Epilogue: The Story of the Century
Dooley's Bar and Grill was a frequent hang-out for reporters from across the city, but ninety percent of Dooley's patrons were from the Planet, because of its proximity to the building. No Metropolis Star reporter, if they valued loyalty to their brand above all else, set foot in Dooley's on a Friday night, when the density of Planet reporters was at its peak.
The second floor dining room and the outdoor patio (closed for the winter) was often referred to as the Newsroom for how many reporters frequented it after work-hours. The flat-screen televisions located around the room were on, tuned to the news which cycled through existing Superman footage over and over.
Friday night (the first of December), after determining that Clark had left his apartment after work approximately dick number of times, Lois had dragged him down the block for chicken wings and local microbrew and time well spent among like-minded individuals.
In this case, it was solely Perry White, mostly because there really wasn't anyone else who'd spend an evening out with Lois. In any case, she had all but bribed him with the complete Superman interview.
Superman had not disappointed her on the flying part. He had taken her on a wild, looping flight through the city for a good twenty minutes before they drifted silently through the night sky for another ten so her heart-rate would go back down (and talked a little more) and then he had deposited on the balcony of her apartment while she giggled uncontrollably and clung to him for another few minutes until the adrenaline rush started to back off enough that she could stand on her own. She had been left with a drunken, orgasmic feeling singing in her veins and a more physical swaying motion as her legs fought to re-accustom themselves to gravity.
Too keyed up to sleep afterwards, she had set about to hammering a rough draft of the interview.
She had spent all of Thursday and most of Friday polishing it to a high shine and with more coffee in her veins than blood, it was with great pride that she had presented the final draft to Perry not two minutes ago in Dooley's Newsroom. They were here because Perry would probably need a drink afterwards.
He read over it in silence. His reactions were worth watching. Lois could tell what parts he had reached by the way his eyes bulged or when he covered his mouth or had to breathe out very suddenly. He was going through the same shock and awe roller coaster she had been on Wednesday night.
At length, the editor-in-chief turned over the last page and shuffled them back together. Then he laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them thoughtfully and looked at both Lois and Clark like they were both responsible for this.
In a manner of speaking, they were responsible. Clark had proof-read the interview at Lois's request and it had amused him greatly to see how she had interpreted his comments. She had indeed left out any mention of a surviving grandparent and had instead emphasized Superman's refugee status as the only known survivor. She had avoided mentioning anything regarding his childhood and played up his comments about how he considered Earth the only home he had left and she had made absolutely certain to outline the fact that he refused to anyone's weapon of war.
Everything was clean and well-presented with little wiggle room for creative interpretations of his words. Even the most inventive would be hard-pressed to squeeze any hint of hostility out of his answers.
It took Perry another moment to find his voice.
"Lois, this is remarkable. This is editorial gold." he said, calm for the moment. "Here we all thought he wasn't even going to be alive, or that we'd be working on just getting a glimpse of him for the next month, but this is a full interview!" His expression was slowly mutating from passive to impressed. "I know two dozen reporters who would give their right lung for something like this! Who in hell did you sell your soul to for this?"
"No demonic bargains or organ donations involved, chief. I told you. He came to me." the dark-haired woman said.
"You must have some hell kind of magnetism, Lane." Perry said, running a hand through his thinning and graying hair. It was hard work to keep breathing steady. He was all too aware of what was on his desk. "NASA's gonna shit itself."
"For a second, I thought I was going to shit myself." Lois admitted. Even two days later, it still felt unbelievable. That she had spoken with, flown with an alien. Practically danced with him. Kind of attracted to him too, if she was being honest.
Perry wiped his hand across his mouth and stared at the final draft like it was some unknown species of poisonous something or other, worthy of both awe and respect and fear.
"Kent, what do you think?" he asked. "Aliens in America. Bonafide aliens in America. What's your opinion on that?"
Clark shrugged. "I don't know, actually." he said. Or at least, he didn't know what to say without admitting to being that alien. "It's unbelievable, I guess. People are going to be talking about it for a long time."
"Exactly!" Perry snapped his fingers, pleased that the newbie was starting to get it. "This isn't just the story of the decade or the century. It's the story of the millennium. It is the story. The holy grail of all news reports. This is what every news outlet dreams of, kids. We're going to run a legit story on an alien. We have an alien living in this city. And he talked to one of my reporters..."
After two days, Lois had managed to somewhat come to grips with the revelation (Clark had to pretend he was still dumb-struck by it), but it was fresh for Perry.
