A stranger from a strange land

He came to ours

The last of his tribe

Never to escape, never to belong

For Truth, for Justice, for Hope

The legend endures

The name will never fade

Superman

ACT 1

S1

The golden rays of morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of Lois and Clark's cozy Metropolis apartment. The scent of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air but the serenity was quickly broken by the clatter of heels on hardwood.

Lois Lane zipped around the living room, balancing her phone in one hand while attempting to wrestle her stubborn hair into submission with the other. Already dressed in a crisp white blouse and a charcoal skirt that meant business, she exuded the energy of a woman ready to conquer the day or at least Franklin Stern's deadlines.

Clark Kent, meanwhile, was decidedly not in a hurry. Leaning casually against the kitchen counter, he wore his ever-reliable plaid shirt and jeans, taking long gulps from a half-empty orange juice bottle.

Lois froze mid-step, her phone sliding into her bag as her sharp gaze zeroed in on him.

"Seriously?" - she said, folding her arms across her chest. - "Drinking straight from the bottle? Did Martha Kent raise you with barnyard manners?

Clark looked up, the faintest smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. - "What? It saves time." - he said with a shrug, holding the bottle out for emphasis.

She arched an eyebrow, tilting her head like a predator circling prey. - "Mrs. K raised you better than that, Smallville."

"Hey" - Clark said, standing up straighter. - "I was raised on a farm. It's called efficiency." - He punctuated the last word with a grin, as though that somehow justified his lack of decorum.

Lois rolled her eyes and marched toward him, plucking the bottle from his hand with mock indignation. - "Is that what we're calling laziness these days? You're supposed to be setting an example, Mr. Efficiency."

Clark held up his hands in surrender, though the grin on his face suggested he was anything but sorry. - "Less dishes to wash." - he said simply.

Lois shook her head, pouring herself a glass instead and placing the bottle back in the fridge with a dramatic flair. - "Efficiency…" - she muttered under her breath, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Clark leaned against the counter, watching her with a fondness he didn't bother to hide. - "You know, I don't remember this much judgment when I was saving the world last week."

"Oh, don't pull the Blur card on me." - Lois shot back, smirking. - "This is about setting an example, Mr. Kent. I can't have people thinking Clark Kent is also the Man of Questionable Manners."

Clark chuckled, grabbing his glasses from the counter and sliding them on. - "Fair point. Guess I'll just have to save the day and use a glass next time."

"Fair but try telling that to Franklin Stern when you show up late again. Speaking of which…" - Lois grabbed her purse and checked the time on her phone. Her eyes widened. - "Great, we're running late, again. If Stern has to yell at us one more time…"

Her words trailed off as she looked Clark up and down. - "Wait. Are you seriously planning to show up at the Planet dressed like that?" - She gestured to his plaid shirt, her expression somewhere between amused and horrified.

Clark grinned, adjusting his glasses. - "Why not? Plaid's timeless."

"Daily Planet dress code, Mr. Kent." - Lois corrected. She moved toward the door, heels clicking as she went. - "If you're late again, Smallville, you're on coffee duty for a week."

Clark straightened, suddenly all confidence. - "I'll beat you there. And I'll still have time to change."

Lois turned back, narrowing her eyes at him. - "Is that a challenge?"

Clark just smiled. - "Maybe."

Lois didn't wait for an answer. She swung the door open and rushed out, already dialing her favorite cab service. Behind her, Clark stood for a moment, listening to her footsteps echo down the hallway. Then, with a small smirk, he set the orange juice bottle back on the counter.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving the apartment in perfect stillness, save for the faint whoosh of wind and the soft wobble of the bottle as it rocked slightly on the counter.

Outside, Lois was halfway down the street when a breeze tousled her hair. She froze, her eyes darting to the Daily Planet globe in the distance. A knowing smile spread across her face. - "Show-off…" - she muttered, before flagging down a taxi.

S2

The revolving doors of the Daily Planet turned endlessly, letting in the constant stream of reporters, delivery workers and ambitious interns hustling to make their mark. The building hummed with the energy of breaking news and looming deadlines. In the midst of the chaos, a young boy stood near the reception desk, his hands gripping the strap of his backpack tightly.

He was no older than fourteen, dressed in a neatly pressed shirt and tie that looked like it had been picked out by someone else, probably his mom. His auburn curls peeked out from under a Metropolis Monarchs baseball cap that he wore tilted slightly backward. His sneakers squeaked faintly on the polished marble floor as he shifted his weight nervously, glancing at the clock above the security desk.

