Chapter 3
Wednesday, July 1, 2020
"Clark?" George Taylor called from the door to his office. Clark looked up from his desk. "Come in here, I need to see you for a minute."
It was early and Clark always arrived early before the monthly office meeting that Taylor conducted with his staff. His monthly office meetings were held in addition to the daily work assignment meeting and dealt with topics not specific to stories assigned or in development. He discussed office matters, and it helped keep everyone on the same page when it came to expectations and norms in the office.
Clark hopped up from his desk and strode into the editor's office. "Yes, Sir?"
"Clark, I wanted to tell you something ahead of our meeting. Have a seat." Clark sat and so did Taylor. "I'll be announcing this in our meeting but because you've never been through this, I wanted you to know what we're discussing ahead of time."
"Yes, Sir," Clark replied.
"That piece you wrote that went viral, Ode to 2020; well, I submitted it for a 2019 Metropolis Journalism Guild award in the excellence in journalism category. These awards are given out to Metropolis-based journalists in print and broadcast outlets each year. Outlets submit their nominees in the various categories and the Guild narrows the nominations to the top three. Their jury panel selects the winners in each category, and they are announced at an annual ceremony in September. We all refer to the awards as 'Emjays', so if you hear your colleagues talking about Emjays, you'll know what they're talking about."
Clark sat up, surprised. "Well, thank you, Sir. I don't know if I deserve an award for it, nor did I even expect one. I honestly don't even know what the award is."
George Taylor smiled. "Well, I think it did, Clark, but the jury chose three other candidates nominated in the excellence in journalism category."
Clark frowned. "But I wasn't even at the Daily Star when I wrote that. How can I be eligible if I wasn't a Metropolis-based journalist at the time?"
"There is a nomination period for all the outlets to nominate their employees for work done the previous year. The nomination period is January 1 through March 31 every year. You were a Daily Star journalist during the nomination period so I could nominate you for your work, even though you weren't a Metropolis-based journalist when you wrote it. Your piece was published on New Year's Eve, so it qualified as a 2019 entry.
"That rule was put in place several years ago so that people like you that come into a new organization from outside Metropolis can still be recognized for their work." Taylor shrugged a bit. "I don't think I've ever seen the Guild select someone in that situation for an award but it's the honor of knowing the jury chose that person's work as one of the top three in their category." He paused. "It's another way for the outlet to recognize their employees."
"Besides the recognition for the journalist, each outlet unofficially competes against its competitors for the number of nominations and wins its staff receives. Now, the Daily Planet is much larger than all the other outlets like ours and it always has the highest number of nominations. But it doesn't always win bragging rights for the number of journalist awards won. Wins against Daily Planet nominees really earn the smaller outlets bragging rights.
"Each year, there's a big ceremony where the Guild sponsors a dinner and hands out the awards. It's a big to-do here in the Metropolis news scene."
Clark smiled and nodded. "Yes, Sir." It was mildly interesting, and Clark assumed he would be assigned to cover the awards ceremony.
"Now, even though you weren't selected for consideration in the excellence category, the Guild nominated you in the journalist of the year category. Outlets can't nominate journalist of the year nominees. The Guild selects those based on all the nominations across the spectrum of journalism. So, you see, it's quite an honor to even be considered for the journalist of the year award. It's the grand prize of all the awards! So, I wanted you to know the significance of your nomination in that category before I announce it to the staff. They will really be excited and congratulate you for that." He chuckled. "You're our centurion in this competition!" He stood, reached across his desk, and shook Clark's hand.
Clark was at a loss for words and felt a bit embarrassed. "Well, Sir, when and where is the awards ceremony held?" he managed after a moment.
Taylor looked at the nomination notification. "On the 4th of September, a little over a month from now. It's held at the Metropolis Convention Center." He looked up at Clark. "There will be a table that my wife and I will be at, along with you and three other members of our staff that were included the nominations in other categories."
"And I assume this is a formal function?" Clark said.
"Yup!" the old man said. "This will be about as formal as anything that happens in Metropolis." He paused for a moment. "You are expected to bring a guest. I don't mean to pry but I know your kind of private and you're new in Metropolis. Do you have someone to bring?"
He thought for a moment and smiled. "Yes, Sir, I believe I do."
Wednesday, July 8, 2020
Lois Lane sat at her desk trying to work on a story that had Perry assigned her, but she secretly fumed on the inside at the thought of sharing a nomination with Clark Kent. It had been a week since she learned about the nomination, and it still was gnawing at her. "He's a…a…tadpole!" she muttered. "How the hell do they put him in the same category as me?"
Steve Lombard knew Lois was seething and could not resist the chance to needle her over it. He strolled through the bullpen on the way to his office. "Careful Lois! I read you're going up against Clark Kent for the Journalist of the Year Emjay," called out as he approached her desk. "You know, I covered him extensively when he was playing for the Bulldogs, and I wouldn't bet against him. He's a winner, Lois."
"Oh, then you're in good company, Steve," she shot back without looking up from her monitor. "Because everyone around here says you're a real winner." She looked up and cocked her head with a sarcastic smile.
Cat Grant was standing in the doorway to her office. Although she appreciated the needling, she could not help busting out laughing at Lois's response. Steve failed to realize that the best time to needle Lois about something was when she was not fuming about it or fixated on some perceived slight. When she was worked up over something, she responded to needling like a cornered animal.
Steve shot Cat a glance and smiled sheepishly. She just shook her head and watched Steve continue moving through the bullpen and into his office. Lois heard his door close and looked up at Cat, still giggling at her doorway. "Well, Steve's here. That means there has to be an intern pool somewhere that's missing a troll."
She snapped off her monitor and shoved printed notes into a valise along with a digital recorder and zipped it up. She stood. "Olsen!" she shouted and waited a moment. "Olsen!" she called again. "Where the hell is that boy?" she asked no one in particular.
