Lois strode down the hall connecting the parking garage to her family's apartment building, her shoes echoing off the gray concrete walls.
She always hated this hallway. After dark, once most of the residents were home or asleep, it was constantly empty. Walking through here alone felt claustrophobic; like walking into a cold, lonely coffin.
"Miss Lane," said a voice from behind her.
Lois stopped and spun around. On the opposite side of the hallway stood Lionel Luthor.
Lois immediately felt uneasy. Normally, she'd feign amusement at Lionel's attempt to intimidate her—or, at least, she assumed he was here to intimidate her. Why else would he show up alone at her home? She glanced at his right hand. A gun rested in it. Lois felt her heart beat slightly faster. Did he bring a gun just to scare her out of publishing her story? Did he know that she'd already published the story?
"I warned you," said Lionel, "that this was not over."
Lois saw fear in Lionel's eyes. His normally-calm attitude was cracking. His hands trembled slightly.
Lionel raised the gun. Lois felt a shock of fear run up her spine.
"Lionel... what are you doing?"
"You wounded me, Miss Lane. My empire bleeds. But I am not yet dead."
Lois, though disturbed by Lionel's self-ascribed royalty, understood his meaning. She'd found damning evidence connecting Lionel to hundreds of crimes. Not only had she—with the help of Ray Palmer—discovered Luthorcorp's illegal surveillance technology, but Bruce had given her copies of the video recordings he'd stolen from Luthorcorp's security computers—recordings that proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Lionel Luthor was the criminal mastermind behind innumerable abominations. In effect, Lois had already put the gun to Lionel's head and pulled the trigger. Lionel wasn't here to threaten her, or assure her of his absolute dominance. He was here to kill her.
What could she do? Could she reach the door and get out before he shot her? No. Not likely. Could she call for help? No one would hear her on the other side of the thick doorway, let alone in their own apartments. Would Clark hear? Maybe. Just maybe.
Dread filled Lois's heart. No, Clark was gone with the others. He couldn't save her.
She fought back her emotions. "Lionel, it doesn't... you don't have to—" Tears broke her voice. "Please. Please, don't."
Lionel, his hands still lightly shaking, didn't waver in his determination.
"Vengeance is mine; I will repay."
In the Lanes' apartment, a muffled echo was heard. It was nondescript and indistinguishable from any other vague noise, except perhaps to those trained to recognize it.
In the cold hallway, the echo was deafening.
Lois didn't feel the bullet rip into her chest, nor did she feel herself fall to the floor. Her entire body went numb as she collapsed and bled, the life draining from her permanently.
Lionel felt shock run through his body. He took a precious few seconds to regain himself, then turned to leave the way he'd come.
Lex Luthor stood in his way.
Lex's face was covered in tears, his expression that of disbelief and horror.
Lionel tried to reason with him. "Lex. You followed me? Son, I—" Lionel stopped in mid-sentence when he saw the gun resting in Lex's hand.
"...What are you doing?" asked Lionel.
Lex shook his head. "I... I can't let you do it, dad. Not anymore."
Lionel cautiously stepped back. "Son, what are you talking about?"
"I won't sit back and let you hurt people anymore."
"You... you gave me your loyalty; you told me you wanted to follow in my footsteps—"
"I LIED!"
"...I see. Then you truly are a Luthor."
"I don't care. I just want you to pay for what you've done."
"So you want me to go to prison?"
"No. You'll pay your lawyers a few millions to figure a way to get out."
Lex raised his gun. "You need to die."
Lionel felt ice crawl up his spine. "Son, please, we could work together. You and I. We can find a way out of this. We will own the world."
Lex stilled himself. "I don't want that."
Lionel took that in for a moment, then scowled as he raised his own gun. "You were never any good as a son anyway."
A second gunshot sounded off, and Lionel Luthor's body fell to the floor.
Lex, horrified at what had just happened, sank to his knees, weeping. He threw the gun aside.
