#the thicken is plotting

[tinesleftnipple]

JITD Episode 24 (non-final) Script Synopsis

Episode 22

Episode 23

"A New Chapter"

Name changes: the Louvre -> "la Rive Droite" (the right bank of the Seine. Will call if Seine for brevity), Wei Wenchuan -> Wei Wenxuan

Shot of new broadcast: famous entrepreneur WZH and son suspected of hiring to kill, using the Beehive and other entertainment establishments to keep and harbor escaped convicts. 27 felons have been exposed, and the Wei image is shattered.

Voiceover from the Demons: this is a day full of surprises, this day is the end of past events... and is also the beginning of future events.. it revealed some shocking truths, but also made people further perplexed...

Pei su and Du jia finish listening to the end of the chapter of Demons from the Reciters. Pei su asks what Du jia wants to do, now that Du guosheng admitted to everything and all they are waiting for is the court verdict. Du jia jokingly asks Pei su if he can't afford his large appetite anymore, and Pei su takes a look at SID and says of course, even he must mooch off of someone else for food.

Du jia grows serious and parallels trauma to drugs. Sometime he wonders why he turned out the way he is, to the point where he doesn't recognize himself anymore. He feels like an outsider to "ordinary" people, unable to achieve "ordinary people milestones". Even when the criminal has been caught, the fear, distrust, and insecurity remains. Pei su is silent but Du jia tells him he loves talking to him. Pei su replies that normally out of social courtesy, he should reply with some comforting words. But he doesn't want to say them.

Pei su tells Du jia everyone is shaped by their environment, and Du guosheng has shaped part of Du jia's flesh and blood. If it were Pei su, he would carve that piece out. He is not the one staring into the abyss; he is the abyss. Pei su gives Du jia a sinister smile.

LWZ honks his car from across the road and Pei su turns to gesture to LWZ that he will come in a moment, then tells Du jia to drive his car away. Pei su gets into LWZ's car and they go home.

Montage of scenes:

Tao ze on a date with Tang ning. They are watching a horror movie, and they hold hands after a jump scare.

After work, XHY offers to treat Lan qiao as thanks for last time (taking down WZH). They go for hotpot.

In the hospital ICU, the doctor tells Yang xi that her mother survived, but is not in good condition and that she should prepare for the worst.

Pei su standing at the window, watching LWZ leave, then makes a call.

It's night. At the graveyard, LWZ and Du ju stand in front of Huo xiao's grave. After, they go for a drink. LWZ complains and asks for a raise - it's hard making money for a family. LWZ asks Du ju to tell him more about Huo xiao. Du ju tells him that Yang zhengfeng, Huo xiao, Zhang zhaojin, and Pan yunheng were all his classmates and they were close friends. Once they began working, Yang was the most experienced. Zhang would pay for everything every time they met up (his younger brother is a rich businessman). Pan had the worst temper. Huo xiao was the youngest of the 5, and completed a masters degree during his spare time. The 327 case was the first big case Huo xiao took on after being promoted to vice team leader.

LWZ asks Du ju about what happened that night at the Seine. Du ju recalls that after they discovered Du guosheng's fingerprint, they searched for security camera footage but found none. Huo xiao never gave up. Flashback: Du ju receives a call from Yang telling him Huo xiao has died. At the morgue, the police informant Laomeizha tells them Huo xiao often faked fingerprint evidence, and would use it as an excuse for extortion.

Laomeizha was the only survivor of the Seine fire. Du ju tells LWZ that Laomeizha had worked with the police on many previous cases, and they saw him as a brother. Besides Laomeizha's testimony, Huo xiao's autopsy also showed he was in an altercation with the Seine's manager. They also found a stack of fingerprints in his home. At the scene of the crime were remnants of a notebook with Huo xiao's handwriting, which listed recent businesses Huo xiao visited. Everyone involved testified that they'd received threats from Huo xiao. At the location where Du guosheng's fingerprint was first spotted, a bartender recognized Laomeizha.

