' has three T's," Jimmy smirked.

"Thank you, Ron Weasley," Lois said sweetly, patting his back as she passed him.

She was thankful that of all people, Jimmy was the only one who understood her sarcasm whether she was serious or being friendly. In her time, being this way was the best way to survive and pull yourself together in a city and a workplace that pulls you in two different directions. She got along with her other co-workers just fine, though, she never sought companionship. You can't be too attached to anyone or your weakness will be exploited, and they'll have your soul.

Lois got herself away from the walled-in offices where chatter rang, and keyboards clacked. She stopped in front of a glass door that had the words "EDITOR IN CHIEF PERRY WHITE" inked on the pane. Without even knocking, she twisted the knob and entered the wide windowed office of a middle-aged man known as Perry White. Perry sat in his chair and had his head buried in a newspaper while having his laptop off to the side on his desk. The room reeked of cigar smoke like always. Those 'coffee breaks' really paid off in the long run.

Perry sighed. He knew the moment he said this, Lois wouldn't take it well at all. "Can't print this."

"What?" Lois said in incredulity.

He lowered the newspaper, exposing his tired face. She may not like what he was about to say, but it had to be said one way or another. "With City Hall breathing down my neck about your 'expose' of the mayor's wife's teen beauty pageant, and our transportation infrastructure, I can't print another one of your conspiracy theories."

Conspiracy theories. Lois swore she almost flinched at the mention of those words. "We're being taxed for young girls learning how to mix eyeshadow before they learn how to read, Perry!" Lois insisted, tightening her brows. "And now, it's becoming every Tuesday, while we're sitting here, learning how to type!"

"Lois," Perry's voice rising, "Look, you're one of the best I got. You're relentless, and I still can't believe you've earned a Pulitzer Prize. No offense intended."

"None taken," she growled.

"But," Perry retorted, "you've got to know when to stop. If you keep snooping around in other places and they find out that what you work for—or worse yet—who you are, they'll have your press pass for lunch and your ass will be in jail."

"So much for the 'American Way'," Lois grumbled.

The door opened behind her.

"Uh, you said you wanted coffee, sir?" Jimmy said as he peeked his head in while notably holding a fully occupied four-cup tray.

Perry gestured Jimmy to enter and he was handed his warm cup "It's not what I wanted," he continued as he focused back on Lois.

"Is that right . . .," Lois growled.

Jimmy tilted his head at Perry.

"No, not you, Olsen," Perry cleared his throat.

"Uh, hello? Mr. White?" came an unfamiliar voice from the doorway.

Perry huffed. Great, he thought to himself. More people in my office. It's not a lounge. He looked up and saw a tall and seemingly built man in a blue suit, wearing glasses and a warm smile.

"Who are you?" Perry asked, trying to not sound irritated more than he already was.

"I'm Clark. Clark Kent," he replied still preserving that stupid smile his mother wouldn't ever let him die on. "We spoke on the phone about a week ago."

It took Perry a while to put the pieces together of why that name sounded familiar. He then grunted in surprise. "Yes! Erm, Clark. Come on in."

As the new worker entered the room, Perry got a better look at his new employee. He already knew what he looked like but reading a file and seeing someone in the flesh were two entirely separate things. It was also surprising to see how towering Clark was over every other current occupant in his office. The guy was an inch or two above six feet.

"Mr. Kent," Perry said, clearing his throat once more, "this is Jimmy Olsen, intern photographer."

"Hey," Jimmy beamed holding out his hand. "I'm, uh, what he said," he chuckled.

Clark returned the favor and shook it gladly but gently. Just like what his dad wanted. "Clark Kent."

"Yeah, what he said too," he chortled. He kept shaking his hand with no ending in sight. Awkwardly, Jimmy stopped himself and tried to put on a more professional expression.

Clark stifled his laughing grin.

"So, you're the new guy, huh?" Jimmy said.

Clark could easily read that awkwardness so well. He grinned and replied, "yeah."

Lois slightly tilted her head. Clark Kent. . . Wasn't that the name of the new guy?