A cheerful but slightly nervous grin was plastered across his face. This was it, his first day as the Daily Planet's junior intern, a title he'd earned after submitting an essay to the Future Journalists of America competition. His reward? A chance to shadow Franklin Stern himself, the legendary publisher of one of the world's most famous newspaper.

The boy straightened his tie for the third time and adjusted his backpack. He approached the front desk with a deep breath.

"Hi." - he said, his voice cracking just a little. - "I'm James Olsen. I'm here for the junior internship. I'm supposed to meet Mr. Stern."

The receptionist, a woman with a perfectly styled bob and a headset perched over one ear, gave him a polite smile. - "Let me check for you, hon. Wait right here." - She typed into her computer and James took a step back, nervously glancing around the bustling lobby.

That's when it happened: A blur of motion came from his left and before he could react, someone collided with him. The force sent him stumbling, but he managed to keep his balance.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" - came a deep, hurried voice.

James looked up to see a tall man in a gray suit standing in front of him. The man was broad-shouldered with thick, black-framed glasses perched on his nose. A loose strand of dark hair curled over his forehead. He bent slightly, his expression apologetic.

"I didn't see you there. Are you all right?" - the man asked, adjusting his glasses.

"I'm fine…" - James replied, brushing himself off. - "No harm done."

The man gave a sheepish chuckle but as he straightened up and got a better look at James, his expression changed. His easy smile froze, his eyes widened, and his face turned pale.

James tilted his head, confused. "Uh... you okay?"

The man didn't answer immediately. He stared at James, his lips parting slightly as though he wanted to speak but couldn't find the words.

"What's your name?" - the man finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

James blinked, puzzled by the sudden intensity. "Uh... James. James Olsen."

The man's breath hitched audibly, and his hands clenched at his sides. - "Jimmy…" the man muttered under his breath, as if saying the name hurt.

James frowned. - "Yeah... how'd you know? Did Mr. Stern tell you about me or something?"

Before the man could answer, the receptionist called out, breaking the tension.

"Mr. Olsen?" - she said, her tone bright. - "Mr. Stern is ready for you. Just take the elevator to the top floor, and his assistant will meet you there."

James looked back at the man in glasses, who now seemed lost in thought. He hesitated, unsure whether to say something but the receptionist's words pulled him back. - "Uh, thanks." James said awkwardly before turning toward the elevator.

As he walked away, he glanced over his shoulder one last time. The man in glasses was still standing there, watching him with an expression that James couldn't quite place, something between sadness and disbelief.

Clark Kent stood rooted to the spot, his heart pounding. He'd known this day would come eventually but nothing had prepared him for it. The resemblance was uncanny, the boy's voice, his mannerisms, even the way he tilted his head when he was confused. It was as if Jimmy Olsen, his late best friend, had been reborn.

Clark took a deep breath and adjusted his glasses, his mind racing. James Olsen: Junior intern, the younger brother of Henry James Olsen, Chloe late husband.

Clark's heart ached at the name but he forced himself to move, blending into the crowd as the boy disappeared into the elevator.

"Clark! What are you doing standing around like you're lost?" - The sharp voice jolted Clark out of his daze. He turned to see Cat Grant striding across the lobby in towering heels, her hair and outfit looking as immaculate as ever. A notebook was tucked under her arm, and her ever-present smirk curled on her lips.

"Conference room. Now." - Cat said, pointing her pen at him like a sword. "Everyone's been summoned. Stern's called an emergency staff meeting and I don't think it's to compliment your latest puff piece on cat adoption."

Clark blinked, still shaken but managed to nod. - "Uh, yeah. I'm on my way."

Cat's eyes narrowed slightly, as if noticing his hesitation. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. - "You look like you've just seen a ghost, Clark. Everything okay?"

Clark gave her a tight smile. - "Yeah, just... lost in thought."

Cat shrugged. - "Well, snap out of it. Stern's waiting, and he's in one of those moods. Trust me, you don't want to be late." - As she turned and clicked her way toward the elevator, Clark glanced once more at the lift James had taken. The doors were now closed, but the image of the boy, so eerily familiar, was seared into his mind.

With a sigh, Clark adjusted his tie and headed for the stairwell, his thoughts still tangled in the past.

"Jimmy…" Clark whispered under his breath as he climbed the stairs.