LWZ questions where the money is, if that's what Huo xiao's motive was. Du ju answers that they did find money in Huo xiao's home, along with medical results. His mother was diagnosed with cancer.

LWZ asks why Huo xiao had to act alone. Du ju goes silent. Du ju admits that if Huo xiao was wronged, then it means there is a mole in their team.

In the car, LWZ calls his father, asking for documentation of the initial Zero Degree project.

Morning, at SID. The team are holding a meeting. LWZ sums up the events of the Du guosheng case, and highlights that they will reinvestigate the Seine fire case. Some team members complain about not having new years' break. LWZ continues: ten years have passed, and all the evidence and people involved are gone. Huo xiao has no remaining family members to bother them. But if SID cannot be a place where no one cares about right and wrong.

At LWZ's apartment, Pei su steps out of the bedroom wearing a full SID uniform.

The SID team continue their briefing on the Seine case. WZH refuses to admit that the Seine was a part of his industry. There might be other people involved. "Laomeizha", real name Yin chao, had broken contact with the police and left the city for many years. Tao ze and Xiao wu leave to go find him. LWZ asks XHY to investigate some people: "greetings to shatov", and the suspicious Lunyuncheng security guard that likely switched out the security tapes twice.

Pei su arrives at the door and sees Lan qiao listening in on LWZ and XHY's conversation. Lan qiao doesn't want to be left out of their operation, so LWZ asks her to work with XHY.

LWZ takes a look at Pei su all suited up and asks what special occasion it is. Pei su jokingly mimics Lan qiao, complaining about being left out. LWZ fixes his police badge. From now on, Pei su will be a part of their team. LWZ asks Pei su to always tell him what he's doing and where he's going. Pei su replies he will advance and retreat along with the team. LWZ flicks his forehead and says SID only advances, never retreats.

Pei su shows LWZ drone footage of a man suspected to be A13. Du jia made another visit to the village at the ecological park, and found evidence of Shepherd Dog being monitored. If SID hadn't captured the Shepherd Dog, the Reciters would have killed him. LWZ points out if the Reciters' goal is to expose Huo xiao's wronging, only monitoring Shepherd Dog was not a foolproof plan. Pei su smiles at LWZ, and LWZ realizes the Reciters must have had planted people in the ecological park, the most likely one being Yizhiyan, who had the most contact with Du guosheng.

LWZ rushes off to interrogate Yizhiyan, but remembers something, and puts a pile of case documentation into Pei su's arms. He tells Pei su to bring them home and he will sort them out when he has the time. Pei su smiles watching him leave, and picks up some loose sheets that fell out. Closeup shows interrogation notes from Wang xiao and Liang yujin. Pei su seems to realize something.

LWZ and Xiao wu interrogating Yizhiyan. Yizhiyan tells them the Beehive gave him an order to poison Du guosheng, but "they" asked him to keep Du guosheng alive, and in return "they" will send him somewhere safe. Yizhiyan confesses he only knows one person from that organization, A13, and confirms it is the man in the drone footage.

Pei su is waiting for LWZ outside the interrogation room. Pei su points out that the day Wang xiao overheard Liang yujin and her friends talking about WWC's birthday party, Liang yujin was not actually at school. But Liang yujin confirmed what Wang xiao overheard was true.

Pei su and LWZ head to Yufen to look at security camera footage. On that day, a janitor had followed Wang xiao into the bathroom. The janitor was carrying a high quality voice recording and audio playing device. What Wang xiao overheard in the bathroom was just an audio recording.

The security guard at Yufen is startled - he does not recognize this janitor as staff. LWZ texts XHY for him to also investigate the janitor.

Tao ze and Xiao wu arrive out of town to find the whereabouts of Yin chao. A local policeman, Kong weichen, greets them. They go and visit Yin chao's twin brother, Yin ping, who is reluctant to let them into his home.

XHY is quick to reply with information on the janitor (Zhu feng), because she has a criminal record. 20 years ago, Zhu feng's newlywed husband was out buying groceries when he was stabbed to death. The culprit had an intellectual disability and was placed in a facility. However, the records for this case is not complete, and some information is sealed - only someone Du ju's level can access it. LWZ asks why, and Pei su is the one who answers: this was one of the cases from the initial Zero Degree project.

