Jimmy Olsen

"Hey, Chief, do you have a moment?" My voice cracked as I tapped gently on the door.

"Come on in, son," the Chief's deep voice bellowed past me and onto the bustling newsroom floor as staffers hustled to wrap up their day before 5 pm. "What can I do for you, son?" He asked as his blue eyes met mine, but other thoughts clouded his words as usual.

"Well, you see, Chief, I've been here at the Daily Planet for two years..."

"Jumping Jiminy, has it really been that long? Feels like just yesterday you were sitting across me greener than a spring morning," Chief's voice got distant with nostalgia as he spoke.

"Yeah, and you know I've loved every minute here at the Planet."

"Two-right you have, the best damn newspaper in the world. Why George Washington himself wrote the first editorial." It was a knee jerk response that Chief had when the Planet received even a hint of an accolade. After twenty-five years as editor and Chief, he had a lot to be proud of in that time.

"Right, yeah, so I thought it was time for my next step..." my voice creaked as though my horrific puberty years were returning.

"Next step?" Chief's brow furrowed as he looked through a proof on his desk. "Mmhmm, next step," he murmured to himself, lost in another thought.

"Yeah, next step; you know, like..."

Chief's eyes snapped up as he shook off his moment of distraction. "Next step, of course, Jimmy. Next step," he nodded to himself as he stood and paced around his desk. "Now listen here, son," one of his bearpaw-like hands fell heavily to my shoulder, which I tried to absorb without much bowing. "It's good for a young, eager man to come in here and speak up for himself. Why, when I was your age, I was still running papers to doorsteps. I didn't have the ear to the Chief as you do. He was a distracted man, a bit self-centered if you ask me. Now, if I had walked into his office asking for a promotion, he'd have laughed me up and down both towers of Lex Corp."

"Right, so..." I stuttered as I sensed I was losing him to an indulgent path.

"You come in tomorrow, Jimmy, and I'll personally see to it that you have a new assignment. I won't be too busy like Chief Taylor. I'll take you under my wing and teach you everything you need to know," as he spoke, he ushered me to the door.

"Thanks, Chief, I really appreciate it," I failed to stifle the bubbling excitement in my voice.

The following day, I found myself racing to work at a fevered pace. A small voice in my head told me to slow down as I whizzed by the snarled traffic of the morning commute. My feet pumped faster, matching the race of my heart drumming in my ears. My knuckles gleamed white as a deep ache throbbed from my fingers to my tense wrists. The horns of disgruntled drivers bounced off me like bullets falling from Superman himself. I was invincible.

I closed my eyes and let the breeze rush over my face. I knew what it was to fly; I knew what it was to be Superman. But it was a mistake. The breeze shifted as my hands were viciously ripped from the bike handles by the unseen force of momentum. I opened my eyes just in time to see the flash of yellow from the taxi floating beneath me. I braced for the impact. The crash of my fragile bones against the hard concrete. The ripping of my paper-thin skin along the grit of the ground. This was it. I wouldn't make it to the office; I wouldn't get my first assignment as a wet-eared reporter. But as quickly as the realization hit, a blur of blue and red blocked the impending black of the asphalt hurtling towards me.

"Jimmy," a voice snapped me from my doom. "Jimmy," it called again. It was familiar, soothing, like a big brother.

Somehow I was upright on the safety of the sidewalk as people looked on in awe and excitement. In blurred confusion, I thought they could be greeting me with their looks. Had I learned to fly?

"Jimmy, are you okay? Did you hit your head? You seem..." the voice dropped out again.

"Am I... hit my head..." I shook the muddle from my mind, and suddenly he came into view. Standing before me in majestic glory was Superman. His crossed arms obscured his trademark S as he looked over me with concerns and oddly familiar eyes. "I'm fine. Thanks, Superman."

"Anytime, Jimmy, but next time... try to keep your eyes open in traffic. You aren't invincible," he nodded with the slightest hint of humor before he blasted off into the sky as the gathered crowd cheered.

With a sigh, I surveyed my bike. Aside from a twisted front tire, it seemed intact. I dropped it at the bicycle shop before heading around the corner to the Daily Planet. I paused beneath the floating globe and took in the moment. I was a reporter at The Daily Planet. I pushed through the door with my head held high.

"Hold the elevator!" I called in my best impression of the Clark Kent.

A delicate hand instinctively shot to the clanging doors as they reversed direction, revealing Lois Lane.

"Morning, Jimmy," she smiled as she juggled her suitcase, coffee, and phone back to two hands from one.

"Morning, Lois," I nodded as I joined her in the elevator. She was my equal now; we were both of the reporter ranks.