S3

The glass-walled conference room on the top floor of the Daily Planet was buzzing with chatter as reporters, columnists, and photographers took their seats. Franklin Stern, the paper's publisher, stood at the head of the long table, his arms crossed and his piercing gaze sweeping over the assembled staff.

The hum of voices died down as he cleared his throat, commanding the room without saying a word. He was a man who didn't need to raise his voice to be heard; his presence was enough.

"All right, people." - Stern began, his tone brisk. - "Let's get to it. We've got deadlines to meet, a paper to put out and a city that never stops moving. So, I'll cut right to the chase."

He tapped a folder on the table in front of him, his expression stern. - "The Blur." The room fell completely silent. Everyone's attention snapped to him. - "It's been ten weeks since his public debut, the biggest story in the world right now and yet here we are with grasping with straws. This paper needs an exclusive people. No more hearsay, no more blurry photos, pardon the pun. I want an interview."

There was a murmur of excitement and unease among the staff.

"Mr. Stern." - Catherine Grant interjected, her perfectly manicured nails tapping on the edge of the table. - "With all due respect, the Blur doesn't exactly give sit-down interviews. No one's even seen him up close, let alone talked to him. Except…" - She glanced toward an empty chair near the middle of the table. - "Except Lois Lane." - Cat finished, raising an eyebrow.

All heads turned as if on cue when the door to the conference room opened. Lois Lane strode in, her bag slung over one shoulder and her hair slightly windswept, no doubt from sprinting through the city traffic.

"Traffic is a killer." - Lois said, sounding entirely unapologetic as she dropped into her chair and pulled out her notebook. - "What'd I miss?"

"Just your name being mentioned as the only person in this room who can get an interview with the Blur." - Cat quipped with a sly smile.

Lois arched an eyebrow. - "Well, that's because I'm the only one in this room he trusts." - She smirked and leaned back in her chair, clearly enjoying the attention.

Franklin Stern, however, was not in the mood for theatrics. - "Lois…" he said sharply, bringing her back to the moment. - "I'm serious. We need this interview. The Blur is more than just a vigilante, he's a symbol of hope for this city and the people deserve to know his story. Can you make it happen?"

Lois hesitated for a split second but recovered quickly. - "I can try but you know how he is, he's not exactly keen on the spotlight."

"Try harder." - Stern said, his tone brooking no argument. - "Because if you don't, you'll be spending more time in the minors."

Lois frowned, her smirk vanishing. - "The minors?"

"You heard me." - Stern replied, picking up a different folder. - "Like the story I'm assigning you now. The Metropolis Museum is unveiling a new exhibit tomorrow, and I want you there to cover it. Human interest piece, nice and fluffy."

"What?!" - Lois shot out of her chair. - "The museum? I'm not a fluff piece journalist, I'm an investigative reporter! I should be covering the Lex Luthor trial! That's my story!"

Stern looked unimpressed. - "And yet, it's not. I'm giving the Luthor trial to Kent."

The room went dead silent. Every pair of eyes turned toward Clark Kent, who was sitting quietly in his chair, looking equal parts surprised and horrified.

"Me?" - Clark asked, his voice barely above a whisper. - "Uh, are you sure? Lois…"

Before Clark could finish, Lois shot out of her seat. - "Wait a second! Why is Clark getting the Luthor trial? That's my story, Stern! Chop-blocking me at this time?"

Stern didn't flinch under her fiery protest. - "Until you get me that Blur interview, Lane, you'll be covering fluff pieces like the Metropolis Museum expo until you're ninety."

Lois was livid. - "Seriously? Are you kidding me?"

Stern smirked. - "Think of it as motivation. You want the big stories again? Prove you can deliver on, the biggest one of all."

Lois opened her mouth to argue but quickly realized she was losing ground. Her shoulders slumped slightly but she refused to back down completely. - "Fine!" - she said through gritted teeth. - "But you better believe I'm not staying on the bench for long."

Stern smiled, clearly enjoying the exchange. - "Good. And take the kid with you."

Lois frowned, confused. - "What kid?"

At that moment, the door creaked open, and a young boy with wide eyes and a nervous smile stepped inside.

"Uh, hi…"- Jimmy said awkwardly, clutching his bag. - "I'm James Olsen. The new junior intern?"

Lois stared at him, then turned back to Stern. - "You've got to be kidding me."

