Cat had her head down and focused on a new assignment when Clark and Lois came in Wednesday morning, so she was surprised when Lois leaned down and hugged her. Cat looked up to see her friend’s bright smile – a smile she’d rarely seen anywhere, much less in the newsroom – shining like the full moon. Lois rubbed Cat’s shoulder for a moment, then slowly walked to her desk and powered on her workstation, still smiling like an heiress with a new bequest.
That was not normal behavior for Lois, from the smile and the personal contact to the good mood. But it was a positive kind of change. Something really good must have happened at the meeting the night before. Maybe even a breakthrough of some kind.
That would be nice, thought Cat. Clark must be good for her in more ways than one.
“Hey, Lois,” Cat called softly, “was last night a good night for you?”
The smile was still there. “It was a great night. I talked a lot of things out at the meeting, and afterward Clark and I went back to my place and talked until I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up when he carried me to the bed and took my shoes off.”
Cat’s face fell. “You mean – you mean you and Clark – you – you were—”
Lois giggled. “No. I didn’t ‘get lucky,’ as you’ve said a few times. But it was still a good night.”
Before Cat could probe further, Jimmy charged over and said, “Perry wants to see all three of you right now. I think you’ve got a big story.”
Cat nodded to Jimmy, then whispered, “You owe me details, girlfriend.”
Lois just smiled wider.
Lois’ good mood didn’t last past the three of them being given that new assignment.
“Boxing?” Lois demanded.
“Why, sure, Lois,” Perry drawled. “The three of you can collaborate on the main story while Clark and Cat come up with some dynamite background material. Should be good for at least three sidebars apiece.”
“But – boxing? Why me? What did I do wrong?”
“Honey, you haven’t done anything wrong that I know about. It’s just – well, a good reporter needs to be able to write about anything.”
“This is sports, Perry, not hard news!”
“Ordinarily I’d agree with you, but this is different. It’s the boxing event of the century! Four different championship belts and one exhibition, all in one night! Never happened before. I want you three to get interviews with all the fighters and one with the promoter, Max Menken. Do what you do best! Dig deep and bring back the real story! Now git!”
Lois took a step toward the door, then turned back and glared at her boss. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with my connections, would it?”
Clark turned a puzzled expression to Cat and whispered, “Connections?”
Cat touched her lips with one index finger and whispered back, “I’ll fill you in later.”
The editor’s face cleared as if he were declining to answer on advice from his lawyer. “Connections, Lois? I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean ‘connections’ in reference to my father.” Lois’ voice turned hard as granite. “You know we don’t get along. And you know why, too.”
“Or we can let Lois explain them herself,” Cat muttered. She braced herself for the explosion she knew was coming.
Perry put his elbows on his desk, his own voice full of butter and honey. “I do. But I also know that the Daily Planet has a pipeline into this event that no other media outlet in the world has – you. With your name on this exclusive, we’ll double our circulation, maybe triple it. Our advertiser rates will go up. Might even be some money in the budget for raises.”
Cat stage-whispered to Clark, “I wouldn’t say no to that.”
She got a “look” back from him that she interpreted as “That’s not funny.” After a moment’s reflection, during which she decided she was thankful that Lois hadn’t heard her crack, she whispered, “Sorry.”
Lois took in a sharp breath, then leaned forward at the waist. “You’re not being fair!” Lois snarled at Perry.
Their boss’ voice hardened. “I’m not responsible for your perceptions. I’m responsible for helping the Daily Planet make money. My judgement tells me that this is the best opportunity we’ve had to make money since Superman showed up. Now if you can’t help me execute my job function—”
“That’s a low blow!”
“—then I’ll have to find someone else to take this assignment and give you the American Kennel Club review! This is your pick, Lois!”
No one in the office moved for a long moment. Then Lois inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. “Fine. I’ll do it.” She turned and gestured at the rest of the team. “I assume I’m also responsible for these two reprobates and what they produce?”
Perry hesitated for a moment as if weighing his response, then said, “Yes, as long as you tell me they’re pulling their weight on this one.”
