Hi Everyone
It’s been a while since I was on the active side of fic-posting, so I hope I haven’t forgotten how it’s done
It’s not a Ficathon-fic, but the missing prefix probably already clued you in on that. In fact, it’s been in the process of getting written for far longer than I care to admit. All I’m saying is the plot-bunny was already happily hopping around my muse before Terry posted his Cold Shoulder, and I couldn’t keep a huge grin off my face once I saw what Iolanthe was working on for the Ficathon.
Kudos to Kmar, Mona, and Mellie for helping me put this one together
I hope you all enjoy
Michael
Disclaimer: The recognizable characters and settings in this story are the property of D.C. Comics, Warner Bros., December 3rd Productions, and anyone else with a legal right to them, and I have no claim on them whatsoever, nor am I profiting by their use. It’s just the original stuff, that would be mine, written down to bring some entertainment to other FoLCs.
This story is an alternate ending for Neverending Battle. The setup is therefore based on the script by Dan Levine.
Blocks in < > are literal thoughts by the character.
Rating: PG
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Looking for Superman’s spaceship and finding a Godzilla doll instead shouldn’t make Lois happy. So why is she wearing a smile on her face when she returns to the Daily Planet? Read and find out in this alternate ending to Neverending Battle!
Part 1 /
TOC /
Comments **********
Clark was pretty satisfied with himself. Not only was Superman back in the skies, but he had also managed to avert a simple – but most certainly fatal – accident when he had rescued that little girl earlier in the day. He had even gotten an above-the-fold headline out of it, and the fact that it was one of those feel-good stories that he enjoyed doing the most certainly hadn’t hurt either. The only blemish on it all was that it was all thanks to Lois Lane, or more precisely, the fact that he had sent her on a wild-goose chase through Metropolis’ smelly underbelly.
“Good work, Kent.” His boss’ praising voice brought Clark back to the here and now, namely his desk in the Daily Planet’s newsroom, where he stood surrounded by the Chief, Jimmy, and Ms. Grant – he still refused to think of her as ‘Cat’.
“Thank you, sir. Just in the right place at the right time, I guess,” he responded, accepting the praise but unwilling to bask in it. After all, how could he, when he had just done something his mother would box his ears for if she ever found out? Sure, Lois had been a first-rate… itch during the entire episode, but in the end she had shown him that she still cared. <At least for Superman,> Clark’s inner voice added with a sour tone. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t all that worked up over his colleague trotting through the dirt.
“That’s what being a good reporter is all about,” Mr. White continued before giving him an appreciative pat and a nod to keep up the good work.
“Thank you, sir,” Clark responded again. He really needed to come up with a better comeback if he intended to keeping up the good work; otherwise, this would start sounding repetitive pretty soon. And a repetitive reporter was the last thing his boss needed, or wanted.
The ephemerality of the editor’s goodwill was promptly displayed when the older man focused his attention on Jimmy. “Where the hell is my fish?” he barked.
“I’m working on it,” the office gopher replied evasively even as their boss walked away, already on the lookout for someone else slacking off. Jimmy, too, immediately turned his attention back on subjects more interesting than his latest chore, and apparently the article on Superman’s return to the skies was it. “‘Let there be no mistake. Metropolis is my home now. I'm here to stay,’” Jimmy quoted Clark’s words. “That should make life pretty interesting.”
Clark tried his best to provide his colleagues with a noncommittal nod, one that said, ‘I’m a reporter; I like interesting stories,’ instead of ‘I’m Superman; I know it’s going to be interesting.’
“Yeah, but where’s the story behind the story?” the Planet’s gossip columnist chimed in as she leaned on the partitioning on the side of his desk. “Where’s the… juicy stuff?”
Clark thought he could see her eyes light up, and if the impression he had gotten from her was accurate, her definition of ‘juicy stuff’ was not something printable in a newspaper. At least, no newspaper sold outside of an adult book store. Then his attention got sidetracked by the elevator’s chime and his wayward colleague’s return to their place of work.
“Where’s the dirt?” the Planet’s dirt digger continued to present her thoughts on what constituted a good story.
Clark warred for a second with his conscience before he succumbed to the temptation and pointed out to his two co-workers the return of Lois Lane. “I think that’s coming in right now.”
Jimmy and Ms. Grant both turned their heads to follow the direction of his outstretched finger, their eyes bugging as they took in the disheveled appearance of the Planet’s star reporter. Her formerly cream and beige ensemble sported numerous darker spots, and the foul odor crawling into his nose gave him a good indication of their origin. Her nylons had more runs than Clark could count – and he really did try to – and just when his wandering eyes found her feet, he saw that both her shoes were missing their heels, explaining why she appeared to be shorter than usual.