The door on the apartment-side flung open. General Sam Lane, Lois's father, stood alarmed in the doorway, a gun of his own in hand. He took in the room: Lionel Luthor, lying dead, his blood coating the floor. Lex weeping on his knees at his father's side. And finally, Lois.
"Lois!"
Sam dropped his gun and cradled his daughter's lifeless body.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Destiny
The Javelin slipped through the atmosphere, its stealth engines screaming silently into the night.
Inside the Javelin, the group remained quiet. Clark, Diana, Hal, Bruce, Zatanna, and Barry all sat without saying a word.
Diana walked over and sat down next to Hal.
Hal gave her a nervous look. Was she mad at him for something else this time?
"Hal, thank you," said Diana. "Thank you for coming for me."
Hal smiled and gave her a "no problem" nod.
Without warning, everyone in the plane felt something pass through them—like a ripple in the air itself. The back section of the crew section exploded with light, nearly blinding everyone in the Javelin. Slowly, the silhouette of a man in a silver throne resolved. As the light faded slightly, the man came into clearer view. He wore a blue bodysuit, covering all but his face. His hands were placed together, and his face was set into a slight frown, as if in deep thought. The chair in which he sat hovered a foot off the ground.
"Who are you?!" Clark asked the man.
"I am Metron," the man said, his voice eerily monotone. "I am a traveler and surveyor; this Mobius chair is my ship, and time is my ocean. I, along with others, have been watching you."
"What others?" asked Bruce.
As if in response, five more beings appeared from the light vortex behind Metron.
One of them was Bart. His clothes were torn and bloody in places; he looked exhausted.
"Hey, guys," Bart said with a weak smile.
The group bombarded Bart with a dozen questions.
"Are you okay?"
"Who are these people?"
"Where's Circe?!"
"It's okay, guys," he replied. "I'm okay. Circe's still stuck in timespace somewhere. This is the Legion." He pointed with his thumb at the four teenagers standing behind Metron. "They're from my time. The 31st Century."
The tallest, a black-haired boy, stepped forward. "Rokk Krinn. Cosmic Boy."
"Garth Ranzz. Lightning Lad," said the energetic red-haired boy at Rokk's side.
A blonde girl smiled gently and nodded. "Imra Ardeen. Saturn Girl."
"Brainiac 5," said the last one, a green-skinned blonde boy.
"First," said Rokk, "I want to say what an honor it is to meet you all." Rokk turned to Clark. "Especially you, Kal."
Clark gave him a wary look. "How do you know that name?"
"...It's a long story," said Rokk. "But, secondly, we owe you all an apology."
"...Why?" asked Clark.
Brainiac 5 stepped forward. "We sent Bart back in time, hoping to save him from an overcharge of his powers."
"An overcharge?" Barry asked.
"Yes," Brainiac replied. "Bart is a third-generation speedster. His biology is a little different. His powers began to manifest when his body was still too young to handle them, and we needed to find a way to siphon the extra energy."
"We thought," said Rokk, "That using his powers to send him back through time would save him. It did, but... in doing so, we did irreparable harm to the time-space continuum."
"'Harm' is technically the wrong word," said Brainiac. "Things have changed."
"What do you mean 'changed?'" asked Diana.
"Events have now changed," Brainiac explained. "The entire world is now different than our history remembers it."
"How is that possible?" asked Bruce.
"It's incredibly complicated," Brainiac said, slightly annoyed. "We remember things differently because our time-travel technology—which we perfected two years after we sent Bart back in time—shielded us from the changes in the timeline."
"You keep talking about changes," said Clark. "What changes? What's different?"
"For one thing," Rokk said, "you were never supposed to meet while still in—what do you call it?"
"High school," said Imra.
"Right. You were never supposed to meet this early."
"...So then why have we met?" asked Clark.
"At times of great conflict," said Metron, his voice resonating with a slightly chilling tone, "warriors of good often rise to challenge evil. Their meeting is destined."
"...So what you're saying," said Diana, "is that we met earlier because we were supposed to defeat some sort of evil that's now come earlier in the timeline?"