“Done.” She turned and almost marched out of the office. “Come on, dead weight, let’s go.”
She led them to her desk, then growled. “I forgot, I need new batteries for my recorder. You two get your stuff and I’ll meet you at the elevator. Cat, don’t forget that the bathroom in Allie’s gym is pretty nasty.” She stalked off in search of her micro-electric prey.
Cat watched her enter the supply room, then tugged on Clark’s coat sleeve to turn him to face her and leaned in close. “You need to follow her lead on this, okay? Her dad is Dr. Sam Lane.”
Clark’s eyes almost clicked as he made the connection. “Sam Lane. The surgeon who works on injured athletes.”
“Yes, except he’s specializing in boxing now. Guys have average records, get hurt, have his surgery, and come out three times better than before.”
“And the problem between him and Lois is – what?”
Cat shook her head and put her hand on his upper arm. “I don’t have time to tell you all of it. Just don’t get between them, even if you think one of them needs a standing eight-count.”
“Got it.”
*****
Lois came out of the supply room ready to roll – then she saw Clark standing in Cat’s personal space. The thing that stabbed her heart was that it looked like Cat wanted him there. And she’d never brought her romantic life onto the news floor.
Until now.
It wasn’t as if Cat hadn’t warned her, either. She’d all but announced that she wanted an up-close – if not intimate – relationship with Clark. And despite his declaration that he wanted to date Lois instead of Cat, it looked like she was starting to wear him down.
She decided a bathroom break was in order after all. Hopefully Cat wouldn’t come in while she was there, not until she’d managed to rein in her emotions.
She also decided not to think about how hard her emotions were hitting her – and why she felt so bereft without Clark beside her.
Discipline. She’d learned discipline in the Army. Don’t let your emotions block you from doing your job. Complete your assignment.
No matter what.
*****
Cat led them to the parking area, where they took Lois’ Jeep to the gym. Cat let Lois lead the group into the ring area. Clark wore his usual conservative suit and ugly tie, Lois had on an almost mannish pantsuit, but Cat was wearing a stylish, attractive dress that drew the attention of all the fighters in the gym. She moved closer to Clark’s right and reached across her body to put her right hand on his firm right bicep. “You know,” she said quietly, “Lois might be used to this place, but I’m not. I don’t mind telling you that I feel like a haunch of raw antelope in the zoo’s lion exhibit.”
Instead of laughing at her or making a humorous crack of some kind, Clark put his left hand on her right and squeezed lightly. “Don’t worry, Cat. I’ll protect you if you need it.”
Cat heard more than just his words. They were gentle as velvet and hard as iron all at the same time. His touch was soft, yet firm, as if he were enveloping her in his protection. She could not have been more certain that as long as Clark stood beside her, she was completely safe, here or anywhere else. His promise to protect her wasn’t possessive or dominating, just reassuring. His hand on hers didn’t hurt her, but it did demonstrate his heroic determination.
His statement and his touch almost convinced her that she was right: Clark was indeed Superman. It wasn’t proof that she could take to Perry’s desk, but the majority of her doubts melted away at that moment. She’d never tell anyone she knew, of course, not even Lois. But it settled her heart to count him as a friend, even if he never chose to tell her his secret.
Or if he was ever anything more than a friend to her.
And that unsettled her heart yet again, just for a different reason.
She switched hands and reached into her purse for her recorder. Before she could flip it on, Lois barked, “Tommy Garrison!”
The fighter in the center ring with a sparring partner looked up at her and neglected to call time out. He took a right to the head and then a left to the jaw that sent him to one knee. His partner laughed and reached down to help him back up, saying, “Allie’s right, Tommy, dames is bad for a fighter!”
Then Garrison exploded.
By the time two other fighters had pulled him off the sparring partner, the man was face-down on the canvas, completely limp, and was bleeding from his nose and mouth. A balding man in a sweat suit who appeared to be in his fifties ran out of a small office in the back and yelled, “Stop it, Tommy! Save it for the ring!”