The sound of scurrying feet could be heard approaching the bullpen. "I'm here, Miss Lane!"
"Are you ready? We're burning daylight, Jimmy, and we've got a lot of people to interview." She grabbed her valise and purse and headed for the Daily Planet garage. "This hoax isn't going to uncover itself."
"Coming!" he called and snatched his camera from his cubicle and hurried to catch up with Lois.
Jimmy was infatuated with Lois even though she would be eight years his senior in a month. Like most, he was initially drawn to her beauty and high energy. In person, she was larger than life. But Lois's physical beauty was often dismissed because of her quick wit, sharp tongue, no-nonsense, all-work and no-play reputation. Those traits were like armor, concealing the kind, caring, soft-hearted and natural beauty that Lois Lane was. And for the most part, Lois liked it that way.
Spending hours with her day and night and hanging on to her every word, Jimmy Olsen was able to see first-hand how sweet and vulnerable Lois could be. She took the time to talk with the young apprentice, not at him or down to him. And while others perceived her to be bossing the poor kid around, Jimmy craved her attention and took her carping as her means of banter. And with it, she shared her experience and lessons others would not bother to teach him. Lois was showing him the ropes in the news business; she was teaching him how to be responsive and demanding of himself. And after having him at her side during all those long days of interviewing people and boring nights hoping for a glimpse of the mystery character, she felt safe opening up to him. The hours of small talk led Jimmy to understand Lois better than anyone else in the newsroom and how growing up in a demanding home had molded the person she had become.
They had interviewed at least twelve people who claimed to have been helped or saved by the unseen entity. Roaming the streets for a few hours at night and then interviewing people during the day wore reporters out. "I have one stop for the story Perry assigned me and that will just take a couple minutes. Then we're off to interview a few more people who I consider 'hoax purveyors' but we should probably listen to."
They reached the car and climbed in. Lois fired up the engine and pulled out of her space and headed for the exit. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm fine, Miss Lane. The only thing is that I can't go out tonight with you if that's okay. I started taking online classes at Met U for two hours beginning at 7:45 AM on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It makes it tough staying out the night before and then being alert for a 7:45 class."
"It's fine if you need to rest up. Something will break for us, Jimmy, and we can put this thing to bed. We just have to be patient and stay alert."
The rest of the day, Lois interviewed some people at Metropolis General, trying to get a better read on what happened to John Corben and the citizen who alerted them to his presence. All she learned had been reported previously. The only new piece of information was somewhat irrelevant. The passing citizen who alerted them to his presence was a tall white male in his early 20's with dark hair. Nothing more was known since he did not remain at the scene or provide his name to the emergency room receptionist.
The next day, Lois met Maggie Sawyer for lunch after missing their meeting the last two weeks. "How was your vacation?" Lois asked.
"Too short, as always," Maggie replied. "Cruises just never get old for me. I enjoy the sea air and I eat like it's my last meal every day! My girlfriend and I probably put on ten pounds over the eleven-day cruise."
Lois smiled. "Sorry about last week. I was really upset about something at work the day before and I got pissed off and was in a crappy mood for a few days."
"Meh! Been there myself. What happened?" Maggie took a swig of coffee.
Lois made a face. "The annual Emjay award nominations were announced, and I was really annoyed by the nominations the Guild made."
"Why? Was John Corben one of them?"
"No, thankfully. If he was, I would have lost it completely and moved to another city."
Maggie chuffed. "Sounds like you lost it anyway."
"It's that guy, Clark Kent. He and I are nominated for Journalist of the Year. Can you imagine that? This guy hasn't even been a reporter for six months and he's already being nominated for that award!" Lois gulped a mouthful of coffee and set the cup down.
"It's funny you should mention him because I was going to," Maggie replied. Lois frowned and cocked her head quizzically. "He was mugged one night a couple weeks back by two scumbags down near Clinton Street where he lives. One of the scumbags came up behind him and hit him in the head with a three-foot metal pipe; it's like getting hit in the head with a baseball bat, just not as fat."
"Oh shit!" Lois exclaimed. "No kidding? Was he hurt?"
"Not really," Maggie replied. "He went down but that's not the whole story. The lady he was with was attacked too and one guy was dragging her into the alley and his partner went flying past them and slammed into a dumpster about twenty-five feet away."
"What?"
"Yeah. And the guy who had his lady friend lets go of her and is pulled away so fast she didn't see where he went but he was found unconscious, sitting on the sidewalk where Kent was laying outside og the alley. But the craziest part of the story is the guy that hit Kent had the pipe wrapped around him and I mean tightly wrapped!" She waited for questions, but Lois was stunned just trying to visualize what Maggie had said. "You want to find out about this mystery entity, you need to talk to Clark Kent or his lady friend."
"Do you know her name off-hand?"
"Yes. Her name is Lana Lang. She's a producer, or director or something at WGBS-TV. She's really very…uh," Maggie hesitated to say what she was thinking.
"I know!" Lois said, understanding the pause. "We met and had lunch about three years ago when I was looking for Kent," Lois recalled. "A Miss Teen America type," she mused and felt a strange reaction in her gut.
"Exactly," Maggie replied.
"So, she was with him when it happened?" Maggie nodded. "I guess I'll get in touch with her. She's a nice gal and a reputable source if the story wasn't embellished by the patrolmen. I'm surprised it wasn't reported on by someone."
"The department is trying to keep these type stories under wraps. Ever since the thing with Corben, people are chattering and a story like this is throwing gasoline on the fire. The scumbags are in the county lockup, but this is the first incident where this mysterious entity intervened in a crime that we're aware of. It was an aggravated assault, and probable rape if there wasn't an intervention if I'm being entirely honest. We don't need a Batman in Metropolis and creating that perception is what the department is trying to avoid."
"And this wasn't Gangbuster, right?"