Rokk nodded. "That's our thinking, yes."
"Could it have been Circe?" asked Zatanna. "Could it have been her that we were supposed to defeat?"
"It is indeed possible," said Metron.
"...The world from before," said Bruce, "how was it different?"
Metron's cold expression seemed to narrow slightly. "Are you sure you wish to know? The secrets of existence are not meant for those who wish to live in peace."
"Yes," Bruce answered.
Metron's chair hovered a bit higher, and the light behind him brightened and shifted while the rest of the light in the cabin darkened. A massive image of the Earth resolved, hovering in space. "This Earth is but one of many." The Earth slid to the side, revealing a line of identical Earths in a single line stretching backward into space. "Each Earth represents an entirely separate universe. It is a multiverse we live in, with countless variations between worlds." The line of Earths moved and spun until a single Earth sat in the center. "This," Metron explained, "is the primary Earth. The lone world upon which all others are mirrored from. It is the true ideal; the standard by which all other worlds are judged. Before the boy's venture through time, your world was virtually identical to this one in every respect."
Metron lifted his hand toward the youths. "Gaze now upon your true destinies."
The vortex of light burst forth, nearly blinding everyone in the Javelin. Clark, Bruce, Diana, Barry, Bart, Zatanna, and Hal each saw visions.
Diana saw herself—older, clad in red, gold, and blue, the lasso of truth hanging at her belt. She recognized the golden eagle on her armor and the shining tiara on her head: the garments of both Amazonian royalty and that of the true Ambassador of Peace.
Barry saw himself in red, running near the speed of light itself as the protector of Central City.
Bart saw much the same thing, but... different. He would not become the hero that his grandfather would, at least not until much later in life.
Zatanna saw herself much as she was now, but with a far greater grasp of her magics. She effortlessly cast spells of immense power, battling the great evils of sorcery.
Bruce saw darkness. He had become a dark knight wrapped in shadow, his every thought and action forged into a weapon against Gotham's criminal underworld. He would save the city night after night, but sacrifice his own livelihood in the process. He was alone.
Hal saw nothing clearly. Whatever lay before him was overpowered by a blinding green light.
Clark saw a vision of himself—older, taller, and clad in blue and red. He stood in the sky as a beacon of hope, a leader of many, and the world's greatest hero. And, ever-present at his side, stood Lois. She was the one who gave him hope; who loved him and accepted his love in return. She was his beloved, and though the world never knew it, it was her and Clark's love that had saved the world a thousand times over.
All seven of them then saw a single vision. Their future selves stood together with many others, standing watch over the planet, protecting it from evil time and time again.
Bart's eyes widened as he recognized the group:
The Justice League.
In an instant, the vision winked out of existence.
"This is what may come, if all goes well," said Metron. "But do not become complacent. The actions of many determine the destinies of all."
"Now," said Rokk, "it's time to go. Bart?"
Bart nodded, then turned to his friends. "Guys... I need to go."
"What do you mean 'go?'" asked Clark.
"Bart is basically a lightning rod for time-space distortions," Brainiac 5 explained. "We need to bring him back to his own time—our time—in order to figure out what to do about it, and to keep any more damage from being done to history."
"...You're leaving?" asked Diana.
Bart nodded, doing his best not to tear up. He walked to Diana, and hugged her. "Thanks," he said. "For... y'know, being there for me." Diana smiled sadly in return.
Bart pulled away from Diana, and nearly backed into Bruce, who had extended his hand. Bart, surprised, shook Bruce's hand. Bruce and Bart exchanged a solid look, the way that comrades-in-arms might.
Finally, Bart shared a quick man-hug with Clark before walking back to Metron and the Legionnaires.
"We'll be picking up Iris on the way, too," Imra explained. "Don't worry when she disappears."
"Will we ever see Bart again?" Clark asked.
Rokk smirked. "Maybe. If Brainy here can figure out how to do that safely, we'll make it happen."
