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

Clark allowed his body to roll over several times as he hit the ground after being thrown from the car. He remained inert for a second or two until he was positive that the gangsters' car had gone, and then launched himself into the air.

He had no clear idea about where he should go. He drifted above the clouds and reflected on the intractable situation in which he now found himself. There seemed to be no way around it. Clark Kent was dead. Permanently, irretrievably, irrevocably dead. There seemed to him to be no plausible means of resurrecting himself without giving away the secret of his identity.

"Damn, damn, DAMN!" he yelled, safe in the knowledge that he would be audible to nothing except a few passing birds. *How* had he failed to see this coming? He had known, when Lois had suggested conning their way into the gambling den, that it would be dangerous. He was also well aware of the reputations of Clyde, Capone and the others. In the 1920s, no crime had been too extreme for them. Murder was, for them, an everyday activity. But he had assumed that his super-powers would be sufficient to protect Lois and himself.

Trask removed his sidearm from its holster, holding it up
as he paced around Clark's crumpled form. Exhausted from
the effort of destroying the Kryptonite, Clark lacked the
strength to defend himself.

"Now, let's see. Who should go first? You, or the human
traitors who have sheltered you all these years?" Trask
smirked down at his victim before turning toward the shed.

Suddenly his weakened state became immaterial. No force on
earth would keep him pinned to the ground while Trask
threatened his parents. Summoning up the strength
possessed by all creatures when facing certain death at the
hands of a merciless predator, Clark lunged at the man,
preparing for the impact of the metal slug that would no
doubt come speeding out of the barrel of Trask's handgun.
Instead, the only contact he felt was his own body
colliding with Trask's. The older man was sent tumbling to
the ground, but Clark was still in far worse shape.

Lois perched on the edge of her sofa, staring blankly at the video cassette sitting in the dead center of her coffee table. It looked harmless enough, yet she was terrified to touch it. Just gathering the strength to remove it from the box that Perry had thrust into her reluctant hands nearly two weeks ago had drained her. Now, feeling as leaden inside as the gray sweatshirt she'd not bothered to change in three days, she sighed. Making the decision to collect it from the box was one thing. Actually going through with viewing it was another.

An attractive blonde walked through the doors and onto the steps outside the Metropolis Insane Asylum. Stopping momentarily, she pushed her hair back over her shoulders and let the wind play with it as the words of the old spiritual ran through her mind.

'Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last.'

It had actually been a brilliant plan. A small demonstration, by accident of course, was all it took to convince the jury that working with the substance day after day had made her not guilty by reason of temporary insanity. The fact that no one had been permanently injured had undoubtedly gone a long way to help - not to mention her shameless flirting with juror number four.

Still, it was all behind her now. She had been pronounced healthy and released. And she had used her time inside well. She was sure that a little tinkering was all it would take to change her compound, making it suitable for her new purposes. Lex would certainly have to love her after this.

Valentine's Day. One of the crassest celebrations ever invented, Lois thought savagely as she fought her way through what seemed like armies of dedicated purveyors of romance at the mall. As if it wasn't enough that every single shop in the place had windows full of huge red hearts and pink bows and cute teddy-bears, casual traders were everywhere with their stalls and carts, huge helium balloons floating above them.

Lois hated Valentine's Day even more than she hated Christmas. It was just so crassly consumerist, she had decided in her teenage years. Simply another excuse for Hallmark and other such companies to make a fortune - and as for the florists who doubled the price of their flowers and tripled the price of red roses, they were simply opportunist rip-off merchants. In her first year at the Planet, she had written a piece for the Saturday supplement on the fourteenth of February as a cynical marketing device - heck, they even had *kids* sending each other Valentine cards these days!

<Ah, but your dislike of Valentine's Day wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you were never the one with lots of cards on the day when you were at school, would it?> the annoying voice of her conscience pointed out. She grimaced. She hadn't *wanted* them anyway - it was a stupid idea. But every year, reliable as clockwork, all the girls in her class would come into school boasting about how many they'd received and speculating on the identity of the senders... and even Lucy's count had extended into double figures by the time she was fifteen.

But she'd been at school then; somehow it seemed to her that adults should be more sensible, less prone to such childish stunts. And yet at work that day Cat had sidled up to her, a smug expression on her face as she'd smiled at Lois.

"So, Lois, doing anything special tomorrow?"

It had been raining for hours now. Lois absently watched big raindrops
forming into long, asymmetrical lines that searched their way on the cool
glass, meeting and crossing other lines, then finally being stopped in
their tracks by the white frame of the huge windows and dropping down on
the window-sill outside. There the rain had already built a little puddle
and it was no wonder, because it had been raining constantly since Lois had
landed in London this morning. She grimaced. The weather here really was
just as bad as its reputation.

