Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Fanfic Related Fanfic Quiz - Opening Lines II

George Thompson checked his watch for the fifth time in a
few minutes and let out an annoyed sigh. He'd always hated
waiting, and he thought he'd made that clear to Trask the
last time he'd seen him. The head of Bureau 39 was under
*his* command; technically, he was under him in the
hierarchy, at least according to the papers back in D.C.
Yet every time they met, Trask bossed him around as if he
didn't care at all about whatever orders Thompson or anyone
in Washington gave him.

The creation of Bureau 39 had looked like a good idea at
the time. He'd supported it so enthusiastically that
Everett, the head of the F.B.I., had placed him in charge
of the newborn secret department. Sometimes he wondered
what had gone through his head when he'd accepted the
assignment - it hadn't turned out to be as easy as he'd
expected, especially since Trask had arrived on the scene.
But the Secretary of the Interior had insisted that his
young protege be hired for the job, and no-one had found a
sufficiently good reason to contradict Lloyd Tempus's will.

Lois Lane stood out in front of the Lex Corp. Tower, her wedding dress was torn and stained from the frenetic activity of the past hour. She stared in horror as the body of Lex Luthor was loaded into the coroner's van to be whisked away to the morgue. She started to shake. Where was Clark? She needed Clark right here, right now. Perry tightened his arm around her shoulders.

Even though I've seen the first 40 or so pages and they're excellent!

Lois Lane relaxed in Centennial Park, reading a pile of stories written by fans of her favorite TV show. She read on and on, thoroughly absorbed in the pages. Reading was pleasantly addictive (though in a better way than a field of poppies), but Lois soon found herself tiring. Soon, despite the enthralling nature of the fanfic, Lois fell asleep.

She awoke to find herself being spun around by a tornado, the pages of fanfic flying around her. Just as she was wondering what a tornado was doing in Metropolis, the wind suddenly died down. She fell, landing atop a pile of printouts.

People amuse me. I guess they always have. Walking on two legs, no hair, huge noses (that don't smell very much, I've noticed), and no tail, what could be more humorous? OK, the lion cut Himalayan in 503 is pretty funny, but Himmies are known for brains, especially in my world. Give me a yellow tabby anytime. The one in 502, ohhh I can still remember the softness of her fur. Hard to believe that was so long ago.

"The Nightfall Asteroid is on a direct course for Earth. This piece of space rock is seventeen miles across, traveling at close to thirty thousand miles per hour. If nothing stops it, it will hit the Earth in a little more than four days." Professor Daitch, Chief Scientist at the EPRAD command and control center based in Metropolis, paused at the end of his announcement and added, almost under his breath, "The sky, literally, is falling."

"What kind of damage could this asteroid do?" The inquiry came from Phil Morrison of the Star.

Daitch took a deep breath. "It could knock the Earth off its axis, even throw us out of our current solar orbit. It's far larger than the meteor that caused the extinction of the dinosaurs. The crater alone will throw enough dust into the air to start a new ice age."

The dark streak appeared out of nowhere. It headed straight for
Metropolis. Anyone looking at the sky would have screamed in fear thinking
that a meteor was about to hit. But no one was looking. The streak headed
straight for downtown Metropolis and came to earth in an alleyway across
from the Daily Planet newspaper. There was no earth-shattering impact or
any other indication that anything unusual had taken place. Nothing except
for the young man who walked out of the alley a few seconds later. He
straightened his tie and looked at the hubbub on the city streets around
him. It was different than anywhere he had ever been -- and he had been to
Paris, London, Beijing, Tokyo and most other major and minor cities in the
world -- but somehow this one was different. He knew why and he sighed.

Yes. He sighed. A long, deep sigh. If only he knew how to find *her*.
She was the reason that he had come here, to Metropolis. He didn't even
know if she still lived here. It had been over ten years. Even if he
could find her, would she remember him? Probably not. Why would she? She
had been beautiful and she, no doubt, had many suitors in the last ten
years. She was probably married, maybe even with a child or two by now. He
ran his hand over his tie, a normal gesture to anyone else, but he was
really feeling for the small circle hidden there. He did it almost
unconsciously; he had been doing it for so long. The feel of it there
brought back the memories that he treasured.

Superman hovered briefly over the brownstone on Hyperion Avenue, then shot to a nearby roof, dropping to a sitting position and pulling his cape around him. Drawing his knees to his chest, he huddled with his back to the raging wind while he stared sightlessly at the rooftops below.

Something was wrong, terribly wrong, in Metropolis. It wasn't just that the city was suddenly more violent and chaotic than Clark had ever seen it, or that no one seemed to remember Superman, his every appearance engendering panic and hysteria. Or that far from being grateful for his assistance, the police and other residents of Metropolis were uncharacteristically hostile and surly.

No, the terrible wrongness in Metropolis, the wrongness that caused that tight knot in his stomach, stemmed from the fact that *strangers were living in the house at 348 Hyperion Avenue.*

It's tough finding a good place to hide -- especially one from where you can watch, plan, wait for an opportunity to strike. To make things right... to get even. Justice and revenge.

It's even harder when you don't have any resources, any contacts, money, a home. When you're not sure if you're being watched as you scramble in the chaos to escape a city ripped apart by corruption and civil war. The only contacts she'd had were also her partner's, and she wasn't sure if she could trust him not to betray her once again. Finally, long after he'd made his own comfortable departure, she too had got out.

"This is Clark's room," Martha told Lois, opening a door near the head
of the stairs. Lois followed her in and looked around.

"It looks like him," she said, surprising herself. The room had
obviously belonged to a boy, later a young man. On the dresser was a
picture of a much younger Clark, standing between his parents and
grinning at the camera. The walls were decorated with posters, pennants
and framed awards for both academic and athletic excellence. Several
trophies were arranged on a shelf situated on one wall, along with
several carefully assembled plastic models of planes and cars.

Martha chuckled. "We keep it like this. When he visits, he likes to
see it the way it was when he lived here." She stepped out into the
hall once more. "Just make yourself at home, Lois."

Sometimes things are not what they seem.

It wasn't until it was all over that Lois understood that this was so. Sometimes, the lie is the truth. And who you thought was there is not.