Brainiac 5 rolled his eyes. "Please. Don't insult my 12th-level intelligence. Of course I can figure it out. It'll only take time."
"Speaking of which," said Rokk, looking at the chronometer on his wrist, "we need to go, now, while the rift is still open."
The Legionnaires stepped back towards the swirling light. Brainiac tapped a few keys on his wrist-mounted computer, and the light completely enveloped the time-travelers. Clark could barely make out Bart mouthing the word "bye" before he, Metron, and the Legion members all disappeared along with the time rift.
"Did she say 'Iris?'" asked Barry.
Everyone else remained awkwardly silent.
Inside the Javelin, the group remained quiet. Clark, Diana, Hal, Bruce, Zatanna, and Barry all sat without saying a word.
Diana walked over and sat down next to Hal.
Hal gave her a nervous look. Was she mad at him for something else this time?
"Hal, thank you," said Diana. "Thank you for coming for me."
Hal smiled and gave her a "no problem" nod.
Without warning, everyone in the plane felt something pass through them—like a ripple in the air itself. The back section of the crew section exploded with light, nearly blinding everyone in the Javelin. Slowly, the silhouette of a man in a silver throne resolved. As the light faded slightly, the man came into clearer view. He wore a blue bodysuit, covering all but his face. His hands were placed together, and his face was set into a slight frown, as if in deep thought. The chair in which he sat hovered a foot off the ground.
"Who are you?!" Clark asked the man.
"I am Metron," the man said, his voice eerily monotone. "I am a traveler and surveyor; this Mobius chair is my ship, and time is my ocean. I, along with others, have been watching you."
"What others?" asked Bruce.
As if in response, five more beings appeared from the light vortex behind Metron.
One of them was Bart. His clothes were torn and bloody in places; he looked exhausted.
"Hey, guys," Bart said with a weak smile.
The group bombarded Bart with a dozen questions.
"Are you okay?"
"Who are these people?"
"Where's Circe?!"
"It's okay, guys," he replied. "I'm okay. Circe's still stuck in timespace somewhere. This is the Legion." He pointed with his thumb at the four teenagers standing behind Metron. "They're from my time. The 31st Century."
The tallest, a black-haired boy, stepped forward. "Rokk Krinn. Cosmic Boy."
"Garth Ranzz. Lightning Lad," said the energetic red-haired boy at Rokk's side.
A blonde girl smiled gently and nodded. "Imra Ardeen. Saturn Girl."
"Brainiac 5," said the last one, a green-skinned blonde boy.
"First," said Rokk, "I want to say what an honor it is to meet you all." Rokk turned to Clark. "Especially you, Kal."
Clark gave him a wary look. "How do you know that name?"
"...It's a long story," said Rokk. "But, secondly, we owe you all an apology."
"...Why?" asked Clark.
Brainiac 5 stepped forward. "We sent Bart back in time, hoping to save him from an overcharge of his powers."
"An overcharge?" Barry asked.
"Yes," Brainiac replied. "Bart is a third-generation speedster. His biology is a little different. His powers began to manifest when his body was still too young to handle them, and we needed to find a way to siphon the extra energy."
"We thought," said Rokk, "That using his powers to send him back through time would save him. It did, but... in doing so, we did irreparable harm to the time-space continuum."
"'Harm' is technically the wrong word," said Brainiac. "Things have changed."
"What do you mean 'changed?'" asked Diana.
"Events have now changed," Brainiac explained. "The entire world is now different than our history remembers it."
"How is that possible?" asked Bruce.
"It's incredibly complicated," Brainiac said, slightly annoyed. "We remember things differently because our time-travel technology—which we perfected two years after we sent Bart back in time—shielded us from the changes in the timeline."
"You keep talking about changes," said Clark. "What changes? What's different?"
"For one thing," Rokk said, "you were never supposed to meet while still in—what do you call it?"
"High school," said Imra.
"Right. You were never supposed to meet this early."
"...So then why have we met?" asked Clark.
"At times of great conflict," said Metron, his voice resonating with a slightly chilling tone, "warriors of good often rise to challenge evil. Their meeting is destined."