"I don't even know if we should run it." he added in a soft, horrified tone.
"Oh no, I did not spend the last two days glued to my desk chair just for you to turn it away!" Lois snapped. "Not when you have bellowing for that interview for nearly two weeks! Perry, you cannot reject this story. If you have any integrity as an editor of a national newspaper, you will not put it in the reject pile!"
She slapped her hand on the table-top for emphasis, making their glasses jump.
"Lois, let's look at this reasonably for a moment." Perry started in his best reasonable tone. "This interview turns everything on its head. Ev-ver-ry-thing. Everything we thought we knew about life, the universe and everything is going to change. The answer won't be forty-two anymore. Instead, it'll be one of those imaginary numbers that I don't know anything about. This interview says that we are not alone in the universe."
"I'm aware of what this interview is going to do to the nation at large, Perry. But we can't get scared and pull it." Lois asserted. "Superman came to me so I could put his words out there. People have questions about him and this interview answers them."
"These aren't answers that people want to hear." Perry said wisely. He respected the power of words and these words had some serious firepower.
"I didn't know we were in the business of coddling the public." Lois muttered. "Look, Perry, if we sit on this story and word gets out that we've just left it floating in limbo, the backlash is going to worse. The Daily Planet tells the truth, no matter how raw."
Perry heaved a sigh, torn between reluctance and uncertainty and pure news-worthy gold. He would have to be mad to run this story in its entirety, but he would be even more insane not to.
"How soon can you get me the final, final draft?" he asked.
"Should be in your inbox already. You can run it in Sunday's paper." Lois said, taking back the paper copy. "There's some photos too."
Perry's eyes brightened. "You got a photo?"
"Several. Maybe one of them's for the front page." Lois nodded. Superman had agreed to stick around for a moment so she could grab her DSLR camera and snap a few pictures of his good side.
"Sunday's paper, then. It's too big for the week-day edition." Perry decided. "It'll displace the bombing aftermath- Oh, Baker's gonna climb up my butt about that; he's sensitive - but this is a bigger story by far. Aliens, Lois!"
"And by Monday, you won't be the only person saying that." Lois commented, amused.
"Can't wait." Perry said, looking a tad overwhelmed. "I need a drink."
And with that, he left to head up to the bar for something stronger than the house brew.
"What do you think about this, Smallville?" Lois asked, flicking the draft at him. "Not the not-answer you gave Perry, I mean what do you really think about this? Superman's alive, everyone's known that since yesterday and once this interview hits the streets..."
Clark had to shrug again. He had put in an appearance yesterday during the lunch hour, flying low and comparatively slow so that people saw him. The ensuing applause and cheers had been resounding. Some grumbles and muttering, but the positive reaction had overwhelmed the negative. It had reminded him starkly of the old sepia-toned or black and white newsreels from the days of the Justice Society, when all they had to do was walk onto a stage and the crowd went wild.
"I think you were right all along." Clark answered, picking up his beer to take a drink.
Lois blinked. "There was a lot I was right about. Which one?"
"About the superheroes. You told me that you thought Superman's appearances heralded a new age of superheroes." Clark said. He had gotten filled in on her thoughts over the last two days. "The internet's blowing up again. Everyone's saying the same thing you are. They think superheroes are going to come back to the world and that Superman is just the first."
Lois gave a proud kind of nod and tried to sound modest when she spoke. "Well, what can I say? I've got some pretty good instincts. Reporter instincts, Smallville, I got 'em."
"What-- What is he like?" Clark wondered. Call it selfish curiosity, but he really wanted to know. There was plenty he could glean from her reactions but he wanted to hear what she had to say.
Lois uttered a low whistle and an overwhelmed expression passed briefly over her face. "How do I put this... He's-- amazing? I know I've met him before, but I don't think I'll ever be prepared for it. He's larger than life; I've never seen shoulders like that. But it's not just the physicality of him. He has this-- thing."
"A thing?" Clark repeated, trying to figure out what she was trying to describe.
"You know how you meet some people and they're just like-- so inherently good and kind you actually doubt that they're genuine because you don't run into people like that anymore, but then they say or do something that reinforces that and you feel like a rotten person for doubting them? It's like that." Lois said.
"I-- I don't follow, exactly." Clark admitted, brow furrowing in confusion.
"Like disappointing your pastor." Lois tried. "They have these such high hopes for you and then it's the look of their face when you wander in homeless and a junkie with a crack-baby and a raging case of gonorrhea and you can see them struggling to tell you that it's still okay."
