[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/FTYS5pY.png[/img][/center]
[color=DARKGRAY][i][color=f7a954]"Good morning, Metropolis!"[/color][/i]

Aboard the Lex-7 Series G Monorail was a glimpse of the variety of citizens on their post-sunrise commute to work. While some were still using the twenty-minute, fully suspended ride above Centennial Park to catch up on some desperately missing hours of sleep, there were also those in the back of the car who subtly worked on tidying themselves up for the office. Teenagers and children, some attended to by a parent while others woefully weren't, lined the side seats. And then some were forced to stand, each a variety of unkempt or visibly exhausted, journeying on their way back from working the overnight shift in either Suicide Slums or the neighboring county of Midvale. Very few would ever speak to eachother, inherently understanding the intricacies of the early morning etiquette: don't speak, never stare, and most importantly of all, absolutely do not bother. This was a brief break from the crushing realities of trying to live in a place that prided itself on being "The City Of Tomorrow." Where the jobs - when you were fortunate enough to find them - worked you past your limits to just to earn a decent living.

Clark Kent knew this. He'd been living around it his entire life. Too many people are overworked, and never in a position to break up the cycle. Even as he stood quietly at the back of the car -with his arm pressed against a guard rail, preparing to exit for his forthcoming stop - he could tell that this was going to be an all-too-repetitious morning commute if he didn't take some time to plan out a better route to the new job. 

[i][color=f7a954]"This is Cat Grant, and you're watching us live, right here in the heart of beautiful downtown New Troy! As always, I'm here to bring you the best - and juiciest - stories from all across the Big Apricot, brought to you from the ever-reliable newsdesk of The Daily Planet News Network. So as we always say here at Good Morning, Metropolis, on with the show!"[/color][/i]

Clark raised his eyebrows, genuinely impressed with the boundless energy on display from the woman on the overhead television. More impressed when he suddenly remembered that, technically, she was now his co-worker - or he was her's. In truth, Kent figured that he was too low on the totem pole - it was debatable if he was even really considered an employee of DPNN. And much to his annoyance, he still hadn't built up enough accreditation [i]or[/i] experience to go out and secure a job that suited him better. Nor could he exactly list his particular skills on an application with any relevance.

The meekly mild-mannered intern had been suggesting to his mother that he take his driver's exam and save up enough money for a starter car, but she always had two counters to that: one, having a car in a city like Metropolis would only make things slower. The reason that the Lex-7 had become such a widely used method of transport is because the city was notoriously drowning in traffic every day. Even with widened lanes and some of the finest subway terminals in the country, too many people were out there at any given time. By the time Clark would leave his apartment and make it to the Ordway Bridge, just East of New Troy, he'd be risking an hour and a half travel at [i]minimum[/i].

[i][color=white]"Hey, buddy. Sorry to bother ya, but I couldn't help but notice... s'that a Luthorcorp badge?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. I work in their IT department."
"Nice. Must be a sweet gig."[/color][/i]

Clark snuck a glance over at a couple of seats in the front, inadvertently picking up the conversation of their occupants. One of them was visibly a construction worker or something similar, while the other was dressed in a well-kept suit and tie. Very much on two opposite sides of the income bracket, and it was almost comforting to see them have to take the same public transport.

[i][color=white]"So, hate to bother ya again, but I was curious..."
"What do you want to know?"
"Well, the thing they keep sayin' on the news. About those hackings. The guy sounds dangerous."
"Oh, the guy on YouTube? Nah, I don't pay attention to it. He's just some nutcase who's got a beef with the guy that runs the place. And even if he was dangerous, us wage-slaves are below his priorities."
"Huh. Guess that makes sense. Still, you guys aren't a little spooked?"
"Hardly. We get death threats every time Mr. Luthor announces a new military contract. It's always just a bunch of noise by a few trolls online."
"That's a relief. They played some of his latest video on last night's Daily Planet. Sounded like he was gonna bomb the building or something."
"Not likely. Eventually the 'Toyman' or whatever he's calling himself will find something else to complain about."[/color][/i]

Clark turned away, trying to prevent himself from staring too long. From the sound of it, it wasn't a matter that concerned him anyway. The man working for Luthorcorp said it best, those sorts of people always seem like they're trying to vent entirely unrelated frustrations out on the world. There was always a part of Clark that felt deeply uncomfortable with his own inherent curiosities, that even listening to such a passive public conversation was some deeper violation than it was. But that just made him think of his mother's [i]second[/i] counterpoint to getting a license.