"Awesome," Jimmy said. "You nervous?"

Clark bashfully shrugged. "Well, it's a long way from home." At least that was the truth.

"Yeah, I hear ya, man," Jimmy understood. "Homesick is always the first thing before you get used to it. Well, see you 'round. Gotta get back on the floor. Good to meet you."

"Yeah, you too," Clark said as the young photographer exited beyond the opaque door.

Perry's face and tone became less enthusiastic. "And this is Lois Lane. Lois, Clark Kent."

Lois smirked her best presentable self despite still being pissed about the earlier topic. "Pleasure," she said openly as she held her hand out.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Lane," Clark grinned as he shook her hand.

Lois barely let her eyebrows rise as she felt his fingers. They were tough and firm as if he could crush her hand if he wanted to. In her life, the other hands that met hers were also firm, but this felt different.

She examined him carefully. "Hmm. Let's see—firm grip, bright smile, a fair tan and gentlemanly mannered. Let me guess—southern?"

"Er, Kansas, actually," Clark answered awkwardly, adjusting his glasses. "Smallville."

"Well, then . . .," She studied his height, ". . . Small-ville. You and I are working together."

"Yeah." Clark shined. "I was told about that."

Lois chuckled softly almost as if she'd pitied him. That smile of his . . . This guy's so uppity, it's sad. "Well, this outta be interesting."

She turned to face Perry with a smirk and raised an eyebrow. "Chief, why don't I show Smallville here around? Show him what little contacts we have left before we head out?"

"I'd like that," Clark chimed in from behind her.

Keeping her expression, Lois gestured her head towards Clark.

It was Perry's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You're actually volunteering, Lois?"

"I'm in nice-mode," Lois said simply. "But I blame you for that."

"So does everyone," Perry grumbled as he returned to the newspaper that stayed on his desk. "Show him the ropes, but you two better hurry up. Traffic's going to be slow."

Lois faced Clark. "Come on, Smallville. You're not in Kansas anymore."

The two left Perry's office and Lois led the way back to the busy floor.

"Find your way here, okay?" Lois asked, observing how hectic the room was.

"Not really," Clark answered casually. "It's busy, but you know."

"Sounds like you're used to it. Yeah, if you're used to it now, you should be fine," she said almost in a miserable tone.

Clark had little time to get used to this new place. He had several office jobs, but none other compared to the scale of something much more sophisticated as the Daily Planet. This was far bigger than everything else, yet it still held a similarity to his previous positions. Here, there was never a time where everything got quiet. There was only mindless ambiance of endless chatter between co-workers and the constant clattering of fingers drumming on keyboards.

In addition, the number of differences between ages on the floor was intriguing. He had already met Jimmy Olsen, who looked like he just got out of high school. He read that the Daily Planet was quite selective on who they chose to let in, so a big place like this to accept a man that young was impressively unheard of. All the others ranged from Jimmy to elder ones that either met Perry's or even beyond his.

Lois led Clark around and got him acquainted with some of the office's well know writers in charge of separate topics. There was a man who looked like he was in his late twenties named Steve Lombard, the sports editor, who knew even trivial sports that dated when football started. More brains in that area more than anything else, as Lois put it. At least he knew how to type.

There was also the strangely attractive forty-something-year-old Cat Grant, a columnist, who had so much gossip. When her eyes met Clark, she raised her sharply angular eyebrows.

"Well, Lois," Cat said intrigued. "You didn't tell me the new guy was so handsome."

Clark could practically feel his face heating. Giving an awkward smirk, he replied a simple, "thank you."

"Yeah, well," Lois came to his rescue. Tugging Clark away, she then said quickly and as nicely as her tone would allow, "he's got a lot to learn. Catch you later."

"Catch you later, Kent," Cat called over in a flirtatious manner.

"Don't bother," Lois growled. "She has so much gossip, that's all she ever thrives on. I swear to God she has 'TMZ' tattooed on her ass."