"Any chance you were able to get that research on Garrison Slate pulled? I really think there's a connection between the attacks on the S.T.A.R. lab raids and a specific project, but pulling information from them is like pulling teeth from a crocodile. Maybe if we get the personnel files from all of the locations hit, and cross-reference them for any scientists linked in the past..." Lois' thoughts pulled her attention. I'm not even sure if she knew I was there until the doors rattled open, and she added, "thanks, Jimmy. Can you get those reports together before lunch?" Asked as a question, but she didn't pause for an answer, nor did she think she had to hear one.

"Hey, Jimmy," Clark greeted as I flopped into my chair.

My confidence in things changing for me at the Planet was beginning to fade. "Hey, C.K.," I sighed.

"You okay?" Clark always treated me like his little brother. I can't say that I minded. He offered sound advice, but like Lois and Chief, he could be distracted by his own leads.

"Jimmy," Chief bellowed from his office.

"Duty calls," Clark offered with a sympathetic hand on my shoulder.

But the Chief's call stirred excitement within me. Maybe this cursed day was turning around. Chief had promised to take me under his wing.

"Morning, Chief," my voice chirped in an annoyingly young and eager manner.

"Now, Jimmy, I have a very important assignment for you. I was thinking about our chat last night, and it struck me; I've been working at this paper for twenty-five years. Twenty-five years, Jimmy; that's longer than you've been alive! Well, then I got thinking more and, wouldn't you know, I met Alice the same year I started here. You know what that means?"

It meant that Perry took the wrong takeaway from my conversation the night prior, but that was not what I said. "No, sir," I tried to keep my voice even.

"It means I plum forgot my twenty-fifth anniversary. I need you to get me reservations at The Centennial Hotel for tonight. Now, I know what you are going to say; 'Chief, the Centennial Hotel books up months in advance.' But the mark of a good reporter is never to take no for an answer. Where there is a will, there's a way. I know you can do it, son."

"Well, Chief, I thought maybe something like my own story would be...."

"Now, Jimmy, let me stop you right there. I appreciate your eagerness, but I've been at this longer than a yawn at an elementary recital, so I know a thing or two about becoming a newspaperman. Trust me, son. I'm building character."

"Building character," I muttered under my breath as I shuffled to my desk.

"Jimmy, any luck on those reports?" Lois shot as she breezed by with a steaming cup of coffee and perched on her desk chair.

"You just asked for them ten minutes ago," I griped, but Lois didn't hear me; her messages held her attention.

"Where are you going?" She hollered at Clark as he zipped to the door.

"Just got a tip: building fire at a condo building in Hell's Gate..." he didn't stop his stride nor wait for the elevator; he just flew through the door to the stairwell.

"Like I'm going to let Kent out scoop me," Lois said as she flew after him.

"What a team!" Chief glowed from behind me. "The competition, the dig for the story; what a team!"

"Yeah, yeah; what a team," my voice came as a growl.

I could catch a story, too, if I weren't marginalized to pulling reports. Stupid reports that Lois probably won't even use. How many times had I spent hours pulling and processing reports for her to trash them almost immediately because the story led her elsewhere? Usually, Lois' and Clark's leads came from each other. Lois chasing Clark out of the newsroom or Clark chasing Lois was as common as a sunrise. Then it hit me, slicing through my mounting anger like a knife. The competition, the dig, the chase; I could chase the story just like Lois and Clark. I grabbed my camera and raced to the elevator.

"Jimmy, where in sam hill are you going, son?" Chief called after me, but I ignored his holler and slid into the closing doors of the elevator.

When I hit the sidewalk, my stomach dropped; I had busted my bike. My hand flew up before I even realized it. The first two cabs whizzed by as my temper rose. The next yellow taxi that came near, I would not let pass. As it approached, I threw my body in front of the car. A scoop meant taking risks and possibly dying at the wheels of a taxicab for the second time felt like the right level of risk. The cab tires screamed a warning as they skidded to a stop just in front of me.

"What the hell do you think you are doing!" The cabbie hollered from behind the steering wheel.

"Flagging a cab! I need to get to Hell's Gate now. The faster you get there, the bigger the tip," I promised as I bustled into the backseat. "What are you waiting for? Go!" I screamed!

"You must be insane," the cabbie lamented as he pulled out.

"Maybe, and you going this slow will only make me crazier!" I didn't know where my confident assertion was coming from; maybe I was channeling my best Lois.

The driver listened this time. He took the first corner at such a pace he nearly tipped the car. My eyes darted in fear that the blare of police car sirens would soon be streaking after us.

"Don't worry; cops are never on the back roads. Getaway Express, we call this in the business. The most we have to worry about is bursting a tire on the old asphalt," a maniacal laugh left his lips as he took another turn that threw me hard against my door. "May want to buckle up. Wouldn't want a door to let go and toss you out."