She sighed and looked around in her room. Perry had been generous with her
budget this time. The hotel was one of the best she had ever stayed in. She
had a big, well lit room with tasteful furniture and a huge white bathroom
with a whirlpool inside. She sent a longing glance to the kingsized bed in
the middle of her room. The long flight had been tiring and the thought of
taking a nap after soaking in a hot bubble bath was all too tempting. But
she knew from experience that the time difference was much easier to bear
if you tried to accept the other country's hours as soon as possible. The
bed and the whirlpool would just have to wait a little while longer. What
was she going to do instead? Okay, she could take another look at her notes
about Simon, her contact here in London, but to be honest, she didn't
really feel like it right now. She already could recite her notes in her
dreams, so well did she know them after all the preparations she had done
these last weeks.

Suddenly she felt her stomach contract slightly in excitement, as she
thought about the reason why she was here. Nothing could go wrong and Lois
was determined to make this investigation a success. Anyway, she wasn't
going to meet Simon before tomorrow evening and she didn't need to get
nervous in advance. The weather was of course horrible, but suddenly she
felt the urge to go outside. Otherwise she knew she would give into
temptation and go to sleep after all. Maybe there was a nice, warm and dry
place somewhere in the neighborhood, in a cafÈ or in a tearoom, where she
would be able to get something hot to drink and where she could take in the
atmosphere of the city a little bit. Without any more hesitation she took
her purse and slid into her coat.

A single light was burning in Clark Kent's apartment. In
the muted glow, in the middle of the living room, Lois Lane
was standing gazing at the object she'd just discovered,
her jaw slowly dropping.

After a long moment she sat down abruptly on the couch and
swallowed hard. "I just can't believe it!" she muttered.

Her voice rose steadily as her soliloquy continued. "How
*could* he? He always seemed so caring - so trustworthy!
Yet he's been keeping *this* hidden all along?" By this
time she had risen to her feet again, a militant light in
her eyes. "Boy, when I get hold of him, is he *ever* gonna
regret this...!"

Lois Lane pushed herself closer to the dirty brick wall of some nameless alley as she crouched behind the rusty dumpster in a less than delightful part of Hobbs Bay. She winced in pain as she jostled her left shoulder against the cold steel of the trash bin. She glanced down at her offending appendage. Even in the dark, murky shadow cast by her hiding place she could see the dark wetness leaking from her shoulder. She could tell from the pain every time she moved, even a little, that the bullet was still in there. Damn, she hated getting shot!

Clark licked his lips as he stepped up to the doors of the post
office. He hadn't had his mom's cooking for more then three weeks and
was looking forward to the prospect tonight. While traveling, Clark
always tried to call before going home. He maintained he was calling
to ensure that he wouldn't show up when his folks had company and
part of him really believed that, but when he was brutally honest
with himself, Clark knew his mom went all out with her cooking when
she had advance notice that he was coming home for supper. So here he
was at the post office in Eilat, Israel, planning to make a phone
call that was guaranteed to give him a good home-cooked meal.

He pulled open the door and stepped inside. There were about a dozen
phones, but only one was currently being used. He ignored the dark
haired woman with her back to him and stepped up to one of the free
phones.

He had just picked up a phone when he heard the woman mutter, "What's
wrong with this stupid phone?"

Clark glanced over and saw the woman fumbling with various coins,
attempting to use one after another in an effort to place a call. He
fished in his pocket for a moment before stepping up beside her.

"I think you need these," Clark said. He held an open hand towards
the woman, revealing a half dozen or so circular tokens with holes in
the middle.

The woman pushed her hair over one shoulder, turning slightly towards
him. She studied the contents of his hand as he continued to explain.

"These are telephone tokens. Money doesn't work in these phones."

"So where do I get one of those?" the woman asked, finally looking
him in the eyes.

Clark swallowed hard. He was suddenly, inexplicably, at a loss for
words. In front of him was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
There was something about her eyes. He couldn't seem to pull himself
away. She cocked her head to the side when he failed to answer,
studying him. He suddenly realized he was staring and felt a blush
begin creeping up his neck. Fortunately, most of it was hidden behind
the soft beard that covered his face. He quickly diverted his eyes,
and cleared his throat. Now that he was no longer looking at her, he
found that speech came back to him - albeit, only marginally.

"Climbing to ten thousand, levelling off at zero, seven, zero, mark
three," the pilot said into his headphones. Lois and Clark were
seated near the rear of the small plane, which was devoid of the
standard passenger accommodations. Trask and his men were for the
most part busy with their plans, leaving the two alone. Lois had
spent some time wondering just why Trask hoped Superman would come to
save the two reporters, and didn't like any of the possibilities she
had come up with. At length her mind had drifted in other
directions, and the grimness of their situation had begun to weigh
rather heavily on her.

"It's a romance novel," she suddenly told Clark morosely, staring off
into nothingness.

A tall man in a dark overcoat stepped out of the darkness and produced a lead-lined box from his pocket, from which he retrieved a syringe full of a gleaming green liquid. The shadow of a sly grin passed across his face. The Boss would be happy, *very* happy. He'd heard the worry hidden behind his threats over the phone, but making sure that this young homeless man couldn't talk about what he now knew would ensure them some tranquillity. Of course the incriminating computer disk that the company's vice-president had created was still out God knew where, but tracing it back shouldn't be too much of a problem. But that would come later. For now, what was important was to make sure that none of the information contained in it was spread, and the best way to do that was to get rid of any witness who could become a real nuisance.