[madamadamiu]

What the hell is that

[splinterclan]

Moon 29.5: A familiar face

[rlynumpen]

POV: you're a villain and this is the last thing you'll ever see

[emacrow]

The meeting of Gods and Goddesses around a large stone table watching, with Shazam easedropping.

Warning may include death of a child, please be advise.

"How could this have possible had occurred?!?!"

"I thought Hades made sure the bones of Kronos could never had been recovered?!?"

"..."

"Hades..?" Persephone said softly, holding Hades's tightly gripped fist on the table. Hades remained quiet, his face remained unchanged from the grumpy ticked off look that he held while among the other Gods and Goddess who glare or glance at him.

"It's not my fault that Ceberus was throwing up due to indigestion, Blame Cupid over there for sending me white chocolates skulls instead of Bitter chocolate when he knew I hate despised them." Hades stated placing his other hand onto Persephone's hand, caressing it softly.

Poseiden can admit it was a valid accused, but it was beginning to get a bit unnerving to see Zeus so quiet yet Angry with how intense he was glaring at the clear vision from the Shazam's host seeing Kronos and the godling babe while the other gods accused one another.

He look at the babe then back at angered Zeus, then glance back before a sudden realization hit him faster then a tsunami..

"You're not the youngest anymore.. now aren't you?" Poseiden blurted out loud causing every one at the table to Freeze, Zeus stiffen as the very clouds surrounding underneath their table rumbled with Lightening..

"How Dare You!?!"

Zeus growled menacingly summoning his prized lightening bolt in his hand before he can continue speaking, his temper nearly boiling.

"Well, he does have a point.. that babe reminded me vaguely of the corpse that was founded in Kronos's stomach.. but I thought it was because the babe was already dead as the soul was already gone due to how crowded it was in there." Hades commented, looking as though he was remembering a distant past..

"It should had stay dead where I had found it!" Zeus snapped at Hades before his eyes widen, covering his mouth quickly as the a kept secret had slipped out.

The Gods and Goddesses were stunned at the sudden secret revealed. If Zeus was not the youngest, then does that mean the godling babe shown before them was the one supposed to rules them?

"What happened on that day, Zeus?" Hera said softly as to tried to calm Zeus's nerves.

Zeus gritted his teeth before he close his eyes, ans sighed, seeing how everyone will only pursue the truth more later.

"It was after I pulled you all out of Father's stomach, only then I saw that there was a extra one sleeping unborn seemingly looking stillborn with a cord wrapped around, nested underneath Father's heart, I was about to grabbed it and pull it out as well, but then..it shifted as it was some kind of modern glitch, a girl one second, a boy a second after, black hair flash to white hair and back, before I saw it's eyes. It's eyes look inhumane Green and more souless then the titans. I realized that it was the youngest and not I... I was already enraged at the point of the prophecy wasn't about me before I even knew what I had done. I had snapped it's neck just as it was about to take it first breath and pulled it out of him, Father knew what I had done the moment the babe fell out lifeless and that was when he becomes truly descented into madness." Zeus said with his hands tighten into fists as he look like he was reliving a memory.

Part 4 << >> Part 6

[ooctlt]

Pal - does Harrow pay her rent in 10's and 20's? has she ever paid with a $100 bill?

harrows job: 1 | 2 | 3 |

[buckysteve]

[birdsandcake]

Humanformers AU information YAY‼️💥

[its-always-sunny-in-city17]

Little something in honour of me finishing a study in scarlet

[thearchercore]

love the timeline implication of charles being at a different event/party with pierre and then ending up at max's party like we all talk about lestappen but the real thing is has anyone seen pierre

[renif]

a former jedi asks the proclaimed jedi killer to join forces on a bounty (it goes surprisingly better than expected)

[keferon]

Haha. Hm. I’m doing things

[victor-v]

the fact that in the movie donald sutherland had much more hair than ralph fiennes means president snow went to turkey to get hair implant

[dzook]

sorry i dropped off the face of the earth i was trying to figure out how to show a city having feelings

[crumblieee]

Signed, —S.