"Nope," Maggie replied. "I suggest you talk to Lana Lang. It may change your mind about this being a hoax." She paused. "I'm serious, Lois. Something is out there. I don't know what it is, and no one has seen or heard it but something's there. Whatever it is it's fast enough that nothing catches it on traffic or security cams. It's strong enough to throw grown men forty-five feet down an alley and wrap a three-foot metal pipe around some scumbag so tightly that it had to be cut away to free the guy's arms.
"This isn't the wind or some weather-related phenomenon. It's a sentient entity that possesses superhuman strength and speed. It's a ghost," she said and lowered her voice, leaning forward, "or an alien."
Out of respect for her friend, Lois stifled a laugh. "Okay, I'll get in touch with Lana Lang. Thanks for the lead, Lieutenant."
"If you find something else that you think might be helpful to me, please let me know, Lois. This is making everyone nervous and the brass in the head shed a little bit crazy."
Jimmy joined her at the Daily Planet building after lunch. "How'd your class go?"
"Good, Miss Lane. Thanks for asking."
"No problem, Jimmy. Now, we've got a hot lead that I think you're going to enjoy. I just got off the phone with someone who is extremely credible and you're going to want to hear her story. So, get your camera and let's go."
On the drive to meet the lady, Jimmy noticed Lois seemed to have a heightened level of nervous energy that he rarely saw in her. It was excitement tinged by a little anxiety and pure adrenaline, he surmised. He did not understand why this interview had Lois so jacked up, but he was fascinated by it and anxious to find out. "Where are we heading to, Miss Lane?" Jimmy asked.
"WGBS-TV," she replied. "We're going to meet up with someone there that I know from a long time ago and talk to her about something she was involved with. She may be able to shed some light on our mystery character."
They entered the lobby of the large nine story building. It was far from the tallest building in Metropolis, but it had a large footprint. "Lois Lane to see Lana Lang," she told the security guard at the reception desk at the WGBS-TV office and studio. He looked at a directory and punched in a code. A woman's voice was audible and the guard repeated Lois's name and then he hung up.
"Third floor, suite 6. Elevators are to my right." He handed Lois and Jimmy a 'guest' sticker with the date on it. "Please wear these. You can throw them away when you exit the building. Have a nice day."
"This is a nice building," Jimmy said in the elevator. "Lots of marble, brass, and glass," he noted.
"Don't get too impressed, Olsen. These are our competitors," she warned. "I'd hate to think your loyalty was lured by nice décor." They stepped off the elevator and into a hallway that was equally nice. "Well," Lois added, "maybe my loyalty could be in danger seeing this." She looked at Jimmy and winked.
"Miss Lang will be with you in a moment. Please have a seat," the receptionist named Cheryl said.
Lois seemed fidgety to Jimmy, zipping open her valise, arranging papers in it, and then zipping it back up. She clearly had something on her mind, and it was more than just the mysterious happenings in Metropolis. How Miss Lang had a connection with the mystery, and he thought Lois might have a question that she was anxious to have an answer to.
As he watched Lois out of the corner of his eye, a strikingly beautiful and sweet looking woman walked into the lobby. Lois was a natural beauty, and this woman was even more striking.
"Lois! What a pleasure to see you after all these years," Lana said with a sweet smile. She extended her hand and Lois rose to receive it.
"Lana," she began, "it's been too long! You look great."
"And so do you," Lana replied. "You look incredible."
"Lana, this is Jimmy Olsen," she said as Jimmy rose to his feet. "He's an intern with the Daily Planet and he's going to be joining us if that's okay with you?"
She looked at Jimmy and smiled. "Of course, it is. Hello, Jimmy. I'm Lana," she said, extending her hand. "It's nice to meet you."
Jimmy fumbled his response and Lana ignored it. "Let's go to my office where we can talk. Follow me," she said, and they followed her down a short hallway and then turned into her office. It was fairly large with a couch and coffee table and two easy chairs in a sitting area opposite her desk. "So, how have you been, Lois?"
The two made small talk for a few minutes and Lana made sure to include Jimmy in the conversation, putting him more at ease.
"So," she said, "to what do I owe this long overdue visit?" Lana asked.
"Well, Perry White has assigned me to cover the story that is developing in Metropolis regarding these strange occurrences and interventions."
"You must mean The Angel of Mercy story," Lana interjected.
"You could say that, I guess. Is that what they're calling it online now?" Lois asked and Lana nodded. She took her digital recorder out of her valise and held it up. "You're okay with this, right? It's just for accuracy, Lana."
"I'm fine," she replied. "I figured as much. I'd prefer not to be quoted though and if it's possible, I'd rather remain anonymous to the readers. I'm not sure how Global Communications would feel about me giving quotes to the Daily Planet," and then added, "being competitors in the news business after all."
"No problem," Lois reassured her. "This is only background stuff anyway. Our story right now is about people saying unbelievable things without having any explanations. It doesn't really make for a good story yet." She switched on the recorder, put it on the coffee table, and then pulled the pen from the valise to make notes. "I understand from my sources at the Metropolis PD that you had a bizarre event that my source thought fell into this category and that I might want to talk to you about. Can you tell me what happened?"
Lana recounted the story with as much detail as she could muster. Lois would stop her at intervals to clarify her remarks to ensure that her comments were not unintended embellishments or hyperbole. Jimmy could not believe his ears and Lois was equally amazed by the story. Periodically, Lois would scribble some notes in the valise and when Lana finished a thought, Lois asked her to clarify certain aspects about it.
"So, you were with a friend," Lois confirmed. "Would he be able to verify this story?"
Lana smiled. "I imagine you know who the friend is, Lois. I'm sure your source at Metropolis PD told you, right?"
"You were with Clark Kent, right?" Lois asked. "And you probably know he's working for the Daily Star," she added matter-of-factly.
"Ah, yes. That's why you came to me for the story, isn't it?" Lana posed. "Daily Star is your competitor, too, but more closely than television news. I imagine you figured you wouldn't get too much from Clark. Right?"