Garrison was infuriated, way too mad to say anything for the moment. Roid rage, thought Cat. The guy was ramped up on steroids like few men Cat had ever seen. It would certainly explain his upper-body strength, his overdeveloped muscle definition, and the unbanked fire in his eyes. Not to mention his out-of-proportion response to being teased.
He finally regained some control and screamed, “Gimme another one, Allie! I want another one!”
The man he’d addressed as Allie tried to calm him down. “Take it easy, Tommy. You don’t need to break your sparring partners. You’re supposed to be tuning yourself up, not using them up.”
“Then I’ll tune up with one of them!” He gestured at the trio of reporters. “I bet the redhead could give me a couple of good rounds!” He leaned over the top rope and leered at Cat. “Come on, sweetheart! Gimme some sugar!”
Cat stepped back, hoping her fear didn’t show. Clark surprised her – and yet didn’t surprise her – as he moved in front of her and crossed his arms. “You need to treat this lady like a lady, mister,” he growled.
Garrison pulled his arms away from Allie. “Yeah, right, like a lady,” he barked. Then his breathing settled down a little and he asked, “Where you clowns come from, anyway?”
“Daily Planet,” Clark replied. “We’re reporters.”
“Yeah, sure. You ever been in a ring before, pretty boy?”
“That’s not why we’re here. We want to interview you, not box you.”
“I don’t talk to reporters who never fought before. You got the guts to step up here?”
“Writing is my job, not punching.”
“Scared, huh? Tell you what – you get up here in the ring with me and show me what you got and I’ll talk to you.”
Cat glanced at Lois, who looked stunned by the challenge. Cat knew – or thought she knew – there was no way Clark could hit that man for real without putting him down on the canvas. Or, if Clark hit him hard enough, killing him. Clark in the ring? Wasn’t gonna happen.
But Clark astounded them all by taking the steps to the ring two at a time and sliding in through the ropes. “All right, tough guy,” he said, “here I am.”
Garrison’s face lit up like a traffic signal and he danced closer to Clark, taunting him. “You look pretty solid, Princess. Maybe you can fight after all.”
“I try to avoid fighting if I can.”
”Oh, yeah? Take this, pretty boy.” Garrison feinted with his left. “Oh, I just about tagged you then! Come on and face me.”
“Kent, get down here!” Lois called out.
Garrison wound up and pulled an uppercut past Clark’s face. “Felt the wind that time, didn’t you, Princess?”
“Tommy, cut it out!” Allie yelled. “He’s not a fighter!”
“He’s up here with me, ain’t he?”
“Clark, please don’t do this!” Cat insisted. “Come down from there!”
Another feint came, a left jab that Clark dodged with his open hands raised. “Almost got you, pretty boy! Come on, throw a punch!” Garrison grabbed Clark’s lapels and tried to shake him, but Clark snapped Garrison’s hands apart with his own and shoved the crazed fighter across the ring.
Garrison snarled incoherently and took an angry step toward Clark. Two other boxers grabbed Garrison’s arms and held him while Allie moved between the two men. “Cut it out, Tommy! You can’t hit him.”
“Watch me! I’ll punch him into next week!”
Another voice boomed across the ring. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you people insane?”
Allie leaned toward Lois and said, “Max Menken, my boss. He’s driving this crazy train.”
Before Lois could respond, Menken was in their midst. “No visitors, Dianello! You know the rules!”
Allie pointed at Lois. “She’s a reporter for the Daily Planet, Max. I figured it would—”
“Be good publicity, I know. But all press information goes out through me! I don’t care who she writes for!”
Allie leaned in closer to Max. “She’s Sam Lane’s older daughter.”
Menken’s eyes widened. “The medal winner?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that changes things.” Menken straightened his jacket and stood as tall as he could. “You should have told me who you were. Why don’t you and I come to my office so I can give you what you need for your article?”
Lois put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “First off, Mr. Menken, you didn’t give me a chance to tell you anything. Second, we don’t want a press kit, we want to interview the fighters.”