Why do you sound like you have past experience? Clark wondered, afraid to actually ask that. He didn't know her history and at this point, he was doubting that he wanted to know.
"Look, Smallville," Lois started, correctly interpreting his raised eyebrow and confused frown. "This-- This man is something else completely. He has this way of talking that makes you feel like you want to be a decent person. Not even the police can make me feel bad for taking advantage of the loose trespassing laws in this city, but I think if this guy told me to stop, I probably would. No guarantees, but I'd probably seriously consider it." she added firmly, to make sure he understood that she wouldn't necessarily stop because someone told her to.
"So... He's charismatic?" Clark guessed.
"'Compelling' is a better word." Lois corrected. "He has a very definite way of speaking. I just hope put that into the interview. He told me some very heavy stuff. Stuff I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams. You read it. You know how crazy it is."
More than you can imagine. And I think I'm going to tell you one day. Clark thought. He still needed time to consider it and he wasn't sure when, but he was certain that one day, Lois would get his full story.
If there was anyone he could trust to tell, it would most likely turn out to be Lois Lane.
The waiter arrived with their dinner orders as Perry returned. It had been cheeseburgers all around and a plate of Dooley's famous Headliner chicken wings. They were notorious for being spicier than the pits of Hell.
"Alright," Lois held up a bottle of the house brew in a toast. "Here's to getting the story of the century."
"Here's to Superman for being the story of the century." Perry said, clinking the glass gently against their bottles. Then he nudged the plate of chicken wings over to Clark. "Go on, rookies first. They're delicious."
Lois looked on with a barely concealed expression of anticipation.
Clark already knew what was up. It seemed there was some manner of hazing process that every new "Planeteer" had the joy of enduring and it consisted of not being told how spicy the Headliner Wings were. Reactions were typically coughing and watery eyes and wheezing demands for something to drink, and it was a big laugh for all the veteran employees.
Clark picked up one of the boneless wings and took a bite. He could taste the spices, but it was more like a mild, pleasant tingling rather than the sensation of his tongue being burned alive. He had forayed briefly into India on his Eurasian tour and had discovered that the spicy cuisine had no lasting effect on his tongue. He could probably eat the hottest pepper in the world and it wouldn't have much effect.
"Not bad." he said, quietly enjoying their horrified expressions as he took another large bite of the atrociously spicy wing. Then, to rub it in, he added: "Could be spicier."
Lois was the first to shake herself out of the stunned stupor.
"Is your mouth coated in mucus or something?" she wondered.
"My tongue is made of steel." Clark quipped. Just to prove it, he stuffed an entire wing into his mouth and chewed away with a contented smile. Not an ounce of discomfort showed on his face, because he wasn't in any discomfort at all.
"Ugh, you disgust me." Perry grumbled. "I can't even eat one of those without needing half a bottle of beer to wash it down! Maybe we should get you into the chili-eating contest this summer." he added thoughtfully.
The rest of the night didn't go very seriously. They were unwinding from a stressful week and slightly buzzed. Gossip about annoying work-mates and uncouth stories were only to be expected and good lord, Perry had so many.
As it neared towards eleven o'clock, they called it a night. Perry had to be in tomorrow if he was going to present the story to the weekend editor and Lois had to run some errands and Clark had a vague plan to fly down to Smallville sometime before Saturday evening. His parents wanted the full story from him. Perry made his way down the street to the nearest train platform while Lois hung around the curb to hail a taxi.
"Hey Smallville," she started, while waiting for one of the yellow vehicles to turn up on the block. "Who do you think was really responsible for the attack? 'Cause honestly, I don't believe it was all Sofia's work."
"I thought you told me your dad was involved?" Clark prompted.
"He was-- Well, he had the idea to clean up Metropolis through a disaster, but Sofia came to him with the exact details." Lois corrected. She shrugged. "I dunno, it just doesn't feel exactly like her style."
"And then there's that devil dog thing." Clark added, more concerned over that than anything else. The Met P.D. could handle something as mundane as Sofia Gigante, but fire-breathing exploding hellhounds were on another level entirely.
Lois went "huh..." in a thoughtful way. She raised her hand and like magic, a taxi pulled up to the curb.
"Keep me posted if you hear anything." she requested, opening the back door. She gestured to the cab. "Sharing this one?"
Clark waved her off. "No, you've got further to go than me. I'll get the next train. See you Monday, Lois."
"Sleep tight, Smallville." Lois grinned, and then got into the cab.