Lois winked and pointed at Lana. "Exactly," she replied, relieved that Lana provided her a perfect explanation for why she did not speak with Clark. "It's a dog-eat-dog business, you know," Lois said.
"Well, Clark was unconscious for most of it so what he could tell you was second-hand information. He heard me tell the story to the police."
"So, for the record, and to make sure I heard you correctly, you're saying that in the middle of perhaps the most explosive story in history, rookie Daily Star reporter Clark Kent was sleeping on the job?" Lois asked and Lana laughed.
"I guess you could say that," she said through her giggles.
"Thanks, I just wanted that on record," she said smirking. "As I said, dog-eat-dog and you never know when something like that will come in handy," she added with a wink. Lois leaned forward and clicked off the digital recorder. "That's about all we need I think." She paused and then asked, "So, I was just wondering, how is Clark?" and Lana gave Lois an odd look. Shit! "I mean, is he okay after getting knocked out with a pipe?"
"Oh," Lana replied, feeling a little off balance from the tonal change in the line of questioning. "I guess he's fine. You know, his response to the police officer asking if he was okay was to say he just needed 'to walk it off'. A typical football player answer, right?"
Lois grinned. "Yeah, so typical. So, I'm sure you're glad he's in town, huh?" she asked, trying to sound innocent in her tone. Careful Lois.
"I am. It's nice to have a childhood friend nearby that you have a history with," she said, trying to downplay the nature of their relationship in case it never progressed further than it already had.
"Boy, I know how that feels. I knew no one here when I arrived and although I love Metropolis now, it can be a pretty impersonal place for a newcomer." She smiled. "So, who looked who up? Did Clark come find you or you find him?" Why are you doing this Lane?
Lana reacted to the question with a slight frown and then smiled. "It was accidental, really. A few months ago, I saw him in line at the food truck lot near Centennial Park. I couldn't believe it. Seeing him just brought back so many memories."
I wonder which memories they were. Probably not the same way Clark remembers. "I'll bet it did. You two were an item for quite a while if I recall correctly."
"For a couple of years officially, a couple more if you count the unofficial relationship, I guess you'd say."
"Well, do you see him very often?" One question too many, Lois. Better think fast. "You know, reporters! We're always on the go and we never seem to have time for much else." Ugh! Not good.
Lana smiled coolly and stared at Lois. "I'm pretty busy all hours of the day too. In fact, I think if there's nothing else, I need to get back to it." She stood and the others did too. "Jimmy, it was nice meeting you," Lana said, shaking his hand. She turned to Lois, looked at her differently than before, and shook her hand. "Lois, always a pleasure." She extended her arm to direct them out of the office.
She saw through me. "Likewise, Lana. Thank you for taking the time to talk to us. I really appreciate it," Lois said and ushered Jimmy through the office door.
"I'll see you again, Lois," Lana called out, standing at the doorway to her office.
Lois turned and looked back. "You bet. Goodbye," she replied and left the suite.
"She was nice," Jimmy said when they got back into the elevator.
"Uh-huh," Lois responded.
"But it ended kind of abruptly." He paused and then asked, "Was it me or did it get a little weird at the end?"
Damnit! "Wasn't you, Jimmy. It got weird."
Friday, August 28, 2020
The end of the day was approaching, and Jimmy appeared at Lois's desk. "Remember, I won't be able to go out tonight or this weekend, Miss Lane," he said. "I have finals on Monday that I have to be ready for."
They had interviewed nearly thirty people who reported being 'saved' by the Angel of Mercy. In more recent cases, the entity had intervened in a crime to protect the victims or bystanders. In some instances, similar to the incident with Lana and Clark, the perpetrators had been restrained by some extraordinary means that pointed to an entity with phenomenal strength and speed. The online chatter had increased significantly, and the phantom was renamed to The Avenging Angel or The Avenging Angel of Mercy, to recognize the being's involvement in getting justice for the victims of crime.
For weeks since her interview with Lana, the frequency of incidents credited to the involvement of the mysterious being was growing. But more and more, Lois and Jimmy were finding logical explanations for reported supernatural interventions, strengthening her belief that these purported acts were actually staged hoaxes, or a sort of mass hallucination driven by the power of suggestion.
Adding to what she discovered was the information she learned during her weekly lunch meetings with Maggie Sawyer. The Metropolis PD had a large number of debunked reports. The police found that many of the reports were either fabricated hoaxes for the purpose of deterring crime or victim-staged events to attract attention to the victims themselves. Bloggers hoping to increase web traffic to their blogs were notorious for concocting stories.
Maggie convinced Lois that there were some incidents that were not fabricated or staged and that she had no answer for how they happened. But, between those that she found logical explanations for, and the ones Maggie had told her the police had debunked, Lois remained skeptical that there was a supernatural force or superhuman being involved.
"No problem, Jimmy," Lois replied. "In fact, I'm taking the weekend off too, so you aren't missing a thing. I've been working on the outline for the story and it's pointing to the theory that this Avenging Angel of Mercy character doesn't actually exist. We both can use a break so good luck on your quiz on Monday. I have a date with a Hair Bands of the 80's tribute show."
Jimmy perked up. "I didn't hear about that. Where is it at, the Convention Center?"
"Nope. That place is for the real deal. This is just a bunch of tribute bands playing songs and it's on the edge of town at an old Met U football stadium the county is mowing down this winter. The tickets were really cheap, parking is free, beer is cheap, but the music and light show should be great and for a weekend break from all this nonsense, I thought 'why not'. It starts at 6 PM and finishes at 10 PM. Six tribute bands, four glorious hours of classic rock power ballads, beer, and carnival food; it sounds like heaven to me."
Jimmy grinned. "Are you going with anyone, Miss Lane?"