Chapter 1/7- "Dear Heartline..."

Summary: You weren’t supposed to keep the letter. You weren’t supposed to feel anything at all. But it lingers — stitched into your thoughts like a thread that won’t snap, pulling tighter each time you try to forget. And as the workday fades into fluorescent silence and the city hums just beyond the glass, something shifts. A flicker of something in Clark’s voice. The brush of his coat against your skin. The way he sighs like the weight of the world is stitched into his lungs. It’s nothing, you tell yourself. But then again — you’re already printing the letter, aren’t you?

word count: 3.0k

warnings: Y/N usage (but it’s classy, promise), clark kent being clark kent (it’s a lot), mild language, yearning in 12pt Times New Roman, office romance.

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt 5, pt. 6, pt. 7

A/N: gosh guys i'm actually so excited to publish this you don't even know! its going to be full of yearning, heart-wrenching and tension and ugh i think you will love it so so much! enjoy.

I didn’t expect to read it twice.

Most letters, I skim. Scan for key phrases, emotional hooks, anything inappropriate I have to redact. People send a lot of nonsense to the Daily Planet’s Heartline column — love confessions, petty revenge plots disguised as apologies, three-paragraph thirst letters about local celebrities.

(Side note: someone once wrote a haiku about Bruce Wayne’s hands.)

But this one? This one I read slowly.

Twice.

Dear Heartline,

What does it mean to crave something so deeply, your hands tremble to touch it?

To imagine what it feels like to be seen — really seen — by someone...

She doesn’t know me — not really. Not the whole me. But she smiles like she does, like she sees through all the noise. And it’s… grounding. Like coming up for air after being underwater too long.

Who doesn’t even know what she does to you with a smile?

Sometimes I wish I could stop pretending. Sometimes I wish I could just... reach.

— S.

I blink at my computer screen.

No return email. Typed out in Times New Roman like it was a high school essay. No signature beyond that single letter.

Completely anonymous — which, I suppose, was the point of my corner of the paper.

No clues. Nothing to go on. Just the weight of the words.

It wasn’t important, really. I worked the Heartline column — a warm little space in the paper where people could share their feelings about a lover, an enemy, an admirer. Ask for advice. Spill their guts. Send something into the void and get a response.

And I was the voice of that response.

But something about this letter… it made me ache.

I sat back in my desk chair, the clatter of the bullpen blurring into a dull hum around me.

Across the room, Clark Kent was laughing softly with Jimmy Olsen over something on his phone. His tie was crooked. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. He looked like he hadn’t slept.

I sucked in a slow breath and turned back to the screen.

Read the letter again.

And again.

This one… this one was going in the paper. The way this person was completely enamored with her — whoever she was — it spoke to something in me. It was poetic. Honest. Painfully intimate.

I hadn’t read anything like it in a long time.

I copied and pasted the text into my layout doc, then pressed Enter. Sat there with my hands hovering over the keyboard, unsure of how to respond.

How do you even answer something like that — without sounding silly?

Whoever they were, they were a better writer than me. God.

I started typing methodically. Slowly.

Trying to find the right tone — to match the weight of their words, without losing my voice. Something a little witty. A little personal. Just enough empathy without sounding like I was swooning.

But maybe I was, a little.

Dear… you? I don’t know why I’m writing this. I shouldn’t be. But your words stuck to me like honey.

Wanting something you shouldn’t — that feels... familiar. Like thinking about someone’s laugh too long. Or staring at a mouth you shouldn’t want to kiss.

Maybe we’re both a little hopeless.

— Still wondering

I read it over. Yeah. That would work.

A response that didn’t shy away from the honesty of what they’d said. Something that let them know they’d been heard.

And maybe — selfishly — something I needed to hear, too.

