The Circle Squared
by Terry Leatherwood <t_leatherwood@peoplepc.com>
Rated PG-13 (for violence)
Submitted: October 2004

The characters contained in this story are the property of
corporate entities other than myself.  No resemblance to any
actual persons, living or dead, is intended. 


The Circle Squared

It was early on Monday afternoon in the city.  Clark Kent
put his bags down on the sidewalk and looked around.  He took a
deep breath of Metropolis smog and smiled.  He felt right.  He
felt good.  He felt -

He felt ghost fingers clutching at his luggage.  Quicker
than a cobra, he snatched the very real wrist of the young street
girl who'd intended to rob him.  He stared at her sternly and
forced his eyes to glow red, a trick he'd used a time or two in
some very exotic places.

"Hey!  Why don't you - Holy - !"  Her facial expression
leaped from anger at being caught to fear of the weird stranger. 
Clark allowed her to jerk her arm loose and sprint away, which
was what he'd wanted in the first place.  No sense getting
involved with the police his first hour in Metropolis.

The screeching of bus brakes arrested his attention.  He
flashed in front of the bus and held it back until it stopped,
just before it ran over the older woman in the crosswalk.  She
looked at Clark's handprint in the grill of the bus and began
pointing to him and calling out that he'd stopped the bus single-
handed and saved her life.  Clark retrieved his bags and beat a
hasty retreat, confident that neither the bus driver nor the
passengers would corroborate her unbelievable story.

In order to stretch his savings, he rented a small apartment
only slightly more upscale than the city dump.  The manager
nodded eagerly when Clark asked permission to replace the locks
and dress up the place a little.  It didn't hurt that Clark paid
his rent three months in advance, in cash.

The call to his parents was brief, but pleasant.  They
exchanged verbal hugs and kisses, and they cautioned him, as
always, to be careful about revealing himself publicly.  Once
again, he reassured them that personal  publicity was among the
last things on his mind.  Then he made his way to the bus depot
and erased the evidence of his uniqueness.

He slept little that night, due to unfamiliarity with his
abode, nervous anticipation of the following day, and various
noises in the night.  He looked outside on three different
occasions to see if he could help.  Once he saw two drunks
banging their way down the alley.  A short time later, he
witnessed a man and woman arguing loudly but not fighting, so he
left them alone.


The third time, he whooshed outside to tap a mugger on the
side of the head as his intended victim fought back and swung her
tiny purse.  When she opened her eyes again, she was amazed that
such a soft blow could render the frightening man senseless, but
she beat a hasty retreat without investigating further.  The man
aroused himself a few minutes later and stumbled away.  Clark
hoped he'd decide to pursue a more legal vocation.

He awoke early the next morning, full of energy.  He grabbed
a soft drink and a pair of donuts from the snack bar in front of
his first destination.  He paused outside the building and gazed
up at the huge open metal sphere before him.  He'd determined
that he'd write for a major newspaper in a major city.  He'd
decided that he was more than qualified, by both education and by
experience, and the position of reporter would allow him to help
using his special abilities anonymously and remain in the
background, as well as using his writing skills for the
betterment of society.  His father had convinced him that being a
laboratory specimen was just one step up from a barn rat that was
destined to be breakfast for the farm dog, and his rural
upbringing had instilled a strong work ethic.  Clark refused to
sit on the sidelines, no matter where he was.

He arrived early, but he didn't care.  It was a great place
to be, a wonderful place to see.  The Metropolis Daily Planet was
a marvelous news organization with a world-wide reputation for
accuracy and fairness.  He saw it as a haven from his journeys, a
harbor for his travel-weary soul.  He wandered around the
downstairs lobby until a security guard accosted him.

"Excuse me, sir?"


Clark turned to see the young, fit security man standing
behind him.  "Yes?"

"May I help you, sir?"

"Oh, no, I'm good.  Thanks."

The guard stepped closer.  "Sir, is there a reason for your
presence here?"

"I'm supposed to meet Perry White this morning.  I have a
ten-thirty appointment and I'm early."

"I see.  I hope you don't mind if I verify that."

"Sure, go right ahead."

The guard stepped backwards and picked up his phone without
taking his eyes off the intruder.  "Mr. White?  This is Mark
Bailey, chief of security.  There's a man here who's been waiting
in the lobby for some time.  He says he has a ten-thirty
appointment with you.  Uh-huh."  The guard lowered the phone. 
"Sir, is your name Norman Brown?"

Clark frowned in confusion.  "No.  I'm  Clark Kent.  Who's
Norman Brown?"

Mark put the phone back to his ear.  "Yes, sir, it's Mr.
Kent.  Shall I sent him on up to you?  Of course.  Yes, sir."  He
lowered the phone to its cradle.  "Take the elevator to the fifth
floor.  That's the newsroom.  Mr. White's office is down the ramp
and to the left."


"Thanks."

The guard smiled and tipped his cap.  "All part of the
service, Mr. Kent."

After handshakes and introductions, Clark sat in Mr. White's
office, watching him peruse the clip folder.  The editor finally
looked up and said, "Mating habits of the Borneo chameleon?"

Clark brightened.  "That's one of my better pieces.  It was
a big hit in the East Indies.  I re-sold that piece four times to
other nature periodicals here in the States."

White nodded.  "I like that.  Shows initiative.  It's well
written, too."  He stood and handed the folder back to Clark. 
"Unfortunately, son, as much as I enjoy reading about the love
lives of various Asian reptiles, I don't have anything open at
the moment.  We're fully staffed now."

"Mr. White, if you'd just give me a chance to prove myself -
"

Perry shook his head.  "I'm sorry, son.  We just don't have
any openings right now."

The door whirled open and a pretty young brunette whirled
in.  "Chief, is there anything else hot right now? If not, I'm
going out again on that boxing corruption story."

"You get the mood piece on the theatre demolition?"

"Yep.  It's in your directory now.  You'll like it, I
promise.  I was in a really good mood for it."  She finally
noticed Clark and offered her hand, along with a smile.  "Oh, hi. 
Sorry, didn't mean to ignore you.  Lucy Lane, top-notch reporter. 
You new here?"

Clark shook her hand and shrugged.  "I'd like to be, but Mr.
White tells me there's nothing available right now."

She grimaced.  "Ooh.  Sorry, dude, but that's the newspaper
business.  You're only as good as your last byline."

Perry gestured to her.  "Remember that the next time you
turn in something you should have re-written once more."


She grinned at him.  "I will, Chief.  Did you have anything
else for me?"

"Not right now, but don't be gone long."  Perry turned to
Clark and handed the folder back to him.  "Kent, I wish you
luck."

"Thank you, Mr. White."  They shook hands.

Lucy smiled up at him.  "Come on, I'll walk you out."  They
left Perry behind in his office, flexing his hand and wondering
where Kent hid all his muscles.

They stepped into the elevator together.  "Chief called you
Kent?"

"Last name Kent, first name Clark."


Lucy offered her hand again.  "Pleased to meet you, first
name Clark.  What's your next step?"

He shrugged.  "I'm not sure.  I didn't expect to start right
away, but I also didn't expect to be turned down flat."

She punched the button for the lobby.  "It's okay.  You just
have to show some initiative and keep plugging.  I tried for
almost three months before I caught on as a stringer.  Hey, you
hungry?  I'll stake you to lunch."

Clark smiled.  "Well, I'd hate to take advantage of a
beautiful woman on my first day in the big city."

Caught in the nimbus of his smile, Lucy's knees wobbled
slightly.  "Oh.  Don't.  I mean, don't worry about it.  My offer,
my treat.  How about it?"

He considered.  "Sure.  I don't know the city, so you'll
have to pick the place."

"You got it!  Hope you like dogs."


*****

Clark examined the last of his lunch.  "You know, when you
said `dogs,' I thought you meant woof-woof bow-wow."

Lucy chuckled.  "I'll have you know, sir, that these are the
finest hot dogs in captivity anywhere on the East Coast.  They
are the choice luncheon of on-the-go professionals any day of the
week."

Clark wolfed down the final bite.  "I'll make it a point to
remember that."

They sat on a bench in the park, watching the pigeons fight
over the last of Lucy's bun.  She smiled at him.  "You're a nice
guy, Clark.  Anyone ever tell you that?"

He smiled back.  "Thanks.  You're very kind."

"No, I mean it!  You're almost too nice for this city."

"Really?  Would it surprise you if told you I had a bit of a
mean streak?"

"No.  I wouldn't believe it, though."  She looked at her
watch.  "Hey, I'm sorry, but I need to get going.  I've got an
appointment at one-thirty."

He stood and offered her his hand.  "That boxing story?"

She stood also and nodded approvingly.  "I'm impressed that
you remembered.  Yep, I'm meeting a fight manager.  I think she's
got some info I can use, if I can just get it out of her."

"Well, I'm sure you - the fight manager you're meeting is a
woman?"

Lucy scowled up at him.  "Whassamatta, Kent, ya got a
prollem wi' dat?"

He blinked and took a step backwards.  "No, I, uh, no, uh,
no problem at all."

She laughed.  "Easy, Clark!  I was just joking.  Don't get
all PC on me, okay?"

He nodded.  "Okay.  Thanks for lunch."

"See you around."

He took a step and stopped, then turned back.  "You said Mr.
White likes initiative, right?"

She frowned at the sudden change of subject.  "Yes. So?"

"So, how about I come with you on this fight story? Maybe I
can dig up something you'd miss."

She scowled at him.  "What do you think you can get that I
can't?"

"An interview with a boxer in the shower room."

"Oh."  She blushed slightly, and Clark smiled again.  She
melted in the glow and surrendered.  "Yeah, maybe you'll come in
handy after all.  Let's go."


*****

They caught an especially agile cab and arrived ten minutes
early, despite the quick side trip to get Clark's workout
clothing from his apartment.  He  carried the bag over his
shoulder, still wearing his burgundy suit and his tie with
geometric stripes.  The gym was in the older part of town, worn
by the passing years but not completely broken.  Lucy waved to
the old man at the door.  "Afternoon, Elmer."

He smiled.  Clark noticed several badly worn teeth and
piercing black eyes that missed nothing.  "Afternoon, Miz Lucy. 
She in the sparrin' ring."

"Hitting or yelling?"

"Li'l o' both, Ah think.  You take care, now."

"I will, Elmer, and thanks.  Come on, Clark, let's go stick
our heads in the lioness's mouth."

"The lioness?"

"You'll see."

"Elmer seems to like her.  And you."

She grinned impishly.  "Elmer's been around since before my
mom died.  He's been kind of a guardian angel for us, although my
father doesn't like him very much.  If you decide to stay in
Metropolis, you might look him up, get to know him.  He's a very
interesting guy."

"That's good to know.  I like interesting people."

"That's why you're sticking with me, right?"

Clark smiled back as they pushed through the metal gym door. 
The scent of so many unwashed bodies and stale towels assailed
his olfactory glands.  For once, he wished he suffered from
either allergies or some form of nasal congestion.

Lucy led them past a half-dozen young men hitting various
punching bags or skipping rope and went to another door.  She
pulled it open and immediately a razor-edged voice came into
focus.

Clark winced as he heard the woman speak.  Her tone could
break glass by itself, and her vocabulary reminded Clark of
dockworkers in Sri Lanka working unpaid overtime.  The woman was
trying to coach one of the boxers in the ring, and she was
working up to a major league frustration fit.

Clark glanced at Lucy, who nodded to the woman.  "That's
her.  That's the Mad Dog.  Just don't call her that where she can
hear you."

He leaned down and whispered, "The `Mad Dog?'  You're
kidding, right?"

Lucy shook her head.  "Don't say I didn't warn you."

They walked to a corner of the ring opposite the angry woman
and waited.  The woman whom Lucy had identified as Mad Dog spared
them a momentary glance, then went back to haranguing the hapless
pugilist.  She was dressed in loose navy blue slacks, white
running shoes, and a brown short-sleeved pullover top with a crew
neck.  Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a black
scrunchie.  Clark admired her narrow waist, topped by a pair of
feminine but muscular shoulders, with matching arms expanding
visibly as she waved her hands about.

Finally, her frustration overcame her, and she slapped the
canvas with both hands, then easily jumped up onto the elevated
surface.

"NO!  Manny, do you not understand plain English?  Throw the
left jab and hit him!  Don't just tap him!  Hit him!  HIT HIM! 
HIT!  HIM!  Okay?  You got it?"

"I been tryin' ta hit him!"

The woman grasped her head on either side and screeched in
frustration.  "Then do it!  The jab tells you where your opponent
is, but if you just tap him, he'll throw a right hand over it and
bust you in the jaw!  You have to hit him!"

"What you think I been tryin' ta do?  He move back!"

She walked to the other side of the ring, where she leaned
against the ropes and grabbed her head again.  She screamed
inaudibly.

Clark stepped forward.  "Excuse me.  You know how you plant
your back foot when you throw a right?"

"Yeah?  So?"

"You're turning your left heel inwards when you throw the
jab.  Try turning it out just a little bit.  It'll give you a
little more reach and more snap."

He stepped onto the mat and tried it.  "Like dat?"

Clark nodded.  "Yes!  See if that makes the difference."

The woman turned and stared at Clark.  "Hey!  You with the
lousy tie!  Shut your stupid mouth!  Get out of here! Are you
trying to ruin him?"

"Of course not!  That's a technique I picked up in Thailand. 
The boxers over there stand - "

"I DON'T CARE!"  she thundered.  "Lucy!  Get this moron out
of here now!  And don't bring him back!"  She jumped down onto
the floor.  "Do it now!"

"But Lois, he came with - "

"ARE YOU DEAF AS WELL AS STUPID?  GET HIM OUT OF HERE!!"

The sudden smack of gloves hitting flesh sounded behind
them.  "Hey!  Dat work!  Boss!  Lookit!"

They turned to see the young man snapping jab after jab into
the face of his sparring partner.  "Hey!  T'anks, man!  Dat
help!"

The woman whom Lucy had called Lois stared at Clark for
several breaths.  Then she called to the ring, "Okay, Manny, take
five.  You can try that jab against Kid Wilson on Friday night." 
She turned to Clark.  "Do you throw punches too, or do you just
talk a good fight?"

Lucy began, "No, Lois, he's not - "

Clark raised his hand.  "Sure, I can fight a little.  Want
me to show you?"

Lois's eyes twinkled.  "Yeah.  You got togs?"

He lifted the bag.  "In here."

"Go dress out.  We'll see what you got."

Clark turned towards the dressing room.  He hadn't taken two
steps before Lucy grabbed his arm.  "Are you crazy?  You just
brought that stuff for camouflage, remember?  You can't trade
punches with one of these fighters!"

"Sure I can.  Just watch."

He tried to pull away, but she refused to let go.  "I will
not let you do this!  You're only supposed to look like a
fighter, not act like one!  You'll get hurt and Perry will string
me up by my heels!  You can't get in that ring!"

"Sure I can.  Just watch me."

She clenched her free hand into a fist.  "You are completely
crazy!  Do you know that?  You're totally insane!  You are
nuttier than a tree in squirrel season!  You aren't playing with
a full deck!  You are dumber than a box of 4-bit CPU chips!  Your
elevator doesn't even get away from the lobby, much less get
close to the penthouse!  You are about the dumbest man I've ever
seen or heard of!"

