In the Clouds

Lois Lane: Part 8

Jimmy's pictures were the last drop. A red blur amidst Metropolis skyline isn't even worthy of the last page by the cartoons. It had been weeks since Superman was around and there was virtually no information about him, amateur photos from people at the premises being the main source.

How could something be the center of attention and remain unknown at the same time? It was about more than reporting. Something about it scared Lois. As a little girl she lived in many countries, moving wherever her father's military base was relocated to. Eventually she saw the pattern, the subtle tell of incoming change. Not once had it been good either.

But it could be. If transformation was not only imminent but close, the best approach is to welcome it, control it. By the time the General told his daughters where they were going Lois had been studying the local language for two weeks.

Admittedly, the reporter had no information on the hero either. She had no evidence to disprove the fear some had began to exhibit. Powers are new, but power discrepancy isn't. Lois learned how to read powerful people and Superman didn't once strike her as a threat. God, he was obviously the exact opposite. How anyone could look at the him in fear she did not know. She feared the unseen corrupt cops amidst the force or the selfish politicians hidden inside the Congress more than a flying man that had done nothing but repeatedly save people's lives.

Did she stand to gain the article of the century if she accomplished this? Yes. Her ego did not keep her from admitting where her own chips were in this game. But it truly was secondary. It's not often that she gets to write good headlines, and that should be preserved. Fought for and admired.

It was hopeful to write about something that demonstrated distilled good. Journalism is a preventive weapon. It's always too late to save anyone before they're hurt. But with Superman, maybe someone else would be there first, maybe they could walk hand in hand. Maybe she could help Superman.

That thought fermented in her mind at night and a part of her knew exactly where she was going. It was reckless, dangerous and inconsequential. Yet the more Lois plotted the more she noticed that's exactly why it had to be done. No one else would.

Moonlight seeped in through the half open window at three am as Lois sat down on her desk unable to sleep. She had to write the plan down before the sun so rudely interrupted. There was no time to lose.

Step one, be in danger. That's the easiest one. Although she didn't have enough data about the crimes Superman didn't manage to reach. Maybe getting rescued isn't unlike winning the lottery in the sense of baseless luck. If that was the case, she needed a fail safe, or at least the guarantee that danger would be temporary regardless of incoming rescue.

Organized crime was the safest bet. The kind that everyone knew about but could never properly get the head of the operation. They'd be violent enough to call for help and smart enough not to be seriously harm a public figure. Hopefully. Here's to wishing the mafia hires thugs with brain cells.

Step two was- well, quite frankly, out of her hands. And Step three was doing what no one else had accomplished so far. Getting Superman to talk.

 ...It looked like an even worse idea on paper. Somehow Lois managed to sleep that night after readying everything for the next day. Proper clothes, recorders, paper with questions she already knew by heart. Here goes nothing.

-

Going undercover was always exciting and terrifying, although today it leaned to the latter. Every single thing she had learned and been taught was ignored as she prepared to walk into the lions den. The blonde wig was a little cheaper, the other one she liked too much to lose on some make believe job. Blouse a little too tight so the wire wasn't properly obscured and some fake insecurity on her voice to attract suspicion. By the time she had reached the building, it wasn't that fake anymore. The last step was Plan C.

Plan A was getting rescued by Superman and getting the best interview of the decade. Plan B was rescuing herself and getting enough evidence for maybe a front page that would be relevant for a month or so. Plan C was sending in the cops to look for what was left of her. Let's avoid that one.


All the preparation needed now was to let someone know, someone who would not prevent plan A or B by not keeping a secret or trying to interfere. Someone who trusted her enough to listen but wouldn't be proactive enough to do more. Rookie perfectly fit the profile.

After texting Clark from a burner phone Lois walked into the building.

Comercial one, several floors full of legitimate businesses. Yet her informant had made it clear that if you said the right thing, you'd get acesses to the underground.

"Excuse me, I'm here about the Echo Bridge-." She looked down at a paper before correcting herself to the secretary. "Brigade. I mean Echo Brigade."

Getting the secret password wrong was probably a good beginning, but she was let in anyway, being spared a few glances before getting in the elevator. Her knuckles turned white at the strong grip she kept on the strap of her purse, wether that was part of the act or not it was hard to tell. As soon as the doors opened there were already two men waiting for her at the entrance, surely called by the woman upstairs.