"...So what you're saying," said Diana, "is that we met earlier because we were supposed to defeat some sort of evil that's now come earlier in the timeline?"
Rokk nodded. "That's our thinking, yes."
"Could it have been Circe?" asked Zatanna. "Could it have been her that we were supposed to defeat?"
"It is indeed possible," said Metron.
"...The world from before," said Bruce, "how was it different?"
Metron's cold expression seemed to narrow slightly. "Are you sure you wish to know? The secrets of existence are not meant for those who wish to live in peace."
"Yes," Bruce answered.
Metron's chair hovered a bit higher, and the light behind him brightened and shifted while the rest of the light in the cabin darkened. A massive image of the Earth resolved, hovering in space. "This Earth is but one of many." The Earth slid to the side, revealing a line of identical Earths in a single line stretching backward into space. "Each Earth represents an entirely separate universe. It is a multiverse we live in, with countless variations between worlds." The line of Earths moved and spun until a single Earth sat in the center. "This," Metron explained, "is the primary Earth. The lone world upon which all others are mirrored from. It is the true ideal; the standard by which all other worlds are judged. Before the boy's venture through time, your world was virtually identical to this one in every respect."
Metron lifted his hand toward the youths. "Gaze now upon your true destinies."
The vortex of light burst forth, nearly blinding everyone in the Javelin. Clark, Bruce, Diana, Barry, Bart, Zatanna, and Hal each saw visions.
Diana saw herself—older, clad in red, gold, and blue, the lasso of truth hanging at her belt. She recognized the golden eagle on her armor and the shining tiara on her head: the garments of both Amazonian royalty and that of the true Ambassador of Peace.
Barry saw himself in red, running near the speed of light itself as the protector of Central City.
Bart saw much the same thing, but... different. He would not become the hero that his grandfather would, at least not until much later in life.
Zatanna saw herself much as she was now, but with a far greater grasp of her magics. She effortlessly cast spells of immense power, battling the great evils of sorcery.
Bruce saw darkness. He had become a dark knight wrapped in shadow, his every thought and action forged into a weapon against Gotham's criminal underworld. He would save the city night after night, but sacrifice his own livelihood in the process. He was alone.
Hal saw nothing clearly. Whatever lay before him was overpowered by a blinding green light.
Clark saw a vision of himself—older, taller, and clad in blue and red. He stood in the sky as a beacon of hope, a leader of many, and the world's greatest hero. And, ever-present at his side, stood Lois. She was the one who gave him hope; who loved him and accepted his love in return. She was his beloved, and though the world never knew it, it was her and Clark's love that had saved the world a thousand times over.
All seven of them then saw a single vision. Their future selves stood together with many others, standing watch over the planet, protecting it from evil time and time again.
Bart's eyes widened as he recognized the group:
The Justice League.
In an instant, the vision winked out of existence.
"This is what may come, if all goes well," said Metron. "But do not become complacent. The actions of many determine the destinies of all."
"Now," said Rokk, "it's time to go. Bart?"
Bart nodded, then turned to his friends. "Guys... I need to go."
"What do you mean 'go?'" asked Clark.
"Bart is basically a lightning rod for time-space distortions," Brainiac 5 explained. "We need to bring him back to his own time—our time—in order to figure out what to do about it, and to keep any more damage from being done to history."
"...You're leaving?" asked Diana.
Bart nodded, doing his best not to tear up. He walked to Diana, and hugged her. "Thanks," he said. "For... y'know, being there for me." Diana smiled sadly in return.
Bart pulled away from Diana, and nearly backed into Bruce, who had extended his hand. Bart, surprised, shook Bruce's hand. Bruce and Bart exchanged a solid look, the way that comrades-in-arms might.
Finally, Bart shared a quick man-hug with Clark before walking back to Metron and the Legionnaires.
"We'll be picking up Iris on the way, too," Imra explained. "Don't worry when she disappears."
"Will we ever see Bart again?" Clark asked.