Clark stood there, listening, until she ran out of air. "Are
you finished now?"

"No!  I'm sorry I met you!  I'm sorry I took pity on you and
fed you!  You're like a stray dog that gets a meal and won't
leave and now you're acting like I own you or something!  You go
in there and he'll eat you alive!"

Clark turned to her and gently removed her hand from his
arm.  "Lucy, I'll be fine.  Just trust me, okay?"

"I don't know you well enough to trust you!"

"You trusted me enough to let me come with you.  Trust me
now."

"It's not the same thing!"

"Look, you said Perry White appreciates initiative.  Haven't
you done some slightly crazy things before to get a story?"

"Of course I have, but - "

"Then let me be slightly crazy.  You can't hog all the
insanity in the city."

Lucy opened her mouth to protest again, but closed it
without speaking.  With deep misgivings, she released him.

She turned to Lois as Clark disappeared into the dressing
room.  "Look, just watch him stick and move, okay?  Just get a
feel for what he can do, whatever that is!  Don't let that
bruiser in there hurt him!"

"'S'matter, Luce?  Your new boyfriend too pretty to get beat
up?"  Lois stared at Lucy for a moment longer, then sighed.  She
waved the second fighter down to her level.  "Listen, Frank, just
check him out, okay?  I don't wanna get sued here, so don't mess
him up and for cryin' out loud don't knock him out."

Frank grinned and nodded.  "Gotcha.  Be gentle with the
little lamb."

"That's it."  She turned back to Lucy.  "Satisfied now?"

Lucy didn't answer.  She just frowned and crossed her arms
over her chest.  A moment later, Clark walked out carrying a pair
of boxing gloves.  He handed them to Lois and put his helmet on.

"You don't need your glasses to see, do you?"


"I can see well enough without them.  They're really just
for fine detail."

"Good."  She tied down the gloves and checked his helmet. 
"What's your name, pretty boy?"

"Clark Kent.  And don't worry about the pretty part.  I can
take care of myself."

"Yeah."  She stopped and put her hands on her hips.  "Look,
don't show off in there, okay, Kent?  In fact, you really don't
have to do this at all."

He looked her in the eye.  "I don't?  Really?"

"Yeah."  She broke the stare.  "Sometimes I, you know, pop
off when I should, uh, shut up."

He grinned.  "No problem.  I've done the same thing a few
times myself."

She exhaled.  "Good.  Lemme get those gloves back - "

He stepped up onto the ring and through the ropes.  "Just as
soon as I'm through with them."

"What?  Hey!  Get back down here!"

"Nope.  I said I'd do this and I'm going through with it. 
Let's box."

Lucy's eyes widened.  "Man oh man oh man!"

Clark stepped forward and tapped gloves with his opponent. 
They began shuffling around the ring.  Frank sent a soft jab
towards Clark, who slipped it and returned a quick right to the
body.  Frank grunted with surprise and stepped back, then came in
more carefully.  Clark blocked a half-speed left-right-left combo
from Frank, slipped to his right, jabbed twice to Frank's head,
then danced lightly away.

Frank glanced at Lois, who was staring at Clark with her
mouth hanging open, so Frank bore in harder.  He threw a hard
left jab-right uppercut combo and tagged Clark solidly enough to
move him backwards, but Clark stepped closer, clinched for a
moment, and threw a sharp overhand right as they separated. 
Frank staggered back and snorted.

Lois suddenly yelled, "That's enough!  Hold up!"  She
climbed up to the ropes and motioned to Clark.  "Pretty good,
Kent, but Frank was holding back.  How'd you think you'd do if he
went full speed?"

He grinned.  "Only one way to find out."  He turned to his
opponent.  "You want to try it for real?"

Frank looked at Lois for a moment, then nodded.  "Okay.  But
I don't wanna hurt you.  We go until the first knockdown or until
you - until one of us gets tagged good.  And only one round.  I
still got some roadwork to do."

"Sounds good to me.  I promise not to hit you too hard."

Even Lucy smiled at that.  Lois clapped her hands.  "Okay. 
I'll call it.  Lucy, keep the time.  Three minutes, not one
second more."

Lois leaned over, tossed a stopwatch to Lucy, and climbed
into the ring.  "You guys ready?"  They both nodded.  Lois lifted
her hand between them.  "Lucy, you ready?"

"I still don't think - "

"ARE YOU READY?"

Lucy sighed in exasperation.  "Ready!"

"Go!"

Lois dropped her hand and backed away.  Frank bore in and
tried to score to Clark's head with jabs and hooks, but Clark
skipped away.  After a few seconds, Frank became frustrated and
lunged at Clark with a left hook.  Clark dodged and countered
with a straight right that rocked Frank back on his heels, but he
recovered quickly and began punching at Clark's belly.  Clark
took three hard shots and answered with a right cross and two
left jabs to Frank's head.  Clark danced away to one side,
apparently unhurt, as Frank stumbled to his right.

Frank shook his head to clear it and cautiously approached
Clark again.  He faked a right, then jabbed twice with his left. 
Clark dodged the first one and blocked the second.  Frank stepped
close and unleashed an uppercut that Clark barely avoided, then
Frank took a left-right-left combo to the head that left him
woozy for a moment.

Lois shouted, "Hold it!"  She took Frank's gloves in her
hands and looked into his eyes, then she waved her hands above
her head.  "That's it!  Fight's over."

Clark stepped forward and offered his hand.  "Nice round,
Frank.  You almost got me with that uppercut at the end."

Frank hesitated, then shook hands.  "Yeah.  You're real
quick, man.  You got some power, too.  You musta fought
somewhere, but I don't recognize your name."

Clark shook his head.  "No reason you should.  I played
defensive back in college.  The backfield coach had all of us
study boxing.  He said it would help our hand-eye coordination."

"Did it?"

Clark smiled.  "We intercepted thirty-five passes in eleven
games in my senior season.  I think it helped."

"Hey, that's pretty good!  You fighting anywhere now?"

"No.  I just try to keep my reflexes sharp as I travel. 
I've been earning my living as a writer for the last - "

"A writer?"  Frank's eyes bulged and he turned to Lois. 
"You set me up!  You put a freakin' writer in with me and didn't
tell me!  I'd'a busted his head if I'd'a known!"

Lois put her hands on her hips.  "I didn't know it either!" 
She looked pointedly at Lucy.  "Although I should have known
something wasn't kosher."

Lucy raised her hands.  "Hey, I tried to talk all of you out
of this, remember?  Besides, he - "

Clark interrupted her.  "Did you know that Ernest Hemingway
was a boxer in his younger years?  So was Louis L'Amour, the
Western writer.  Besides, uh, Lucy didn't know I was looking for
a gym to fight out of."  He paused.  "Got any openings?"

Lois crossed her arms.  "Maybe.  You serious about fighting,
or you just looking for inspiration for your next novel?"

"I'm out of a job.  I'm looking for grocery money."

Lois flashed a sardonic grin.  "Good answer.  Okay, if you
really want to give this a shot, you be here tomorrow morning at
six AM sharp for some roadwork.  If you're late, don't bother
coming."

He nodded.  "I'll be here.  And thanks."

Frank took off his helmet.  "I'll be here too, word boy. 
Don't get too sleepy and miss your appointment."

Lois pointed to Clark.  "Go get changed and get some sleep
tonight.  You got a place to crash?"  He nodded.  "How about meal
money?"

"Enough for a couple of weeks."

She nodded back.  "We'll work something out.  If you really
want this, we both might make some actual cash here."


*****

Clark and Lucy took a taxi back to the Planet, but they
stopped and climbed out two blocks away from the paper due to
traffic.  Lucy found an ice cream vendor and bought a cone, then
began walking towards her office.

Clark stepped in front of her and frowned.  "You haven't
said a word to me since we left the gym.  Are you going to talk
now or just stare at me?"

"Talk now, I guess.  How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

She sighed.  "You out-boxed a veteran fighter back there. 
I'd kinda like to know how you managed that."

He shrugged.  "I just reacted to what he was doing. He's
actually pretty good for a sparring partner."

"Sparring partner?"  She stared into his eyes.  "Lois was
right.  You are a moron.  That was `White Hand' Meucci.  He's a
former middleweight contender.  They say he's the hardest
opponent there is for new fighters, because he's seen it all and
can still give it back in spades!"  She shook her head and
started off again.  "You've really put both feet in the brown
applesauce, last name Kent."

"Hey!"  He skipped around in front of her and stopped.
"What's the big deal?  His manager, Lois, seems to know what
she's doing."

"Oh, yeah!  She sure does.  You know about her?"

"No."

Lucy's jaw dropped.  "You mean you signed up to fight for
her and you don't know anything about her?"  She waved her hands
and almost dropped her ice cream.  "I was right about you! 
You're fractured in the head!  You have no idea what my sister is
like!  You don't know what she's capable of!  You don't even know
why they call her Mad Dog Lane, do you?"

"Well, I assume it's because - wait, what did you say?"

"That you don't know why they call her Mad Dog!"

Clark shook his head.  "No, no, I mean the part her being
about your sister."

Lucy stared at him.  "Oh, man!  You don't know, do you?  You
don't know!  You really don't have any idea!"  She started
laughing.  She laughed so hard she leaned against a traffic
signal and almost fell down, and this time she did drop her cone.

Clark helped her to the nearest bus stop bench and waited
for her to wind down.  "Whew!  That's the funniest thing I've
heard of in years.  Wait until I tell Perry!"  She suddenly
grabbed Clark's arm.  "Oh!  Perry!  We have to get back to the
Planet before he leaves!"  She jumped up and yanked him behind
her as she ran.  "Come on, slowpoke!"

They sprinted the last two blocks.  At the crosswalk to the
Planet, Clark had to physically hold Lucy out of traffic until
the light changed.  After they crossed the street, she yanked him
into the Planet's lobby and up to the security desk.

"Mark!  Mark, has Perry White left yet?"

The guard checked his board.  "No, Miss Lane.  He doesn't
usually - "

She turned and sprinted for the elevators as Clark followed. 
"Call him and tell him to wait for me!  I have to see him now!"


*****

Perry looked at Lucy as she finished her story.  He spoke
quietly at first, but his intensity grew with each syllable. 
"Lucy, let me sit down and get comfortable.  There.  Much better. 
Now, I want you to very carefully explain to me why you took a
complete stranger - one who is most definitely not employed by
the Daily Planet - with you to an interview.  And then I want you
to tell me why you think getting him into a boxing match - which,
by the way, makes us all liable for legal action - is even
remotely a good idea!"

Perry slammed his hands down on the desk as he finished. 
Before Lucy could respond, Clark spoke.  "Mr. White, it was all
my idea.  Lucy tried to talk me out of it more than once."

"I see.  In that case, Mr. Kent, would you please explain to
me why you thought this was anywhere in the neighborhood of a
good idea?"

"I still want a job at the Planet."

Perry gave him a hangdog look.  "Oh.  Well, that certainly
clears that up.  You want to work for the Planet, so naturally
you're going to box out of Mad Dog Lane's stable of fighters.  Of
course.  It's perfectly understandable to me now."

Clark grinned.  "I want to go undercover as a fighter.  I
can feed info to Lucy so she can approach the story from the
outside while I look at it from the inside.  What do you say, Mr.
White?"

Perry stared at him.  "Son, did one of those shots you took
scramble your brains?  You know how difficult and demanding it is
to be a boxer?"

"Yes, sir, I do.  I played football in college and worked
out with the boxing team.  They wanted me to leave football and
box full-time, and they won the Tri-State collegiate championship
my junior year."

Lucy spoke up.  "Actually, Mr. White, he did pretty good."

"Yeah?  What bum fell over for him?"

"No bum, chief.  He was up against Frank Meucci."

Perry stared.  "You fought Frank `White Hand' Meucci? And
you're still standing?"

Clark and Lucy started talking over each other.  "We weren't
going full speed - "

" - only at first - "

" - and he was already tired from sparring - "

" - Frank was warmed up and didn't ever hurt him - "

" - and he'd never seen me before - "

" - Clark almost knocked him out - "

" - it was a lucky punch - "

" - Frank got mad and almost tagged Clark but missed - "

" - I barely got out of the way - "

" - Clark whacked him a good one - "

" - it was only one round - "

" - you should have seen Frank's eyes roll - "

Perry stood and yelled, "Enough!"  He panted twice.  "If I
want to watch a ping-pong match I'll turn on TSPN!  Now.  Sit
down, both of you.  And speak one at a time!"  He watched them
sit, then seated himself.  "Lucy, you go first."

"Chief, he doesn't know about Lois."

Perry shook his head.  "He just met her.  What can he know?"

"You don't understand!  I didn't tell him she was my sister
and I didn't tell him about her black belt or about the
championships or about her teaching in the dojo or - "

Perry lifted his hands.  "Hold on!  I get the picture.  Mind
if I fill Kent in?"

She nodded.  "Sure.  Go ahead.  I wanna watch his face."

"Okay, Kent.  You know who Doctor Sam Lane is?"  Clark shook
his head.  "They call him the Boxer Doctor.  Not because he
fights, but because he works with fighters, and not in the ring. 
He's a guy who knows some guys, you know what I mean?"

Clark nodded.  "I think so."

"Well, Lois and Lucy are his daughters.  Lois is the older
by, what, almost five years?"

Lucy nodded.  "Four years, eleven months, eight days, five
hours  - "

"Close enough.  They lost their mother in a car wreck about
nine years ago.  Lucy came to work for us not long after high
school, and she's done a pretty good job, at least up until
today."  He glared at her for a moment, but didn't dent her
enthusiasm.  "Anyway, Lois joined her dad in his gym, working
with his fighters.  She was already into Tae Kwon Do, but after
her mom died she dove in head-first and started fighting
professionally.  She was a women's finalist or semi-finalist
three years in a row, then won the last two international open
combat championships.  She retired from competition after she won
last year's International tournament.  She was already training
fighters and teaching, but now it's her full-time occupation."

"Okay, I got that.  What does this have to do with her dad?"

"I'm coming to that.  Lucy and her dad don't get along too
well.  In fact, she and her sister don't get along too well,
either.  Lucy had to have some dental work done last year because
she bothered her sister at the wrong time."  Perry tapped his jaw
with his fist and raised his eyebrows.

Clark turned to Lucy.  "She hit you in the mouth?"

Lucy ducked her head.  "Well, I kinda hit her first."

"And that makes it okay?"

Lucy shook her head.  "We were having an argument about Dad,
and she said something and I said something back and she said
something else and I whacked her in the side of the head and next
thing I know I'm in the emergency room with Elmer."

"Wow."  Clark shook his head.  "I better not get her mad at
me."

Perry pointed his index finger at Clark's face.  "You got
that right, son.  They call her Mad Dog because she used to growl
and snap at her opponents.  She was even disqualified from a
tournament for biting another fighter."

Clark's jaw dropped.  "She bit her opponent?  During a
match?  Wait a minute, I remember hearing about that!  Didn't
some writer use that to slam women's fighting, saying that the
men would never do anything that juvenile?"