I couldn't manage a response; the panic of the rollercoaster ride I had demanded choked my words. I feverishly buckled, but the thin strip did not feel like enough security as the driver tossed the car around corners before barreling through the straights of streets. I wanted to close my eyes and avoid the frenzied passing of buildings and street signs, but my eyelids froze open from fright, forcing me to watch the solo car chase I had caused. As we neared our destination, my stomach lurched in anticipation of this nightmare ending but feared the final maneuver to stop this hurtling car.

There was hardly a flash to think of what would happen. The wheels screamed as a long skid mark scarred the road beneath us. The back wheels of the car began to lift, but I had to focus. The billows of the condo fire were our backdrop; I was so close to my story. As the vehicle lifted, I pulled my wallet from my pocket and threw all my money at the driver. Then with all the strength I could muster, I kicked at my door, causing it to flail open wildly. I leaped from the cab as it slammed to the ground and approached the building in an all-out sprint while my camera snapped photo after photo.

The crowd oohed and ahhed as Superman bobbed in and out of windows carrying people to safety. In moments, he saved everyone, but he still returned to the building. A cloud of dense smoke came from the windows as Superman casually floated to the ground in front of the building, content with his work. It was the photo opp I had captured so many times. Our hometown superhero was savvy enough with the media to know how to create a front-page photo. I kept snapping, knowing that I didn't have enough for a lead story, but at least I could grab another photo credit. I snapped until he was out of sight, and then, for lack of anything else to do, I took some snaps of the post-crisis crowd.

"Jimmy? What are you doing here?" Lois called over the heads of the dissipating mob.

"Chief sent me down to get some photos," I dejectedly murmured as I held up my camera. "You mind if I hitch a ride back with you; my bike's in the shop."

"Sure, I just lost Clark in the crowd," Lois said as she began to look around.

"Nope, I'm right here," Clark smiled as he approached us while tucking his glasses up his nose. "I was just talking to a couple of people that said while all this was happening, there was a runaway cab. It doesn't seem like anyone was hurt, but, man, who would be in such a hurry that they would risk the lives of others?"

"People are self-centered, Clark. You know that." Lois shook her head in mourning of the state of humanity.

"Yeah," I sheepishly added as I dipped my eyes.

"What are you doing here, Jimmy?"

"Pictures," I answered again.

"How did you get here with your busted bike?" Clark casually continued as we made our way from the crowd to Lois' car.

"Oh, cab," I shrugged.

"You two boys and your cabs. Clark always takes a cab to leads. He likes to collect his thoughts and doesn't want to distractive drive," Lois teased.

"Hey, I take the protection of my fellow people seriously," Clark nodded.

"Such a boy scout," Lois added as she pulled out and headed for the Daily Planet.

I shuffled back into the newsroom floor and went straight to the darkroom. I didn't want to have to face the Chief and explain my failed attempt at a story. The developing photos soothed me; something appearing from nothing as if by magic. It was one of Superman taking off that held my gaze.

"The angle," I said to no one before stopping myself from speaking out loud like a crazy person. But the angle lingered. The slope he took off meant he wasn't going far. This was my story; Superman was my story. I filtered through my photos as my mind whirled through the facts. Most certainly, the distraction that frequently met me from Lois, Clark, and Chief, now clouded my face.

"Hey, Jimmy, Chief wanted to know if you had the shot for the front-page story on the condo fire?"

"Yeah, C.K., right here," my voice came thin as I handed him the posed photo of a triumphant Superman that was sure to sell thousands of papers.

"You okay? Did you hit your head in the accident this morning?"

"What?" I asked as I tried to pull myself from my thoughts. "No, yeah, I'm fine." I met Clark's eyes as he gave me a skeptical nod. "Hey, C.K., what do you think is the best advice for a young reporter?"

"That's easy; the only thing you protect more than your sources are your friends," he smiled as he clapped a hand down on my shoulder. It was precisely the advice I would expect from Clark. "That reminds me, I called in a favor with an old source at the Centennial Hotel. Perry and Alice have a table waiting for them overlooking the park," he gave me a reassuring smile as he headed out with my photo in hand.

As he paced away, the pieces began to fit. I feverishly began flipping through my photos. The trajectory of Superman's ascent would lead to a nearby descent, close enough to return to the crowd. I flipped through the photos comparing during and after shots; sure enough, Clark was nowhere during Superman's heroics. But I didn't need the images; Clark had given himself away. He didn't know I had been in an accident, Superman knew, but Clark didn't. I had my first scoop; I knew the identity of Superman. The satisfaction of my first cracked case sunk in as I deleted the photos from my camera. As I burned the developed pictures, Clark's advice rolled through my mind; the only thing you protect more than your sources are your friends.