"Nope. Just me, myself, and I, Jimmy. The three of us are going to have a good time but it won't be that fun because one of us has to be the designated driver." She smiled and winked.
The show was just as Lois expected, with six bands playing cover songs from at least twelve hair bands and was all worth twice the price of admission to Lois. She had brought a stadium cushion thankfully because the stadium had old wooden bleacher seating that was beginning to weather to the point of splintering and the concrete and metal structure rusting and crumbling. This thing needs to be bulldozed, Lois thought.
The stadium was built in the early 50's before there were luxury boxes or upper decks. It was a horseshoe-shaped stadium with the stage set up at about the 50-yard line.
She sat directly in front of the stage but at the very top row of the stadium, putting her about fifty-five feet above the ground. Atop the stadium, she could see and hear everything perfectly. And with her backpack cooler full of cold drinks and snacks, the only downside of her seat was having to walk halfway down the stadium to the ladies bathroom every so often. But she used the trips to grab some better food to eat than the snacks she had packed and one or two cups of beer.
The later bands had the advantage of pyrotechnic displays that actually looked good against the darkening sky. And as the event drew to it conclusion, the stage filled with various band members playing a long medley of power ballads together, bringing the raucous crowd to their feet, cheering, whistling, and singing. A barrage of fireworks lit the sky high above the stadium to the cheers of the crowd, signaling the concert finale was under way.
Before it ended, a second cluster of fireworks malfunctioned, sending several rockets that were supposed to explode overhead to instead fire outward toward the seating. The first three rockets of the volley flew just high enough to miss those standing on the grass. One of the three impacted against the wall at the foot of the bleachers area. No one was struck but the rocket burst, showering the lower third of the attendees with burning magnesium, sulfur, charcoal, and carbon.
The second and third rockets skipped over the wall and impacted among a cluster of horrified concert goers about halfway up the stadium seating area.
People panicked, screamed, and raced up the bleachers to flee the impending explosion. When it did explode, it showered the crowd with burning particles in a large circular pattern.
Screams of fear and pain erupted. The crowd climbed up, racing higher, and shoving those not moving fast enough.
Before the fireworks operator could reach the mortars, the next volley fired. A single rocket sped toward the seating area about ten feet below the spot where Lois had been sitting. She was on her feet now and pressed against the rusted metal pipe that formed the railing at the top of the stadium. She watched in horror as the rocket streamed toward her.
Just before the rocket reached the bleachers, it turned straight up and increased its speed. It exploded overhead, sending burning particles down toward the crowd but the particles burned out before reaching them. The frightened crowd continued to push up toward the top of the bleachers, as the third rocket of the volley fired. It headed even higher than the previous rocket but, like the previous rocket, turned sharply upward and climbed high into the air before bursting.
By now, so many had fled the lower portion of the seat area that Lois was being pressed against the top rail of the bleachers by panicked attendees. She watched the rocket explode overhead and for an instant, thought she saw a figure silhouetted by the brilliant flash of the exploding pyrotechnic. The explosion, although at a safe height, caused an already panicked crowd to push more, not sure if another rocket would be headed their way.
The music had stopped, and the crowd was still screaming when a loud creak could be heard at the top of the bleachers. The pressure from the panicked crowd was crushing the people at the top of the stadium against the top safety railing of the stadium. Three top rail balusters gave way and broke free from their crumbling concrete anchors. The top rail broke completely free of the baluster Lois was pressed against, causing three people to Lois's left to begin windmilling their arms and grabbing people in front of them to maintain their balance on the top bleacher. That caused more people to fall backwards and reach out sideways and grab people next to them as they were pulled backward.
Braced against the anchored baluster, Lois reached out and grabbed the hand of one person on the verge of falling backward and pulled, planting her feet firmly on the weathered wood plank seat. Her adrenaline resulted in the person being flung forward to safety. But as the person she grabbed flew forward, the crowd surged backward, and Lois pivoted from the baluster to the opening where the top rail had broken free. She grabbed the baluster that was still anchored as one foot slipped off the back of the stadium. Her shifting weight caused the baluster to bend outward and she struggled to keep herself from falling. She screamed for help and reached higher up the baluster, but her hand found the rusted, jagged piece of top rail that had broken free, and she instinctively released her grip. When she did that, her other foot slipped from the edge and the baluster gave way. With that, Lois lost her grip and screamed as she fell backward toward the concrete apron below.
What occurred next seemed to happen in slow motion.
Falling backwards, she knew she would not survive and closed her eyes, bracing for the impact, but it never came. What she did feel felt like two hands grabbing her around the waist from behind and gently slowing her descent and turning her just enough for her to land on her feet. The instant that she gained her balance, she turned around to see her savior, but no one was there. When she finally looked up at the bleachers above, the top rail and baluster were back into place.
She was shaking and her legs felt like water. She sat down on the apron as tears ran down her cheeks. In that moment, Lois knew the stories people had told her about remarkable saves were true. There was something out there and she was determined to find what it was.
Tuesday, September 1, 2020
Clark thought about what happened over the weekend. Seeing Lois, he felt the connection again, and he regretted not making contact with her. He presumed that he would be seeing Lois on Friday night and wondered what he should expect and how he should respond.
On the one hand, he was anxious to see her. In that moment, touching her felt special. It was their fate that he had already taken to the skies when he heard the screams from the stadium. Had he been twenty seconds later, Lois Lane would have been dead or at the very least, severely brain damaged and crippled for life.
Yet on the other hand, he was dreading that she might use the awards event to confront him about why he had never responded to her letter, where he had disappeared to when she wanted answers, and why. He had been in Metropolis since February, and she never once reached out to him. He concluded that she was not interested in connecting with him, leaving only an adversarial competitive relationship. He did not want an adversarial relationship with Lois, but working at competing newspapers, he suspected that it may end up being that way.
His phone rang and Lana's name appeared on the screen. "Hey Lana," Clark answered.