Jimmy’s question about what had happened brought his eyes back up to her face before they got distracted again by Lois’ left hand, presently involved in scratching a red spot where her blouse didn’t cover her neckline.
“Nothing,” she responded smugly. “Nothing at all.” Then his colleague turned to face them fully, and Clark froze at the sparkle in her eyes. “I just didn’t have time to go home and change,” she continued while she scratched the back of her head with her right hand. “After all, what’s a bit of mud and a couple dozen mosquito bites when I have a story to write?” She afforded the stunned trio a blazing smile and started to move towards her own desk. “Oh, and Jimmy–” Lois turned back around and dug through the pocket of her blazer.
“Yeah…?”
She pulled a black film container out and held it in the younger man’s face. “Develop those pictures for me, would you?”
***** Several hours earlier *****
A piercing shriek echoed through the catacombs of the Metropolis sewer system before it was superseded by the verbal equivalent of the foul stench that permeated the air. Swearing sailors had nothing on Lois Lane’s vocabulary, especially while she was lying face-down in the dirt.
“Those pumps cost me 80 bucks…,” Lois muttered as she was slowly picking herself up, the torn-off heel in her right hand. “What did I do to deserve this?” She gave the leather-covered piece of wood a contemptuous glare before she sent it flying into the muddy flow to her right. Between the wet, filth, and foul odor the shoes would have been doomed to the trash even if she hadn’t broken the heel.
“Why can’t you hide your ship somewhere *nice*?” The once-clean star reporter gave her gloomy surroundings a contemptuous glare. “Like an abandoned warehouse? Or the Lex-Store on the East Side?” She bent down and grabbed a crumpled sheet of paper from the dirt-covered ground where it had landed during her ignominious fall. “But *no*, you had to hide it in the sewer system.” Her eyes searched the arching top of the cavernous labyrinth. “What self-respecting superhero hides his spaceship in the sewer system? Huh…?”
With a final shake of her head, Lois adjusted to the new norm and squinted as she stroked out the hand-drawn map. At least, it hadn’t landed in the gunk that slowly gurgled past her. A few seconds later, she realized that she had no idea how much further the secret lair of the superhero was and consigned herself to trotting on, one limp at a time because there was *no* way she was going to walk through the sewers without shoes.
This situation lasted for only a couple dozen steps, then Lois decided to do something about the excessive limping. Propping her left hand against the wall, she pulled off her right shoe, glared at the heel, and sharply banged it against the wall. The two-inch heel snapped off, and Lois eyed the end-result skeptically. She would still walk funny, but at least she wouldn’t be toggling like a drunken sailor with a peg leg.
Three blisters later, the intrepid reporter leaned her back against the wall and hung her head. The hand clutching the map swung listless by her side while she used the other to push her mud-streaked hair from her forehead. At least, she hoped it was only *mud* that she had transferred to her hair during another spectacular fall when she had tried to jump over a crossing a while back. Which had brought her here…
Wherever ‘here’ was because she was lost. Completely and utterly lost. That much she knew for certain, and the only upside was that she could always crawl back into the daylight through one of the grate-covered entrances she came by every so often. All she had to do was admit defeat. Admit that Lois Lane didn’t get the story. A snort escaped her nose. As if *that* was going to happen! Superman’s spaceship was down here *somewhere*, and she was going to find it and show that hack that she did *not* need to steal a story to get the front page.
Her spirits rejuvenated, Lois pulled herself together and resumed her search for the Holy Grail of headlines. The only concession to her disheveled condition was her left hand, which she now ran along the wall for support. At least this way, she stood a chance of not getting more dirt on her outfit. <Not that it mattered much,> she mused silently as she considered her ruined combination. ‘The smart costume for the working woman of today.’ Lois rolled her eyes as she remembered the slogan advertising the spring line of Lex-Wear for women. She really should do an exposé on the misogynistic fraud committed by that ad, because apparently, today’s working women still only served coffee to their bosses instead of succeeding on their own.
Several dozen curses later, Lois reached yet another passage crossing the one where she was presently stumbling forward on her journey through the more scenic parts of the city. Up until now, every time she had reached a crossing, she had been able to basically step across the disgusting brew that flowed beside the raised walkway. This time, though, it looked like she had stumbled onto the mother of all sewer lines – the tube was big enough to drive a small truck through!
“Oh, that’s just great…,” Lois muttered under her breath before she zeroed in on a stone lying on the floor. A sharp kick later, and the good-sized pebble made its way across the mud and hit the wall on the other side with a satisfying echo. “Too bad I can’t just–”
Lois stopped when she heard a faint voice drifting up from down the larger tunnel. “…was a noise.”