Being that he didn't need to do any of it. By the time that he'd stepped out of his front door, he could be infront of The Daily Planet News Network's building in seconds. A minute, tops. He could vault through the air and supplant several football fields. He could zip through traffic so fast that he'd be virtually invisible. There were many options, and Clark knew that she was right. But what she could never understand - what nobody had ever been capable of understanding - was that little gestures like this were what made Clark feel the most at peace. The normalcy of just having to go to work in the morning, doing it like everyone else did. If he didn't have this, he would never know what to do with himself. 

Sure, he could defy the laws of physics by simply willing himself off the ground. He could probably even outrun a speeding locomotive, as his father used to joke to him when he was a kid. But in a city that was constantly monitored by camera drones, a result of Lex Luthor's well-known paranoia following the meteor attack of '94? Clark might aswell paint a target on his chest and strap a neon sign to his waist. 

[i][color=0694d4]Or wear a big bright cape[/color][/i], he thought to himself with a quiet smirk. 

No, this was how it had to be. He just had to get used to the flow of it and adapt, like he'd always done before.

[sup][b][color=white][i]ATTENTION. 
WE WILL BE ARRIVING IN THE DISTRICT OF... 
PLASTINO HEIGHTS. 
IN ONE MINUTE.
IF THIS IS YOUR STOP, PLEASE PREPARE FOR IMMEDIATE DEPARTURE.[/i][/color][/b][/sup]
[color=2e2c2c].[/color]
Nestling his laptop bag underneath his arm, Clark secured the shoulder strap and quietly straightened his clothes. He'd have to take the bus from here and ride for an additional twenty minutes to New Troy, then walk a few more blocks to the actual Daily Planet studios. But at this point in his life, Kent knew the city like the back of his hand. He knew the right shortcuts and the correct sidewalks to traverse at this time of day. Even knew of a couple of subway terminals if he should get desperate enough to brave their assault on his sensitive eardrums. 

If he was ever unprepared for a morning commute like this, part of Clark knew that he would never get ahead in life.[/color]

[img]https://i.imgur.com/QZatcLk.png[/img]

[hr]
[color=DARKGRAY][i][color=cda175]"Alright, people, let's get the evening broadcast squared away. What's the latest?"[/color][/i]

Perry White had been a veteran of cable news for over forty-eight years. Legendary wasn't enough to describe his career. Once considered to be the controversially green successor to anchor-turned-primetime comedian Oswald Loomis, White had been given the assignment of a lifetime: with the world watching, maintain all composure and deliver the facts at nine o'clock every night. Following the first broadcast of The Daily Planet in December of 1978, he'd succeeded in a way that few could ever match. From the fall of the Berlin Wall to the death of Princess Diana of Wales, Perry had been long considered to be America's dad, remaining a constant source of stability in a world continually thrust into the unknown. When he announced his retirement as an anchor fifteen years ago, dignitaries openly wept. Enemies he'd made nodded their heads in respect. And when Metropolis, the city he'd proudly made home, expressed interest in throwing a parade? He responded by locking himself away to prepare for his next position: news director of The Daily Planet. 

From the other side of the massive conference room, one of many faces in a sea of staffers, Clark could practically feel the authority White commanded. Even while shuffling through papers and forms, or scrolling past pages of notes on his Starkpad, several esteemed journalists seemed to hang on his every action as he discussed the coming day's priorities with those to whom it was relevant. Part of Clark's responsibilities with this internship was to observe, trying to take as much of a cue from what he witnessed as what he was told. And what he saw was an ability he was certain to never master: the ability to decide what the facts were and why they were important.

[color=white]"I think we should stick with covering the Mayoral race, frankly. My guys over at the Bulletin say Siegel's ahead in the polls, and he still doesn't seem to be slowing down."[/color]

Perry shook his head. [color=cda175]"Really? Because The Star seems convinced that Shuster has it. And [i]both[/i] are claiming to have the data to back it up. It's not an angle if nobody can decide on the numbers. Anybody else?"[/color]

One of the field correspondents cleared his throat.