Rokk smirked. "Maybe. If Brainy here can figure out how to do that safely, we'll make it happen."
Brainiac 5 rolled his eyes. "Please. Don't insult my 12th-level intelligence. Of course I can figure it out. It'll only take time."
"Speaking of which," said Rokk, looking at the chronometer on his wrist, "we need to go, now, while the rift is still open."
The Legionnaires stepped back towards the swirling light. Brainiac tapped a few keys on his wrist-mounted computer, and the light completely enveloped the time-travelers. Clark could barely make out Bart mouthing the word "bye" before he, Metron, and the Legion members all disappeared along with the time rift.
"Did she say 'Iris?'" asked Barry.
Everyone else remained awkwardly silent.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
The Daily Planet
Perry White looked over the mass of information laid across his desk. Photos, documents, notes, USB drives with audio recordings—all focused on Luthorcorp and its CEO, Lionel Luthor.
Ordinarily, even this mass of evidence wouldn't be enough to absolutely prove Luthor's guilt in any particular crime. But together with the new evidence linking Luthorcorp to the espionage on government property, it might yet prove to be more.
"See this?" said the teenage girl across from Perry, holding up her phone. "A friend of mine—the same one that figured out the tracker device was Luthor tech, by the way—also managed to tap into the sub-frequency that the trackers were running on. They broadcast a weak signal, but have barely-encrypted information that's not hard to tap into. Look at this."
Lois slid her phone across Perry's desk, and pointed at its screen. "This is a map of all the signals in Metropolis."
Perry looked at the map. Over a hundred tiny red dots were overlaid on it.
"These red dots represent the tracker devices?"
Lois nodded.
Perry accidentally tapped one of the dots on the phone's touch-screen with his finger. Audio began to play from the phone's speaker.
"...we should go straight to the press as soon as the police finish their investigation."
"Creepy, huh?" said Lois. "They've got microphones and everything."
"...My god," said Perry, his mouth agape. "There's one at the city court. And the mayor's office. And the police station."
"Yup. As well as in the main offices of all of Luthorcorps' local competitors, and all the major news outlets." Lois casually looked around the room. "There's one in here, too, somewhere."
Perry remained silent for a moment.
"...so he knows we're on to him."
Lois nodded.
Perry grinned. "Good."
Lois leaned in. "This is complete proof of Luthorcorp's corporate espionage; if they've had these things around for very long, it's probably how they managed to take over so much of Metropolis's economy so fast."
"...As well as how they managed to avoid getting nailed by the courts," Perry added, deep in thought.
"Exactly," said Lois. "It should be easy enough to prove that Luthorcorp acted with illegal foreknowledge of events."
"...And once the authorities arrest Luthor and inevitably do more digging, they'll follow the breadcrumbs to his criminal operation, as well."
"Hell to the yes." Lois gestured to the photos and files littering the desk. "And I've got a helluva lot of breadcrumbs here."
Perry leaned back in his chair and regarded Lois for a moment.
"Kid, how old are you?"
"Seventeen."
Perry shook his head in practical disbelief. "Seventeen. Do you know how old the average professional reporter is?"
"Older than me?"
"Heh. That's the biggest understatement I've heard all week. Let me break it to you this way, Lane. I have never hired anyone your age to do anything more than copy work or photography. Never."
Lois raised a challenging eyebrow. "You've never met anyone like me before."
Perry realized she was right, of course. But something else bothered him.
"Look, kid... I don't want you getting hurt. Luthor's already made you a target in the past—hell, he practically told you he'd kill you once—and if I print this story with your name, there's no telling what could happen to you."
"If it wasn't me with a target on my back, it'd be someone else. Besides, Luthor already knows that I'm the one who found him out; it's not like it'll save me just to have someone else slap their name on the ink."
Perry sighed. "Damn, kid, you really are fearless."
Lois grinned. "Always have been."