The bullpen buzzed back to life. Everyone had gone back to work, faces tilted toward their glowing screens, the sound of keys tapping like distant rainfall.

I sighed. You could never really catch up in this place.

I glanced at the clock. 12:23 p.m.

Almost lunch.

Today was my get-out-of-the-office-before-I-lose-my-mind day — once a week, I made myself leave. Get some air. Reclaim a little headspace. And more importantly… eat something greasy and terrible for me.

But as I shut down the tab, I kept thinking about that letter. The way it felt like it was written just for me — even if I knew it wasn’t.

Sometimes I wish I could stop pretending. Sometimes I wish I could just... reach.

Those words stuck in my chest like a splinter.

And I wasn’t sure I wanted them out.

I was so deep in my own thoughts, I didn’t notice someone walking up to my desk.

His smile was the first thing I saw when I looked up — soft, lopsided, warm in that way that always throws me off.

“Hey there,” he said, his dimples flashing with each careful syllable. His lips moved slowly, deliberately, like he knew exactly what they were doing.

“Hello, Clark.” I forced my eyes away from the screen, though I lingered there longer than I should have — still tangled in the letter.

“What’s up?” I asked, catching his gaze as I gently pressed my lips together, smudging the gloss just a little.

His eyes flicked to my mouth.

Brief. Barely a second.

But enough that I noticed.

He hesitated before answering — like he was shaking something off. “I was just wondering if you wanted to join me and, uh…” He glanced over his shoulder, brows furrowing as if Jimmy's name slipped his mind.

“Jimmy,” he said a second later, snapping back to me like his thoughts were caught mid-step.

I smiled. “Sure.” Then turned slightly, nodding back toward the small cluster of desks behind me. “Can I bring Lois?”

We weren’t exactly close, but she was kind. Easy to be around. Better than third-wheeling through lunch with Clark and Jimmy, anyway.

Clark blinked, caught off guard for a moment. Then nodded. “Yeah—yeah, of course.”

“Thanks, Clark. I really need to get out of this office.” The smile tugging at my lips wilted a little at the edges.

His expression softened. That same worried look he always wore like a second skin. Like he felt everything a little deeper than most.

“Is something bothering you?”

“Meh…” I let out a breath and shrugged. “I’ll tell you at lunch.”

--

The four of you squeeze into a booth at Big Belly Burger — the one across from the Daily Planet, all grease-stained windows and that familiar smell of burnt oil and onion rings.

The hostess doesn’t even glance up as she smacks her gum and tosses a stack of menus across the table.

“Your server today’ll be James,” she mutters with a grunt, already walking away.

Jimmy blinks after her, eyes narrowed. “Jeez. What’s her problem?”

Clark, ever the defender of humanity, offers a quiet shrug.

“Maybe she’s just having a hard day,” he says, soft-spoken and patient, the way he always is. “You never really know what people are carrying.”

You glance at him.

That voice of his could soothe a riot. Always so gentle. Always seeing the best in people — even the ones who throw menus at you and disappear without making eye contact.

There’s a short pause as the table settles into that in-between moment — no one quite ready to pick the next thread. The hum of the restaurant fills the space: clattering plates, a kid yelling somewhere, the sizzle of something deep-fried behind the counter.

Clark reaches for his water. Jimmy absently flips his knife over in his hand. Lois taps a nail against the table.

And then — of course — she smirks.

“So,” she says, leaning in like she’s about to drop gossip in a dorm room, “Y/N. Anything new in your life? Any boys?”

You groan and drop your head into your hands. “No, Lois.”

She doesn’t let up. “Oh, come on. There’s gotta be something. Give us something to keep this lunch from being as painfully awkward as it’s trying to be.”

She side-eyes the two men across from you, who are both silently watching this exchange like it’s tennis.

Clark’s ears turn the faintest shade of pink — which only makes you want to laugh harder.

“I mean,” he says, lips quirking, “you didn’t all have to come. I just thought it’d be good for us to get out.”

“No, Clark,” you say, turning your cheek against your arm instead of your forehead this time, “you did fine.”

You offer him a soft look.