"Sure did.  Some comic over on the fruits-and-nuts coast
suggested that Lois and the writer bite it out jaw-to-jaw to see
who had the best choppers.  They didn't, of course.  I don't
think Lois has ever even met the guy."

Lucy added, "She'd kick his butt all over the state!"

"Be that as it may, Lucy, your sister has been seen in the
company of some pretty shady characters, and the company of one
very rich person of very uncertain character in particular. 
Kent, we think Sam Lane and his associates are trying to get
control of boxing in the eastern U.S., and we don't know how
deeply Lois is involved in it, or if she even is involved.  If
they do take over the fights - and the betting on them - they'll
be able to manipulate the weight classes and the fighters and
there won't be an honest match for decades.  It would hurt a lot
of people, not to mention funnel a ton of money to some pretty
dishonest characters."

Clark frowned.  "I understand the part about the shady
characters, but to which particular rich person of uncertain
character are you referring?"

Perry sighed.  "He's the richest man in the state and he
wants to be the richest man in the world.  He started slower than
Bob Fences, but he's catching up as fast as he can.  He wants to
be perceived as a philanthropist, but a few of us think he's as
slimy as any five species of snail."

"I see.  And his name is?"


*****

Lois had just finished the last of her paperwork for the day
when he spoke.  "Knock, knock."

Without looking up, she answered, "Who's there?"

"Orange."

"Orange who?"

"Orange you glad to see me?"

She finally looked up as a smile played about her lips.  "It
must be love if you expect me to laugh at that lousy joke."

"Actually, I dropped by to ask if you'd be interested in
accompanying me to the opera this evening.  There's a late
performance of Vivaldi you might enjoy."

"Ooh, Vivaldi?  Aw, geez, I really wish I could, Lex, but I
got fighters to train starting at six in the morning, and I don't
want to be worn out from wrestling with you."

He frowned at her.  "I'm truly sorry to hear that.  I was
really hoping to continue our discussion from the other evening."

She closed and locked the file cabinet.  "Which discussion? 
The personal one or the business one?"

His mouth smiled.  "In this case, my business interests and
personal interests coincide."

"Don't they always, at least for you?"

He frowned.  "Lois, my dear, that sounds almost - petulant."

She stood and gaped at him.  "Petulant?  Hey, Lex, honey,
that's a real big word to use in front of a dis-educated fighter
like me.  Us fighters is kinda dumb, ya know.  Our brains is
scrambled and we don't thunk so good no more."

He moved towards her.  "I'm so very sorry that you were
insulted at my party last weekend.  I assure you, the woman who
said those things to you has been discharged from my employ."

"Yeah?  As rude as she was, I remember she looked pretty
good in that gown that cost more than my Jeep is worth."

He crossed his arms and tapped his toes.  "Lois, I truly do
love you and I respect you.  Isn't that enough?"

She put her key ring in her pocket.  "No, Lex, it isn't.  I
don't like being around people who reject me before they even
talk to me.  I resent being considered a Neanderthalian throwback
by the women in your social circle and a target of opportunity by
the men.  Including you."  She flipped open a box on her desk and
pulled out a pair of long, thin cigars.  She lit one with a cheap
butane lighter and offered the other to him.

"Thank you, no."

"Oh, come on!  Walk on the wild side for once."

He grimaced at the reek her cigar was producing.  "I think I
have a much more flavorful vintage in my office.  If you'd like
to sample a truly fine blend, I can arrange for a delivery here."

She blew smoke towards his face.  "Don't bother.  I like my
stinky weed here."  She tapped the ash from the end and pulled in
another lungful.  "Ahh!  Total bliss."  She slowly exhaled, then
seemed to remember he was there.  "Anything else you want?"

He controlled himself with a visible effort.  "No.  Not
tonight."  He turned to leave, then stopped at the door. "Oh, and
good luck with your new fighter.  I hope he works out better than
the last one."

"Thanks, hon.  Good night!"

He walked out, baffled by her behavior.  A tall, dapper,
white-haired Englishman opened the door to his limo, then entered
behind him.  The car glided away from the curb.  Lex sat back
against the seat and angrily slapped the car door.

"Shall I arrange an accident for the door panel, sir?"

Lex started, then smiled thinly.  "No, Nigel.  But thank
you.  Occasionally even I need to be reminded that control of any
situation begins with control of self.  You did that most
tactfully."

Nigel St. John nodded slightly.  "I take it, sir, that your
- relationship - with Lois Lane is not proceeding as you had
anticipated."

"No, it is not.  And I'm somewhat at a loss to understand
why."  He leaned forward.  "She seems to delight in taunting me,
in making me believe that she feels more strongly for me than she
actually does.  And she still won't give me access to her files." 
He leaned back and shook his head.  "It is a puzzle to me."

Nigel smiled coldly.  "One which I am certain you will
solve, sir, given time."

"Mmm.  Time may be a problem.  The plan involving the boxing
promoters is coming to a head, and Lois Lane is the only manager
still holding out so strongly.  If she were to acquiesce, then
the others would fall into line, but as long as she resists, it
gives them some false hope."

"Surely you will be able to forestall any inconveniences."

Luthor shook his head.  "Perhaps not.  We've had to - ah, I
would use the term `borrow' - funds from the LexCorp retirement
accounts in order to cover other unexpected expenses, including
those involving the Messenger project.  When the boxing plan
culminates, we'll have more than adequate funds, but we must get
the money before LexCorp's annual report is filed with the
Securities and Exchange Commission.  They would not appreciate a
fifteen million dollar shortfall in the worker's retirement
accounts, and the resulting investigation would certainly depress
the company's stock price, and - well, you get the idea, Nigel. 
It would be, to borrow a phrase, a `domino effect' of the worst
order."

"I see, sir.  Is there anything I might be able to
contribute?"

"Of course.  If you could see your way clear to loan me the
fifteen million?  No?"  Luthor chuckled.  "Never mind.  Thank you
for the offer.  No, the boxing and bookie scheme is our best bet
to recoup our investment at this point."  He sighed.  "I wish
Lois would be more cooperative."

"Perhaps this new fighter might be made an example of?"

Luthor grinned.  "Ungrammatical, Nigel, but insightful as
always.  We'll wait a bit, I think, but we'll certainly keep that
option open."

"Indeed, sir.  I would hope that we would not be forced to
make an example of Ms. Lane herself, as was recently done with
Mr. McGowan."

Luthor lost his smile and stared at Nigel.  The Englishman
handed Lex a folder.  "The latest data on the shuttle Messenger,
sir."  Then he turned his face to the window, lost in his own
enigmatic thoughts.


*****

Lois locked the gym doors, set the alarm, and headed for her
quarters on the top floor.  She liked living alone.  She liked
being close to the action in the gym.  It reminded her of the
good times with her dad, after Mom had died, before the gangsters
had leaned on him so hard that he'd crumbled.  Lucy hadn't
bothered to understand, hadn't really even bothered to be around,
but Lois had seen it all.  She'd seen the hard expressions, the
bulges under the armpits, and the casual brutality of the men
who'd forced her father to work for them.  True, they paid him
well, but he wasn't free.  He'd never be free until he got away
from them, and as time passed it was less and less likely that
he'd even try to get away.  Maybe he'd gotten to the point where
he'd rather finish his work on the wrong side of the law instead
of being law-abiding and risk not finishing it.  Maybe he just
didn't care any more.

Lois still missed her mother.  No one had ever said anything
to her about it, not her father or the police or any of the cold-
hearted men who hung around after her mother had died, but Lois
had always believed that the accident that had taken her mother's
life hadn't been an accident.  Her mom probably was drunk, sure,
but she'd always taken a cab or had someone else drive her home
when she'd had too much.  More than once, she'd even called Lois,
a teenager at the time, to come and get her from a party or a bar
or some girlfriend's house when she was too drunk to drive.

Lois had tried to talk to her father about it not long after
the funeral, but he was either too grief-stricken or too scared
of the gangsters to discuss it with her.  So she kept it to
herself, kept it secret, and only allowed herself to think about
it when she was alone.

She was thinking about it now.  For some reason, Lex Luthor
reminded her of those emotionless automatons who thought of
murder as a negotiating tool.  She had no concrete evidence, just
a feeling, like there was nothing down inside Lex Luthor but love
for Lex Luthor.  She'd even tried asking Lucy about Lex once, but
before she could get her questions out, they'd had another
violent argument, and Lois had finally punched Lucy.  She had
thrown just one punch, but it was enough to send Lucy to the
emergency room with a broken jaw and three dislocated teeth.  The
sisters, by unspoken but mutual consent, had maintained a
physical distance from each other after that, almost never coming
close enough to touch each other.  Their relationship had been
one of armed neutrality and simmering hostility.

It suddenly dawned on her that she hadn't told Lex that she
had a new fighter starting in the morning, just that she had to
be up early.  How had he known about him?  She reviewed the
people who'd been there that afternoon.  Was it Frank who'd
spilled the beans?  She wasn't sure, but she didn't think so. 
She'd known him for six years and he'd never so much as stolen a
towel.  Lucy?  No.  Lucy was too honest to carry on a deception
like that.  Manny?  He couldn't have done it.  He was too eager
to please her.  His sole motivation was building his career and
making money as a fighter.  Or was it?  She'd have to watch him.

Or maybe it was Kent?  She knew nothing about him, except
that he was really built, especially for a writer, and he could
use his fists.  He seemed almost too nice, like it was an act of
some kind.  And he had clear chocolate brown eyes, the deep kind
of eyes you could drown in.  Yeah, she'd have to watch her step
around him.  All she needed was another young, impressionable
fighter puppy-dogging her steps, begging for her affection.

She smiled to herself.  Lex had all but told her that he had
someone in her stable giving him information, and he surely
wouldn't want her to know that.  He was cool, calculating, and
subtle, but no one was that sneaky.  She'd rattled him hard
enough to shake loose one little piece of data.  That meant that
he really cared for her, on some deeply hidden personal level,
and that she could use those feelings against him if it became
necessary.  But she'd have to be careful.  That kind of leverage
was usually only good for small things, and couldn't be used too
often or it would disappear like her cigar smoke.

She frowned as she reviewed her thoughts.  Somewhere along
the line, she realized she'd lost the ability to trust people. 
It had been gone so long she didn't remember how it felt to trust
someone.  She didn't trust her father, her fighters, her sister,
the man who claimed he loved her, the police, or any of the other
managers she knew.  She'd have to depend only on herself to do
things, and on Elmer for advice, just as she had for years.  But
the burden was starting to wear on her.  She wasn't even close to
thirty yet, but she was already tired all the time and constantly
looking over her shoulder.  The lonely life was dragging her
down.  She dreaded being forty and living this way.

Time for bed.  The alarm would jar her awake too soon, just
as it did every day.


*****

Clark dialed the phone, trying to decide just how much to
tell his folks.  He knew he wouldn't lie to them, but he wasn't
sure he had to tell them the whole truth, not about the boxing. 
Especially not about the boxing.  His mom might reach through the
phone and yank his ear right off his head.


The phone rang several times at the other end.  The
answering machine finally picked up.  Clark was both disappointed
and relieved.

"Hi, Mom, Dad, this is Clark.  Guess what?  I got a job at
the Daily Planet!  Yeah, really!  Starting tomorrow morning! 
It's temporary right now, but I think it'll turn into something
more permanent soon.  I'll keep in touch.  I don't know how often
I'll be able to visit, since this assignment for the paper
promises to keep me busy, but we'll definitely talk.  Bye for
now!"

He hung up with a sigh.  Perry hadn't wanted to take him on,
even after all the angles that he and Lucy had tried, until Clark
had casually mentioned that the Metropolis Star could always use
real stories, especially juicy fight stories.  Perry had caved,
but only partially.  Clark's name wouldn't be on the payroll, and
he'd get a 1099 contractor report for his earnings the next year
instead of a W-2 form.  Perry had even agreed to deposit the
money in the Kent's savings account in the Smallville Bank and
Trust.  That way, the money could only be traced to the Planet if
a snooper already knew that the Planet was paying him.  Clark was
responsible for his own Federal and state taxes, and - most
importantly, at least to Perry - the Daily Planet's insurance
would not cover any of Clark's injuries should he get hurt in the
ring.

Clark naturally hadn't mentioned that he never got hurt,
that he'd have to be careful not to hurt anyone else.  He didn't
want to end up as some medical student's doctoral thesis.

Clark especially liked the last part of the arrangement. 
"Lucy," Perry had said, "you're the paper's contact on this. 
Clark can't exactly come back to the Planet or call us every time
he has something to tell us. You two need to start dating."

Lucy had laughed.  "What!  Me, date last name Kent first
name Clark?  You've got to be kidding!"

Perry had stared her down.  "For appearances only, young
lady.  This is for your safety as well as for his.  If you two
look like you're an item, then people won't get suspicious when
you meet every couple of days.  We've got to have a reliable way
to get Kent's info back to this office."

Clark, feeling impish, had taken Lucy's hand in his and
affected a bad Cuban accent.  "Oh, my darling Lucille, my heart
beats only for you!  Our souls are knit as one!  Let us flee to
the hills and slake our thirst for each other!"

Lucy had snatched her hand away and stepped back in horror. 
"You try to slake me and I'll have you arrested, bud!"

Clark laughed at the memory.  Then he opened his elderly
refrigerator and took out a plate of Twinkies for dinner.  He
washed them down with a quart of high-caffeine soda.

He had a hard time going to sleep.  He liked what he knew of
Lucy, and he respected Perry White's reputation, and therefore by
extension he trusted Lucy, because Perry trusted her.  But his
thoughts kept roaming back to Lois `Mad Dog' Lane.  The woman was
obviously a fierce competitor, but she'd stopped the sparring
match as soon as Clark had dinged Frank.  A manager who thought
of his - or, in this case, her - fighters as personal property or
just as an asset wouldn't have acted so quickly.  She'd have let
the fight go on, expecting Frank to make a comeback and clobber
Clark.

She hadn't.  She'd looked into Frank's eyes, seen that he
was stunned, and stopped the fight.  Clark hadn't expected such a
small thing to mean so much to him, but it did.  Almost as much
as gazing into her eyes as she grilled him on his intentions. 
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.  As long as he didn't hurt anyone,
he didn't see how this could cause any harm.

And it would be fun, too.  He could use his `special'
abilities, get the story, and get to know Lois better, all at
once.  He hadn't looked forward to morning this eagerly since the
night before his fourteenth birthday.


*****

Clark was waiting at the gym door when Lois opened up at
quarter to six.  "Hi!  I just thought I'd make sure I was here on
time.  How'd you sleep last night?"

Lois growled low in her throat and turned away.  Her eyes
weren't completely open and her sweat suit was askew.  Her coffee
mug was half empty, and her uncombed hair pointed in every
possible direction.

Clark bounced in and tugged the door shut.  "Is Frank here
yet?  No?  Okay.  I have some Chinese warm-up exercises I like to
do in the morning, if that's okay.  Or would you rather show me
what the other fighters do to stretch?"

"Rrrrgh."

"Good!  Say, I'll teach these to you if you want.  But I'm
sure you know most of them already, being a black belt and all. 
I didn't eat much breakfast because I didn't know what you
recommended.  I can run down to the pastry shop over - "

"Shut up, Kent!"