Menken shook his head. “Sorry, no interviews with the fighters until after the bouts. You’ll have to get your info from me.”
Cat saw that Lois was about three seconds from starting her own brawl, so she said, “In that case, Mr. Menken, what can you tell us about your fighters and their history? The state boxing commission almost refused to sanction these fights because your guys have fought so many times so close together. Garrison’s had, what, seven fights in the last fifteen months?”
“Eight bouts in seventeen months. And he won every one of them by knockout in the first round. The rest of my guys have comparable records. You can look them up in the state commission records. And they all passed their physicals before every fight. Everything’s public.”
“Including your training schedules and techniques?”
He frowned and shook his head. “No. That information is private. We’re not doing anything illegal, so publishing what you’re asking for would just give the next opponents an advantage over our guys.”
Clark rubbed his arm as if it were bruised. “So you’re saying that none of your guys are juiced up?”
Menken took a moment to light and puff on a particularly foul-smelling cigar. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. We don’t use any kind of steroids here. Not only does the state commission forbid it, those things would mess up the training regimen we use.”
Cat lifted her hand and waved it to thin out the smoke. “Speaking of which, what’s the big draw on Saturday other than all four championship belts being up for grabs? It’s big for boxing, but news-wise it’s a niche story. You talk like this is some one-of-a-kind everybody-should-be-fascinated-thing.”
“Oh, it is, little lady.” Cat forced herself not to bristle at the term. “Not only are all four belts up for grabs, the big winner will fight Superman – for charity, of course.”
Cat nearly choked at Menken’s statement. Nothing like this had been announced publicly. A quick glance at Clark told her that it was the first he’d heard of it, too. “So why haven’t we heard about this before?” she demanded. “You can’t believe that Superman is going to be a part of this!”
“Part of it?” Menken laughed. “Honey, he won’t be able to stay away. Think of it!” He waved his hands at an imaginary billboard. “The ultimate street fight! The most spectacular night of boxing there ever was! And the winners of each bout are gonna fight Superman one at a time! The eyes of the world, right here on Metropolis!” He glared at the three reporters. “Write about that!” Then he straightened, dropped his hands, and put on a gentlemanly demeanor. “Now, please excuse us, but the gym is off-limits to the press. Everybody back to work! ‘Cept you, Garrison. You hit the shower.” Then he pointed at Allie. “You shoulda known better.”
As Menken turned and stalked away, Allie tried to put a good face on the mini-confrontation. “I’m sorry, Pumpkin. You know, everybody’s a little nervous and there’s a lot riding on this event.” He turned to Cat and shook her hand gently. “I’m really sorry about what Tommy said to you, Miss. He’s usually a lot – nicer.”
Cat nodded. “I’m sure he is.”
Allie stared at her for a long moment, then turned to Clark. “You all right, kid? Garrison’s a pretty tough character.”
“I’m fine. He never laid a glove on me.”
Lois snapped, “Good thing, too, judging by what he did to his sparring partner.”
Allie rubbed the back of his neck. “I know, I know,” he muttered. “All I can say is that I’m sorry.”
Cat touched his arm with one hand and patted his shoulder with the other. “Hey, Mr. Dianello, you can’t be held responsible for anything anyone else does. We have to go now and write up a story our editor won’t beat us over the head with.”
Allie chuckled and relaxed slightly. “Okay. See you Saturday, Pumpkin?”
Lois give him a small smile and said, “Don’t make book on it, but we’ll see.”
Lois turned to go, but Cat called out, “Don’t leave without us, Pumpkin!”
Lois stopped, turned slowly, and fixed dark and threatening eyes on Cat. Then she turned again and stalked toward the door. Cat touched Clark’s sleeve to stop him and said, “Hang on a minute. When did you find out about Superman fighting the winner?”
“This is the first I’ve heard about it. It’s as much a surprise to me as it is to you. And I don’t even know for certain that it’s going to happen.”
She looked around and shook her head. “This is a pretty nasty place. And I don’t think there’s much Menken won’t do to make this fight night one for the history books.”