[color=lightgray]"City sewage crisis? There's a bunch of people in Lafayette claiming that the water's contaminated."[/color]

[color=white]"That's already been debunked. Got ahold of the reservoir manager this morning. Plant's waterline was tested last night and came up with zilch."[/color]

[color=lightgray]"Then why the hell is it still brown? They're trying to hide that..."[/color]

[color=white]"You questioning my sources?"[/color]

Perry raised his hands.

[color=cda175]"[b]Hey[/b]. Break it up. We're a news agency, not a locker room. If you want to contribute to the broadcast with fighting, talk to Lombard. He can probably you set up with a title bout by lunch."[/color]

Steve Lombard grinned at the other two. [color=f6da7d]"My money's on Bostwick."[/color]

[color=cda175]"Regardless, we're not running with that until we have a concrete set of facts. Produce a segment in the field and I'll consider it. But I want interviews, footage of the drinking water, the works. And I want both sides, Eddie."[/color]

[color=lightgray]"You got it, Chief."[/color]

The room suddenly went silent. Pins might aswell have actively dropped. 

Perry narrowed his eyes as Ed Byrnes realized what he'd done. 

[color=cda175]"What's the golden rule?"[/color]

Byrnes sheepishly looked off. [color=lightgray]"Sorry, sir."[/color]

[color=cda175]"Better. Don't let it happen again."[/color]

Writing down what little he understood to be happening with the established staffers' back-and-forths, including the note [i]'Chief = bad?'[/i], Clark glanced over to see one of the few members of The Planet he'd already met enter the room. James Olsen's eyes were locked so firmly on the monitor screen of his new camera that he barely had time to register a near-collision with a female correspondent. Clark nearly did a double-take whenever he realized that the woman, who'd noticed this and given an oblivious Olsen a fiery glare, was the same one that he'd seen on the news just an hour earlier.[/color]

[color=f7a954]"Olsen, I swear to [i]God[/i]..."[/color]

[color=DARKGRAY]Jimmy glanced up, confused.[/color] [color=c6d094]"What'd I do?"[/color]

[color=white]"Mr. White!"[/color]

[color=DARKGRAY]The entire room turned to the conference room entrance as Perry's personal assistant, Alice, entered with a phone pressed against her collarbone. Dashing directly towards the veteran newsman, she handed him the phone and whispered something into her ear. Before Clark could try and discern what was happening and listen to the whisper with his well-tuned ears, the assistant was gone and Perry had the phone locked onto his ear. Few could hear much, but Clark could tell that a frantic, albeit serious tone of voice was coming in on the other end. Perry's expression turned grim.[/color]

[color=cda175]"You're sure about this?"[/color]

[color=DARKGRAY]A brief silence before White sighed, shutting off the phone. More than enough information had been relayed.[/color]

[color=cda175]"That was our man in Hob's Bay. There's just been an explosion at one of the Luthorcorp facilities. No injuries are reported yet, but it's big. Sizable enough to make headlines. We just found our top story."[/color]

[color=DARKGRAY]Immediately, Clark was surprised to see how quickly everyone sprung into action. Most brought out their phones to get information from personal sources, while others stuck to their specific duties and began to compile information on the internet. Where the explosion was specifically, what facility could be stationed there, and how many employees were present at the time. It was all there in some form or another within half a minute. Clark genuinely couldn't believe how effectively the room was running.