Clark was stunned, and it took a moment for him to recover. 
He spoke to Lois's back as she refilled her coffee mug.  "What's
wrong?  What'd I do?  I'm just trying to make sure I fit in.  I
haven't always fit in, you know.  I've been different all my
life, but very few people have told me to - "

"Shut up right now, Kent!"  She turned and stumbled towards
him.  "You are obviously a morning person.  I, on the other hand,
am not now, never have been, and almost surely never will be a
morning person.  I don't like mornings.  I hate perky morning
people.  I believe that if God had intended for us to enjoy the
sunrise, He would have scheduled it later in the day.  So when
you get here early in the morning, whether it's for roadwork or
signing papers or a doctor visit or just to hit the bag, don't
make small talk with me!  You got that?"  He nodded slowly. 
"Good.  Can you cook?"

The change in subject threw him.  "Huh?"

"I asked you if you could cook."

"Well, yes.  I grew up on a farm.  I can - "  He saw her
eyes flash.  "You want breakfast?"

She waved to one side of the foyer.  "Kitchen's through that
door.  Get a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.  Bacon if you
want it, but make it crisp and drain the grease."

He nodded.  "Got it."

"And make another pot of coffee!"

He turned back.  "Regular or decaf?"

She glared icicles at him.  "If you have to ask - "

"Right.  Regular it is."  He disappeared into the kitchen. 
Lois heard plates and silverware clattering.

Frank walked in.  "Morning.  Any of Elmer's drain cleaner
left?"

Lois pointed behind her, and Frank poured himself a cup.  As
he put the pot down, he heard tuneless humming and cooking noises
from behind the door.  He grinned at Lois.  "New cook?"

She nodded.  "For today, anyway."

He took a sip.  "Betcha he's a morning person."

Lois turned her still-bleary eyes to look at him.  "He's -
perky."

Frank chuckled.  "Whoa.  Bet you enjoyed that."

She closed her eyes.  "Can't imagine waking up every morning
to someone that energetic this early in the day."

Frank didn't say anything, but he filed the comment away. 
They stood beside each other, sipping coffee, until Clark pushed
out of the kitchen carrying two plates heaping with food.  He
looked around, shrugged, and put them on the desk beside the
coffee maker.  "Breakfast is served, madam, sir."

The caffeine was finally kicking in.  Lois looked at the
plates and said, "So eat it."

Clark frowned.  "Mine's still in the kitchen with the bacon. 
These are for you and Frank."

Frank's face showed surprise.  "Hey, thanks, Kent.  You got
silverware?"

"Watch this.  Nothing up my sleeve, but presto!"  Clark
produced three wrapped settings from his shirt pocket and placed
them beside the plates.  "Be right back."

Lois shook her head.  "He's like a puppy, eager to please."

Frank grinned as he sat down and dug in.  "And that's a bad
thing?"

"No, of course not.  I just don't think he's mean enough to
be a fighter."

"Won't know until he gets in the ring for real."  Frank took
a bite.  His eyes bugged out and he gasped.

"What's wrong?  Too hot?"

"No!"  He filled his lungs and sighed deeply.  "Those may
the best eggs I've ever tasted in my entire life!  I don't know
how good he can fight, but he sure can cook!"  He bent to his
plate with gusto.

Lois frowned, then took a pinch of her eggs.  To her great
surprise, Frank was right.  They were beyond delicious.  Maybe
Kent was a gourmet chef on the side.

Clark brought his plate, a platter of bacon, and another pot
of coffee to the table.  He grabbed a chair from the wall and sat
down.  They ate in rapturous silence as Lois watched Clark out of
the corner of her eye.  He seemed to take pleasure in their
enjoyment of the meal.  It was one more piece of the puzzle that
Clark Kent had become in her mind.

Clark finished a slice of bacon and asked, "Hey, is Manny
joining us today?"

Frank and Lois both stopped for a moment, then Lois
answered, "No.  He's working with Elmer today and tomorrow."

"Oh?  Some special kind of training?"

"You could say that.  You notice Manny isn't, uh, as pale as
the three of us?"

Clark froze in his seat and fixed Lois with a glare. "Yes, I
did.  Are you telling me that it's a problem for you?  Because if
it is, I walk right now."

Lois's eyes popped open and she leaned back.  "No!  I don't
care what a person looks like on the outside, it's the heart that
counts.  I know Manny's got the heart.  I don't know about you
yet."

Clark relaxed a bit.  "Okay.  So what's Elmer teaching
Manny?"

"How to fight a white guy without losing his cool."

"Huh?  What difference does that make?"

Lois folded her arms.  "You tell him, Frank."

Frank sighed.  "Look, Clark, Manny's an okay guy and I like
him.  I'm like Lois, I don't care what the man looks like on the
outside as long as he's an okay guy inside.  But you have to know
that not everyone feels that way."

Clark nodded.  "Yeah, I know.  It's always baffled me how
this country can harbor so much racial prejudice, except that
I've found it in one form or another everywhere I've ever gone."

"Puzzles me, too.  Anyway, Elmer's working with Manny to
help him use the anger and channel it constructively."

"What anger?  Is the crowd going to get on him?"

Frank's mouth dropped open.  "You mean you've never fought a
guy who said nasty things about you and your girlfriend and your
mother and - "

Clark lifted his hands.  "I get it now.  Wilson's going to
say things to Manny to throw him off his game, right?"

Lois leaned forward and picked up her juice glass.  "I don't
know, but I have to get Manny ready for it.  If he loses his
temper in there, Wilson will end his career the same night it
starts.  I don't want that."

Clark looked at Lois and nodded.  "I understand.  Hey,
breakfast is getting cold!  Dig in, you two, dig in!"

Lois and Frank finished eating at almost the same moment. 
Frank drained the last of his coffee and leaned back.  "Kent,
you're gonna be a real fine wife someday.  You married?"

Clark choked on a mouthful of eggs.  Lois laughed at him. 
"No, Frank, I'm not.  How about you?"

"Me?  Naw!  I got divorced a couple of years ago.  The old
lady couldn't handle bein' a fighter's wife."  He played with his
silverware.  "She got married to an architect in Gotham City a
couple of months ago.  Even invited me to the wedding, just to
show there were no hard feelings."

Clark gazed at him sympathetically.  "Did you go?"

He shook his head.  "Uh-uh.  Had a bout scheduled that
night.  Won in six rounds, too.  Unanimous decision."

Clark nodded.  "Good for you.  Hey, what's the schedule for
today?"

Frank pointed to Lois.  "She's the trainer.  Ask her."

Lois half expected Clark to draw back or stutter with
embarrassment.  Instead, he simply turned and asked, "Okay, boss,
what's the schedule for today?"

She blinked, then recovered.  "Twenty minutes stretching. 
Get your legs good and loose.  Then we dress warmly and go out
for a five-mile warm-up run.  We come back and work on the speed
bag and heavy bag.  Then we do another ten miles.  We come back
and do ten rounds of sparring.  Five more miles.  We come back
and finish with footwork and agility drills."

Clark nodded.  "Sounds good.  What do we do after lunch?"

Frank guffawed, and Lois frowned.  "Maybe you think that's
just a walk in the park, farm boy, but I promise you that you'll
sleep like a baby tonight.  You might not be so freakin' perky
tomorrow morning, either."


*****

Lois led them off on the first run.  She set a quick but
manageable pace, and both boxers stayed right behind her.  Clark
listened to Frank's breathing, and thought he detected a slight
occlusion in his left lung.  He'd have to figure out how to
suggest that Frank get a complete physical soon.

The three of them ended up back at the gym door.  Lois waved
them inside and tossed towels to each of them.  "Here.  Dry off
and change into shorts and T-shirt.  Get some water and be back
here in ten minutes."

Clark forced himself to mimic Frank's deep breathing.  A
five-mile run wouldn't have made him pop a sweat under normal
conditions, so he'd had to force himself to perspire.  He hadn't
had to do that since his college football days, and he'd almost
forgotten about it until Frank had mentioned how dry he still
looked after two full miles.

Clark finished changing first and returned to the gym floor. 
Lois was working the speed bag, making it dance and rattle in an
up-tempo shuffle.  Clark watched her alternate hands, then repeat
left and right, then only one hand and then the other, and then
she went back to alternating hands.  If not for his enhanced
vision, he would have seen only a blur as her fists spanked the
bag.

She stopped and stepped back.  "Okay, Kent, since you're the
first one out here, let's see what you can do."

Clark stepped up to the bag and began.  Lois stood back and
crossed her arms, watching at first, then she began calling out
instructions.

"Two left two right go."

"One left two right go."

"Three left two right go."

Clark lost the rhythm for a moment, then regained it.

"Not bad.  Most guys can't do that kind of off-kilter rhythm
for several days.  Go back to one left one right and speed it
up."

Clark focused on getting it right.  For some reason, he
wanted to impress this woman, to make her notice him.  A part of
his mind recognized how odd that feeling was, that it was
contrary to the way he'd behaved since the day he'd accidentally
destroyed his mother's chicken coop with one angry punch.  That
part of his mind managed to break through and remind him that he
wasn't supposed to be a physical marvel.  He wasn't supposed to
call attention to himself or to his gifts.

He forced himself to miss.  "Sorry."

Lois nodded.  "Keep at it.  I'm going to work with Frank on
the heavy bag."

She turned and saw Frank staring at Clark.  She motioned to
him to follow her.  "Come on, Frank, let's work on that left hook
of yours."

Frank followed her to the bag and began punishing it. 
"Good, Frank.  Keep your elbow up.  That's it."  She forced
herself to focus on the task at hand and ignore the devastatingly
handsome young man making the speed bag dance.  "Harder this
time, Frank.  Step into it.  Harder!  Snap it!  Good!  That's it. 
Keep it up."

"He's good."

"What?"

"Kent.  He's very good."

"Keep your mind on your own work, Frank."

Frank stopped and faced her.  "Look, Lois, I know why I'm
still here, why you're still working with me.  I'm a thirty-five
year-old light heavyweight and I'm not ever gonna be ranked any
higher than fourth unless the three guys in front of me all step
in front of the same bus.  I'm too old and too heavy to move down
a class and try to dodge those young stallions, and I'm not
strong enough to move up and beat up on the big boys.  I'm past
my peak.  I'm only here because you think you owe me something."

She shrugged.  "Maybe, maybe not, but you won't get any
better just standing here jawing at me.  Hit the bag!"

He assumed a stance, then looked into her eyes.  "I want to
work in his corner."

She released the bag.  "You what?"

"He ran those five miles at a constant pace and he didn't
get tired.  I had to work hard just to keep up with him.  You see
how quick his hands are.  If Kent sticks, he's going to be very
good.  He may even have a title shot in a couple of years.  I
want to work his corner.  You know I'm a good cut man."

"Don't be stupid!  You got your own fight to get ready for
just three weeks from Friday yourself.  It's way too early to
talk about what you're gonna do after you're done with the ring."

"Yeah, the ring."  He smiled at her.  "You know how they say
a ring is a circle, with no beginning and no end?  They call the
boxing ring a squared circle, partly because it does have an
ending.  For some guys, there's nothing left at the end.  I don't
want to be one of those beat-up pugs who can't tie his own shoes
or cut up his own steak.  I've seen too many of them."  He threw
a slow left at her head and grinned as she slipped it and locked
his elbow.  "You still got it, Lois, but you walked away.  You
coulda kept on fighting.  Why didn't you?"

Lois almost let her temper go.  She almost cursed him for
probing her reasons for doing what she did.  But, at the last
second, she dropped his arm and stepped closer.  "My mother died
because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  My sister
and I can barely stand to be in the same building together.  My
father and I don't speak.  I don't have anybody.  I dropped out
of high school to fight and I never went back.  I need something
to call mine, something I can say that I built, that I made
important.  This gym is it.  The fighters that I train are it."

Frank nodded.  "I never had anything like that.  Penny told
me it was one of the reasons she left me, because I didn't really
have anything and she didn't think I ever would."  He rolled his
shoulders.  "Let's go back to the big bag."

She nodded and grasped the bag again.  Frank began throwing
hard punches, blows that would have bruised his opponent's belly
and rib cage.  Lois listened for the speed bag and realized that
Kent hadn't stopped.  He'd even raised his tempo a bit.  He
alternated hands, changed his pattern, and somehow kept speeding
up.

Frank threw a hard right that surprised Lois.  She'd been
distracted, listening to the speed bag, and Frank's punch shoved
the heavy bag into her face.  She bit the inside of her mouth and
cried out.

Clark stopped immediately and rushed over.  "What happened?"

Lois grabbed a towel and held it to her mouth.  "Bi' mah
mouf."  She looked at the blood on the towel.  "F'ank, he'p Kent
wi' da hebby bab.  Be ba' soon."

Frank slid to the back of the bag.  Clark watched Lois stalk
towards a bathroom.  "That happen often?"

Frank shook his head thoughtfully.  "Nope.  Never seen that
before."

"Oh."

"Come on, Kent, start hitting this bag.  Impress me if you
can."

Clark grinned.  "Call them for me."

Frank braced himself.  "Left hook.  Right hook.  Left to the
body.  Again.  Again!  Good.  Left-right combo.  Again.  Harder! 
Whoof!  Good!"

Lois finished rinsing her mouth and stopped at the doorway
of the bathroom to watch.  Frank was right about one thing:  Kent
was good.  He was light on his feet, had excellent balance,
snapped his punches and pulled back into good defensive position,
and hit like a pile driver.  She'd never seen anyone move the
heavy bag that much when Frank Meucci was holding it.  Most guys
could barely budge it, but Kent was making Frank reset himself
after almost every blow.

He was her ticket, she decided.  He'd showed up on her
doorstep like a gift from elves.  He'd give her the chance to put
herself over the top.  He could be a cruiserweight champion,
maybe even fight in the heavyweight class where the big money
was.  And then she could get away from Lex Luthor and his smarmy,
snooty friends.


*****

She answered the phone on the first ring.  "Kent residence,
Martha speaking."

"Hi, Mom?  It's Clark."

There was an unusual click on the line, then another. 
"Clark?  I'm glad you called.  I was so glad to hear about - "

"Now, Mom, I know you didn't want me to fight any more, but
it was just something I felt I had to do.  It's in my blood, you
know."

The code phrase surprised her.  They'd used the fact that
Clark's blood wasn't the same as theirs on rare occasions when
one of them needed to maintain a deception about Clark's more-
than-normal abilities, but it had been years since any of them
had felt the need for such subterfuge.  Martha waved to her
husband.

"Oh, Jonathan?  Jonathan, pick up the other phone!  Clark's
still fighting and he wants to tell us about it."

Jonathan Kent stopped in mid-stride and stared at his wife. 
She pointed her index finger at her ear and wiggled it.  He
nodded in understanding and picked up the phone. "Clark?  I
thought you were walking away from the ring."

"I thought so too, Dad, but I met a girl and she took me to
a gym and the manager kind of teased me about being all hat and
no cattle and - "

Martha broke in.  "And you wanted to impress her.  I know,
Clark, it's the same kind of thing you've done for years."