He frowned and took her hand in his. “I agree with you. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
Cat headed for the front door before Clark could take a step, tugging him along in her wake. She wanted to leave, to get out of this testosterone-drowned building, but she didn’t trust those other boxers enough to walk past them without an escort. Lois might have their respect, but she didn’t, and she knew it. But she did know that Clark would protect her no matter who or what came at them. It made her feel safe.
It also made her feel wistful and a little lonely. If only she’d known eight years ago what she now believed was true of Clark, it might have made all the difference in the world.
It would have made all the difference to her.
*****
Clark could feel Cat’s relief as soon as he escorted her through the door. He had thought she might be faking her tension to get close to him and hold his hand, but now he was sure she really had been apprehensive about being in the gym. Maybe it was all those strong men whose control might have been tenuous to start with, because having beautiful women like Cat Grant and Lois Lane in the building certainly broke up their workouts for the moment. Or maybe it was the knowledge that she didn’t have the tools to deflect their attention if it got too personal.
Which would explain Lois’ attitude and lack of fear. She’d been under live fire and returned it. She surely wasn’t acting like a man. And it was hard to intimidate a woman with actual combat experience under her belt.
Unless, of course, you counted the older, distinguished man she was talking with on the street.
They moved closer and Clark heard the man say, “What brings you here?”
“The ultimate street fight,” she answered coolly.
“Oh, uh, right, right,” he stammered back. “What else?”
Clark stepped past him to stand at Lois’ right side while Cat took up a position on Lois’ left. Lois glanced at each of them in turn and said, “I’m trying to get to the fighters. You know, for the paper.”
The man looked at Clark, who said, “Clark Kent, sir. I’m her partner. On this story, that is.”
The man shook his hand, then turned to Cat, who said, “Hi, I’m Catharine Grant, chopped liver and tuna sandwich.”
“Sorry, Dad,” said Lois, “I should have introduced everybody. Cat Grant, Clark Kent, Dr. Sam Lane. We’re the lead investigative team for the Daily Planet.”
“It’s good to meet you, Clark, Cat. I wish I could help you with the press, but it’s not my department.”
“Sure, Dad, we know that.”
“And the fighters, of course, well, they’re a little jumpy, what with the big night so close.”
“Sure, yeah, everybody wants to keep them away from us wicked reporters.”
Lois’ dad fake-laughed with her, then hesitantly asked, “Lois, are you by any chance going to have some free time soon? I’d love to have dinner with you.”
“Ah – maybe. Soon. I’m really busy – we’re really busy, and—”
“Sure,” he said. “Well, when you get out from under—”
“Sure! Call me.”
She spun on her heel and stalked off to find a taxi. Cat gave Sam a sympathetic look and followed. Clark offered his hand again and said, “Good to meet you, Dr. Lane. I’m sure we’ll see you again soon.”
Sam took Clark’s hand and held it. “I don’t know what your relationship is with my daughter, Clark, but I’d take it as a personal favor if you’d watch over her as best you can.”
Clark looked into the other man’s eyes and saw fear. “I will do that, sir.”
*****
Lex stiffened in his high-backed chair and held the phone closer to his head. “I see. No, I didn’t realize they were that close. Yes, it’s a problem, which is why I suggested a press blackout in the first place.”
He drew his hand back and threw a dart. “Max, calm down. Oh? Well, let me paint you a little verbal portrait. Imagine a man whose net worth is in excess of twenty billion dollars, and that this same man is currently the third richest man on the planet. The planet Earth, Max. He is superseded only by Mr. Albert Chou of Hong Kong and Elena Pappas of Athens, Greece.”
Another dart struck its target a few centimeters from the previous toss. “And when I say ‘currently,’ I really mean temporarily. Imagine further that this same man has an additional annual income of over two billion dollars, which is approximately two hundred million per month, seven million per day, three hundred thousand per hour, five thousand a minute. How long have we been talking, Max?”
A third dart landed between the first two. “That man is me. I hope you see my point.”