Clark, however, didn't see such evidence. That is, according to his x-ray vision. . .

Once the somewhat awkward introductions were made, Lois grabbed Clark by the hand and tugged him back towards the direction of Perry's office where they started. Lois' grip told him it was urgent. Knowing that she was nowhere as strong as he was, he played along.

"Alright," Lois said uprightly. "Playtime's over."

"So, what now?" he asked curiously.

"There's a story going on, Smallville. And you and I are going are catching it."

Clark blinked. He had been so occupied with everything around him, he completely forgot about being teamed up with her. She led them to a cubicle, where she let go of his hand and proceeded to rummage through her workstation. Clark was stunned to see how cluttered her office space was compared to the other walled-in workstations. There were loose papers scattered with no organization, post-its that were stuck to her desktop monitor, file cabinets that weren't closed all the way, as well as an empty food tray that lied on the side.

He didn't recall ever seeing something like that at any of his working history, not even during college. If they were to ever see something like this, they'd freak and give her a good long lecture of being organized otherwise, she'd face some sort of policy penalty.

Lois engaged her way through her own workspace and lifted several papers that lay scattered, mouthing several curses to herself. "Ugh. Where the hell is it?" she muttered to herself.

"Uh, Lois?" Clark said, leaning towards her before speaking awkwardly. "You know, uh . . . for future reference, they say the key to a clear mind is an organized desk."

"Ah!" Lois exclaimed as he pulled one paper out of one of the many loose sheets. "Sorry. Press pass. Alright, let's go."

Clark nearly lost the words. "Go where?"

Lois was already walking fast enough for Clark to follow closely. The two then made a circle around the workspaces and through a door, away from the large main floor, bringing an end to the chattering.

"In case you haven't heard," Lois said informatively without stopping, "did you ever read about the reinvention of the shuttle plane?"

"Yeah," Clark answered. He really did understand the topic quite well. "How they've been advertising that it would be soon accessible for commercial flights?"

"Very same," Lois confirmed. "They're doing a test drive, and you and I are covering it."

Clark's eyes sparkled. "Us two?"

"We work together, don't we?" she reminded.

"Yeah."

"Good," Lois fake smiled. "Be happy. Most guys don't get to really work on their first day on the job. Welcome to the Daily Planet, Smallville."

Clark could've said something, but anything he had in mind would've been too polite for her taste. Instead, he kept to himself the two proceeded out of the building and headed into the parking lot.

The drive to the Metropolis Airport hadn't been an easy one—at least for Lois. Clark had never seen such road rage come from someone like her since Jonathan back whenever he was driving in a larger area like the city. On their way, there was a series of horn honks and desolate profanity from her while Clark silenced himself in a mix of discomfort and astonishment.

"You want respect, Smallville?" Lois calmed herself as she explained. "Demand it. If not, you won't last five minutes out there. That's the only thing you can do in a town like this."

Clark let abeat pass by before answering. "Right . . . so," he said in feigned friendliness, "where you from? You from around here all your life?"

Lois sighed as if that question was the one thing she was hoping she wouldn't hear. Then again, the guy's just asking. They're working together anyway. They might as well know each other.

"I've been all over," she said humbly. "Originally from Ohio though. Hamilton County. Nice town." Her face loosened into a grimace. "My mom died when I was too young to remember her. Dad was a hardass army guy. Now, he's the General of the U.S. Army."

Clark looked impressed.

Lois saw that. She displayed a weak smile. "Though, not exactly the best of dads. Said he always wanted a son. Guess that makes me the 'son' he never had," she chuckled grimly. "Must've really broke his heart when I told I wanted to go into journalism than hold a rifle standing at a wall."

"I'm sorry," Clark sympathized.

"Don't worry about it," she said with less meaning than her face. "We still keep in touch . . . when we want. I haven't talked to him in about a year now. And when we do, it's usually the same; I report a robbery, he keeps troops overseas. I talk about political illegalities, he pulls the head-of-command-and-do-what-I-want card."

Clark pursed his lips. "Sorry, Ms. Lane."