"But, Mom, this is the real thing!  Lois told me that I'm
good enough to fight for money, real money, not just club fights. 
I've got a match coming up in six weeks.  And they're actually
going to pay me to fight."

Jonathan recovered first.  "Who's Lois, Clark?  Is she the
girl you met?"

Clark laughed nervously.  "No, Dad, she's my manager.  The
girl I met is her sister, Lucy.  Lucy's real nice, Dad. Mom,
you'd like her."

Martha chuckled.  "Can she make biscuits as light and fluffy
as mine?"

"Mom!  I just met her!  I don't even know if she can cook!"

Jonathan whispered, "More importantly, can she kiss?"

As his parents' laughter exploded, Clark implored, "Dad! 
Come on!  And don't try to show her my baby pictures, either!"

"All right, all right!  Your father and I want to come and
see you soon, son.  What would be a good time for you?"

Clark hesitated.  "Uh.  I really don't know, not right now. 
I'll have to let you know later.  Maybe after my first fight."

Jonathan wasn't smiling now.  "Clark, you know how we feel
about you fighting.  I want you - "

"Dad!  Please!  I promise not to get hurt!"

Jonathan paused.  "No, Clark, that's not what I was going to
say.  I was going to say that I want you to be happy.  If this
makes you happy, then we'll back you all the way."

His smile reached all the way down the line to Kansas. 
"Thanks, Dad.  That means a lot to me.  I sure miss you two."

"Your father and I miss you too, honey.  Be sure and call us
after your first fight.  You'll have to let us know how you do."

"I will, Mom.  I promise.  I need to get to bed pretty soon. 
Lois is expecting me at the gym at six tomorrow morning."

"Oh?  She's letting you sleep that late?"

Clark laughed.  "I don't think she understands how early the
day begins on a farm, Dad.  Besides, she's not exactly a morning
person.  But don't worry, she knows how to make us sweat."

"Okay, Clark.  Keep your left up."

"Good-bye, Dad.  Bye, Mom."

They each hung up.  Jonathan walked into the kitchen and
looked at his wife.  "You think Clark's phone was tapped?"

"He thought so.  That's good enough for me."

"I wonder who it was?"

Martha frowned.  "Doesn't really matter.  We have to assume
that the government will have our phone tapped before tomorrow
morning.  We'll have to watch what we say, especially to Clark."

Jonathan sighed.  "I hate that, but I guess it's better than
having him dissected like a frog in a laboratory."

"I'll certainly vote for that!  I suppose it's time to trot
out the Hemingway story."

"The one about him boxing in his youth?"

"That's the one.  I'll have to drop by Maisie's tomorrow and
let them know what Clark's doing.  If they find out from someone
else, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Or hear any other gossip."

She grinned and slapped him playfully on the arm.  "Stop
that!  Remember who found out about the price of wheat going up
and where I was when I found out!"


*****

Clark hung up the phone and frowned.  Who could be tapping
his phone, and why?  He'd have to keep his eyes and ears open.

He picked up the Daily Planet and sat down to read it. 
Lucy's story on the shuttle Messenger was on page three of the
main section.  As he read, he realized that she had a solid style
and presented the essential information in the right order.  He
grinned as he read the last three paragraphs and remembered
hearing what his high school journalism teacher had said
repeatedly:  Make your story an inverted pyramid.  Put the most
important information in the very beginning.  Let the last third
of your story be optional, because the editor might have to cut
it for space.

Clark saw that Lucy had followed the guidelines well.  Lucy
had relegated to the end of her story the information that the
Luthor Foundation had provided the final supplies for the
Messenger, and that they would be loaded in time for the launch
in nine days.  Lex Luthor, the president of the company, planned
to watch the launch from his offices, along with his personal
staff.

Clark frowned again.  If this guy has put this much money
and effort into the shuttle, why doesn't he want to be present at
the liftoff?  According to Lucy, he wasn't exactly shy about
being seen.  This would be a great photo op.  It didn't make
sense for him to stay away.

Perhaps it was time to quietly display some of his `special'
abilities.  He could check out the shuttle and make sure there
was nothing wrong with it.  He almost hoped he could find
something out of place, or some sabotage that would delay the
launch.

Then he realized how little he really knew about space going
vehicles.  The chance of his recognizing sabotage was slight,
unless someone was dumb enough to put a bomb on board.

The thought of possible sabotage sparked another thought. 
Luthor was pushing his own space-based initiatives, ones that
were not quite in harmony with the national government program. 
If this shuttle launch failed, maybe Luthor could get some of the
money from the Prometheus space station program pointed in his
direction.  If that worked out -

Clark's eyes bugged out.  Lex Luthor could well own Earth's
entire space program!  It was a long shot, and he had nothing but
speculation and deduction as a framework, but it fit what he'd
been told about Luthor.

And if any of it were true, it meant that he had even less
reason to trust Lois Lane.  He couldn't allow her to be
suspicious of his `relationship' with Lucy.  Lois had to believe
it was purely romantic between him and Lucy.

Romantic, Clark thought.  I guess I can handle that.


*****

Lois was taping Manny's hands.  "How's that?  Too tight?"

Manny flexed his fists.  "No.  It jus' right."

Clark watched silently.  Once again, he was impressed by
Lois's total absorption in her work.  She not only knew what she
was doing, she made certain that everything was done the best way
she knew how.

"Okay, Manny, this is your night.  You got that?"  He
nodded.  "Go out there and show Kid Wilson that you're the better
man.  Keep your cool.  Don't forget that!  And use that jab.  Use
it a lot!  He won't expect it, cause he doesn't think you have
it.  Pop his face with the left jab and go after his body with
your right.  Don't let him pound on you.  This is a four-round
undercard, so don't save anything for late in the fight.  Take
him, but take him smart.  Got that?"

Manny grinned and nodded.  "Jab to head, right to body, let
ref raise my glove."

Lois grinned and grabbed his head.  "Attaboy!  Let's go get
him."

She led them out of the dressing area to the ring.  There
were still a number of empty seats, but they were fighting the
first undercard fight and not many people gave newcomer Manny
Hershovitz a chance against the taller, stronger Kid Wilson. 
Lois, however, believed in Manny, and was determined to give the
young man the best chance he could get.

Clark was last in line.  He'd been to prizefights before, of
course, some of them in quite exotic locations, but never as a
corner man.  The peculiar institution of American professional
boxing intrigued him, as did the cross-section of society that
attended these combats.  He quietly checked out the people in the
first few rows.  Most of them were men in their forties and
fifties, dressed casually and arguing over the respective merits
of different fighters, some current and some legendary.  It was
what any Friday night fight crowd would look like, outside
Atlantic City or Las Vegas.

Then Clark noticed a tall, bearded man with white hair,
sitting alone in the third row behind Kid Wilson.  He was dressed
like the people around him, but he carried himself with a quiet
dignity which was evident even while he was seated.  Clark
assumed he was `connected' with some gambler; an undercover
police officer would never behave so distinctively.

Lois and Manny climbed nimbly up the steps and readied his
corner.  Clark watched Lois repeat her instructions to him - left
jab, right to the body, repeat until the bell rang or the ref
stopped the fight, then raise his gloves in triumph.  Manny
grinned and nodded.  Clark knelt beside the ropes and watched.

They went to the center of the ring for instructions.  It
was a non-title welterweight bout, and it looked like the real
fans were there.  Clark scanned the thin crowd.  Except for Lucy,
the only media people in the audience were low and middle level
print jockeys.  She walked to the edge of the seats and waved
enthusiastically at Clark.  He smiled back and returned the wave,
and she took her seat next to an older woman who seemed out of
place.  Clark couldn't tune his hearing to their conversation
because of the noise level in the old gym, so he tried reading
their lips.  He was surprised to find that the slightly dowdy
older woman was Manny's mother.  Lucy apparently knew her
already, and they shared a smile when Lucy pointed out Clark. 
Clark caught the words `dating' and `boyfriend' on Lucy's lips. 
The two women looked at him, so he smiled to Lucy and winked. 
Manny's mother nodded approvingly and said something to Lucy that
Clark couldn't catch.  Lucy blushed slightly as he turned back to
the ring.

A hand grasped his arm lightly and tugged.  "Hey, buddy,
how's your boy?"

Clark turned to see a tough-looking man in his late forties. 
"Excuse me?"

The man's expression didn't change.  "I asked you how's your
boy?"

"Oh.  You mean Manny."  The man kept staring at him.  "I
think he's ready."

"You think so?"

Alarms were going off in Clark's head.  "Yes.  I think so."

"You think he'll win?"

Clark shrugged.  "I don't know.  I've never seen Wilson
fight before.  I don't know him."

"You think your boy has a chance against a white guy?"

"Yes.  I think he has a good chance."

"Okay, four-eyes, you keep thinkin' that.  You got action
down on him?"

"Action?"

"A bet, dummy.  You got a bet down on him?"

"No.  I don't gamble."

"You don't? You're in the fight game and you don't gamble?"

"No."  Clark smiled at him.  "It's a bad bet."

"Huh," he snorted. "A purist.  A funny purist, at that." 
The man released Clark's arm.  "You wanna put down a bet, you
come see me."

"Sure.  Got a business card?"

A smile flickered in the man's eyes.  "Nice one, kid.  Come
see Angel if you want to put something down.  I'll take care o'
you right."  He walked away and disappeared into the crowd.

Lois and Manny came back to the corner.  Manny sat on the
stool that Clark had carried in.  Lois checked the laces on his
gloves one last time.  The referee pointed to both fighters,
pointed to the judges and waited for nods from each of them, and
then pointed to the timekeeper and nodded himself.  The bell rang
and both men leaped to the center of the ring and tapped gloves,
then began circling, each searching for an opening.

Lois turned to Clark.  "Kent!"

"What?"

"What did Angel want?"

"He asked me what I thought about Manny."

"And you said what?"

"I said I thought he was ready."

"You tell him Manny would win?"

"I told him I'd never seen Wilson fight so I didn't know."

"Good answer."  She looked directly at him.  "Don't talk to
Angel, Kent.  Not ever.  He's a known bookie, and if the state
boxing commission people see him around me or any of the corner
people very often they'll start asking questions, and I don't
need that kind of trouble."

"Who does?"

Lois smiled and nodded.  "You got that right."

The crowd roared.  Lois snapped her eyes back to the ring
and saw Manny chasing Wilson into a neutral corner and pummeling
him in the belly.  Wilson clinched and forced Manny back, then
the ref separated them.

Wilson backed away, clearly trying to get his breath back. 
Lois clenched her fist and shouted, "Go, Manny!  Good shot!"

Clark said, "He used the left jab to knock Wilson off-
balance and he crushed him with a right to the ribs, just like
you've been coaching him."

Lois yelled, "Again, Manny!  Do it again!"

He did.  The left landed cleanly, and Wilson stepped back
again.  Then Manny faked a left, and as Wilson moved to block the
punch, Manny threw a right cross against Wilson's unprotected
chin.  Wilson went down and Manny jumped up and down and held up
his hands.

The ref pointed Manny to a neutral corner, and he finally
went.  Wilson got up at the count of seven, but he was clearly
shaken.  He managed to stay away from Manny long enough to hear
the bell ring.

Manny came back to the corner exulting.  "Boss, I knock him
down!  I tag him good!"

"Yeah!  Now sit down and get hold of yourself!  This fight's
not over!"

Manny looked at Clark.  "I tag him good, yes?"

Clark smiled and grabbed Manny's arm.  "You tag him good,
very much yes!  Now listen to Lois, okay?"

"Okay!"  He turned back to her.

Clark listened as Lois outlined what Manny would do if
Wilson adjusted to the newly lethal left jab.  Clark had to admit
that Lois knew what she was talking about.  She was a good ring
strategist, too, better than he was, and far more experienced. 
He decided that he trusted her to guide him in the ring.  Beyond
that, he wasn't yet sure, although he admitted to himself that he
wanted to trust her.

Clark's attention was captured by something in the audience
that wasn't happening, like Sherlock Holmes' dog that didn't bark
in the night.  He saw Angel reappear and speak into several men's
ears.  Some of them nodded, some waved him away angrily, but
Angel didn't flinch until he stepped close to the tall man with
the white beard.  The man looked directly at Angel and made a
come-closer motion with one finger.  Angel's body language told
Clark that he was apprehensive, almost scared.  Angel leaned down
to hear what the man said, then he shook his head slowly.  The
tall man frowned and motioned him close again.  Angel's head
obscured the tall man's lips, but whatever he said to Angel
galvanized him.  Angel stood up straight and nodded hard several
times.  The tall man then waved Angel on his way and returned his
attention to the ring.

The odd thing about the tall man was that he didn't visibly
react to anything that was happening in the fight.  Clark watched
him until the bell rang to begin the second round.  Wilson came
after Manny and tagged him with a left uppercut, but Manny came
back with the jab-body shot combination and jarred Wilson again. 
The tall man steepled his fingers and watched the fight intently,
but if he moved after that Clark didn't see it.

Lois jumped up, screaming encouragement to Manny, who had
once again cornered Kid Wilson.  Wilson put his hands on the back
of Manny's neck to force his head down, but Manny bowed his neck
and threw one hard shot after another into Wilson's midsection. 
Wilson finally clinched, but everyone could tell he was barely
hanging on.

The ref separated them, looked in Wilson's eyes, and gave
him a standing eight-count.  The ref waved them back together,
and Manny charged in to finish the bout.

It was his first mistake.  Instead of dodging, Wilson stood
Manny up with a straight left, then knocked him down with a
vicious right cross.  Manny fell flat on the canvas, woozy and
unfocused, and Wilson stumbled to a neutral corner.

Lois screamed at Manny to get up.  Clark added his
encouragement, trying to tell Manny that Wilson was all in, and
that all Manny had to do to win was to throw one more good punch. 
Manny managed to stand at eight, and the ref examined his eyes. 
Clark feared that he would stop the fight, but he stepped back
and waved the fighters together again.

Wilson advanced slowly, his legs unsteady.  Manny moved to
his left and tried to angle for a good shot, but Wilson stumbled
away, out of range.  The bell rang before either man could land
another telling blow.

Manny slumped down on his stool.  Lois rubbed his neck and
upper arms while Clark gave him water and wiped ointment on a
swollen lump under his left eye.

Lois got his attention by tugging his face towards her. 
"Manny!  You got to be patient!  He's too strong for you to just
bull rush.  Now listen!  Use that jab!  Remember that jab!  He
doesn't like it and you can hurt him with it.  Remember what you
did when you faked the jab and hit him in the belly?"

Manny nodded.  "Yeah.  I `member."

"Good!  Do it again.  Then, when I tell you, fake the jab,
fake the right, and throw a hard left to his jaw! You'll know
what to do from there.  Okay?"

He nodded again.  "Yeah.  Okay.  I take him this round."

Lois screeched, "No!  Don't try for a knockout!  Just keep
jabbing him!  Jab!  Jab and body!  Jab and body!  Got that?"

Manny nodded.  "Yeah.  Jab and body.  I got it."

"Good!  Remember, Manny, a point win is still a win! 
Understand?"

He smiled slowly.  "Yeah.  I understand.  I win on points."