White stood from his seat and slammed his palms against the mahogany table, commanding their collective attention.[/color]

[color=cda175]"You all know your jobs, go do them. As for who I'm sending down there, I..."[/color]

[color=9d8fbf]"Car's already running. Just need a cameraman."[/color]

[color=DARKGRAY]The conference room again turned their eyes to the entrance, where a woman in a black leather jacket, a purple button-down, and jeans stood with her arms folded against her chest. Her eyes stared daggers at White, seemingly the only person in the room who was entirely unintimidated by him. Perry's brow furrowed.[/color]

[color=cda175]"Lois, you're an anchor. The only thing I want from you is to start memorizing the teleprompter."[/color]

[color=9d8fbf]"Which I'll start at five, like I always do."[/color]

[color=cda175][i]"Precisely the point..."[/i][/color]

[color=DARKGRAY]Perry cleared his throat as Lois Lane narrowed her gaze. She knew that the old man would put up a fight, and she was fully prepared to make it one. But the longer that they squabbled over what she considered a mere technicality, the more of the story that they lost to every major news agency and paper in the state. It was a gamble that she knew he wouldn't want to take, given the nature of any potential piece involving the name Luthor.[/color]

[color=cda175]"Look, maybe you can tag along for the next one, but this isn't a matter for an on-camera personality and you know it. I certainly do, given your job used to be mine."[/color]

[color=9d8fbf]"Uh-huh. And you listened to your producer when, exactly?"[/color]

[color=DARKGRAY]Perry glared back at her, equally annoyed.

[color=cda175]"You're staying."[/color]

[color=9d8fbf]"And [i]yet[/i]... I'm going."[/color]

[color=c6d094]"Mr. White?"[/color]

Both Lois and Perry shot an unkind look towards Olsen, who stepped forward with a look of confidence and his camera at the ready. [color=c6d094]"Not to try and interrupt this... whatever it is that you and Lois are doing, but what if we just did a field piece on it and came back? I can shoot it, and she can report. Simple as sliced apricot, as the slogan goes."[/color]

White began to speak but went silent. Visibly mulling it over. Lois' demeanor briefly changed from one of pure ice to complete allegiance, mouthing the words 'thank you' to Jimmy as he smirked. Clark silently wondered if the two had done this exact routine before to get a story out there. It certainly felt like familiar territory.

[color=cda175]"Dammit, fine. You two go and get me whatever you can. But under one condition."[/color]

White sat back down in his chair as Lois and Jimmy listened intently. 

[color=cda175]"You get a third. I don't want Lane turning this into her audition for the Peabody and I don't want you riding shotgun on this with no filter. This is something that needs to be handled delicately."[/color]

Olsen looked perplexed. [color=c6d094]"What, you don't trust us?"[/color]

[color=cda175]"Not even a little."[/color]

[b][color=0694d4]"Uh... I'll go."[/color][/b]

For the very first time, everyone in the room seemed to turn to the meek voice in the back. Clark nervously took a step forward, his hoodie and jacket combination not exactly inspiring the full vote of confidence that a more professional environment required. But he was nevertheless committed to whatever he had just volunteered for. White took one look at him and, for the first time since the meeting had started, had no idea what to make of what he was seeing.

[color=cda175]"Who are you?"[/color]

[b][color=0694d4]"Kent, sir. Clark Kent. I'm the new intern."[/color][/b]

Lois raised an eyebrow. [color=9d8fbf][i]"Intern?"[/i][/color]

[color=c6d094]"Hey, I know you. You made the coffee."[/color]

Clark wordlessly acknowledged this, giving a small shrug.

[color=cda175]"Well, what do you know? That's perfect. Desperate enough to make an impression, but not loyal enough to you two to let you call the shots. And I'm making it clear right now, you're not calling them. You're going to report everything to me the second that anything goes haywire."[/color]

Olsen raced over to Clark and immediately grinned back at Perry.

[color=c6d094]"Don't worry, we won't break him."[/color]

Perry and Clark both shared a look that communicated worry in that response.

[color=9d8fbf]"If we're done with the after-school special... Olsen, you know where my car's parked."[/color]

Without warning, Lois threw the cameraman her keys. He caught them without looking.

[color=9d8fbf]"You're driving. Intern's going in the back. I'll get the cliff notes. Do try and keep up."[/color]

Clark barely had time to blink before Olsen pulled him by the arm, joining Lois mid-sprint as the three of them ran out the door. He hadn't realized it at the time, but whatever he had just offered himself up for was likely to be the very start of his career in journalism. He didn't know whether it'd be the first of many such assignments or the very last that he'd ever see, but he had to admit, he was excited. No matter how things went, this was how he was going to get ahead in life. Taking chances.

At the very least, the day ahead was going to be eventful.[/color]