And his smile lingers just a moment too long before he glances down at the table, clearing his throat.

“It’s just — we see each other every day. What’s left to catch up on?”

You sit up finally, eyes falling to the menu. You start flipping through the pages — and immediately regret it.

“Asparagus, jam, and Swiss burger…?” you mutter aloud, blinking at the ingredients. “What the hell…”

Jimmy groans next to you. “Why can’t we just have normal burgers anymore?”

And right on cue — your server appears.

James. With a grin so forced it makes your teeth itch. Notepad in hand, chipper voice full of customer service charm. The kind that’s practically begging for a tip.

You shoot a glare at Jimmy. You jinxed us.

Clark gives a quiet huff of a laugh, but doesn’t look up. He’s still flipping his menu, but hasn’t turned a page in over two minutes.

As soon as James disappears to grab drinks, Clark turns toward you again. He’s sipping his water through a straw, head tilted slightly down, looking at you through his glasses.

“So…” he says between sips, “what’s been going on with work lately?”

“Oh — right!”

You sit up straighter, suddenly remembering the thing that’s been stuck in your head since this morning. You’d been so preoccupied with it that you’d completely forgotten to ask for help — you know, using your journalist instincts. And theirs.

Clark watches you closely now — more closely than the others. His expression is unreadable, but something in his shoulders has gone very still.

“Well, you guys know I work in probably the most thrilling column in the entire paper,” you say dryly.

Lois snorts.

You smirk, but shake your head.

“No, seriously — I love it. But God, the creeps that write in? Sometimes I swear people think they can confess anything just because it’s anonymous.”

Lois cuts in, sharp and ready. “Oh god. Is it another crime confession? Y/N, you have to report those. You shouldn’t be the one dealing with that bullshit—”

“No, no! Nothing like that.”

You stir the lukewarm coffee James had dropped off earlier.

“Actually… it was kind of the opposite.”

Clark perks up. This time, he doesn’t bother hiding it.

Jimmy leans forward. “What was it then?”

You pause. Fingers circling your mug.

“It was… beautiful,” you admit. “Touching. Almost poetic.”

You look up, a little dazed, and find the others exchanging confused glances.

Clark isn’t looking at anyone.

His eyes are fixed on his hands, resting quietly on the table. Not tense — just still, like he’s afraid that any movement might give something away.

Jimmy raises a brow. “Did someone write a love letter to you, Y/N?”

Your glare is immediate. “No! And are you gonna let me finish?”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “By all means.”

You exhale and continue.

“It was about a girl,” you say, your voice softening. “Someone this writer is completely — completely — lovestruck by.”

Clark's head lifts. Just barely.

His mouth opens a fraction like he wants to speak — and then doesn’t.

“That’s it?” Lois asks, one brow raised.

“I mean… yeah. But the way he wrote it — I don’t know, it lit something in me. Like he wasn’t just in love with her — he felt her. Saw her. Every little inch of her.”

You try not to smile but you can feel it pulling at your lips anyway.

Across the table, Clark swallows hard. His water is already half-empty.

James returns before he can speak — again — his voice cutting through whatever moment was about to form.

You roll your eyes and look away.

God, his face annoys you. The way he talks. The way he hovers. Why does he have to hover?

Ugh. I’m just in a sour mood today, huh?

Maybe it’s that letter.

Maybe it’s the way it clung to you — that voice, those words. Maybe it’s the fact that in your twenty-six years of being alive, no one’s ever said anything even remotely that tender to you before.

Maybe it’s that… you’ve never been written about like that. Not even close.

And you have no idea that the man sitting next to you already has.

--

The end of the workday begins to creep in. Fluorescent lights hum softly above you, and the newsroom’s frantic energy begins to slow.

You start packing up your things — slowly, absentmindedly — your movements muscle memory by now. The letter sits in the back of your mind. Not gone… just quieter. Fainter.

You hadn’t forgotten about it. Not exactly.

It’s just that the ache it stirred in you earlier has dulled into something… numb. Something folded neatly into the background while your thoughts drifted toward home: dinner, quiet, maybe a hot shower.