The bell rang and Lois smiled at him.  "Go get him, tiger!"

Manny jumped up and ran towards Wilson again, but stopped
just out of range of Wilson's gloves.  The Kid had leaned
forward, anticipating a quick attack, and when it didn't come he
took a step that put him off-balance.  Manny threw a quick jab
and stung Wilson.  Then he faked a jab and landed a fierce blow
to Wilson's short ribs.  Clark heard Wilson's sharp exhalation
and he shouted, "Now!"

Manny faked another jab, faked a right, and when Wilson
broke down his defense trying to keep that hard right out of his
belly, Manny threw his best left of the night.  It caught Wilson
full on the face and rocked him onto his heels.  Manny came after
him, hammering him with head and body shots, until the ref
stepped in and called for another standing eight-count.  This
time, Manny headed for a neutral corner without being told, and
Wilson stood there breathing hard as the ref counted to eight. 
Then he looked into Wilson's eyes, didn't like what he saw, and
waved his hands over his head.

The fight was over on a technical knockout in the third
round.  Lois leaped into the air, and Manny threw his hands to
the sky and shouted.  The crowd, still filing in, roared their
approval.  Manny shook hands with Wilson, who was still reeling
from the onslaught, then came to the center of the ring as the
announcer proclaimed his victory.

The celebration moved down to the seats, where Manny
embraced his mother and lifted her in his arms.  Clark put his
arm around Lucy and hugged her.  She reached up and pulled his
head down to hers and kissed him briefly.

"Gotta keep up appearances," she whispered.  Then she gave
him a soft smile and hugged him.

Stunned, Clark stopped where he was and looked up.  Manny
was approaching him with his mother in tow.  "Mama!  This man, he
help me!  He show me th' jab!  Lois very smart, she show me how
to use it!  Thanks to them, I win tonight!"

The woman kissed Clark on either cheek and said something in
a language he didn't quite recognize.  He smiled at her and said,
"Manny is a good fighter.  He did very well tonight."

She nodded and said something else.  Manny laughed.  "She
say we go to her restaurant and celebrate!  We all go! Clark, you
bring the young lady!  We all go now!"

Clark looked at Lois, who had lost some of her glee at
Manny's victory.  He shrugged.  "Whatever Mama wants, Mama gets,
I guess.  Come, we all go to her restaurant to celebrate!"

Lois smiled crookedly.  "Right.  We'll all go in my Jeep.  I
can take all five of us."  She handed her keys to Lucy.  "Manny
will have to clean up and get checked by the doctor.  Take about
fifteen or twenty minutes.  Luce, will you bring my Jeep around
by the dressing room?  Manny's mama can wait with you."

Lucy looked closely at Lois, then nodded.  "Sure.  See you
soon, Clark."

Lois leaned towards Clark.  He expected to get a warning
about Lucy.

"Kent?"

"Yes?"

"You were absolutely right when you told Manny to use the
double fake.  I was about to yell it myself, but you beat me to
it by an eyelash.  You have a good eye, and that was exactly the
right time for it."  Her voice hardened.  "But don't ever - and I
mean ever - do that again.  I'm the manager, not you.  You were
here for exposure and experience, and that's all.  You will not -
I repeat - you will not coach any of my fighters, in or out of
the ring, unless you have direct instructions from me to do so. 
You understand me, Kent?"

Clark looked into her eyes.  Another time, he might have
seen tenderness and affection there, but what he actually saw
chilled even him.  He nodded slowly.  "Yes.  I understand."

"Good."  She backed up and smiled brightly.  "Now, we all go
to Mama's restaurant and celebrate!"


*****

Manny's mother was as good as her word.  They ate delicious
Greek and Italian food, drank small amounts of wonderful wine,
and learned the words but not the melody to a Hungarian folk
song.  It didn't help that they laughed more than they sang.

Finally Lois stood up.  "Folks, I really hate to break up
this gathering, because it's the most fun I've had in months, but
some of us have an early morning.  Mrs. Hershovitz, you are the
finest hostess in Metropolis by far!  I hope we have lots of
celebratory dinners here after Manny's fights.  He's talented and
determined, and if he keeps learning he'll make a name for
himself in his weight class.  Now, since it's already after
midnight - " a chorus of groans arose - "we're going to push
everybody's workout back to eight AM tomorrow.  Manny, you be
there too.  I want to check you over and make sure you're as okay
as you feel right now."

"Okay.  I be there, Ms. Lane."

"You too, Kent."

Clark nodded.  "I'll get there a little early and start on
breakfast."

Lois smiled at him.  "Sounds great!  Just make sure my
sister gets home safely.  And Lucy, don't keep Kent up too late
tonight."

Lucy blushed as the rest of the group poked gentle fun at
her.  Mrs. Hershovitz stood up and ran off a string of something
and made her way to the door.

Clark stood and offered his hand to Lucy.  "I suppose that
means `goodnight'."

Lucy stifled a yawn.  "I hope so.  I mean, I wouldn't have
missed this for the world, but I have to go to the office
tomorrow morning."

"On Saturday?"

"Yep.  Got to do a rewrite on an article on today's city
council meeting."

"Then allow me to walk you to your sister's vehicle."

She smiled.  "Thank you, kind sir, for taking care of a
poor, helpless maiden such as myself."

Clark smiled back as she took his arm.  They walked to the
Jeep and climbed into the back seat.  Lucy nestled her head on
Clark's shoulder and exhaled contentedly.

Lois climbed in the front and started off.  "Hey, Luce, you
writing the story on Manny's fight?"

"Nope.  Some new guy has it.  Name's Jim, or John, or
something like that.  He was at the arena taking pictures."

"Maybe you could contribute some human interest angle or
something."

Clark perked up.  "Lois, I didn't know you knew anything
about reporting."

She huffed.  "What little I know rubbed off from Lucy."

"Still, that's not a bad idea.  Lucy, you could at least
offer to help this guy."

Lucy yawned.  "Okay, Clark.  I'll offer.  Tomorrow morning."

Lois stopped at a traffic light.  "Hey, Luce?  You still
awake?"

"Umm.  Yeah.  Sorta."

"Why don't you come to the dojo after work on Monday?  See
how much you remember of your martial arts training."

"Martial arts?"  Clark looked at Lucy.  "You two are always
surprising me."

Lucy shook her head and put her hand on Clark's chest.  "I
only got to blue belt before I quit.  I didn't have the time to
keep it up."

"You do now, Sis.  Tell you what, I'll even teach you for
free for two months.  If you want to keep it up, we'll talk about
money then."

Lucy sat up and looked at Clark.  "What do you think?"

"I think your sister is making you a very good offer.  If
you're interested in keeping fit, I think it'd be something worth
exploring."

"What, you think I'm not fit?"

"Hey, Kent, you calling my sister fat?"

"I'm not fat!"

"I didn't say you were!  He did!"

"No, you did!"

"He said you weren't fit!"

"I'm fit!"

"For a couch potato, maybe!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Well, there's a snappy comeback!"

"Better than a snappy mouth!"

"Cut it out, Lucy, or I'll tell Dad!"

"So?"

"Ouch!  Yet another snappy comeback!"

"How about if I snap your - Clark, what are you doing?"

Clark had lifted the door handle.  "I'm bailing out.  I
think hitting the asphalt at fifty miles an hour might be safer
than being between you two."

"Kent!  Get your butt back in here right now!"  Lois brought
the Jeep to a screeching halt.  "I'm not risking my next
prospect!"  Clark closed the door.  "And quit smirking!"

He put on his best innocent puppy-dog face.  "Who, me?"

Lucy laughed and hugged his arm.  Lois drove off again at a
sane speed.

"Thanks for running interference between Lois and me, Clark. 
That's very sweet of you."

Lois chuckled.  "Actually, Luce, we haven't had a sisterly
argument like that for years.  That was kinda fun."

Lucy laughed.  "Yeah, it was.  Thanks, Clark."

"You're welcome.  Warn me next time and I'll bring a flak
jacket and a helmet."

They shared a laugh as Lois glided to a stop in front of
Lucy's apartment building.  "Okay, Sis, here you go.  Kent, you
gonna walk her to the door?"

Clark raised his eyebrows.  "I am now.  Come on, Lucy, I'll
try to protect you from stray cats and homeless puppies."

Lucy offered her hand.  "I thank you, kind sir.  Lois, I'll
see you Monday night if not before."

"Be there by seven.  That's the intermediate adult class. 
And review your stretching between now and then."

Lucy saluted.  "Yes ma'am!  Come on, Clark, walk me to my
door."

Clark extended his arm once again and escorted her up the
steps and into the front door of the brownstone.  He'd expected
that Lucy would let him go once they were out of Lois's line of
sight, but she hung on to him until they arrived at her door on
the third floor.

She fished her keys out of her purse and began the unlocking
process.  She was focused on the last lock as she said
offhandedly, "Lois will expect us to at least kiss good-night."

Clark looked down at her and grinned.  "True.  But I don't
want you to feel pressured into doing something you'd rather not
do."

She opened the door and smiled at him.  "Thank you."  She
pulled his face towards hers.  "But I don't feel pressured."

The kiss was soft and enjoyable, and Clark ended it before
Lucy would have preferred.  "Mmm, that was nice, but a little
short.  How's about a second chance at the brass ring, sailor?"

Clark leaned down and kissed her forehead.  "I think you had
too much wine and not enough bread tonight.  Get some sleep,
okay?"

"What's that quotation?  `A loaf of wine, a jug of bread,
and wow.'  Am I close?"

"Not very.  You need to climb into bed and close your eyes. 
Good night, Lucy."

She sighed.  "Okay.  Good night, pretty fighter."

"Go to sleep."  He pulled the door shut from the outside and
listened as she fastened the locks.  He smiled to himself and
headed down the stairway.

As he climbed into the passenger seat, Lois handed him a
tissue.  "Here.  You look like somebody kissed you."

"Thanks."

They drove in silence for a few blocks.  Lois fidgeted and
frowned.  Clark finally said, "So, Manny did well tonight."

Lois threw a surprised glance at him, then smiled.  "Yeah,
he did.  And you got to see how it's done in Metropolis."

Clark exhaled and stretched.  "Yep.  Hope I do as well as he
did."

"Me, too.  You've got three weeks to get ready."

Clark did a double-take.  "Three weeks?  I thought it was
six.  Are you serious?"

"Got the confirmation this afternoon.  You're on as one of
the preliminary bouts before Frank's fight.  You're taking on a
nineteen-year-old whiz-bang who's ranked third in the
cruiserweight division.  Name's Ben Piedmont.  He's taller than
you but thinner and not as strong, although he's no wuss.  Still,
I think you can take him."

He sat back and whistled.  "Wow.  Thanks."

"Don't thank me until you lift your gloves at the end of the
fight."

"I'll remember that."  He sat back.  "Third-ranked
cruiserweight.  Hey, how'd I rate a ranked opponent?  I don't
have any record."

"Piedmont was supposed to fight somebody else, but the guy
had to cancel.  He fell down a flight of stairs and broke both
his legs."

"Wow.  That's a tough break."

"That's a lousy pun, Kent."

"Sorry.  I wasn't trying to be funny."

"Don't worry, you weren't."

Clark frowned in thought.  "He fell down all by himself?"

Lois shrugged.  "That's what he said."  Clark didn't
respond.  "Hey, Kent, this is a tough business.  Not all the
people in it are as sweet and gentle as I am."

"That's good to know."

She waited for what was, to her, the next obvious question,
but it didn't come.  Finally she said, "You're a little old to be
so transparently naive, Kansas.  Don't you even want to know
about your payday?"

"Huh?  Oh, yeah.  How much do I get if I win?"

"It's a flat payment, not contingent on the outcome.  You
get seventy-five thousand for this fight."

Clark's eyes tried to push through his glasses.  He turned
to Lois and finally got control of his jaw.  "Did you - did you
say seventy-five thousand?  Dollars?"

"Yep.  You don't get to keep it all, of course.  My standard
is a sixty-forty split, and I get the sixty.  I pay all training
expenses, and you pay me back whatever I've advanced you before
the fight.  Since you haven't taken any advance money, at least
not so far, you don't owe me anything."

"So my payday would be - thirty grand!"

"Don't forget about Federal and state taxes, Medicare,
Social Security, and all that stuff.  I can put you in touch with
an honest accountant if you want.  He'll help you stay clear of
the IRS auditors.  They love to go after fighters and managers,
because it's so easy for us to cheat."  She snapped her fingers. 
"Oh, I almost forgot.  The state license fees and doctor's exams
are also sixty-forty, so that'll cut down on your payday some
more.  But you should clear at least eighteen grand, if not more,
which is not bad for five weeks of work.  We can sign the
contract tomorrow morning, unless you want a lawyer to look at it
first."


"Naw.  I trust you."  He whistled badly.  "Wow.  I'll have
to tell my folks.  They'll think I'm rich."

"Just be sure and duck when Piedmont throws his hard right
hand.  I don't want to have to scrape you up off the canvas."

They drove the rest of the way to Clark's apartment in
silence.  As she pulled to a stop, Lois said, "Kent, I don't want
to be the meddling big sister, but you'd better not hurt Lucy." 
She fixed him with a glare.  "I hope I don't have to say anything
else."

Clark looked directly into her eyes.  "I have no intention
of hurting Lucy.  I like her.  She's very nice."

Lois held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "Good. 
Then I'll see you in my office tomorrow morning at eight sharp."


*****

The following Monday afternoon, Clark approached Lois in
front of her office.  "Hey, Boss lady, mind if I ask a favor?"

"You can ask.  No promises, though."

"I'd like to observe your class tonight."

Lois lifted her eyebrows.  "I thought you'd have your fill
of this place for today."

He grinned.  "I'd like to watch you put Lucy through her
paces."

Lois frowned at him.  "No coaching her, Kent.  You got a bad
habit of helping when you don't need to."

He raised his hands.  "I'm a totally passive observer,
honest.  You won't hear a peep out of me.  And neither will
Lucy."

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded.  "If it's okay
with Lucy, it's okay with me."

"Thanks.  I'm heading out to grab some dinner.  I found a
nice Chinese place that has excellent takeout.  You want me to
bring you back something?"

"Chinese, huh?  Sure."  She reached into her pocket.

Clark waved her off.  "No, no, my treat.  You want anything
in particular or should I just bring back a sample of
everything?"

She shrugged.  "Sample, I guess.  Just don't take too long."

"I won't.  I'll be back by five-thirty."

He turned and trotted out the front door.  Lois walked into
her office and was startled to find Lex Luthor leaning back in
her chair.  Nigel stood beside Luthor's right shoulder, hands
crossed in front of him.

"I'll have to talk to Elmer about who or what he allows in
here."

"Please don't be vexed with Elmer, Lois.  He really did try
to stop us.  Nigel convinced him that we had an appointment."

"I'll bet he did."  She slapped the folder she was carrying
down on the desk.  "Lex, I've told you I don't like it when you
just appear in my office like this!  Why can't you knock on the
door like a normal person?"

"I'm truly sorry, my dear.  I came by to ask you two
things."

"And they are?"

"Would you care to observe the Messenger launch with me this
Thursday morning?  I'll be hosting a celebratory brunch for my
staff and some special friends."  His rugged, tanned face smiled
warmly.