He listened for a few seconds, then slumped a bit and said, “You don’t see my point. Why am I not surprised?”
He picked up the fourth dart and took a breath. “Well, then, let me explain it to you, Max. If a man like you has a problem, I expect you to solve it with your own customary flair. For a man like me, on the other hand, life is a bowl of rubies – an extremely large bowl. I have no problems.”
He clicked off the phone and set it on the end table beside his chair, then buried the fourth dart in the target between the first and third throws – the “S” insignia on Superman’s chest. He stood to retrieve them and said to the air, “No problems at all.”
“Oh, you might have one or two. Problems, that is.”
Superman’s voice, seemingly issuing from the ether, startled him badly. It took him the four steps from the Superman cutout to the end table to recover. “My goodness. I really must help you find a cell phone. I’m willing to pay the bill, assuming that you will cease to enter my home or office without announcing your arrival.”
The blue-clad hero floated down from the ceiling. “I guess I’ll have to look into getting one. I’m sure the Superman Foundation would be willing to foot the bill. It would give them a way to contact me in case of emergency.”
“You could also call my secretary for an appointment instead of repeatedly trying to frighten me half to death.”
“Aw, now, Lex, where’s the fun in that? If I don’t show up out of the blue, as it were, I don’t get to see you practicing your dart game.”
Lex turned and looked at the cutout. “Er, yes, I’m – uh – somewhat embarrassed for you to see that.”
“Why? It just confirms to me the opinion you have of me.” He gestured at the darts in Lex’ hand. “May I give it a try?”
Lex considered the question for a moment, but saw no valid reason to refuse the blue pest this odd request. “I suppose so. Ah, you don’t plan to throw them through the wall, do you? Such a repair would be rather expensive.”
“The wall? Of course not.” At machine-gun speed, Superman turned and fired the darts at the cutout’s face.
Lex walked to the target and examined it. There was a dart in each nostril and one in each eye, directly in the pupil. He grasped one and tried to pull it out.
It wouldn’t come. It was stuck fast.
Lex looked again and saw that the point of each dart was buried in the wooden backing of the target. It would take a pair of pliers to free them from their cellulose prison.
Or some super-help.
“Problem, Lex?”
Lex turned to see the innocent hero face Superman sometimes wore when he knew something you were trying to hide. “Perhaps a small one.” He gestured at the darts. “Would you mind assisting me with it?”
“Of course not.” Superman slowly extracted the first dart so that it squealed sharply as it came out of the wood. After the second removal – equally loud and high-pitched – he asked, “By the way, Lex, you don’t really have a bowl of rubies, do you?” Another dart enthusiastically protested its removal from the target. “Because if you did, I would chide you over using the money they represent for something so frivolous and egocentric instead of doing real charitable work with it.” The last dart produced a particularly irritating high-pitched squeak, not unlike someone dismembering a live chipmunk.
The Man of Steel gently laid the darts in Lex’ palm. Lex sighed and said, “No, I do not have a literal bowl of rubies beside my bed or my chair or just sitting on a table. I was using the mental picture to illustrate something to one of my associates.”
Superman mimed wiping sweat from his forehead. “Whew. That’s a load off my mind. Well, unless there’s something else I can do for you, I need to be going. Those kittens won’t save themselves, you know.” He lifted toward the skylight through which he’d entered. “See you later.”
You shall indeed, thought Lex. You shall indeed.
*****
Superman flew south as he gained altitude. He tried to vary his direction of departure when he flew away from Luthor’s presence because he didn’t trust the man not to track him. He wished he’d heard the entire phone conversation, because Lex’ words to Max about solving problems with his “customary flair” bothered him. Luthor was probably involved in the fights, and if half of what they suspected was true, it was not a good thing. Too bad that what little he’d heard did not constitute evidence against Luthor.
Although the bit with the darts was funny. Superman grinned as he recalled Lex trying to pull that dart out. And the screeching noise they made coming out was a bonus funny.
It was a small win, but a win nonetheless. He only hoped it wasn’t a meaningless win.