"Hi. I was wondering if you had Thursday night off?" she asked. "I wanted to get your opinion on what I should wear to the Awards ceremony. I have a few ideas, but I would like to make sure they are what you'd want me to wear as your plus one."
Clark winced. He had met Lana a few times since the mugging, but only for coffee or lunch. He wanted to keep her at arm's length. He did not want her asking him too many questions about it or wondering why he seemed to have no injuries after being hit in the head with a pipe. In all of those meet ups, she had thankfully only talked briefly about the incident and asked no questions of him. She did, however, ask him about his thoughts on the Avenging Angel of Mercy that people kept talking about. Lana said that people at her work were really interested in getting to the bottom of what was really happening. She said her office personnel were split in their opinion as to whether all the stories were true or a hoax.
Clark had told her that his sources at the Metropolis PD had mentioned they had found people who staged events for attention and had debunked some that were hoaxes. They also said that while a few of the incidents were hard to explain, there was no evidence of some otherworldly force at work.
The last time they met was over lunch and when they met, Lana was surprised when she saw Clark.
"Clark, you look so different," she told him. "When did you start wearing glasses?"
Clark wore thick black framed glasses with large lenses that altered the shape and size of his eyes. By doing so, they also changed the shape of his face. It was a suggestion that his mom had made when he discussed his concerns of being caught on camera and recognized when doing his nighttime activities. She said that if Clark was not going to wear a mask when doing his super duties, maybe it would be easier to alter Clark Kent's appearance. She suggested subtle changes that did not require some wholesale makeover that would be difficult to remove or apply when he needed to.
"Just recently," Clark replied. "Ever since getting hit in the head, my eyesight has gotten worse. I don't know if it's the long hours looking at a monitor or the blow to the head or both, but I need them to see clearly now."
She frowned a bit. "Really?" She stared at him, moving her head back and forth. "The lenses look powerful. Do they have to be that large? They alter some of your best features." Then she giggled. "Maybe you should come to my office, and I could take you to the makeup department. The people there might have some other ideas for you."
Clark said that he was getting used to the glasses and once his eyes finally stopped changing, he would think about taking her up on the offer. As they ate lunch, Lana told him that Lois Lane had come by to interview her about the incident, having learned from her MPD sources of it. She watched Clark closely as she told the story to gauge his reaction to it.
"When we were done," Lana said, "she started asking about you and me."
Clark frowned. "What about you and me? What did she want to know?"
"Oh, she was snooping, I think. She wanted to know how we reconnected and how long we were back together and how often we saw one another." She paused. "I cut it short because it started to feel personal.
"Listen," Lana said, "I met Lois back in late 2017 and I was a mess at the time. I had just moved and had begun working for Galaxy and I had just gotten away from Brad. I didn't know anybody, and I certainly wasn't going to talk about Brad to my parents. I still felt a lot of guilt about the way our relationship ended, and I told her things about it that I probably should not have. I just needed to unload everything to someone, and she seemed to be a good listener.
"But that didn't make us BFFs and when she was asking questions, they began to sound like what BFFs talk about at sleepovers. Her questions went beyond just friendly conversation, you know?" He noticed that Lana was blushing when she told the story.
"So why do you think she was asking those questions?" Clark asked, interested in her take.
Lana giggled. "Clark, I love you and you're probably the smartest guy I know about a lot of things except for women. You can't still be that naïve, can you?"
He shrugged. "What do you mean? I spent less time talking to Lois Lane than you spent talking to her. Other than knowing that she's an aggressive, pushy, and incredibly competitive reporter that apparently gets great stories assigned to her, I know nothing more about her."
"I don't mean her professional attributes; I mean Lois Lane as a woman. The questions that Lois Lane asked me implied that she has an interest in Clark Kent that goes beyond learning what your professional attributes or foibles are."
Clark frowned. "Like what?"
Lana giggled again. "You're adorable but you're maddening at the same time."
"What?" he pleaded.
"She's interested in you personally, Clark. She's fishing around to find out about you and me. She wants to know is our relationship just a 'friend zone' thing or more than that." She quit smiling and grew silent for a moment, and then serious. "What I think she wanted to know about us, Clark, is kind of the same thing I want to know," she said softly, almost ashamed to pose the question. "Are we really reconnecting with something more to come later on, or did we already have our chance?"
Clark sat silent for a while and nodded while looking at his coffee. When he looked up, he could see Lana staring at him with watery eyes. "I will never stop thinking of you as my first love, Lana. I forgave you years ago and you'll always have a safe place in my heart. And I also know that is not really an answer. But that's because I can't give you an answer right now. Not the one you want to hear but also not the one you don't want to hear."
He reached across the table and took her hands. "This is the truth, Lana, you will always be part of my life. And I would like to get back to where we were at some point. I'm hoping that you will be content with that while I figure out the rest, and that's the best answer I can give you."
"Clark, are you there?" Lana asked.
"Yes, I'm here. I think I can come over for just a little while. I have a few things to finish up before Friday morning so I'm clear for the award ceremony and we can just enjoy it."
"That sounds fine. Give me a time and I'll have a pizza waiting."
Clark said he would be there by 6:00 PM but could only spare about 90 minutes. As promised, Clark showed at six and Lana had a pizza waiting for them. She showed him the four dresses she was considering, two were cocktail dresses and two were evening gowns. He suggested the evening gowns were probably too formal for guests and surmised that only nominees would be in gowns.
Lana slipped into her bedroom and put each cocktail dress and evening gown on and modeled it for him before he made his selections. She looked gorgeous and in Clark's view, none of them was the wrong choice. However, he chose one of each and told Lana that he would consult with his editor for guidance and let her know which style he thought was most appropriate for the event.
He made plans to pick her up before thanking her for the pizza and saying that he had to go. She smiled and thanked him for coming and they hugged. She kissed Clark on the cheek and said she would see him Friday.