"Thursday morning?  What time?"

"The launch is scheduled for eleven-forty-five, I believe. 
We plan to begin our festivities at ten-thirty sharp."

"I dunno, Lex.  I got two fighters to get ready for fights
two weeks from Friday.  One of them needs a lot of work.  He's
still pretty raw."

"I understand.  I'll make sure security has your photo in
their database in case you change your mind."

She was puzzled by his easy acceptance of her refusal. 
"Thanks.  I can't promise anything, but I'll see what I can do."

"That's more than fair.  The other question is much easier. 
Will you do me the honor of having dinner with me tonight?"

"Tonight?  I have to teach a class at seven and I have legal
papers to go over after that!  I can't go out to dinner tonight! 
Besides, one of my guys is already bringing back Chinese
takeout."

"Ah, yes, your new fighter, the Kansas Tornado."

Lois frowned.  "He hasn't even fought yet, Lex.  Let him
earn his nickname."

Lex smiled and stood.  "As you wish, my dear.  Perhaps
another night would be more convenient?"

Lois canted her hips and smiled fetchingly.  "I'm free
Wednesday evening."

Now Lex frowned.  "That is indeed a charming invitation. 
Regrettably, I'm leaving before dawn tomorrow to be in Gotham
City until late Wednesday.  I have a number of meetings I must
attend.  Pressing business, I'm afraid."


"Gee, Lexie, I'm sorry.  Maybe I'll see you at your launch
party on Thursday?"

"I hope so.  Since our schedules refuse to coincide, Lois,
we'll leave you to your work.  Good night."

"G'night, Lex.  Watch him good, Nigel."

Nigel nodded to her and preceded Lex to the door.  As he
opened it, Clark walked in, carrying several containers, all of
which emitted enticing aromas.

"Oh!  Thanks, pal.  Hey, Lois, I got it.  Dinner's on."

She smiled at him.  "Thanks, Clark.  That smells delicious."

"If it's up to Madame Chung's usual standards, it is."  He
put the containers on the desk and wiped his hand on his jeans. 
"Hi.  I'm Clark Kent.  You must be Lex Luthor.  Glad to meet
you."

Lex hesitated, then took Clark's extended hand.  Then he
flinched as Clark squeezed.  "Pleased - to meet you too - Mr.
Kent."  Clark let go, and Lex tried to hide the pain in his hand. 
"I'm sorry we can't stay.  Ms. Lane has a class to teach soon,
and I have business interests which cannot wait."

"Sure!  I understand.  Hey, you guys be careful out there. 
This isn't the safest neighborhood in town."

Nigel smiled condescendingly.  "I believe that Mr. Luthor
and I are safe enough."

Clark shrugged.  "That's what I thought, too, but I just had
a run-in with a wise guy around the corner."

Lois grabbed his arm.  "What happened?  Are you hurt? You
didn't break your hand, did you?"

Still flexing his own offended limb, Lex said, "Lois, I can
assure you that Mr. Kent did not break his hand."

"Good."  She let him go and crossed her arms.  "So what
happened?"

"Well, the guy was tailing me when I left here, so I turned
into an alley real quick, and when he followed me in I grabbed
him.  I called the cops and they took ol' Malcolm to the nearest
precinct."

Lois squeaked, "What?  You knew this guy?"

"Never saw him before.  He told me his name."

Lex raised his eyebrows.  "He simply volunteered his name?"

Clark crossed his arms over his chest and loomed at Lex. 
"After I encouraged him to, yes, he did."

"I - see.  Well, Nigel, thanks to Mr. Kent, the neighborhood
is a safer place.  Shall we go now?"

Nigel nodded and opened the door.  Lex kissed Lois's hand. 
"Good night, my dear."  He turned to Clark, who offered his hand
to be kissed also.  The corners of Lex's mouth twitched downwards
and he blinked twice.  "Good night, Mr. Kent."

"Bye, Lex.  Have a safe trip."

"Thank you."  He swept out with Nigel in tow.

As the door closed, Lois burst out laughing.  "I thought Lex
was gonna lose his cool when you offered him your hand!  You're
walking a fine line, there, Kent."

Clark began opening the takeout containers.  "Too bad he
didn't take my hand.  I was gonna curtsy."

Lois laughed again.  As she did, however, she remembered
that Lex had mentioned that he had business interests that
couldn't wait.  Yet he'd invited her out to dinner.  It was one
more brick in the edifice of suspicion Lois was building in her
mind around Lex Luthor.


*****

Lex sat back against the seat.  Nigel sat across from him,
frowning.  Lex finally asked, "Was this Malcolm one of your
recruits, Nigel?"

"No, sir.  I believe he was three levels down.  The worst he
could do would be to point to a voice on the telephone which
spoke with an American Southern accent.  The telephone company
records would reveal that the calls originated from a particular
cell phone owned by a Mr. John Smith, whose subsequent calls will
be answered only by the fish at the bottom of Hobb's Bay."

"The phone is there now?"

"Within the hour, sir."  He held up another phone.  "I made
the call before we left the area of the gymnasium."

"Good."  Lex turned and opened his briefcase.  "How is the
Messenger project coming?"

"We're completely ready, sir.  The device will be placed on
the shuttle Thursday morning, approximately four hours prior to
liftoff.  It will disable the fuel flow to the shuttle's engines
once it reaches an altitude of eighty-eight miles."

Luthor smiled and nodded.  "Much more dramatic than a bomb,
eh, Nigel?  Blowing it up on the launching pad would simply bring
attention back to Platt and his allegations of sabotage.  This
will be much more dramatic.  They will be too high and moving too
fast to eject safely, and too low to achieve orbit.  The
resulting long fall and crash of the shuttle loaded with
colonists will make for tragic television."

"And even more interest in Space Station Luthor, which is
almost ready for deployment."

"Quite right, Nigel."  He paused and thought for a moment. 
"I think we should make certain the good Dr. Platt doesn't make a
nuisance of himself after this incident. Please make certain he's
out of the picture."

"Permanently, sir?"

Lex raised his eyebrows.  "Try a financial solution first. 
If he refuses to see the light, well, then, make sure he - "
Luthor smiled and cocked his head to one side. " - sees the
light."

"Very well, sir.  I will take care of it personally."

"Thank you, Nigel."  Luthor rummaged in his briefcase and
opened a folder, then frowned.

"The boxing promotion deal, sir?"

"I'm afraid so.  Lois Lane is still inspiring resistance
among the various fight managers in the region.  The time has
come to bring her into the fold.  Nigel, will you arrange a -
conversation - between Mr. Kent and one of our better
operatives?"

Nigel blinked.  "Mr. Kent, sir?  Not Ms. Lane?"

Luthor's face hardened.  "Kent.  Ms. Lane is not to be
harmed, either deliberately or accidentally."

"Of course, sir.  Should Mr. Kent have an accident, or
should this be a somewhat more obvious demonstration?"

"An accident.  Wait!"  Luthor pursed his lips and thought
for a moment.  "No.  Have your operative threaten Ms. Lane.  Mr.
Kent will hear of it, and his chivalrous impulses will force him
to offer his protection.  Our operative - perhaps there should be
a team, Nigel - the operatives will then separate Ms. Lane from
Mr. Kent and administer to him a sound thrashing."

Nigel smiled slightly.  "Well put, sir.  I shall put the
plan in motion this evening.  Do you have a preferred time for
completion?"

"Tomorrow evening, early rather than late, if possible. 
Definitely before we return from our summit."

"Very good, sir.  I shall see to it."

"Thank you, Nigel.  Oh, one more thing."

"Yes, sir?"

Luthor opened a panel in the arm of the car seat.  He lifted
out a large, menacing revolver and handed it to Nigel.  "Please
have the lead operative use this weapon.  It's my personal
favorite, actually, and it might bring the operation some good
luck.  Besides, the large caliber will help to cow an unarmed
opponent.  I know from experience that a man who looks down the
barrel of a fifty-caliber pistol is far less likely to play the
hero than a man facing a mere thirty-eight special."

"Very good, sir.  An effective touch."

Luthor sat back, satisfied with the plan, even while
regretting the necessity for it.  He'd believed that Lois would
fall at his feet after the first few dates; instead, she'd
demonstrated a surprising amount of maturity and resilience. 
Instead of becoming angry at being snubbed, she'd smiled and
responded in kind.  Once, a half-drunken man had tried to pin her
against a wall and force his attention on her.  Luthor wondered
if he'd recovered the use of his arm by now.  Compound fractures
were often quite nasty.

The plan he'd put into motion had the added benefit of
getting rid of Lois's new fighter, which would both remove a
source of income and confidence from her, and repay the young
farmer for the unforgivable slight he'd delivered to Luthor.  It
worked out quite well all the way around.


*****

Clark sat in a chair against the far wall and watched the
class members drift in.  Most of them went directly to the locker
rooms to change.  Elmer made sure that everyone's name was on the
list.  The old man intrigued Clark; he'd have to learn more about
him.  He acted dumb, but he surely wasn't.

Then Lucy came in, already wearing her uniform.  Of the
sixteen members of the class, she was one of the shortest.  As it
turned out, she also held the highest color belt in the class,
even though she hadn't kept up her studies.

Lois led the class through stretching, then simple
calisthenics, and then paired them off to practice specific
kicks.  Lucy was matched up with a tall, thin, rangy man with a
green belt who carried himself like a bully.

Lois called out to them.  "Okay. Everybody get ready.  Front
stance and rear leg round kick.  Front stance is left foot
forward, Glenn, even if you're left-handed.  See if you can knock
your partner back a step.  But don't miss the target bag!  And
make sure you keep your hands up and ready to block.  When you
get ten kicks in, switch to reverse stance with ten more rear leg
round kicks, other leg this time.  Aim for the emblem on the bag. 
Okay, go!"

Lois wandered from pair to pair, making adjustments and
giving encouragement.  Clark was once again impressed with her
teaching style.  She was both approachable and authoritative,
something that none of the Oriental masters he'd known had been
able to achieve.  They were either friendly and cajoling, or they
were stern and forbidding.  Somehow, Lois managed to be all of
that.  He admired her for it.

Lucy held her bag in front of her and waited for her partner
to kick.  It covered her body from neck to mid-thigh, and was
wider than her shoulders.  Her partner shouldn't have missed his
target.

But he did.  On the seventh kick of his second set, his foot
skipped over the top of the pad and clipped a diving Lucy on the
ear.  Clark believed it was deliberate, but he restrained himself
from interfering.  Lois stopped the class and stalked over.

"Hey!  Eric!  You're not supposed to kick your partner! Kick
the pad!  The pad!  Got it?"

Eric grinned and nodded.  "Just got away from me. Sorry."

"Uh-huh.  You hurt, Lucy?"

Lucy stood and flipped her braid over her shoulder.  "No. 
Just surprised."

"Good.  Eric, take the pad."

"Huh?  Wait a minute, she's my partner, not you!"

Lois patted him on the shoulder.  "Don't worry, tough guy,
I'm not gonna touch you.  She's going to show you how it's done."

Lucy's eyes opened wider, but other than that she didn't
react.  She set her stance and said, "Pad ready?"

Eric answered, "Yeah, it's - oof!"  Lucy's kick was so fast
that Eric didn't see it coming.

Lois called out, "Again!"

The pad bounced against Eric's chin.  "Hey!"

"Again!"

This time she drove it against his chest.  Eric took a half-
step back.  "Hey, this little gal can - "

"Again!"

This kick was harder yet.  Eric staggered back towards
Clark.  He barely kept his balance.

Lois yelled, "Double!"

Lucy threw another rear leg round kick into the pad, stepped
forward on that foot, and threw a rear leg round kick from a
reverse stance, all in less than a second.  Her left foot struck
Eric in the middle of the back and dropped him to his knees.

Eric dropped the pad, held up his hand, and called, "Time
out!"  Then he grabbed his back and groaned.

Lois crossed her arms and stood next to him.  "Blue belt is
higher than green belt for a reason, Eric.  She's just now
starting up again, but she earned her rank.  I'd advise you to
stop trying to show off and start trying to learn."

Eric nodded and groaned again.  "I think I need some water."

Lucy nodded.  "I'll get you some.  Come with me, tough guy." 
Eric rose with difficulty and followed her to the dojo's
kitchenette.

Lois shook her head and wandered over to stand beside Clark. 
"The rest of you, get back to it.  You probably forgot where you
were, so start over.  And make then snap like Lucy was doing!" 
To Clark, she muttered, "Lucy's gonna take in a cold coral snake
one of these days."

Clark looked up.  "Lucy collects snakes?"

"No, genius.  You remember the song about the snake?  A
woman finds a pretty snake on the ground one day, almost frozen. 
She brings it home, lets it warm up by the fire, and then puts it
on as a belt because it looked so cute.  She doesn't realize it's
poisonous.  Naturally, the snake bites her.  As she's dying, she
asks the snake why it would do such a thing to her when she'd
helped it so much.  The snake tells her, `You knew what I was
when you brought me home.  You shouldn't be surprised.'"

Clark nodded.  "There's an old Native American folk tale
about a frog helping a scorpion cross a stream.  Same outcome,
same moral."  He looked up at her.  "So, you think I'm poison for
Lucy?"

Lois started.  "What?  No!  No, that's not what I meant at
all!  You - I was just talking about her being so naive about
people.  Eric won't stop being a bully just because she gets him
water."

"You never know.  He might understand what you were trying
to teach him."

"Yeah, maybe.  I hope so.  Anyway, Lucy isn't the most
careful person in the world when it comes to relationships."

"I see.  So, you think I should carry a snakebite kit?"

She pointed her index finger at his face.  "Don't push too
hard, Kent, or we'll have you out there in Eric's place."  She
looked up and saw that several of the pairs were finished. 
"Later.  Gotta go back to work."


*****

Clark was waiting for Lucy as she came out of the locker
room.  "Hey, Clark!  Whaddya think of my big sister as a
teacher?"

"She's very good.  She knows how to do it and how to
communicate it, and not many can do both equally well.  And
you're not bad yourself, you know."  He smiled and touched her
hair.  "You took down your braid."

She smiled back.  "Glad you noticed.  It was just for the
class.  Sometimes I just pull it back in a rubber band."

"It looks nice like this."

Lucy's smile softened.  "Why - thank you, Clark."  She
nestled against his arm, and he moved it around her shoulders.

Lois came out of the office and saw them standing together. 
She felt a pang of something she didn't recognize and didn't
particularly like.  Because of the difference in their ages, she
and Lucy hadn't competed for the same boys when they were young,
and they hadn't gotten along very well as adults until Clark Kent
had entered their lives.  Somehow, he had managed to soften both
of them, and the sisters were getting along better than they had
since before their mother had died.  She was grateful for that.

But she also felt something akin to envy.  Her sister had a
nice guy holding her close, one who was apparently trustworthy in
every sense of the word.  He'd sat still, even when Eric had
clipped Lucy.  Lois didn't think anyone else had caught the
sudden tension in his face, or the quick tautness of his hands,
but he'd mastered his impulse to `help' and let Lois handle the
situation, just as he'd said he would.