“Marks, I’m tellin’ ya, ya’re startin’ to hear things.” The second voice sounded closer, was distinctly male, and accompanied by footsteps.
“Crap!” Lois hissed between her clenched teeth before she edged back down the path where she had come from.
“Well, if *I’m* the one hearing things, how come *you’re* the one leading the way to figure out what it was?” The second voice was also coming closer; the deep growl reminded Lois of the boxers she had hung out with in Menken’s Gym when she was ten.
“‘Cause I’m not goin’ to explain to the Colonel why I didn’t take guardin’ the artifacts seriously.”
<What colonel? What artifacts?> Even in her precarious situation, the particular references didn’t escape her trained senses. Not that it mattered, because she didn’t expect much pleasantness in her future if she was found by two guys who spent their days lurking in the sewers.
A faint halo of light appeared from the big cavern, telling Lois that the thugs were much better equipped than she was. The heavy footsteps could now be heard clearly on the wet ground, squishing and squashing as they brought her unseen foes closer.
Any second now they would reach the corner, and the usually brave reporter could feel her heart thumping in her throat. She pressed her back against the clammy stones that served as a wall and inched back further.
Her hand fell to the pocket of her blazer, and she searched for the small cylinder containing the pepper spray she always carried for situations such as this. It wasn’t there! Then she remembered the swarm of mosquitoes or whatever those gnats were she had stumbled upon. Now, *that* hadn’t been her finest hour, and she was grateful her co-workers hadn’t witnessed the pitiful dance as she had fought with the bloodthirsty creatures. And to add insult to injury, the pepper spray hadn’t even worked on them! Of course, none of that mattered now.
Lois pressed herself even closer against the rough concrete, no longer caring about the dirt and the… things that clung to it. Maybe her clothes were dirty enough by now to act as natural camouflage paint.
The cone of light grew more distinct, telling Lois that her pursuers had almost reached the corner. One more step and…
She was barely able to stifle a scream when she stumbled backwards into a smaller side-tunnel. Despite her surprise, Lois still managed to grab the wall, holding herself up; if she were to fall now, her safe haven would be ruined.
A second later, her balance was restored, and she held herself perfectly still, listening to the voices that echoed through the semi-darkness around her. “See? There’s nobody…”
Lois’ eyes went wide when she felt a weight on her head – a moving weight! Before, she had stood frozen in an attempt to be invisible; now, it was out of sheer, blank terror.
“…corner…”
The weight continued to move even as additional scraps of the conversation managed to drift through Lois’ panicked haze. She was trapped, something was crawling all over her head, and she needed a distraction.
Clenching her teeth almost to the point of shattering them, she reached up to her head and felt something cylindrical, furry. Her eyes went even wider and her breath became stuck in her throat. Still, she continued to move her hand carefully, suppressing the natural desire to jump around and screech in complete horror.
By now, Lois had completely disassociated herself from her arm, imaging that the limb was a mere appendage that did its mistress’ bidding as it grabbed the squiggling body and pulled it away from her hair. Her once clean, shiny, bouncy hair. Hair, she’d probably need to cut off and burn when this endeavor was over.
A few more inches and the disgusting critter was in front of her face. Suppressing the odd combination to gag and faint, Lois flung the beast towards the main walkway before collapsing back against the wall, her lungs furiously pumping air.
“What the…?” One of the guys, Marks, was speaking again.
There was a low thud and a squeak, followed by a splash. “I hate rats.”
“I told ya it was nothin’.”
“Yeah? Well, at least, now we can tell Trask that there’s nothing but rats down here.”
Trask? Lois’ mind kick-started again, and she tried to listen closer without actually moving.
“I hate rats…”
“I hear ya!”
Lois let a deep breath escape her lips when she heard Marks and his buddy walk back towards their guard post.
After another minute or two, Lois’ heart had calmed down enough so she could ponder the implications of what she had heard. Trask was down here. And he had brought his U.F.O.s with him. The very same unidentified junk that she and Kent had found in the warehouse on Bessolo Boulevard before the rouge Air Force officer had cleaned out his shop and vanished without a trace. And now she knew where he had vanished to.
The intrepid reporter stepped out into the middle of the walkway, her arms crossed in front of her, the map clutched in her hand. Somebody had given her a map that was supposed to lead her to Superman’s spaceship, and now she had found Trask’s hideout. She smacked her lips. The implications were perfectly clear. She hadn’t been setup. She had followed the trail perfectly. And now she was going to catch Bureau 39, Colonel Trask, and Superman’s spaceship all in one day’s work. Life was good. Especially for an ace reporter like Lois Lane.
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tbc