As Clark flew high above Metropolis that night and listened for calls for help or screams of fear, he thought about Lana. She looked breathtaking and if a measure of a woman was only her looks, Lana would be in the pantheon of female beauty. And beyond beauty, she had grace, a gentle sophistication, and a deep conscience. She was inherently a good person who had made a horrible mistake as a young lady, and it had changed the way Clark saw her at the time. Her physical attributes were intoxicating but as alluring as they were, he could not sense the same spark with Lana that he had felt with Lois Lane.
He tried to convince himself that it was concern for Lana's trustworthiness that kept him from moving forward with her when the truth was that he still needed to resolve what the special connection with Lois meant. Until he knew for certain, he did not want to commit to Lana if it meant he might end up breaking her heart.
Friday, September 4, 2020
He had intended to pick Lana up in his truck. It was five years old but had very few miles considering its age and it still looked nearly new. But instead, she spoke with the station manager and was able to tap the VIP limousine contract and rented an SUV limo for the evening at a rate that nearly equaled what Clark would have paid for the parking and valet fee had he driven.
She wore a sleeveless halter top evening gown at George Taylor's suggestion that was a deep red with an open back dramatically cut to her waist and a silk shawl matching the color of her dress that wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, and her makeup was sublime, both done by the professional makeup staff at the station; work that Lana paid for out of her own pocket. On her wrist she wore a small corsage with white and red roses that Clark had given her.
Clark wore a classic rented black tuxedo with satin lapels, a vest, and a deep red bowtie and pocket square that nearly matched Lana's dress. Together, the two looked like a Hollywood power couple as they emerged from the limousine or would have had it not been for Clark's glasses.
A red carpet had been rolled out and down the stairs to the sidewalk below the entrance level to the Convention Center. There were staff photographers on the scene from every media outlet, snapping pictures of their outlet's nominees and guests as they arrived.
Immediately behind Clark and Lana was a sedan from which Cat Grant emerged with Jose Delgado. Cat was wearing a surprisingly modest short sleeve deep blue satin evening gown with a golden chiffon shawl and black stiletto heels. Delgado was wearing a black three-piece charcoal gray suit.
She caught up with Clark and Lana before they entered the main hall and whispered in his ear, "Hey handsome. Good luck tonight. I am praying you take the Journalist of the Year Emjay home just to watch Lois melt down."
Clark recognized the voice and turned back to see her. She looked beautiful and Clark told her so. Cat smiled graciously and introduced her date. He shook hands with Delgado who was picking his jaw up off the floor after glimpsing Lana Lang and then introduced her to him. Clark then introduced Lana to Cat, and they seemed to genuinely click.
They moved onward into the hall in which tables had been set. The ushers at the door had the seating charts and once Clark gave the usher his name, she escorted the two of them to their table. George Taylor, his wife Beatrice, Mark Dawson and his wife, Beth, and Arlene Masterson and her husband Bob, were already seated at the table. Clark introduced Lana to everyone, and they joined the Daily Star table. Clark made sure that Lana sat next to Beatrice, allowing them to make small talk about Smallville during the dinner and awards ceremony.
Champagne was chilling in a bucket on the table and Clark asked Lana, "Would you like something to drink from the bar?"
She replied, "A Cosmopolitan martini, please," and Clark was off to one of the bars at the back of the room.
There he saw Steve Lombard waiting for a drink. The two shook hands and Steve mentioned that they should talk later. He wanted to know more about why Clark had left Met U and if football was still a possibility. He watched as Lombard made his way to the Daily Planet table. He looked at who was seated there but he did not see Lois.
The bartender asked what he was having, and he gave him Lana's drink order and for himself, a tonic water with a twist of lime. When the bartender finished, Clark slipped him a five-dollar tip and turned around, staring directly into the eyes of Lois Lane.
"Whoa! Look who it is. Smallville's in the house," she called out with a slight smile. "What a surprise to see you here."
"Lois, wow! You look…breathtaking," he stammered.
She wore a black short sleeve satin gown with an embroidered bodice and a wide white satin V-neck collar that dipped midway down her back. Around her neck was a rather large, elegant diamond solitaire necklace.
"Thank you, Clark. And you look…ah, different," she smiled and cocked her head, "sort of like Smallville's version of James Bond.
"I wanted to look my best for the cameras when I accept the Journalist of the Year award tonight," she said with a smirk.
Clark raised his eyebrows. "You'll have to win it first, Miss Lane."
Both felt the spark. Both felt a special connection. They were sparring, playful banter that belied the fact that they were both interested in speaking to one another again and now was not the time or place to do that.
"I'm not worried about that, Kent. I'm worried that I won't have enough hands to carry both awards and a bottle of champagne when I leave."
"Well, you should ask Steve Lombard for help," Clark replied. "Last time we were all at a party together, it seemed that Steve was happily providing you a pair of hands."
She sighed dramatically. "I guess I could always depend on my date, Lex Luthor, to help if I need it."
"Something tells me that won't be necessary," Clark replied and smirked.
"We'll see about that farm boy. Now, don't you have chickens to count or something? Excuse me, I need to order a drink."
Clark smiled and stepped aside. "I think you're going to need to order a lot of them before the evening is out."
She countered. "And I think the 70's is calling and it wants those birth control glasses back." She chuffed and shook her head. "Really, Kent!"
She stepped to the bar, and he leaned close and whispered to her, "Well, I need to get back to my table, but I did want to tell you that your dress is amazing, Lois. There's just one thing that would make It would even better." He paused.
"What's that? Wait, don't tell me. You're going to say, 'your date wearing it', right?" she asked and rolled her eyes.
"No. My date looks spectacular in the dress she's in." He picked up the two drinks and started to move but leaned closer as he passed her and said, "I was going to say that your dress would look even better without the tag hanging off the back of it," and walked off.
