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10/27/2019 03:55 PM
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Writing sample 3
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V I S I T I N G
The main floor of the Daily Planet building was as lively as ever, phones ringing, keyboards clacking frantically, papers being shifted around as employees moved about just as erratically. All the while, the head of the paper, Perry White, switched back and forth between taking a long sip of black coffee from his official Daily Planet(�) mug, and shouting at specific employees regarding what stories he was being handed, his volume unchanging despite whatever his actual feelings about any given story were. An odd sort of hierarchy to the paper's workers existed, represented often by physical appearance more than a random visitor would tend to expect. Perry, naturally, didn't bother to shave during what was generally considered a slow period before Christmas itself came around, and yet that gave him all the more time to ride the asses of any fresh meat at the establishment, somehow foolishly assuming they'd have an easy time being hired during the holidays. Younger, generally newer writers, editors, and photographers had more formal attire and desire to stay tidy in general, while the seasoned veterans of the business--such as Perry himself--tended to make the most minimal efforts at clothing professionalism, their responsibilities too vast for impeccable looks to play any factor in their lives anymore, not to mention an understanding of their own appearance having little to nothing to do with the perceived quality of the paper, outside of publicity shots. Jimmy Olsen, for example, was one of few within that transitional period; a well kept tie, business shirt, and ironed slacks, contrasting the looseness of said tie and the coffee stains left on the worn pants, not to mention a collar missing a button or two. "Olsen! Thompson's got our front page story for tomorrow ready, but I needed the photograph and title for it last December! Hurry it up and show me what you've got!" White yelled, startling the young man who'd sworn he'd gotten the usual shout/sip routine down, without factoring in a change of the patterns aside a new month. He'd been working at the Planet for over two years now in spite of it feeling like a decade or two, yet it had seemingly paid off with the boss-man deciding the rookie deserved a shot at coordinating certain parts of the front page with it being "that special season and all that junk" as he'd eloquently put it. First he'd decided that the top picture would be his first challenge to impress with (along with a title if Thompson didn't get around to it), and next would be... a possibility of the front page side-piece being one of his own, as long as it stood out! Whilst dancing through the usual afternoon churning of the machine that was the Daily Planet workforce, he finally arrived at Perry with a haphazard collection of his most confident ideas for the title of the piece he'd read all morning (totaling at least a dozen times) and the best selection of pictures both he and another photographer had gotten. "Sorry for the wait, sir! We've got the best pics of the Man of Steel you've ever seen! Fred and I had to wait until we were sure The Parasite was down, but what we've got of 'em both looks awesome! My favorite title is 'Parasite halted by Man of Steel'!" the energetic male concluded, staring hopefully at an observant Perry White. His expression remained neutral--which wasn't necessarily bad--while he filed through the papers. "Hm. I like that title Olsen, that's pretty good--concise. But my gut's goin' with 'Superman prevents Parasite rampage'. Use that third picture, with Superman standing over 'em, and those people in the back; makes the reader feel more involved. Crop it so that bit of flag is in the shot." Olsen's narrow knees almost buckled at the reply. After circling the preferred title with his handy blue Sharpie, Perry considered the exchange done. It was over so quickly that he'd just barely managed to realize that Perry had complimented him, and approved! So much so, that for a moment he just stared at the man, his grip on the two ever important papers he'd been handed back just a little too tight. "Olsen? You with us?" the burly man quickly muttered, snapping his fingers in front of the boy's face. "You waiting for a treat? Get those to Lane, pronto! She's coverin' Bill's shift while he's sick." And suddenly, reality returned to the photographer's ecstatic mind. "Y-yes sir! But uh, I think she's out on a late lunch right now, with the short notice an--" White grumbled, rolling his eyes, before interrupting and briefly flailing his free hand around. "Alright, alright, fine. Just set 'em on her desk real fast and come right back, I'm walking over to check on Thompson's edits." The movement towards Ms. Lane's office had begun before Perry had even finished, Jimmy knowing full well that the boss's temper was never to be provoked. Opening the door carefully, given that Lois had smacked Jimmy over the head with her purse the last time he'd stormed into her office, letting the gust of the door fling her impeccably organized papers about. The worst thing? That hadn't been the first, or even third time it had happened. Shutting the door behind him just as quietly out of some odd, irrational fear of the door still somehow managing to screw his entrance up, he then took a small step towards the right to flip the standard Planet office light-switch. Gosh! He couldn't help but always marvel at Lois having her own office, primarily due to it being the only one he'd been given permission to see. The framed, award winning story that had truly introduced the news media world to Superman of course remained in the center of the back wall, and the bright eyed male couldn't help but smile a little at how familiar seeing that picture had become. Walking over to find a nice, relatively open spot on her desk to place the "sacred" (in Jimmy's mind) documents so as to not create a clutter, Olsen paused. The papers were all over the place, not to mention some visibly worn as if they'd been carelessly skimmed through and tossed aside; definitely not Lois' usual style. Had the extra hours thrown her off that much? Jimmy made no intention to criticize Lois, especially given how much of a hurry she was probably in for her break, he'd just learned over the months that she was a bit of a racehorse with her work in spite of her veteran status, and a few extra hours was never a visible hassle before. Making a quiet grunting exclamation to express 'well, that's weird!', he turned back to leave... "Hello, James Olsen" the gravelly, inhuman voice stated, just as the employee's eyes had met the armchair Lois kept to the right corner of her office nearest to the door, or rather, whom comfortably sat in it. The return to reality was short lived, if not outright catapulted away to the stratosphere and beyond. Lounging eerily casually upon the chair nearly too small for his, gigantic, nearly 9 foot build was a monster that Jimmy had learned was not only maybe the biggest threat to Superman, but over the years the entire world itself, if not more. Words logically failed him, despite willing himself to utter the name, his entire body tenser that it had ever been, without question. Had he not been thoroughly educated about human anatomy over the eons, Darkseid might've thought the young Earthling's eyes were going to leap out of his head. A continuous shivering had exploded across Olsen's lanky body, with stifled breathing to match. His dilated eyes locked onto the ethereal, dimly glowing red crevices that just barely resembled eyes across the craggy, ashen visage; a slow burning that felt too otherworldly to even resemble the Man of Steel's. Every nerve in his body demanded he try to leave, or at least make a commotion to alert everyone else of the horror that had fallen upon them. And yet, in spite of only witnessing it from a distance in a single instance, Jimmy was aware of some kind of beam the conqueror could fire without effort, and seemingly without following the laws of physics given how immediate its trajectory was. He had every desire to not be a coward, but the fear he felt, the confusion, the understanding that his hypothetical power in whatever this situation was ought to be a negative percentage left his mind reeling. What even was bravery, in these circumstances? What could he do? What made him he think even had a decision to make? And like that, he collapsed, the motion causing the numerous papers to fly about as if to taunt the young man. The observing god remained un-phased, almost expectant at these results. No matter; it wasn't the boy he'd hoped to encounter at this particular office.
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