"Not at all." - Stern said, smirking. - "Jimmy here just won the junior internship, and he'll be shadowing our best reporters. Consider him your responsibility for the day. Show him how it's done."

Lois sighed, rubbing her temples. - "Great. Babysitting. Just what I needed."

"End of discussion."

Lois glared at him, her jaw tight. She opened her mouth to argue again but Stern raised a hand to stop her. - "And if you want to get out of the minors, Lane, get me that Blur interview. Otherwise, you'll be writing about ribbon cuttings for the foreseeable future."

Lois sank back into her chair, fuming silently. Clark glanced over at her, looking deeply uncomfortable.

"I… I appreciate the opportunity, Mr. Stern." - Clark said awkwardly, trying to defuse the tension.

Stern nodded. - "Good. Don't blow it." - He turned back to the room. - "All right, moving on. Jenkins, you're on the mayor's press conference. Grant, I need an updated column on the Metropolis singles scene, something a little more… professional this time."

Cat rolled her eyes but made a note on her tablet.

The meeting continued but Lois sat stewing, her notebook untouched. Clark shot her another glance, unsure whether to say something or stay quiet.

"Don't…" - Lois said sharply, not looking at him.

"Don't what?"

"Whatever you're about to say to make me feel better." - she snapped. - "I don't want to hear it."

Clark sighed and looked down at his own notes, deciding to let it go.

As the meeting wrapped up, Stern clapped his hands. - "All right, people, you've got your assignments. Let's get to work!"

The room emptied quickly, but Lois lingered behind, her expression a mixture of anger and determination.

"You okay?" - Clark asked softly as he stood.

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. - "Minor leagues my ass..." - she muttered, more to herself than to him.

Clark watched her storm out of the room and then he looked Jimmy. – "You better hurry up and keep up with the fast Lane…"

"OLSEN!"

Jimmy nodded at Clark. – "Got it!"

S4

The courthouse was alive with the buzz of reporters and the shuffling of people filing into the courtroom. Outside, the press swarmed like vultures, eager to catch a glimpse of Lex Luthor, the infamous billionaire and former savior-turned-pariah of Metropolis. Inside a small, sparsely furnished holding room, Lex sat alone at a long metal table.

He looked to a degree, impeccable as it should be in a trial but not so fancy suit, his polished shoes reflecting the overhead light but his eyes told a different story: Behind the calm, calculating mask, there was turmoil.

He tapped a finger rhythmically against the table, the only sound in the otherwise silent room. A clock ticked on the wall, marking the minutes until he would be escorted into the courtroom to face judgment but Lex's thoughts were far from the trial: Why couldn't he remember?

He clenched his jaw, his gaze fixed on the table. His mind, so often a fortress of clarity and logic, felt like a labyrinth. Tess Mercer's face lingered in his thoughts, a ghost he couldn't banish. - "She betrayed me." - Lex muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. - "But why?"

The memories were fractured, like shards of glass from a shattered mirror. He remembered Tess working at LuthorCorp, her cunning mind, her quiet strength. He remembered her loyalty at least, he thought he did. But then there were gaps, black holes in his mind where entire pieces of his life had been erased.

Lex leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. His composure faltered for a brief moment, his frustration slipping through the cracks: What was she protecting him from?

The door opened suddenly and a uniformed officer stepped in, breaking Lex's train of thought. - "It's time, Mr. Luthor." - the officer said.

Lex didn't respond immediately. He stared at the man, his piercing gaze making the officer shift uncomfortably. Finally, Lex stood, adjusting his tie with deliberate precision.

"Time…" - he said, a bitter smirk curling his lips. - "The one thing I can't seem to control."

As the officer gestured for him to follow, Lex walked to the door but stopped just before stepping through. He turned, his eyes narrowing as though speaking to someone who wasn't there. - "Was it fear, Tess? Did you think I couldn't handle the truth? Or was it arrogance, your belief that you knew what was best for me?"

The officer glanced at Lex, confused. - "Sir?"

Lex ignored him, his voice lowering to a near whisper.

"Whatever you tried to bury… I'll find it. Every memory you stole, every secret you kept, I'll uncover it all."

He straightened his posture and strode out of the room with the officer trailing behind. The heavy doors to the courtroom loomed ahead, the muffled sounds of the crowd inside growing louder.

As Lex approached, his smirk returned but this time, it was colder. Calculating - "Showtime." - he muttered under his breath.

To be continued…