Lana's back was to the bar, so she missed the exchange. When he sat down, he saw Lois out of the corner of his eye, with her hand behind her back, feeling around as discreetly as she could, trying to find the tag. Clark chuckled because there was no tag hanging there.
Throughout the evening, the two made periodic eye contact. When they did, Lois did her best to look perturbed and Clark simply smiled. Then they would both look away and re-engage with whomever they were talking with or listening to. That continued until about halfway through the event when Lois was announced as the winner of the 2019 Investigative Journalist award. It was her third win in a row, and it caused Perry White to stand up and cheer as she went to the dais to receive the award. In her acceptance speech, she thanked Perry and the hardworking reporters and staff at the Daily Planet for their support. She concluded by thanking the Metropolis Journalism Guild for honoring her with the award.
She returned to her table with a standing ovation from those in attendance from the Daily Planet. She set her award down in front of her place at the table and accepted handshakes and hugs from those around her, including Lex Luthor, her escort for the evening, who kissed her on the cheek. Lois sat and looked across at Clark with a raised eyebrow. He smiled, nodded, and raised a glass in a silent toast to her award.
Lana caught Lois's eye, smiled, gave her a thumbs up, and mouthed, 'Congratulations'. She smiled and mouthed, 'thank you' in return.
As the event drew to its conclusion, the final award announced was the 2019 Journalist of the Year award. The selection process was described by the Guild's president, as if any of the journalists did not already know. She attempted to build excitement by talking about what an honor it was and how any of the nominees were deserving and how difficult the selection process was for the nominated 2019 works. The president then announced Clark Kent of the Daily Star, the Metropolis Journalism Guild's 2019 Journalist of the Year.
There was an audible gasp when Clark's name was announced, followed by thunderous applause. Lana hugged his neck and as he stood, George Taylor shook his hand and patted him on the shoulder. Clark made his way to the dais and accepted his award. He thanked the Guild for his nomination and selection. He then thanked George Taylor for submitting his work in the first place. He stated how humbling the recognition was for him and how he knew the others in consideration for the award were equally deserving. He looked directly at Lois when he said that, and she looked defiant and annoyed. That caused Clark to crack a smile and lose his train of thought for a moment. He recognized his fellow journalists in the room for their hard work and dedication to the demands of bringing the public the truth.
As Clark left the stage, he received a standing ovation from a majority of the people in attendance. He did not see whether Lois was standing or seated but when he returned to the table, handshakes, hugs and a kiss from Lana were waiting.
Music began playing and people got up and made their way to the bar, the bathroom, or the exits. Those who won awards tended to remain in place with a small contingent from their outlet around them.
Clark looked at Lana. "May I get you another martini?" he asked.
"That would be great," she replied. "I'm going to wander over to the WGBS tables and say hello to some of my colleagues there before they leave. I wanted to congratulate the three that won Emjays," she added. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Lana rose to leave as Clark rose to go to the bar. Lois watched the exchange closely and told Lex that she was going to get a drink as well. She fell into line behind Clark, and he suspected she would. In fact, he heard her heart beating close by. "So, it seems the Guild is handing out sympathy awards now."
"Was that what it was for?" Clark asked without turning around.
"Has to be," she replied, "you won it." Lois was frustrated.
Clark chuckled. "So, what does that say about the other two who were nominated but didn't get it?"
"We weren't as pitiful," she shot back. "Of course, if I had known that was the criteria, I would have expected you to receive it. You're kind of like 'Mr. Irrelevant' in the NFL draft."
He turned around with a smirk on his face and saw the Lois eyes were watery and the smirk faded. "For what it's worth, Lois, I don't think I deserved that award either. I don't know what the other journalist wrote or broadcast, but to be honest, I was pleased that Mr. Taylor thought enough of it to even submit it for consideration for general interest journalism."
Clark's admission took the wind out of Lois's sails. "What is with those glasses, Kent? Jesus! Have you ever heard of contact lenses?"
Clark frowned. "Ever since I got hit on the head, my eyesight has been messed up. I tried contacts first, but I can't wear them. They give me eye infections."
"Living around farm animals will give you eye infections too," she countered. "Those things make your eyes look weird in a creepy, Deliverance sort of way."
The line moved and Clark stepped forward and ordered a Cosmopolitan and a tonic water with a twist of lime. He turned back around. "So, what's next for the intrepid Lois Lane?"
"Me? I'm going to nail down this Avenging Angel dude and get his or her story, win a Pulitzer, probably demand a raise, and move to a better apartment," she replied.
He chuffed. "Sounds like you have it all worked out. Good luck, Lois. I hear it's all an elaborate hoax. Kind of an internet thing to attract likes or traffic to a blog."
She grew dead serious for a moment. "It's not a hoax and I have firsthand knowledge of that."
"You do? Firsthand knowledge?"
She grabbed his arm. "Honest to God, I haven't told a soul this. But if it wasn't for whatever this thing is, I'd be on a ventilator or a slab right now." He gave her his best skeptical look. "It happened last weekend. I'm serious."
"Here you go, Sir," the bartender said, and Clark turned around, gave him a tip and stepped aside to let Lois place her order.
"I'm intrigued," Clark said. "Maybe we can catch lunch next week and you can tell me all about it, Lois."
She frowned. "Sure, so you can steal my story right out from under me? Unlike you, I didn't just fall off a pumpkin truck. Get your own story, Kent. I'm going to bag this guy or gal or whatever it is, and they can keep the Emjay next year because I'll be pulling down a Pulitzer!"
He stood and stared at her for a moment. "What?" she asked.
"I hate myself for finding you so attractive when you get all wound up like that." He paused. "You really do look breathtaking in that gown tonight, Lois."
Clark could hear her heart beating faster and pounding harder when he said it and a slight smile crossed his face. She blushed. "For a moment there, Smallville, one could almost mistake you for being charming," she replied, smirking. She then added, "In a hay ride sort of way."