Perry let himself smile. "Well, you're still in school, so I can't hire you full time—no arguments! The best I can do is put you down for part-time, and let you write up this ONE STORY. Maybe a few side articles here and there. When you graduate, we'll see about getting you something full-time."
Lois felt an unending surge of joy flow from her toes to her head, but she did her best to push it down.
"Works for me."
"Alright then. Go write that article."
Lois slammed a file down on the desk.
"Already done, Chief."
Perry could see the title of the document peeking out from inside the file folder:
LIONEL LUTHOR: CRIMINAL MASTERMIND.
Ordinarily, even this mass of evidence wouldn't be enough to absolutely prove Luthor's guilt in any particular crime. But together with the new evidence linking Luthorcorp to the espionage on government property, it might yet prove to be more.
"See this?" said the teenage girl across from Perry, holding up her phone. "A friend of mine—the same one that figured out the tracker device was Luthor tech, by the way—also managed to tap into the sub-frequency that the trackers were running on. They broadcast a weak signal, but have barely-encrypted information that's not hard to tap into. Look at this."
Lois slid her phone across Perry's desk, and pointed at its screen. "This is a map of all the signals in Metropolis."
Perry looked at the map. Over a hundred tiny red dots were overlaid on it.
"These red dots represent the tracker devices?"
Lois nodded.
Perry accidentally tapped one of the dots on the phone's touch-screen with his finger. Audio began to play from the phone's speaker.
"...we should go straight to the press as soon as the police finish their investigation."
"Creepy, huh?" said Lois. "They've got microphones and everything."
"...My god," said Perry, his mouth agape. "There's one at the city court. And the mayor's office. And the police station."
"Yup. As well as in the main offices of all of Luthorcorps' local competitors, and all the major news outlets." Lois casually looked around the room. "There's one in here, too, somewhere."
Perry remained silent for a moment.
"...so he knows we're on to him."
Lois nodded.
Perry grinned. "Good."
Lois leaned in. "This is complete proof of Luthorcorp's corporate espionage; if they've had these things around for very long, it's probably how they managed to take over so much of Metropolis's economy so fast."
"...As well as how they managed to avoid getting nailed by the courts," Perry added, deep in thought.
"Exactly," said Lois. "It should be easy enough to prove that Luthorcorp acted with illegal foreknowledge of events."
"...And once the authorities arrest Luthor and inevitably do more digging, they'll follow the breadcrumbs to his criminal operation, as well."
"Hell to the yes." Lois gestured to the photos and files littering the desk. "And I've got a helluva lot of breadcrumbs here."
Perry leaned back in his chair and regarded Lois for a moment.
"Kid, how old are you?"
"Seventeen."
Perry shook his head in practical disbelief. "Seventeen. Do you know how old the average professional reporter is?"
"Older than me?"
"Heh. That's the biggest understatement I've heard all week. Let me break it to you this way, Lane. I have never hired anyone your age to do anything more than copy work or photography. Never."
Lois raised a challenging eyebrow. "You've never met anyone like me before."
Perry realized she was right, of course. But something else bothered him.
"Look, kid... I don't want you getting hurt. Luthor's already made you a target in the past—hell, he practically told you he'd kill you once—and if I print this story with your name, there's no telling what could happen to you."
"If it wasn't me with a target on my back, it'd be someone else. Besides, Luthor already knows that I'm the one who found him out; it's not like it'll save me just to have someone else slap their name on the ink."
Perry sighed. "Damn, kid, you really are fearless."
Lois grinned. "Always have been."
Perry let himself smile. "Well, you're still in school, so I can't hire you full time—no arguments! The best I can do is put you down for part-time, and let you write up this ONE STORY. Maybe a few side articles here and there. When you graduate, we'll see about getting you something full-time."
Lois felt an unending surge of joy flow from her toes to her head, but she did her best to push it down.
"Works for me."
"Alright then. Go write that article."
Lois slammed a file down on the desk.
"Already done, Chief."
Perry could see the title of the document peeking out from inside the file folder:
LIONEL LUTHOR: CRIMINAL MASTERMIND.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)