And he was easy to talk to.  He didn't condescend to her or
patronize her, even though she could tell he had a much wider
education than she'd had.  He was willing to listen to her, and
not many men fell into that category.  Most of the time, she'd
have to continually ask herself if a guy was trustworthy or what.

Like Lex.  He was more in the `or what' category, and
getting deeper every day.  After Kid Wilson's manager Mike
McGowan was run down by a van a few weeks before, there had been
rumors and murmurs that his near-fatal accident was really
deliberate.  Lois didn't know if the rumors were true, nor did
she know that Lex was involved, but she trusted him less every
day.

And every day, she trusted Kent a little more.  What a crazy
world.

She walked towards them.  "Hey, you two, you need a ride? 
I'm about to lock up, but I can take you home if you want."

Lucy turned to Lois with glowing eyes and bright smile. "I'm
gonna let Clark walk me home.  Thanks, though."

Lois caught Clark's eye, and he nodded.  "I'll protect her,
Lois, if she'll protect me too."

Lois showed them a bright grin.  "Okey-dokey.  Just be here
tomorrow at six for more roadwork.  There's a lot more to boxing
than romancing your manager's sister."


*****

The two of them slowly and somewhat aimlessly meandered back
to Lucy's brownstone.  On the way, Clark told her about Kansas
and some of the funny things that he'd seen and done on the farm. 
Lucy laughed at all of his anecdotes, and stayed close beside him
the whole time.

"You know, Lucy, people in Smallville don't necessarily
think this stuff is as hysterical as you do."

"But it's great!  You should write it up and query a
publisher.  I bet they'd buy it.  City people like to laugh at
their country cousins."

"Oh.  Well, maybe I should include some of the spectacularly
dumb things city people do when they visit farms."

"Like what?"

"Like trying to milk a ram."

Lucy stared at him blankly.  "What's a ram?"

"A male sheep."

"Oh.  You mean they - you mean someone actually - someone
tried to - "

"Yep.  Didn't work."

"Can you even milk a sheep?"

"You can, but it's a lot like teaching a pig to sing.  You
don't get very good results, and it just irritates the animal all
to pieces."

They shared another laugh.  Lucy looked up and found herself
in front of her building.

"Hey.  We're here."

He scraped the sidewalk with his foot.  "Yep.  Here we are."

They stood fidgeting at each other for several moments, then
Lucy said, "Oh, Clark, come on in, willya?"

He stopped.  "Lucy, you don't have to pretend now.  No one's
watching."

She stepped close to him and put her hands on his chest. 
"I'm not pretending, Clark."  She took his hand and led him
towards the steps.  "Now come on in before dawn breaks."

"It's only eight-forty.  It won't be dawn for hours yet."

"Gripe, gripe, gripe, that's all you do."

"Lucy, I've told you a million times not to exaggerate."

"You haven't known me for a million minutes yet."

"I know."  He stopped and took both of her hands.  "That's
why - I think - maybe - maybe I shouldn't come in.  Not tonight."

"Oh."  Her face fell.  "You don't - I mean, yeah, of course,
you don't want to pretend all the time."  She stepped back. 
"Sure, yeah.  I understand.  We're not really dating, it's just a
ruse to protect us from the bad guys.  I remember.  It's just
that you're such a nice guy, and they don't grow on trees, at
least not around here.  Maybe in Kansas they do but - "

"Lucy, I didn't mean to - "

"Go on home, Clark.  Thanks for walking with me."

"Lucy - "

She turned and bounced up the steps.  "It's okay.  I'll talk
to you tomorrow or the next day.  Good night."

He watched her shut the outer door of the building a little
harder than necessary.  Great, he thought, I've just hurt her
feelings, and just when I thought we were becoming friends. 
Maybe Lois was right about Lucy, that she trusted too easily. 
Maybe she gave her heart too quickly, too.

And maybe his own heart was a little unsettled.


*****

Lois got out of bed the next morning more easily than usual. 
She flipped on the lights and started the coffee pot that Elmer
had prepared before he'd left the night before.  She caught
herself humming tunelessly to no one and laughed.  Then she saw
the clock.

It was only five-thirty in the morning.

She smiled.  She hadn't laughed or even smiled at five-
thirty in the morning for years.  She felt wonderful and didn't
know why.  She just knew that Clark was coming to make breakfast
for them and do road work with her.  Oh, yes, Frank would be
there too, but he was just a friend and Clark was -

She stopped suddenly.  Clark was her sister's boyfriend. 
She and Lucy were actually getting along for the first time in
years.  She couldn't mess that up.  She needed some family
contact, and for the first time in years she wanted it.

She refused to hurt her sister any more.  She'd make sure
Kent didn't get any mixed messages from her.  No way, no how. 
It'd be all business from here on out.

The front door opened and she turned.  Frank and Clark
walked in together.  Clark nodded and grunted to her, then headed
directly to the kitchen.  Lois looked at Frank and raised her
hands, then pointed at the kitchen door.

Frank shrugged.  "I picked him up this morning, like usual. 
He was carrying a bag of oranges, as is not unusual.  He also
brought down a half-dozen fresh donuts, as usual. He offered me
my choice, as usual.  After that, he clammed up and didn't say a
word, as is totally not usual."

Lois frowned.  "He walked Lucy home last night.  I hope
nothing's wrong there."

"Won't know unless he decides to tell us."

"True.  Here's a cup of Elmer's best."

Frank frowned and refused.  "I'll wait for Clark's coffee if
you don't mind."

She gave him a warning look.  "Elmer's the one you have to
watch out for, not me.  You're on your own there."

They sat at the breakfast table and waited.  Soon, Clark
brought ham and eggs, and today he'd made biscuits.  He put the
food tray on the table and added the seasonings for the breakfast
from the other tray, including a carafe of coffee and a large
pitcher of cold orange juice.

"Thanks, Clark.  I really like that juice."

Clark nodded morosely.  "Thanks, Frank."

"I can never get any this fresh-tasting except here.  What's
your secret?"

"Fresh fruit."

"Oh."  When Clark didn't elaborate, Frank went on.  "Where
do you find them?"  Clark didn't answer.  "Clark?  Hey, Clark!"

"What?  I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked you where you got your fruit so fresh."

"Oh."  He shrugged.  "You just have to know where to look, I
guess."

Lois and Frank fell to breakfast with a will, but Clark just
picked at his food.  Lois finally said, "Kent, you don't eat, you
won't have the energy to work out today."

"Uh-huh."

Lois stared at Clark, who was moving his eggs around on the
plate, and slapped her knife down.  "Okay, out with it."

"What?"

"Tell me what's bothering you."

"Oh, I don't think I should - "

"Wrong answer, farm boy.  You train with me, you tell me
when you have a problem.  Now spill it."

"Lois, I really don't - "

"It's Lucy, isn't it?  Lucy is the problem."  He flinched. 
From Clark's reaction, she figured she'd nailed it.  She sighed. 
"You spent the night with her last night and now you're worried
about how I'll react."  She forced her anger down.  "Don't worry. 
My sister is an adult.  She does what she wants to do, and she
doesn't clear it with me.  Just remember that I told you not to
hurt her.  You do right by her, you hear me?"

"But it's not what you think - "

She slapped her hand on the table.  "I told you to do right
by her!"

"I did!"

Lois glared at him.  "You did right but still you're upset?"

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"You wanna explain that one to me?"

"Not really."

Her voice promised intimate pain.  "Do it anyway."

Clark locked eyes with Lois, but he blinked first.  "Okay. 
You asked for it.  I walked her home.  We had fun.  We laughed
and told each other jokes and I didn't want to leave.  She
invited me inside and I said no and she got - "

"WHAT!?"

Lois's outburst startled both Clark and Frank.  Frank stood
and said, "Excuse me, I'm gonna make sure the stove is off."

"I already turned it off, Frank!"

"Can't be too careful."  And he disappeared behind the
kitchen door.

Lois stood and leaned over the table.  "Tell me all that one
more time, a little slower."

Clark sighed.  "When Lucy and I got to her front door, she
kind of invited me in.  I told her we hadn't known each other
long enough to - to be - "

Lois waved her hands in front of his face.  "Wait.  Let me
get this straight.  Lucy invited you in and you turned her down
and now you're depressed?"

"No.  I mean, yes, but effect doesn't follow cause."

Lois blinked.  "What the heck does that mean?"

"I don't regret not going in with her.  I regret that she
didn't understand, that she took it personally.  All I meant for
her to hear was that I don't think men and women should be casual
about sex.  It's too important to be random or accidental.  I
like Lucy too much to treat her like a convenience.  If I'm
depressed, it's because Lucy's feelings got hurt, and that's the
last thing I wanted to do."

Lois crossed her arms and glared at him.  "Are you telling
me you think Lucy was inviting you into her bedroom?  You think
she does this with every guy she goes out with?  Were you
expecting to follow a trail of her clothes through the hallway
and to the bed?"

"No!  I mean, I don't know, not for sure.  I didn't want to
get into a situation where that might happen, at least not until
we know each other a whole, whole lot better."  He leaned back
and returned her glare.  "Lucy is a nice girl.  I want to be her
friend.  She's very intelligent, very sweet, and very trusting. 
I don't intend to betray that trust, not now, not ever."

"Oh."  She sat down.  "I see.  I think."

"Maybe I should call Lucy and talk to her."

"Mmm.  Or maybe you should let me.  You know, sister to
sister."

Clark's brow furrowed in thought.  "You know her better than
I do.  If you think that's the best way to - "

"Yes.  I do.  Come on, finish your breakfast.  I'll pry
Frank out of the kitchen and we'll head out."

"You sure?  It looked like a thunderstorm was coming in from
the west.  Lots of lightning."

She frowned.  Running in the rain didn't bother her, but
lightning could be a big problem.  "I'll check the weather
forecast.  If it's like you say, we got stationary bikes and lots
of jump ropes."  Just then a huge streak of lightning speared the
sky, accompanied by an express train rumble.  Lois nodded. 
"Okay.  Bikes and ropes today, fellas.  Indoors we will stay. 
Hope you like to hop, Kent."


*****

They did two hours of riding nowhere and hopping over
nothing at a quick pace before Lois called for a ten-minute rest. 
Clark and Frank each grabbed for water and a place to sit down. 
Lois went into her office and closed the door.

She hesitated, then called Lucy's number at the Planet.  Her
sister was at her desk.

"Lucy Lane, Daily Planet."

"Luce, this is Lois."

"Oh.  Hi.  This is a surprise."

"Yeah.  Listen, I really don't wanna interfere - "

"Then don't."

"You don't even know what I'm gonna say."

"Doesn't matter.  If you don't want to interfere, then you
shouldn't."

Lois sighed.  "If it was just me and you, Sis, I'd hang up
right now, but this concerns one of my fighters."

Lucy hesitated.  "I assume you're referring to Clark Kent."

"Well, duh.  Unless some other boxer from my gym walked you
home last night."

Her voice hardened.  "What did lover boy tell you?"

"Lover boy?"

"He didn't tell you about last night?  Man, Lois, we were up
past three, just trying new things on each other.  I've never
been so excited for so long in all my life!  I think I just about
used him up.  Don't work him too hard today or he's liable to
fall over dead."

Lois waited, listening to Lucy breathing into the phone. 
"You done now?"

"Done?  Not me.  He quit before I did.  Lois, did I ever
tell you about how he - "

"Stop it, Lucy.  He told me he left you at the front door."

Lucy quit breathing for a moment, then said, "Yep, that's
what happened, all right.  Sex Kitten Lucy Lane, that's me.  I
can turn them off quicker than my desk lamp."

"You can stow the self-pity too."


"What am I supposed to think, Lois?  I invited him in and he
said no!  He turned me down!  How am I supposed to react?"

"You should thank him."

"What?"

Lois blew out a breath.  "Look, Lucy, the reason he didn't
go home with you last night is because he respects you and likes
you.  If something does happen between you, he wants it to be
special, and I think he'd also want it to be permanent."

Lois listened to Lucy breathe for several seconds. "Luce,
are you still there?"

"I'm here, Lois.  Are you on the level with this? You're not
snowing me, are you?"

"Of course not.  I told Kent I'd call you for him.  He was
gonna do it, but I figured he'd get too soft and squishy and mess
it up.  You should feel doubly lucky."

Lucy sniffed once.  "Thanks, Lois.  That means a lot to me."

Lois was both pleased and uncomfortable.  "No problem.  Hey,
I gotta go to the jane.  Talk to you later."

"Okay.  Hey, tell Clark I'll call him later this afternoon."

"Sure.  I hope he can stay awake that long, after you used
him up last night."

Lucy laughed.  "Oh, Lois!  Now I'm blushing."

"Good.  Next time don't try to lie to your big sister."

"I won't.  Bye."

"Bye, Sis."  Lois hung up and realized that they hadn't
threatened each other with death, dismemberment, or exquisite
torture.  That hadn't happened for a long time, either.  She
hoped that Kent stayed around for a while, if only to help keep
the peace between them.

She pushed the twang in her heart aside.  She wanted Clark
and Lucy to be happy together, if that was what they both wanted,
and it sure seemed like it was what Lucy wanted.  She wasn't sure
what Clark wanted, but she believed now that he wouldn't try to
play her or stay with her under false pretenses.

If only she could control her own feelings for him.  The
last thing she wanted to do was to break them up or cause
problems for them.  Kent was just such a whale of a nice guy.

She heard voices outside the office, more than should have
been there.  She walked out and saw two men talking to Clark and
Frank.  Clark was standing with his arms crossed, which seemed to
be his standard leave-me-alone posture.  Frank was gesturing with
and at the other two men.  The short, thin man was a stranger to
her, but she knew the tall, gray-headed man with the mustache.

Joy of joys.  Her father had come to visit.

Sam Lane was trying to play peacemaker between Frank and the
short man.  Lois didn't like their body language; they were all
too angry.

"Hey!  What's going on here?"

The four of them turned towards the sound of her voice.  Sam
turned to his companion and said, "Now, Shorty, let me handle
this."

Shorty frowned and nodded, then turned to face Frank and
Clark.  They formed a rough triangle, with Shorty standing at the
apex and trying to keep his attention on both of them at once.

"Lois, baby!  You're safe!  I'm so glad!"

"What?  Why shouldn't I be safe?"

Sam goggled at her.  "Haven't you heard?  Someone's made a
threat against you!  It's all over the grapevine! I'm surprised
no one told you."

She looked up and saw Elmer shuffle in, carrying what
appeared to be a long stick in one hand.  "Miz Lois, they a
problem?"

"No, Elmer, I got this one.  Thanks."

"If you say so."  He hefted the double-barreled shotgun and
broke open the action.  Shorty stared at him.  "Hey, she don't
lemme carry the machine gun no more.  Cain't let go o' the
trigger quick enough.  Like t' cut a man in half las' year."  He
flipped the weapon closed with one hand.

Elmer held Shorty's gaze for a moment, then smiled and
shuffled towards the front door.  He never took his eyes off
Shorty, and Shorty was suddenly extremely nervous.

"Hey, Doc, let's get outta here, okay?"

"In a minute!  Lois, be careful.  Somebody doesn't like you,
and whoever it is wants to hurt you."

"I think I can