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It's Tempora Mutantur by basaki

I look at Kent, the model of mid-western blandness. His face usually seems to wear either a smile that hints that he knows a secret none of the rest of us know, or an expression of firm determination to accomplish something he deems important.

Except for now.

Right now, he looks almost predatory.

Clark Kent is seated in the front row, almost directly in my line of sight. I wonder for a moment how he arranged that, then dismiss the thought as unimportant. I glance around him to find his wife – the woman who should have been Mrs. Lex Luthor – but I don’t see her. Perhaps she couldn’t get credentials, perhaps the state wouldn’t allow more than one representative of the Daily Planet, or – and I flatter myself, of course – she couldn’t bear to see me die, to lose me forever.

Warden Castle is droning on about justice or some such drivel. Justice! Were there any real justice in this world, I would be ruling it. All the people, not just those of Metropolis, would have to look up to see me. As I boasted to Kent and the woman whom I still love on the night I met them, I deserve to be the highest—

Wait a moment.

On the night of his first appearance – the night he issued his challenge to me – Superman told me that if I wanted to see him to look up. And as I think back on it now, he was all but throwing my own words back into my face. How could he know what I said—

No. That is impossible. There must be another explanation.

Of course. Lois must have told him. She had to have bragged on me to him during that flight from the EPRAD shuttle launch to the Daily Planet and told him what I said. He must have taken it personally, the over-muscled micro-brained alien.

I look at Kent, the model of mid-western blandness. His face usually seems to wear either a smile that hints that he knows a secret none of the rest of us know, or an expression of firm determination to accomplish something he deems important.

Except for now.

Right now, he looks almost predatory.

He must be anticipating my demise and my permanent absence from his wife’s life. He still fears that she will come to her senses, terminate her relationship with him, and return to my side where she belongs. And it is well that he does worry, for I have no doubt that, given sufficient time, Lois Lane would one day be Lois Lane Luthor. This is Clark Kent’s fear, his nemesis, his nightmare, and I deeply regret that it will end in a few moments.

So why is he staring at me with such intensity?

The speaker inside my chamber draws my attention. Castle has just informed the small group that I have no last words to share, as if I would grant them the satisfaction of hearing them. He also says that all legal appeals have been exhausted, and that despite multiple protests from anti-capital punishment groups, the execution will proceed as planned.

Then he turns to me and stares at me through the window. “May God have mercy on your soul, Alexander Luthor,” he intones.

Needed the hint, but it's End of an Era by Terry Leatherwood

He set down the bag between them. “Listening to people. Investigating. Getting to the heart of a problem. Finding solutions. Informing the public of impending dangers. Helping people,” he went on. “You know, being a journalist.”

“That’s what you do best?” she probed in a teasing tone, so he wouldn’t know how dead serious she was.

“It’s what we do best,” he corrected.

He set down the bag between them. “Listening to people. Investigating. Getting to the heart of a problem. Finding solutions. Informing the public of impending dangers. Helping people,” he went on. “You know, being a journalist.”

“That’s what you do best?” she probed in a teasing tone, so he wouldn’t know how dead serious she was.

“It’s what we do best,” he corrected.

Smart man.

She decided to play devil’s advocate as she took another chip. “And politicians don’t do any of that stuff?”

He pulled out two sodas from his bag and passed one over to her. “Sometimes.” He granted politicians that much, which was more than Lois was willing to do. “But I feel that other things get in the way.”

Lois took a sip of her soda. “You mean like rules.”

“I follow the rules, Lois. You’re the one who breaks them.”

Touché.

She shrugged, admitting nothing.

Setting down his soda, Clark shifted in his seat so that he was facing her directly. He lifted his hands so that they were parallel between them, and then bent his fingers towards the other hand at a ninety-degree angle. “Politicians have to work within strict confines…” The Law. “And I like our freedom to be able to work outside of that.”

She smiled. “In other words, you like working outside the box.”

His eyes twinkled in the darkness as he smiled. She had never noticed what a striking shade of brown they were; almost the same color as freshly toiled earth.

“Exactly.” He chuckled. “You’d be surprised at how claustrophobic I can be.”

Lois set down her soda and picked up the bag of chips.

She was glad to hear that Clark wasn’t another slimeball after all.

“How about you?” he asked, pulling out another bag of chips. “Politics in your future?”

Lois laughed. “Nah! Too many meetings.”

Plus, she didn’t want anyone digging around in her past.

Maybe they both were good at shoveling manure. Her more metaphorically than him.

"And then something happened that could only be magic. Maybe it was Mxyzptlk or Baron Sunday's doing, I don't know. But he started to grow big -- really, really big. And he changed shape. He turned into a huge building that blended in with his surroundings. His flunkies transported the artwork into the building. As soon as the lackeys left, I went in to explore. Then the walls started closing in and I blacked out. I woke up about an hour ago and saw the walls expanding. I raced out of the building to find that I wasn't in Metropolis anymore. It was a good thing I did, too, since just as I left, I saw the henchmen approach the building. I hid and watched as they took the artwork outside. Then I left to figure out where I was. I found a money changer so I could call you from a pay phone."

Clark sighed and repeated, "Thank God you're all right." Then the implications of what she said dawned on him. "So, you're telling me that Nestor was able to smuggle the stolen goods out of country because he is …"

"That's right. He's a werehouse."

Moving on to Quote #20 Will give the answer on Friday if no one guesses #19 by then.

“Huh? How can anything be both alive and dead at the same time? And don’t you dare say a word about zombies!”

Clark laughed. “The quantum physics behind it isn’t the point. The point is that if someone were afraid the cat might die, they might never open the box. By keeping the box closed, the cat would remain alive, after a fashion. But it would never get a chance to enjoy a full life. And eventually, the air would run out. If someone were afraid a relationship might die, they might choose never to give it a chance, either.

“Now do you see why I want to call the cat, ‘Schrödinger’? Lois, he’s very much alive, and it’s because of you. You opened your heart to him and because of that, he will stay alive.

“Lois, I don’t know what the future holds; no one does, not even Superman. But one thing I can promise you – if you keep your door open, you won’t lose me. Whatever else we may or may not be to each other, I will always be your friend.”

How could Clark know her better than she knew herself? How could he put into words so clearly exactly what she was feeling, but could not, herself, articulate?

Before she knew it, she was in his arms, happily ignoring Schrödinger’s mews for attention.

The Naming of Cats by Lynn S.M.

My very name should be branded across the universe!

My very name should be branded across the universe!

You see, Superman thinks of himself as untouchable. Above the laws of life and death. A god. I knew it would never cross his mind that a "mere mortal" like myself could ever take him down.

Clark asked me to marry him.

He loves me, and I love him too. More than I ever thought- ever dreamed- possible. But is that enough?

If Clark wasn’t Superman, this decision would be easy.

Funny how things change. Two years ago, a year ago even, I would have said that Superman was the prize. Now Superman is the wedge that may keep Clark and I apart.