"Friends call me 'Lois'," she said warmly. "And by friends, just Jimmy back at the ranch."

"So, I'm a friend?" Clark asked in sincere playfulness.

Lois softly chuckled. "Sure." She let out a huffed sigh before her voice turned back to what it was before. "Don't get any ideas."

"I don't," Clark answered with a smiling friendliness.

"No. Really. Already dated men with heads bigger than their dicks. Dated a rich guy in Gotham. Not doing that again."

Clark was once more at a loss of words. It was fascinating and somewhat entertaining by how very dry and to-the-point she was. "I, er, can be a friend then," he managed to say.

"Fair enough," she said. "Don't have much anyway. Probably best."

Clark's heart sank as her words flew through him. "What do you mean?"

"If there was anything I learned about living with the old man back home from childhood 'til now, it's that less friends means less drama. That's just how it works. You know, around here, Smallville, I'm only known for 'most likely being arrested for trespassing' in this city while telling the truth that, well, everything sucks. Aside from that, I don't really have the luxury for companionship. I didn't ask for it but deal with the dealt." She sighed again. "So, do me a favor?"

Clark faced her.

"Don't get too comfortable," she frowned. "The less expectations you have, the less disappointed you'll be."

Clark didn't say anything for what felt like such a lifetime. He remembered Jonathan and Martha telling him that the big city wasn't like home or any other place he had been living in in the past. He believed them right away and thought he was prepared for that. Until the day he arrived in Metropolis, he was never ready to begin with. He saw that Lois was a woman who had irregular principles of independence. Though, this kind of individuality was a direct contrast of what his birth parents would've wanted to maintain the repute of the 'House of El'.

"Sounds like you've had it rough," Clark said sympathetically.

Lois shrugged and made a fake deadpan smirk. "Just a product of my environment, Smallville. Just like you."

"I think I understand, though," Clark said deeply. "You know, when I was a kid, I didn't have many friends. Just people I knew." Clark shifted his focus on the outside world speeding by in moving blur. "My parents wanted me to the best person I could ever be. Be there for other people and try and make a difference, you know. And I know that sounds pretty corny. It's just, I just don't know if that means you have to be alone to make that happen."

Dropping her armor, Lois' tone turned to genuineness. "Do you think working at a newspaper network is making a difference? I'm really asking."

Clark let out a sigh and returned his face back to Lois, then retracted to his upright self. "I think so," he said. "You know, I've been into journalism for a long time. Not just report news but write about other things. Something good, not just incidents. I like to let people know that there is something good to look forward to instead of writing about a . . . bank robbery."

Lois smiled warmly. "Well, if anything great happens in this town—like, actually great, let me know. 'Cause I'm still looking for that one."

Clark smiled. "Will do."

Throughout the rest of the trip, Clark took the opportunity to take another look at the upcoming project that was supposed to be launched today. The Constitution was a Boeing-manufactured craft and was planned for many years upon being an inventive way of faster air travel around the globe. The project didn't meet the requirements over the years of development, but the funds were provided by LexCorp, which was reported to have the full confidence in the project as soon as the provisions were met. Critics claimed that the entire idea would be outrageous if it proved to be yet another failure for revolutionizing commercial flights, but the Department of Transportation has shared their enthusiasm and confidence for both progression and safety.

There were countless tests with the kind of engine that would outfly any commercial flight. With trial and error, they were finally given a greenlight for their first public demonstration. Metropolis International Airport's smaller airfield near the main complex had been given the privilege to host the demonstration as it will fly from there all across the country to Los Angeles Airport.

The demonstration's time was about two hours away from now. Metropolis' relentless traffic didn't cut them that much slack and that only generated more of Lois' curse storms Thirty minutes passed, and the two finally made their way to the property of Metropolis International Airport. So many people had already gathered at the event, some of the traffic had to be redirected, much to Lois' irritation. More amazement for Clark from that. Once they reached the front gates she flashed her press pass at the front gates. Granting her access, the gates opened, and the two proceeded.