Clark needed the fresh air anyways. His head was buzzing and certainly not from the two beers he'd had. By Sunday, the interview would be out and Superman would be international. When he put on that red cape again, there would be no anonymity to hide behind.
And he had done that to himself on purpose. He was taking away that anonymity because there was something dishonest about lurking in the shadows when he meant to do good. It was easier to do good when people could see you. It kept a body honest.
There was no official statement from the government yet. They would deliberate over things first and there was probably some red tape to machete through in the process, what with the appearance of someone that Metropolis was widely calling a superhero. They probably didn't know how to handle the situation as of yet. Of course their response wouldn't be nearly as immediate.
Clark hoped it wouldn't be a drastically negative one.
But he was about to turn the world on its head and shake up the status quo. In Perry's own words, the answer wasn't forty-two anymore. And people were going to be a little scared, a little twitchy. It certainly wasn't going to be easy to prove to one and all that he meant no harm.
The world wasn't going to be the same after this.
But wasn't that a good thing?
Down there at ground level, everything was all right. No one had gotten permanently hurt. In another few days to weeks, the city's scars would heal over and it would be impossible to tell what had nearly happened. There were still a lot of loose ends dangling. The police were already wading into an investigation on the identity of the terrorists who were presumed to be involved with the attack, but the Met P.D. could be nothing if not tenacious.
The good guys had won the day, at least for now.
But high up at thirteen hundred feet, in his office, Lex Luthor placed Friday's edition of Daily Planet down so the picture of Superman was facing up. He laced his fingers together and pushed his chair around to stare out the window to the Metropolis skyline.
From where he sat, things looked very different. For all that Metropolis appeared to have straight lines, a different angle made you realize that those lines weren't so straight after all.
And he knew it.
Metropolis was his city and it was slowly coming together the way it should, delicately shaped by his hand. It was a fragile process, slow and meticulous. Much attention to detail was required and unknown variables needed to be rooted out before they could become nuisances.
He had known in the back of his mind that Superman was not dead. A man like that simply did not up and die so soon after appearing. The city had gotten its hero back before the end of the week, alive and more than well.
Superman was strong, powerful. He was a variable that could disrupt the plans that Luthor had spent years cultivating. He couldn't yet be predicted. Either he was to be brought to Luthor's side or removed permanently. There couldn't be an in-between.
And across the universe, far away and tucked back into a corner where time was really not a concept, December Mannheim (the very same Mannheim that Sofia had been in contact with) crouched in front of a massive throne in a bow that was truly more of a cower. The heat of the glare on her was literal. The back of her neck blistered under her lord's displeasure and the snakes of her hair whimpered softly.
"So, this planet Earth has a new champion." intoned a voice so deep and powerful her eyes nearly rolled back in her head from the overwhelming presence of it. "Why did you abandon your post instead of bringing him down?"
December cringed, her neck searing. Her eardrums pounded.
"I beg Your forgiveness, my lord, but he has proven that he is not a gnat we can simply swat." she said, all but scraping the ground with her cower. "He is still young and inexperienced, yes, but I do not think I could have so much as injured him, even with all my training. He is not human--"
"FOOL!" her lord boomed and the concussive blast of His voice almost flattened her. "Your beloved Granny did not mold you into the perfect weapon just for you to run at the first sign of difficulty! We did not come this far simply to fail now!"
"Forgive my mistakes, my lord!" December cried, her forehead pressed to the hot stone she kneeled on. "But You needed to know! You needed to know that Earth was not going to fall as easily as we had imagined! Your grand plan, my lord, it will need tweaking-"
"You dare question me!?" her lord roared and His great anger washed over her like a tidal wave, scalding her very skin and searing into the sensitive tissue of her eyes. She bit her lip clean through in an effort not to scream. To scream in front of Him... It would end poorly.
Then, He chuckled.
"Stand up, Cruel December. Do not cower." He ordered. "It does not befit a Fury."
Slowly, December returned to her feet. She stood tall as ordered, but she did not raise her head along with her shoulders. She was not worthy to meet His eyes.
"You have served Me faithfully for many years and I have little reason to doubt your loyalty to me. It was wise of you to return to My side and inform Me of these new developments. The grand plan will require a small amount of revision." He admitted. "You will return to Earth and your husband. You will continue to be My eyes and ears. Guide the plan to My wishes. This is how you will redeem yourself for your foolish errors."
December bowed deeply, gratefully. Her master was rarely a forgiving one and she would be groveling at His feet for centuries to repay Him for this small act of mercy.
"Thank you, my lord Darkseid."
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