The screen glows in front of you. You reach for your mouse and begin closing your tabs — one by one — as the clatter of keyboards and the low murmur of departing coworkers buzzes in the distance.

Then—

That tab. That one.

It’s still open.

Your breath stills.

God.

You’d almost forgotten how beautiful it was. Even after six hours.

The words feel different this time, almost more fragile. You scan them quickly, not to memorize, but just… to feel them again. To see if they still do that thing to your chest.

They do.

You glance around. The bullpen is nearly empty. Only the faint echo of footsteps down the hallway remains.

Your fingers press Ctrl + P.

The printer hums to life somewhere off to the side. You walk over quickly, quietly — like a kid sneaking into a forbidden room.

Warm paper slides out into the tray. You take it. Fold it. Tuck it into the inner pocket of your coat.

The weight of it feels heavier than the single page it is.

Back at your desk, you close the final tab. Click. Log out. Done.

You inhale, deep and bracing, and slip your arms into your jacket. The synthetic lining clings slightly to your skin as you gather your bag, trying to prepare for the cold metallic breath of Metropolis outside.

You make your way to the elevator. The button lights up beneath your touch. You wait.

The hallway is dim. Still.

The ding comes. The doors slide open.

You step inside and turn—

“Wait!”

A voice calls out from the hallway, quick footsteps chasing it.

Your body jolts.

Your hand flutters to your chest, the sound catching you off guard.

The building had felt so still. So empty.

The echo of rushed movement makes your stomach flutter with nerves. You reach for the elevator door to hold it open — but fumble slightly, palms sweaty.

Then— He rounds the corner.

Clark.

Of course.

Something — somewhere inside you — breathes out.

His figure comes into view, winded and just a little bit undone. His tie is loosened, coat creased from being shrugged on too fast, a small streak of ink smudged at the cuff of his sleeve.

You glance down at the letter in your coat pocket. As if on instinct, you reach for it and press it deeper into the fabric, tucking it beneath your scarf before his eyes meet yours.

“Geez, Clark,” you say, a soft laugh breaking from your lips. “You know there are, like, two other elevators, right?”

He huffs, exhaling like he hadn’t realized how hard he was breathing. “Oh… right,” he chuckles. His voice sounds rougher than usual, touched with exhaustion. Maybe something else, too.

“Places to be, I get it,” you tease, reaching for the ‘Lobby’ button.

“W–What?” he stutters.

You look up. His expression startles you. Wide-eyed. Like a deer caught in headlights.

Your brows furrow.

“What’s up with you?” you ask gently. “You okay? You look scared shitless.”

Clark’s face goes pale. Just for a split second. Like he’s seen something he wasn’t ready for. Or like you’ve seen too much.

But then — just as fast — color returns to his cheeks. His throat bobs with a hard swallow.

You don’t press it. You just glance away.

The elevator gives a soft shudder as it starts to move, and your body sways slightly with the motion.

Both of you straighten. Hands still. Shoulders tight.

The silence swells between you. Not awkward. Not yet. Just heavy.

You try not to think too hard about how tense you feel. How aware you are of him. How aware he seems of you.

Another little shake in the elevator, and suddenly his shoulder brushes yours.

His coat is rough — textured wool against your bare skin where your sleeve rides up. Your heart thumps, just once. Too hard.

You glance up through your lashes — And he’s already looking.

He startles slightly when your eyes meet. You both look away at the same time.

You shift, giving him a bit of space.

“Long day?” you ask softly, pretending to focus on the floor.

Clark lets out a sigh. Not a performative one — a real one. A full-body, bone-tired, soul-heavy sigh.

“Always,” he murmurs.

There’s something in his voice. A tug. A weight. Like he’s trying not to say more.

You want to ask. You do.

You open your mouth—

Ding.

The elevator stops. The doors open with a soft hiss.

You both step forward at the same time, only to hesitate, catching each other’s movement.

Clark laughs — low, warm — and lifts his hand in a polite gesture.