"Name and business."

"I- " Was the stutter too much? "Mary. Mary Green. Amir Myers should be waiting for me."

Amir had been arrested the week before, wasn't yet available information to the public. The Planet is going to publish it tomorrow. That must have been the last thing to tip the two man off as one reached for his gun.

"Who sent you?!"

Lois was quick to raise her hands, the fact that this was part of the plan not really serving as much comfort.

 "I'm just a reporter! You can let me go and I won't say-"

 Nothing mobsters hate more than media they don't control. Not even clean cops can do as much damage. She didn't need to finish the sentence before having her arms pulled behind her back and redirected to somewhere inside the facility. When grabbing her by the hair the wig pulled out and she half expected some sort of recognition in the face of the men but received none as they restrained her arms behind her back.

Really? She had been on this company's case for months, uncovering frauds and receiving unpleasant emails for a while and their employees didn't even know her face? Was it odd that she took offense?

"Not a sound or I shoot." One of the burly man spoke up behind her, the cold barel pressing against her neck and forcing her to walk out of the building. Okay, so maybe that was worse than not being recognized. A conveniently placed warehouse was accessible by a back door of the private underground facility where a stained metal chair informed her she wouldn't be the first nor last to be held there. A grunt escaped her mouth as they pushed her down on it.

"Get comfortable. You'll be there for a while."

Her head hung low, mostly to keep herself from making any remarks in response, partly just to be left alone to think. She didn't exactly have much leverage to engage. The thud of the doors closing started a timer in Lois's mind as she looked around the room, forcing her hands against the binds to see what she was fighting against exactly. Her feet weren't bound, so the chair must be bolted to the floor. Leaning her body weight forward she managed to- get rope burn on her wrists. Not progresss. But if she could endure that for a little longer, maybe it would give. It would take some hours to start weakening the material with brute force but if no one came in she could-

A deafening sound came from outside the door, causing Lois to recoil back to the original position in fear the men were back. Instead of the earlier company she heard gunshots. Dozens of firearms ceaselessly firing, enough ammo for a small army. The indistinguishable yelling stopped at the same instant as the bullets, the sudden silence worrying her. The blue eyes were fixed on the door so avidly it hurt when light finally came in, as if the solid material disappeared from thin air.

It took a moment and a few heavy blinks for her eyes to identify the figure that approached, the fact that she planned for this not making it any less impactful. The light coming from the torn door perfectly framed his stature, the wind making his cape gently move as crouched to help her. The first thing that came to mind when she saw Superman is how thankful she was to see colors today.

The second however, was the instant relief of her hands being untied, making the reporter bring her wrists to her chest instinctively as her eyes fixed on the superhero.

Focus Lois. Before he leaves, there's work to be done.

"Superman I have a few-"

 The words barely left her lips as he sweeped her off the floor, arms immediately obeying the instructing and holding onto his neck. Not tight enough, apparently, as in the following moment they were racing the wind.

Lois would never shut up about what Metropolis looked like from above if she had actually seen it. Her eyes remained shut the entire time, face hiding on Superman's chest as she held on for dear life. Not to say she didn't trust him with her safety, that was obviously not the case. Yet this was less about trust and more about the fact that humans are not supposed to see above the clouds without any tools.

-

It was a short flight - although at that moment she didn't exactly have an accurate representation of time. Soon he let her down on a familiar rooftop, the feeling of the floor under her heels both soothing and disappointing. It took a few seconds after being physically grounded to metaphorically accomplish that too. That reckless and inconsequential plan had worked exactly as expected and she was not about to waste it being in shock.

"I'm alright, thanks to you." She spoke with a genuine smile, adjusting the sleeves of her blazer to cover the markings of the binding. It was a very active effort to invoke her professional self.

 "And that would be me. I'd say you covered the crash, I just reported it." She spoke up, the tone not matching how much her heart was still racing from the every aspect of the earlier experience.

"If you know who I am and you haven't flown off yet can I be presumptions and assume you'd be willing to talk? I know how valuable your time must be but you deserve to be heard - before someone else tries to speak for you."