“Ladies first.”

You smile despite yourself. The heat from the elevator hasn’t quite faded from your cheeks.

“What a gentleman,” you nearly giggle, stepping past him into the lobby.

He watches you with quiet amusement, those soft dimples deepening in his cheeks, eyes trailing after you like you’re something he doesn’t want to lose sight of.

And you?

You walk forward, the letter pressing warm against your ribs — your heart still caught somewhere between flustered and thrilled.

What. A. Day.

BONUS:

The elevator doors close with a soft hiss. She’s gone.

And I just stand there — still facing the direction she walked — jacket slung over one arm, tie askew, heart... loud.

Too loud.

God.

She doesn’t even know what she just did to me. What brushing her shoulder did. What her voice did — What a gentleman — like it meant nothing.

But it meant everything.

It always does with her.

I rake a hand through my hair, still damp from wind I shouldn’t have let bother me. The collar of my shirt is askew — I can feel it. My coat’s wrinkled. My pulse is unsteady.

I didn’t look like Superman just now. I didn’t even look like Clark Kent. I looked like a man losing his grip on a double life.

And I am.

Because for four minutes in a steel box between the twenty-third floor and the lobby, she stood beside me — close enough to hear the air shift in my lungs — and I felt... peace. And fear.

Fear that I’m already in too deep.

I don’t think she noticed that much. The letter — was it in her coat pocket? Did she fold it when she saw me? Did she feel the same pull I did?

No. No — she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know who I am.

But she smiled at me. Not Superman. Not the cape or the myth or the man in the sky.

Me.

She smiled like I was someone she could trust. Like I was real.

And that’s the cruelest part, isn’t it?

Because I’m not.

Not fully.

Not to her.

Not yet.

A/N: erm... guys? hello? did you like it? well i sure hope you did because we still have 6 more parts! updates will likely be every other day. but you know, shit happens sometimes haha. look out for the next chapter, it only gets more tense...

[emacrow]

Kronos, Agent A, and bites marks

Kronos looked a bit skittish and dejected after the sixth Doctor nearly got iced by her baby after he made an unfortunate choice of mumbling words which lead to Batman calling in a favor from the Wayne's to bring in a good doctor that actually can get near both the ancient beings long enough to give a diagnosis.

Incoming Agent A, who was calmly explained the situation as he walked slowly into the containment. Kronos look at him for a moment before a bit of realization flickered in his eyes, as she murmur something.

Batman and the other heroes watches behind the hidden camera screen office, watching as Alfred check Kronos's temperature, painless blood drawn, checking her heart and breathing and gave a clear full body examination to a couple heroes were shocked to see a long horrifyingly yet old looking scar on her stomach area that look like someone dragged something sharp and was stretched a bit wide.

That gave one point to Diana theory of Kronos story being warped dramatically, but the fact of that Zeus did cut opened Kronos's stomach to pull out his siblings pin true.

A couple of more minutes past with alfred carefully examination the baby boy who was a bit squirmish while alfred did a couple of comments obviously praising Kronos whom face flushed a rather colorful red blush turning her head a bit. Alfred did asked and provides Kronos and Her baby much better comfortable Maternal and baby clothes then what they were currently wearing.

By the time alfred came out of the containment cell, alfred's soft gentleman look shifted a bit, before speaking after handing the vials of swirling golden glowing blood.

"Both madam and the child are well, a bit underweight, Ms. Kronos will need headache relief medicine, both her and the child is in need of a very light seasoned meal and drinks to not overwhelmed their senses in which I'll be providing." Alfred told then after handing the written documents forms of the examination. Batman could only grunt a bit, considering he trying not to look back at Alfred's glance considering his armored wrist had a tiny bite marks that actually dented the armor with indents.

"Ms. Kronos did asked what and where is this place as I asked what was the last thing she recalled was falling from Olympic while trying to hide her child but as she spoke, it seem to cause her abdominal pain that seem to be PTSD related." Alfred said to which batman nod knowing that Alfred would never lied to him.

Part 3 << >> Part 5